The up and down motion was making me nauseous. The only reprieve was the occasional lull created when he slowed to catch his breath. My inner thighs were sure to be sore and bruised and my legs ached so badly that numbness would have been a welcome sensation. I knew I couldn’t last much longer, but I was afraid of what might happen if I tried to stop him. I also knew that shifting in any direction, to ease my pain, would likely interrupt his rhythm and that would in turn, cause him to lose control.
I guess riding that tandem bike through the streets of San Francisco wasn’t such a good idea after all.
What happens when you find yourself falling in love with your very best friend? Do you simply relax and enjoy the ride? Do you fight it for all you’re worth… afraid that it’ll ruin things forever? Or do you stand down…run like hell leaving both relationships to dissipate like a cloud of dust after a windstorm on the prairie? Well, if you’re anything like me you wind up wanting to do all of the above— simultaneously, and then some.
You’ve got a wealth of emotion riding on your sleeve with every waking moment… not to mention the ever so romantic horse drawn carriage rides you take together in your dreams. Where did this come from? Has it been hidden, ever so conspicuously, just below the surface… just out of reach… waiting to smite you into the tailspin of a lifetime? Come on it’s your best friend. You’ve known all along that there was a helluva connection but you both thought it was strictly platonic… until that fateful day when the rubber (no pun intended) hit the road. It happened so suddenly… so suddenly that the fireworks that would have gone off in your head were silenced by the sound of your own beating heart. You became entangled in a rapture of love, no holds barred, get it and give it where you live type of affair never before seen or felt. An affair that would break all the rules, stand the test of time and stand the test of writing, making and breaking new rules of engagement for people throughout history.
How do you handle this when its too good to let go; you know, too scary to fathom, not to mention too nerve racking to fully embrace such an outlandish notion. Who does this? Do people in their right minds really allow this type of nonsense to happen? Well they do, it does, and it has.
And So It Begins…
Once again, we’ve been gone– and now we’re back. The new job has had me bogged down for the last few months — oh, nothing negative– just getting into the swing of things in a totally different, but really the same line of work, kind of way. Couple that- with my head space about the old job and VOILA-
Enough of that—-it’s a new day, I love writing and what better way to clear my head than to finally speak up. Here is the prologue. I will share tidbits in the future as I unlock my writer’s block by unleashing my workplace demons.
I’ve actually been at it for more than 25 years, and although I’ve never been able to get past the first 10 minutes of the movie 12 Years a Slave, I often find myself describing the time I worked in the PGSD as “19 Years A Slave”. Although the flags are coming down, I can imagine some of my ex co-workers still wrapping themselves in their dusty remnants each night, curling in the fetal position wishing “Mamie the housekeeper” was there to sing them an old negro spiritual. Oh, but they would never admit to that in their outside voices, nor would they admit that their paw paws had relations, of the sexual kind, with Mamie, an African American woman.
These good old boys think those times are these times— so sorry boys (and girls) those days are over— welcome to the real world where we have the EEOC, the ACLU, an African American president, diversity and inclusion, the know how, and the words (and the sword if need be) to teach those people how to be fair, professional beings in and out of the work place!
Good Friday morning everybody
I was having a sentimental moment on this day 🙂
This one’s sure to make you laugh!
The author of this essay is a 10 year old child who told her mom she’d washed her face when in fact she had not. Her mom “punished” her for lying by having her write an essay telling why she shouldn’t lie…
(this is a copy of the original essay- although it’s hard to read it -muddling through it is well worth the challenge for a good heart warming laugh—)
The guilt (she lied), the innocence (she just wants to play and to stay out of jail) and the sarcasm (47%- really?)
Hi Everyone, In all of our day to day ripping and running, I just realized we are in our sixth month of blogging! It’s hard to believe we’ve been at this for a whole half a year!
In honor of this great accomplishment and because we’ve gained so many new blogger friends, I’ve decided to re-share some of the things we’ve posted since our humble beginning. (I plan to re-post in a series with the first one being posted within the hour) Enjoy, and by all means, feel free to comment, share and or re-blog!