tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81338606517593274362012-02-15T06:27:24.821-05:00I am a forty-three year old registered nurse who has barely begun to discover the intimate and erotic promises of an adult nursing relationship, though I've imagined it all of my life. What a rare, beautiful gift between a man and a woman...for me, the epitome of all that is feminine, sensual and soul-deep.mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.comBlogger4231100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-41983595790472873252012-02-11T17:59:00.016-05:002012-02-13T20:02:31.701-05:00

In recent weeks I am acutely aware that my boy is becoming a teenager.  He's begun claiming quiet moments of privacy now.  Closing the door.  Asserting his opinion.  Challenging mine. His bedroom is quiet tonight, the boy himself away at a special-occasion dinner with his father's family.  The balance of the house is quiet, too...candles scattered, sunset just passed.  I sit on the floor of his

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-68133982300688144642012-02-11T15:50:00.002-05:002012-02-11T15:50:53.117-05:00

Thank you...

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-29731965401402431172012-02-10T16:47:00.006-05:002012-02-11T04:58:26.735-05:00

The Friday atmosphere where I work falls well on the casual side, thus it's usually the day I wear funky, printed scrubs.  This morning, I chose black Harley Davidson bottoms with a baby pink, long-sleeved "Save the Tatas" t-shirt and pink clogs.  A few minutes after I arrived, a doctor at work commented on the apparent mismatch he perceived in my attire, and another was quick to correct him. (

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-28919878910378710752012-02-06T22:19:00.002-05:002012-02-07T06:20:52.198-05:00

Today would have been Bob Marley's 67th birthday...reggae and rum, anyone?

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-5048823493730823882012-01-02T21:22:00.000-05:002012-01-02T21:22:29.280-05:00

To each of you who visit this space and share tiny pieces of me...may you have a peaceful and prosperous year, filled with blessings, good health and a bountiful abundance of spirit.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-56038281692181719052011-12-09T19:27:00.008-05:002011-12-12T22:48:27.687-05:00

A beautiful friend of mine was diagnosed with breast cancer eight years ago.  She endured a brutal battle for her health, losing both breasts in a double radical mastectomy and undergoing a dozen months of chemotherapy and radiation, but ultimately she triumphed.  She's been in remission for three years now. Early last spring, free of cancer and with swimsuit season just around the corner, my

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-19361044681437437902011-12-08T17:39:00.003-05:002011-12-09T18:01:25.815-05:00

Time and again, when a new baby is born, those in the room look to me to guide them in the moments just after birth. Just be still, I say to them all. Take it in. Watch.  Be at peace. The scenario which I strive over and over to create, my gift to every new family, is beautifully painted here... http://www.midwife.org/index.asp?bid=325&BlogEntryID=274

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-24630631536677882062011-12-05T16:00:00.000-05:002011-12-05T16:00:41.827-05:00

Why is Santa always so jolly? Because he knows where the naughty girls live!

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-20173218547524555612011-11-26T13:21:00.001-05:002011-11-26T14:00:06.614-05:00

Have managed to interrupt a rather wonderful Thanksgiving weekend by breaking my toe...the first and only time in my life that I've ever broken a bone. Well, three bones, actually, in a split-second underestimation of gravity. Sigh.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-28732348183249873822011-11-26T07:54:00.000-05:002011-11-26T13:18:13.693-05:00

I saw a print ad last week for "ballroom jeans" and thought, "What the hell are 'ballroom' jeans?  They have little hoop skirts on the bottom?  Lace and ruffles?  What?" Now I get it...and I gotta give props to the sheer marketing genius behind them. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RhrYrCRF6Eg

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-4173315881444763052011-11-25T09:54:00.006-05:002011-11-26T10:49:32.146-05:00

The greed and excess which are the hallmarks of this four-headed monster called Black Friday have inspired in my household two small protests.  My son and I shared quite a long time last night just sitting together, wrapped in soft old quilts amidst a home warm from the peaceful glow of a pair of antique oil lamps, television and computers and video screens turned off, talking gently about

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-70837352407824960362011-11-24T19:39:00.001-05:002011-11-24T22:06:14.776-05:00

My Thanksgiving celebration with my son today was a quiet one, just the two of us, and since he (rather conveniently) inherited my lifelong dislike of turkey, we don't necessarily feel bound to the traditional meal.  If I do choose a classic feast, it's my great-grandmother's cornbread dressing which is always the star, beautifully prepared with roasted chicken instead of turkey.  This year,

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-10480970667515998262011-11-22T22:25:00.003-05:002011-11-23T16:46:11.418-05:00

Finally...a small step closer to mainstream America. It's not yet ANR, but surely this might encourage another few gentle souls to embrace the idea of induced lactation. http://moms.today.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2011/11/22/8822199-more-adoptive-moms-learn-to-breast-feed-their-babies

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-92006484181118084082011-11-18T07:11:00.000-05:002011-11-18T07:11:37.132-05:00

My child's new claim to fame...?  He's the kid who can make Origami Yoda and Darth Paper, complete with lightsabers.  In the fickle heirarchy of middle school, this particular talent is golden.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-69703286883110015662011-11-09T21:11:00.000-05:002011-11-09T21:11:40.148-05:00

Very shortly I'll be off for a walk accompanied by two of my favorite things...my little guy and the light of a full autumn moon.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-73080228409788028772011-10-31T20:36:00.000-04:002011-10-31T20:36:06.438-04:00

...and so begins the darker half of the year.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-45941877562507780152011-10-24T19:38:00.003-04:002011-10-24T21:36:49.648-04:00

My great-aunt is 90 years old.  Her grandchildren bought a computer for her birthday, a simple one, thinking they might teach her to use it, if nothing else so she could e-mail and converse with them (and one great-grandchild) and share photographs.  Her eldest grandson, a software engineer, added all of our e-mail addresses to her address book, and began computer lessons this past Saturday. This

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-43205443458937929102011-10-19T22:25:00.000-04:002011-10-19T22:25:41.800-04:00

I was amused today to discover that my girlfriend C has actually named her vibrator.  It's Bob.  As in Battery-Operated Boyfriend. Who says I don't pick cool friends?

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-80963243416866737422011-10-13T20:37:00.003-04:002011-10-13T20:38:47.877-04:00

    what makes it real isn't the mystery or masterly technique or even a love so strong you can smash bricks with it it's the spinning waters way i feel when you grab me by the eyes and slip your soft white panties off ~david meuel

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-24340327822535776172011-10-11T17:56:00.003-04:002011-10-11T17:58:00.115-04:00

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-41033474387136098392011-10-06T20:01:00.001-04:002011-10-06T20:03:41.219-04:00

The blogosphere is attributing the following quote (in various incarnations) to Betty White...though I think she may have stolen it.  Either way it's funny as hell: "When people speak of the need to 'toughen up,' they say one should 'grow some balls?'  What?!?  Balls are weak...and sensitive!  Hell, you men cover them in hard plastic just to play a little afternoon game of football! If you really

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-69971275289753890602011-09-28T06:07:00.000-04:002011-09-28T06:07:07.254-04:00

Live your life  in such a way that, when your feet hit the floor in the morning, the Universe shudders for a moment and says, "Oh, hell...she's awake." PS:  Good morning, world!

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-86720700215256028252011-09-22T23:31:00.002-04:002011-09-23T19:50:00.255-04:00

I believe I mentioned this would happen... http://bites.today.com/_news/2011/09/21/7876625-parents-call-for-boycott-of-ben-jerrys-schweddy-balls-flavor And as for my own house?  Mispronunciation was in my favor. Boy, peering into the freezer:  "Hey!  We have ice cream!"  (Not a frequent occurrence here...) Me, standing at the stove, quietly stirring, more than a little cautious about what might

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-84372257717649946812011-09-18T21:19:00.000-04:002011-09-18T21:19:39.338-04:00

...how could I not buy this for my girlfriend's new baby boy? http://www.savethetatas.com/images/products/1816156w.jpg

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-43326100664544496912011-09-17T22:32:00.005-04:002011-09-18T19:10:02.435-04:00

Each week, I receive dozens of notes from readers.  Some are poignant and sad, others are hopeful, still others are frustrated and defeated.  Once in a great while, along comes a true gem.  I have received permission from the author of this note to publish it here, a brief but exquisite insight into one man's experience of a true adult nursing relationship. Dear May, Thank you for sharing your

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-91377499646167386132011-09-08T19:09:00.010-04:002011-09-10T13:07:07.672-04:00

I can sense the outrage brewing in the Bible Belt even as I type... America's values!  Her moral compass!  What kind of deviant, perverted message does this send to the innocent ones wandering through the frozen foods aisle? C'mon, folks...it's funny. http://www.boston.com/news/odd/articles/2011/09/08/ben__jerrys_unveils_schweddy_balls_ice_cream/?camp=misc%3Aon%3Ashare%3Aarticle PS: And there's

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-57387931544188501082011-08-31T13:31:00.003-04:002011-08-31T18:05:24.708-04:00

In the years I've been writing in the ANR community, I've seen hundreds of photographs of breasts, and hundreds more of "ANR" as the mainstream porn industry would portray it. They're always wrong. The essence of ANR isn't simply that her breast exists, or even that his mouth waits, posed with exaggerated focus  near her nipple as precious milk sprays wasted in every direction. No, the spirit of

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-27870622855505352132011-08-23T20:09:00.020-04:002011-08-24T08:00:20.608-04:00

In a few short days, I will embark upon a solo journey to Nevada's Black Rock Desert, where I will join several of my dearest college girlfriends for the celebrated alternative gathering known as Burning Man.  A number of you have suggested that I will return home a changed woman, somehow collecting along the journey random unknown pieces which complete me, and perhaps you're right.  I suspect,

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-80157077472776760052011-08-23T14:26:00.001-04:002011-08-23T14:42:55.492-04:00

Freaky earthquake in my part of the world this afternoon...my house was all rattly for too many seconds.  What the hell?

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-17505474033214167062011-08-20T10:28:00.004-04:002011-08-20T12:23:54.997-04:00

Eight weeks ago, on one of the first few days of summer camp, I was walking back from a medical call at the waterfront when one of the children whom I'd seen earlier in the day offered me a small flower he'd picked from one of the dozens of climbing vines around camp.  I thanked him and tucked the bright yellow flower into my pinned-up hair, where it remained for the rest of the day. The next

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-61187840459143291282011-08-06T00:42:00.004-04:002011-08-06T22:39:10.206-04:00

In six weeks as a summer camp nurse, I've tended to more than my share of broken bones, stitches, ear infections, poison ivy, tummy aches and other childhood maladies.  Thus far, the absolute funniest visit to the infirmary came just after dusk on a perfect summer night. The children were all at evening activities, and the infirmary was quiet.  I was alone, stocking medication for the following

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-68671101731877679972011-07-23T20:17:00.006-04:002011-08-04T20:59:14.100-04:00

Many, many of you have sent very kind notes wondering why I am not writing, and the answer is this.  For four weeks now, I've been working as an RN at a summer sleepaway camp in the Northeast.  My son is with me, though he sleeps one of the many scattered, wooded camp bunks while I have a small, private cabin near the infirmary.  We'll be there together for a total of eight weeks this summer,

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-56351587832951087662011-06-27T01:47:00.000-04:002011-06-27T01:47:36.823-04:00

Your letter was so very sad.  I wish I had comforting words of some sort, or kind advice.  All I have to offer, however, is the generations-old wisdom of my great-grandmother: Honey, if he'll cheat with you, he'll cheat on you. Yes, ANR is difficult to find...trust me, I know how difficult...but it isn't worth sacrificing your dignity. You asked what I would do if I was in your shoes.  I'd tell

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-35656005675010563042011-06-19T15:33:00.004-04:002011-06-19T19:38:53.666-04:00

Dear grumpy, middle-aged, balding neighbor guy whose backyard pool I can see from my kitchen window: For the love of God, mister, when you decide to got for a swim at five in the morning, either (a) turn off your pool lights, or (b) put on some pants. Signed, Nice lady next door who totally does not wish to witness your shriveled bits over coffee.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-60973234849660585462011-06-15T19:05:00.000-04:002011-06-15T19:05:39.320-04:00

My great-grandmother knew the names of all the full moons, and she taught them to me at a young age.  June's full moon is the Strawberry Moon.  It should be beautiful tonight.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-72223206667284542302011-06-14T20:53:00.002-04:002011-06-14T22:52:41.495-04:00

It's my first Tuesday night alone in the new house, and there's a low, dark storm outside, which I love.  It feels like a most exquisite housewarming gift from Mother Nature. I plan to take a long, hot bath, then sleep naked, drifting off with the bedroom windows open so I can listen to the rain.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-65037963077787824712011-06-13T20:30:00.007-04:002011-06-14T20:14:47.463-04:00

In 1993, I first attended Burning Man, the annual folk-art-music festival in the remote Nevada desert.  I lived in Colorado at the time.  I was happily single then, young and carefree as my journey to Burning Man was born among friends in the wee, stoned hours of a Friday night, initially nothing more than an adventuresome and rather spontaneous road trip.  Seven of us decided to drive and camp 

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-4282018608832618302011-06-09T15:19:00.003-04:002011-06-09T21:08:00.396-04:00

Somewhere amidst the recent move, while attempting to bring order and beauty to our new home, I celebrated a birthday...my forty-third birthday, to be exact.  Like others surely must, I had a quiet moment of reflection just before bed on the eve of the day I was born. I'm not sure just what I thought life would be like at forty-three.  I imagined I would be married to my best friend, but I'm not.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-75382030616918751922011-06-05T21:22:00.001-04:002011-08-24T00:03:10.900-04:00

After a week of days which began at sunrise and ended well into the night, my new house is finally settled.  My son's bedroom is teenager-ish and perfect, with two big windows, one overlooking the front porch and the other framing the side yard, and all remnants of little-boy-hood banished to the basement.  My own bedroom is tranquil and serene, my private oasis in shades of lavender, leaf-green

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-77796446380657362552011-06-01T13:04:00.003-04:002011-06-03T14:05:54.485-04:00

Yesterday was the first of several big moving days, and I was very, very careful to pack the toy drawer away in a plain brown cardboard box marked "Mom's Bedroom."  A meticulous tape job ensured that nobody would attempt to open the box.  My plan was to tuck it out of sight in my closet to be unpacked when I was alone in the house. Note to self: It's important to take the batteries out of the

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-89145919870421462292011-05-28T21:45:00.003-04:002011-05-29T10:15:26.578-04:00

I've done the math.  I worked 42 hours this week.  I spent another thirty-plus hours painting and getting things in order at the new house. What I like about my new house: The boy will have a finished basement playroom (with a bathroom!) in which to entertain his rugrat friends.  There's a sink over the kitchen window.  The laundry room is huge.  I get to make new memories.  There's an extra

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-5683015353807222502011-05-24T16:47:00.004-04:002011-05-25T23:32:42.663-04:00

I've spent the past three afternoons painting at the new house.  Today it finally occurred to me to bring along the iPod dock so I'd have music to keep me company. I chose Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. I've seen CSNY two times in concert...once at Madison Square Garden not long after 9/11, and again, sans Neil Young, at a beautiful outdoor amphitheater near my house.  On a magical late summer

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-70291847415956827912011-05-21T08:00:00.003-04:002011-05-21T19:14:51.032-04:00

Many of you have expressed dismay upon learning that the boy and I are leaving our small cottage, and the truth is, since making the decision to do so nearly a month ago, I've had my own moments of sadness and uncertainty as well.  Yet when I struggle, I remember a dear friend's words...change only comes when the pain of where one is becomes greater than the fear of where one is going. And that

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-92216186483660860472011-05-15T23:17:00.004-04:002011-05-15T23:33:45.259-04:00

My friend C stopped by this evening to help with packing.  On the kitchen counter was a stack of paint color samples, the small color-wheel cards which can be picked up by the dozen at any big-box home improvement store.  She scanned my choices:  "Riesling" for the living room, "Morning Zen" for my office, "Solana Ray" for the kitchen, "Foggy Mirror" for my bedroom, "Inhale" for the boy's bedroom

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-82974586230221518592011-05-15T18:00:00.005-04:002011-05-15T23:08:34.015-04:00

Spent the first half of this rainy day helping the boy complete a ridiculously complex school project, and the last half creeping up and down a ladder, painting the living room in our new house while singing along to Fleetwood Mac on the stereo.  At this point, it's hard to tell the paint spatters from the freckles which already were mine.  I even have paint smudges on my face!  Think I'm due 

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-32569325116501926902011-05-09T18:44:00.002-04:002011-05-09T18:44:46.151-04:00

"...in other news, Pakistan totally didn't know that weed was in the glove box.  It's not even their car, man."

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-69515283849896242392011-05-07T22:05:00.004-04:002011-05-07T22:07:07.243-04:00

An interesting piece which I stumbled across in my wanderings... http://sonic.net/yronwode/arcane-archive.org/religion/hinduism/yoga/tantra/neo-tantra/bosom-love-experience-1.php

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-85809037044896668062011-05-06T22:40:00.000-04:002011-05-07T22:55:44.129-04:00

So it seems that I'm standing at a fork in the road. Think I'll take the left branch. I'll let you all know what the journey holds.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-51759480755479755132011-05-04T21:36:00.005-04:002011-05-05T19:45:26.483-04:00

Many, many people discover my blog, find some elusive but common thread, then write to me...sometimes a short note of acknowledgment, other times a long, intricate story of self-discovery. The most often-asked question centers upon exactly how it is that ANR exists for me.  What does it mean to be a woman whose sexuality is so inexplicably linked to her desire to feed her man at her breast? (To

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-2398903639354331982011-05-02T13:02:00.004-04:002011-05-02T21:19:09.851-04:00

My little guy doesn't remember a time when the name Osama bin Laden didn't create some vague unrest and worry in the adults around him. He was not quite two when the Towers fell, and sadly, being so near to Manhattan, his whole childhood has been lived in a world of heightened security and invasive airport searches, a new normal with the constant ebb and flow of a War on Terror along its

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-48683965769160372602011-05-01T09:33:00.003-04:002011-10-31T20:40:52.429-04:00

Bright Blessings on this first day of May.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-62418771329723132462011-04-24T21:19:00.005-04:002011-04-24T23:18:20.157-04:00

...was this last hour before bed, sitting with my boy in the old wooden rocking chairs on my front porch, watching an impressive spring thunderstorm unfold and talking about the big wide world and our small place in it. He's growing up.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-77913828072238221352011-04-20T13:54:00.006-04:002011-04-24T21:14:30.863-04:00

Several years ago, I went to the mall to purchase a birthday outfit for my niece, who was turning eleven.  Instead, after an hour of browsing childrens apparel that seemed wholly designed for the prostitute set, I gave up and bought a gift card at Borders. Finally, we're seeing the beginnings of a national conversation about the dangers inherent in the sexualization of little girls. http://

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-63658937059188820952011-04-17T12:06:00.007-04:002011-04-24T21:15:22.549-04:00

The boy has decided that he wishes to learn to play hockey. Hmm...spending my Sunday morning in a twenty-five degree ice rink is *not* my idea of fun.  In my humble opinion, it's merely the winter from hell extended. I hope this is a passing interest, one he'll soon trade for...oh, I don't know...Jamaican bobsledding or something. Anything, really, as long as it's warm.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-8082077998594981952011-04-15T14:57:00.006-04:002011-04-15T15:01:14.133-04:00

www.cafepress.com/+breastfeed+bumper-stickers

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-75523140085114841602011-04-12T18:28:00.012-04:002011-05-15T18:05:39.089-04:00

I've been blog-tagged again...today it's a "four things" meme which solicits answers to questions in random, every-day-life sorts of categories.  I'm in an agreeable mood this afternoon, thus I'm playing along. Four articles of clothing I wore today: Long, straight hippie-patchwork skirtLong-sleeved cotton shirtMy favorite flats$&*%#@ bra Four movies I could watch over and over again: Steel

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-19335392509543896972011-04-11T21:19:00.002-04:002011-04-11T21:23:11.700-04:00

For the first time in many months, I finished work and walked outdoors to greet a sunny, warm, blue-sky afternoon.  I picked up the boy at school, drove home with the sunroof open, and spent the better part of a lazy hour lying barefoot on a blanket in the sun, incubating new freckles and even growing a tiny bit sunburned. Sigh. Sun, how I've missed you...there were days, even, when everything

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-43303944526279625322011-04-05T16:34:00.003-04:002011-04-05T17:26:04.636-04:00

They just...shine.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-22356268148945532862011-03-30T21:42:00.018-04:002011-09-01T17:43:23.730-04:00

After school today, my son and I had an errand which required us to drive twenty miles or so from our home along a major highway thoroughfare. Like hundreds of others, this particular route is dotted with strip malls, chain stores and shopping centers, with random restaurants and other businesses large and small tucked in every available space between. Because I detest traffic, with shopping a

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-77117356970760001542011-03-29T21:12:00.018-04:002011-05-15T18:09:11.270-04:00

Life seems very chaotic and hectic lately, and I'm struggling with finding a center, somehow unable to relax into a quiet space even as the day draws to a close. I'm certain it's because my mind is wandering in far too many directions, each one offering no answers, instead circling randomly in troubled, endless loops of pain.  I am inviting suffering, yet I am powerless to stop it, even as I grow

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-40351578104447454612011-03-13T14:55:00.007-04:002011-03-24T22:38:28.894-04:00

Today was my boy's first day home after a week at his father's house, and a celebratory Sunday dinner seemed in order. I was raised on all things Southern, and I've passed on the love of home-style cooking to my son...sometimes, I tease him and say that he went straight from the boobie (his word) to chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes with gravy, pinto beans and ham with a dash of Tabasco sauce,

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-21998053153326980922011-03-12T16:23:00.005-05:002011-03-12T19:00:11.727-05:00

It is a spectacular, sunny Saturday in my world. The past few weeks of work have been insane, truly exhausting, so for the first time in a very long time, I slept in. Around noon I wandered out to find coffee and a newspaper, then took a drive to a quaint old university town nearby for a long walk in the sunshine along the edge of a centuries-old canal.This afternoon, I washed the sheets from my

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-46994241835973085872011-03-04T20:21:00.003-05:002011-03-04T20:50:13.265-05:00

My precious little dog died this afternoon.She was always tiny, the runt of the litter. When I'd sit at my desk for hours doing homework, she would sleep on my feet. We spoiled her with people food. I made scrambled eggs for breakfast for both her and my son this morning.Over the past four days, she's been different, stumbling a little when I took her out to walk. I checked her paws for splinters

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-41379613061999081942011-02-22T16:34:00.010-05:002011-02-24T20:10:34.173-05:00

My girlfriend called this afternoon from her doctor's office. In the waiting room, she was reading a fitness magazine in which a survey was published claiming that 51% of American women would give up sex for a full year if in return they could be fashion-model skinny. My reply? Not just no, but *hell* no!It's in everyone's best interest, really.For on about day three sans orgasm, I'd start to get

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-60254118867422044292011-02-16T19:54:00.002-05:002011-02-17T17:40:46.068-05:00

It's been a brutal past thirty-six hours. I'm so tired I can't think. I desperately need to melt into a warm bath, then snuggle up with my man and feed him.My bed is far too big tonight.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-85880194856637335392011-02-13T18:09:00.005-05:002011-02-13T20:18:03.704-05:00

For the past weeks, I've been writing again, seeking solace in my keyboard as the emotions from another time rise quietly to the surface. The more I write, however, the more selfish I seem to become, crafting the beauty of what I once shared into paragraphs only to decide that they don't belong here; rather, I wish to keep the words, to keep him, only for myself. Tonight feels lost, like I'm

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-84297006930051624842011-02-06T23:28:00.004-05:002011-02-07T13:35:22.501-05:00

Spent a lazy evening lying on the sofa under my favorite soft blanket, watching the Super Bowl, accompanied by two noisy munchkins and the dog. All was well until I had to walk the guest half of the munchkins home in the cold.Brr.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-45853155605972708932011-02-04T14:04:00.008-05:002011-02-04T20:05:33.571-05:00

There is one relationship which I've never brought to this space, one precious, profound gift which forever changed my journey. It's time, I think, to share that piece of me...for myself, certainly, as it will be a step toward wholly healing...but for all of you, too, so that you may come to know yet another in the small community of souls who so deeply long for a nursing relationship.One day, in

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-75249207651093292952011-02-02T21:40:00.007-05:002011-02-02T23:07:18.896-05:00

I've been writing an awful lot lately, a happy consequence of an incredibly cold, bitter winter. I sit quietly at my kitchen table wrapped in my favorite soft blanket, a steaming mug of tea nearby, thankful beyond words for the warmth and safety which gently surround me within my little house as I look out upon the barren winter landscape. As of yet, all of my work has been composed in random

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-24539145585444117682011-01-27T08:09:00.005-05:002011-01-27T21:21:39.642-05:00

Yet another fourteen or so inches of snow fell in my world last night and my son has the day off from school, thus we're having a lazy, sleepy, hang-out-in-pajamas kind of morning. I thought the real world might wait at least until it warmed up a bit and the time came to pile on layers of clothes, head outdoors and shovel the driveway.I was mistaken.For when I sat down at the kitchen table this

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-83291468314187874152011-01-24T07:10:00.002-05:002011-01-24T07:12:36.190-05:00

At 7 a.m., it is -2 degrees at my house. I seriously need to rethink the place I call home.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-56867474359999267022011-01-17T19:32:00.014-05:002011-01-21T09:19:26.478-05:00

Yesterday, my dear friend and his wife lost their little boy, their only child, in a tragic automobile accident. Heartbroken for them, I sat this afternoon with pen in hand, trying to find some words, any words, which might possibly bring them comfort. I realized there are none.More than a year ago, on the afternoon of my father's funeral, I sat outdoors on the steps of the simple clapboard

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-35327139189098527332011-01-03T22:02:00.016-05:002011-09-23T02:27:11.288-04:00

A reader who has followed my blog nearly since its inception today wrote: So, weren't you supposed to do a blog post on breast milk sustenance? Is it possible for a woman to make enough (to provide for a partner's needs)? Would it provide all the nutrients? (From my research), there are twenty calories in every ounce of breast milk. If a typical adult male needs 2,000 to 2,500 calories per day

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-64783948100211284252010-12-31T18:18:00.004-05:002010-12-31T19:54:19.818-05:00

Happy New Year to all who visit here. In 2011, may we each travel further along the journey to the place we know to be home.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-72484777473707040592010-12-27T09:56:00.003-05:002010-12-27T16:25:12.871-05:00

The total snowfall in my part of the world as reported by the local news station is 23.7 inches, with drifts in my backyard four to five feet deep. Old Man Winter wasn't messing around last night, and this morning, he's still raging, with bitterly cold winds blowing snow in all directions.After a hearty breakfast, my boy and the teenager on the corner worked steadily to clear the driveway and the

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-78880173715013640662010-12-26T11:05:00.002-05:002010-12-26T17:09:52.504-05:00

...have begun drifting downward, blowing and swirling along their million random journeys before settling on the dry winter grass. My boy and I are snug in our little house, playing board games at the kitchen table, waiting and watching as the world outside our windows slowly is covered in white.And so the storm begins.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-51703792286021328402010-12-23T14:29:00.003-05:002010-12-23T14:53:50.710-05:00

One day before Christmas, and a chest x-ray confirms that I have pneumonia.(Note to Santa: Coal wasn't enough...?)

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-86496997653840356252010-12-22T17:39:00.009-05:002010-12-23T11:44:50.901-05:00

As I worked quietly in my small kitchen a few moments ago, I stopped to examine the life around me, making a conscious effort to breathe deeply, collect my scattered thoughts, and bring myself fully into the present, into this moment.A scented candle glows softly atop the shelf which holds my altar. My boy is snuggled and warm under a blanket on the sofa reading a new book. My favorite Carly

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-10058016016542572202010-12-19T16:38:00.003-05:002010-12-27T16:25:49.112-05:00

Home alone.101 degree fever, chills, sneezing, coughing, sore throat, and my head feels like it's going to explode. A hot shower didn't help.Not happy.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-57950633601196217082010-12-18T19:04:00.006-05:002010-12-19T15:18:46.759-05:00

It's Saturday evening, a dark, still, early-winter night. The moon is almost full, clear and pale in a cloudless, bitterly cold sky. My guests have gone, home again to their sunshiny world, and my son is with his father. It's the first time in nearly a month that my little house has been truly silent.And so I sit, with candles burning in the dark...struggling. I learned much about myself over the

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-80814515545092263402010-11-25T14:46:00.004-05:002010-12-27T16:19:35.994-05:00

As I sit quietly alone in my cozy yellow kitchen, my guests off to the cinema to see the new Harry Potter movie and homemade stuffing and sweet potatoes baking in the oven, it seems fitting that this morning brought the first wispy snowflakes of the season. This afternoon will hold good food and dear friends, music and football and laughter, and love.The holidays are here, and my heart is full.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-28051672216829214192010-11-19T15:50:00.007-05:002010-12-16T14:21:58.300-05:00

Tomorrow, my household will grow by three people. My dearest friend is arriving from far, far away with children in tow, a boy and a girl who are both a bit older than my son. In the coming three weeks, we'll turn New York upside down...with plans to see two shows on Broadway and the Christmas Spectacular at Radio City Music Hall, and visits to Rockefeller Plaza for the fabulous Christmas tree

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-36460643108832150892010-11-17T06:10:00.002-05:002010-11-17T18:56:22.897-05:00

There's nothing quite like being awakened at 5:45 a.m. by the sound of the giant recycling collection truck rumbling onto the street, followed closely by the realization that one forgot to carry the recycling bins to the curb...followed closely by a mad dash to do so in pajamas (namely flannel bottoms and a rather skimpy camisole top) and the sudden, sinking certainty that Mr. Trash Man got a

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-66428610285779475652010-11-14T13:17:00.020-05:002010-11-15T13:01:13.222-05:00

After my post earlier this week on the emotional challenges inherent within a committed, long-term adult nursing relationship, and the resulting need for constant, honest, open and loving communication between a nursing couple, my thoughts these past few days have turned inward, to the place ANR occupies within me. This was in part a response to a note I received from a reader in the Rocky

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-69790678549391445202010-11-13T06:09:00.001-05:002010-11-13T07:30:22.860-05:00

Wearing long johns under my work scrubs this morning.South Pacific, anyone?

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-26180758427734267152010-11-11T13:48:00.008-05:002010-11-11T15:47:22.439-05:00

A woman in Canada sent a very sweet, short note via my blog this morning. Though it appears she found me after quite a long time searching for writings about ANR, she has discovered more of a connection, I think, in our shared motherhood. She, too, has one child, a boy, and while he is much younger than my son, pre-school age, there are threads of our two journeys which are similar, and this

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-55740395234976790622010-11-10T12:33:00.003-05:002010-11-10T12:45:31.750-05:00

Q: How do you know when you've satisfied a redhead?A: She unties you.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-46637457635205222652010-11-09T10:17:00.008-05:002010-11-10T08:12:30.446-05:00

There is one question I receive time and again in this forum from those who have never experienced a nursing relationship, and, while the words vary a bit according to personal history and comfort level, they all are ultimately formed around the need to understand how the very intimate interdependence created by sharing her breasts comes to exist naturally within a rhythm of days. The truth is,

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-77186834677894131332010-11-08T10:21:00.008-05:002010-11-09T15:08:03.183-05:00

Over the weekend, I stumbled upon these words in an ANR forum, written by a man who it seems is only beginning to discover the ways the desire to share a breastfeeding relationship manifests itself within him:"Clearly, I am driven to the female breast, for reasons I think I still do not understand. It is beyond simple sexual drive; perhaps evidence of something that I did not receive as a child,

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-27757838010935289922010-11-08T03:13:00.002-05:002010-11-08T07:20:35.810-05:00

It's 3:00 a.m. on the first well-below-freezing night of autumn. My boy is with his father. The basement furnace keeps the house toasty warm, but this night, I still feel chilled. My bed is too big. In all the years I've slept alone, I've collected pillows, up to eight or ten now, which I arrange on either side of me so that instead of a vast expanse of empty space in the bed, there is none at

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-44737451477715579772010-11-02T07:00:00.003-04:002010-11-02T11:11:26.868-04:00

My friend HisMilkmaid has posted a beautiful piece this morning at her Woman-Essence site, www.hismilkmaid.com.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-1229228336609117462010-11-01T13:54:00.005-04:002010-11-02T11:14:46.322-04:00

My last post about the quirky little Mexican restaurant in Joshua Tree has quite suddenly turned to inspiration, so for supper, the munchkin is getting seared skirt steak marinated in lime juice and cumin, homemade guacamole and hand-rolled white corn tortillas. No tequila.

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-7989806983539364472010-10-31T21:17:00.010-04:002011-01-21T21:16:58.207-05:00

Today I exchanged brief pleasantries with a friend who is visiting Joshua Tree, California, for the week...what memories that conversation brought back!There's a little Mexican restaurant there...or, as I told him, maybe the word restaurant is a bit too generous...it's probably better described as a dive little hole-in-the-wall joint with a bad paint job, but in my memory they had the best tacos

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-28513214189356581292010-10-31T07:22:00.003-04:002010-10-31T15:59:58.423-04:00

Halloween has dawned crisp, clear and cold in my world, with windblown piles of crunchy, autumn-colored fallen leaves lining the edges of my quiet street and making for proper Halloween shuffling from home to home as the children beg for candy. My son's costume is ready and waiting, purchased a size too large so he can wear warm clothes underneath.I've been forbidden this year from walking with

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-69361555010172254532010-10-25T14:49:00.006-04:002010-10-27T21:13:12.806-04:00

As the days grow shorter and the nights colder, I become more of a homebody than I've been in the previous months of the year, a turning inward of sorts created partly by my nature and partly by the rhythm of the school year having begun anew. There is now a quiet space in each afternoon dedicated to my son's homework and study, and an earlier bedtime than either of us enjoyed in the long days of

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-66487507223544268372010-10-22T17:28:00.006-04:002010-10-22T20:14:12.616-04:00

About a half-hour ago, my boy came bounding in the front door requesting a cup of vinegar and a box of baking soda. About ten minutes later, he asked for a plastic juice bottle with a lid and some baking powder. A short few minutes after that, I caught him trying to sneak past me from the basement carrying a paper bag which contained a hammer, a screwdriver, batteries, a tape measure, pliers, a

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-38281682645276601012010-10-18T17:17:00.012-04:002010-10-19T06:26:18.920-04:00

Sometimes I think about the ways that my longing to share a nursing relationship speaks to the woman I've become, and today, I recognize this: there are some in this world who were born to create breathtaking musical masterpieces or make brilliant scientific discoveries, others who dedicate their lives to teaching or easing poverty or defending the law or making a difference in a hundred other

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My two kitchen windows face the east, thus I am greeted by the sunrise almost every morning. In the summer, however, the sun cannot shine directly into those windows because of the pair of giant oak trees just outside, whose lush summer foliage acts as partial shade. Now that autumn has arrived, and the old oak trees have begun to lose their leaves, I wake to a sunny, bright kitchen, splashed

mayfieldflowerrnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18283928705700664548noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133860651759327436.post-7647319834605404862010-10-16T09:45:00.007-04:002010-10-25T15:48:11.947-04:00

In every one of my relationships, I was the enthusiastic one when it came to those regular morning romps in the sack. I simply found it impossible to force myself to get out of bed and leave behind a perfectly useful erection. Now I discover that the whole morning wood thing is nothing more than his body's attempt at "regular maintenance." Still, it's true...I always thought it was me.http://

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The Nobel Prize Committee announced today a shared award for economics, naming two Americans and a British-Cypriot. The three worked together to form a tool called the Diamond-Mortensen-Pissarides model, which estimates how unemployment benefits, interest rates, the efficiency of employment agencies and other factors affect labor markets. One of the Americans, Peter Diamond, is an economist at

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