Rump Roast for Dinner

Hello everyone - another Monday has rolled around way too quickly.  I've been busy trying to promote my latest book and it's been so long I've forgotten half the things I should be doing.  On top of that, I've had a couple of eye appointments.  It seems I have a whole in my retina, which, according to them has been there a while.  Okay, I go every year so how come it hasn't been mentioned before.  Anyway, my AZ doctor, says it's probably nothing to worry about but I have to go back in a month. I hate stuff like that, how do you not think if it's nothing to worry about why do I have to go back.  

I"m trying bifocals again.  I've tried them before and couldn't get used to them.I seem to be having an easier time now.  It's much more convenient than carrying around several different pairs of glasses.

Oh, I also got stung by a bee this week.  They're always landing in the pool to get a drink and I've always swished them out with my hand.  Well, this week a bee took offense and I got his stinger right in the palm of my hand.  Boy did it hurt.  The good thing is I guess I don't have my bother's problem of being allergic.  It's better now, just itchy and from now on they can drown in the pool.  lol

Tomorrow's a big day here - election day.  I'm scared to death that the idiot will win.  If he does, I think the whole world is in jeopardy.  Think positive, Sunny Girl, think positive and the rest of you, if you live in this country, please go vote (of course, only if you're voting against him).  I'm only fooling - exercise the privilege - it was a hard fought battle ,

I"m volunteering at the polls so I should get a good feel how our usually red state is going. Blue I hope.  We'll see.

Enough, here's this week's story.

Rump Roast for Dinner?

It’s Saturday, crunch time and I’m still not ready.  Bill is going to be ballistic when he gets home if he finds out the house is still a mess and I have no idea what I’m fixing for dinner.  His parents and siblings are coming, on my invitation no less, and I’m a freakin’ mess. 

When I extended the invitation, I planned on Bill being here to help.  Unfortunately, his job required him to leave town on Tuesday, and he isn't due back until later today.  He’s asked me all week if I should cancel because he knows how I get and I told him I could handle things. Well, so far, I haven’t handled a damn thing.

‘Okay, Diane, get your shit together – one thing at a time. Focus. First things first, make a list.’

Another thirty minutes went by while I made the list.  Cleaning the house was first on the list. I hate cleaning, it’s not my thing.  The fact that the house is such a mess is really not my fault.  Bill and I agreed that as long as I worked, we could have someone come in every two weeks to clean. Shelby was supposed to be here yesterday, and she canceled.  So now it’s up to me.  I’ll start on the guest bathroom – it shouldn’t be too bad after all, no one has really used it since Shelby was here last.  Now our bathroom, that’s a totally different story, I’ll tidy that up a bit before Bill gets home.  He hates when I create what he calls my “urban sprawl” meaning I take over his vanity space. He’s threatened to sweep all my things into the trash and I suspect that one of these days it’s going to happen.

With our bathroom tidied up, I move on to our bedroom.  I change the sheets because Bill likes clean sheets, put on the bedspread that has been on the floor since he left, hung up my clothes and threw all the dirty laundry into the hamper.  I do a quick dust-up and get the vacuum.  I don’t use the vacuum so it’s a challenge and one that I didn’t conquer soon enough.  I had it on blow instead of suck and dust flew everywhere.  A few choice words flew out with the dust. Another hour wasted.

Next, I tackled the family room and the living/dining room.  Not too bad, since I’ve been by myself, I’ve holed up in the bedroom so there only minimal pick up here.  Now that I’ve conquered the vacuum, the rooms were presentable in quick order.

No sense tackling the kitchen, by the time I figure out what I’m going to cook, it will be a total disaster anyway.  I’m a good cook – but messy.   I finally come up with what I’m going to make for dinner that is simple but looks like it takes forever.  Beef Stroganoff is my decision.  I quickly write up a list of what to get from the grocery store, and I’m out the door. 

Bill calls while I’m shopping to ask if everything is on track.  Of course, I tell him.  He knows I’m lying because he can hear the stress in my voice. 

“Don’t forget  I get in at 3:00.  Do you still want to pick me up or should I take a shuttle?” he asks.

“Don’t be silly, I can’t wait to see you, and I’ll be there at 3:00,”  I tell him.

The grocery store on Saturday is like a town meeting hall.  Every family in Madison is there and each time I go down another aisle I run into someone else who wants to chat.  I hate being rude, so I exchange pleasantries and try not getting hung up in the minutiae of everyone’s life – it’s not easy.

I finally manage to get out of the grocery store, hit the liquor store for the wine and drive home. Unpacking the groceries, I realize I forgot a pretty main ingredient    I had the butcher slice a sirloin for me, but I was waylaid by Mary Beth and never did go back to pick up the meat.  Okay, I hop back in the car and head back to the grocery store. As I was making a quick dash to the meat department, I realized I hadn’t planned a dessert.  Over to the bakery department to choose something that looks as if it could be homemade.  Everything looks a little too elegant for my capabilities, so I revert to my old standby.  A carton of cool whip and a package of instant pudding mix blended together, some fresh berries and presented in a wine glass looks like you slaved all day.  Back home once again.

I look at the clock and see that it’s 1:30 – I’m in good shape, I tell myself.  I start to get out the dishes and silverware to set the table.  This I like to do.  I can fuss for hours simply getting the table setting right.  Today, I decided on dark green tablecloth and napkins along with my favorite china, Old Country Roses.  I picked up some arranged flowers at the grocers and with the candlesticks, the table looks lovely.  The silver isn’t too tarnished, just has that burnished look and there are no fingerprints or water spots on any of the glasses.

I return to the kitchen and start to play sous chef.  I’m slicing mushrooms, making the salad, cleaning the broccoli and dancing along to the tunes on the radio when I hear my phone go off.  I decide I don’t have time to chat, so I simply let it go to voicemail.  When the dinner prep is done, I begin cleaning up the mess in the kitchen.  The phone keeps ringing, and I finally decide I better check who’s calling.

I pick up the phone and see the time.  ‘Oh shit.’ I say to myself when I see the time is 3:40.  I don’t have to pick up the phone or check voicemail, I know well enough whose voice I would hear. ‘What to do, should I call back, or get in the car and blame it on traffic.  No, I’m better off facing the music.’

I click on his number, and he answered immediately.  “Don’t even bother with the excuses.  I caught a ride with Ben, his wife didn’t forget,” and he hung up. 

I’m in deep shitake and I know it.  It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t been so adamant about being there.  I have such good intentions, but you know what they say about good intentions.  The best thing I could do now was get my shower out of the way and have everything ready, so he didn’t have to do a thing.

I showered, shaved my legs, did a little landscaping, shampooed and blew dry my hair, all in record time.  By the time, Carolyn (who was perfect and never forgot anything, damn her) was pulling in the driveway, I was ready to welcome Bill home.  I went to the liquor cabinet to have his martini ready when I discovered only enough gin for one drink.  ‘Did he tell me to pick up gin, I couldn’t remember?  Surely I would have remembered or at least have it jog my memory, now.  No, I know he didn’t tell me he was out of gin.  I probably should have checked, dammit.’

I greeted him with my biggest smile and a very passionate kiss.  “Welcome Home, honey.  I missed you” I told him.

“Apparently not enough to remember to pick me up from the airport, he grumbled.

“I’m sorry, honey, I got involved and time got away from me.”

“Why didn’t you pick up your damn phone?”

“I wanted to get everything done and didn’t want to take the time.  I had no idea it was so late and might be you. “

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.  I know this tune.”

He took me by the hand, his traveling case in his other hand and led me to the bedroom. I had a feeling I knew what was going to happen but couldn’t believe he’d do it now, knowing we had company coming, and there were still a few things to do.

He dropped the suitcase but didn’t let loose of my hand.  He sat down on the bed and pulled me onto his lap.  We sat there with me cradled in his arms while he smoothed down my hair.  It was too much – I was feeling so guilty, and he was so sweet.

“Dammit, Bill, let’s just  get it over with,” I said to him.

“Get what over with”

“This, give me the lecture and if you’re going to spank me, get on with it.”

I felt his body stiffen.  “Dammit, that’s not what this is about. I was only trying to calm you down a little, but we can go there."

“I think I need it.” I couldn’t believe what I’d just said.  I was asking him to spank me, and we were expecting company within the hour.

“Are you sure? You’re all ready.”

“No, but I’m sure I need it."

Bill loved spanking me.  I was a reader of Harlequin romances and I’d always earmarked the pages where the heroine got spanked.  Early in our courtship, I had Bill read a chapter in the book I was currently reading and told him I wanted him to pretend he was Gibbon and I was Angelique. Ever since then, spanking was incorporated into our foreplay. 

It wasn’t until years later that I wanted to try spanking for a different reason.  It had been a hard sell in the beginning, but when he saw how effective it was in getting me back on track, he acquiesced. 

He moved me off his lap and told me to go remove my clothes, panties included.  He stayed put on the bed.  When I was naked below the waist, he pulled me to him and positioned me over his knee, making sure my upper body was supported.  His hand stroked my bottom as he asked me to tell him why I was getting spanked.

“Because I asked you to.”  I felt a gentle tap.

“That’s not the reason, tell me why you asked.”

“It’s been a week, Shelby didn’t come, you were gone, the house was a mess.' 

“Am I wrong, or is this more about you feeling guilty because you forgot to pick me up from the airport.”

“You’re probably right.  Whatever the reason, I know I’ll feel better afterward.”  He stroked my bottom a few more times before I felt a sharp sting right across the middle of both cheeks.

“Ouch.” I yelped.  I expected his hand, not whatever that was. 

Seconds later, another smack in the exact same place and I yelled out again.  “What the hell is that?”

“It’s your sandal that was lying here. Best to keep them where they belong. Now quit complaining and take your punishment.  After all, it’s what you asked  for and wanted, or am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not wrong, but do you have to spank so hard.”

“I want you to feel it.”  Another two smacks landed in succession in the same place.

“Trust me, I feel it.”

“Good.”  Then three quick slaps and I was rethinking my request.  He stopped and rubbed my backside for a bit.

“Okay, ready for your spanking?” he asked.

“What do you mean, am I ready.  You are already spanking me.”

“No, sweetie, that was just the warm-up.”

I cursed at him then and received two hard wallops to my thighs.  “Not nice to curse at your husband who loves you.”

“If he loves me, he’ll drop the slipper.”

I heard a thunk and the next thing I felt was his hand punishing my bottom.  Bill’s hand, when he’s in the discipline mode, is almost as bad as a paddle.  He spanks hard and fast, with no time to gather your breath before the next whack lands.  I was almost at the end of my endurance when we heard the doorbell.  I silently thanked the gods above thinking he would stop.  I was wrong, he delivered five more swats and then told me to go answer the door while he showered and changed.

I almost smacked him, but then thought better of it.  My arse was on fire, I didn't want more.  Besides I had to quickly put on my panties and jeans over a scorched bottom to go answer the door.

Of course, it was his mother, who was always early and loved to catch me unawares at anything.

“You should remember to close your bedroom windows, dear, rump roast for dinner,” she told me as I greeted her at the door.  My father-in-law smiled and patted her bottom as he guided her in the door.

And so concludes this week's tale.  See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.