grape seed

My spouse bought some red grapes, and they’re seedy.  I usually like soft foods, so to have a crunchy grape seed in my mouth, within the soft, sweet grape, is disturbing to me.  So I try to chew and eat the seed and not mind it, but I can’t.  I have to spit it out.

So I had this grape seed in my hand, and it looked beautiful to me.  Like my spouse’s balls.  I thought of grape seed oil, and how these seeds could be crushed and give a lovely light oil, good at higher temps.

Yes, I love oils.  Olive oil, coconut oil, butter, peanut oil, sesame oil.  The vitamin e oil I have, that I put a few drops of clove essential oil into.  It’s such a pleasure to use on the dry places of my skin–smells warm and stimulating, reminding me of clove times past.  Smoking clove cigarettes happily as a teenager.  Ritual I did last year on my birthday, with whole cloves.


This morning I massaged my spouse’s back.  He took off his shirt for me and lay on the bed, on his tummy.

“Does it hurt here?” I asked, touching his lower back.

“No,” he said.

“Does it hurt here?” I asked, touching his middle back.

“Yes,” he said.

“Does it hurt here?” I asked, touching his upper back and shoulders.

“No,” he said.

Wow, I was amazed.  My shoulders almost always hurt.

So I worked on his middle back, the muscles on either side of his spine.  I pushed with my lower palms and my knuckles, both sides at once, each side individually.  Up and down, closer to the spine and further away.

It felt so good to him, he made moaning sounds.  “Stop,” I said.  “Stop doing that.”  I didn’t want the men we live with to hear his moaning and get agitated, thinking it was sex.


I wanted to use massage oil, to help my hands glide better over his skin, but I know that’s challenging for my spouse.  He doesn’t like oils like I do.

“Is this too hard?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

I pushed, wanting to use my thumbs, but I could feel my own muscles ache from this love I was giving to him.

“Ok, let’s stretch,” I said.  So we stood by the bed, and I showed him how I stretch when those muscles hurt.

He made sleepy, half-assed movements.  “No, really stretch,” I said.  “Reach!  Reach!  This way!”  He made more effort.


“Ok, let’s do it again.  You want some more?”

“Yeah!” he said.  So he lay on his tummy again, and I did the same massaging on his middle back, pushing, breathing, praying my prayers.  Hoping I was doing more good than bad.

Then we stood together and stretched again.  I suggested twists also, and started singing that old song “The Twist.”  Take me by your little hand, and go like this.

Just now I asked him, “How’s your back?”

“It’s great!” he said.

So I feel happy.  He took a magnesium glycinate earlier too.


Love to grapes, grape seeds, vintners, massage, my spouse, my spouse’s back, touch, my own back and shoulders.  Love to Mother God who gives life to everything.  And to knowledge, experience, intention, intuition, consent, checking in, honesty, and all feelings.

Love to my spouse’s balls, all ball-havers, the beautiful places that create seeds, look like seeds, or soft comforting hanging luxurious desire-beauty.  Kisses to you.

By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

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