Damn birdies totally stole the show :D

The dreams with the huntsman are really quite so beautiful. Had another one today. He was warm and moist and gentle and kind, thick wool of his clothes, his breath and his voice, but that is not the part that got to me, for kissing is wonderful, but it is not what I live for. We left the dark, basement-of-a-cottage-like indoors in which we were fully clad to go outside and then we were not so dressed anymore. I was normal, my evening, summer hunting clothes, but he wasn't a human any longer. There were 3 feet of snow up to my waist, the lightest, dryest snow you can imagine, and I pushed through it as if it was feathers. It was nighttime, we were on a hill, surrounded by a forest, black spruces, ancient old bare oaks, as quiet as only the dead of winter can be. Starless, flawless night, silver and still, the hills around us perfectly dark, clear and distant. Not a single light, civil or natural, anywhere, just the wild glow of snow that's never been thread upon. He walked behind me, now in the form of an old, large dark grey fox. We just walked. Just the sound of crushed snow. Waist-high snow. Starless sky, black spruces, two stuck souls, and it was perfect. Like a poem to exist within. 

I think I know why I never pursued a career of a photojournalist (a job I was born for)...

Can't think of a single good one who'd lived happy.

New stuff on Etsy

"Gem session" :D

Sooo tired

It's remarkable, this sensation of being thoroughly and utterly exhausted. In a good way. I mean, I wasn't exhausted yesterday, just needy, because I was at home alone and yearning; and tomorrow it isn't going to be a strenuous day. I may even allow for my cold to develop and deal with itself. I took five pills today - three for stomach acid and two for inflammation. 

    My hands hurt so much, now that the adrenaline has simmered down, it's almost like a burning tickling. From larger cuts to microscopic plethoras of pricks from chestnut cupules I fell onto. I fell twice - and I was only wearing one glove, clever me -  once onto rocks and roots and another time trying to slide down onto a road, managing to pinch my thumb on a broken branch. Twice is not unusual. twice is almost nothing, considering the terrain I took.

     I have a thing for walking on the extreme end of a rake, also because I enjoy getting lost, but mostly because I then allow for animals to escape the enclosure. Problem is, the furthermost ends of a line are usually the least pleasant to walk - either the forest is ending and the growth is all over, or there's a stream at the end, and the slope is muddy, rotten and viciously steep. Those are my favorite terrains. You really have to know what you're doing. You should also really wear gloves. In the beginning, I was the only one to sport them and I must have looked dumb, but now most people do. 

      We've slept in the afternoon and I took a shower and the evening was really calm, and still, at nine, I can barely keep my head from bobbing into the keyboard. Every part of me hurts, my ass hurts from falling, I have thorn pricks everywhere, places you never want to have thorn pricks, and my hands are itchy burning, tiny cuts all the way up to the elbows. They look like I've been savagely whipped by a ladybug. 

Sign for life, in green

And today, because I was there, all but that rifleman I mention, missed or simply failed. Thirty hunters raking though a valley, nine dogs chasing through, and a single kill. And when I tell you twice I walked onto a trail so fresh the muddy leaves were still unbending, I assure you, until the moment it began, there were plenty of animals in those woods.  But Lesnik and Herne saw the sign on my chest and agreed, fuck 'em. It's the day spent in nature that counts, not the roast after. I did approach the rifleman about getting me the atlas bone, so perhaps at least there's a crown in the story. That man likes me as if I were a little kid. I wonder if the idea that I may like him as if I were an adult has ever occurred to him, or is the very concept of considering a friend's wife so unrealistic for the pragmatists this people all are, all they ever think about is just hunting, fishing, hound dogs, their work, strikes, occasional sports grandchildren and once in a while a leisureful vacation. 

       There is another half-deaf man in the group, we just started communicating today. It feels good to compare how we hear sounds when a room of people is all talking one over another. It's strenuous if you are actually trying to make out conversations, but kind of a pleasant rolling mess if you just accept it. Problem is almost all of these men whose company I enjoy have mustaches and although they try to tell me things, I can only assume what they were. Probably on the subjects of hunting, fishing, hound dogs, their work, strikes, occasional sports grandchildren and once in a while a leisureful vacation

Found a gray hair!

... I kid you not, I found a grey hair on my peanut. I thought I saw it the other day, but not G confirms it. my first gray hair. He says it's 158.000 : 1 now, since he's turned almost entirely grey in the years he's been with me. I do have that effect on people. 

let's try to find the reason, shall we? besides me not being quite the spring chicken. I suppose my most vehement and distasteful thought of the past few days has been about a kiss that would sink a few ships. Contemplating it, I believe that if you desire to, a kiss can be almost as damaging as a bullet. Namely, if I kissed a person - proper kiss, not some half-arse sisterly affair - a very particular person, and they kissed back - just once, just one kiss - their marriage would be over, my marriage would be over, the solid friendship between g and them would be for ever done and G would never trust another human being again, or even socialize, for that matter; their entire family would feel confused, betrayed, the foundation of their lives, calm and soft and trusting, shattered, unforgivable, and my own in-laws, and my family members, too, would all stop speaking to me for ruining something as magnificent as G and I have.

Because, really, it makes you wonder - and only a kiss can do this - if it was a shitty relationship, nobody would notice and nothing would fall to pieces, but because it is a tremendous relationship, something as simple as a kiss would explode it. Such is the potential energy of a steady relationship. 

No wonder I have a gray hair, thinking about such dangerous things. Destroying twenty or so lives with just one act of sweet attraction. Really makes you wanna go there, just to see the carnage :D 

Okay, stop. This is juggling loaded handguns. And we are talking about hunters, too. 

Although, on a funny note, I asked a pal about distracting a capable rifleman, who seems immune to my jinx, and she said to flash him my tits. I remarked, clearly you've never been on a winter hunt - each f us wears around nineteen layers of clothing. It would take half an hour to get there. kind of defeats the purpose of a flash.

Devastating hunt today, because I was not allowed to come along. Big old boys club. But I am coming with tomorrow, so Herne and Lesnik, quit chasing booze and broads, get your shit together and let's hold his.