at home with ann

Archive for October 2006

If you were an open book
Your heart and soul I’d see
I would recognize with one look
Your thoughts and all your needs
And with every page I turn
And with every word I read
I would feel the way you feel
Your love, your hopes, your dreams
And I would dip into your book
To learn and to explore
To appreciate the man you are
To understand you more


You are not an open book
And your prose is closed to me
This is no true love story
For you will always be
Inscrutable, unreadable
An eternal mystery

copyright 2006 ann raven

Okay boys and girls and fellow vdo vixens and loci lovers… there has been something preying on my mind for a while. After watching this evening’s epi “Dr Dwyer likes a strong daddy” just now, it made me wonder what the hell would a detective, or more particularly Detective Bobby Goren find should he get a search warrant for my place….. oy vey!

(Poetic licence has been exercised so please don’t believe every word)

Have you noticed that when the Detectives go through “whoever’s” paperwork, it is all so neat and tidy and to hand? Their photographs in albums, not thrown in a picnic hamper. Everything in its proper place… yeah, just like mine… not! Clothes hanging neatly… my goodness I’ve got so many clothes, maybe the Detective will find a brown top I’ve mislaid these past two months. Laundry day comprises of three towels. What???

Now I pride myself at work, I am good, but then I’m paid to be good.

BUT at home, forget it. My paperwork is all over the place…. I haven’t done filing in months and some things I haven’t looked at this year and I don’t even open my post. If Goren wants to tidy up for me, I’d love it.

No doubt he’ll want to check my accounts. He’d have to go on line and I couldn’t tell him my IB number, I just do it by touch. So while he’s sitting at my computer I would have to lean over him, right over him to tinkle the keys. “Detective let me do that.” Oh dear I almost ended up on his lap.

Uh oh, he’s found something else on the computer and it’s not my shopping list. The raised eyebrow and the puzzled look as he reads my emails. “Who’s ????? and you do what online?” and he’s found my Amazon wishlist. I redden. Now he’s going through my history and I’m squirming as he goggles at my googles. Wait, he’s found my blogs and as I step away he’s touching my hand (swoon) to bring me back to his side.

“What is this?” I wriggle as he reads the stories I don’t post!

“What is that?” I wriggle some more as he reads the poems I don’t post!

He asks what I did last week… I don’t remember what I did half-an-hour ago. Well I do, but I’m not telling him, although he’s sniffing and leaning very close to me.

Then, in his inimitable way he has moved to my book and cd and dvd collections? He slowly pulls one then another off the shelf. He looks at the well leafed pages and I breathe a sigh of relief that not all my literature is here.

“Who’s Vincent D’Onofrio?” he asks. “He’s, he’s a person of interest,” I splutter. Another strange glance my way as he picks up Naked Tango and Tales of Erotica II and sees a pile of the man’s photos. I hasten to add there is still not a signed one.. sniff… sniff!!!

I am wondering what profile he’s forming of me. He investigates my drinks cabinet and I offer him a Grey Goose.

Then he gets to my bedroom and bathroom…. hmmm. He’s found something. He gives me the look. He’s rummaging through my drawers…. ooooh! He lifts up a pair of little black lace panties with pink ribbons between his long long fingers in his left hand and the matching plunge bra with the right hand and hiding beneath… Entertaining Mr Stone and others of that genre. He’s found my alternative bedtime reading.

He’s looking raptly in there too… I am shifting uncomfortably as he reads out loud my favourite chapter, the one with the well worn pages and gives me a knowing look.

Now he’s wondering about the collection of spare batteries he’s found in my shoe closet and finds where they would fig… sorry fit, when he looks in my hat boxes and he’s come across a matching pair of handcuffs… just like his and a toy gun. Another funny look!

I leave him sniffing around the bathroom, when he tilts his head round the door and casually says, “Do you like chocolate?” I answer in the affirmative and he holds out a jar of chocolate body paint and waves two paintbrushes beneath my nose.

I watch him wince as he applies a dab of lotion to his wrist… he should’ve asked first.

Detective Goren,” I nervously ask, “Have you found what you’re looking for?” He gives me an irritated look that clearly indicates he’s found plenty that he wasn’t looking for but not the one thing he is looking for. “If you tell me what you are looking for, maybe I could help.”

He pulls out the warrant again and points to an item clearly marked and tells me to just hand it to him before they really turn the place over. I study the warrant. I start to laugh.

“Detective Goren,” I chuckle, “I would if I could, but I can’t.”

He pulls out his cuffs, waves them before my nose, and tells me I’m not making this easy for myself. I am giggling. He isn’t. My chance to spend time with Goren in his interrogation room, my absolute dream but…. I have to tell the truth.

“Detective Goren, why don’t you try the people next door.”

He cannot apologise enough and asks what he can do…. I hand him my copy of EMS.

Wednesday evening went off well, but I am exhausted. It was a late night, but the meal was scrumptious and the company good. We watched a dvd of a friend’s wedding and Jamie and Lucy said that’s what they want, overlooking the sea as the sun comes down… magical.

Must see if there’s any piggy boxes hidden anywhere and go down the back of the couch.

I worked yesterday and babysat for my friends with the twins and I am just finishing the cleaning. I thought tonight would be a quiet Shabbat, just the daughter and me, but oh no, daughter has invited some friends for dinner (you don’t mind do you?) and the b/f is staying over the weekend, so cleaned her bedroom and bathroom too.

We’re trying to organise an engagement party (well a l’chaim for those in the know) very soon and we think the wedding will be in Israel next summer… very very very hot oy… and we shall need the services of a wedding planner (doesn’t that sound posh) but trust me a wedding in Israel is a fraction of the cost of a wedding in London, oy, yoy, yoy!

If I get another call from my dearest son with more bright ideas I will scream and you will hear it. It will be the scream I usually reserve for entering the daughter’s room. And another thing I’m doing this weekend; planning a trip to Israel for Chanukah with mother. She has never met Moriah and I’m missing those babies so much. (Thinks to self… must get a second job maybe on a secluded tropical island where clothes are not a requirement…. imagine how much I could save)!

I am sorry I have not visited all of you lately and I promise I shall try and visit you all over the weekend and play catch up. I want to hear your news, see cheeky vdo pics and read your amazing stories and poetry.

To prove how busy I have been I’ve only managed to watch a very little bit of Bobby… mmm that’s not right, there’s nothing very little about Bobby Goren.

Wishing you all a wonderful restful weekend and Shabbat Shalom

Thank You

Posted on: 26 October 2006

Slowly slowly lifts the mist that swathed her life
A cloak of darkness shrouding the light
A make believe game, a charade for living
Obscured in a fog heavy clouds filling
Her thoughts blurred, faint, vague
As drip drip drip her life force bled away

Miracle cracks the shell of her veiled screen
Warmth embraces her soul through an opening
Radiance shines a beam of light
Uplifts her spirit and removes the night
Her battered shadows scattered in the wind
Clarity and lucidity a longed for friend

Inner-self calmed by a luminous presence
Resplendent in its glory comforts her essence
Fears flung faraway, she sheds suppression
Her buried voice swells in waves of expression
Of gratitude for the touch of her angel, the love of a man
Who restored her to life with his healing hand

Thank you my friend

copyright 2006 ann raven


Posted on: 25 October 2006

Escort required for mother of the groom. Vincent D’Onofrio need not apply… he blew it! Must scrub up well, be light on feet, have impeccable table manners and no dirty habits…

hmmm… maybe Vincent does still stand a chance. If he takes pity on me and fancies an all expenses paid holiday in Israel in the summer, but we may have to share a room… I’m sick of paying the dreaded single supplement


erm… maybe not! LOL


Tonight is ‘Meet the Parents’ night… well Lucy knows me and Jamie knows them, but we don’t know each other and guess who invited them to dinner, with real food Jill? The kitchen smells wonderful, but I’ve still got loads to do and they’ll be here in about three hours.

Can I lose 10 lbs in three hours?

I’ve asked if the mother of the bride is younger (yes she is) thinner (yes she is although Jamie diplomatically said we’re shaped differently) and prettier than me (well my children know where their bread’s buttered and I’ve brought them up so well, they say we both are… hmmm).

Will report back with more, but I will not be discussing the financial arrangements and I will not be bitching… I am sure they are lovely, because Lucy is lovely and I couldn’t wish for a nicer No.2 daughter-in-law.


A new mrsbg is hot off the press… she never gets it right. Sounds like someone I know very very well…doh!

If you want to enjoy a little Bob E Howard visit here and from the pen of moi visit here but don’t expect Wordsworth or Byron or REH… it’s just my flight of fancy.


Oven calling me… must get back to the kitchen sink… I know my place!


Happy birthday Lisa… hope you got lotsa lovely presies ;>)


Posted on: 23 October 2006

Choices decisions
Wise well chosen… or not
Hesitant for moment’s pleasure
For just one stolen kiss
Ephemeral rapture
Transient bliss

On my shoulder devil dances
Temptation great
The lure the pull
Satisfaction guaranteed
Whispers angel in my ear
Or sorrow hell agony

Thinks contemplation
One illicit thrill
Rhapsody rising
Relish burning brush
Paradise heaven nirvana
Anticipate his touch

Agony or ecstasy
Deny desire wants needs
Give in, feel, face
Torment, woe or sheer delight
Illusory embrace in his arms
Exhilaration fright

Choices decisions
No, not at all; just castles in the air
Imagination running wild
Flights of fantasy
Romanticised chimera
Quixotic fancy dreams

copyright 2006 ann raven

I have not heard lutes beckon me, nor the brazen bugles call

But once in the din of a haunted lea I heard the silence fall.

I have not heard the regal drum, nor seen the flag unfurled,

But I have watched the dragons come, fire-eyed, across the world….

And I have felt the sudden blow of a nameless wind’s cold breath,

And watched the grisly pilgrims go that walk the roads of Death,

And I have seen black valleys gape, abysses in the gloom,

And I have fought the deathless Ape that guards the Doors of Doom.

I have not seen the face of Pan, nor mocked the dryad’s haste,

But I have trailed a dark-eyed Man across a windy waste.

I have not died as men may die, nor sin as men have sinned,

But I have reached a misty sky upon a granite wind.

Jamie asked Lucy to marry him

She said, “Yes.”

They are engaged!

Mazal tov my dearest children and may you be blessed with a lifetime filled with love joy and happiness… I love you

Inside every older person is a younger person wondering what happened ~ Jennifer Yane

We know when we’re getting old when the only thing we want for our birthday is not to be reminded of it.

Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional ~ Chili Davis A well adjusted woman is one who not only knows what she wants for her birthday, but even knows what she’s going to exchange it for.The secret of staying young is to live honestly, eat slowly, and lie about your age ~ Lucille Ball

Thirty five is a very attractive age; London society is full of women who have of their own free choice remained thirty-five for years ~ Oscar Wilde
Few women admit their age. Few men act theirs ~ Anon

A diplomat is a man who always remembers a woman’s birthday but never remembers her age ~ Robert Frost

A woman’s always younger than a man of equal years ~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Grow old with me, the best is yet to be ~ Robert Browning


Well I did it… I survived another birthday, another hateful birthday. I have to confess I was in a right strop at the beginning of the week and on Tuesday I just wanted to cry… well I did, I cried a lot and withdrew into my shell.

I have the added onus of ensuring that my twin brother (who I think looks at least ten years older than me, or perhaps I should say I look ten years younger) does not mention our age because it was in fact our ??th birthday and I am not at all happy that I have got older, but no wiser. Also, I LIE…. so don’t even ask me!

I have a few laughter lines (isn’t that what they call them) around my eyes and an odd grey hair and I’ve just had to buy the next size in jeans… not because my bottom has expanded, it has merely dropped, but because my waistline has kinda disappeared in that frightening phrase, middle-aged spread… huh. So instead of wearing bottom hugging but I can’t breathe jeans, I have had to buy the next size with added ‘stretch’ which means my stomach is not in my throat, and there’s still a little room for expansion!

[…Jen, sweetheart, I have since learned that your size 6 is our size 10 so I don’t hate you after all and now I don’t feel so bad; but it’s my size 10’s that are cruelly teasing me in my wardrobe]!

I have a wonderful friend who torments me because I am exactly two weeks older than him… I have to remind him that my birthday would have been in the middle of November if I wasn’t a month premature. I’ll try any trick.

Also, I am a sucker for lotions and potions and I was totally gutted when I learnt last week that Clinique are in trouble for the claims they made about their Repairwear products… I have been using them religiously and, in truth, I haven’t seen any improvement. In my attempts to turn back time, I spend a fortune on moisturisers and body lotions and foot creams and sculpting and firming and toning lotions…. maybe I shall have to succumb to that knife. Does anyone have any tips that work, really work, other than wearing a sack over my head?

Everyone says you are as old as you feel… I’m not feeling anyone, but I do know I am at that age when I should know better and so happy I don’t!

Anyway I got through Wednesday and by yesterday I was back in good humour, the day was behind me, and I don’t have to think about it for another 364 days… should I live that long.

In fairness the children were lovely and bought me a new ipod and Rachel came home early from work and took me shopping and of course I HAD to buy another pair of shoes… didn’t I? Oh I must go back for the gorgeous lingerie I lovingly lingered over… another thing I am a sucker for so that even if I know I look like sh** on the outside, at least I’m wearing something pretty underneath… and say I get run over and the doctor at the hospital is the man of my dreams… sorry… got carried away there.

Later we all met up for dinner, me, my mama, Daniel (Rachel’s bf) Jamie and Lucy and I got nicely sozzled on margaritas as, hooray, I wasn’t driving. Yesterday morning at work, I had a coffee every half-an-hour….. hmmm and my boss was being especially nice and caring and generous (with the work) … okay he was sucking up with the sweet-talk and really overdoing it just to piss the others off in the office.

It is the one day in the year when I want to hide under the covers all day and make it disappear, but my friends and family do not allow me to forget it. I sincerely thank everyone for their good wishes, their kindness and their generosity both at home and through cyberspace. Jill, thank you for the special Bobby treat on your blog.

My world has grown for the better since meeting and getting to know you all. I wonder and am in awe of the talent in blogdom and I value the friendships we have made and the love we have for each other.

I wish each and every one of you a wonderful weekend and to those who share my faith, Shabbat Shalom


His hands dig deep into my heart
They curl around and squeeze it tight
My heart it throbs and beats within his grasp
Willing I am, no struggle, no fight

His hands reach darkly into my soul
And stroke my essence, my nub, my core
Silently I’m screaming, I belong to you
Take my being, take me more

His hands brush gently across my form
And caress like a butterfly my skin
A fire burns beneath his touch
My womb is crying out within

His hands run frenzied through my hair
And pull me sharply towards his face
Captivated and drowning in his eyes
Yielding to his wild embrace

His hands search boldly within my depths
Arousing, beckoning, pleasure, desire
Leaving earth, welcoming heaven
Flying on wings in a chariot of fire

His hands rest gently in my own
His strength, his power, possess me still
Sleeping for now within his arms
For soon his hands will return of their own free will

Copyright 2006 Ann Raven

the loves of my life

at the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet ~~~ plato

thank you…

... to everyone whose pictures and videos I have borrowed; if anyone would like theirs to be removed, please tell me and I shall be happy to do so

all words here are mine ~ I’ll tell you when they’re not!

from long ago

in case I forget what day of the week it is

October 2006