Katastrophe incarnate

 Good day my darlings! I do hope you’ve all been behaving to my standards, I shall be entirely put out if you haven’t all been delightful little deviants while I’ve been away. 

   I’ve gone out today, to run a couple errands and felt like doing myself up proud. The small goblins returned to school, and I had the chance to focus entirely on my look for going out. 

  I haven’t been up to my usual standard, far too busy with my home’s newest inhabitant! You see Your Lady Kat, glamorous and utterly divine as I may be, lives on a lovely little farm. My father’s homestead farm to be exact! I manage the running of the farm as well as my small family and seeing to it my various disabled and older relatives are properly cared for. I’m a busy Lady, and look damn good doing it all. 

   Well recently a winter storm made life a bit more interesting as did the tiny piglet who chose the worst of all possible winter birthdays. The sole survivor of a litter of three, incredibly small for pigs to begin with, the little lad has had a hell of a fight for his continued existence. Given the circumstances of his birth, he was abandoned by the mother, brought indoors with a sibling that did not make it, had to be fed with a 10ml syringe, and on homemade formula as we couldn’t get out to find purpose made piglet milk. It’s been a bit of a ride. 

   He’s four days old now, his formula decided on and his routine established, and so I was able to leave him with my partner, and run my errands. But I decided to do them looking the most like my usual self, with a small addition. 

   Experimenting with false lashes as I’ve not worn them in a decade, I rather enjoy the effect, a bit dream, a little doll like? A cross between pinup and a fantasy witch? Yes, please! 

   Being watched intently while applying them by a very small porcine was less disconcerting than expected, though I’m sure he was very confused. My usual makeup is only enhanced by the extra step and I’m not opposed to the continued experimentation with them. But that’s not where our story for today is taking us. 

  That’s right you lovely miscreants! Lady Kat ventured out amongst the Normies! And the beacon on her chest calling the most annoying of them obviously dragged the worst to offer into interacting with me! So gather round, grab your popcorn, and prepare yourselves, for I’ve a tale to tell! 

   I tried both farm supply options in my town and could not find the required formula for my little charge so I ventured into the grocery store, we make do when we can’t find the exact. A good Lady is resourceful and must think outside the box. So on the baking aisle, powdered goats milk was easy enough to find, but unfortunately I found my way quite blocked. 

    The girl herself wasn’t large by any stretch of the imagination, her attitude on the other hand was monumental. She had another girl at her side, and a young man was walking a bit behind them. Bundled up against the cold as they were I missed the ankle length skirts and stack of pamphlets in their hands until I’d already made the mistake of announcing my presence. 

  My simple, polite, “excuse me?”, followed with a gesture to the powdered milk behind the girls was met with a look of nervous excitement on one face, and unmasked disdain on the other. A glance at the young man nearly had me laugh, eyes wide and jaw clenched, I swear he actually gulped. 

   “Don’t you have any respect?!?” Came from the second girl, the first looked like she gave herself mild whiplash turning to look at her companion. Now I thought my polite utterance was terribly respectful, especially when they were blocking the entire baking aisle. 

   Then I saw where she was looking, my makeup, and the not insignificant décolletage displayed, tastefully I thought, by my ensemble du jour. Simply a fitted deep v top and long black skirt that gives me a Vibe of Madame Addams if you catch my drift? Far and away not my most outlandish or even outrageous look! 

   I don’t know if any of you can relate, but when someone a good decade(or more) my junior speaks to me in such a way, I cycle through a couple reactions, one or two stick and their next words will determine just what version of Lady Kat they’ll get. Her next words sealed her fate and I’m fairly sure mortified her companions. 

   “I mean dressed like some witch Harlot in the middle of the day!” 

    Ok little girl, it’s showtime. 

  “As opposed to when?” You could see the girl’s vocal chords disengage, she gaped at me. I’ve no idea what she expected but my question, delivered with as much condescension as I could manage, looking down my nose at her. The young man seemed to be choking on his tongue now and if the floor had opened and swallowed the other girl whole I doubt she’d have minded. 

  I saw the girl bristle as she registered my lack of interest in her opinion of my look, and rather than risk more drivel escaping her lips to infect the air around me I simply crossed my arms beneath my bosom and shifted my weight to one hip. A lady always knows the best postures to present her figure to it’s best effect, after all. 

  “Well?” I asked, my own voice dripping disdain. The mortified companion looked on in confusion, did I want a response to my question? Was I going to call out her incredibly rude friend? 

   The poor girl let out an audible sigh when I gestured to the powdered milk again and she scurried to hand it to me. Her now very sour faced companion still looked perplexed in a mildly constipated way, perhaps that’s just her face? 

    At this point the young man seems to have finally rebooted, and blurted out “Wait! Could we talk to you about Jesus for a bit? You could come to our worship service sometime!” I almost couldn’t make out what he said it was so quickly expelled! When it came through it took everything in me not to laugh. 

  Sourpuss looked ready to commit unspeakable crimes, glaring between the young man and myself as if she couldn’t decide who she was angrier at. The awkward girl nearly fumbled the bag of milk, seemingly unable to decide if she should try and pass me a pamphlet as well as the milk. I came to a snap decision then and let my face melt into the most mischievous expression possible. 

   Looking at the young man from beneath my lashes, a slightly confused half smile quirking my lips I replied, “oh I much prefer being the one worshiped in my social engagements.” 

 I turned my eyes to the awkward girl and smiled my thanks to her for handing me what I needed, and winked at her for good measure. I thought she’d been blushing before, now she was positively scarlet! 

   I turned and went about my shopping having finished with that interaction, my friend working the check out asked if everything was ok when I got there, looking over my shoulder. I glanced over and saw the sour faced girl dragging her companions out the door, no purchases to be seen, glaring a hole in the back of my favorite top. 

   I laughed and regaled her with the latest in the adventures I get up to when I come out and about! 

  When I got home a very excited little pigling waited for his next meal, and if you’ve never seen an infant pig wagging his tail I highly recommend it, the cuteness of this is hard to beat. 

Good day my darling deviants! Did you miss me? Never mind, we all know you did! 

 I’ve been away a while, recovering myself from that pesky medical mess last month, and returning to the vim and vigor I’m so known for. I’ve been picking up some new skills, dabbling in liquer making again, perfecting a few old makeup skills, relearning several I’d forgotten. 

  But of course that’s not what prompted a blogpost from me! I’m sure any past readers know what brings my wit to page like nothing else! 

  Those who guessed rude people choosing the worst target possible? Very good, I’m proud of you. 
    Now gather round you delightful little devils, it’s story time. 

    Today saw your Lady out and about going to the different pharmacies in town that my various older relatives had medicine in. As the winter storm watch had come into effect this evening, no less than four relations required refills on various maintenance meds. Now I had plans to be in town anyways, so I graciously volunteered to pick things up for them in the very unlikely case we get more than a half inch of snow. 

   I should preface, I live in the northernmost southern state, snow isn’t mythological here, happens once or twice a winter usually. However schools close, businesses shut up, and the mayor declares a state of emergency if the meteorologists predict snow. People believe the frost giants and gods of old will be battling on their lawn, and half of them entirely forget how to operate their vehicles. 

  I wish I was kidding. 

   So I expected madness, I expected to be annoyed, but ultimately I decided I’d rather deal with the hassle myself than have my mother or aunt riled up before possibly being shut in for a few days. With me as their primary venting outlet.  See the logic? 

  I decided to pick up a couple strips of false lashes while out and take the time this storm to give them a little try since it’s been more than a decade. Lash techniques have come along way, and a little extra drama in the look warns the peasantry not to get out of line. 

Now I was dressed for the day, my grey pea coat, a Heather scarf and knit cap, long wool skirt and I have to admit illfitting turtleneck beneath a loose cardigan.  Stockings and garter belt with a favorite lingerie set for a bit of confidence underneath, and sexy librarian cat eyed glasses. We mustn’t forget those. 

   I did a light makeup look, with white freckles across my cheeks and nose, flurry freckles to add a touch of whimsy, I barely had to bother with much else besides my signature eyeliner and a deep red lip. 

   As previously mentioned the pharmacies were all a study in madness. Harried people scurrying about gathering up this and that, as if the shops would be buried for weeks. I didn’t mind too much as it’s not terribly hassling to me. 

   What I took offense to was how some of my fellows chose to speak to the people working. 

  I simply cannot abide abuse of people simply trying to do their, oftentimes, thankless jobs. 

  The poor guy working the line at the pharmacy for example, the one guy not furiously trying to fill the orders. When I got into the queue there was at least 9 in front of me, and I was not the last in line. 

  Now I didn’t hear much before, but the creature directly in front of me seemed to think she was special. That she ought not stand in lines, and they should have her prescriptions ready. 

  Apparently through some psychic power as she had not authorized auto refills, had not called in any prescriptions, nor did she even have a refill on the medication in question. 

   But Lady Kat! How can you know that, you ask? 

   Because she shouted the entire conversation as if the young man across the counter was hard of hearing!  He tried to explain that this isn’t how pharmacies work,  they can’t just hand out Xanax like skittles after all, and if she’d please move over to drop off someone else could talk to her about the situation. 
 

    Here she made the mistake of shrieking obscenities at him. 

  Now some retail workers can take this behavior, and some cannot. Some handle such things with grace and some get management to help them. This young man looked utterly defeated, on the verge of tears. 

  And I’m sure you know who couldn’t hold her tongue any more. 

   A sharp “excuse me!” Over her wretched howling brought immediate silence to the proceedings. Followed by “you are aware they don’t have to serve you when you insist on acting like a toddler!” 

   The silly cow whirled about to snap at me, standing as I was just behind, one hand on my hip and the same unamused expression I wear when my niece attempts to tell me a fib. I’m not certain the woman’s body didn’t suffer whiplash when she abruptly stopped. You see her eyeline was about to my sternum. She had a ways up to look to see that aforementioned expression. 

  As she did look up, registering the supremely unimpressed mein, she seemed to deflate, this was not some meek little mouse she could threaten and intimidate. This was a cat far larger than herself, a housecat staring up at a tigress, and hiss all she liked there was no mistaking such insurmountable odds. 

  One half hearted glare and the sulky idiot went along to drop off, where the line was even longer. The young man was fairly scarlet after his latest encounter with the Karenasuarus Rex and I politely smiled and asked for the appropriate prescriptions for the relations I was picking up for. I wished him luck and an early break when I left and the remaining customers behind seemed to know how to properly behave in public. 

  I bought a different sort of lash adhesive than I’d tried back in the day, I’m rather excited to try it out. The chance to enjoy new looks is intoxicating 

Being so behind in the holiday preparation, a Lady gets a bit stressed running about trying to get things back on track. 

  Here is where the self control and a couple discreet toys comes in to make the Holiday Spirit just a little more accessible. Currently my favorites are the Lovense Lush and Flexer, but I’d love to hear what other toys are fun for out and about play. 

How many vibrating egg toys has Lady Kat played with today? 

share you’re guess below! 

hints, used simultaneously.  An even number. 

 content warning: hospitals, emergency services, surgery, needles and blood m

Hello Darlings, it’s been a while and I suppose that’s mostly due to life and the nature of existence. I did not in fact die, though it may have been closer than I like to admit here recently. 

   Today I come to you mere days after my escape from the tender clutches of the US healthcare system! That’s right, lovelies, your Lady Kat was subjected to the not so tender mercies of a not so very local hospital.  And of course I wish nothing so much as to share the highlights of the ordeal with you all! 

   Firstly, what was wrong in the first place! A nasty little infection in my lower left jaw became rather ambitious and chose the holiday weekend to run an absolute muck. Turning my lovely profile into something more worthy of the more heinously curated grotesqueries, I attempted treatments first at an urgent care facility, then at the local emergency room. When introduced to the prescribed antibiotics, one may say the infection laughed heartily at my expense. 

   The final emergency room visit had a crack team,  who immediately began the process of getting me to an appropriate surgeon. While I was less than enthusiastic about this move, the idea of dying and having my face double its usual size was even less appealing, so away I was sent. 

    Thus began my five days in a hospital, going mental. Because I was transported in the evening, surgery couldn’t be managed until the next day, when I’d had some exposure to iv antibiotics. And exposure I received! Along with pain meds that hit with a remarked similarity to being knocked behind the ear with a sock full of sand. 

    I was given only clear liquids the first night and nothing at all the following day, as one may react unpleasantly to anesthesia on a full stomach, and so I made it to the OR hangry, tired, pained, and rather less chirpy than my charming usual. I did make the nurses laugh a time or two when expressing my concern for their personal safety walking me to the bathroom. 

  The entirety of my stay, I can confidently say exactly one nurse, the only male nurse of my stay, could have done Fuck all had I begun to fall. Not because I doubt the women who cared for me, but because not one of them cleared my shoulder. They assigned me the smallest women possible, and one moderate sized man. Though all took exceeding good care of me, and saw to it my meds were administered on time and fully, the idea of them preventing my possible falling is laughable at best. 

The only snag came when one of them thought she knew better about my piercing. When one goes under the knife, jewelry must be removed. Permanent jewelry, like my bangle which cannot be removed will be medically taped to try to prevent possible burns should cauterization tools be utilized. My lip ring on the other hand can be removed. I asked the doctors, nurses and the surgeon about when I could replace it. They all advised rinsing it in mouthwash before hand but as soon as I was coordinated enough after surgery was fine. 

Well the nurse I woke up to after the surgery had other thoughts, huffing about “reintroducing infection” and “unsightly on such a pretty face” as if she was my mother. Horrid cow of a woman really, I wasn’t my usual eloquent self, so told her I’d just get up soon as she left the room and do it myself if she was going to be obstinate about it. I was less than popular with her after that but the CNA loved me, I take it she wasn’t well liked by them either. 

I would love to say the rest of my stay was uneventful, but honestly could that ever happen to me? 

  I was post op a day before the causes were really explored, samples taken during surgery were sent for testing and the culprit of my misery was moments from discovery, what had caused all this pain? 

a tooth

a back molar to be exact. Now blessedly removed, but a tooth nonetheless! And worst of all? A tooth I’d never had a pain from! Not so much as a twinge biting down on something cold. The damn thing had deteriorated without pain and left me a pocket of infection waiting for the right circumstances to reign hell on my life. 

But let’s not leave out it’s accomplice, the never ending battle with streptococcus I had this summer? Triggered a revolt in my cheek and jawline, sparking the minor infection beneath the betraying tooth to its full murderous rage. 
 
 The cultures took two days to return, and for those days I languished in a hospital bed becoming more and more reminiscent of a well used pincushion. You see, the Iv in my arm wasn’t viable through the surgery, so another was required in my hand, and then that could take the constant meds, so another in the other arm, which promptly gave up to require a fourth. Not to mention the daily bloodwork required to be sure the antibiotics were effectively fighting my current situation. My arms are bruised and punctured my hands worse than my arms. 

Finally I was cleared to leave on Sunday, but only after the saddest lunch I could be afforded, the less said about one’s dietary offerings in a hospital, the better. 

It was after four o’clock when I tasted free air, and well after dark before I made it home.  I won’t wax poetic about my homecoming, only that I was exhausted from both my ordeal and the journey it took to get home. I’d love to tell you I’m improving mightily and shall be returned to my natural vigor and activities any day. 

  But as I’m not given to heinous lies, I cannot. The medicine I was sent home with is positively vile, my stomach seems to have shrunk during my stay, and I have the energy of a sedated sloth. I’m on soft foods until I’m cleared in the follow up, a fact that brings great levity to my partner and offspring. The antibiotics alone cause dizziness, together pack a punched up vertigo bad enough to make the most steady motion sick. Taking a shower unassisted is a second hospital trip waiting to happen, and washing my hair is tiring enough to require a 45 minute rest period before any further activity may be attempted. 

But I’m home, I didn’t miss the holidays with my kids, and day by day my jawline is returning to a more normal shape. When I’m back to myself completely, perhaps we can see what mischief your Lady can scrape up.

Until then do behave darlings! 

Well darlings, by that title I’m sure you can guess I have a little story for you. So settle in and get comfortable, perhaps a nice hot cup of coffee? Or tea should you so prefer? 

     Now as can be expected, I don’t put full effort in before I’m properly caffeinated. Wearing my natural face, letting my hair fall in its natural waves, even forgoing dressing properly. I know such a shock! But really under my coat you’d never know I’m in a vintage nightgown and robe, except for anyone reading this and my partner that sees it most mornings.

     Anyways, this particular morning I was perhaps a bit late, and couldn’t make my coffee at home, no trouble a quick stop at the starbies, and one far kinder Lady Kat returns home to dress and prep for a day out and about. 

     Or so I thought. 

     I was standing in line, as the drive thru was backed up nearly into the main road, and therefore not an option to me, and the man directly behind me began testing the very dregs of whatever patience I had leftover from yesterday. Muttering about “girls today” and “no pride in appearances”. 

    At first I was confused, the woman ahead of me was dressed in scrubs and seemed to be heading home from a shift at the hospital, but still normal enough. The college students seated across the store were both in hoodies and messy buns but not out of the norm either. The hyper critical man kept muttering. I got more annoyed, the man ordering at the counter really should have used the app to order ahead as it appeared he was ordering for the entire office, but I wasn’t in a hurry for any reason but to be away from the grump behind me. 

     I glanced back to see who he was looking at and my dislike was solidified when I see I my self am the object of his disdain. I smiled and pulled my earbud out, and he stopped muttering. 
   

     “It’s been a while since someone referred to me as a girl” turning back to the front as the man finally finished ordering and the tired woman ordered a shocking amount of espresso shots in her latte. 

   Of course rather than apologizing for his rude remarks, Prof Audacity chose to double down. He was dressed like a professor in an old college comedy, complete with sport coat and bad hair. I choose to ignore most of his words, but phrases like “no pride in appearances” and “no effort” and “never find a man like that” poked through the veil of indifference. 

     I couldn’t hold back the laugh with that last bit. He took great offense at my laugh. Poor thing. 

    By this time I was at the front and placed my order which earned a scoff from the professor to which I turned fully around and requested his opinion as he so desperately wished to give it. In my lowest boots I was still looking down on the idiot. Points for his testicular fortitude, he didn’t back down. 

   “That’s a very fattening drink.” 

   One blink

   Two 

    On the third blink both I and the barista behind me burst out laughing. 

    “Oh no, a man I don’t know, or care anything about, thinks my mocha will make me fat! However will I recover from such a blow!” The barista was cackling at my false drama. The manager struggled to keep his face straight reminding her to get back to work, and the others working behind the counter all shook with trying to keep it in. 

  A caffeine devotee of my caliber obviously makes friends with the people making my coffee, at three cafes at minimum, so my antics are nothing new here. But the audacious one had no idea what he’d stepped into. And being laughed at wasn’t his preference to start the day. 

    As I pulled out my phone to pay, the shoulder of my coat slipped down, I didn’t bother to fix it as I went to sit and wait for my drink. The silk of my robe showed clearly, and I couldn’t care less that the jerk glared, like the secrets of the universe were in that bit of silk and he was upset by the answers.

     I thought the interaction was done when I grabbed my drink, but that wasn’t to be the case. 

      “I’m just trying to help you.” 

   Oh darlings, I won’t repeat what I told the condescending bastard, partially because I was so angry I hardly recall what all I said. Heseemed shocked by my assertion that his “help” was nothing more than a poorly veiled attempt to shame a woman wholly unknown to him, who he has no chance in several hells with. For what purpose? So I’d be grateful to some misogynistic prick for making me some version of woman I don’t want to be? Some twig of a girl with no self worth beyond what some man sees fit to bestow on me? 

   Now, to my gorgeous girls reading this who are thin, you are beautiful and I mean no offense, but I’m a healthy plump Goddess of a woman. We can all agree I look damn good plump and healthy, and I’m happy to express in the most passionate language the beauty that is each and every person willing to open themself to the experience. Between the artists eye and the pansexual heart, the pictures I’ll paint with both word and actual paint will leave no doubt of the beauty I find. 

  The Prof of Audacity however, he’s opened to the harsher side of that nature. His eyes bugged out, most unattractively, at my tirade, the color draining from his face leaving his complexion a most unbecoming greyed white. His mouth kept opening as if he meant to interject some other drivel to the proceedings, but as I clearly had the floor and was at one point dating him to try and speak over me? He remained mute. The sport coat he wore might have been smart had he ever thought to have it tailored but as it sat, too broad at the shoulder and too wide at the waist, not much to say about that. He may have been a nicely proportioned man, if not for the ill-fitting clothes, probably never thought to be measured to figure out how to properly dress himself.  I usually don’t hold this against people, except youth pastors, but he’s raised my ire. 

    When I finally finished my dissection of his person, audacity, poor mode of dress, and character as a man, he looked shell shocked and mildly stunned. So I simply sipped my drink and pulled out my sketch pad and a few pencils. Effectively dismissing the idiot. 

    He left quietly shortly after that and one of the college kids came up to me. She looked at my drawing of a rather warty toad, smiled and asked if I ever draw people. I joked that I was, the likeness between the “gentleman” and my drawing seemed striking to me. She giggled, informed me my verbal vivisection was inspiring and offered me another drink. We sat and discussed her paper on premodern animal worship for a bit. By the time I left, I was back to myself, all anger washed away with caffeine and a charming girl’s admiration. 

     I’ll leave it here darlings, I still need to dress and decide just how extra I wish to be today. Until next time, don’t miss me too much! 

  Well my deviant darlings, it was bound to happen eventually! I read a moderate amount and when a Lady finds something as sinfully delicious as this little literary morsel, it’s cruel not to share! 

      I don’t do spoilers, dreadfully poor manners in my opinion when one is recommending a book, but a warning about certain content before I go further. The book contains quite a bit of blood, terribly unhealthy relationship situations, mindgames/gaslighting sort of behaviors, and various violent situations. There’s quite a bit more and a warning in the novel itself but once you’re aware of the premise, well it makes sense. 

      If you’ve an inclination toward vampires, minus the glitter, gorgeous writing and romance if the darker variety, perhaps you’ll try A Dowry of Blood, by S.T. Gibson? 

      Told in the voice of the medieval bride of Dracula, the novel is presented as her letters. The uniqueness of voice aside, the letters vary in length and content, emotion bleeding through the pages as from a vein opened to express the tortured thoughts of their author.

    She exquisitely details her involvement not only with her Lord, but with his other consorts as well.
       

          The collection of thoughts neither hurried nor dragging along, I find it difficult to put the book down when reading and as a Lady of rather extensive mental self discipline, I must say the fact delights me. Constanta wrests attention from my other pursuits and her voice reaches from the page to enthrall me to follow further into her tale. 

     Her struggle is understandable, confusion at the motives of her Lord, his moods changing so rapidly, yet the classic character of Dracula still shows through. While the Harkers are briefly mentioned, Constanta and her fellow consorts are the heart of this story. They are to the fore rather than afterthoughts in the horror. 

   Aren’t their tales horrific enough? 

   As a dominant Lady, this book strikes a chord. The relationships in these pages are not so different from many I’ve seen play out in the lifestyle that brought us to this site. But more than that, we’ve all seen behaviors like this in the world at large, not just in our communities. The vanilla world has as many, if not more cases of people behaving very similarly to the controlling Lord Dracula in this book. Hopefully with less bloodshed but honestly nothing would surprise me. 

    Now between consenting adults, I do not presume to dictate what one may or may not take part in. Unless I happen to be one of those previously mentioned adults, then I can unequivocally state that, blood play, cutting, and illegal activities will not be taking place. You’ll need a different Lady for that, this one has her limits and those are top of the list under watersports and above permanent disfigurement. 

    As to who I believe may appreciate this book? Of the submissive contingent this may be a worthy addition to your reading lists, if you enjoy a gothic horror romance, or just enjoy a gorgeously written dark romance. It tickles both fancies I find. A note though, several times in reading Constanta’s perspective, I’ve recognized similarities between her experiences and those of subs dealing with “faux or insta” doms. Abusers play acting dominants to capture new or inexperienced subs. If you have the stomach for the analysis, it may prove an excellent study in these most crimson of flags. 

     Conversely, I don’t think only submissive inclined people will enjoy the book. I certainly have and we all know where my interests lay. 

     From the dominant perspective, beyond the lovely turn of phrase and beautiful characterizations, a reading with a critical eye towards the communications between our focus and her Lord? His methods of control are sinister of course, without giving too much away, but reading through and understanding why they worked, perhaps we can effect positive discussion?
       It is tempting to scoff and declare “he’s a vampire! Of course he’s evil” but if Buffy taught us anything it’s real life can be discussed in supernatural fiction. Or did we forget the variety of monster of the week episodes that covered real life issues? For a further discussion of my thoughts on Buffy, look to future posts, I have many and this isn’t the place. Even if she fought Dracula and he used the mind control bs on her. 

    For those not inclined to full dominance or submission, perhaps a kink enthusiast or switch, or even a simply curiosity stricken soul who made it here by mistake, the book may well entrance you as well, it’s exceptional story telling in a unique voice and style. Even if not your usual preference, the book deserves a shot. 

    It’d make me terribly happy if you’d try, darlings, do give it a go. 

Surprise I’m alive! 

    Darlings I’ve had quite the holiday season and you’ll just have to excuse a certain level of neglect. Your Lady Kat was utterly swamped with frightful festivities and putting moronic family members and locals alike in their places. 

   Over the course of the past few weeks I’ve been ascribed to all manner of silly monikers. Things like “Dramatic” and “other the top” to “salacious” and “unnecessarily tempting”. The date of one family member accused me of trying to “defraud” himself and other young men present.   

     Now some of those caused eye rolling, a few vicious smirks, and one incredibly puzzled look at that last one. 

   Darlings, it’s official, I’ve had an encounter with a fundie! So you may all mark “Lady Kat deals with a Bible tyrant” off your Bingo cards! 

    Gather close my darling little deviants, it’s story time. Don’t worry, there’s always plenty of room to kneel at my feet. 

 Let’s set the scene shall we. The extended family does a couple of events for the season, and some are more party like than others, this one was a pre Christmas dinner party consisting of smoked meats and cheeses and charcuterie like accompaniments. There was wine for those of us who partake and tea for those who don’t. All fine and inclusive. It’s the sort of gathering one should expect when a baptist marries a Catholic and the two families refused to split the holidays. That was years ago but the traditions have held. 
     

      Now I’m sure you all can guess the sort of outfit I wore, a well fitting green dress in the vintage style I love best, wine red tights, and a soft cropped cardigan in white. My usual black boots swapped for a pair of black Mary janes in deference to my grandmother. I’d done some cute festive makeup, green liner and holly drawn at the corner of my eyes, and a red lip. Perhaps the dress was short, and the tights rather sheer, but a perfectly respectable outfit. My partner made sure to express his appreciation for my outfit as he was adjusting the buckles on my shoes. 

   The start of the party was fun. Holiday music and some games for the lytlings, gifts passed about and food eaten. It was when the party broke into small groups of conversation, that I had to make rounds in as the host’s grandchild, that the trouble began. 

   A cousin brought their new beau to the party. Sort of a trial by fire for the fellow. He was polite if a bit cocky sounding, and by gods was he dull. His suit was less than well tailored, which is fair enough but the fact he wore a suit at all was strange enough. Most college students I know rarely manage a button down shirt and slacks, let alone the jacket and tie this fellow wore. But it was odd. 

   He spoke to the air above my left shoulder rather than speaking directly to me. And occasionally glared at the glass of mulled wine in my hand, as if it was spitting insults at him. I pulled the cousin aside after that encounter and asked what the issue was. 

    Here’s where I was called both “dramatic” and “over the top” by the way, her excuse was he’s just very religious and my entire being was shocking to someone like him. 

    Now, dearies, you know I love to make a splash. If I don’t turn heads entering a room I’m either quite ill, or I’ve been possessed! But by wearing a skirt above the knee, properly applied makeup and having my lovely décolletage displayed to tasteful advantage, I had somehow upset this young man. Oh and drinking anything stronger than lemonade, well I’d just labeled myself an utter harlot! How sinful of me, how terribly wicked. 

  And I’m the dramatic one. I resolved to avoid them the rest of the evening. She had the look of a girl enamored with her fool of a paramour, and he wasn’t likely to be a stimulating conversation for me either. 

    But as with all the best laid plans, my own sound resolution was not to be allowed to stand. 

     Less than an hour later, I was stood discussing with my aunt and her stepdaughter their plans to visit her boyfriend and his parents. Of course some gentle teasing of the teen, and her recent rather poetic appreciations of her sweetheart was overheard by the young man. He inserted himself into our conversation and my aunt’s annoyance very nearly matched my own when he asked how she could allow me to corrupt her child that way. 

    Here I believe is where salacious was used. Glad to see his SAT vocab prep stuck. 

     But apparently my being a desirable woman, dressed as such, was defrauding to the men present. I’m related either by marriage or blood to all other males at this event. My partner by this point having taken the lytlings home for all of us, he was not present at this point. Good thing too, he’d have been laughing out loud by then. 

    Defrauding, to the best of my inferring from the ramblings he spewed at me, means causing lustful thoughts or attempting to seduce in some way. Again, this was a family party, cue my disgust and disdain. My aunt and grandma agreed. Though my great uncle laughed at the boy attempting to shame me. 

   “This is conservative for her! And she looks perfectly respectable, sonny. If you saw her the rest of the year that’d be a shock for you! She’s not responsible for your attraction or confusion, maybe work on those before coming back hmm?” The old man said, between gasping laughs. He was a teen when my mother had come along, and was the fun uncle. Rode a motorcycle until his heart transplant in the 90’s. He was also the one who bought me the material to make this dress last year. After I mentioned wanting to recreate one from a picture I’d seen of his mother and aunts in the 50’s. 

     The preachy boy left shortly after that, and we spent the rest of the evening consoling my cousin. She didn’t appreciate his insinuations or his thoughts on my appearance. She was more annoyed she’d wasted two months of her college life dating him. I told her the next guy who invites her to Bible study as a date, maybe pass on that one. 

     So my little deviants, Lady Kat is back, and perhaps you can see where she gets some of her spark from? 

It’s been a busy time for this Lady, my darlings! 

   Baking, planning, cleaning, organizing and dealing with the locals has left me little time to do much more than fall exhausted into my bed at days end. I’ve barely had time to play with my servant or do more than a quick pop in to check my messages and say “hi” in chat! 

    But with the big day upon us, I can have a bit of a break in the action and get things back on track. I’ll be answering some messages, sharing a few stories, maybe having a bit of fun for myself! 

      Until then, do be patient, after all, good things come to those who wait. 

A loooooooooong jacket. 

   Yes my devious darlings, your Lady Kat has dressed for the weather and her mood, and I comes with theme music. 

    You find before you a first class Lady, enjoying her day, six cups of coffee consumed, hair styled to effortless appearance, dressed in her favorites. 

    Snug top, semi sheer tights and a skirt that stops 8 inches above the knee, until I sit down or take too many steps.

      Bless these thick thighs. 
    Mustn’t forget my lovely jacket, the bodice fitting snug, the sleeves the actual correct length and the skirt brushing the backs of my calves. With the rest of my outfit, my metallic silver blue lipstick, and the glint of mischief in my eye, well is it any wonder I’ve made an impression?  

         I went out today with the simple errand of getting gas and some fresh produce for dinner,  a lovely salad with my balsamic glazed salmon and garlic Parmesan smashed potatoes? I thought it’s be best to go while the crowd was light. 

     The mark of a proper Lady is to handle being wrong with grace, and it is with that grace that I inform you all the place was a fucking circus! 

     Every person with a child too young to attend school, half the students not yet vacating the colleges for break, and every senior citizen with a valid(hopefully)license to operate a motor vehicle was at the store when I went inside. 

    The cart collecting younger gentleman who helped with my bags in the rain was working today, as was the cashier who assisted as well. Thankfully Karen and her harried hubby weren’t about this time. The smiles I got let me know I was at least memorable. 

   But the child of about three screeching to their father about the lady with hair just like her dragon’s scales, well lovelies, that made Lady Kat’s whole day. 

     No amount of censorious looks from the grumpy grannies and grouchy grandpas took the smile off my lips. The almost adults clearing the place out of energy drinks and patience? Not a problem for me today. The moms humming Disney songs under their breath and side eyeing me as I walk past couldn’t touch me. 

   I have Dragon hair.