Monday is Story Day

Good Day All - As usual it's been busy around here.  Yesterday, was our Annual Thank You Luncheon for our volunteers in our little community.  It was fun and because I'm a volunteer for other things, I didn't have to do much of the work, just reap the benefits.

We had a slight cold spell here, two days only but it got pretty cold at night so we brought in some of our more less tolerant plants and thank goodness we did.  On another note, though our daffodils are blooming - I love seeing them.  I hope the iris I planted the year before last bloom this year - last year they didn't.  Does anyone have any gardening tips on these beautiful delicate flowers?  I could use the help.

I love that the days are getting a little longer, well the daylight hours. You know what I mean. Have you noticed?  

Here's the continuation of the story of the last few weeks. Recap here. Wasn't sure how far I wanted to take it, so I backed off a little.  I think it may be done, what do you think?

I looked around the room and felt totally out of place.  There were little groups of people gathered around the room and I tried to decide which group looked the most welcoming.  Since the only people we knew were the host and hostess and they were missing, I found a group that had mostly women, figuring they would be the most open.  It wasn’t until I got closer that I realized they were all smokers.  I really did hate the smell of smoke but a whiff told me it wasn’t just tobacco smoke I was smelling.  As I got closer, I realized they were all passing around the cigarette which, obviously wasn’t a cigarette at all.  I believe the term back then was ‘doobie’. When I was in college and where we lived in Washington,  alcohol was the drug of choice, not marijuana.  I didn’t want to seem like a prude so I joined the group anyway and was immediately handed the ‘joint.’   Unsure of what to do, I was urged to just take it and inhale.  I did and have never been a smoker thought I was going to die.  I began coughing up a storm.  Laughter ensued among the group as I choked on that damn smoke.  One of the women offered me some liquid and I took a large gulp until I realized it was not water that was being offered but her drink – it must have been pure vodka – and I swore I thought I might explode.  I wasn’t sure which was worse, the coughing fits from the joint or the large swig of vodka.  I’m quite sure my face was red and not only from embarrassment.  It was then that Rod appeared and put his arm around my shoulder.

“What’s wrong, honey?  Are you alright?”  All I could do was shake my head.   He excused us from the group and took me outside for a breath of air.

“Honey, I think this is a far different group of people than we are used to.  Maybe we should just excuse ourselves and go on home.”  I nodded in agreement and we went back inside to say our goodbyes.

The next morning, neither Rod nor I spoke about the previous evening.  I think we were both in a state of disbelief.  It was such a different world. Obviously, the world had changed since we lived here.  I wondered if everyone lived this way now or did we just happen upon a neighborhood of like-minded people and if so, I wasn’t sure I wanted to get too comfortable. After all, we had not only our daughter to consider but also Rod’s position of responsibility and my possible return to teaching.

Later that same day, the hostess of the previous evening showed up on my doorstep.  Unsure of what to say or do, I held open the door and offered her a cup of coffee.  When we sat down, she started to explain the previous evening. 

“I’m sorry about last night.  I get so wound up when I’m having a party that I got a little tipsy beforehand to settle me down.  My husband has a different way of settling me down and when we came back to the party I noticed you and Rod were no longer around.  Was everything okay?’

I’m quite sure she was aware of my discomfort as I squirmed around in the chair and hemmed and hawed before answering.

“Oh, I can see you’re a little upset.  Don’t be.  I realize not everyone is comfortable with some of the things that went on.  I usually spend a little more time with guests and try to let them know what they can expect.  Not everyone indulges in the same way and I apologize for your discomfort.  I can assure you not all parties are the same.”

“Some of the things were definitely a surprise. We have a daughter and I don’t want her to think that her parents are complicit in anything illegal and dope is definitely illegal.”

“It’s not hard drugs, only marijuana.  It’s readily available and here in California, there is not much worry about law enforcement bothering anyone for use.”

“Still, I don’t mean to be stuffy or unfriendly, but I would appreciate it if you not include us in future parties where we might encounter this sort of thing.  We have too much at stake with my husband’s job and me trying to get hired by the school board.”

“I understand.  My husband was not pleased with me when he found out you had left.  He asked if I had warned you in advance and when I told him no, I was in trouble.  He told me this morning to come here and apologize and that he will deal with me when he gets home.  My husband may be progressive in some ways but in others, he’s a throwback.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m embarrassed to share this, but you might as well know, it’s common knowledge around here.  My husband still believes in being the head of household and takes me to task when I overstep the boundaries he has set.”

“Oh, I think I know what you’re saying without actually saying it.”

“You do.”

“Yes, I do.  My husband is old-fashioned that way too.”

“Really,”  Right then I knew we had formed a lasting bond.  Shortly thereafter, Lindsay came home from school and Rhonda left.

I couldn’t wait to tell Rod about the conversation.  Later that evening, when Lindsey was in bed, I told him about my visit with Rhonda.  After I finished telling the story, Rod invited me to join him in our sound-proofed bedroom.  There I was lectured about the evils of going along with the crowd and how I was never to accept another party invitation without knowing, in advance, what will be happening at that party.  Just to make sure I understood what he was saying, he removed his belt and welted my bare bottom into further understanding.

I wondered if Rhonda was getting the same lecture and if she'd be available for a sit down the next day?

See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.

Monday's Tale

Sorry this is late posting.  I had this niggly feeling last night to make sure it was going to come up, but did I listen.  Of course not..  Instead of scheduled it was still listed as draft so ...  


Well, another week went by and I didn't get back here after Monday's story.  I'm so glad you still keep coming back. The weather this past week has been frightful in some places, how about where you are? I'm just grateful to live where the climes don't change all that much, except when it's 110 outside, but at least I don't have to shovel that.  

This past week I went to see The Post - the movie with Tom Hanks and Meryl Streep.  It was fantastic.  So much of it I remembered from having lived through those times but it's still so pertinent to what's going on with 45 and his 'fake' news.  If you have a chance, don't miss it.

For this week, I've decided to continue last week's story. From the looks of it, I will be continuing it again as soon as I know where it's going.  lol.  Hope you enjoy and I'm open to any ideas.

Those Were The Days (Part one here)

When Lindsey was six years old, I convinced Rod I should go back to work.  With Lindsey in school all day I was at my wit’s end.  He was not too keen on the idea, but I kept after him until he finally gave in.  I think his hand got tired – my butt had hardened over the years.  Luckily, I was able to find a position in the same district in which Lindsey went to school making our schedules mesh.  Our life was great.  Rod loved his job, Lindsey liked school and I was happy to be back teaching. 

As Lindsey grew we had solved our dilemma of where I would get my butt spanked.  For the first few years, a closed bedroom door did the trick.  However, an inquisitive and wily little girl found out how to unlock the door and after a couple of close calls, Rod built a playhouse in the backyard for Lindsey.  He equipped it so as to accommodate grown-ups when the need arose. Little did Lindsey know the secret of her playhouse until one night after she was in bed, Rod led me to the playhouse for a spanking he felt I deserved.  I was less than quiet about the whole thing, both before and during when suddenly the door flew open and there stood two policemen with guns drawn telling us not to move.  Apparently, our neighbor had heard the commotion and reported the disturbance.  There I was, bare-assed over my husband’s knee.  I could hear the one policemen snicker.  Rod quickly helped me up and pulled up my jeans as we stood there in the beam of the flashlights.

“Are you okay, Ma’am?”

“Yes,” I stuttered.

“Do you want to make a complaint?”

“No.” 

It wasn’t bad enough that the policemen were there, but my neighbor too came over to check.  Not just one neighbor, but neighbors from across the street.  It was embarrassing especially when they asked the police if everything was okay and they replied that it would be better if they asked Rod and I.  Naturally, they asked Rod.  After stuttering and stopping, he said something about sexual play-acting. 

The neighbor who called in the complaint apologized. “It didn’t sound like play-acting to me, it sounded real.”

Now I knew that he had heard the whole damn thing.  How was I ever going to be able to show my face?  I was so angry with Rod, I stomped my way into the house and locked the door, leaving him to spend the night in the garage.  Once I calmed down, I came downstairs, surprised to see Rod sleeping on the couch.  I’d forgotten about the spare key in the garage. I covered him with the throw and started back upstairs.

“I’m not sleeping,” I heard him say.

“Obviously, neither am I.  I’m sorry for locking you out.”

“It didn’t work,” and he chuckled.

“I noticed.  I’m just so embarrassed.”

“Honey, believe me, no one is going to bring it up.  Forget about it.”

“I’ll tell you one thing, we are never using that playhouse again.  We’ll have to find another place.”

“How about California?”

“What did you just say?"

“I said California.”

“Isn’t that a little far to go for a spanking?” It was my turn to chuckle.

“Not if we’re living there.”

“As Ricky says, ‘you have some ‘splaining to do.’

“The promotion I just received is back to SoCal, you interested in going with me.”

I jumped over the ottoman to get to him.  “You're kidding, right.  Of course, I’m going with you. When do we leave?”’

“The job starts in two weeks.  Will you be ready?”

I was quiet as I processed this information.  His new job started in two weeks - should Lindsey and I follow right away or finish out the semester in Washington.  As much as I hated the idea of separation, I knew it would be best. 

“Honey, as much as I’d love to say yes, I think it best if you go and we follow after the end of this first semester.  After all, we don’t even have a place to live and I remember how busy you were when we came here, I hardly saw you for the first couple of weeks..”

“You’re right, but I wanted you to be part of the decision.  I remember the last time.”

I laughed.  Yeah, I remember it too and rubbed my bottom.   It didn’t even tingle anymore which surprised me.    I joined him on the couch and when things got a little too heated, we moved to the bedroom.  Suddenly, my embarrassment at being found out was not important.  Once I found out we were moving to California, I was too busy to contemplate what the neighbors might or might not say.  

The one thing about Rod’s job, his company took care of a lot of the relocation issues.  Rod was ensconced in one of those Spring Hill Marriott Suites and I’d stay with him on my house hunting trips down to California. A major criterion for me was a large soundproof area.  It was fun explaining that to a realtor –  slide little smiles followed my explanation. Finally, I was able to find a house in Manhattan Beach - an old California style ranch with lots of charm. The master suite was at one end while the other bedrooms occupied the opposite end.  Not only that but the former owner worked nights so he had our end of the home soundproofed so his sleeping wouldn’t create problems for the rest of the family.  How considerate of him and such a blessing for us.  Haha   We tested it out the first night we spent in the house, Lindsey never heard a thing.

By the end of May, we were settled, Rod loved his job and Lindsey was happy in her new school and environment.  I applied to be a substitute teacher at the local school district and had been accepted for the new school year.

In June, we were invited to a neighborhood party.  We were excited to meet new people and looked forward to increasing our social circle.  The party was at a house on the next block and as we approached the house we could hear the frivolity.  We were told a pool and a hot tub was available if we wanted to indulge and obviously, there were people already using the pool.  The host met us at the door and immediately handed us a drink and began introducing us the others.  Most of the couples were about our age and seemed willing to accept us into their group.  Conversations were a little racier than in Washington, but after all, this was California and life was different here.  It wasn’t until I glanced out at the pool to see a woman, completely naked, step out of the pool.  A completely naked man was right on her heels.

I was stunned.  I hoped someone would hand them a towel or something.   No one else seemed to notice.    I was looking for Rod when I noticed the host slap the hostess on the behind, not once but three times, and propel her out of the room.  She giggled the whole time.  What had we gotten ourselves into?

See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.

Those Were the Days

At last, here's a new story.  It was painful to write - painful in the sense that it was like pulling teeth.  I don't know how I'm ever going to get out another book if my writing muse doesn't soon return. I think life is just a little too busy right now, but everything in its own time.

Hope everyone is settling into this new year.  They come entirely too fast to suit me anymore.  The older I get the faster they go.  I guess that's life and I'm not complaining.  I have a good life with good health, a great husband that loves me despite my added gray hair, wrinkles and pounds and friends that stand by me, no matter what.  Isn't that so friends?  What more could a girl want?  Okay, add in winning the lotto and living by the beach and I'd have everything - lalalalala.

The year was 1954 and I was a young girl of twenty-two;  recently graduated from the local teacher’s college and ready to take on the world. I applied for any teaching jobs anywhere that was far from home and in places that had a population larger than 35,000 people.  At the time, that seemed a huge number of people to me coming from Appleton, population 10,000 during the summer season.

When I received an offer from the local high school and turned it down, my parents were aghast.  I had no desire to be the local schoolmarm, I had much bigger plans for myself, California was always a dream of mine.  Warm weather, beaches, palm trees, movie studios what was not to like.  So I decided to spend my graduation money on a trip to California.  A girl traveling alone at the time was radical and looked at suspicious but I was not to be deterred.  I boarded a train to Los Angeles and was on my way.

I was not alone, after the war, women had increasingly joined the white collar workforce and when traveling needed a safe, comfortable place to stay. The YWCA was that place. The local coffee shop was a great place to meet and exchange information with other women.  I learned several school districts in Orange County were looking for teachers.  The area was growing by leaps and bounds due to families settling there after the war and the new amusement park that was being built by Walt Disney.  After a couple of calls, I had two interviews lined up and three weeks later was offered a teaching position.

California then wasn’t the California of latter years  - apartments were very affordable and I was able to find a converted garage apartment, two blocks from the beach, that fit very well into my measly budget.  School was only a couple of blocks away so I didn’t have to get a car right away.  It was utopia.

Jobs in the booming aircraft industry were plentiful and many men who had been stationed at the local bases during the war came back to live in this golden state. There was no shortage of available young men.  Rodney Allen Morgan was one of them.  He came from a farm family in the midwest and had been stationed at the Army base in Santa Ana during the war.  After discharge and a short visit back to his hometown, he migrated back to California.  He snagged a job at McDonnell Douglas, was going to school nights on the GI Bill and playing guitar in a band on weekends for some extra money.

One Friday night after the start of the school year, a group of us younger teachers got together and ventured up to Redondo Beach for a night of clubbing. Back in those days, we all had morals clauses in our employment contracts and it was best not to play to close to home.  Not that we planned on doing anything wrong but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Anyway, that’s the night I met Rod.  His band was playing at the club and during one of the breaks two of the members came over to our table and introduced themselves.  They stayed and visited with us for the rest of their break. At the end of the next set, the men visited at another table.  I didn’t think anything more about it but during their last set, a bar server delivered a note to me.  Surprised,  I opened it and found a note from Rod, giving me his full name and a number where he could be reached.   I looked up and saw him staring at me.  I folded the note and put it in my pocket.  Shortly thereafter we left and he watched us as we walked out the door.  I had no intention of using that phone number, back in those days, girls just didn’t call guys.

A couple of weeks later I had a surprise.  I came out of school and there waiting beside a blue convertible was Rod.  He called out to me.  Shocked to see him I walked over and he promptly took me in his arms and gave me one of those kisses you see in movies.  When I recovered, I slapped his face and heard clapping in the background.  Apparently, everyone had seen the interchange and were either applauding my behavior or his.  He spoke first as I gathered my wits.

“Hello gorgeous.  You didn’t use the number."

“I’m not in the habit of calling men.  How did you find me?”

“Do you know how many schools there are in this district?  I’ve been visiting each one and today I finally succeeded in tracking you down.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the girl I’m going to marry.”

Once again I was speechless.  There was still a crowd milling around us – obviously waiting for something else to happen.  He suggested I get in the car and go somewhere we could talk.

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s broad daylight; we could go down to the beach and take a walk along the ocean.  Would that be okay?”

I didn’t see the harm in that so I got into the car and heard the crowd applauding again.   Rod smiled at the crowd and took a short little bow before getting into the driver’s side. 

I think that’s when I first fell in love with Rod.  That one little gesture.

He was not extraordinarily handsome  - tall, with chestnut brown hair that seems to defy a comb, piercing blue eyes that actually twinkled, a nose that had been broken at one time, and a smile that lit up his face.  But that wasn’t what attracted me – it was something in the way he walked, talked and viewed life. I knew he was a keeper.  I knew he was right; I was the girl he was going to marry.

It wasn’t as fairy tale as that though.  There were several bumps along the way.  Despite all his charm, he could be as stubborn as a mule.  There were many clashes regarding how I did things and how he thought things should be done.  The biggest issue was that he wanted to get married immediately and wanted me to quit my job.  There was no way that was going to happen.  I tried reasoning with him that I should continue to work at least until he was finished with school.  He balked at that so I wouldn’t agree to marry him until he was finished with school. I received my first spanking from him over that very argument.  Spanking in those days wasn’t the taboo it came to be later on.  Most men spanked, at least most men where he and I came from.   How we managed to stay together those two years was nothing short of a miracle and pure love.  It was hard – we didn’t see each other much.  He continued to play gigs with the band and between his schedule and mine and the thirty-five miles between us, there wasn’t a lot of time to spend together. 

The day after he got his degree we went down to the courthouse and got married. I had saved most of my salary over the past two years and had a nice little nest egg.  That, combined with the wedding money from our parents, gave us not only the down payment but the wherewithal to purchase furniture and a car for me.  The ‘bump’ over the car was a doozy and I almost called off the wedding.  I planned on keeping my job – there was no reason not to until I became pregnant.  Rod didn’t see it that way and we fought and fought until one day, he put down his foot and threatened me with a spanking every day until I came to my senses.    Three days later, instead of a hand spanking over his knee, he used his clothes brush.  That was the day I told him in a not very nice way to forget it – I wasn’t going to marry him and he could keep the damn house and find someone else to marry.

His laughter at my tirade was what brought me back to my senses.  We compromised, I got to keep my job for another year but would quit even if I wasn’t pregnant by the end of the next school year.  Sounded fair to me.

As it turned out, I needn’t have worried,  I would have had to quit anyway because Rod received a job offer in another state.  We were moving to Washington – I can’t say I was the happiest girl on the planet when he told me.  I was happy for him, it was what he had been working toward but I felt I should have, at least, had a say.  But, he accepted without my input. Eventually, I always came to his way of thinking.  Most times, he convinced me while I was over his knee as he pounded acquiescence into my bottom 

.

Now it’s 1961.  Our daughter Lindsay was born in June and I’m a stay at home mom.  I’m coping along with a little help from Rod’s large hands.  He’s added a couple of weapons to his arsenal over the years that he takes out on occasion but for the most part, I’m spanked, bare bottom, over his knee.  I wonder how this is going to work out once Lindsay gets older.  Like everything else, I guess we’ll find our way and I wouldn't change a thing.

See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.