I like order in my life. Everything runs smoother when there is order. For example, there's my garage. I like a clean and orderly garage. Mine is organized and precise - tools hang on a pegboard, screws and nails and drill bits are stored in clear containers so you can see what's there and the containers are stacked on heavy wood shelving that I built myself. Large tools like shovels and rakes are off the floor and on hooks on the wall. You can see what you need at a glance. That's the way it should be.
There is an alcove in our garage for Sar to keep her sculpting tools. So I ask. Is there a logical reason why she left her tools and pieces of her latest masterpiece in the middle garage bay where I like to park my car? Never mind. I don't want to know. I pick them up and put them away so I can park my car.
The desk in my home office is as orderly as the one on base. Drawers are organized, the desktop is clear except for a desk lamp and telephone and the items needed to accomplish the task at hand. When the task is complete, the desk is cleared. Occasionally one of the cats thinks this is the perfect place to sleep - a swat of my arm and the desk is cleared.
Dare I ask why I found Sar's cell phone and one of her undergarments on my desk this afternoon? I'd rather ask about the sculpting tools - her undergarments are best left a mystery.
To have order takes discipline and practice until it's automatic. You make a mess - you clean it up. You see something out of order - you fix it. It's a simple concept.
We all have circumstances when the good order and discipline of one's life is interrupted. For some it is a family upheaval. For others it is a hurricane or tornado or earthquake. For me it was a whirling sensuous imp that danced into my life with a sweet smile, twinkling eyes, a sexy body, soft laughter, and unpredictable giggles that fill my heart. Nothing in all my training prepared me for life with an imp.
Tonight we have a neighborhood cookout. There is a small park enclosed in our community and we use it often. There are monthly cookouts and we attend them when we can. Neighbors bring their children and dogs and we grill hot dogs and hamburgers and salmon if it is in season. We meet every month all year long - sun or snow or rain - and sometimes we play games-- softball or volleyball or go sledding if the snow is deep enough. Everyone has a good time and predictably my wife enjoys herself. In the winter, she can get lost among the "kids" making snow angels.
Sar's pups got more hot dogs than they needed. Sar ate too many burgers - she does not eat the bun so they are not as filling. We all had ice cream, including the dogs, and we agreed that the March cookout should include something with apples and peaches. With any luck that will include Sar's cobbler and not an archery contest with my imp trying to shoot an arrow through an apple on my head.
Today is the online slumber party and Sar and I will attend for a time here and there. She is giggling over some of the antics and I am admiring all the entries into the sexy panties contest. Very nice choices. Sar shows me that some of them come from Victoria's Secret. I will stop by their store this week and pick up a few for her. That will make her happy and I will be happy to see her in them.
We enjoy the slumber party and then have a party of our own. Sar models the nightie she says is naughty and I have to agree. It is very naughty and I think she should be spanked for teasing me with it. We sip some wine, share a bit of chocolate and so on and the nightie is stored away for another time - all in all a pleasant afternoon and evening.
After breakfast Sar has a cake in the oven. It's a favorite of hers-- tunnel of fudge cake-- chocolate like you never tasted before. This is a cake she rarely shares with anyone, not even me but I steal a bite just to tease her. This is a cake she bakes and eats when something is bothering her so I pick her up and settle on the couch to cuddle her. If she wants to tell me what is bothering her, she will. If she does not, I will not pressure her. Over the years I have learned she will find my lap and my arms when she is uncertain and will tell me what is bothering her when she is ready to talk.
Sar spent a part of the day writing. She keeps a personal journal as I do. This is a journal - not stories she will post but a chronicle of her thoughts and our lives and I do not know what else. Once in a while she shares parts of it with me. She writes with a pen in a notebook that will be bound with other notebooks when the year is over. I sit in her office and read while she writes and when she has finished her entries she finds my lap.
She tells me what is bothering her and that she loves me and my heart is full that she trusts me with her darkest secrets. I hold her tight as we share our thoughts and our love and later she surprises me by sharing some of that special cake with me.
She is headachy this morning with a slight cough and the beginning of a sore throat. I feel her brow and she is too warm. Sar teases me that I got my medical degree on Google but I actually learned a bit of first aid when I was in BUD/s School. All Seals receive this training. I will stay home and keep her close to me all day and she will protest that I am babying her for no reason.
There is a reason. She is mine. I love her and I will pull rank and use my strength to overpower her, warm her tush if necessary and make her eat and take meds and rest. I will hold her and kiss her senseless until she falls asleep and ruthlessly spoil her. I'll hear her call me a baboon butthead and tell me I lack couth and when she takes a breath I'll slip a piece of chocolate between her lips.
And later when she is weak from my kisses, I will love her in ways that bring her pleasure and my heart will swell when she says my name and tells me she loves me.