I live in the lap of luxury. No kidding, I do. Started about six years ago when the first man I chose (versus who chose me) decided that he didn’t want my love. When I plunged into the murky dank dungeons of despair. During that time of morose self torture, I did two things that changed my life forever and that helped me pull myself back up by my bootstraps.

Firstly, I bought a hammock. Two, actually, blue and green striped, woven in Guatemala. Strung them to the three maple trees out back where I proceeded to live. I took my morning tea there with the chirping birds and early sunshine. I worked there with my Mini conducting international webcam conference calls even, much to the envy of my Team many of whom were still office bound. I read there for days on end, leaf shadows dancing on the exposed skin of the leg I stretched over the edge to loll my toes in the dew drenched grass. With a single toe, I’d gentle rock myself as the heavy summer air wafted, lifting the loose strands of my hair along the side of my face. I took my evening meal there sitting up cross legged watching a host of Lady Bugs land on my fork. And, as the sun set beyond the fields of soybeans, I slept beneath the Milkyway with the dog curled up at my feet until the sullen skunk scurried out from behind the shed and he leapt after it setting me in my cotton cocoon to rocking under the moon.

I now go nowhere without a hammock. I keep one in the car. I hike with one. I even found one to fit in my purse. I'm admittedly a hammock addict and there isn't a step program that can cure me.

The second thing I did was buy the warmest sheets invented. I run cold and without him to warm me, I spent entire nights shivering no matter how many layers I slipped beneath the comforters with. I started with a fleece set and was so excited by how warm they were at first touch, unlike flannel that requires body heat to warm up. They were ultra soft against the skin which made up for a lot; (I sleep commando—blame it on me mum). But, I managed to find softer still—heavenly chenille.

Now, every corner of my bed—top and bottom—is silky soft warmest from the moment I slip beneath the covers. A delight that’s indescribable, especially to the must sleep clothed crowd. I sleep smiling caressed by the fuzzy fibers. Stretched sideways across the bed I assume ownership of my domain. Sheets are strewn, pillows tossed onto the floor as I roll throughout the night. Oh yes. Me and my bed head never felt so damn good.

Took me longer than I care to admit to climb up and out of that misery pit, but with the aid of a few select items of simplicity, I managed to not only do so but to find the pleasure in me, the joy in me. A vital awakening as, like many women, I had only previously sought it in and through others.

I have always been a simple lass, easily pleased. Not much complicated about me. Give me a sunset in a hammock wrapped in chenille and I’m living in the lap of luxury. Toss in a wee bit of Knob Creek, an intriguing lengthy tale, a set of long arms wrapped around me and full lips nibbling at my ear and I’ve done gone to heaven.

Heaven’s good.


nan shartel Dec. 31, 2011 @ 12:20 p.m.

i bought polar fleece sheets and blankets this year...now i know what babies in a crib feel like

i likie!!!

hammocks aint bad either


quillpena Jan. 1, 2012 @ 2:50 p.m.

I'm glad I'm a guy. Things are far less complicated for us after a breakup--we just get drunk for a few weeks.


Ruth Newell Jan. 1, 2012 @ 3:53 p.m.

I always marveled at those with "switches", you know what I mean?


Ruth Newell Feb. 20, 2012 @ 6:57 p.m.

QP--I JUST heard a guy retelling a story of his having done just this after his last divorce! Don't know that dodging qualifies as less complicated or less drama-infused but I suppose it beats the months (years?) of uncontrolled morning. Maybe.


bohemianopus Jan. 1, 2012 @ 4:31 p.m.

I love this! My mind conjured each image from grief to acceptance to comfort. Nice!


fad444 Jan. 1, 2012 @ 11:05 p.m.

Time helps to heal, yet the human touch has a way of easing the pain. quiet time and nature are elements that bring you peace. It can also be lonely if not shared with another human that enjoys the same things. Good luck and keep writing these interesting articles.


Ruth Newell Jan. 6, 2012 @ 3:19 p.m.

Thanks, will do. Now that I've given myself permission to write, I can't seem to stop.


Ruth Newell Jan. 21, 2012 @ 11:46 a.m.

Didn't mean to dodge your comment; I am in a position currently where it is difficult for me to speak intelligibly about the topics you broach. I can say though that I have known loneliness in many forms over the course of my life. I have even been lonely while in the company of others. On the flip side, I've felt completely blissed and at one while alone. As those who know me would expect, I have some thoughts on loneliness most of which need not be shared here. I also comprehend the importance of touch to some of us, of presence, of the sharing and mixing of energies, of consciousness. I think, I think (and I can hear all the jokes on that one from here) I'm in a monastic ...'space' at present--for better or worse--transitioning into --I dunno...new perceptions of it all. Feels fine. Good really. Just different and truly ridiculous to try and explain. Suffice it to say that I 'hear ya' and really do appreciate you sharing your thoughts with me, and your taking the time to bother reading my writing, Fad. Thank you. :)


Twister Feb. 21, 2012 @ 7:06 a.m.

Sex has its pitfalls. Real love doesn't.


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