The Things We Do For Love

A very belated Happy New year to you all! I didn't mean to be away so long. 

Harry and I took an almost unheard of four weeks off work, starting from the middle of December. I thought I'd have heaps of time to do things I wanted to do but Christmas still snuck up and bit me in the bum and Harry's birthday and New Year both went by in a flash.

Then it was time to start packing for our holiday in the French Alps. I may have mentioned a time or two that I hate snow, so a week in a ski resort is way out of my comfort zone. Harry has the bug, though, and invited our elder daughter and her partner to join us. Harry and I travelled by car over three days, picking the other two up at the airport on the last leg of the journey.

I'd never imagined going on a ski trip. If I had, I'd have thought of a ski village, quite separate from the slopes. I knew about chair lifts and cable cars taking skiers up the mountains to get their fun, so it came as something as a surprise to me that the snow started right outside the apartment building. It was impossible to go anywhere without walking on that nasty white stuff. Did I say walking? I meant slithering, hanging on to Harry for dear life. After a couple of days DP (Daughter's Partner) suggested looking in the ski shop to see if they sold crampons. It was much easier with the grippy things but I wasn't let out alone, mainly, I suspect, because I have no sense of direction and am known for getting lost in unfamiliar places.

Though I loathe snow it was impossible not to be awed by the stunning scenery. I was even persuaded to ride in a cable car up to another resort higher up the mountain, where the snow was deeper but, curiously, easier to walk on.

The view from our balcony

The view from 1600 metres up

The week seemed to rush by and we were soon back at the airport, saying goodbye to the intrepid snowboarders. Harry and I carried on, spending a night in the beautiful city of Reims, before heading back to the ferry port and home.

We've been back a week now. I've cleared the mountain of laundry and dealt with the avalanche of mail that was piled up behind the front door. Harry has got us back on track - you know what that means!


Rosie

Questions, Questions - The Meme

CAN YOU FILL THIS OUT WITHOUT FIBBING?

Well, I should hope so!

  1. What was the last thing you put in your mouth?  A banana.
  2. Where was your profile picture taken?  Florida.
  3. Worst pain?  Slipped disc.
  4. Favourite place you've travelled?  New York.
  5. How late did you stay up last night?  10.30pm. I was frazzled!
  6. If you could, would you move?  No, but we'll have to when we can no longer drive.
  7. Favourite toy as a child?  My Teddy Bear. He sits on a cushion in my bedroom.
  8. Favourite TV show as a kid?  I'm too old to remember! Maybe The Lone Ranger.
  9. How do you feel right now?  Stressed - there are only six days until Christmas!
10. When was the last time you cried?  Can't remember.
11. Who took your profile picture?  Katie t.
12. Who was the last person you took a picture with?  Harry and my mum at a wedding.
13. What's your favourite season?  Summer.
14. If you could have any career, what would you pick?  I'd love to retire.
15. Do you think relationships are worth it?  We'd all be pretty lonely without them.
16. If you could talk to ANYONE right now, who would it be?  My beloved Nanna, 
      taken from this world too soon.
17. Are you a good influence?  I'd like to think so.
18. Does pineapple belong on pizza?  It belongs on my Hawaiian, with ham and cheese.
19. You have the remote, what are you watching right now?  Is this a trick question?
20. Who do you think will play along?  Maybe Meredith and Ella, if they can find the time.

Extra questions:

Sunny - Do you open presents on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day?  Christmas Day.

Abby - What is your favourite Christmas decoration?  A snowmen mobile my younger daughter and I made when she was three years old. It's not Christmas until it's hanging in the hall.

Katie - Talk with hubby about holiday related spanky business?  There won't be much talking, stress relief is almost a given here.

Terps - Do you enjoy listening to holiday music?  No, not really. I loathe it in shops.

Amy Lynn - Do you have any home remedies to help a girl get over her cough and cold?
No, sorry, I take over the counter remedies from the pharmacy.

Ronnie - (a) White lights or coloured?  White. (b) Your worst present?  I can't think of one.

My question - Fairy or star on top of the tree?  We have a home-made star that's about 30 years old. We may have to retire it after this year, it's falling to bits.


Fun meme. Thanks for bringing it to Blogland, Sunny.


Rosie

Come out, come out, wherever you are! It's Love Our Lurkers Time

It's that time of year when bloggers encourage their silent readers to come out and say "Hello." So come on out! I can't see you but I know you're there. I know it can be daunting to make a comment, I had been reading for many months before I plucked up the courage. Even then, I deleted my comment twice before pressing that blue [Publish] button.

Don't be shy ...

Don't be scared...

I won't eat you...

Just...

Then press that button, I'd love to hear from you.

You don't have to give a name, you can be completely anonymous if you want to.

Rosie

In a Jam

If you've been reading here for a while you'll know that Harry finally agreed to spank me after 43 years, on the strict understanding that it would only ever be for fun. Somewhere along the line though, he became more assertive and discipline entered the mix. If I had any doubt that Harry has now truly embraced the ttwd dynamic, it was totally dispelled when he purchased two jam spoons recently. Yes, two, and not the regular kind either but the French version.

Early last month we spent a few days in France, stopping at a hypermarket on the way to our destination to buy supplies. Harry headed straight towards the wine section as I lagged behind looking at tableware. When I caught up with him he had stopped at a display of jam making utensils. In his hand was a large spoon-shaped object. It was obviously meant for stirring jam but it was flat on both sides, with no bowl, and a uniform thickness from end to end.  After tapping it in his palm he smiled and said it would do very nicely. Then he decided to take two.

I promise you I was an angel during that short break but, as we were loading the car to go home, Harry held up one of the spoons and said we'd try it out the next day. He only used it moderately for a few smacks but it left its sting, if not its mark. 

20" long, ½" thick, 2½" at widest point

I rarely get into any real trouble but I blotted my copybook a few days ago when I went on a short trip to the next village. As I picked up my bag to get out of the car, I noticed Harry's spectacles on the passenger seat. My car had been in a tight spot on our drive and he had turned it round for me, leaving his specs inside. I went to get my phone from my bag to let him know where they were and realised it was still charging on my bedside table. On my return Harry met me at the door but, instead of the usual greeting, he crooked his finger for me to follow him to the kitchen, where a jam spoon was placed prominently on the table. As he guided me across the table he said I would see a missed call from him on my phone. He had called to ask if he'd left his specs in my car and heard my phone ringing upstairs. It was a short spanking but even over jeans that thing hurt like the dickens.

I'm wondering whether I should use that photo on the lock screen of my phone, to remind me not to leave home without it again...


Rosie

Horsing Around

After reading my answers to the stolen meme, a few people expressed interest in hearing about my experience of horse riding.  I was reluctant to lay bare my ignominious defeat but, after revisiting the saga with Harry, I can see the funny side, so here it is:

Rosie Goes Riding

Harry and I were sitting on a clifftop above a deserted beach, desultorily watching the feeble little waves breaking on the shore. No surfing that day. We were about to turn away when a posse of riders on horseback came into sight, their mounts galloping along the shoreline, kicking up spray. Harry thought it would be wonderful to do that in moonlight and there began his romantic notion of us doing that very thing.

And so it was that I came to be in a stable yard, kitted out with riding hat and boots, amongst a gaggle of pony mad little girls. The lesson started in the yard with the basics, like how to climb aboard and hold the reins. Harry mentioned to the instructor that I was a little nervous and she assured him I'd be fine with Dora, she was a placid animal and could do the exercises in her sleep. But animals can smell fear, can't they? The sweet natured horse knew I was never going to be in charge right from the start.

Then, on to the paddock, which meant putting into practice what we had learned about stopping and starting. So I told Dora to "walk on" and squeezed with my knees but she was going nowhere until the instructor came to my rescue.

The following week, we reprised the first week's lesson before moving into a bigger paddock  to learn trotting. I was doing quite well until then but Dora refused to move on to the other paddock. We'd been shown how to smack a crop against the saddle, rather than the horse, but my feeble tap had no effect. The instructor leaned over and gave her a smart tap, galvanising her into sudden movement that nearly had me off. She behaved herself for the trotting but I knew who had the upper hand and it wasn't me. To finish the lesson we were given an exercise that involved turning round 360 degrees in the saddle, using the pommel. I'm a bit hazy now on how it was done but why on Earth would anyone want or need to do that? I think I made it eventually but I can't be sure and Harry doesn't remember!

Whilst I was making my inept attempts, Harry took to horseback like a duck to water. By the third week, I was still going round in circles when, in the next field, Harry was trotting around prior to going out on a ride with experienced pupils and their instructor. There had been a mistake in the allocation of horses that morning and the only one left for Harry to ride was Jago, a spirited animal, usually only ridden by instructors. Harry was thrown off unceremoniously but got straight back on. He relished the challenge and was allowed to ride the horse from then on. Each week, Jago threw him off in a different way, until he realised Harry wasn't going to give up.

I think Dora was tired on the day of my sixth lesson because she seemed to go into the 'I can do this in my sleep' mode. Anyway, I was plodding around with a semblance of knowing what I was doing when the stable owner came along and said I must go on a ride the following week.

Placid Dora came with me on my very first proper ride. We set off nicely, trotting along the bridle path, until she decided that wasn't enough fun and bolted off the track, heading determinedly in the direction of the nearby trunk road. I pulled on the reins in vain, hanging on for dear life, until the instructor caught up and took control. On return to the yard in every previous week, one or other of the pony mad little girls had offered to take Dora from me to do whatever had to be done between lessons. That time, none of them was around and I had to look after Dora myself. I dismounted, remembering we were not to let the horses drink straight away but Dora headed doggedly for the water trough. I actually managed to stop her and leant up against her shoulder, as we had been taught. Her response was to stomp hard on my foot! My howl of anguish at last produced help and Dora was led away by someone far more competent than I.

Harry, meantime, had also returned to the yard, where he found me hopping around in pain. He led me to his car, where he removed my boot from my rapidly swelling foot. That was the last time I ever went near a horse. Many years later my mother found my boots in the back of a cupboard and gave them to my elder daughter. The left boot still bore the muddy imprint of Dora's hoof.

Harry continued to ride out from the stables until he had the news that a careless person had ridden Jago into a tree and the poor horse had to be destroyed.

He never got to realise his romantic dream but he did get to ride with our daughters who, like him, took to it with ease.


Rosie

Crime on the Increase!

I've come back from holiday to find that Blogland is experiencing a crimewave. With so many partners in crime, I couldn't resist this act of felony!

BIO

Marriages - One.

Proposals - One - but not from Harry, he never actually asked me to marry him.

Divorces - None.

Surgeries - One.

Tattoos - None. 

Piercings - The usual one in each ear.


HAVE YOU EVER

Shot a gun - No, not my thing but Harry has six shotguns. He and our daughters all enjoy clay pigeon shooting.

Quit a job - Yes, I had to get out to save my sanity.

Been on TV - No.

Fallen in love - Twice. I was too young the first time but then Harry came along.

Driven across country - Hell no!

Hit a deer - I was in the passenger seat of my car, with Harry driving, when a muntjac careered into our path. No possibility of avoiding it so, sadly, it died.

Watched a birth - Do fur babies count? 

Ridden in an ambulance - No, thank goodness.

Sung karaoke - No, I couldn't inflict that on anyone.

Ice Skated - I've put on skates and slithered around for about 30 seconds but that probably doesn't count.

Been surfing - Harry has been a keen surfer since the late 60s, though he's had to slow down in the past few years; all that paddling out has put a strain on his shoulders. Back in the day, we had the requisite VW camper van and I was his surfer chick, hanging out with the girls whilst the men did their stuff. More women joined in over the years but I was not one of them!

Seen the ocean - many times.

Ridden a horse - When we were starry-eyed young lovers Harry had this romantic dream of us riding horses along the sea shore, so we both took lessons. He needed only two. I'd like to draw a veil over my experience; suffice to say the dream never became reality.

Almost died - No.

Been punched - No.

Punched back - See above.


ARE YOU

In love now - Madly!


Thanks to Amy for taking the rap for all this burglary, ten spanks for each felony when Eric gets home!

Rosie

An Unwanted Spanking

A few nights ago Harry came to bed a while after I had turned out the lights.  No sooner had he got into bed than he was out again, rummaging about on the floor before getting back in. I turned around to find him sitting against the headboard with the fat bolster and a pillow on top of his legs. Having got my attention, he patted the pillow to indicate that I should go over his lap. There'd been no sass, no line had been crossed, so it could only be that Harry wanted to spank just to remind me that he can. Usually that makes me happy and keeps me on an even keel but I didn't want to be reminded right then, I'd been in bed over half an hour and I was sleepy! 

So I said "No!"

I couldn't see his face properly in the dark but I heard the tone as he said, "Rosie, get over here."

I was warm and cosy and snuggled further under the duvet saying, "No, I don't want to!"

Pulling the cover off me he said, sternly, "Rosamund, get your bottom over here NOW!"

Yikes! I can't remember the last time he called me by my proper name, so I scrambled over his lap and he began to spank. I really wasn't in the mood so I lay still, almost disconnected, until the spanks became harder and I began to wriggle and squawk. At that point Harry said he wished he'd picked up a paddle, not so that he could spank harder but to give his stinging palms a rest! He made his point perfectly well without the use of an implement and I was quite subdued by the time he let me up.

I snuggled up beside him ready for sleep but had barely closed my eyes before he said, softly, "Did you forget to say thank you?" He had never made that a requirement; it dates back to the beginning, when we spanked purely for fun. He had to go against his nature to smack my bottom, so I thanked him for spanking me each time and still do. I wasn't so thankful for the spanking I'd just received but kissed him and voiced the forgotten thanks because he does it to fulfil a need I was wired with from birth. He held out his arms and I cuddled into him, falling asleep on his shoulder, my favourite pillow.

When a spanking is over, there is usually no further discussion but the next morning he said, "You said no."

"I did, but what makes you raise it now?"

"I've been thinking about it."

"And what do you think?"

"If you say no, that raises a spanking to discipline level."

*Smiling* "I noticed that last night!"   

With a kiss and a swat he went off to do his chores, satisfied we were on the same page.

Sometimes, a spanking I don't want is one I really need.



Rosie

Drawing extracted from an original artwork by Minelle Labraun that I am thrilled to say now hangs in my home.