I doubt there is any woman who cannot recall being mistreated or pressured sexually at some point. Before marriage. In marriage. After marriage. Seems like a lot of women are now feeling safe,  even compelled, to talk about it.

I can relate a couple of such occasions in my life, so I will.  But I really don’t know that it serves any purpose.

In 7th grade, Larry Don Stuart, who was in 9th grade,  felt me up. Just quickly while standing next to me in a very crowded place.  I told my mother.  She told my father.  His response was to just let it go. That boys that age just were just curious.  All righty then.  Because not a big deal was made of it, I pretty much forgot about it until recently.  I have no idea what a more appropriate response from my father should have been. Now, I sort of wish I had slugged Larry Don, but then, I was just horrified and embarrassed.

Later, in high school, we went out for a while.  He always treated me with utmost respect and we had a lot of fun.  I mostly like to remember that.

In college, I went out several times with a BMOC.  I didn’t really like him, but he was a BMOC.  He kept pressuring me to have sex with him.  He said I could just try it once and if I didn’t like it, we wouldn’t do it again.  Really!? It never occurred to me that there was anything abusive about this. It just made me very uncomfortable and embarrassed.  It was what it was and I survived pure as the driven snow, more or less.  He ended up impregnating a girl from his hometown and she became his first wife.  He became a United States Congressman.

Dear, sweet  Jack had to be put down yesterday.  It was time.

He spent a lot of time here at 1880 with Roxie and me whenever his family, Kay and John had a chance to get out of town.  Kay texted me to come over to say goodbye.

Here are some pictures from some of his visits here:

I’m just tired of hearing about it: the sexual orientations of elected officials; the vile behavior of politicians and entertainers.

I grant you, my personal experiences make me somewhat limited in my opinions.  Nevertheless, I think sex works best if it is for pleasure, affection, and families.  It should not be used to touch people who don’t want you to touch them or people who are too young to make this choice. Not because you are bored or drunk or high or in a position of power.

A possibly too-simple cause of vile and violent sexual behaviors may be too much testosterone. But what do I know?

One thing that continues to puzzle me is why some men want to display their genitalia to women.  Once, as I was paddling down the middle of the river, a man on the bank did this.  I pretended not to see him — any part of him — but I really wanted to pull out and ask him what his mother would think of his behavior and how would he like it if someone did this to his grandmother, whose age group I was certainly in.  But whenever you can, it’s generally best not to encourage folks by giving them attention for naughty behavior. I learned this teaching adolescents.

But naughty is not the same as vile or violent.  Sadly, we must focus attention on ridding our society of  these crimes.

How I wish sex could be about snuggling in by people who care about each other — or  at least who know each other’s names!

About ten days ago, my blog was hacked.  “They” shut it down and I hired a Mac guy to come over and sort me out.

It was an interesting ten days.  It was a bit freeing not to be able to post, but it was heartbreaking to think that all my previous posts — my personal journal for the past five years —  was no longer accessible to me.  It’s all good now, thanks to my new BFF, Salem Mac Guy Brant. Near or far, if you need an Apple Boy, Brant can do it through the magic of remote access.  Because I wanted some on-site hand-holding, he came over to my kitchen table late one night and did, indeed, sort me out.

And during the “radio silence interim,” fall arrived.  My favorite season.  September aways seem more like the New Year to me that January 1 does.

Had the best fall paddle ever up on Trillium Lake below the south face of Mount Hood last week.  Dave managed to batten down all three kayaks on his Suburban so we could all go in one car which is so much more fun — especially that Dave and I have now taken to wearing our hearing aids in the car so we can actually hear each other.! It was Roxanne’s first outing with us.  We are a great threesome.

We were having so much fun following the exciting Clackamas on the on the drive up that we missed our turn off.  It was definitely worth it though to see the Clackamas showing off after the first big rain.  It was incredibly windy there, so we weren’t sure what we would find on the lake.

Trillium was perfection, still, warm, and sunny.   

Back in our beautiful valley, the trees were doing amazing things.

No one in the neighborhood can remember what kind of tree this is. It’s not in any of my books.

There’s a prize if you can name it.

Earlier, I had gotten a couple of gnarly pumpkins for the porch from our favorite farm stand at Green’s Bridge.

Found some things around the house and garden to assemble this for the front hall.

Some of my neighbors go all out.

We just put a jack-o-lantern in the window and Roxie wore a seasonal bandanna to welcome the trick-or-treaters.  Lots of great costumes.  

And now it is November.

It amazes me that I can still pick a handful of ripe, red raspberries out back most days.