On Tuesday morning I went in to work early for Wellness Testing. This is optional and provides some basic information about the health of the person who undergoes it. In addition to height, weight and blood pressure, several blood tests are done, including tests to check blood sugar, cholesterols, and liver function, among others. Since I’m middle-aged (and aging more everyday) I decided that I should probably take an inventory of what’s going on in my body.

I arrived at 6:30 am (WAAAYYY to early for me to be anywhere but in bed!). I was actually 15 minutes earlier than my scheduled time, but they were ready. First I had to turn in my paperwork and pay for the testing. It was $40, but try getting it done for that at the doctor’s office. Next they took my blood. It was one of those deals where they found a vein in your arm and drew a couple of vials full. I am of the opinion that if you don’t see it, it doesn’t hurt so much when they poke you, so I always look away. Maybe someday I’ll actually watch. Anyway, after the needle stick, which was quick and nearly painless, I was on to the next station. They had me take my shoes and socks off before they checked my height. I guess they wanted to make sure no one cheated by wearing high-heeled socks. Then they did a blood pressure check and a weight and that was it.

So what about the results? They said the results would be mailed out possibly as early as Friday, so I should get them soon. I’ll let you know how “healthy” I am when I get them!

The following is a quote that Master used recently:

In real life, we are what we do. I'm a writer. That's what I do.
Everything I do in a day is in some way connected to it. If I
get up and I have my Grape Nuts with raisins or I get laid or I
shoot some pool or whatever it is that I do, I'm thinking about
writing. It's all involved in the creative process. There is no
system. The totality that is my life is how I write. When I get
up and when I write is different every day, but every day, I
write. People say, 'Oh, you're so prolific.' That's a remark
made by a--holes who don't write. What else would I be doing? If
I were a plumber and I repaired 10,000 toilets, would they say,
'Boy, you're a really prolific plumber?' I'm a writer. I have
been for 30 years." –Harlan Ellison (from a 1985 "Starlog"
interview)

I read the above quote, and must say, that I take exception to it. If Mr. Ellison wishes to define himself as a writer above all else, I suppose that’s okay with me, but I have no wish to do so. I AM a writer. I do write. I think some of my stuff is good. Some is passable. And, I’ll admit, some of it sucks. I continue to write in the hopes of improving my craft and myself. But it is not the core of who I am.

I wear many hats. In addition to being a writer, I am a mother, an employee, a pet owner, and, certainly not least of all, a slave. I am all of these things. They all fit together and combine to make this entity known here as Slave of Bennet.

Although there is spill over, when I am doing “motherly” things, or being a good employee, I am probably not thinking about how this can translate into writing. And I guarantee, when I am getting laid, writing is the FURTHEST thing from my mind.

Maybe for you, Mr. Ellison, writing is an all consuming passion that burns away everything else. For me, however, writing is one of the many facets of the individual who is me.

If I am to be all consumed by one passion, make it the passion that Master and I share with each other.

Yes, I am sitting her at 5:47 am, saying I need a drink! Doesn’t sound good, does it?

Okay, it’s not what you think. This morning at work they are offering wellness testing. Sounds like a good idea to me, checking once in a while to see how things are going. As they say, I ain’t getting any younger. However, these are the type of tests that required you to fast. No food or water for 12 hours before testing.

Now, it’s my usually routine to jump out of the shower, get dressed, and grab a diet pop. Not this morning. My mouth is very confused by this change. Where’s the Pepsi? Root Beer? Even a Diet Coke will do in a pinch? Nothing.

Poor me. As soon as they draw that blood, I think I’m going to pop the top on a cold one.

As a slave, I very much wish to please my Master. Often, as I write here, I come up with my own topics and write. Sometimes I strike a chord with Master, or say something profound or impressive. Sometimes I don’t.

But occasionally, Master will ask me to write about something specific. Yesterday’s piece, about meeting him at the airport, is a good example. I so wish to please my Master. I want the words I write to be something he likes. I love his praise. I wilt under his criticism.

Nevertheless, I know that Master wants me to be HONEST. I don’t say things because it is what he wants to hear. This would NOT please him. So I must be true to both myself and who I am as an individual, as well as to my Master, whom I wish to serve.

Let me serve you, Master, and let my service be pleasing in your sight.

P.S. In case you're wondering, Master was pleased with my last post.

MY MASTER IS COMING, MY MASTER IS COMING. The day will be here when Master arrives. I must make plans.

First of all I will arrive early at the airport, familiarizing myself with the area. I want to know the where Master will pick up his luggage, the route he will take from there to the front door and parking lot. Most importantly, I want to be there as soon as he walks in the door. I was unable to do that before, but this time I will be able to schedule things so that I can.

When Master enters, I intend to rush to him and hold him in my arms. I suppose I should try to steer us over to the side so we’re not in the way, because I intend to hold on to him tight. I don’t want to let him go! I will bury my face in his neck and just hang on until he pulls my face to his, and we share long, deep kisses. All I want to do is be in his arms.

Eventually, though our embrace will end. Master will look at me, and I hope that he is pleased with what he sees. I will spend much time considering what and how to dress. I expect to wear a spaghetti strap top with a pair of shorts, or better yet a short skirt, with heels to make my legs look sexy. I know Master likes me to go bra-less and panty-less, but he will also want me to look good. As a 45 year old woman, gravity has had its way, and things have started to sag without the right support. And, though I am not followed by the paparazzi, I don’t want to pull a Britney Spears. What I’ve got is for Master only! I hope, however, that the outfit I ultimately choose will please Master Bennet.

From the airport, we will go to a shop that sells used CDs and DVDs. Master and I both love that place! We will spend as much time there as Master wishes. I can even now feel my head on his shoulder as he browses the selections, sharing his finds with me, stopping occasionally to kiss and hold me before going back to the selections.

We will also stop to eat before going home. I like buffets with lots of choices, where I can fill up on veggies and eat smaller portions of meat and potatoes, but the choice, of course, will be Master’s. We will spend the evening where ever he wants to go, doing whatever he wants to do.

NOTE: These plans are all subject to change, dependant on Master’s wishes and whether or not I come up with a better idea.