A Woman's Place...or...Go Make Me a Sandwich, Woman.

Mike thinks that I am afraid of being domestic.  He could not be more wrong.  I would be an excellent stay-at-home mom/housewife.  Us Cancers love domesticity and taking care of others; just consult any astrology book. I may hide it well, but deep down Mike knows I'm fiercely traditional (ok, maybe not fiercely).  I've hidden it very well for the last few years, but I welcome marriage and stability with open arms.  Unfortunately, in today's world, vacuuming in heels and pearls while making your husband a sandwich, while prepping the house for his return home, while keeping yourself beautiful, is slightly outdated and looked down upon...given women's lib and all that. Which is ok, because in my version I vacuum in heels and pearls, prep the house for his return from work, feed him an amazing dinner, tuck the kids in bed while he reads the paper and smokes his pipe in the living room, then he bends me over the kitchen table while I'm cleaning and ruins my perfect image...preferably with a pipe still in his mouth...but whatever.  Same difference.

Sex in the kitchen = YES
Barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen = NO

Trust me, there are no more babies in this domestic fantasy.  Luckily, that special day of the year is coming up that gives us all permission to live out our fantasies and be whatever we want - whether that is a slutty nurse, a slutty cat, a slutty cop, a slutty cowgirl...you get the idea. (Why must most women be sluts on Halloween? and aren't all cats sluts when they're in heat?)
I'm living out my fantasy in full force, except my 50's housewife is secretly slutty.  Until she blogs, then she's slutty for all the world to see, of course.  So, for one glorious day, I'll pretend to be everything that I'm not. (years of independence have created the 21st century whirlwind that is my life) Mike will be the Ward to my June, because he likes to chase the Beaver (his words, not mine).  He's going to give the Beaver a good licking, too, because the Beaver has been bad (my words, not his).
Anyhoo, domesticity will be at its vintage finest in October.  Until then, maybe I'll try to control the kids a little better, make dinner more, serve my man, and "understand his world of strain" like an excerpt from Helen B. Andelin's Fascinating Womanhood says I should.

I hope Mike is ok with pizza and a blow job after I scream at the kids to go to their room.

Where Does The Time Go? or...Man, Those Earrings Are Lovely

It's been too long. I know. I know.  It's been so long that I don't know where to begin! It's been so long that I almost just gave up on this blog and started a whole new one all together!

It's August.  Summer is coming to an end and the kids are going back to school soon (finally!).  It flew by, really, just like this entire year has so far.  Mike has moved in and we're cohabiting peacefully, talking about getting married, planning on opening up a business together, and scheduling our sex just like grown-ups do.  Sunday we'll have been together for 9 months.  It's love and I like it.
I honestly can't wait to get our business up and running.  It is going to be an awesome experience and we are so excited about it.  Things in the office here have gotten a little excruciatingly boring lately and I've all but given up on finding any sort of happiness in my current position.  We've lost some accounts and workload is down, so people tend to socialize.  I am forced to sit in my area because I am the receptionist.  I have to stay put.  Others, however, see fit to get up and wander and chat excessively in their boredom.  I hate this.  I feel like I'm backed into a corner.  I can't get out.  I can't say, "Can't you see I'm extremely busy refreshing my Facebook and Twitter every 5 seconds?!" because I'm too nice...and let's face it...I could get fired.  I don't make eye contact with most people that come up front because I do not want them to feel welcome enough to converse.  It's awful and rude, yes.  But, I'm sick of hearing about people's cats or illnesses or their periods or, even better, their sex life.  Believe me, it's fucking AWESOME that you have a boyfriend that can last for hours and that you are able to have multiple orgasms. FUCKING AWESOME. We should all be that lucky. Maybe...just maybe...I don't want to hear about it at work.  After a pitcher or two of sangria? Count me in.  We can talk about what positions you like too.  Otherwise, leave me to stalk people on Facebook and look at cool shit on Etsy in peace. Please. I'm begging you.  Oh! But definitely tell me about the shot glasses that look like shotgun shells that you found online..because those were kick ass.

Speaking of cool shit on Etsy, I am so addicted to that site.
(Aside: Turns out that both Mike and I were blogging at the same time and both mentioned Etsy.  This is without talking or reading each others blogs.  This stuff happens all the time with us.  We are connected on some other level that I cannot even begin to explain. But I digress...)
I have found a plethora of amazing things.  Items for upcoming nuptials, accessories, home decor, vintage engagement rings, and random oddities. It's the random oddities that keep me entertained throughout the week.  There is a never ending supply.  Let's take a moment to look at this artisan that I found last week.
VulvaLoveLovely is her name and vaginas/female reproductive systems are her game.  This is just a portion of the items she creates.

Uterus fanny pack.

Earrings. Vulva earrings.

For the woman who has everything: A pendant of her own vagina. Just send them a picture!

Uterus pillow. Soooo cuddly.

Vagina pillow.  Just in case you like to sleep with your head on some pussy.  The hole confuses me, though. Seriously.

I need to keep myself busier during the day, I think.