Dear Angela

Thank you.

Sometimes I get caught up in a pursuit of happiness that can’t be caught, but must be enticed and welcomed with calm.
Sometimes, like today, I am calm and centered, and can realize how happy I am.

You are part of that.
Today I don’t expect we shall have a chance to speak, I don’t expect to have any kinky fun, or engage with your wit and wisdom, nor even to share the joys of your successes.

Today I am meeting with a well-heeled client, which means a serious payday and, most likely, an upgrade to our contract that will kick my bonus schedule into high gear. Yet here I am awake and alert well before I need to commute. So, I had a chance to realize that I have a kindle to take to office. I have a cage to lock away my penis. I have shaved balls. I have the beauty of a great novel to enjoy. I have peace and shelter. I have the confidence that another day will be equally hope-filled and happy, and that I can make a difference to someone I love.

All of that comes because of knowing you.
You haven’t made me happy.
You have taught me how to be happy.
You have shown me how to be grateful, and how grateful living promotes happy living.
You have shown me the peace that comes with living authentically.
You have allowed me to know a staggering and previously unimaginable combination of contentment with today and hope for better tomorrow.

So, Thank You, dear Angela.
You are so much more than Mistress. So much more than simple language can express, that all that can be said is “Thank you.”

Thank you doesn’t say enough, but it says what is foremost.

Mr.J

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Well. Gee. Um.

I dunno.

Who me?

Quite honestly, I am stunned. I am overwhelmed. I am many things.

But mostly I’m just an everyday girl who happens to like boys and is perhaps a bit more kinky than one might expect upon meeting me. I am also a girl who is rather fond of this particular gentleman. And he takes my fondness like a champ.

Because, believe you me, my fondness can come at a cost.  Because some days, those days when I’m just miserable and so damn cranky that I want to eat carbs and drink margaritas until not only do my hips triple in size overnight but they wake up with a hangover, I can be a BITCH. A mouthy, intolerant, impatient BITCH.

And he knows this BITCH!

Yet he chose to speak to the everyday girl who believes in gratitude, the girl who sees gratitude as an almost living breathing verb, the girl who knows that gratitude is prayer and gratitude saves lives and heals hearts.

And we’ll leave this here for now.

Thank you, Mr.J.

Corona

Autumn nibbles its leaf from my hand.
We are friends.

We shell time from the nuts and teach them to walk.
Time returns into its shell.

In the mirror is Sunday.
In dreams come sleeping–
the mouth speaks true.

My eye moves down to my lover’s loins.
We gaze at each other and we speak dark things.

We love one another like poppy, like memory
we slumber like wine in the sea shells
like the sea in the moon’s blood jet.

One heart beat for unrest.

We stand at the window embracing.
People watch us from the street.
It is time people knew. It is time
the stone consented to bloom.

It is time it came time.
It is time.

Paul Celan
translation: John Felstiner

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About Celan

Explaining Celan and this poem

… that God gives us this.

My parents got me a guitar for Christmas when I was 13 and I went to take lessons. I told the teacher I wanted to learn how to play rock and roll. He told me, “Girls don’t play rock and roll,” and then tried to teach me “On Top of Old Smokey.’”

~Joan Jett

First off, I am the victim. So there will be no victim blaming here! I’m just a girl, a girl who happens to appreciate a few of the finer things the world has to offer her. And while I may not be a frugal girl, I am a reasonably prudent girl. At least most of the time.

But, as you know,  things happen, particularly on these interwebs, don’t they? Sometimes, as I’m sure you’ll agree, these seemingly innocent “happenings”  can almost seem like a conspiracy. A conspiracy to charm you right out of your money.

So I was surfing, reading email, perusing twitter, who knows? How the fuck is a girl to remember the details when she is basically clobbered over the head, stabbed in the heart, dragged by the tits with …

1/2 PRICE COACH SALE === FREE SHIPPING

… ding ding ding ding. Coach? Sale? Resist, I told myself, you’ve got more important things to spend your money on. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Well, I answered myself back, you could just have a look see, just window shop for fun. DING. DING. DING. DING. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do, I’ll just have a little fun window shopping. DING. DING. DING. DING.

And off I went, ignoring the last thing I said to myself — Angela, you hate window shopping. It depresses you.  — as I clicked that link and dived in to heaven.

And so it began.

This little number just melted my heart. Plus it was actually MORE than half off. Who could resist? Who would be so cruel to even suggest that I should resist?

Then I just had to pick up this wallet, because I know my Kate Spade is, sad to say, in it’s last days. It really was a soon-to-be necessity, so wipe that grin off your face.

Feeling pretty good about myself, I was ready to relinquish my CC info and address when I thought I might as well check out the shoes. Just for fun, because Coach purses are pretty damn special, but who in the world ever cared about Coach shoes, let alone even heard about Coach shoes. This would definitely be a safe venture. (Yes, that is exactly what I told myself and you know it’s true.)

Who knew? Honestly, I ask you, who knew? Of course, I fell head of over heels (pun noted but not intended) and there was absolutely no way I was going to ignore my impoverished (as of late) shoe fetish and bypass the GOLDEN (1/2 price, baby) opportunity to add these gorgeous to the bone one-of-kind heels.

Anyway, that is how we end up here at the end of my glorious binge:

Minus the $2.50 which was for signature delivery that I actually cancelled. I was happy, I was sated, perhaps even a little bit high on getting such a good deal with actual COACH merch!!!

I WAS DONE! Now all I had to do was wait the 3 to 5 business days for delivery.  All was good in my little corner of the world. I didn’t even (and I’m proud of this) go back to the site after that.

That is until that damn email hit on Friday. That EMAIL!  That damn email from COACH!

I will give them this: they certainly know how to sweeten the pot. Apparently, for that weekend only, I could purchase anything I desired from their sale with free shipping, with a gift box, with a free monogram even aaand ANOTHER 20% OFF! So of course I went back, just to have another look. And then, don’t you know it, this happened:

I don’t have a screen shot of check out with this, but here are the detes from the site: rogue 25, oxblood/black copper, full price: $595, half price: 297.50.  So now, when late autumn comes and I pull this sweetheart out, I will feel great joy and appreciation knowing that I saved $300 on my cold weather purse. How could you fault a girl for that? I mean prudence isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

xo, Angela

PS: The sale continues RIGHT HERE (have to say I am kinda sorta loving on that pink Charlie Carryall)