Es Ee Ex

I know it's rather old fashioned to spell out the word sex like I did in the title of this post. And maybe I am old fashioned in some ways! For instance, I remember the good old days when couples actually had sex. I know, hard to believe but true!

Back then, it seemed like you could hardly keep from doing it. There was the hot clinches in the back seats of cars, the making out where you could kiss for hours, and do everything but the real thing. Then when I was a young married with children there always seemed to be time for at least a quickie most nights, and more detailed excursions when time permitted.

As I get into middle age (some may point out that I have been there for a while!), I read magazines and books about the lack of intimacy, and I listen to my friends talk about sex like it is a dying activity. Recently while having lunch with a couple of old friends (both married, mind you), I found that I was the only one who could claim to have copulated within the last couple of years. I almost felt that same guilty pleasure I did from those first forbidden sexual encounters as a teen.

If you watch any sports programs on television, there are enough Viagra, Levitra, and Cialis commercials to suggest that any man over 40 can't even accomplish the act without medical enhancement. Even those who are younger than my cronies talk about kids and jobs and taking care of a household, and being too tired to want to make love anymore.

I just want to say that I think it is time to bring sex back! What if instead of watching that TV program or playing that computer game, we took one night a week, and just made out on the couch like old times? How about reading a racy novel, and then letting your partner get the benefit of the excitement it causes? How about just making sex as much a priority as mowing the lawn? Once a week, is that too much to ask for? And for those of you who are in middle age or above, I have just one word for you: Astroglide.

I hope this gets you thinking and doing!

Marquita

Alpha Who?

This week, I have been thinking a lot about our relationships with our pets instead of humans. My love of the last eleven years, Riff, (he's the one in the photo) decided on Friday that he wanted to go to the great hunting grounds in the sky.

Riff and I have always had a somewhat complicated relationship. I wasn't sure I even wanted to get involved with him from the start. My co-workers had picked him up wandering around the state park where I worked, saving him from incarceration in doggie jail. They found his temporary owners, and were told he needed a new home, as he had been abandoned by his original owner. I was still grieving the loss of my last canine love, and was not sure I was ready for a new one. We met, and although we kind of liked each other, weren't sure it would work. As I often did in relationships, I took him home anyway!

From the start there was conflict. He felt he should be the Alpha male, and although he would concede living with me most of the time, he was a wanderer. I tried to keep him at home, but at some point just decided it was up to him and his higher power to take care of him. For those first few years, he stayed with me most of the time, but would occasionally find other families he liked in the neighborhood and he would move in with them for a while. He became the wing man of Looker, the neighborhood Alpha dog, and they kept it safe for all who entered. Riff loved to walk to the beach, and would go on his own, or with many of the neighbors on their daily sojourns. He became rather famous in Irondale where I lived.

Then the trouble started. He loved to chase cars. He got ran over several times, and suffered a broken pelvis. Reluctantly, he began to see that I was the one who took care of him, and he grudgingly let me believe I was his Alpha female, and he quit wandering. When my husband entered the picture about eight years ago, it was clear to Riff that Tom was an Omega like him, and should be treated as an equal. This never changed, he always saw him as a brother, and me the pack leader.

Five years ago, we moved to Discovery Bay, and Riff lost much of the freedom he had known in our old neighborhood. To get to the beach from here meant crossing a busy highway, and we knew he could not resist the temptation. He settled into middle age, and this last year had suddenly seemed much older. It didn't help that I brought home a large bratty one and a half year old female named Opa. When he injured himself jumping a small ditch last week, I knew that he wanted to go. I was with him at the last, and I loved him deeply. I miss him so!

Marquita

Breathing Space

Just before I began writing this post, my husband called. He was letting me know when he would be home because we are going to a concert together this evening. I asked about dinner and he said "Maybe we can pick up some drive through on the way." I replied, "I think we'll have time to sit down somewhere." I could sense him getting tense and his reply was curt. I recognized that his "on time or two hours early" sensor had gone off. My first reaction was to get tense back, but then I relaxed and suggested we decide later. How did I relax? By breathing.

Breathing is often dismissed by most as something that just happens with very little input from us. We breathe, we live. But as I become more conscious of how I want to be, with myself and others, I find stopping to breathe can solve many problems. For instance, I know someone who has just broken up with her boyfriend, and she can't stop thinking about him, can't stop trying to change things, can't do anything. My suggestion to her was to take a couple of deep breaths and relax into her grief. Why, because when we are willing to do that the pain moves through much more easily, and we become stronger. She followed this suggestion, and took a few breaths, had a good cry, and realized that she can handle the situation.

The other place where breathing works is in following our intuition. This morning while walking my dogs, I lost my keys. Usually this wouldn't be a big problem, as I rarely go off road. Today was different. I took my critters through a large field, over a trail through some brush, and then up a logging road in the woods. When I got home, and reached for my keys to unlock the door they were gone. I panicked a little. I took off to retrace my steps and the first time I went back over the path, I hurried and worried. Then, I stopped. I realized what I wasn't doing, which was stopping and breathing. I took a couple of much needed breaths, and asked the universe and my instincts to help me out. Going back over my path a second time, I slowed down and paid attention. When I got to this spot that my dog had balked at going over on the first walk through, she balked again. I noticed this time, and looked down, and their magically were my keys. I had completely missed them when I was going hurriedly through and not paying attention.

Breathing can solve many situations, from anxiety and frustration, to reconnecting with out intuition. Do you have anything going on that is upsetting, or disturbing you right now? Well, take a couple of deep breaths, and relax into whatever it is, you will find the answer.

Take care,

Marquita

Cups of Love

As most of you know, I am supposed to be some kind of relationship expert and coach. Primarily this is due to my long history of bad relationships and then finally getting my head out of "you know where" and learning how to do it right. This does not mean however, that I don't occasionally fall back into old thought patterns and end up a little twisted.

As most of you have read in previous posts, I make a point of noticing what men do, as opposed to what they say. I have also mentioned that one of the loving things my husband does is leave a cup waiting for me in front of the coffee pot each morning. I can simply stumble out of bed and walk over and pour my coffee on my way to the couch to curl up and begin my day. So what was I to think when not one, but two days in a row, there was no cup! I walked out both mornings and stood in front of the pot, and no matter how hard I looked, it wasn't there.

Now I realize most of you would not have given this a second thought. I didn't the first day. He is human, he might have forgotten. But when it happened a second time, I took notice. My mind started going down all our conversations and interactions in the previous days. I had thoughts like, "I wonder if he's mad at me" and "Does he not love me as much." This lack of cups had me worried! Did I ask him about it? No! I just stewed.

Then, that second evening, as we were sitting at the dinner table. My sweetheart said, "I think I have been drinking too much coffee the last couple of days." When asked why, he replied, "Well, I haven't been waiting for the coffee pot to perk in the morning, and have been making a cup of instant coffee first, then drinking coffee from the pot." I started laughing, and asked, "Is that why you haven't left a cup out for me?" He looked surprised. You see, his routine had changed and he had forgotten the cup, but didn't consider that I would notice. At that point, I let him in on how much those daily cups meant to me, and that they showed me he cared. We had a good laugh together about my personal insanity!

The next morning when I walked out and stood in front of the coffee pot, there were five cups lined up in front of the pot! He does love me a lot.

Love and Peace,

Marquita