Weekend and more....update

West Indies lost the Test:(

On Saturday I awoke with a very lazy spirit and the remnants of the headache the day before...it wasn't a good day. I twiddled my thumbs at home for as long as I could, but set about hitting the road to avoid yielding to my impure thoughts and temptation of the flesh....where was I going, who knows, I just needed air. On the 'driveout' I decided to hit Portmore to see if my God-daughter would oblige me with a smile and a hug...she didn't hug me but she smiled and it warmed my heart:)

Remembering my longing for fish and bammy on Thursday, we decided at 4ish to head to Hellshire for a dip....it was one of the most refreshing trips I had ever had. The white sand, salt water and energy of J'cans at leisure was just what my mind and soul needed to replenish itself.

There was little temptation on the beach, not too many hard bodies around (Thank God). We dipped and chatted and played with little miss until our bodies were saturated and then we played some more. The beach was much too populated so we opted to stay in the water until we were signalled for our meal. The fish, as usual, was fried just right, the bammy too and the pickle sauce, hot, spicy and ...mmm...mmm...good.

Sunday was spent fighting the usual demons but I was fortified by my church service in the morning...one of these days I hope to be as happy as the people in church, you know, those really grounded and rooted in God's word and love...its a happiness that I envy, but I know one day it will be mine.

On Monday I decided to be the early worm, cause the phone simply rings too much when work is in full swing for you to really get significant work done. I got in at 7 a.m. and completed a task I started late Friday, e-mailed it, and decided it was time for a little tea break (balance is critical in life). I settled into checking e-mails and the perfect opportunity for my hug and kiss on the forehead walked in....Thankfully work intervened but the thought danced whimsically through my mind.... I didn't want to send the wrong signals, cause I think we're back to a good enough working relationship, but he was right there, well sahven and looking pretty tasty....I weighed the options and figured I was mature enough to leave beg the hug and peck, without complicating issues....I'm a lover at heart, a sexula, sensual being and these weeks without a tender touch from a man were wreaking havoc on my sensitive spirit. I gave in to the vibe, and spent last night repenting cause I liked it... Sigh.

I'm still horny and dreaming of sweaty bodies moving to an innate pulsating rhythm, a man's tongue tasting, licking, lashing every contour of my body, breaking only to hear me beg for more..... but not as much anymore. One of these days I'll learn control.

Blah feeling

My head is still splitting in two....I think I would be open to a hug and squeeze and a kiss on the forehead right now.....I promise not to rape the man who delivers it....really I do.

Reflection

I woke this morning with a headache and the usual longing below to be ravaged by Mr. feel Good (whoever he may be). I have sent up prayers to the Lord for a good, well built husband, who worships God and me only, cause mi nuh tink mi a guh mek it pon dis journey without one.

I've been wound up of late so yesterday, though seeds of a trip to Hellshire to have some fried fish and bammy, were planted in my mind, I opted for an early evening at home....alone. I took an hour to chillax from the day and listened to some inspirational tunes on Love 101 while sending up some praises to the father for my safe journey through Mountain View on the way home and in general, requesting a blessing on the life of each of my family members. Afterwards I was still a little tight physically, and chanced that my body would survive an intense workout to remove the excess energy and the other kinks, while battling hwat I hoped was not H1N1.

Stretching and straining, building muscle and thinking too much, I powered through an hour and was exhausted enough I thought for sleep. I was wrong. I couldn't seem to depart from my thoughts unholy.... I want sex...I know I can't have it, but damn, I want me some.

As I stared up at the beautiful sky, draped in the remaining soft yellow glow of the sunset, the irony was not lost on me as I took spoon after spoon of couch soup under the ackee tree (for what purpose would I use the added energy????). My dilemma notwithstanding, I settled my mind through prayer and nature and all was quasi right with the world.

Serious T'ing

An issue has been on my mind of late, and I feel its about time I deal with the matter frontally.

Chris Gayle, Ramnaresh Sarwan and Chanderpaul can kiss my West Indian fluffy ass. What the heck. They barely scraped through the England and Indian series mounting scores that sunlight cup school boys could surpass and now they have the nerve to be complaining about lack of payment...for what????

Like every Caribbean being, the sport of cricket is not just a game, its life blood. Nothing compares to the roar of the crowd when a strong batsman at the top of his game takes his crease, the stand off between bowler and batsman, the threatening gazes when he is hit for four or six, these images, this sport, is the glue that binds us together as a Region.

Cricket when played well can be the only thing that matters on a Saturday or Sunday. In fact I remember missing some of sixth form because Cricket was on. The Mighty Viv Richards was at the helm at the time and a rich pool of talent in Richie Richardson, Courtney Walsh, Brian Lara, Curtly Ambrose, Keith Atherton, Kenny Benjamin, Malcolm Marshall , Jeffrey DuJon, Carl Hooper, the icons of Desmond Hanes and Gordon Greenidge (the list is endless) played backup to his mastery. I have led many a friend to the pleasures of Cricket, and as I grew I looked forward to chilling at home with friends, a bottle of red wine, cold beer in the fridge and a pot of curry chicken with dumpling and bananas bubbling on the stove top. Endless analysis was offered but nothing compared to the togetherness we felt.

No doubt then, I have been a fan of West Indies Cricket for many moons. To see my team held to ransom by players who on a given day could not guarantee even a run before getting out, unceasingly inconsistent top dogs, because of money, I am angered and disappointed. Particularly Chris Gayle continues to be a mercenary player who seemingly only performs if the price is right, and even then he fails more often than not. Who are they to demand money from the WICB, they have not earned their pay for many a match now...how about instituting a dollar per run system, maybe then we could get a decent total out of the lot.

Frig the stars, lets pull some youths from the regional cup tournament or our local curry goat cricket squad, they surely would do no worse than these demi-gods we pander to at every step. I'm cheering for Bangladesh next series...Frig them all.........Now them mek mi sin, mi haffi guh pray 'bout it, but I had to get it out.

Down but not Out

As much as I tried the other day to stick to the staright an narrow, I yielded to temptation...in a way. I weighed the evils in my mind and engaged in the lesser...I called Mr. ATL. He was a deacon at a point in his life so he was no stranger to my confused ramblings....he was a bredren, he let me vent, he understood that he was chosen because he could not reach across water to touch. He dusted off the usual words of comfort he would offer in counsel to Church sisters in times gone and was a comfort to me.

We had extensive dialogue on subjects pure (that was my only stipulation) and I felt heartened that he was not upset with me for watching his number light up my phone repeatedly without answering 2 months prior. He understood that I was no longer available. As time dragged on and we updated each other on each other's lives, I asked if he had replaced me yet.... My ears were not prepared for the "almost" which was the answer. My ego was shot initially but I understood in the end.

I was a little guilty for my thoughts and whispered a word of prayer for forgiveness. How sweet bredrens can be when they remain just that.