Puppy Lovin'

As the summer of love is winding down, Little Guy has gone to visit his biological dad in California for a couple of weeks, so Hubby and I truly have an empty nest for a short time.

As you guys who've read here for awhile know, we had 3 yorkies and an Australian Shepherd mix. My little baby, Molly, died almost 2 years ago, and Stinky Pete finally went on to her reward (at the ripe old age of 17) a couple of weeks ago.

Charlie, the yorkie that is left, is 15 and not in good health. When she goes, the Noodle (Aussie) will be absolutely bereft, as she is a pack dog and the yorkies were her peeps.

So for the last 6 months or so, I've been looking for a companion for her. I can't bear the heartbreak of having more yorkies, so I looked at other breeds and contacted a few breeders.

One breed I particularly liked was the toy Australian Shepherds. I'd never heard of them before, but our vet has one, and it is a very beautiful, smart dog. I found a breeder in Western Colorado and started a relationship with her, in anticipation to when we might be looking for a puppy. Told her what I was looking for (female, tri-black).

Well right after Stinky Pete passed away and we realized how precarious Charlie's health is, the breeder had a puppy that was just what we asked for.

 

Last weekend, Hubby and I took a scenic drive and stayed over in this lovely little town called Montrose, and brought our new baby home!

After a little stink eye from the big dogs, she got over her shyness and she fits right in.  She's about the size of a football, and is such a little love!

 

Everybody meet Madeline (now known as "the Roni" to go with "the Noodle")!

 

 

 

More Love in the Summer

In my opinion, the mark of a good author is one that can skillfully suspend the disbelief of the reader. That's why I enjoy Charlaine Harris' Southern Vampire Series, and Diana Galbadon's Outlander series. I can almost believe that Vampires and time travel exist.

On the other hand, badly-written sex can almost ruin a book. I really loved Laurel K. Hamilton's first 5 Anita Blake Vampire Hunter books. Then came the unsexy-sex. Lots of it. There'd be a whole chapter on it, and then two chapters of everybody pissing and moaning about it. So if you figure in 3 chapters of unsexy-sex and whining 3 or 4 times throughout the book (and skip it), you only get about 5 chapters of real story. I could skate through those suckers in an hour.

Hardly worth the trip to the library.

Since this is my summer of love, I've been reading a LOT of romance novels for the first time in years. If it has boobies and bulging crotches on the cover, I'll read it. Hubby and I have formed a book club of two---I'll read excerpts to him, and he'll decide whether he wants to hump me or laugh himself silly.

Most of it is crap. Some of it is quite spectacular. So far, Amanda Quick is the front runner for writing some sexy-sex. Deanna Raybourne doesn't actually write any sexy-sex, but her first Julia Grey novel was so romantic and heartbreaking (and very very good) that it actually made me weep a little.

I went back and read some authors that I hadn't seen in years. Eons ago, I really liked Bertrice Small's Skye O'Malley series. Lots of sexy-sex and a thundering good historical story. I wanted to see what else she'd accomplished over my long romance hiatus.

The woman has lost her damn mind. That's what she's accomplished.

There is just NO WAY on God's Green Earth that you can make butt sex romantic.

 

NO freaking way.

The heroine, being widowed, has just remarried. Her husband feels a little cheated that the field has been plowed before. So since she has presumably picked her nose and cleaned out her ears over the years, there is only one virgin orifice left to him and he decides he needs a little butt-lovin' to feel that she is truly his.

As he is (like most romance heros) hung like a stallion, you'd think there'd be some pain involved when he buttafuacoed her "little rose hole". But no, in Bertrice's world, virgin anuses are much like other girlie parts---after the first thrust to break the maidenhead (do buttholes have hymens?) all is ecstasy.

No mention of the doody clinging to his throbbing manhood when he's done. He just flips her over, unhygienically pokes it into her old, used orifice and brings her to orgasmic bliss.

As hubby would (and did say):

NO!! NOT SEXY!!

Yech.

Attila's Summer of Love

Sorry I haven't been around very much this summer, but there's a reason for it.

After our time away together in June, Hubby and I have been rediscovering each other and why we fell in love.

I don't know why this has happened right now---it could be that he's just had a milestone birthday, or that I've lost 70 lbs and have been feeling really great, or maybe because the Aspiring Adult moved out in June and we have more privacy---but we've been enjoying every second of it.

It's not like we were having problems or anything. But after 20 years together, and all of the crap that's happened in the last 3 years or so (the cruddy economy, my health issues, the Big Kid's illness, etc), there just wasn't an enormous amount of romance or intimacy happening in the Atilla house. Not a lot of time or energy for Hubby and I to be close and giggle and be a couple of kids in love.

So for the last couple of months, instead of being on the computer or busy with other non-important stuff, Hubby and I have been having lots and lots of S.E.X.

Or in other words, we've been makin' more bacon than the IHOP.

The kids are disgusted with us. Not that we've been flaunting it, but they can't help but observe the hand-holding, the cuddling, the quick little kisses....

And when their dad grabs my now-bony ass, they run screaming from the room.

But as in all things Atilla, I always find a way to embarrass myself.

I started reading romance novels again...something I haven't done in years. I've been sampling a variety of authors and each one is worse than the last. LOL I've been saving the most cringe-worthy passages to read to Hubby while we're alone so we can laugh our asses off. One author noted in her afterword that her fans write to her and tell her that they read her sex scenes to each other as foreplay. I tried that.

Hubby fell off the bed, laughing so hard and shouting, "NO! NOT SEXY!!"

Every day for years, I call Hubby at his office around 4pm to see what time he expects to be home and to give him a list if he needs to stop at the grocery.

For the last couple of months, however, I've decided that it was time to give his naughty bits a new name and have been calling him to try out new ones I've read from these horrendous books (or made up) and to remind him he's got a dirty dirty mistress waiting for him at home.

So when he answers his private line, I'll say something like, "Rampant Member" or "Sly and the Family Stones" and he'll start snickering.

Did I mention that he's been enjoying himself immensely?

The other day I read something that tickled my funny bone and decided to try it on my daily call.

I should have known that something was wrong as soon as he answered the phone. "Hello, this is XXXX, may I help you?"

It sounded like he was in a tunnel. But I soldiered on.

"Throbbing Manhood!" I bellowed.

There was silence. And then tittering. Several voices tittering. He had accidentally put us on speakerphone and there were people in his office.

"Uh, I think I have a wrong number," I stammered before hanging up.

He kept up the charade, but as most of his staff know, I call at that time and I don't think they were fooled.

Hubby thinks it's funny as hell, but I don't think I'll be showing my red face at the company picnic next week.

Oy.