[Vision2020] Cover your eyes, Doug and Dale!

[Joan Opyr]

At the risk of terrifying many of you and embarrassing my partner of 
nearly 14 years, I have decided to share with the list my deepest, 
darkest, most potent (at the moment) lesbian fantasy.  Please bear in 
mind that I am the mother of two children, a new homeowner, a freelance 
writer and editor, and a "gentleman farmer" with three dogs, four cats, 
fifteen chickens, and resident in-laws.  My fantasy is this:

I'm in one of those heavenly beds in the penthouse suite at the Westin 
Hotel in downtown Seattle.  My dear wife, Melynda, is beside me.  We've 
just had dinner at The Dahlia, crabcakes, lobster dipped in drawn 
butter, a bottle or two of fine wine, and, for dessert, the perfect 
creme brulee.  It's ten p.m.  The blinds are drawn, the room is dark, 
and soft music is playing.  Melynda and I . . . say goodnight to each 
other and go straight to sleep.  It's a deep, wonderful, sound sleep, 
uninterrupted by children laughing, children yelling, the television 
blaring, dogs barking, coyotes howling, chickens crowing, cats 
fighting, or my in-laws grinding coffee beans in the kitchen.  We sleep 
like logs for eight solid hours, or possibly a decadent nine.  We wake 
refreshed and happy.  No backaches from children (or dogs) climbing 
into bed with us and hogging up all the covers.  No strange and fitful 
dreams in which Doug Wilson comes to our house and wallpapers our 
living room with Rubbermaid bath mats to "improve the acoustics" for 
his Sunday sermon.  Just sleep, beautiful sleep.

And then, breakfast in bed, courtesy of The Westin.  Eggs benedict and 
champagne mimosas, the latter made with real Florida orange juice, 
freshly squeezed.

The end.

Joan Opyr/Auntie Establishment
Eyes wide shut, daydreaming happily, and yet, somehow, wrecking the 
"sanctity" of Dale's and Doug's heterosexual marriages.  Go figure.
www.joanopyr.com