One Could Do Worse Than Be a Swinger Of Birches.

 I haven't been able to write anything in almost a week. How pathetic! So much for that goal of writing every other day. I have ideas. I have the time (because I'm not studying nearly as much as I should be.) I couldn't finish a story because I was getting stage fright. When I started writing, I didn't think anyone was going to look at this blog. Seriously. I never imagined people would be reading it and commenting on it. Now I'm not saying that I have a million readers a day, but I average about 200 a day. That scares me. That's a lot of people reading my stories and thoughts and ideas. But tonight I decided I'm going to take a deep breath and pretend no one is reading it. (This doesn't mean I want you to stop visiting and it really, really doesn't mean I want you to stop commenting.) 

Today, like a good student, I went to a coffee shop to study. I didn't take my computer. Just my books. I was focused. Flying through chapters. and then BAM. I came across the word birch. My brain instantly went from "student C" to "spanko C." All I could think of was a birching. I read a little farther and there was a whole paragraph of what birch (the herb) is used for. You will never guess what it said. 


                  Birch is used as an anti-inflammatory and a pain reliever. Good for joint pain. Applied topically to sores to aid in healing.           


Hmmm. That didn't seem right, so I grabbed my book about spanking implements that I just had laying around. What I read contradicted the first book. 


                 Birch is used as an inflammatory and a pain inducer. Not good for joints. Applied topically to bottoms to produce sores. 


I immediately wrote the editor of the 2nd book and pointed out that he was extremely wrong and birches needed to be removed from his farcical book of implements.

After I was finished thinking about the inappropriate birch, I started thinking about Robert Frost's poem, Birches. I love Robert Frost. Love is not the right word to use to describe my obsession with him. I'm considering changing this blog to "Naughty things I would like to do with/to Robert Frost." It's in his best interest (and mine) that he's dead. I like my permanent record the way it is- restraining order free. Anyway, I think Robert Frost enjoyed spanking. 
                                                 

Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.

Maybe it's just me, but it seems like that is a pretty good position in which to spank a naughty girl. 

One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

When I read the words "swinger of birches" I can't help but picture him, with his hair parted down the side, his kind eyes and his strong nose, swinging a birch rod through the air. I'm the one he's birching. He doesn't do it hard. I'm crying because I've disappointed him.

 After he birches me he gets me beautiful flowers and I wear my white gloves and we cuddle and nap on this adorable blanket. We move to London because he knows I've always wanted an English accent and we live happily ever after. 

The end.