It’s a misty morning here in NYC.
That and the silence of the relatively empty city
make for strange bedfellows
A surreal and beautiful moment
I am really going to miss the silence
Definition 1 of Unicorn related to the BDSM Lifestyle:
There’s a term nearly everybody in the Swinger world, the BDSM world, and the Polyamorous world is familiar with, summarized in one neat, pretty, sparkly mental image of one word: Unicorn. On the surface it’s a simple term, relating to the mythical creature of lore that is rumored to exist but is nearly impossible to find. Furthermore, once found, it’s nearly impossible to keep, for, after all, nobody can really own a unicorn. (credit absinthepassion.wordpress.com )
Colloquial; Synonym for hot or Bi babe or HBB, often derogatory, condescending, or ironic. A bisexual person usually though not always female, who is willing to join an existing couple, often with the presumption that this person will date and become sexually involved with both members of that couple, and not demand anything or do anything which might cause problems or inconvenience to that couple.
The term is often used to be dismissive of a couple seen to be only superficially polyamorous. Because of the demands that this type of couple places on the woman (that she be single and not take on any additional partners, and become involved with both members of the couple equally, and often “complete” their family as a surrogate mother and housekeeper and/or breadwinner and not do anything that may threaten or disrupt the existing couple), many in the poly community call this type of woman a ‘Unicorn’, as in mythical and not likely to be found, even though there are plenty of bi-poly women around.
Sometimes the unicorn is expected to not develop any emotional attachment and is strictly there for a sexual relationship (equally distributed to both members of the dyad) and/or is prescripted as a secondary. This term is used as a reminder that bi-poly women are people with their own desires, needs, and pre-existing lives, and not fantasy figures or pets.
(credit Urban dictionary.com).
If you are looking for a Unicorn buying this Pouch might be a great deal easier.
And it is a lovely item for the Little in your life. XO
Opening Ceremony UNDERCOVER Unicorn Pouch
Printed leather front
White leather back
Zip back closure
On sale for $60 with further discounts available
Opening Ceremony is closing their stores and temporarily closing their website. The sale is quite good.
Actually, the rental car is new and running very well.
Travel across was very easy.
Packing food was a good idea and I’d like to give a “shout” out to Ohio for the best rest stops.
Clean, spacious — amazing.
BTW – gasoline prices ranged from $1.99 to $1.15 per gallon – east to west.
Something interesting to note – the further away from NYC, the more lax people are about COVID-19.
Yes, it makes sense when your area has 180 deaths versus the 13,168 in NYC.
But seeing 65+-year-olds without masks and gloves in a Wal-Mart really stressed me out.
BTW – it was confirmed post-mortem that Dad’s death was not COVID-19.
Why do the test?
So, the Hospice nurses who neglected Dad would come back for Mom’s appointments.
still salty bout that
As for my Mom?
My Mom has blown through the stages of Grief and is getting ready to blow through them, again.
She is eating and sleeping well, for me at least.
Yesterday would have been Mom and Dad’s 66th Wedding Anniversary.
OK – as you read this, I am back in the car – starting Day 2 of the return trip.
The Census-Taker ~ Robert Frost
I came an errand one cloud-blowing evening
To a slab-built, black-paper-covered house
Of one room and one window and one door,
The only dwelling in a waste cutover
A hundred square miles round it in the mountains:
And that not dwelt in now by men or women.
(It never had been dwelt in, though, by women,
So what is this I make a sorrow of?)
I came as census-taker to the waste
To count the people in it and found none,
None in the hundred miles, none in the house,
Where I came last with some hope, but not much,
After hours’ overlooking from the cliffs
An emptiness flayed to the very stone.
I found no people that dared show themselves,
None not in hiding from the outward eye.
The time was autumn, but how anyone
Could tell the time of year when every tree
That could have dropped a leaf was down itself
And nothing but the stump of it was left
Now bringing out its rings in sugar of pitch;
And every tree up stood a rotting trunk
Without a single leaf to spend on autumn,
Or branch to whistle after what was spent.
Perhaps the wind the more without the help
Of breathing trees said something of the time
Of year or day the way it swung a door
Forever off the latch, as if rude men
Passed in and slammed it shut each one behind him
For the next one to open for himself.
I counted nine I had no right to count
(But this was dreamy unofficial counting)
Before I made the tenth across the threshold.
Where was my supper? Where was anyone’s?
No lamp was lit. Nothing was on the table.
The stove was cold—the stove was off the chimney—
And down by one side where it lacked a leg.
The people that had loudly passed the door
Were people to the ear but not the eye.
They were not on the table with their elbows.
They were not sleeping in the shelves of bunks.
I saw no men there and no bones of men there.
I armed myself against such bones as might be
With the pitch-blackened stub of an ax-handle
I picked up off the straw-dust covered floor.
Not bones, but the ill-fitted window rattled.
The door was still because I held it shut
While I thought what to do that could be done—
About the house—about the people not there.
This house in one year fallen to decay
Filled me with no less sorrow than the houses
Fallen to ruin in ten thousand years
Where Asia wedges Africa from Europe.
Nothing was left to do that I could see
Unless to find that there was no one there
And declare to the cliffs too far for echo,
“The place is desert, and let whoso lurks
In silence, if in this he is aggrieved,
Break silence now or be forever silent.
Let him say why it should not be declared so.”
The melancholy of having to count souls
Where they grow fewer and fewer every year
Is extreme where they shrink to none at all.
It must be I want life to go on living.
dievca spent the day calling Midwestern small town ACE hardware stores and Farm/Fleet stores, she contacted both her Alma Maters Nursing and Biology programs, work maintenance group and friends. Searching for masks.
Not the ones people are so generously sewing. The heavier duty ones that can be used for a swamped ER in a local hospital. A personal friend who runs the ER has severe asthma – reusing a mask is unsafe.
Everyone dievca called/emailed were very kind in replying and searching their facilities or stores. The Nursing departments and Biology departments already donated. Work needed their masks. The ACE hardware stores were out but took their time to look properly. Farm/Fleet came through with a small amount. Better than nothing and dievca had the time to search. she’s still trying to figure out how to get in touch with the closed NYC nail salons.
dievca was doing this for a specific individual and could have them shipped directly.
But, if you have some spare masks or other supplies and are willing to share, here are suggestions where to share the items safely: https://thecity.nyc/2020/03/how-can-i-donate-supplies-to-new-york-hospitals-in-need.html
dievca spoke to her Mother and Father, yesterday.
That makes today Monday, right?
Days are blurring.
And the City echoes in its Silence
Photos: dievca Hudson Yards 'the vessel' 5pm on a Friday 03/2020