Accessorizing your vulnerabilities

On PostSecret: "This is the last time you'll see cuts on my arm, because I'm deciding to be happy."

Doesn't that speak to you?
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The army is taking The Boy away again. You're only supposed to do reservist once a year, and he's already been sent overseas once, but he's being packed off again barely eight months later. Apparently the army considers the year to end in March because they follow the financial year. (The ARMY follows the financial year) Again, the inherently self-contradictory nature of the term 'army intelligence' manifests itself. Bloody sons of bitches. And they're doing it during the long break. Yes, even more reasons to feel patriotic. (not)

I am going into major Boy missage before the fact, especially since I've been sorely deprived of contact during the entire month of October. Meeting up once a week was considered quite a coup. Add to that the fact that I don't have long here at all.

Sometimes I wonder if that's a good thing. To have all your defences down and to let someone (not you) run all over the vulnerable part of your psyche, planting flags claiming this virgin territory land as theirs. Is it strange to be thrilled and terrified at the same time? I usually have the doors to my heart double-bolted and barred. But here it seems that the bolts have been loosened, but the door flung wide open. With a little fuzzy 'Welcome' placemat too boot. In (ugh) pink, no less.

The Other Cat said to me the other day: "At least you ended up with a happy ending."

I said: "I don't know that yet."

And I don't. But I think I'm owed.

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Enough emotional claptrap. I'll distract you with pretty pictures.

These are the only accessories a woman ever needs.







Skin art. Never someone's name, for the love of God.








Then all you need is a big pretty snake.


Pictures are from KingSnake and Snake Babe.