A post in which we quell a near riot, and I get a surprise offer

I woke up before everyone else, as usual, and moseyed on over to the lodge for some coffee and a smoke. Usually breakfast is pretty lean for me at the camp out, but Babbette had very thoughtfully prepared some veggie gravy for me. I had a capital repast of biscuits, gravy, eggs, and juice. Super!

We talked and visited until the vending opened at 11. Gene had brought paddles, and there was a great paddle that matched my set, which I immediately laid claim to. Gene made me a great price on it. He’s such a nice guy. I know part of that was my “carrot cake discount”, which was fine with me.

There was a flogging class that Archer was teaching about 6-count flogging. It was interesting. I kind of wanted to learn, but I didn’t feel comfortable asking for the loan of floggers, even though they were freely offered. A good matched set of floggers can easily run $300-$500, and I just didn’t want the responsibility of possibly damaging something like that. Rob was in the class. Rob already does Florentine (two-handed) flogging, but he does 4-count, which is less complicated. He was hitting one of the crosses, so I offered to be demo for him. After a bit of a rough beginning (which is only to be expected) he seemed to settle into the rhythm and be getting it.

There was one guy in the class though, that was getting on my nerves so badly I had to leave after Rob was done with me. He was standing there whirling his floggers in 4-count flogging, basically showing off and showing how fast he could go, without even trying to learn what Archer was teaching. I didn’t know why he was in the class, but he was wearing me out. Archer is very experienced, and you can learn a lot from him. It’s a great opportunity to learn from someone like Archer, who was doing this to give back to the community. The way this guy was acting seemed very disrespectful to me. This is the same guy who was learning 4-count at spring. He spent a lot of time that weekend whacking the pads on the crosses, over and over, by himself. At one point I had asked him if he wanted to hit a person (hitting hard things with floggers can damage them), but he declined. I found out later he’s very homophobic, and will only play with girls (although I have yet to see a woman take him up on it). I was just going to demo for him - I wasn't asking the guy to marry me. But anyway, that’s his life.

We ate some lunch (they made veggie chili for me – yay!), and visited for a while, and I went on a little stroll with Russ. When we got back to the cabin, I decided to try to get a nap in before dinner. I can almost never sleep at the camp out. There is so much energy flying around that the atmosphere is just charged. I did manage to doze off for 45 minutes or so, but people were coming and going, and I didn’t really sleep.

We got ready in time to go over to the banquet for dinner. I did the dessert run-down during the announcements, and that was the first real inkling I had that there was a problem brewing. I of all people should not at this point be surprised by the extreme visceral response provoked by certain dishes. When I announced that I had made a homemade carrot cake, people started calling dibs on slices. I had made the cake for Gene, so I decreed that Gene had to have a piece. I then went in to start slicing desserts, to find that my second chocolate chess pie hadn’t set either! Like one of the easiest pies ever and I somehow screwed up two of them this week! I was over it. I couldn’t not serve it because I had already announced that it was being served. Plus it was one of my two chocolate desserts this time. I always try to take care of my chocolate people. There was nothing to do but put it on out. I was very embarrassed and pretty upset, but I knew it had to be served.

After dinner I went in to serve dessert. Usually we wait until dessert is announced to begin serving. Otherwise some things will get gone before they are served; people will be hoarding desserts, etc. Everyone started yelling about the carrot cake – we had a situation. I was afraid people were going to start fighting over this cake! One Domme offered me $200 for it on the spot (of course it wasn't mine to sell, it belonged to LOCK). Russ stepped in to preserve order. He assigned each table a number, and drew numbers at random for the tables to go up one at a time. I went ahead and got a piece of carrot cake for Gene, served it to him at his table, and went outside to have a smoke and a little break.

When I went back in things seemed to be going smoothly. I accepted compliments (which I live for – the LOCK group are the most appreciative people I cook for), and went up to the table to see how things were going. We were between tables being called. I noticed that a very shy submissive was up there getting a piece of the carrot cake. Thinking that she may have been outside when the numbers system was announced, I went up and explained to her that she shouldn’t be up there before her table. She was clearly upset. Her Domme had told her not to come back to the table without a piece of that cake. If it had been anyone else, I would have said something to Russ, but have a soft place for this girl and didn’t want to get her in trouble. I let her go ahead and take it. The breach of etiquette was really on her Domme’s part anyway. She wasn’t more important than any of the other Dommes there, and what was to stop them all from sending their subs to the table? I was a bit put out over that.

Everything was scarfed up except for the pumpkin squares, a few of which made it through to breakfast the next day. It was too close to Thanksgiving, and not that many people are crazy about pumpkin. That was a risk I consciously took, because pumpkin fit in with my ‘fall bounty’ theme. The people that like pumpkin were very enthusiastic about them (Dee loved them, so I was glad I made them for that reason alone), but they weren’t all eaten. I won’t do any more pumpkin stuff for the camp out. Even the half-set chocolate pie was devoured – I should have known my chocolate people would eat it. I did have a bite off of Joanne’s piece, and it did taste great; it just looked kind of goopy. I had a bite of the apple pie too, and my crust was not tough, as I had feared. Mikah particularly enjoyed it. I had a bite of pound cake also, and it turned out good – that is a great recipe. There was one little sliver left when I went up there, and I just cut a bit off of it.

Gene later told me that mine was the best carrot cake he had ever eaten - including his grandmother's. I took that as high praise indeed since that is his favorite dessert. His wife later told me that they were talking about it, and he had mentioned that he wanted me to make one just for him because he only got one piece of this one. They live up in North Carolina. "Would you come all the way down here just to get a cake?" She asked him. "If he made me a cake like that every weekend, I'd marry him." he replied. I fucking live for that shit.

Then it was time to clear up and get ready for play time. Also, there was a cabin-decorating contest. Only two cabins had been decorated, but I wanted to see what they had done. I tagged along behind the judges. Carmina and Adder were rooming with Dee and his lovely new girlfriend Meg. They had decorated inside and out, had a fog machine, lights, etc. When we went inside, they had Meg tied to the bed and were doing a needle-play scene on her. Dee and Carmina were dressed up like demented doctors. It was way cool. The second cabin was a new group of folks. They hadn’t done the inside, but had one of the girls in saran-wrap mummification on a massage table on the front porch. Also cool.

After the judging we headed back to the dungeon. Russ had a heavy evening planned – two erotic shavings and some sound play he was going to set up and demo for another Domme. But there was a problem. A group of new folks in on a day pass had set up a scene in the dungeon. That wasn’t the issue. It’s a communal play space and everyone can play – that’s part of what you pay for. They were doing a spanking scene that just went on and on and on. That wasn’t the problem. There is a certain courtesy involved in not tying up a piece of equipment all evening when people are waiting to play, but the LOCK group is generally pretty good about that kind of thing. They don’t set up a ‘max time’ or anything like that. Scenes tend to be fairly organic, and sometimes you have to go where they take you. The problem was that the girl being spanked was SCREAMING HER HEAD OFF for about an hour and a half straight.

‘OWIEOWIEOWIEOWIEOWIEOWIEOUCHOUCHOUCHITHURTSITHURTSITHURTS!!!’ On and on and on – in a LOUD, shrill, grating, high-pitched little-girl voice. To make it more annoying, he didn't seem to be really doing that much to her - her ass was still as white as cream cheese (and after this week I know that color, frankly), and her back was barely pink (she did have a few marks on her back by the end of the scene). Russ was doing the shaving and sound play scene at the time that I wanted to see, but the din was so awful and distracting that I just couldn’t enjoy it. I had to go outside. The guy Russ was playing with lost his headspace and wasn’t enjoying the scene. To top things off, they started doing some kind of chasing thing through the dungeon and bumped Russ’s station twice – while he was working with a straight razor on this guy's crotch. He was so disgusted he ended the scene and left the dungeon. He canceled his other stuff was pretty pissed off about it. Carmina and Adder were doing a very intense cutting scene, but as into each other as they were they couldn’t maintain headspace in such an atmosphere. There was another group of people sitting near them, having a conversation that got louder and louder as ‘Screaming Meme’ ramped up. When they entered Carmina’s space while she was wielding a scalpel, she was so pissed she threw a chair at them. Carmina is not to be fucked with, which is one of the reasons I adore her. She and Adder left the dungeon too.

Since play was out, a little disgruntled knot of us kind of conglomerated in front of the lodge and went up the hill to smoke. Russ was in high dudgeon, and not unjustifiably. The Saturday night banquet and play party is the heart of the camp out. To have it spoiled in such a way was very disappointing. This is the problem with a public group like LOCK. LOCK fosters new people. It’s an entryway into the community. That’s a noble thing and service to the community. But because of that you have to put up with new people who haven’t come up through the ranks in the old way. They haven’t been taught protocol, respect, or manners. The majority of new people come from the internet where they have been playing virtually online and think they know everything already. The internet can be a valuable tool, and you can learn a lot there, but as with most things you have to actually do it to know about it. Learning BDSM online is the equivalent of being home-schooled. When you finally get out into the real world, there are some social adjustments you’re going to have to make.

After a vigorous gripe session on the hill, we drifted back down to the lodge. There was a guy there named Russ (another Russ), that I had spent some time with this weekend. I had met him and his wife at other events and they’re always very nice to me, but she couldn’t come this time. He had mentioned wanting to play, but at this point I had just written it off. I was pretty bummed because it looked like I wasn’t going to get to play this weekend. It was getting late, and I felt like I was too tired to do a scene.

We sat talking as people started drifting to bed. The banshee scene was finally over and other people had moved through and played finally, but it was late. Rob walked up and started talking to us, and asked if I wanted to play. I said sure, but didn’t really think it would happen. Rob is straight, and although he plays with Mikah, I didn’t think he would really be that into playing with me. Plus I was a little unsure of what the energy would be like. I am sexually attracted to Rob, and I didn’t know how comfortable he would be with that, and how it would affect the energy between us. We haven’t played before. I figured he was just trying to be nice. He is a hell of a nice guy. So I just kind of let it lie, and continued sitting and talking.

But he was serious. Eventually, he walked over, reached down, and said “Come on. Get up. We’re going to do this.” OK. I wasn’t going to say no. I went in and we talked a bit. Rob has seen me play before. He knows what I like, and approximately what my limits are. Rob isn’t a Dom – which is sometimes just fine. Sometimes I find protocol a distraction, because sometimes you just want a whoopin. I told him that I might need a bit more warm-up than usual. K had hit me with my new paddle this afternoon, and a bit harder than I had thought she would. I was feeling a bit bruisy.

Rob spent a long time warming me up. Which can be a good thing. By the time he was really ready to go, I was ready to beg for it. I really needed this. This was the first time we had played, and he really didn’t push my limits, but he did a good job of establishing head space. I didn’t really have to work at it, it was just there. He was also a lot more comfortable playing with a guy than I expected. He wasn’t afraid to get up close, touch, and be tender when he was giving me a break. That was really nice. He didn’t spend as much time on my ass as I like – I really like my ass beat – but that’s because he’s used to playing with Joanne, and she can’t take a lot on her ass. She does like to be flogged on her lower back though, oddly. That’s an area you usually avoid. I knew he couldn’t really hurt me with a flogger, but eventually it got to the point that it was interfering with my headspace. I had to say something. That’s a lot easier with a top than it is with a Dom, and another reason why it’s good to play with a top sometimes, but I hate to stop a scene. I waited until I really didn’t have a choice. He did warm up to hitting me on my shoulders though. That’s another area Joanne has problems with, but I really love to be worked there. Eventually, he put two floggers in one hand and just went at it with deep thuds. That was great!

He also surprised me, which I love. Usually a top will throw a few false throws, to keep you on your toes, and to rest a bit. They throw the flogger at your back but don’t make contact. Rob had this thing where he did that repeatedly, enough that it kind of set up a wind going by me. Almost instantly, my headspace became that I was a dry leaf skittering over a frozen pond – wheeeeee. I was off to the races. That was really cool.

He didn’t give me all I wanted, but then I tend to ask for more than I can take so that was good. He knew when I was done. We both were I think. We had been at it for a while, and he had worked up a sweat. When I got down off the cross, I got down on my knees in preparation for kissing his feet. It’s my ‘thank you’ thing. It feels right to me and properly respectful. But Rob isn’t used to that, because Joanne isn’t submissive at all. When I got down on my knees, Rob got down on his knees with me. It was so sweet. I was touched.

So it ended up being a lovely evening, and I got to dance at the ball after all. We sat out on the porch for a while. I wanted to enjoy that lovely, drifty, post-scene feeling. We eventually wandered over to the cabin. I went to bed quite content, my back buzzing pleasantly. Ah, the camp out. Good times.

A post in which the camp out begins!

I remembered this morning that I had an extra triple-cheese bean dip in the freezer, and that would work to take to the covered dish tonight. I got it out to thaw. That means I’ll have to wrestle with a hot dish tonight, but it’s better than phoning it in. I have a rep to protect. I stopped at CVS on my way to work for sleeping pills and chips so I wouldn’t be delayed tonight in getting up the mountain.

Because of all the drama with Jason, and the insomnia problems I’ve been having this week, I wasn’t as excited as I usually am about going, but I knew I would have a good time this weekend. I always do.

My handyman finally called me today about running my dryer vent out from under the house. I
took my lunch hour to go home to meet him and let him in, only to find that the crawl space was already unlocked. Alan is such a nice guy. When I got home, I found his bill and the receipts for everything he had bought. He had bought a roll of duct tape and left me the rest of the roll.

dana came by the house for a minute, but I was too busy loading up and getting ready to go. She didn’t stay long. I didn’t have tons of stuff I was taking, so the car was loaded in fairly short order. Since all the desserts were frozen, I just packed them on up tonight. I didn’t make anything that has to be assembled tomorrow, thank goodness.

I got to the campground, stowed the desserts, and started greeting people. I saw a good many people I knew, but there were a bunch of new faces this weekend. Carmina and Adder were there. Joanne, Rob, and Mikah were there of course – they were staying in our cabin. There was a Dom from Columbia named Archer. He’s very sexy. His partner, Elegant, couldn’t come and he was staying in the room with Steve and me.

Dee, a boi I know from Columbia, was there for the weekend. I was delighted to see him, as always, but somewhat surprised meet the lovely young girl in service to him. Dee had been a submissive prior, as far as I know, and not usually into the lipstick variety; but the girl, Meg, was so sweet that I was half in love with her myself within about half an hour. Dee also put her at my disposal this weekend, should I need anything. This is a mark of great favor, and a tremendous sign of trust for a Dom. I was touched and greatly honored.

Mostly people were on the smoking porch talking tonight. It’s always the center of the gathering. But everyone seemed kind of laid back, and there wasn’t a lot of play tonight. Sometimes people are so anxious to play that they get worn out on Friday and then everyone goes to bed early on Saturday. Not this weekend.

The bean dip was a big hit, and was gone pretty quickly. There wasn’t a ton of stuff out for the covered dish tonight, but there was enough.

I went off on a little tour with Russ, and felt much more loquacious when we got back. We went down the “haunted trail” they had set up on the way to the fire pit with a couple of people, and we got into a joke off.

But most of the people there had worked today, and we turned in pretty early for a camp out.

A post in which I am worn out with drama

I was pretty upset last night and this morning, but you just can’t maintain that level of drama and be functional. I had work to do, plus I have the camp out coming up. I look forward to that, and it’s only twice a year. I just decided to focus on that, and try to worry about the Jason situation later. I pretty much know he’s going to go, and I just have to get used to the idea. I don’t like it, but I get used to lots of things I don’t like. Hell, I went through eight years with W in the White House.

But it was still kind of like waiting for a loved one to come out of surgery. I waited all day.

I went and got my back cracked.

I finished the day at work. No word from Jason.

I did have a nice little bright spot this afternoon. I had talked to Paul yesterday and asked him to send me BB’s china pattern off of the dishes that Cindy has. He responded today with the pattern! I finally have it! Wedgwood Montreal, pattern #AL 9346. I decided that since I couldn’t have BB’s dishes, if different friends and family get me pieces of china for Christmas and the like, I would still have my memories of BB, but I’d also have the love of my friends. The dishes would really still be family pieces. The pattern is really easy to find on eBay, and the base pieces aren’t terribly expensive. The bread and butter plates for this pattern of Wedgwood are cheaper than the ones for my Depression Glass set. I sent out an email asking my friends to please get me individual pieces if they were looking for a Christmas gift idea. I felt a little cheesy about doing that, but I didn’t know of any other way to get the idea out.

I finally went on to the grocery store after work, and Jason called me about 6. He didn’t call the guy back today as he was supposed to. He just can’t make up his mind what to do. Water signs. We talked all the way through the grocery store. He asked me if he moved would this be the end of us. I told him it would be easy to give him the answer he wanted, but I know myself too well. I’m 42. I’m not starting a long-distance relationship with a guy four hours away. I need someone around. I need someone I can do things with; like go to dinner or watch a movie. It sounds very romantic to say “nothing will keep us apart”, but the truth of the matter is that a couple of hundred miles does a pretty good job of it. I loathe driving. I don’t see my family but a couple of times a year because they live a little over two hours away. Frankly if I wanted a long distance thing I could have started it years ago.

I just finally told him tonight that I think he’s going to have to go. It’s just too good of an opportunity for him to turn it down. He took the opposite view at that point, and we discussed both sides until I told him he had just used up all my nobility for the day. The position I took was the last one I wanted to be defending. He said he’s going to talk to some more people at the school tomorrow. So the waiting continues.

Either I just don’t feel that deeply, or my nerves have just been stretched to the breaking point, because I just had to lay it down.

As usual, I headed for the kitchen for solace. I spent the evening pickling onions and trying to duplicate that sandwich I had at work the other week. It turned out to be pretty simple. It crossed my mind that I doubted that the cafeteria at work was mincing fresh basil for mayonnaise. I read some online recipes and had a eureka moment. I picked up some jarred pesto sauce at the store, mixed it with mayo at home, added a little lemon juice; and boom goes the dynamite – instant deliciousness. I ate two big ole sandwiches. I’m feeling really tired tonight, and I’m allowing myself extra calories for fighting off illness. Almost there. If I can just feel decent and not be contagious this weekend, it doesn’t matter if I feel like crap next week or not, I don’t have anything to do but work. And after every hacking Typhoid Mary has dragged their disease-ridden carcass into the office, I’m not going to worry about doing it. Pretty much everyone in the office (besides me) has already had this round of nastiness anyway.

While I ate, I watched most of a Bette Davis movie I hadn’t seen before, called Old Acquaintance. It was a cracking good movie, Bette at the top of her wise-cracking, cigarette-puffing form. It was a lovely escape.

After the movie went off, I knew I had things I needed to do, but I was having a very hard time getting motivated. I was very tired. Eventually I put some stuff together for the camp out, which was what I was supposed to be doing tonight. I found the little tiny slutty shorts I bought in Atlanta with this event in mind. Then I remembered that I haven't made anything for the covered dish tomorrow night. I got out the recipe I was going to make, only to find that it took 48 hours to make it. I'm just going to have to phone it in and bring chips or something tomorrow. I didn't have the energy to go back to the store and start in again tonight.

I cleaned up the kitchen, which I had destroyed with sandwich ingredient experiments, and went to bed.

A post in which I indulge in some drama

This old Streisand song was floating around in my head this morning, so I put it on while I was getting ready for work today:

With One More Look at You

With one more look at you
I could learn to tame the clouds
And let the sun shine through
Leave a troubled past and I might start anew
I'll solve the mysteries if you're the prize
Refresh these tired eyes
With one more look at you
I might overcome the anger
That I learned to know
Find a piece of mind I lost so long ago
Your gentle touch has made me strong again
And I belong again
For when you look at me
I'm everything and more that I had dreamed I'd be
My spirit feels a promise
I won't be alone
We'll love and live more
Love and live forever
With one more look at you
I'd learn to change the stars
And change our fortunes too
I'd have the constellations paint your portrait too
So all the world might share this wondrous sight
The world could end each night
With one more look at you
With one more look at you
I want one more look at you

Because no one really wants to hear this. We're all gearing up for the campout. I had so been looking forward to it, but now I really don't feel like going. That of course would be tiresome for my friends. I mean I've only known this guy for two weeks - on Saturday. I can't lay down and die every time I go out with a guy and it doesn't work out.

I didn't even feel like I could call anyone last night on my way home. It just felt like a drama queen thing to do. I'll live. I've lived through everything else.

I called Jason this morning and apologized for leaving last night. I explained that I just didn't know what else to do. I sucked it up and told him that I was prepared to be noble today. He's supposed to call the guy with the decision by lunchtime.

A post in which I get supper and a bombshell

It’s ironic that yesterday my biggest gripe was that it was raining and my desserts were ugly.

I went to supper with Jason last night. After a very nice meal we went back to his place. When we walked in the door, he told me he had two things to tell me:

1. He loves me, and can’t remember ever feeling so close to someone in such a short period of time.

2. He is probably going to move to Raleigh, NC – over four hours away.

The principal where he’s teaching now had assured him that it would be no problem for him to get a job here, and that he thought he could swing health insurance for while he’s subbing for the Latin class he’s teaching at present. That was when Jason had told me he was staying in Greenville, and I had relaxed my guard. Today he changed the story completely, told him there were no positions open, and he didn’t know when there would be. Since Jason is certified to teach English, they were going to try to get the certification opened so he could be approved to teach Latin; but they told him today that they were unable to do that, and unable to offer him health insurance. Additionally, since he is classified as a substitute for the Latin class, he makes less money, and isn’t paid year round as regular teachers are.

Yesterday they called him from Raleigh to offer him a great teaching position with full benefits, making great money, and the possibility of advancement to a departmental director’s position because he has his Master’s Degree.

Jason is torn, and doesn’t know what he’s going to do, but felt that he had to tell me this. I would just as soon he waited until the decision had been made, actually. He’s supposed to call the guy with his decision tomorrow. It was just as much of a shock today as it would have been tomorrow, only without the uncertainty; but frankly I don’t see how he can refuse.

Needless to say this was pretty much out of the blue for me, and I was rather stunned by the news. But there wasn’t anything I could say. We only met two weeks ago. I can’t ask him to stay, although the selfish 5-year-old inside was yelling – loudly – that I do just that. To tell him how I felt would amount to emotional blackmail. I can’t tell him I love him. We haven’t known each other long enough. I can’t tell him about the future together that up until tonight just seemed fated, because that’s something that really might not happen. I can’t promise that.

So really I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. If I beg him to stay, I would be making promises I’m not really ready to make. I don’t think a two-week-old relationship can stand the strain of that kind of sacrifice – plus I’d be giving up nothing. I think at some point he would be bound to resent that. On the other hand I’m just too selfish to tell him to go. I am remembering vividly when my mother came to me before she moved in with Gearl, and told me that’s what they wanted to do, but that Gearl wouldn’t live with me. I told Mom to do what she needed to do to be happy, and not to worry about me. This despite the fact that it meant I had to move back in with my Dad. I lived some pretty miserable years based on that decision. I just wasn’t feeling that noble tonight. I’m also remembering when I had to step in and get Michael (who moved here for me, and loathed every minute of it, and never let me forget how much he hated it here) organized and packed before he left even though it was killing me to do it. He just didn’t seem to be able to do it on his own. How many times am I going to be required to shove a knife in my own heart for someone I care for? I know love requires sacrifice, but it shouldn’t be all fucking sacrifice, right?

Of course he told me I could move to Raleigh also, and I could, but that’s the same quandary I’ve been facing for the last three years – weighing the entire rest of my life: my job, my house, my family, and my friends –against something that might happen. I don’t know that that would be any better than his staying here. I’m not ready to do that for a 2-week-old relationship.

And if I let him walk away I’m going to feel like chump.

So either way I’m pretty much fucked here.

I couldn’t say anything to him. I have no right to keep him, but I don’t want to let him go. So I said as little as possible and just left. He had a lot of thinking to do and I couldn’t do anything but muddy the waters. Plus it was killing me to have to sit there and be quiet when I really wanted to curse the fates, the gods, whoever/whatever it is that keeps showing me the good stuff and then taking it away from me. I had just gotten over the whole M thing, had just reached out again, only to have my dick slammed in the door.

Heartsick, I went and got a pack of cigarettes and smoked all the way home. Because that’s productive and helpful.

Two quotes are running through my head:

“You can have a hot job, a hot lover, and a hot place to live. But not all at the same time.” Armistead Maupin

“Lucky at cards, unlucky in love.” Idiom

I should be better at fucking cards.

A post in which I finalize some things, and curse the rain

Rain, rain, rain. For days. Endlessly. I feel like I could do a Herman Melville wave chapter on rain. I woke up this morning to rain, drank my coffee on the porch looking at the rain, ran errands today in the rain, and drove home in a particularly nasty cold blowy rain.

I was het up this morning. In a stressed-out mood that I just couldn’t seem to shake. I always work myself up to a trauma when I’m cooking for the LOCK camp out, and usually things are going better than they have this year. But I don’t usually wake up still stressed about it. I was so tired when I went to bed last night that I slept straight through until 6:15am. I don’t even think I turned over. But I woke up still fretting. I told myself that it would be fine, and that I needed to lay this down, but no dice. I’m glad I finish the cooking tonight.

I was pretty discouraged, so I sent Jason some flowers to cheer me up. He had never had anyone send him flowers before, and I decided it was high time someone did. He called me later, and was pretty happy about it.

Work was fairly uneventful today, except for the damp trip to the attorney’s office. I finished the last of the paperwork on my re-finance on the house today, so only a week for the bank to process and then I’m supposed to get my money. Naïve me, I believed that I would get a check today because the mortgage lady at the bank said I would get it “at closing”. Again, I’ve waited this long, another week won’t kill me.

When I got off today, all I could think about was sandwiches. I had one from the cafeteria here at work a week or so ago, and it was so good I’ve been craving another one ever since. Steve here makes this really great basil mayonnaise that is absolutely scrummy, and I haven’t been able to find a reasonable facsimile. Also, it was on marble rye bread, and when I’m at the store I feel like I have to buy bread with more fiber in it. What I would really like to have is one of those wonderful subs from the Red Barn (a sandwich shop that used to be here), but sadly they have been out of business for a long time. Tonight I compromised by going by Blimpie on the way home. They used to have the best Philly Steak sub I have ever eaten. They did the beef with onions in the crock pot, so it was all tender, juicy, and unimaginably delicious. I haven’t gone in since I stopped eating meat because I was afraid of the temptation. They also used to use real bread, not those tasteless matchstick baguettes that Subway uses. It was a measure of my sandwich lust that I got out again in the yucky, cold, drippy mess to get it after cursing the weather all the way from work.

The crock pot was not in evidence, which was fine. They had a sandwich on the menu that approximated the one I had at work as far as ingredients go, although of course they didn’t have the special mayo. But Blimpie has gone over to the dark Subway side as far as bread goes. At this point though, I didn’t care. I got a foot long super veggie with three (count ‘em three) decadent cheeses and the works, along with a cup of broccoli cheese soup that was, as promised, wonderful. The guy working there was a sweetheart. He’s Indian, and a vegetarian as well. He has never eaten meat in his life. We commiserated a bit about being veggie here, and I think I disappointed him by ordering the soup even though it had some chicken stock in it.

Then all I wanted to do was get home. I had decided to come home through town, fearing the highway and the Greenvillian Water Madness. Unfortunately, this was the decision favored by all the white-knucklers today. I went into downtown going 25 miles per hour. I ended up behind one on Augusta Road futzing along at 20. I was losing my mind, and just laying on the horn. I hardly ever do that, but I was just out of patience. I'm quite sure I racked up some time in purgatory today, if there is such (I know that sloth is a sin - is undue impatience haste?) (wait, I guess that would come under wrath). I was ravenous for this sandwich (so yeah, gluttony too *sigh*), and I had a pie to bake tonight as well (the last one – yay!).

But, as usual, the sandwich wasn’t as good as the one I had before. I still scarfed it down because I was just perishing for it by the time I got home. The soup was thick, creamy, and gorgeous. I wished I had gotten a larger soup and a smaller sandwich. Dinner dutifully and quickly dispatched (I’m an ardent member of the clean plate club); I started working on my pie. Since my experimental crust from last weekend didn’t pass muster (to me anyway), I dug out an old peach cobbler recipe my friend Bernadette had sent me many years ago. Her crust for this cobbler was wonderful, tender and buttery, but Bernadette is much better at pastry than I am. I put the crust together (it took some persuasion, but I got it to hold together eventually) and stuck it in the fridge to chill while I got my apples ready. I ran out of brandy, so I supplemented with some praline liqueur as well. Then I get this big lump of cold pie crust out of the fridge and realize that I have no way to roll it out (I don't own a rolling pin, being crust-phobic). You can’t pat out real pie crust, so I got out a jar of okra and rolled it out as best I could. I’m sure I overworked the pastry and it will be tough as shoe leather. But I put it all together and stuck it in the oven with great relief. The pie has three-quarters of a pound of butter in it. How bad can it be, right?

I cleaned up some, but stopped to call my mother. I needed moral support. Mom is a cook too, so she knows how it is when things don’t go right. When I was appropriately soothed we made plans for Thanksgiving. Meanwhile, my phone was beeping. I figured it was Jason trying to call, but I just couldn’t seem to get off the call with Mom.

When I eventually called Jason back, he didn’t answer. I returned to cleaning up the kitchen. When the phone rang, I assumed it was Jason, but it was actually Michael. I was chatting with him when the phone beeped again, but I was getting all the poop (well some of it, anyway) on his new beau. Plus he almost never calls me. Plus he didn’t talk about work the whole time, which was lovely.

While I was on the phone with Michael, I pulled my pie out of the oven. It is gorgeous. It really looks like an illustration in a cookbook or something. My topping rose up in pillowy, perfectly browned tufts over those beautiful apples. Too bad that bottom crust is going to be so tough. I’ll have to warn people with dentures to proceed with caution, and put a knife on the table. But it does at least look good.

Eventually, I did call Jason back, and we had a nice conversation about our day, his flowers, and dinner tomorrow night. I’m looking forward to it.

I finished cleaning up the kitchen and went to bed, turning on the TV to drown out the noise of the wet nastiness still splatting all over my bedroom windows.

A post in which I am again cooking.

Eventually.

I’ve still got a lot of irons in the fire this week.

The first person in Credit came down with Swine Flu this week. One of the girls called in with H1N1. One of the women today went around spraying stuff in the office with Lysol. Of course she was here all last week, so it’s kind of moot at this point. And I’m more worried about my periodic squiffiness. I’m wondering if I should go on to the doctor this week.

I called Liberty Tap Room today and talked to the manager about how crappy our service was yesterday. It was a very interesting conversation. If everyone with me hadn’t had such a bad experience, I probably wouldn’t have called; I just wouldn’t have gone back. But the food was really good, and they are just around the corner from me as well. When I started talking, the manager interrupted me to ask who my server had been. When I told him, he said “Ah. Yes. This isn’t the first complaint I’ve had about him. He came in with a really bad attitude yesterday, and I let him go. I probably shouldn’t have waited until the end of his shift.” He was very nice about it, and apologized. He’s also going to comp part of the meal the next time we come in, which I thought was decent of him. That really wasn’t why I called, but since he was so nice I’ll go back in now. Plus the food really was good.

Afterwards I talked to Laura, and we discussed what happened yesterday. She invited me again to come watch the game at their house tonight. I would really, really love to go, but I just have to get the baking done. I might be able to fudge a night, but Jason wants to go to dinner Wednesday, and the way my luck in the kitchen has been running lately, I just don’t think I can take another night off. I just really hate to have to turn down an invitation to Kimblee and Laura’s house!

I got a pleasant surprise in the mail today at work, which just hardly ever happens. One of my agencies sent me a gift certificate for dinner at one of my favorite Indian restaurants, Saffron. They said it was just a Thanksgiving thing. I'm pretty stoked about that. I guess I'll take Jason out for Indian. He says he loves curry, which is another great thing about him.

I talked to the attorney who’s doing the closing on the re-finance on the house, and apparently I’m ready to close now, so I’ll be doing that tomorrow. I’m really ready to get that done and get my window guy started. The windows aren’t ordered until they get the deposit. Maybe other people plan better than I do, and there won’t be tons of people having new windows put in over the holidays. If so I could get them a bit sooner, which would be nice.

I had to run errands all the way home. Of course I had to go by the store. I was dangerously low on butter and eggs, so I got them. I also hadn’t bought the regular groceries for the week and had to pick up a couple of things.

I had a dilemma on what to do with the ugly pie I made yesterday. Clearly serving it at the campout was out of the question. Then I remembered that one of the dancer’s boys next door had said that anything I didn’t want they would eat. I went over and talked to Frankie, and she said sure, to bring the pie on over. So I did. I was embarrassed to take it to them, but it’s better than throwing it away. If they do it, fine, but I can’t just throw food away. She's getting me tickets to see Nutcracker again this year too, which will be nice :). She's dancing the Sugar Plum Fairy this year, which is exciting. She is so graceful and lovely.

I got another chocolate chess pie in the oven and ate supper while it baked. I ran completely out of sugar making that pie. Unbelievable. I started baking with about seven pounds of sugar and ran out. Of course having to make stuff &*^%$#@!! twice doesn’t help with that. So I had to go back to the store.

When I got back I cleaned up the kitchen and made icing, then iced the carrot cake. The icing tasted great but it was for a sheet cake, not a layer cake, so it wasn’t quite as firm as it needed to be for what I was doing. So it kept kind of globbing down the sides of the cake. I worked on it for a while, remembering that I don’t usually do layer cakes specifically because they end up looking like Home Economics 'D' projects. Eventually I just realized it wasn’t going to look any better, and threw it in the freezer. So it will taste fine, and fortunately it looks like gluing the layers a bit with icing (to hold them together, they were a bit crumbly) seemed to work, but it looks like something Shrek might have made. I hope Gene likes his homely cake.

After I cleaned all that up, I started on the pumpkin squares. That is a fairly easy recipe, thank God, but I was so tired I managed to make a mistake on that one too, although fortunately a minor one. The streusel that goes over the top is made of nuts, sugar, butter and cake mix. I forgot to put the extra sugar in. As a result, my streusel actually rose partially. Once again, it should taste fine, but it looks kind of like I left the cake out in the rain and some kind of fungus grew on it. So I have MacArthur Park pumpkin squares.

By the end of the cleanup from that one, my legs were killing me. I took some aspirins and went to bed. I’m worn out. I’m not as discouraged as I was last night, but this is going to be the ugliest batch of desserts I have ever made for the campout. I took heart from the count though; four down and one to go. All I have left to make is the apple cobbler.