Friday, October 21, 2016

One More Hour

Just one hour to go and I can lock the door! I was booked solid on full hook up sites weeks ago, but for some reason everyone wants to camp this weekend. If only I could stack them on top of each other .........

Travelers think that we should be slow as the weather cools down and will often not bother with a reservation. They wonder why all the campgrounds are full and have no sites to spare. Fortunately I have 24 sites with water and electric. No sewer, but you can use our dump station. Most people are thankful to have them. Beats the Walmart parking lot ........

It is Oktoberfest, people! Not to mention homecoming for Mizzou is nearby and creating miserable traffic for those heading east to get to me.

I have filled a dozen or so of those sites lacking sewer hook ups. Not the best sites, these were the tent camping sites when we bought the park. We converted them several years ago when the pipeline workers invaded our area and took all the full hook up sites available. I didn't want to lose my weekend business or my repeat passers-through. We would have put sewer in, but for the fact that sewer does not flow uphill. A lift station could be installed, but it is cost prohibitive. It would take many years to recoup the investment.

Enough potty talk. Or maybe not. A camper who stays here from time to time on the weekends called TODAY to make a reservation for TODAY. He is a gruff and somewhat crude man and not someone I look forward to seeing. He is easy to anger and the fact that I was booked angered him. He demanded to know WHY. He has a kid with him when he comes, maybe he is the grandson. I would be hard put to guess the child's age, but he is rude and obnoxious. He is apparently around adults a lot and tries to talk like he is an adult.

They arrived just as I had ladled myself a bowl of the beef stew I had managed to make. It was close to 7:00 and I had not eaten all day, except for some apple slices. The man announces himself and the kid says they will take a full hook up. I tell them I have no full hook ups. The man starts yelling at me and telling me I told him I did on the phone. I assure him that I told him no such thing. I told him the only sites left were without sewer.

I assign him a site and he leaves, map in hand. Grumbling all the way, saying he stays here all the time (maybe 4 times a season). He returns shortly to tell me he can't find the site. I had a remark about his ability to find things on the tip of my tongue, but swallowed it. I provide him with an escort ... HeWho drives. No sooner did HeWho drives returns to finish his cooling bowl of stew than the phone rings. He just doesn't like the site and can he have the one next to it. I say "sure" in hopes that this will appease him.

My stew bowl is empty and I have made the most incredible apple pie in the history of apple pies. I am eating this when he calls and this could be why I failed to realize that he was going over the line into 30 amp territory and he has a 50 amp camper. But, this pie has my taste buds singing and I am in heaven. This pie that I literally threw together with wild abandon in between customers and phone calls is so good I want to eat the entire pie. I measured nothing and would be hard put to recreate this pie and I am trying to remember what I did.

He calls again to tell me that the "electric box" is 55 amp ...... there is no 55 amp out there, I am quite certain it is a 30 amp .... 55 is the site number. I am done. I sent HeWho is in charge of all things electrical to handle the situation. I now have 11 minutes until I bang the door shut and lock it. The moral to the story is to park where I put you and all will be well. And the phone rings again .....

Tomorrow will be here before you know it and I will be problem solving yet again. I had a group of three show up and they had only reserved 2 sites. I have a camper coming tomorrow with no site, since I used his. I will solve this one tomorrow!

Sunday, September 23, 2012

To Pee or Not To Pee

I have been getting feedback from this blog. Only two followers and I get feedback .......

My daughter found this blog, this blog where I do not censor and edit my thoughts about aging or sex. She thinks I should never post here again and is sorry she found it. I suppose I can see her point. Nobody wants to picture their parents having sex. It is just something you know happens, but you don't want to think about it. Hmmmm, I feel much the same way about my children having sex. They are grown with families, but their dad still thinks of his daughters as virgins. I suffer no illusions of such, but don't really want details. Maybe she should just not read this, my delicate little flower of a daughter.

Others have said I should post more often and here I am. Today an incident occurred that made me realize I am not going to like some of the other aspects of growing old. As it stands now, my libido is struggling to survive and I can no longer eat the things I want without suffering severe repercussions.

I have been stacking firewood and restoring order to our wood pile. I am my father's daughter and I like things in nice neat stacks and zoned. I have separated the wood into categories. There is the petrified wood that will catch fire if you just create friction and burns in seconds, then there is the seasoned wood that will maintain the fire, and last but not least, the wood too green to burn unless you use an accelerant.

My husband likes the latter for some unknown reason. He will struggle with that one log that will not catch fire. He uses a propane torch in the wood stove in the house. I just gather some twigs and such and get a nice little blaze going and add some seasoned wood. Works like a charm. Well, unless he splits the wood and stacks all the new wood atop the good wood and the snow has covered the pile, then frozen over and you need a pick ax to get to the good stuff, thus creating the unruly pile. This year we are doing it my way (the right way).

I spent my morning stacking wood into piles. Some need to be sawed to a smaller size and some just need to be split. I have been working at this project all week and every muscle in my body hurts. The pads of my fingers hurt, my toes hurt.
Since we are taking a little break today to go out with some friends, I came in to get ready. I had found a patch of poison oak and poured the remainder of some highly concentrated stuff that has to be purchased at a farm supply store and is no longer legal to use. So they say. I felt a drop splash on my foot and came in to wash it.

I had a shower last night and wasn't dirty or sweaty, so I just stood in the tub ....... fully clothed in a t-shirt and capri's and set about washing my feet. I suddenly had the urge to pee. I did not make it. Two steps, that's all it was and I could not get my pants down fast enough.

Now that I have showered and changed into clothes I had not planned to wear, I am thinking about the frequency of this happening lately and am considering adult diapers ........ No, I am not! Although, it would simplify my life and I wouldn't hurt myself trying to get to the bathroom.

What does one wear over these diapers? Double knit pants with elastic waist?? So stylish. I am not ready for this. I will train my bladder to cooperate. It will be like Olympic geriatric training. This sucks!

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Fatigue and Opinions

When we were young and our hormones were out of balance in the opposite direction, being tired mattered very little. We still managed to express our lust for one another no matter the circumstance.

Now that we are older and the hormone imbalance seems to be at the other end of the scale, the desire may still be there, but ......... the flesh is weak without proper sleep. I suppose that this must be nature's way of keeping us alive. I wonder just how many have died due to that little blue pill pushing them to complete what the heart was too weak for?

I have always been told, "it's the thought that counts" when receiving a gift. That applies to sex in the sixties, too. Just my opinion.

I shared a political opinion earlier this week and an apology was demanded from the one I shared it with. Apology? For my opinion? I don't think so. This person demanding my apology feels very free to express his political beliefs to anyone who will listen (and some who just pretend to listen). My comment was in response to some bumper stickers he would be proud to display as a Republican. I found some of them to be racist and I said so. I expressed my opinion about the short-comings of his candidate and he wanted to know if I was "on something".

I am not a Stepford wife who would blindly follow her husband's choice in voting. I express myself well, I have a good command of the language, and I can even enunciate my words. This all happened in e-mail form. I did get the last word in. I might lose a customer. Am I upset about this?

I must be to some degree or I wouldn't be thinking and writing about it. My husband thinks I should have kept my mouth shut (or my fingers still) in the first place, and then when the apology was demanded, I should have apologized. Really, the man would seem to not know the woman he married. I would apologize if I had initiated the sharing of opinions, but I didn't. The world would be a dull place if every one thought the same thing ..........

Sunday, November 6, 2011


I think I was complaining about skin tags when last I wrote. That was the night of insomniac musings about my sex life (or lack there of). The skin tags are benign, but annoying depending on location. The bigger ones seem to develop in areas with lots of traffic. Like the bra zone and inner thighs. This allows the little buggars to become red and angry and be painful. The ones I hate the most are the ones that get caught under the under wire of my bra. Never fails to annoy in public. I feel the need to point out here that there is just one letter's difference in public and pubic. Why, I wonder; since pubic should not be public.

Speaking of public ...... my husband thinks these writings are too racy to be public. It is almost like the man does not even know me. I talk like this all the time, but put it down on paper (or cyberspace) and he gets all prudish. I am not sharing any intimate details, despite the blog title. I was sleep deprived when I chose it.

But, the skin tags ..... In case you are fortunate enough to be unfamiliar with these; they are unsightly little flaps of skin that hang from various places on your body. I have a friend who will actually shave hers off with a very sharp razor. I have been unable to bring myself to do this, having had a traumatic leg shaving event in my youth. I have found that tying a length of dental floss around the base of the tag itself will cut off blood supply and it will eventually fall off. It will fall off quicker if you put wart remover on it. If the skin tag is in your armpit area, good luck trying to tie anything around it yourself. You will, at that point have to ignore your vanity and ask your husband to assist you. Mine will tie things, but will not cut or shave them for me. Wuss.

Sometimes, if you are really lucky, the tag will fall off ....... no, really, that is wrong......... you will accidentally rip it off when removing your under garments. It may smart a little, but the relief that it is gone will overcome this.

But, when I started writing this today, I was annoyed with the hair on my head. I have always been prone to oily, fine, limp hair. The one thing I was looking forward to when my hair started to gray was that my scalp would start to dry out. But, no, my hair still has to be washed on a daily basis to have any body whatsoever. Did the texture change? No, still fine and limp. Is this fair? No, the one side effect of aging that I wanted to happen .......... didn't!

I suppose that this blog is more about aging than sex. At sixty, though, it is all a whole lot of talk, anyway.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

Skin Tags

As I approach the age of sixty, it occurs to me that I miss some things. Some things I am happy to have behind me. I am happy to have gone through menopause. I am happy to be free of the intense responsibility of child rearing. I am happy to choose whether or not to decorate for the holidays. I am happy to have the choice to sit here in front of my computer and write at midnight.

What do I miss? I miss hot steamy sex. It may sound like a wonderful idea to have sex with my husband. I like the prelude to the act. The suggestion and the flirting and the kissing and the hugging. Foreplay, if you will. But I suppose I miss the raging hormones that drive you insane with the absolute need for satisfaction.

Do not misunderstand, I would never want to be a teen again. But a good dose of teen hormones every now and again would be quite refreshing. I don't know if my joints could do justice to some of the positions I tried out in my younger years ......... You see the ads for erectile dysfunction, but I have never seen a set of tubs on the shore of a lake. Are they suggesting that the couple copulate in one of the tubs. With or without water?

Either scenario has problems. Without the water to displace the weight on that hard porcelain surface, somebody will sustain injuries. Really. I am not as small or flexible as I used to be. All that thrashing about could result in a broken hip. While water would add cushion and buoyancy, there would be a whole new set of problems to overcome. You would need a lubricant that was not water soluble, for sure.

What happened to my skin? Age spots and wrinkles seem to have taken over. My leg skin looks like crepe paper and suddenly I have pubic hair behind my knees. Must be where all my pubic hair in the pubic region has disappeared to. Moles and bumpy little skin tags plague my torso and  neck.