A pagan ritual...and THIS is why people have babies!

My daughter and I connected yesterday in a beautiful manner.  I took her to the mall (I rarely do that, as I emphatically do NOT enjoy this typical American pastime) and pushed her around in her stroller (which I also rarely do, as I "wear" her everywhere), and this little girl was thrilled! The sounds, the sights, the people, the glitter; she simply loved it. And then we sat down to give her a bottle and she ended up laughing (and drinking at the same time!) and playing with my face--yanking my ears, my chin, caressing my cheek and smiling and giggling. As for me, I was loving it, too. So happy, so content. And she is beautiful, absolutely stunning--my round face and luminous eyes; her father's auburn hair, light skin and stunning blue eye color. This afternoon was worth everything. And this is why people have babies : )

Things are getting very intense now, as my "rendezvous" is approaching--less than two weeks to go. We are making plans, mercilessly teasing each other, finishing up our shopping expeditions...for me, I try to make every encounter different. This time, it's all about the details. Those exquisite details from etsy, the collar he gave me, sexy black stiletto heels, tatted lace bracelets from England, and the perfect finishing touch--Italian black stockings with red lace from Papilio. The sales woman helped me pick out the perfect touch : ) Ahhh. I'd already sent him the leather bracelet, just to get his mind racing...he's a very intellectual thinker and planner and these details send him over the edge; I just love it. And as for him, he's actually been making (permanent!) changes to his bedroom just for me, to accommodate my particular tastes. What a treat this will be. Next weekend is my spa day to purify my body; a ritual that I do every time. I feel as though I am preparing for a pagan ritual, and perhaps this is exactly what it is. It feels natural and in touch with the primal forces of nature--last time we were together, the crickets sang (their mating sound) so loudly, almost to match the songs coming from the inside of the house, that he calls me "the woman who speaks cricket" and I call him "the man who makes crickets jealous."