Okay, so I’ve been enjoying some incredible homegrown bud all summer long, pretty much daily, and (yes, I couldn’t help but pick at it and smoke most of it ”green” – yes it was a little harsh, but I will say that some stuff I was patient enough to let cure just a couple days was smooooooth) it just got better and better until it reached it’s peak about three weeks ago.  It was actually a hermaphrodite that had budded as a male, previously, but I guess I stressed it properly this summer, and when I cut the lights back to 12 hours it just started – wouldn’t you know, sweetie – sprouting female and male flowers (!!!!!!)  OMG, that has to be a sign, right?  I thought that was delicious :^)  So it self-pollinates, and makes some pretty little seeds, which I’ve saved.  I can’t wait to see them sprout and grow, my little babies!

I’ve been extremely morose otherwise, can’t seem to get my marriage back on track, my wife has become less than enthused about my cross-dressing, and the dope, and the motorcycle don’t help I suppose.  So it’s withering and dying before our eyes.  She has her own issues, OK?  I was depressed when she met me.  Anyway, I’m wearing Guess Jeans denim miniskirt, my white corset bra under shortsleeve blouse and black onyx earring tonight, high on some leftover leaf that has some thc content. 

Sorry for the long break, but things have been a little wild, of late.  I must say that I am finding the coverage of the Senate debate on healthcare provided by Keith Olbermann on MSNBC simply fascinating politics.  Obama may have a strategy developing, here, and it is starting look like the healthcare package may have a shot at passing both houses of Congress, different versions in each of course, and then the reconciliation conference committee will work out details on the public option in a less raucous setting than we’re seeing now.  I think that the Republicans have really missed an opportunity here, in that if they had found a way to get on board and put aside the politics as usual for a change, instead of going completely apeshit like they’re doing now, they might be a group about whom more people could feel some pride and satisfaction, rather than revulsion and disappointment.  As it is, the sheer absurdity of claiming to be the Party for hard-working average Americans just shines through.  We know who they’re serving, don’t we?   Nobody I see in the mirror . . .

Kisses, KM

This bike was rather exotic for its day, and has endured nicely even 13 years later and is a competitive machine in comparison with today’s advanced two-wheeled road and track equipment.  I’ll easily get 100,000 miles out of it, it never gets close to redline in any gear, and man this thing really has a nice broad powerband, enough to get out of a jam if necessary.  Please, y’all do me a favor and WATCH OUT FOR BIKES while you’re driving around.  There are a lot of us out there, especially in summertime, and we rely on you to be even moderately attentive to your driving and to react when you see us with your eyes. 

OK, so a quick confession, I’ve had an erection from the sheer thrill of the riding.  It’s that much fun.  It’s that enjoyable even abiding by the speed limits, and of course the other laws of the road.  I am a very cautious rider, having been in an altercation in the past between car and bike – don’t want to go there again, one rear-end collision catapult high-side is too much.

Wearing my favorite panties tonight, some Marshall’s special Vanity Fair (support like I’m wearing nothing at all, mmm heaven) chest and thighs freshly shaved up to there, listening to a fresh jazz album this evening, enjoying a little bud after a very busy day.  off to bed, more later, thanks for checking in!

Kisses, KM

So after I picked up the motorcycle on Saturday (June 6),  I had time to ride it shakily around the neighborhood for 15 minutes, noting that it idled rough, but ran smooth — suggesting some congestion of the idle jets in this carb’d classic.  I’d have plenty of time for riding later, plus I needed carb cleaner, fresh gas, a helmet, riding gear, some proper boots.  I packed my things quickly and headed out for Midlothian, Virginia wherein my younger sibling and his lovely wife and new baby, my niece,  reside. 

I was semi-femme, wearing under jeans my spandex nude boy shorts because they wick sweat, and a dangly earring in my left lobe, and I had a spandex camisole on underneath my T-shirt.  I’ve lost a good bit of weight now, an honest 23 pounds, and I’m looking really good compared to my more abundant  self.

It’s nearly a four hour trip, no matter which way you slice it, and I opted for the less-traveled 29 to 58 to 360 to 288 route, rather than 40/85 to 85 to 95 Interstate path — too much traffic for my tastes.  I had a fat baggy, then recently procured, and I packed a glass bowl for the trip.  I was pretty high before I left Greensboro’s outer limits, and was able to maintain a nice buzz for the entire trip, which is, as they say, pretty much the point at least for me. 

Upon my eventual arrival all up in the Midl’n, I found my beautiful niece in the care of her maternal grandmother, who I’ve missed dearly since I last saw her.  The sweetness was sleeping, then Gama burped her a little, fed her a little, and it was the sweetest thing you ever saw.  I love that little baby already, and I just met her!  I held her, and she smiled a little smile among her random facial gestures (she was about 7 weeks old that weekend).  I wish I had children, I really do.  But wifey and I are on the rocks again, since the bike purchase she’s been highly disrespectful to me, so I leave her be when she’s like that.  I really, truly do not think that she loves me.  I’m pretty well convinced.

Kisses.

I don’t know whether the SLP reference is too arcane or not, but I am of a certain age, darlings, and I love functional classics like the VCR, and the non-digital DVC camcorder.  Of the latter, I have a wonderful Panasonic PV GS320 with the 3xCCD video elements.  The only thing it’s missing is a microphone input for higher fidelity recording to take advantage of the CD quality sound – it has a mic zoom feature that is cool, and I think the GS300 had a stereo in, but there wasn’t one available on the ‘Bay when I was looking.    They’re not real expensive (mine brand new for under $300 Ebay), and the picture quality is probably close to HD, it also is a 3.2 Megapixel still camera, although it’s a handful to lug around just for that when you have a smart phone with a 5.0 MP still that will do video also.  But the video, especially the zoom, is really spectacular.

Okay, so where were we?  Oh yes, time to kill in Asheville, cash money to spend, some dope – I have a small wooden pipe, about the size of my little finger, that I carved from the crook of a branch that I removed from a pink flowering Weeping Cherry tree at the house we left in Virginia when we moved to North Carolina.  I loaded it as soon as I hit the road, that and a glass bowl with a little shotgun on the side.  I am a very cautious driver anyway, and well-trained, having grown up around the Washington Beltway in the 70s-2000.

Tonight’s state of mind: Light headed

Tonight’s drug of choice:  hacheech, at the moment

Expectations: dressing, high, writing

Soundtrack: Donald Fagen – Snowbound (Kamakiriad) on continuous (love the guitar solo, and it’s monotonous enough it fades into the background a little as I write).

Outfit: Sleeveless grey evan picone short dress, black hose, silver and black cat charm bracelet, silver 24″ add-a-bead chain, black 3″ heel boots, black corset bra with my “bust enhancer” elastics to give me some boobage – check the link out: http://cgi.ebay.com/Brand-new-black-bust-support-body-shaper-34-36-XL_W0QQitemZ300322000174QQcmdZViewItemQQptZUS_CSA_WC_Hosiery_Socks?hash=item45ec960d2e&_trksid=p3286.c0.m14&_trkparms=65%3A12%7C66%3A2%7C39%3A1%7C72%3A1205%7C240%3A1318%7C301%3A1%7C293%3A1%7C294%3A50

I usually use two, for extra mushing, as is the case tonight.  Underwear?  Boy shorts, in black – one of my favorites as you probably have guessed.

I know, I know.  Some of you are screaming “Get the fuck down to it already!  Focus!  Asheville!”  When people talk about an uneventful trip, that is really exactly what I had.  I literally rolled on to Asheville without stopping, didn’t see the first local representative of Johnny Law within a mile of me during my drive — about a 2.25 hour trip from when I really got out on the highway.  I got to town, I checked into my hotel room, unpacked my essentials, hit the head, and then I knew I had to scout out some dinner.  One place my wife and I had not had the chance to try the last time we were in Asheville was Tupelo Honey, a nouveau Southern cuisine place where I was fortunate enough to eat a lunch while in town last autumn on business.  So it was a natural choice for vittles.  The meal itself was good, but they had a pumpkin pie creme brulee that is worth thr trip if only for that.  So, decadent and well balanced between custard and delicate sweetness, and the pumpkin pie spices were applied prudently so as to be delectable, but not to overpower. Call ahead, check the online menu.  If you are ever fortunate enough to try it, drop me a comment.

More next time.

Kisses!! KM

More about Asheville, next time, promise.  It’s a story worth telling.  But now, I’ve got an itch.  Sorry, writers’ prerogative.

The weekend that I was to have the great honor and pleasure of welcoming Anna Cecile to the family with a visit to my brother’s house (in the greater Richmond metropolitan area) turned out to be the weekend that I did “it” again.  Well, not exactly it – I told her beforehand this time.

A little prologue.  In 2001, I became enamored of shopping for motorcycles online.  Ebay, Cycletrader.com, and Craigslist hadn’t really arrived on the scene yet – certainly not in or near Danville, Virginia.  So one fine day, I saw the perfect bike, and I bought it.  Found it in dealer inventory in Rhode Island, I think, fresh from the crate (NOS) with 125 miles on it – not even broken in.  The delivery fee was less than 400 clams, it was a great deal on an essentially new 1996 Yamaha Virago 535, red v-twin cruiser with a nice windshield, and a fringed Mustang seat with pillion and backrest.  I didn’t tell my wife what I’d done until the bike was due at my house the next day.  “Honey, I think I did something bad,” was how I started the conversation.  I’d been muttering about doing so for some time, I have friends who ride, and I thought I was quite coordinated enough to do it quite well.  I’ve always been very athletic, good eye/hand coordination, and my last moving violation was in 1987 when I was 47 in a 35, and probably should have been thrown in the clink considering how much alcohol my girlfriend and I imbibed that night.  She was fresh in AA for (not alcohol) substance abuse, and I was out dining fancy and drinking with her, all the eve the both of us barely able to keep our hands off each other.  And who could blame me, as this young lady had a gafurchin like a lima bean in a tiny little hoodie.  Indeed, the guilt sort of straightened me out in a lot of ways for a good long while.  But I digress.  This little bike was so pretty, the 50-year-old lady next-door mentioned to me that she thought it was “beautiful”.  I recounted said encounter to my raconteur brother-in-law and he views her attention to the bulbous curves and gleaming metal between my legs as a come on:  “Yeah, I think she wants to fuck ya.”  I’m telling you, this guy has dragged in some nice talent to the annual Thanksgiving dinner at mom-in-laws, he knows something about what motivates women.

I will tell the full tale on another occasion, but suffice to say for now that I had an accident with the beautiful motorcycle wherein an elderly lady could not keep herself from running me down right in front of my house one evening in November 2001.  I purchased said motorcycle in September 2001.  Neither the accident, nor the bike purchase to begin with, was exactly how this was supposed to have gone down, but no use any of us crying over spilt Chopin.

Now, on with it.  So about Tuesday, I spied an ad on Cycletrader.com – an online motorycle and motor sports vehicle classified service.  A lot of dealers put their used inventory up online here and it will sit there until somebody looking for one happens upon it, and boom, dealer hasn’t put in much work to try to sell it.  That is how I found the pristine Yamaha.  This time, after 8 years of thinking about it, and after reflecting long on my accident and the lessons I learned, I’ve been yearning for, searching for a Honda VFR 750 in the 1993-1997 (version 4, FV) era.  I was emailing people and calling about bikes from California to Maine to Michigan, to the panhandle of Florida, trying to find just the right bike.  The right one popped up only 35 miles from home, and it had all the right stuff.  I called the guy, a private owner (!), and we chatted about the bike.  He offers to email me some photos, but I told him we were so close I’d just come by and see it in person.  He seemed to like that.  He had a no-haggle deal – you pay the price, or you add an extra $1000 to the price and try to haggle him down.  So on Friday I pulled out $2400 in cash from the bank, and had some walking around money, bitches.  I went to see the man about the horse, so to speak, it was a fine steed as advertised, and he agreed to ride it to my house for me, since I haven’t been on a bike in 8 years, and I wasn’t licensed or insured.  I gave him an extra $100 and a ride home for his trouble, he seemed to enjoy the last ride on his VFR, at one point on the highway he blasted past me going at least 90, so that I could see it accelerate like a scalded dog, and so I could listen to the aftermarket D&D slip-on can.  So it’s mine, mine, mine all mine now, and can I just tell you – this is one helluva machine.  I’m hoping to have some really good times aboard that bike, and to stay safe and keep the rubber side down.  I’ll tell you about my plans for riding safe in a future blog.

I promise I’ll tell you about Richmond next time.

Sleepy kisses, KM