You're about to be stuffed

Well, aren't we all? Thanksgiving is just about here... everyone's doing the travel plans, ordering the food. Hells bells, last Thanksgiving I gained 5-10 pounds over the winter holidays. Then here comes January, and I start working it off. Strange how the new year gives you an excuse to work your ass off. Seems we all hibernate this time of year, and emerge with the need to feel strong and feisty!

I remember last January, I started walking into town, listening to My fave podcasts, talk radio, Marc Maron, NPR, etc... 15 miles a week, minimum. Then the weather warms in March, bringing My craving for the burn of running. Started at 10 miles a week, then worked up to 15. I'm such a hard toned badass 9-10 months of the year. Then here comes winter, and feasting the harvest... there we go, cocoon and munch.

Rhythm. Can be a good thing.

I may be travelling (plans still morphing), although I'll be taking calls Thanksgiving weekend. Maybe we'll talk turkey, while I stuff unimaginable things right up your... *cough

Remind Me to tell you about the beer bottle, the condom, a bottle full of whisky, and a drunk midwestern boy with an account full of cash....

Creative Cretins

While watching Martha Stewart today (rare occurrence), she shared a little pig or two with the view. Her arms wrapped around a little pot bellied pig. Martha's resident animal expert was discussing the pros and cons (mostly cons) of keeping piglets as pets. They shared footage from a pet pig sanctuary, that cared for these abandoned, neglected porkers, when they get not so little.

Mistress had a strange fantasy in the wake.

My little minions, grazing in fields of green, naked, and serving Me. My own little piglet sanctuary, for slaves and submissive oinks. I was giggling, considering the barns I could put you up in. Every morning we'd hose you down and get you dressed, send you to work out in the field of normal folk (maybe banking, maybe law), then you'd come home every night, shed your vanilla skin, and get ready for grass stained knees.

Wonder if food tastes sweeter, mawing from a trough? Seeing my little worker pets, naked, their hard earned eats messed about their cheeks, and craving one more prod from my shepherd's hook, makes for a pleasant, surreal image.

Oh and could you do me the favor of turning down the temperature outside My Mistress hovel? Air conditioning is fabulous, but when triple digits linger, Mistress gets fussy.

Just one more reason to walk around naked all day!