You're having a dream. It's a great sensuous, romantic, erotic dream with a man (or woman) who you only see as body parts, the face never comes quite into focus. In the back of your mind you hear your alarm clock going off, beeping at you to wake up. But your dream lover is kissing your lips and sucking your toes at the same time and (even though it would usually be anatomically impossible) it's very arousing and you are distracted from the real world. Eventually the beeping just disappears from your reality. The sensual dance in bed goes on and on. You have endless build up to orgasms and sometimes an orgasm or sometimes just a tease towards a better orgasm later.

Eventually it has to end as all things must have a beginning and then an end. You go to work, very late, but very relaxed and glowing. There's a meeting scheduled and all staff must attend. More boring blah blah blah about some work related issues or another. A man in a nice suit walks by you on his way up to the front, he must be the speaker. Something about him... he has a lovely, familiar smell. As he speaks you notice his hands. Great hands, great hands that have touched you before... yet you've never seen his face.

Then he looks right at you... and winks. Not just any wink. A real scandalous, teasing, tomcat wink. How can it be your dream man is right there, real? Of course, that leads to the bigger question... do you stand there like a deer caught in the headlights or do you run like mad?!!

You make a wish, just something flippant. How could you have known there was a genie in a bad mood standing nearby? Your wish is granted. Whatever it was. It wasn't something you really wanted so how do you get the genie to take the wish back? After all you can't go around the rest of your life with an extra hole in your head.

It's been quite awhile since I really wrote anything. Laziness? Possibly. I do think of things to write. Then something else distracts me. For instance, I am still working on a post for Thursday Thirteen. Kind of sad that is it now Saturday in some places in the world, 11:48 PM here. I'm trying to work on an article about rural exploration, which I actually wrote last year, wrote again a few months ago and have spinning around in my head again this week. I'd be so proud to see not only my article but my photos appear in one of our nationally well known Canadian publications, Canadian Living or Chatelaine. It's a lofty goal perhaps.

I went out on a couple of dates and didn't mention a thing about him. The first date was nice and I had hope for good things to come. I was wrong. He is ok but did not really show an interest in getting to know me. I asked about himself and he really only talked about a few special interests and did not answer about little things (not so little to me) that I wanted to know. Then we had a second date where he had to end it early for work, which was fine as he works on call. But then there was nothing except an email invite for kinky play.

I really want a relationship where I don't feel I'm alone, again. What is the point if you don't have someone you can talk to and know he is listening and actually cares about what you say? Maybe I will just never find anyone at this late stage in the dating game. All of the men I have tried to meet seem to end up in the same boat. None of them want to get to know me. I really want a guy I can spend time with, out of a bedroom. Don't men want that too? Sure I like sex and in past relationships (all two of them) I have lead in that area. But, I want more! I want romance! I want to be courted and have flowers brought when I get picked up. Yes, Eric did that once and that was lovely. But... it ended with me alone, abandoned without explanation. I had to tell him I was giving up on him and then he said something about why he had given up on me.

Anyway, relationships and dating posts are boring. Really. Aren't they all about the same? Do you really expect to find some great long lasting insight among all this space sucking babble? Good luck! I don't have anything figured out. When my life is perfect I'll get back to you with all those omniscient answers.

Tomorrow we are off early (early for me) to Elmvale. The town is a giant street/ garage sale. We are on the hunt for a summer bike for Zack, the 12 year old giant nephew. The boy is taller than I am now. Not right to call him a boy but he still has that boyishness and since he won't ever be in my age generation without the use of a time machine... he is stuck being the boy for awhile more at least.

Of course, I'd like to find another abandoned farm house during the trip.

Sadly, I am pretty much unemployed and having to watch my dollars. I found a $20 I had forgotten in my wallet yesterday so that was kind of sweet.

I do not want to get another job. I am sick of working. I just want to sit here and blog, write, watch brain killing TV (soap opera afternoons) and take road trips. Well, a few other things too but that's about it. I'm sick of customer service type junk. I'm so tired of obeying rules. How did old fashioned women stand taking the marriage vows knowing they were owned and had no rights. Even their children did not belong to them. I think it is strange that women went from primitive (though I think primitive is in doubt if they were bright enough to have a Matriarch) matriarchal societies to being servants in their own homes. How did we allow men to have the upper hand like that?

Doesn't it seem that women really do have a lot of power, in life. In the space of approximately nice months we cart around a new life. In that time we can decide to keep that life or let it go. Drastic yes. But, in some cases a woman should think of her own self preservation and that of the child to be born into the same world she lives in.

Although, I really don't think things between men and women should be about power. Or who is greater, etc. We need each other. In cases where men and women understand that I think the relationship can really flourish. So, here we are back to that dating thing again. Ick!

I should be shutting the computer down. It's been making more noise than it should be. I keep wondering what it is that is running against my wishes or directions. Windows has really evolved into a little monster. You never really know what the MS creature inside your computer is doing. Likely eating sections of my hard drive on a whim.

It is getting hotter tonight. I thought it was decent all day. Warm and muggy outside but I hid in here under the fan all day and it just seemed breezy to me. Now it is after midnight and it seems the heat has leaked into my sanctuary. I'm anti summer when it comes to heat and humidity. I'd rather have a snowstorm, a blizzard would be just peachy too. The only redeeming feature of summer is the greenery and edibles, peaches come to mind right away. I was thinking of peach pie yesterday. Nothing like peach pie made at home.

Well, this should be enough babble for anyone to read. Likely you are all drooling over your keyboards or shaking your head in an effort to keep your eyes from closing. Wake up and get a fresh coffee or get to bed. Nightie night blogging people.

A flying saucer lands in your backyard. Yeah, those kids next door are practicing juggling with the dishes again. You gather up the remains and take them over. A babysitter is home with the kids. She's cute, chatty and isn't sure what to do with the broken dishes. You stash them in the kitchen sink. Just in case the parents want to try gluing them back together again versus buying yet another new set of dishes.

Walking back to your place the shrubberies are shaking. You hear giggles and squeals with whispers here and there, until you whip around and scare the cooties out of the little brats. Pretty funny. Pretty funny until the real space alien flattens the shrubbery and snarls right in your face.

You can run, but you really should say something first. What witty remark do you make before taking off?

Your favourite bra is missing. It's the only one you really want to wear tonight so you keep looking around the house, checking the laundry, behind the couch, under the bed, but no luck. Eventually you notice something flapping outside in the breeze. Why does it not surprise you to find your bra out there, flying from a pole stuck in the ground. After all, you-know-who is visiting.

Who is you-know-who?