Beach, he wrote
 
Journaling my explorations at the ocean summer 2019
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The ocean calls .........
Posted:May 18, 2019 3:42 pm
Last Updated:Jun 10, 2019 3:17 pm
2850 Views

Flyer of kites, drinker of cheap wine, poet, explorer, would be beach bum, eats desert first.
9 Comments
Lyric of the day
Posted:Jun 30, 2019 4:53 am
Last Updated:Jul 17, 2019 11:32 am
601 Views

What becomes of the brokenhearted - Jimmy Ruffin

As I walk this land with broken dreams
I have visions of many things
But happiness is just an illusion
Filled with sadness and confusion
What becomes of the broken-hearted
Who had love that's now departed?
I know I've got to find
Some kind of peace of mind
Maybe

The roots of love grow all around
But for me they come a-tumblin' down
Every day heartaches grow a little stronger
I can't stand this pain much longer
I walk in shadowsm searching for light
Cold and alone, no comfort in sight
Hoping and praying for someone to care
Always moving and goin' nowhere
What becomes of the broken-hearted
Who had love that's now departed?
I know I've got to find
Some kind of peace of mind
Help me

I'm searching, though I don't succeed
But someone look, there's a growing need
Oh, he is lost, there's no place for beginning
All that's left is an unhappy ending
Now, becomes of the broken-hearted
Who had love that's now departed?
I know I've got to find
Some kind of peace of mind

I'll be searching everywhere
Just to find someone to care
I'll be looking everyday, I know I'm gonna find a way
Nothing's gonna stop me now
I'll find a way somehow
And I'll be searching everywhere
I know I gotta find a way
I'll be looking
0 Comments
all that and he cooks too
Posted:Jun 27, 2019 4:03 am
Last Updated:Jun 27, 2019 11:41 am
661 Views

I have always been interested in cooking since I was a small , probably because my let lick the beaters when I was small. I was very envious of my sisters easy bake oven and we had a cardboard "kitchen" with cardboard food and cooking utensils where we took turns being the chef and the customer in a pretend restaurant. Between that and making leaf houses, driving our parents crazy rolling marbles down the upstairs hallway, and making leaf forts in the autumn we never figured how poor we really were, but I never tasted real butter until I got on my own.

My made sure each of us knew how to do some basic cooking, but I didn't come into my own until my late twenties when I joined the commune. The first thing they asked me when I joined was "can ou cook?". It appears none of them could and they had been surviving on burned toasted cheese sandwiches and canned tomatoes soup. When I admitted that I could I was immediately appointed cook for 22 people and ushered to the kitchen.

Kitchen was probably an overstatement. It was a spare room just off the bathroom of the rickety apartment building where everyone had set up housekeeping together. It had a barely function fridge, a plate, a cooker thing with a metal cover and a dual laundry tub that served as a sink. No one wanted to wash dishes so they just dumped them in the left hand side and ran a little water on them. When they rand of dishes they went and bought more. By the time I got there the "sink" was full and the water had a thick evil looking skum floating on the top. Rubber gloves and pinch your nose to wash those. Oh, and did I mention that the water came from a gallon tank and could barely fill the sink? It took several days to clean up the mess.

Everyone contributed bucks a week from their paychecks, and given the hope of a change in diet several there in some extra. I headed right the door and walked the half a mile to central market (now Price Chopper) and bought some stew beef, pounds of potatoes, a bag of carrots and some celery. I near broke my arm hauling it all back to the commune, and it took me all afternoon to peel and cut it all up, then several hours simmering in the cooker until dinner when everyone appeared with their planes and silverware as the smell drifted through the building. What a feast. I was a hero, or at least until someone asked what I had planned for desert!

Good times. not sure what brought that to mind this morning. Nostalgia I guess. Communes were not uncommon back then, but eventually we all paired off or got real jobs or just grew up. I still have contact with a few of those folks, but mostly they have disappeared into the backwater of memories of another time and place. I'll bet if I made the peace sign today no one would know what it even meant, and that old VW bus painted with the asides, well that would be a museum piece.
1 comment
Lyrics of the Day
Posted:Jun 26, 2019 4:57 am
Last Updated:Jun 26, 2019 2:02 pm
672 Views

Can anybody find me somebody to love? - Freddie Mercury

Ooh, each morning I get up I die a little
Can barely stand on my feet
(Take a look at yourself) Take a look in the mirror and cry (and cry)
Lord, what you're doing to me (yeah yeah)
I have spent all my years in believing you
But I just can't get no relief, Lord!
Somebody (somebody) ooh somebody (somebody)
Can anybody find me somebody to love?

I work hard (he works hard) every day of my life
I work 'til I ache in my bones
At the end (at the end of the day)
I take home my hard earned pay all on my own
I get down (down) on my knees (knees)
And I start to pray
'Til the tears run down from my eyes
Lord, somebody (somebody), ooh somebody
(Please) can anybody find me somebody to love?

Everyday (everyday) I try and I try and I try
But everybody wants to put me down
They say I'm going crazy
They say I got a lot of water in my brain
Ah, got no common sense
I got nobody left to believe in
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Oh, Lord
Ooh somebody, ooh somebody
Can anybody find me somebody to love?

(Can anybody find me someone to love)
Got no feel, I got no rhythm
I just keep losing my beat (you just keep losing and losing)
I'm OK, I'm alright (he's alright, he's alright)
I ain't gonna face no defeat (yeah yeah)
I just gotta get out of this pri cell
One day (someday) I'm gonna be free, Lord!

Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love love love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Somebody somebody somebody somebody
Somebody find me
Somebody find me somebody to love
Can anybody find me somebody to love?
(Find me somebody to love)
Ooh
(Find me somebody to love)

Find me somebody, somebody (find me somebody to love) somebody, somebody to love
Find me, find me, find me, find me, find me
Ooh, somebody to love (Find me somebody to love)
Ooh (find me somebody to love)
Find me, find me, find me somebody to love (find me somebody to love)
Anybody, anywhere, anybody find me somebody to love love love!
Somebody find me, find me love
1 comment
Sleepless in Lebanon NH
Posted:Jun 25, 2019 3:41 am
Last Updated:Jun 26, 2019 4:54 am
706 Views

Ever have one of those nights when you wake in the wee hours of the morning wide awake? Happens to me now and then. I've learned to accept it as an old guy thing. I had an uncle who was up almost every night and spent the time watching old movies on cable. Me, I usually lay there and worry about how I am going to make the car payment or thinking anxious thoughts about starving to death if I can't get enough hours at work. Sometimes I wake in a creative spot and write like crazy. This morning at three AM I was in a sexual place. God it was intense. And it came with a beautiful hardon, the likes of which I haven't see in a long time. I actually had come to the conclusion that hard of an erection was something I was not going to see again this side of the pearly gates. But there it was, and I was lost in a wash of arousal and physical pleasure. Yes, I touched it, and shivered with the pleasure of feeling it throbbing in my hand. Without hardly any encouragement I moved right to the edge of orgasm and hung there for what seemed like hours. Sometimes the urge to cum is so great you can't stop yourself, but here I was in the dark, just me and that unexpected erection. Heaven. Yes, I let my imagination run wild. I gave myself to the sensations and let them take me where they would. No agenda, no one to please but myself. Time passed but I was not aware of it. There was just wave after wave of arousal and need and pleasure. In the end it faded and I drifted back to sleep with my legs wrapped around the blanket and the lingering feelings of arousal drifting into the darkness that overtook me.
2 Comments
In the still of the night
Posted:Jun 23, 2019 8:50 am
Last Updated:Jul 17, 2019 11:32 am
707 Views

Something woke me. In the dimness of the bedroom there was a movement. It was her, her nightgown a dimness just barely lit by the light penetrating the second story window looking out over the porch. The door closed with a quiet snick and she turned towards me, her face hidden in the early morning shadows. The house was quiet and the creak of the springs as she climbed on the bed and straddled me seemed almost surreal. Before my sleep fogged brain could form a coherent word, warm lips met mine and I found myself responding in a way I had never experienced before. Her hair cascaded down over my face and I eagerly parted my lips for her urgently probing tongue. My cock, which apparently didn’t need me to be awake for this, pressed up against the sheet between us, desperately wanting the woman flesh hovered over my groin, twisting and rubbing and taking what it wanted from me. With nothing but flames of crazy desire burning in my head, I finally freed my arms from under the sheet, grabbing at the dimly sensed nightgown so I could pull it over her head and fully expose her breasts, but she grabbed my wrists and pinned me to the bed, pressing my enflamed body firmly into the mattress and trapping me under the sheet.
“I am so naughty,” she said, between kisses, drawing back with a chuckle when I thrust my tongue, the only thing I could move, upward toward her warm full lips. She kissed my nose, nibbled my earlobes, and kissed me again and again deeply and demandingly, all the time her gyrating pussy teasing my engorged rod, egging me on, daring me to cum into the rumpled folds of the sheet I suddenly realized was beginning to show signs of being wet with her juices. This was a place I had never been before. Normally, as the man, I am nominally in control of sex, know how to judge the woman’s progress in arousal, able to follow a familiar path to a desired objective I was sure of getting to. Not so here. The sudden onslaught of intense sexual pleasure short circuited my brain. I was lost in a place of heightened arousal beyond anything I had ever known in my life, swept away in the currents of her desire, flooded with feelings i had never before felt.
“Poor baby,” she said, her voice husky with arousal, “here, why don’t you suck this for awhile?”
Reaching down with one fluid motion she lifted the nightgown off and threw it over the side of the bed, the faint moonlight now falling onto the whiter shade of pale was her breasts, which I got only the barest glimpse of as she lowered the right one to my mouth, pressing the erect nipple between my lips. I must have moaned. I’m not sure. My lips seemed connected to my cock and were as hypersensitive as any woman’s clit would be the brink of orgasm. The sensation of nipple flesh sliding between them was almost more than I could bear. There was a tremor in my crotch, a shaking seemed to drive out all else in my brain. Heaven. I suckled like a little baby, taking pleasure from her body as I have never taken pleasure from a woman before.
“Yes,” she said, “adore them. They are all yours.”
Then she groaned in pleasure. A deep feral cry of need and pleasure sent shock waves through me as I lay beneath her, my hot breath seeping out around the nipple pressed firmly into my mouth, my consciousness dimming into a place where the house and the room and the bed faded away into a spinning sexual maelstrom where only our bodies and the need for some wordless resolution, if not for me, for at least her, existed. I would have done anything. Anything. To give her . On top of me I could feel her riding the wave of my passion, hips responding to every uncontrolled thrust of my arching body, her hands clenched in my hair and small mewling sounds escaping her throat.
Just when it seemed like her engorged nipple alone was about to drive me over the brink into the most dramatic orgasm of my entire life, she withdrew it, leaving me completely undone. Her warm lips kissed me again, this time gently, moving on to the chin, and the neck, then pulling the sheet down slowly as she worked her way down my belly. I laid there splayed on the bed. Completely open and spread. Surrendered to her desires. Unable to refuse her anything. Yes, I was erect. Yes, there was pre-cum. But the clamoring need to take, to fill her pussy, to ride the heights of sexuality, had been conquered. I was hers.
“Ummmmmmm,” she purred with pleasure, touching the sensitive flesh of the inner thigh, stroking the now tight balls, caressing the anal opening. I could feel my cock pulse in time with my heartbeat, small bobbing movements of the tip I could feel if not see, a little boat bobbing on the sea of desire, beyond wanting, beyond any safe place, waiting for her to do with me as she would. Every little movement as she possessed me brought waves of pleasure through my body. Every touch dragged moans from my throat seemed almost continuous, yet my penis, in all its inviting firmness, remained untouched. She leaned closer, her hair brushing against my thighs. No, not the cock. Lower. A wetness. A licking. Penetration. Oh my god. And then the touch. Just the tip. The littlest of caresses and a groan from somewhere deep inside I didn’t even know I was capable of making.
“Yes, mine,” she said, wrapping her hand around me, pulling my twitching sex towards her mouth. Wet lips surrounded me, took me in. I slid my shaking hand up onto her thigh, suddenly wanting a point of connection as impending orgasm loomed. She brought her legs together trapping my hand. I could feel her wetness and was suddenly aware of her aroma. Here the edge of the little death, faint odor was completely unbelievably erotic. I wanted her to ride me, to press her flood of sweet nectar into my face and grind her clitoris against my tongue until she came, but she just pressed her legs together tighter, making small movements against my trapped fingers, wetness finding its way from out of her clenched thighs and dripping down my arm, all the while her lips finding every hidden place in me where my sexual life was hidden.
Her hips began to move a little harder, pushing against me, forcing my fingers into her vagina, finger fucking herself with me, small moans escaping around the edge of my cock. Suddenly I was riding her orgasm, letting her take from me every scrap of my dignity, the deepest places of who I am exposed and responding fully to her. I was going to release my sperm to her, allow her to have the cum she wanted, on her terms and as her orgasm drove me into my own. Very often in sex I am totally lost in my own feelings and internal sensations of spurting cum at the last moments, but not this time. Her orgasm overtook her and I could feel it happening, feel her pussy clenching my fingers, her thighs vibrating against my tightly held hand, while somewhere close but not in the forefront my own orgasm rolled out of me like thunder, obediently filling her mouth with the rewards of her naughty desires. Yes!
0 Comments
The sex life ofolder women
Posted:Jun 21, 2019 7:37 am
Last Updated:Jun 28, 2019 4:35 pm
765 Views

The traditional wisdom that was bandied about when I was an inquisitive youngster just learning about sex was that older women had no interest in sex. The flower of pleasure, so it was said, dried up after menopause. While this may be true in some instances it appears that the majority of women remain not only sexual, but become more openly so. This was brought to my attention rather dramatically recently when I happened to be alone with a female acquaintance (there were others in an adjacent room), when she leaned over and gave me a nice warm kiss. “I hope that’s ok,” she said, rather appearing to enjoy the look of combined confusion and excitement on my face. Nothing else happened between us, but I have to say it totally made my day. It also started a thought process that is still wending its way through the back of my mind, one that is having me reevaluate my whole ideal of post marital relationships.

There is something of value in marriage. Those that stick it out and finish together are to be applauded. There are, as far as I can tell, very few of them, and even fewer if you subtract those that are still tied by a piece of paper but have no emotional or physical connection. The vast majority of us are left living at odds with the cultural fairytale of forever love. We are still sexual beings but we are left on our own as to how to work that out. It is always possible to just tuck those feelings away some place and forget about them, but in the long run experience suggests they will pop up in the most embracing and inconvenient ways. It seems far better to have a plan, to take care of them thoughtfully, to be safe, to get the most out of them, to enjoy a life the is full and satisfying, and yes, sexual.

The next step might be to take care of those needs privately and alone in the privacy of your own bedroom. Sex toys are a billion dollar industry and growing by double digits every year. Interestingly enough, Vermont and New Hampshire are the top two states in sex toy purchases per capita in the country. I’m not sure what that says, but it does make me suspect what I might find in the drawer of the night stand of any woman I meet here of MenNation.com, and even quite possibly what she might be doing as we are chatting innocently online. Women, especially older women, have options and men are not always a necessity. Realizing this, accepting it, and overcoming stereotypical sex roles in older age seems important.

If men are no longer needed for a satisfying orgasm, if the fledglings have left the nest and a supportive breadwinner is no longer an asset, what can the presence of a man bring to the table? Why hang out on MenNation.com at all? Is the physical sensation of sex with another foremost, or is there still room for some emotional connection? Is the bbc really the ultimate? What should one look for in a sexual relationship, once, twice, or ongoing? This is very interesting to speculate. Not sure I have any answers, and they are likely different for every woman anyway, but the reality of what is really happening vs the social norms we grew up accepting is intriguing. What makes sense? How can we be older, still sexual, and make things work? Thoughts?
2 Comments
The erotic pleasures of everyday conversation
Posted:Jun 12, 2019 3:23 am
Last Updated:Jul 17, 2019 11:32 am
1383 Views

It never ceases to amaze me how often I get out of the blue messages that are bluntly sexual. No warning, no buildup, no prior interaction. I have to admit that these leave me cold, wondering and uncomfortable rather than aroused. Too much too soon. Obviously these folks have never heard of subtly. You would never walk up to me on the street and expose your breasts, why do you think it is appropriate here?

True eroticicism begins long before bedroom words. It grows best in the soil of friendly conversation that is interested and connected, that inquires and learns about the potential partner, that offers some openness and peral information. This is scary in todays social media context and demonstrates a rare willingness to be vulnerable and offer trust (at an appropriate level). I am no saying you should share your bank account information or even your address with a complete stranger, but it is completely erotic to let slip things you like to do, what you had for breakfast, the annoying per who cut you off on the way to work. The little details of life can be sweet and arousing.

Here online one meets and chats in an information vacuum. Visual cues to the kind of per you are chatting with are not present, so it is considerate to offer some detail for your chat partner to build an interior image of you. It is just friendly. Jpw os to [pssob;e tp fee; sexual towards someone if there is nothing there but a gray shadow and a couple of sex words that appear to spring from no where. Sex is an interaction between two people. It is communication. Thats what makes it over the top. I need to know you before I can "know" you. Like everything else that is great it takes time.

I am no stranger to "cyber" sex. Long before there was even an internet or stream video or even digital pictures there was a chat room that one connected to via phone modem. It was clunky and often crashed. Response time between sending a message and getting a response was several minutes. It was there that I lost my chat room virginity. I and my chat room lover had many all night steamy sessions of moaning pleasure. All that was built on a gradual process of self revelation and a place of written intimacy that slowly developed between us. It was intense and every bit as rewarding for both of us as if we had been in the bedroom together.

So by all means, let's chat. I know the potential for erotic satisfaction in chatting and I am very willing to give you my complete attention, but I am not going to chat just about sex. For gods sake share a little about yourself. Get to know me a little. Let yourself respond to a developing intimacy, then lets switch gears and watch the sparks fly.
0 Comments
An Ogunquit Beach Adventure
Posted:Jun 10, 2019 3:49 am
Last Updated:Jul 17, 2019 11:32 am
1407 Views
The sand was warm, the tide was out. A little sailboat slowly drifted past out against the horizon. There was the murmur of ren playing far down the beach and the wordless g of gulls. A cool breeze was coming off of the water smelling of salt and seaweed. I was at peace. I could have laid there all day, but I knew I was burning and had to get up.

I think I like Ogunquit better than Short Sands. Parking is a bit expensive, but there is plenty of it and you don't have to continually feed a meter. The beach is broad and stretches out beyond any comfortable distance. Rest rooms and places to eat are close at hand. If you are of the mind to do so it is a short hike up the hill to the main street business area with lots of interesting shops, or there is a trolly, which I didn't ride.

Unlike the dunes at the cape the sand past the tide line at Ogunquit is well packed. It is the perfect place to walk hand in hand in intimate conversation. Perhaps on peak days it, like Hampton, is crowded, but on this lovely Sunday afternoon it was not. One could walk along the water line and easily pretend that it was just them, the sun, and the horizon stretching our into forever.

For lunch I had some seafood chowder with a view of the beach. It was, for a change, real seafood chowder with bits of clam and salmon along with the obligatory larger chunks of haddock. It had excellent flavor and plenty of seafood, but was not as thick as I would have liked, so in the great seafood chowder hunt of 2019 I give it and eight.

Afterward I hung around in the car for a bit and watched some s with a bubble machine blow streams of soap bubbles that were carried off into the wind and out over the waves. On the way home I stopped at an ice cream place that features custom flavors. I tried out I tried out Almond Joy and it was pretty good. It was a great adventure and it would have been even better to have had a companion along to share it with, but then you would have had to spend the day with me and that's more than I could expect anyone to endure.

1 comment
A whiter shade of pale
Posted:Jun 5, 2019 5:57 am
Last Updated:Jun 12, 2019 4:17 pm
1393 Views

I was chatting with someone recently who was interested in massage. The discussion we are having centered around just exactly massage was in a sexual setting. From the questions that were asked I could see that this pers perception was aligned along finding new and more pleasant ways to get off. While there is some truth to this, is really a completely different ball park, or, to borrow the words of Procol Harum, a whiter shade of pale.

The sexual caress is a surface phenomenon. It involves itself with nerve endings and sensations. It proceeds along a familiar path of increasing pleasure and visible arousal, his erection, her hard nipples and wet pussy. It is a well scripted interaction that both parties are familiar with whose sole purpose is a predictable conclusion. This is good. I love sex and I want more of it.

Massage, on the other hand, is not primarily genital. It can be intensely sexual yet it moves in other dimensions as well, comfort, healing, deep inner peace. Good massage admits the sexual pieces and erogenous zones, addressing them in the context of the entire body, which itself is an often ignored sexual organ.

We understand that the skin is a thin sheaf covering the per, but there is more to the body than that. Under the skin there lies muscle, bone, tendons, ligaments and joints. Together these these are called the Fascia, and they can be addressed just as pleasurably as the surface layer can, in fact, often more pleasurably.

You are likely aware of tension induced knots that form in certain places in your body that a trained masseuse can release. Damn that feels good. But tension is not the only thing that gets trapped in the body. Emotions can lodge there as well, blocking feeling and full sexual response. Physical manipulation of the deeper areas can release these too opening up new doors to pleasure and joy. A very common response to massage is tears, but other emotions may surface as well.

This is an uncharted sexual area for most, a step away from the comfort zone, and indeed, a prime characteristic of massage is surrender. The giver has complete control and you just have to let go, let them take you where they will rather than directing things with your own sexual energy. It is not so much a thing of dominance as it is a dance in which the giver leads, communication with the body on a more primitive wordless level, inviting it to fly and sing and experience.

Can it hurt? Yes, sometimes, but the goal is not pain, rather an arousal of the entire per that is not limited to the genitals. Will it end up in intercourse. Perhaps, but if you are focused on that you may not be completely centered in the massage space, which simply says take me, invade my boundaries, do things to me that I was not expecting, give me bliss.

All massage is sexual in nature, even massage envy where they try to cover things with sheets and maintain a "proper /giver" boundary. That is proper in a setting that seeks to release stress, but between sexual intimates those boundaries exist to be breached, gently, lovingly, with great respect, with the purpose of opening to new and deeper sexual sharing, intimate discovery and great playful pleasure.
0 Comments
Small Dick, Big Vocabulary
Posted:Jun 3, 2019 4:14 am
Last Updated:Jul 17, 2019 11:32 am
1489 Views

If you don't know what I'm talking about your sexual education is sadly lacking. Most M/F sex proceeds on a short predictable path - once we've decided to do it there is a period of foreplay, some touching, some kissing, a few obligatory licks to the lady parts to get you ready and then on to the main event, which is likely to last ten minutes tops. If your man is good he may spend a little extra time on the build up, or if he is really good, making sure you have an orgasm after his, but the main focus is on penetration and his pleasure. Once he has shot his load his ardor cools and the rest of your time together is anti-climax.

As you get older things change. Likely its not as big or hard anymore. Your attitude changes as well. Giving pleasure becomes equally important with getting it. Having (hopefully) fucked a fair number of times you begin to wonder what else there is. You suddenly realize there is more to sex than dicks. Your sexual horizons broaden and you realize that sex with a woman is a feast any you have been wolfing down the captain crunch and ignoring the filet mignon.

There is pleasure for a man that goes beyond the tip of his penis. He has tools to give pleasure that he rarely uses. His hands, his tongue, his words. All these expand the scope and pleasure of making love. When I go down on a woman now I am not just preparing for the main event, it IS the main event. There is nothing else in my world except her lips and clit. Having ed makes a man more attentive, more able to spend the time you need to reach a full and satisfying orgasm.

Good sex lives at least partly in a non-genital realm. Yeah, a great cock is nice, but what is it attached to? More than that, what does a man do with his tools that excites and drives you wild with passion? You can buy a huge and realistic looking toy for $49 online and it will feel good going in, but will it whisper sexy words in your ear? Will it pursue you and make you want it? Great sex lives in the imagination. The key to opening that door is imagination, imagination and a way with words.

A barn burning body shaking orgasm begins long before the bedroom. Yeah, you can get him going, but can he do the same for you Does he have the verbal skills to sweep you off your feet? Why do you think cyber sex became so popular for awhile? It was because it feels good to be wanted, to have someone focus on you, know you, respond to your needs in a more than physical way.

I see a lot of women posting for "well endowed". Nice to be sure, but just once I would like to see a post that asks for a man who will give attention to the details of building a sexual space, to his words, to you as a per. That is a man who will rock your world.
0 Comments
Rainy Sunday afternoon shopping trip
Posted:Jun 2, 2019 1:25 pm
Last Updated:Jul 17, 2019 11:32 am
1474 Views

Something in the laundry room does not like socks. Every time I do a load one disappears. This morning I discovered I am finally down to a pile of mis matched orphans. So its off to the plaza for some sock shopping. I slip on a pair look similar and hope no one notices the right one is two inches shorter than the left.

Not to worry, Kohls is mobbed. Everyone is stressing over how long the register lines are and paying no attention to my wardrobe gaffe. In the back of the store the mens sock department is well stocked, but unfortunately there are none of the type with extra padding in the heels I like. Sigh. Looks like my quick shopping trip is going to turn into a treasure hunt.

Wisely I decide to cut Walmart out of the running and head directly to EMS. Sure enough they have the hiking socks are perfect for me, but they are $25 a pari. Does anyone else think is a lot of money for a pair of socks? I check around and find some store brand socks on a two-for at $20. Perfect. Now I'm happy as a clam and I am ready to head home, but not before I check out all the new camping accessories.

I admit it, I am a sucker for gadgets - camping, cooking, garden, you name it and I am an easy mark. Saw lots of interesting things but fortunately was able to resist and get out of there with only two pair of socks. At least I can hold my head up high at work tomorrow knowing no one will be snickering behind my back because I am wearing mis matched socks.
0 Comments
The story o purple
Posted:Jun 2, 2019 4:48 am
Last Updated:Jul 17, 2019 11:32 am
1465 Views
Found these the other day when I was hiking. The rain drops on the petals just spoke to me. Enjoy your Sunday.
0 Comments

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