So, for those of you in the greater Raleigh, NC, area this afternoon, I visited the local shopping mecca with my SO and mum-in-law, ending up at the Shops at Baileywick, and the DSW shoe outlet.  At the Shops, I found myself wandering off alone among the rows of tiny boutiques, full of trinkets, original art, antiques, imports, all of a deliciously feminine flavor.  I adore the Baileywick, and I am realizing now that it really is not at all a manly place.  Most men I see there are carrying their wives’ packages, or handbags; or they are sitting on the faux-brick wishing well in the middle of the center aisle, eyes aglaze, checking their watches.  Meanwhile, I’m scurrying up one aisle and down the next, eyes aglow at the pretty necklace/earring/bracelet sets, checking out the handmade handbags, and admiring lovely appointments for the boudoir.  I realized suddenly, as I’m checking out an antique perfume bottle necklace, that no one in that store would have any reason to think anything but that I was shopping lovelies for my spouse, and I instantly began to enjoy the experience even more.  There were quite a few pretty things I would have loved to have walked up to the checkout with, but I can wait until SO and I can go back together, alone (mil does not know I CD).  But oh, tempted, tempted.

Next at the DSW outlet, I couldn’t help but be drawn to the great selection of very stylish boots, including a size 11W moc-croc black patent Guess boot with about a 5″ spike heel.  Leather, knee-high, gorgeous – $99.95.   Oh honey, I would make that work – I may have to go back for them . . .  I ended up settling for a pair of (men’s(!)  sad-sad!) black Adidas street shoes that look just like soccer cleats, without the knobby bottoms:

.   Oh, my wife’s reaction?  Ugh. What?  They look fruity.  Jesus, God.  Should have gone with the Guess boots.

Kisses, KM

So, I guess that’s where I am with my crossdresssing, as I look toward 2010.   Hope it is a year full of blessings and good times, to all.  Kisses!

Well, of course, that.  But I wanted to talk botany and horticulture.  Instead, I arrived home from work a little early tonight, having stopped by the cleaners to drop off, and to pick up.  So, I’m changing clothes, and I know I’ve just done all my laundry.  So I have a fresh load of soft, satin panties, and all my other unmentionables that seem to be de facto replacing my ordinary collection of white cotton briefs.  I undressed quickly, and I didn’t even think about it for a second, but reached into my drawer and (while rooting around in the tangle for my white camilsole, I grabbed one of my padded 40B bras, white with lace trim, and I’m standing in the mirror admiring myself for a second in white bra and white sporty bikini briefs (vanity fair, with mesh inserts at each leg – fabulous, just fabulously comfortable and sexy too) before slipping on some clean jeans, an a-shirt over my bra, and I switched to a more obvious earring in place of my daily, workaday tiny sterling “ball” stud – it looks like a small silver dragee, if you know those like I do.  My hair was shorn close within the last week, and I touched up my neck to the hairline with the Schick Quattro in the shower this morning, while also shaving my face clean, my chest bare, and my underarms, of course, bald as a newborn.  I have been thinking about shaving my legs down to my toes, actually a lot, lately.  Soccer season is over until March, noochie.  If I get a snuke in my snizz, I may do it.  Mmm.  Just the thought of it.

Kisses, blushing, KM

pink fog tonight, flaunting it.  Good, right?  Makes me all giddy inside, perhaps something cyclical going on?  Maybe my wife and I are in sync . . . wouldn’t that be just about right.  Mmmmmwaah.

“Doctor, my eyes have seen the years
And the slow parade of fears without crying
Now I want to understand
I have done all that I could
To see the evil and the good without hiding
You must help me if you can . . .”

– Jackson Browne

I really almost feel like pulling an all-nighter tonight.  I will say, the plants are being forced into flower this week, and it’s just stickiness, sticking to fingers, lips, glassware, going to be throwing down some crazy ad shibbits now that they are a bit more mature.  Sorry Marly, loving the bone tights.

After laying the Honda down a few weeks back on a really crappy day for a ride in a patch of gravel at the entrance to Stone Mountain State Park, my repair to the plastics is nearly complete but, alas, the good riding weather is almost gone.  I’m already looking forward to spring when the weather’s more hospitable and in the wee hours of a mildly warm Sunday morning I can strap on my hand me down 42DD, throw in some size 8 forms, skinny into my last night panties, slip on my leather catsuit (completing a quasi-Trinity look with my spike heel thigh-highs, in lieu of her motorcycle cop boots), and blow down the road past all the baptist churches, muffler note crackling off the stained glass windows, ricocheting between the tombstones in the cemetary behind the rectory, and rustling the tired old pigeons roosting on the Christ as Young Boy statue in the rose garden tended by the Reverend’s wife.  Someday, the South will evolve too, it’s just taking longer than you might have thought it would.  Every little wild-hair helps, though, right?

Nude boy shorts tonight, comfort triumphed over speed.

Kisses, KM

What began as a relaxing trip for two to the San Juan Islands August 2008 turned into the great debacle, beginning with unreasonable conditions that popped up as if out of a clear blue sky  (that ultimately made the trip undeniably pointless), ending in tears, recriminations, and finally estrangement, with weeks of silent fury and nary a word between us for several months.  I tried to broach the subject a number of times and reason it out like adults (this was pre-earring, pre-outing, my secrets were still all my own), but to no avail, utterly.  How we got by that I don’t know.

Flash forward to the present, and what began as a nice, completely good faith invitation to Mr&Mrs from a friend-in-waiting to an artistic outing and a meet and greet turned into a referendum on my earring, which she has vowed she will not take me as her guest to her office Christmas party if I wear one that night.  To which I replied, why do you want to try to manipulate me like that?  If you want to make a deal, honey, how about we say go to the symphony, and I’ll go with you to a Kenny Chesney or Billy Currington concert, let’s deal with my earring and your party later, mm-kay?  I’d like her to meet this new friend and her SO, it’s a great professional connection, at minimum.

Last night, when all this went down, I just wanted out.  Today I missed her.  Damn you, love.  Damn you.

tearful kisses, KM

Oh, but while in Richmond Monday I had some impromptu time with my niece, truly a bouncing 7-month old bebe, and it was priceless – made my whole month

PS – Does anyone use the RSS feed option?  If someone loads this page on their RSS reader, I’d love to hear about it.  Gracias!

Let’s break down Thanksgiving – my parents are on the west coast, guests of my brother and his wife for the week; lil bro and wife and baby didn’t say where they were going or who they were spending the week with (presumably her parents); we are off to in-laws 100 miles away.  A little wake and bake, a few chores before I go, a walk in the garden, a nice visit with the fam (as it were), enough sativa for the weekend.  I am restlessly thankful for this day.

On the other hand, I think one day I simply took offense to my wife automatically pushing my hand away when I reached out to caress (in a loving, not sexual way) her shoulder, or belly or thigh.  I think it was then I realized.

Happy happy -

KM