1. Once in a while I will stop at the incense shop here in town to simply browse and fill my senses. After leaving the doctor’s office today, I felt the need to visit the shop once again.

    I parked my car and noticed two older gentlemen standing in front of the door talking to one another. Yes, I’m guilty – I added a little pep to my step as I walked toward them. And yes, I’m guilty once again – I was wearing a spaghetti-strapped sundress which hits just above the knee, with some strappy sandals on my feet. It was a beautiful day today. I couldn’t let the opportunity to feel like a girl fly out the window. I seized it for all it was worth.

    As I’m walking across the sidewalk both gentlemen put their hands on the door to open it. I giggled on the inside. Gent 1 won that round and as he pulled open the door for me, Gent 2 tipped his non-existent hat and said How are you today, sweetheart? in a southern drawl so thick it could have swallowed me whole. I’m guilty again – I swooned a little bit. I answered in the most polite way I possibly could, and walked through the door.

    As I’m walking towards the fruity section, I noticed Gent 2 has followed me in, but he walks behind the counter. Oh god, oh god… he works here. Shit. Okay, you can do this. Just roll with it. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. I’ll be damned, though, if my hips didn’t sway a little wider while I walked. Guilty as sin.

    I calmly picked up a strawberry-coconut stick and brought it to my nose. As I started to inhale the delectable sweetness I heard You know, little darlin’, we sometimes have those on special. If you give me just a minute, I’ll take a look. It made me swoon – guilty again. I thanked him in the most polite way I know how and continue on my journey of nasal bliss.

    Not two minutes later, he was at my side telling me all about how Tuesdays is when they get their shipments so they usually put a few on sale that day. Meanwhile, I’m calling total bullshit in my head because he’s only letting me know for one-hundred-percent positive what day he will be at the shop. Not a fucking thing will be on sale, I’ve been there on Tuesdays! But, even I have to admit it was downright adorable how he was so excited to tell me.

    I simply smiled, thanked him for the information, and continued on my journey. I came across a shelf filled with cool lighters. I started collecting lighters about fifteen years ago. There’s this place in Eagleville which has the badass variety of lighters. On each roadtrip from Kansas City to Des Moines, I would stop and pick up another lighter. I used to take a lot of roadtrips.

    As I’m looking at these lighters, Gent 1 comes to my side. Howdy, ma’am. Are ya lookin’ for somethin’ in particular? I answer him kindly. He pulls one out from the back of the display and holds it in his hand. Now, ma’am, this one came off the truck a few days ago and I noticed it while puttin’ together the display. I got a chuckle out of it, and it is kinda pretty. I held out my hand to accept the lighter from him in order to look at it, but he hesitated. I don’t wanna go offendin’ ya or anything, and I don’t mean anything in a sexual manner by what’s on this lighter.

    At this point, I’m dying of laughter on the inside. I can’t hardly stand it anymore, y’all. Instead of busting a gut right there in the store, though, I kindly let him know it was okay to show me. He dropped the lighter in my hand and giggled. I turned it over and on the front was a giant pickle. I chuckled a little bit, because shit, ya’ll… it was a damn pickle, with the bumps and everything! Meanwhile, he is standing there chuckling like a teenage boy. Pickle. Hehe. I thank him for showing me in the most polite way I know how, put the pickle lighter down, and decide it’s time for me to get out of there before it gets any worse.

    I wish them both a fabulous evening, and as Gent 1 races to open the door for me, Gent 2 tips his non-existent hat, reminds me about Tuesdays and bids me farewell. As the door closes behind me, I hear Whoo, gaw dang, that was a pretty one!

    I’m still unsure how to feel to any of what happened, but I’ll tell you this: That felt damn good, and it reminded me of someone a bit older than myself. I’m still smiling. 

  2. *overheard in the store today…*

    Her: Good God, lady, learn cover up your boobs. Gross.

    Lady: Learn to embrace yours, girlfriend.

    *… and she snapped her fingers in Z formation. I swear to fuck. It was all over for me at that point. I done lost it.*

  3. I’ve received a few asks asking where to buy my chainmaille jewelry, and I suppose now is as good a time as any to finally answer them. 

    I’ve opened a new shop on storenvy for my jewelry - Filaments of Fantasy. There is nothing there yet, but the next few days have been slotted to focus on getting it all where it should be. 

    Also, she does have a blog to go along with it, although I will post updates from this blog from time to time. Feel free to follow along if you’d like. When the revamp happened, I deleted all posts from before. It will be rebuilt as the store is rebuilt.

    Thank you for putting up with the store spam, my lovies. <3 <3 <3

  4. Markers are in place and all florets made. Let the construction of Romeo begin.

    Markers are in place and all florets made. Let the construction of Romeo begin.

  5. Mama says I sacrifice myself
    too much
    for their demands
    but she doesn’t remember
    my childhood like I do
    - her eyes told her
    I had everything I needed
    while my soul cried
    No, it doesn’t!

    Mama says sometimes they
    need to cry
    over small things
    but she doesn’t understand
    how I don’t want them
    to shed my tears
    - salted with regrets
    and roasted by the
    memories I wish
    I could forget

    They deserve more than I.

  6. This lovely little lion comes from Shel Silverstein&#8217;s Where The Sidewalk Ends.This lovely little lion first entered my life on Christmas morning of 1986. 
All Our Love, Auntie P, Uncle J, D, L and C
This book has been in my possession since that morning, even though I was supposed to share with my brother. Sorry, dude&#8230; Sidewalk was my first love. I claimed it. 
I was reading this book again earlier, and found my next tattoo - this lovely little lion laying across my left shoulder blade. 
Because this one picture captures it all. From start to finish and beyond. 

    This lovely little lion comes from Shel Silverstein’s Where The Sidewalk Ends.This lovely little lion first entered my life on Christmas morning of 1986. 

    All Our Love, 
    Auntie P, Uncle J, D, L and C

    This book has been in my possession since that morning, even though I was supposed to share with my brother. Sorry, dude… Sidewalk was my first love. I claimed it.

    I was reading this book again earlier, and found my next tattoo - this lovely little lion laying across my left shoulder blade. 

    Because this one picture captures it all. From start to finish and beyond. 

  7. Shameless Self Promotion Time

    Because looky! I made that! And it even has a name… Juliet! She will be part of my Shakespeare inspired line! *super duper happy*

    *eeeeeep!* 

  8. While going through my writing folder, I came across this little gem from three years ago. The community I was a part of challenged me to write a story with words given to me. Those words are in bold. Captain Planet. *haha*

    ******

    Some might call me spontaneous. After all, I’ve traveled all over the world, most times at a moment’s notice. I’ve stood in awe of the Taj Mahal and I’ve leaned with the tower in Pisa. I’ve replaced broken concrete at the Colosseum, and I’ve mourned the hardened skeletons of Pompeii. I’ve cried at the top of the Eiffel Tower and I’ve raced along the Great Wall of China, but of all the places I have seen, laying on a bed of soft grass underneath the stars with my head on his chest is right where I belong. 

    Its a simple life, I admit, and not one that many people understand fully. I don’t have fancy cars or diamond rings. I don’t live in a mansion high on a hill, but I am happy. When I gave up my travels in lieu of simplicity, some people thought I had lost my marbles. And, even I thought I had lost them there for a little while. 

    Here’s the thing of it: I felt detached. Void of emotional connections to anyone or anything. The constant travel left me exhausted and I never truly felt as if I belonged anywhere because I was always leaving once I met people and formed even the slightest bond with them. It took nearly six years to realize I didn’t want the life I was living. My mother, bless her heart, was part of the driving force behind the whole thing, really. She settled down early, gave birth to my brother and I, and the farthest place she ever traveled was to the grocery store. While raising us, she would tell us bedtime stories about places she wished she had visited. The look in her eyes as she told us about these faraway places said it all. She wanted to be there. She wanted to be living the life she had made up each night. At the age of twelve I made a vow to my brother, that I would visit these places for my mother and that I would love every minute of it.

    The year I turned nineteen, I set off across the world. I was courageous from a young age. Always exploring the woods around where we lived, encountering certain animals and not being afraid of them, meeting new people and talking to just about anyone I would meet. Even love didn’t scare me. When I was just sixteen, I shared a dance with a boy I hardly knew and fell head over heels inlove, then fell out of love just as quickly as I fell in. When I was seventeen, I fell in love again, but it was my heart that ended up broken that time. Heartbreak didn’t scare me either. I was fearless.

    At the age of twenty, I met a man while I was buying old trinkets on the streets of Cairo, Egypt. I had an affinity for old-world stuffs and I collected things such a brooches, handmade jewelry, silk scarves, hand-painted frames and the such. As I was talking to a vendor who was selling rings made from old spoons, I noticed from the corner of my eye a giraffe. It was gleaming and glittering and I had to check it out. I paid for the ring I picked out and walked over to the giraffe. It was a small pin, made to wear on your collar and it just spoke to me. The eyes were made from black onyx and its body was painted in gold. It had small diamonds for its spots. Honestly, it was a bit gaudy, but something told me I just had to have it. I spoke to the vendor and he introduced himself as Captain Planet. I asked Captain about the giraffe and how it came to be. He alluded to his wife and regaled me with his stories of his own travels and how the giraffe ended up on the table among trinkets for sale.

    Captain had worked as a stage-hand for Lionel Richie and his travels took him all over the world. It was Captain’s job to hold the yardstick that measured the stage Mr. Richie would perform on. He was very fond of Mr. Richie, so this seemingly minuscule job didn’t bother him in terms of wages. It was the last concert Captain worked on that he met his wife. They were touring North America, and while Captain had always enjoyed traveling to America, he didn’t understand the culture because it was so much different than his. Captain told me that sometimes he felt like an epic ignoramus in America, but it never stopped him from having a good time.

    My wife, Emelia, what glory! She was born and raised in the United States, but her long dark hair and dark, almond-shaped eyes told me she had old-world blood. There was something about the look in her eyes, the first time they met my own, that told me everything I needed to know that night. She would be mine. And I would love her for all eternity. 

    His words choked me up a bit, I admit. Normally, I’m not one for sap and romance, but the way he spoke of his wife moved me to tears. I hadn’t even heard the entire story yet, but I knew that their kind of love was the kind that only came once in a lifetime. 

    Emelia was divine that night. The way she moved, the way she looked, the way she spoke. When I reached my hand out to take hers, I noticed the giraffe you are holding there in your hand. The giraffe was pinned to the scarf around her neck and I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. I inquired as to how she came across such a beautiful piece of jewelry and she told me her grandmother had left it to her when she passed on from this life. When my wife passed away a few years ago, I wasn’t sure what to do with the trinket she always wore on her scarves. 

    An heirloom! I looked down at the giraffe and instantly made the decision to buy it from Captain. Giddy from the thrill, I barely heard what he told me next.

    Be careful, young one. Behind the giraffe lies a legend that I can attest to. It will be the key to your future and if you aren’t careful, the nightmare that haunts your dreams.

    I paid Captain the money I owed him and walked away, never fully realizing the consequences of what I had just done.

  9. Tents Don’t Come With Basements

    One stake, two stake, three stake, four
    my tent’s in the backyard - oh, what a chore!
    but, I can peek my head out during mornin’ sunrise
    or watch stars twinkle n’ stay up all night

    Now, the wind will howl and look for release
    when that day comes I won’t be findin’ peace
    She’s laughing at me now – of this I’m sure
    ‘cause I was an ass n’ didn’t read the brochure…

    Tents don’t come with basements
    I really wish I knew
    no stove either, or hot water heater
    so now I can’t make my stew!
    I had dreams of living in peace
    when she kicked me out
    but tents don’t come with basements
    so I’m takin’ my ass in the house!

    I shoulda started diggin’ when she moved me in
    imagine how fine I really would have been
    But now I’m dodgin’ apples flyin’ from trees
    and I think Mother Nature’s done bein’ a tease

    But… tents don’t come with basements
    I really wish I knew
    I can’t do laundry or sit on the porch
    or enjoy an ice-cold brew!
    I had dreams of living in peace
    when she kicked me out
    but tents don’t come with basements
    so I’m takin’ my ass in the house!

    No… tents don’t come with basements
    I really wish I knew
    I don’t have a shitter - just an old can
    and rotted leaves will have to do!
    I had dreams of living in peace
    when she kicked me out
    but tents don’t come with basements
    so I’m takin’ my ass in the house!

    *Inspired by a conversation yesterday with my bestest friend in the whole wide world, J. It was suggested that I write a country song about it. It will be set to twangy music lol*

  10. There is no better feeling than a robe - three sizes too big - fresh from the dryer when you know you’re getting ready to hit a sick spell. Not even an orgasm compares to this feeling of utter contentment. 

  11. Beautiful
    he makes me blush
    and never understands how
    one simple word
    can turn my cheeks several levels
    of deep pink

    No one has ever said it like he does

  12. *on the phone with my brother*

    Me: Blah blah blah

    Him: *out of nowhere he says…* I’ve got a serious case of blue-balls.

    Me: *laughs ass off*

    Him: Well? *laughs* She’s been fucking with me all week, but won’t give it up.

    Me: Alright… serious question time because I’m a girl and I have no clue about such things.

    Him: Okay…

    Me: Do they really change colors? I mean, I know blue is kind of out there to be turning into, but the worse it gets for you, the deeper the skin tone goes?

    Him: What the fuck, Shannon? *roars laughing* They aren’t mood rings!

    **mood rings!** **laughs ass off again**

  13. pensivepen:

    because you live
    because you love
    because you rose
    because you’re above

    for, theresidentmama

    because Missouri.

    And love.

    Reblogging this again ‘cause he added to it! *eep!*

    Thank you, my lovely.. <33333!

    Reblogged from: pensivepen
  14. Sweet James,

    Once in a while, I’ll find myself not seeing loved friends across my dash. I have figured out this means I need to go to my Following list and clear out inactives, people I don’t read a whole lot, porn blogs, etc. I do this every six months or so, and six months ago I had the exact feeling I have today.

    I came across your name and my mouse finger twitched. It’s been a year – a little over, and I still don’t have it in me to unfollow you. I can visit you and laugh the same way I used to, or be comforted when I need it most. Your words have an effect on people, and I doubt you ever realized it. That was you, though, confident, but humble – one in a million.

    This letter may never find your eyes, but in the event it does, I want to tell you, you are missed – so very deeply. When my soul travels the world, I’ll be sure to look you up. We have adventures to go on!

    With adoration… <3

  15. Talking to panties at age 18: Fuck you, panties! You ride my ass, invade my crotch and irritate my hips. I’m done with you!

    *throws away all pairs of panties* *never buys them again* *resolves to never buy lingerie ever again*

    Talking to panties at age 35: Oh, hello again, old friend. Come here often? Mind if I take you home, trail you up my legs, across my hips, and rest you just below my belly button?

    *makes rawr noises at panty rack in store* *doesn’t mind getting stared at* *buys one in every color*

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