Sunday, November 23, 2014

Taste And See

Oh, taste and see that the LORD is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him! 
Psalm 34:8

This is a beautiful verse because of its simplicity and all the meaning this verse brings to my mind. If you look up the definition of taste in on-line dictionaries, beyond the obvious meaning, you'll find definitions such as, “a sample of experience” (e.g. the first taste of success) or “perceive, discern, or experience . . .” These definitions should get your attention as we look at this verse because this is what I think we should understand when we read this. Several commentaries suggest this verse, when it was written, meant something very deep and meaningful. In simpler terms, to taste and see that God is good is to relish and delight in God’s goodness manifested in and by God’s gifts, and in the contemplation of God’s infinite perfections and boundless love, and to be persuaded and convinced of God’s goodness as to be encouraged in the worst of times.

Taste and see how God is good.

We all have these days when nothing seems to go right.  We get one set of bad news and then another and before you know it you are completely demoralized and you think how can things get worse.  On some of those days, you realize just how much worse things can get. On those days we always wish things had gone better. On days like that we just have to persevere and continue on, but we just cannot allow ourselves to worry to the point of not being able to persevere. It is what it is. We have to take time to spend with God to remind us to taste and see how good God is. Everything will be okay because God has a path for us.  He is watching out for us and is guiding us. Life gets messy. Perfect or not isn’t the issue. Allowing ourself to feel God’s presence is the issue. Taste and see how God is good. Then, we can be blessed. We can feel God’s grace. That is something for which I am very grateful and I hope you are too.

Saturday, November 22, 2014

Moment of Zen: Coca-Cola

"I'd like to buy this guy a Coke, 
And keep him company"

I have to admit there are times on a hot day when there is nothing better than a cold Coca-Cola.  Yes, I prefer Coke to any other soft drink.  As a rule, I may drink one Coke a week, but when I need one,miss the only thing that satisfies, and if the guy in the picture ever wanted to share a Coke, I'd be more than willing.

Friday, November 21, 2014

Coming Monday

I had a particular post in mind for either Wednesday or Thursday and then I thought I'd post it today, but I haven't really had the time to get it written not have I felt like it.  I am feeling better though; my shoulder still hurts some but not nearly as bad.  Plus, last night I couldn't miss watching "How to Get Away with Murder." However, I will tell you that the three men above play a major part in the post.

Thursday, November 20, 2014

Sorry Guys

Yesterday seemed to be the day from hell.  First, my shoulder was still in a lot of pain when I woke up and I had the worst time trying to get dressed. Next, my phone died, and I mean completely died, and I had to go get another one, which took forever.  When I finally got home, and my shoulder and neck pain seemed to not be able to get worse, I had to take out the garbage because of course it's garbage night.  I was then finally able to take some medicine to help with the pain and go to bed.  Therefore, I was not able to write the post I'd planned to write.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Ugh! The Pain! The Pain!

I woke up yesterday morning with my shoulder and neck very sore like I'd slept on it wrong or something.  Usually, it gets better as the day goes on, and it seemed to do just that until last night.  About 7:30 last night, the pain got exceedingly worse.  I took some Aleve, then a muscle relaxer, and neither helped.  I ended up going to bed early with a heating pad.  I hope it will be better today and a good night's sleep will help it.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014


by William Cullen Bryant

Yet one smile more, departing, distant sun! 
One mellow smile through the soft vapory air, 
Ere, o'er the frozen earth, the loud winds run, 
Or snows are sifted o'er the meadows bare. 
One smile on the brown hills and naked trees, 
And the dark rocks whose summer wreaths are cast, 
And the blue gentian flower, that, in the breeze, 
Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last. 
Yet a few sunny days, in which the bee 
Shall murmur by the hedge that skirts the way, 
The cricket chirp upon the russet lea, 
And man delight to linger in thy ray. 
Yet one rich smile, and we will try to bear 
The piercing winter frost, and winds, and darkened air. 

About William Cullen Bryant
William Cullen Bryant's poetry is affiliated with the Romantics, often reflecting an obsession with nature and a thoughtful desire for silence and solitude. Bryant was born on November 3, 1794. An American nature poet and journalist, Bryant wrote poems, essays, and articles that championed the rights of workers and immigrants. In 1829, Bryant became editor in chief of the New York Evening Post, a position he held until his death in 1878. His influence helped establish important New York civic institutions such as Central Park and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. In 1884, New York City's Reservoir Square, at the intersection of 42nd Street and Sixth Avenue, was renamed Bryant Park in his honor.   

Monday, November 17, 2014

Why I Love Men

I love men. It’s a simple thought, really. And as an average looking, thirty something year old teacher with a few extra pounds, a little less hair, and more and more gray hair all the time who is well equipped with a sweet disposition and a fabulous brain, I can somehow manage to keep certain relationships with men intact.

I think about the men I’ve slept with, the men I want to sleep with, and those I simply admire and adore in a platonic context.  So many of those men have a certain effect on me.  When I see them, hear them, smell them, or just get a text from them, my heart can skip a beat and a smile comes across my face.  It's a weakness that I have for men who are nice to me.

I love the easy going conversation I can have with them.  Often it doesn't matter what the subject is, but that the conversation flows from one topic to the next, until you have no idea how you got on the subject you're on an hour or so later.  Those conversations can be so amazing and create an energy within me that's overwhelming but calming at the same time.

I love women as well, but not in a hetero-male perspective. I admire their soft curves, physique, and snarky comebacks. I understand the poems written about them and the paintings that burst with gratitude for their existence.  Women are necessary, obviously we wouldn't be here without them, and while they might cause me to smile, they never cause my heart to skip a beat.  Women also can't hold you and comfort you and make you feel safe the same way a man can.

But I love men. I love their arms, their eyes, and their jawlines.  I love the hardness of a man (yes, that kind of hardness too), but mostly the hardness of their bodies.  The strength that it conveys. 

I love when you get that unexpected glimpse of skin as they raise their hands, bend over, or simply when they move a certain way. I love the way a pair of Wrangler jeans hugs a man's behind perfectly, or they way he looks when he walks in a pair of boots.  I love how a nice pair of slacks perfectly hangs over his butt or gently caresses the bulge up front.

I love their calloused hands, broad shoulders, and how innocent and vulnerable they look while they’re sprawled against the sheets.  I love to hear them breath as they sleep and the warmth of their body next to mine.  I love the feel of their skin when it's soft and relaxed which is a perfect contrast to their rough hands.

I love their scruff and how they feel against my neck. Sharp needles that soften; rough textures my skin eventually loosens up to.  I love they way his lips feel against mine, the velvety texture of his tongue, the kisses and sucking on my body.  I love the roughness of a man when he is so turned on he can't keep his hands off of me, and I love the tenderness when we simply lay in each other's arms.

I love seeing them cum. Explicit, but it’s true. Heavy breathing, chest rising, and their shaking thighs. Bright eyes and a wet kiss; it’s like watching a beautiful death, la petite mort as the French say.  It's a beautiful moment, that's made even better if you get to have his hot spent load spray across your body.  I love how just before he has an orgasm his manhood engorges and expands, begins to spasm, and his balls are drawn up.  It's a moment of magic that I think only another man can fully appreciate.

They are gross and intoxicating, beautiful and cautious. Just when I think I have them figured out, something changes. A different ending and a perfect lie. He comes back knocking on your door and asks for another kiss. He calls you back. He does not. He can love you enough to hold you from behind and rest his chin on your shoulder.  One day he's there and the next he's gone.  Maybe he comes back, maybe he doesn't.  Something has changed and unless it's worth working for and keeping, then the moment is over.  I keep hoping that I will find the one man for whom the moment is never over.

He will be he one that I never tire of hearing my name on his lips.

This is an adaptation of a Thought Catalog post called "Why I Love Men" by June Tegon.  However, I adapted it to suit me personally using some of his writing but adding my own as well.