#gratitudeNow: Ally the ally

So recently I made a good friend, and ally. Her name is Ally.

Ally is a little like me, in that she’s a little, like me. We have a lot of things in common. I met her through FLAMEcon, a virtual kink conference I “attended” a few weeks ago. We’ve become fast friends. We both have had a lifelong interest in spanking, both are interested in discipline based relationships, and both have a drive to help other folks.

During all this covidiocy, she decided to start a YouTube channel.

Just a day or so ago she released her first video, about making a physical space for yourself in which to feel little.

Here it is:

I love this thing. As I told her, I find it to be helpful, authentic, and honest.

I’m super grateful that even in the midst of all this awfulness, people are still looking to help one another.

And make no mistake, this sort of thing absolutely is a need. Having a sense of connection, and belonging, has a place in Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.

Right up in that sweet orange spot is where Ally’s work goes.

I know I’ve been looking for ways to help out too. It’s why I went to FLAMEcon in the first place, why I’ve been hosting “big little video hangouts”, and I’m getting involved in creating a virtual version of the DC ageplay munch.

Yeah, that stuff is fun. But fun doesn’t mean unimportant. Last night, for instance, I got to play Overwatch with one of my oldest, dearest friends, Shokolada. Even though he’s a couple of hundred miles away, even though public health is a dumpster fire right now, we connected. I slept like a baby last night (hush, you.). This morning I feel so positive and energized.

Connection matters. And people like Ally who help make it happen, I’m grateful for them.

#gratitudeNow: That's Just the Ticket

So tonight, I’ve got plans. I’m going in to the movies.

Yes, you read that right, in.

My sister-in-law, MB lives with us. She has a basement apartment under our house. She’s lived with us for years. She’s one of my favorite people, for a number of reasons. For one, we both share a fiercely protective love for her sister. But for another, she’s very, very thoughtful. She’s the sort of person who puts together parties, buys thoughtful and funny presents, loves to show her love very demonstrably.

I’m a fan of that, and I’m a fan of her.

So her latest thoughtful thing, something she’s done once before, but I’m glad to see return, is that she turns what my little calls her underhouse into a movie theater for us.

She shows us a film on a big TV she has, serves snacks (ice cream cones tonight, yay!) and even prints tickets.

Have I mentioned how much I love her?

#gratitudeNow: The Quiet Domesticity of Service

I’m an early riser. Even on my days off, it’s rare for me to stay in bed much past six. Today was no exception. I popped out of bed, thoughts of Project Longbottom swirling in my head. I got up, got my shower, got into training pants (as well as the rest of my clothes). Then I gave Mama a good morning kiss. We performed a private little every day ritual we have, then I tucked her back into bed and headed downstairs.

A few hours later, long past when I’d made my own breakfast, done a few hours of research, coding, and some chatting with friends, she trooped downstairs, and into a recliner for a relaxing late morning of video-gaming.

I hit a certain stopping point in my research, where I really decided I needed a snuggle, and maybe a cup of tea, and came out to the living room for the first of those. I sat on the floor by Mama’s feet, which she rested on me, as I sat my head in her lap, enjoying the closeness.

After a time, she asked me to make her some scrambled eggs. I got right to it. I decided to really do the job, using real butter, dill weed, some cheddar cheese.

I got them into a nice bowl, served them to her, and set about making my tea, a nice London Fog (sort of the cappuccino of tea). After which I showed it to Mama, to see if she wanted to try it. I said I wanted to get back to my coding, and said told me alright, and tried her eggs. Which she liked very much indeed.

She told me, grinning, that she thought I was very good to her. And I told her I’m her boy, and that I live to serve her.

Which is absolutely true.

The whole thing made me so happy I decided to write this post. This sort of thing, this is part of that greater truth I’ve been slowly discovering for months now. Yes, we’re kinky people, who enjoy scenes, enjoy play. Mama gave me a wonderful and very thorough caning at a party we went to back in February. That stuff was, is, and remains a part of our lives. But there’s this other part, the day-in, day-out course of living our truth.

It’s filled with learning, and with joy.

First there was the part where Mama told me, more than asked me, to make her breakfast. I love when she tells me to do things. I love doing them for her, too. For the briefest moment, my brain did the mental juggling of analysis, tagging and evaluating that “working on code” and “having some tea” were both not as important as “thing Mama told me to do.”

Once that was handily computed, and I did that task, it was like my whole body and soul were set upon it, and in the doing, I felt more myself. I was describing to some kink friends the other day how our dynamic has become a whole lot more m/s, how both of us consider me to be Mama’s property. I know this, but there are moments where I really, all the way down feel it. This was absolutely one of them.

Every single day, I feel like we’re both growing, both learning This Thing We Are Doing. We’re both getting more comfortable with it, and learning how it works.

It’s bliss.

#dailyThink: Breakfast Fear

It started this morning with the milk. Which is to say, we were running low. No milk means no cereal, and more importantly, no coffee with milk, no London Fog tea. Unacceptable! Instead of deciding to muddle through until I go pickup a grocery shopping order on Saturday, I decided I would be bold and go out for milk to the convenience store.

There it is, sitting on the front seat of my car. Hello, milk.

I felt like a rebel as I got in my car. I hadn’t gone for a drive like this in a while. For weeks now it’s been grocery store runs only. This felt decidedly weird, a combination of thrilling, odd, and slightly foreboding.

I decided, pulling out of my driveway, I would do like back in the old days (you know, a month ago), and even avail myself of the luxury of some drive-thru breakfast from McDonald’s. I whipped out my phone, ordered it up, and got on my way.

At the convenience store, when I parked I noticed a few other cars in the lot. Everyone I saw behind the wheel was wearing a mask. I definitely scanned the front windows of the place, to see just how crowded it was. There was a scant handful of people, less than 4, so I ducked in, went straight to the refrigerated milk section and then made for the counter. Where now there was a giant set of plastic sheets across the counter, hung from the ceiling. It was like a giant sneeze-guard at a salad bar. I paid quickly, using my watch to do so, so I could minimize the amount of touching of anything I was doing.

I got back in the car, and headed for the McDonald’s. Along the way I started to notice some things.

For one, not only were the local roads really, really quiet, but there was no traffic whatsoever on the highway. I could tell from the GPS in the car.

When I got to the shopping plaza where the restaurant was, it was like a ghost town. So eerie.

I went through the drive thru and quickly got my order. The drive-up speaker-signboard had several COVID-19 advisory notices about changes in hours, restaurant policy, and safety plastered on it, as did the windows of the store itself.

I tried to put it out of my mind. Tried. Of course I noticed how everyone I could see through the windows of the place had on masks, and gloves.

I collected my meal, and my bottle of water, and, trying to emulate something I used to do all the time, pulled around the side of the building to park, and briefly sit and enjoy my meal, while watching the early morning sky and traffic around me.

Try is the operative word.

As I sat and ate, I noticed how few cars were on the road. And I began to feel a certain horror, a creeping dread, as I realized that nothing in this world was quite the same, including me.

Something had my hackles up.

I figured out what it was a moment later.

Out of my peripheral vision I had caught a police car with its lights on, in the lot. It was slightly across the way, where something bad had happened.

I couldn’t tell exactly what, and at first struggled to see what it was the car was even parked by.

But as I munched on my McMuffin, it became more clear to me that it was a motorcycle, or rather the remnants of one.

I sat there, thinking about it. Was there an accident? Was the rider drunk? Did anyone get hurt? The rest of my brief short foray out snapped into a sharper focus. Everything was different now. I thought to myself if I had some small fender bender in this post-COVID world, how would I deal with it? Would I be too scared to trade insurance info with the other guy? What would going to the hospital post-accident be like? Even the notion of it felt ponderously heavy, and filled with extra complexities and complications.

I got out of there, and drove home. The closer I got to my house, the more safe I felt. When I parked in my garage, and closed the door, I felt almost normal again. Almost.

I’ve had some big, scary things happen to me before in my life. In college, I was mugged at gunpoint. Several years ago, I was in an accident that made my airbag deploy, and totaled my car. I’ve dealt with severe illnesses and surgeries of loved ones.

But this thing, it’s different. I feel like long after there’s a vaccine for the disease, this lingering fear and unease will be with me.

More than ever, I’m resolved to be kind to myself, and to others. More than ever, I see the need for my mindful practice. Because right now, it’s pretty easy to get freaked out.

#gratitudeNow: Boots and pants and boots and pants....

So one interesting thing going on in my life lately, that’s only been bolstered by the quarantine has to do with my daily routines. This lovely picture you see is a pair of Rearz cloth training pants. One of 5 such pairs I own, and which I’m now wearing pretty much all the time, during the day.

I wake up (hence boot), get ready for the day, and get dressed in one of these bad boys, and get on with my day. Since I’m working 100% remotely these days, that means there’s a good chunk of my day where I’m in my adult, vanilla-aspected headspace, doing my day job, while wearing training pants.

I also during the day do chores around the house, like clean the kitchen, scoop the litter, take out the trash, all that jazz. The training pants kind of help me do that. They’re part of my new normal, where my kink life and my vanilla life aren’t as distinct and separate as they used to be.

It’s really got me thinking lately about identity and perspective, and how they’re influenced by my own ideas about them.

One thing I’m really working on hard lately is relaxing into Mama’s ownership of me, and not steering or putting words in her mouth. She’s said many times how much she likes me being in my trainers. When I’m wearing them, I definitely feel like she’s with me, and has her eyes on me at a distance.

It’s a really good feeling.