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|• turn me on . .|
|mood » loving & sensual|
music » Maybe I'm Amazed ♪ Paul McCartney
:: Feet padded, rather softly, against the cold, tiled flooring, of the extremely large kitchen. A right arm extending, as her hand inched towards the single wine glass, that lay over the kitchen table, allowing fingertips to curl over it's flute. And, it was as her hand rose, bringing that wine glass' rim to pursed lips, that a sip of the delectable, Don Perignon, was taken. Her tongue enjoying the flavorful taste, that lingered within the expensive champagne. Nonetheless, once she'd finished indulging, within that fine delicacy, she lowered her hand, once more, and placed that wine glass upon the kitchen table, from where she had taken it. Locks of flowing, jet black strands of satiny, straight hair, brushed upon her shoulders, that which were adorned by a white, silk night robe, as she quickly turned, rather sharply, over the heals of her feet. Commencing her exit from the kitchen, as she padded feet down the hallway, right positioning before left, a sway emerging over the movement of her hips, as she walked.
She seemed to approach the door to the master bedroom, thick and sooty, black lashes, harboring her eyes of deep brown, as she peaked into the dim lit room. A pleasantly plastered smile, curling over suave, and pout lips, as she eyed her husband, from behind. He, whom seemed to be seated, over the antique, night stand chair, that lay to the right of the king sized bed, within their room. A book, that which seemed to be The Grapes of Wrath, by John Stienbeck, held in his fingertips. She couldn't help but stand by the bedroom door, and admire him, as he read. And, just as his eyes parted from the book he was so lost within, and glanced to her, she pursed her lips, blowing him a rather seductive, and loving kiss. That which was returned by a blown kiss, of his own.
It was then, after their obvious share of affection came to an end, that she took a side step, moving away from the master bedroom's door, and continued her walk down the corridor of bedrooms. Arms dangled at her sides, a cocoon to that hour glass frame, of a small waist, striking hips, swelled bosoms, and toned thighs. She certainly wasn't perfection, in version of a female figure, nonetheless, she didn't fall behind. Being a mother of two children, she was in better shape than women whom had yet to bear children, of their own. Not only that, she held a grasp of classical beauty, that was rarely seen, nowadays. Just as the rather famous poem, by the extremely famous poet, says "Men themselves have wondered, what they see in me. They try so much, by they can't touch, my inner mystery. When I try to show them, they say they still can't see. I say, it's in the arch of my back, the sun of my smile, the ride of my breasts, the grace of my style. I'm a woman, phenomenally."
Her tall frame seemed to approach the double doors, that led within, her husband's office. Both hands parted from her sides, as she approached the double, red oak, door frames. Hands, both right and left, griped over the brass door handles, as her elbows bent, and she pulled those double doors to an open. Her feet were quick to move, as she slipped between the double door's opening. Eyes searched within the dark office room, for the light switch, that lay to the right. Her right arm arose, hand caressing the wall that lay to her right, until fingertips stumbled upon the light switch. A shake of head, then emerged, as she lowered her hand from the switch, not having switched the light on, and waltzed over the wooden flooring of the room, towards the red oak, antique desk frame. Knees came to a bend, as she swiftly plummeted back, and over that plush, leather desk chair. Thick lashes dimmed over those eyes of doe, as she extended her left hand, her index finger tapping gently upon a random key, over the laptop's keyboard, that rested before her.
The touch of her fingertip, pressing softly upon the keyboard, triggered the laptop's screen to light up, quiet suddenly. A blank, update pop up, appearing over the screen before her, as eyes lingered their stare, over the blinking, and rather insistent cursor. It was then, that both hands, moved to rest, in the appropriate position, a trickle of sounds emerging, as fingertips, tapped softly, upon the plastic keys. ::
Where shall I even begin to explain myself? I've been rather careless, haven't I? I haven't given myself, even five minutes of time, to sit, and type up a sentence or two, to place here. The fact that I haven't had the time to express my thoughts, into words, and within my journal, should more than likely prove, how very busy I have been. It's incredible, the way life takes a person by storm. Within the past two months, I have attended over three movie premieres, ten charity events, and seven publicity events. Not only has my career, taken a large toll upon my time, but Carys and Dylan, my darling children, have been taking up much of my time, as well. Each and every day, they grow. They grow, they learn, and they bloom. Well, I never want to miss anything, not even a second, or their growth. I want to be around, for their every first. I want to be able to tell my grandchildren, that I wasn't off, attending a snobbish catered party, when Carys spoke her first word, or when Dylan rode his first two wheeler bicycle. I want to be able to say that I was around, that I was there. I want to be able to express how proud I was, of my little ones. And, at times, my career limits the time I am able to share with them, both. At times, I feel selfish. I feel selfish for giving birth to two, very precious children, knowing that my lifestyle, as a celebrity, may limit the time I can offer them. Nonetheless, I try. I really, do try. And Michael tries, as well. We want to be the best parents, for them. We want to be the perfect parents, for them. We want to be parents that they can claim to love, and cherish, and feel a bond with.
I believe that this realization of selfishness, came to me, during the time Michael and I, spent at our home in Majorca, Spain. Within these past few months, we spent a few weeks there, and decided that we would only bring Dylan, along with us. I must say, I felt so very horrible, fact being that my little newborn girl, wasn't with us. Am I a horrible mother, for leaving my little girl, at our Bermuda home, with her Nanny? I felt as if I was. And, perhaps, I still feel the same. I was strolling through the beautiful scenery, that surrounds the home that we own, in Majorca. Along with Michael, and Dylan. And, all the while, my little girl was in Bermuda, missing the motherly heat that I offer her, when I wake up, in the middle of the night, and carry her from her crib, and into my bed, with Michael and I. In fact, I feel ashamed. It's a horrible feeling, indeed.
A few days ago, I gave myself a few minutes, to sit down, and read over my last journal entry. I must admit, it was rather melodramatic, and awkwardly driven. How could I ever, doubt Michael's faithfulness? I feel stupid, for ever doing so. He loves me, so very much. And, whomever doesn't see the obviousness of it all, is nothing but an imbecile. Whom gives a bloody shit, if he's twenty-five years, my elder? Age is nothing but a number. And age, should never have to interfere, with the love that two souls, share. The comments that the media, enjoys making? About our age difference, and my supposed interest in his money, and career? Lies, all lies. I had money, and a blossoming career, when Michael and I married. When I stood at that altar, and vowed to love him, until death dare part us, I meant it. I wasn't in search of money, or fame. I was in search of a lifetime, with my soul mate, my second half, the oxygen that drives me, to go on, each and every day of my life.
You know, Michael wasn't the first man, that I had been involved with. As a matter of fact, I had been proposed to, before. I'd had intimate relationships with various men, as well. Nonetheless, when I met Michael, it was different. We were intrigued by each other, and perhaps, our passion for each other, is what drove us to love each other, so dearly. In the past, sex was nothing more than sex, to me. It was skin, rubbing against skin, with meaningless moans, and grunts. It was a big nothing. But, with Michael, it's different. I've never had sex, with Michael. I've never rubbed against him, carelessly. I've never whispered meaningless nothing's, into his ear. Again, I repeat, I've never had sex with Michael. All I have ever done, with Michael, is make love. Ladies and gentlemen, making love, is not the same thing, as sex. Making love, is an art. It's the art of expression, with the use of each other's bodies. It's an act, that two people, whom are in love, engage in. And, that is what Michael and I do.
:: The sound of typing, came to a pause, as fingertips caressed the laptop's keys, rather softly. Lashes seeming to lower over her eyes, as they harbored her view of the laptop's screen. It was then, that a full lane, of pearly whites, exposed from under her top lip, in order to bite down, gently, upon her bottom lip. Cheeks were flushed, a rouge tone, as she sat there, thoughts of what she had been attempting to explain, through way of her typing, fluttering her contemplation's. The mere thought of the acts that went on, within her and Michael's bedroom, caused her to blush, as the silk of her night robe, seemed to stick to her skin, due to the fact, that her words had caused her to grow heated, and perhaps, even sweaty. Certainly, the thought of a someone, that one loved, that very much, could do that to a person. And, Michael, he did that to her. He made her feel as if life, was a walk among the clouds. A fairy tale, of sorts.
It was then, that thick lashes flickered, over her eyes. The deep brown of her stare, glancing over the laptop's screen, as with one final caress of her fingertips, over the keys, her typing began, once more. A poem, that which was all too familiar to her, was then poured upon the laptop's screen, due to her flow of typing. ::
Messy itself in your fingers.
Tell me nothing needs to be done,
No clocks need winding.
There is no bell without a voice,
Needing to borrow my own.
Instead, let me steady myself,
In the arms of a man who won't ask me,
To be what he needs, but lets me exist.
As I am, a brunette flame, a hurricane.
Wrapped up, in a tiny body,
That will come to his arms,
Like the safest harbor for mending. "
Should I sit here, and explain what I have been up to, in detail, these past few months, during my absence from my journal? I don't know. Nonetheless, what I do know, is that sitting here, and typing passionate, love filled words, of my husband, and small family, feels like so much more, of a better thing to do. These have been, two extremely busy months. Filled with press, and paparazzo's. And, yes, I enjoy the fanciful outings, during which I am given the opportunity, to greet my fans. Nonetheless, it is my choice, to fill my journal entries with emotions, rather than explanations, of where I have been, what I have done, and what I have attended. On the other hand, I will end this entry, with the follow: The other day, as I was giving Carys and Dylan a bath, Dylan began splashing his arms, and making little waves, within the tub. All the while, my little Carys, was attempting not avoid drowning, under the little waves, Dylan's splashes were creating. That's his new thing, now. Making waves in the tub. And, I have to say. I rather be the wife that Michael deserves, and the mother that my children deserve, watching as my little boy, makes tiny waves, in the tub, while his sister and he are bathing, rather than attend a movie premiere, any day, and without a second thought.
With love, and all that jazz, Catherine.
|3 • turn me on . .|
|mood » emotional & worried|
music » Don't Know Why ♪ Norah Jones
I don't know what I've done wrong, or what it is that may be wrong with me. I wish I could sit here, and explain it, explain exactly what it is that may be wrong. If I knew, I'd apologize for it, over and over again. It's a horrid feeling, thinking you may have done something wrong, something in error, and not having the slightest idea of what it may be. If I even had a clue at what it is that may be wrong, I'd immediately admit to it, it would be the mature thing to do. Nonetheless, I have been left clueless, as well as dumbfounded, as to what it is that may be wrong. I can't take it, and perhaps this is simply an over lapse of emotions, but it disturbs me more then it should. Or so, I believe it does. I've never cried of sadness, not since the very moment I met Michael. Nonetheless, I am doing so, right now. And it feels horrid, completely and utterly horrid.
:: A right hand rose from it's position over the laptop's keyboard, brushing it's way across her left cheek, in a harsh manner, almost as if she had grown spiteful, and angered. Those crystalline tears had been swiped from her cheek, nonetheless, the more she brushed them away, the more tears would water over her eyes of deep brown, and begin a stream down her expression. Her lips, that which rested within a soft, naturally pinkish tone, curled in the opposite direction of a smile. Her cheeks grew a rosy tone, as she blushed in anger, and resentment. Her thoughts were perturbing her, her contemplation's were cut short by her tears, and her emotional assumptions were getting the best of her, only to turn into the worst of her. ::
Michael hasn't touched me. For the past week, he has not laid a hand on me. And if anything, that is what is worrying me. Have I done something wrong? Have I lost my appeal? Is there someone else? No, there couldn't be. I would have noticed, by now. And, he'd never do that to me. He has sworn it, time and time again. If it were another woman, it would have shown, by now, in one way or another. If it were another woman, I would have rung his neck, by now. He has always been so devoted to me, and he still is. Nonetheless, I have tried, tried to tickle his fancy, in any way possible. And, what happens? He is tired, or he has to paper work to do. Or, if it's in the morning, he has to go for a golf meet. I don't know what is wrong, or what has gone wrong, but I am more than sure that it has something to do with me. And I want to fix it, I do. It's been a week since him and I have shared a moment of intimacy. The closest I have gotten, is a single kiss. Perhaps, I am over reacting. I have to remember that we are twenty-five years apart, in age. Nonetheless, that has never held Michael back, that has never been a problem. Never, ever.
Before I showered, earlier last night, I stood in front of the mirror, completely nude, at my best attempts to spot if anything was wrong. And then, I remembered what Michael had told me, so very long ago. "I don't love you, because you're attractive. You're attractive, because I love you. I don't make love to you, because you're attractive. I make love to you, because I love you." So, what is the reasoning behind this past week? I don't know. All I know is that it makes me feel insecure, a feeling I have never come across, before, since the day Michael and I met. Darling, touch me, hold me, I need it. I long for it.
With love, and all that jazz, Catherine.
|4 • turn me on . .|
|mood » peaceful & determined|
music » When I Fall In Love ♪ Chet Baker
:: A tedious sigh erupted from between those twin lanes of pout flesh, her lips. That which had been tainted, a rouge hue, due to her early morning application of lipstick. Nonetheless, the embrace of her slender arms remained, tight and snug, over the small bundle of joy that was wrapped in a white, and cotton knit, soft blanket. The bundle of joy, whom was it? Her month old daughter, Carys. So, she held the little one in arms, she wasn't embarrassed, not even in the slightest, at the fact that she was, indeed, topless. Her Coca Cola bottle shaped figure was clothed by a pair of black satin, pajama pants. No more, no less. Her paired, supple breast, were completely exposed. And her right breast was being suckled upon, by her daughter's hunger filled lips. What was she doing? What do you think? Breast feeding her newborn child. So, as Carys took that very last gulp of warm, nature's milk, she shifted the little one's weight, from her right arm, to her right shoulder. Her left hand rose, patting softly against the newborn's back, allowing the little one to burp the bit of gas her stomach may be retaining. One burp came about, and then another. And with that, she shifted her child's weight, holding her in a tender hug, both arms wrapped around the petite child's body. Her feet moved, right before left, as she walked within her bedroom, and towards the small roller crib that lay at her bed side. Her back slouched towards the crib, as she lay the small bundle, Carys, within the roller crib. Thick and sooty, black lashes, moved tiresomely over the swell of her brown eyes, as she then straightened her back, her neck turning to allow her a glance towards Michael, he whom lay, between the white satin sheets of the seemingly comfortable, king sized bed. Her arm extended, her stand shifting, a bit, as she gripped hold of the black satin, spaghetti strapped pajama top, that lay tossed over the bed. Taking the silk pajama top in hands, both arms raised, slipping their way into the top. And as her arms lowered, slowly, the top slid down, and over her upper crust of body, covering her small bits of chest. A sharp turn then emerged over her stand, as she walked her way past the double doors of her bedroom, where her husband and daughter lay, moving her way down the hallway, and past her son, Dylan's room. Her movement led her towards the double doors of Michael's office. And as she walked within the office, eyes of brown glanced over the small Powerbook. Lashes flickered over her eyes, as she stared towards the lit, laptop screen. Feet moving, right before left, as she grew close to the leather desk chair, that lay behind Michael's oak, wooden desk. And as her knees bent, she seated herself, legs crossing at her ankles, as her right hand positioned over the small laptop mouse. A click or two leading her to a blank, journal entry, update screen. Both hands then moved over the laptop's keyboard, fingertips positioning over the appropriate keys, as she began to type. ::
I believe that I have forgotten to mention the fact that I am finally home, in Bermuda. Dylan is so glad to be home, once again, and near his favorite toys. He's grown fond of Harry Potter, and, as of last week, he has been glued to his television set, watching Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets, all week long. He is so very precious, it melts my little heart, each and every time he rants on and on about how he wants to buy a pair of glasses, so that he may look similar to the movie's main character, Harry. Isn't that the cutest thing? It is, he is the cutest thing.
I had something pointed out to me, earlier today, and it has been haunting my thoughts, all night, and morning long. I was having a lengthy phone conversation, with a dear friend, and they told me something along the lines of "Your life is so perfect, there is never anything wrong." Is it true? I suppose it is, I suppose I lead a life where troubles don't come about as often as they do in the lives of others. I don't know if that causes my life to seem dull, or boring. Nonetheless, I do know one thing, I adore my family, I adore Michael, and my children. I'd rather die a thousand deaths, then live a life without them. I love my life, and the people within it. Leading a life that seems close to perfection, does not bother me. And, if my life bothers anyone? Tough luck.
I should probably mention how very worried I am, concerning Brittany's well being. The poor girl is dealing with so much, and has been given so little in return. She is carrying a child, and all the while, her child's father seems to be threatening her. How dare he? That is my two cents of the matter, how dare he even think of threatening to take away the child she is going to give birth to? I can't even bring myself to understanding the mentality behind such an act, such as threatening a woman, who's emotions are at an all time high, due to her pregnancy. Well, I all ready mentioned this to Brittany, over the phone, and I will place it here, as a reminder. If she needs anything, anything at all, I will be here, to support her. Not only I, but Michael as well. After all, Brittany and Michael did star in a film together, Don't Say A Word. And so, if she needs legal advice, personal advice, emotional advice, money, anything at all, Michael and I will be here, to assist her with her every move. Oh, I know this is a bit out of the blue, nonetheless, did I mention that my assistant loaded a new journal layout, for me? Isn't she a doll? She is, always has been.
With love, and all that jazz, Catherine.
|4 • turn me on . .|
|mood » romantic & dreamy|
music » A Love For Life ♪ Yani
:: A slender right arm arose, parting from the bed's mattress, and gripping hold onto her husbands arm, softly, and gently moving his arm off, and from it's embrace over her. Her head of lengthy, jet black tendrils, then parted from it's lean over her husband's chest. The beat of his heart no longer striking against her ear. That Coca Cola bottle shaped cocoon of milky white skin, hovered under the soft white satin of her laced, expensive lingerie, slithered, cautiously, from the king sized bed. And as she stood, parting from beside her husband, thick and sooty lashes of black, fluttered in a sultry fashion, over her eyes of deep and alluring brown. Bare feet, just about a size eight and a half, planted quietly over the red oak wooden paneled flooring of the bedroom. And so, she tip toed her way past the double doors, moving her way down the carpeted hallway. Hips swayed in their naturally shapely movement, right then left, right then left. Feet positioned, right before left, right before left, and so on, in the form of quiet footsteps, until the curvature figurine, her body, finally reached the double doors that led into her husband's top floor office. A right hand moved, parting from her side, to push against the closed, double doors. And with the delicate push of her hand, the doors creaked to an open. Pout and plump lips of soft, rose hue, parted. Allowing a minty breathed yawn to escape the capture of her tiers. And as she moved her way past the door, she approached the leather bound desk chair, seating herself quite comfortably, and crossing her legs at her ankles. A left hand moved to open the brand new PowerBook's latch, the lit screen now viewable to those piercing eyes of brown, as right handed fingertips moved over the laptop's keyboard, so that only moments later, the blank and empty journal posting screen, was visible to her sight. And so, as both hands then positioned over the correct keys, she began, typing random things, that which may seem like utter nonsense to others, but was so very important, to her. ::
I know I made a rather long journal post, a mere three to four hours ago. Nonetheless, I was laying in bed, snug between my husband's arms, and a memory came to mind. A lovely memory that I simply had to come, and express within this journal of mine. Well, on Michael and mine's very first date, Michael invited me into his home, that which is now one of our many homes. Nonetheless, it wasn't for the reason you may be thinking of. Michael simply wanted me to show him that I could really tap dance. So, being that the home has hardwood floors, he led me into the bathroom. The bathroom floor was, and still is, made of ceramic tiles. So, Michael sat on the toilet, and I stood before him, tap dancing, in the middle of the very large bathroom. Isn't that bloody insane? On our very first date, I was tap dancing, in a bathroom, for him. You know, I must have fallen head over heals that very night, I tapped my little heart out.
With love, and all that jazz, Catherine.
|5 • turn me on . .|
|mood » loving & thoughtful|
music » Wherever You Are ♪ Celeste Prince
I'd like to start off by apologizing for my lack of journal updates. It has been a horribly busy, ten days, for Michael and I. We have been on the go, non stop, jam-packed with projects, premieres to attend, and other things. I have barely had enough time to enjoy my little ones. Dylan is still adapting to the changes, being that he now shares the attention Michael and I had, completely devoted to him, with Carys. I have been taking out a few minutes, each and every day, in order to make him feel just as special as he did, before Carys' birth. I'd never want him to feel as if things have changed for him, he will always be my little boy. He is the first child, my first child, the very first creation of love between Michael and I, and that is something I treasure, very much so. I can still remember the way he reacted when he began to see that my body was changing, during my pregnancy. He would rub my swelled stomach, and casually say "Nice baby." And then, during my eighth month of pregnancy, when I brought my Oscar home, he asked Michael and I if that was the baby. Heh, what an adorable imagination, what a beautiful grasp of innocence he has. He melts my heart.
Carys is on her way to solid foods. It's been two days and a month, since the day of her birth, and Michael, just as he did with Dylan, is attempting to be the brave father, and feed her solids. I, on the other hand, continue to breast feed her, as often as possible. Diaper changes are now becoming less and less appealing. Yes, on the other hand, Michael is very handy with changing diapers, he is quite the expert. And, I enjoy seeing him change her, especially when she wiggles her legs about, and dips either one of her feet into her dirty diaper. It's so adorable, watching the look on Michael's face when something like that happens. My darling little girl, she is growing so quickly, and it's only been a month since her birth. I keep thinking that in the blink of an eye, she'll be five years of age, and I will no longer be changing her diaper and breast feeding her, instead, I'll be dressing her for her first day of school.
School, Dylan will be off to school, soon. Two more years, and my little boy will be walking into a world of critics, his school peers. You know, children are the most blunt critics, and I fear for Dylan. I fear that he won't lead a normal life, and Michael and I are the ones to blame. So, I have been looking for a well credited school, near our home in Bermuda, that Dylan will be able to attend. I sent two school applications out, last month. Hopefully, as soon as I get a notice in the mail, from both schools, in return, Michael and I will be able to go in for a meeting with the school directors, in order to see which of the two schools it is that we feel would be the best school of attendance, for little Dylan. I know Michael and I are planning far ahead, I mean, we have two years, and a few months, until it is that Dylan has to actually begin attending school. Nonetheless, I like to be prepared, ahead of time, especially when it comes to my little ones. I want them to always feel comfortable, and safe. Time is one of the only things that ever really creates the feeling of a safe and comforting atmosphere, in my opinion.
Well, as I mentioned before hand, the past few days have been extremely hectic, for Michael and I. Michael has had so many things to tend to, and I myself have had a week to prepare myself for my first outing, since the birth of little Carys. On the fourteenth of this month, and through the sixteenth, Michael and I had to attend his Michael Douglas & And Friends golf tournament, as well as the live and silent auction. The tournament and auction were both hosted at the Caesar's Palace and Cascata Golf Course, in Las Vegas, Nevada. I myself did not attend the first two days of Michael's program. I decided to stay in, and dedicate my time to Dylan and Carys, as we enjoyed the very lovely suite room that Michael booked for us, at the Caesar's Palace. Nonetheless, I was present during the last day of his program, that which was the day of the live and silent auction. It was my first day out, and in the eyes of the press, since the birth of Carys. I must admit, I felt like a nervous wreck. Nevertheless, with Michael by my side, my hand held in his, the day went perfectly, as I had planned. The press had a field day, photographs were being taken, everywhere. Bloody hell, I was blinded with cameras, really. And, well, the auction was a big success. All the money raised during the days of Michael's program, will be donated to the Motion Picture and Television Fund. I am so proud of Michael and his accomplishments, so very proud.
I hadn't been too happy about having to fly from New York, where Michael and our little family were, to Nevada, for the Michael Douglas & Friends golf tournament and auction. Nonetheless, I couldn't exactly sit there and complain. Especially since I would, as well, have to take another plane, with my little family, from Nevada to Hollywood, California, in order to attend the Hollywood premiere of Michael's new film, The In-Laws. The premiere was held at the Cinerama Dome theater, on the nineteenth of this month, a mere three days ago. And, just as the press had done the day of the auction, I was blinded with cameras, once again. And, this time as well, I had Michael by my side, as well as his father, Kirk, Michael's stepmother, and mother. His parents are lovely people, very down to earth, and completely jubilant. Kirk is head over heals with Dylan and Carys, I've never seen a more joyful grandfather before, in my entire life. Cameron, Michael's son, of his previous marriage, was also present. Cameron is darling, and thank God, him and I get along perfectly. And, well, he also calls me "Mom."
The premiere was glorious, and Michael decided to flash the first official picture of our little one, Carys, during the premiere. Well, as you can only imagine, the picture has been on each and every entertainment channel, since the day of the premiere. Nonetheless, it is so very comforting to turn on the television, and see something positive being shown, of Michael and I, as opposed to negative, even if it is a bit obsessive of the press. The pictures that are being flashed, from entertainment channel to entertainment channel, of Michael holding me in one arm, and the picture of Carys in his free hand, with a gleeful smile on his face, causes butterflies to flutter within my stomach. Speaking of stomachs, that reminds me of a very funny detail. During our walk on the red carpet, an entertainment news channel stopped Michael and I, as all the entertainment news channels that were there did, and questioned me as to when they could be expecting a third addition to the lovely little family Michael and I have created, through our many acts of love. Well, it was quite amusing, if I may say so myself. It has only been a month and two days since the birth of Carys, and the press is all ready questioning as to when Michael and I plan on having our third child. Heh, I am still getting over the past nine months!
Well, on Tuesday, the day after Michael's movie premiere, his parents and we, had ourselves a lovely dinner, and that night, rather late, I spoke to Justin on the phone. The poor darling, he is ill, indeed. Well, being that I was in the area, and that he is being hospitalized at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, the same hospital in which I gave birth to little Dylan, I decided to pay him a visit. It was rather late, nonetheless, Michael stayed home with Carys, and I ran off to see Justin. I snuck my way into the hospital, with Dylan in arms, and treated Justin to a doggie bag of delicatessen, Welsh cookies. That poor darling, I only hope his operation goes well. He is so very talented, music wise, and golf wise, as well. Golf, everyone knows I love golf, just as much as Michael does. And, well, Justin and I share a love for the sport.
I have been contemplating, lately. My life seems to be one gift after another, and at times, I fear that this fairy tale of a life that Michael and I hold, will wither away. Nonetheless, I have come to a conclusion. No matter what happens down the road, no matter where I end up, or how I end up. As long as I have Michael, and my two children by my side, my life will continue to be the fairy tale that it is today. I don't need the money, I don't need the fame, and I don't need the career. Michael, Dylan, and Carys are my entire life. Everything else is just a bonus.
With love, and all that jazz, Catherine.
|• turn me on . .|
|mood » loving & fragile|
music » When I Fall In Love ♪ Chet Baker
Angelina, you are the biggest gift Maddox will ever hold in hands. Love him, because he needs you. He needs you, like the sun needs the moon during it's daily orbit. That lovely boy is very intelligent, and he has grasped onto such knowledge, from what it is he sees in you. Not only are you his mother, but you are his father as well. I applaud you for that, a million times, and more so. Here is your gift, beautiful friend of mine.
Brittany, you are a mother. Know that, believe it, hold that truth within you. Just as you hold that little joy within you, these months that are to come. They may be harsh, at times, but all will pay off, once that little piece of you is in your arms. Here is your gift, and a gift for the baby, be it a girl or boy, every child needs to have a rattle. It's very first rattle.
Natalie and Nicole, you two very talented woman, deserve a standing ovation, for the love you express towards your children. I would have purchased ASDA gift certificates for the both of you, being that your love for the store is quite obvious. But, is there such a thing as ASDA gift certificates? Well, here are your gifts. A necklace for Natalie, and a matching necklace for Nicole.
Last, but certainly not least, I have always felt that there are many, many men in this world, that not only act as fathers, but as mothers, all at the same time. So, my darling husband, Michael. Today is your day as well. Happy Mother's Day, my love. Because, when I am filming, you are the father and mother of our children. Here is your gift, darling. I love you, with every breath of my being.
With love, and all that jazz, Catherine.
|12 • turn me on . .|
|mood » irritated & romantic|
music » Where Do I Begin ♪ Shirley Bassey
I feel like a lock in, within my own home. For the past three weeks I have been at home, lacking the ability to step outside and feel the sun hit my eyes. How am I to go outside, when there are still many, many photographers, camping outside of my home? Michael and Dylan step out every morning, they go for breakfast at a local cafe, and bring me back something healthy to feast on. But, as for going out, myself? None of that, at all. It is so very frustrating, the fact of the matter being that these photographers want a million and one photographs, only to plaster on the front cover of the magazine they work for. Well, you know what? I will not allow it! They were all ready daring enough to snap a shot or two of Carys and I, the day I was allowed to go home from the hospital, why more? Oh, bloody hell, just leave me be, damned photographers!
As of recently, I have spent countless hours on the phone with my lawyers, Lavely & Singer. Michael and I decided to place legal action against The Smoking Gun. The Smoking Gun is the website that posted pictures of Michael, Dylan and myself, without any form of permission. On the other hand, our threat of legal action has to do with the fact that the pictures were surreptitiously taken. I swear to the heavens, I think that the media has lost the bit of ethics it once bestowed. How dare they shoot pictures of Michael, Dylan and myself, especially under such circumstances? If you have yet to see the pictures that are being argued over, I will not hesitate to describe them to you. I am not ashamed of them, at all. I am simply heated at the fact that they were taken and put up on that website in order, and with intention of taking a negative stab at my career. And, you know what? I won't allow that, either.
The pictures were taken, with a long lens, during my time at my home in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. In the pictures, being that they took many more then one, those bastard, I am shown topless. I am not ashamed of that, why should I be? I do sun bathe topless in the privacy of my home. There is no such crime in doing so! More so, of those pictures in which I am pictured alone, I am also pictured with a cigarette in hand. Nevertheless, my choice to smoke during my pregnancy is a choice that should be of concern to Michael and I, alone. No one else is to intrude in what I did or didn't do during my pregnancy. Even more so, the cigarettes that I did smoke during my pregnancy, caused no harm to Carys, being that they are Herbal Cigarettes! Herbal Cigarettes are a product that Michael, my lovely husband, came across. Herbal Cigarettes and smoking mixtures are nicotine-free, as well as tobacco-free. Michael purchased them for me, in order to help me put a pause to my casual smoking of Marlboro Lights. Yes, I smoke, casually, no crime in that, either.
Well, aside from that, which has seemed to be taking a toll on my contemplation's, I should mention that I was chosen, by form of a survey that was taken by many women of the United Kingdom, as the "epitome of health and beauty." If anyone is interested in reading one of the many articles that have to do with the survey, you can do so, here. Now, I must say, I am honored to know that women of the United Kingdom feel that I look healthy, as well as beautiful. And, I must add to that, in saying that I feel healthy, by all means of the word. After giving birth to Carys, and with the fact of the matter being that I have not been given the opportunity to step out of my home, since the day I was given the chance to go home from the hospital, I have given my entire attention to my daughter, son, and husband. Not only that, but I have placed myself under a rigorous plan of exercise, in order to loose the pounds I gained during my pregnancy. I am almost back to my original size! That being something I am quite proud of. I gained two dress sizes during the pregnancy, nonetheless, that is understandable, of a pregnant woman. As of now, I have dropped one of the dress sizes that I gained. One more dress size to go, and then I can jump back onto the bandwagon of fine red wine, and delectable meals that I have always loved.
If you were watching Access Hollywood tonight, you know that Michael and I were chosen as Access Hollywood's sixth hottest couple. I must say, Michael and I do charm a room when we are together, don't we, love? That reminds me, if in the near future, the press claims that there may be a third addition to our clan of Douglas children, it may be true. Michael and I, we waste no time in the bedroom! As blunt as this may seem to many of you, I find that the act of making love to my dear husband, is nothing but utter bliss. I love him, very much so, and that is all that matters to me.
Also, another headline that I must speak of, is the fact that I was also chosen as one of People Magazine's "Most Beautiful People." That is yet another headline that I feel honored to be part of, nevertheless, the biggest honor that I will be receiving this month, is tomorrow. Mother's Day is tomorrow, and I, being a mother of two, feel nothing but utter joy, at the thought of it all. Hmm, I can't help but wonder what Michael has up his sleeve, in celebration of tomorrow. He is always so extravagant when it comes to American holidays.
With love, and all that jazz, Catherine.
|5 • turn me on . .|
|mood » romantic & joyous|
music » The Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me ♪ Gladys Knight
I woke up, quite early this morning. After breast feeding Carys, and checking to see that Dylan was still by his father's side, sleeping peacefully, I logged onto one of Michael's laptops. The one located in his downstairs office. Well, I decided to use the bit of creativity I had, roaming about my head, and created a new layout for myself. Don't ask me how I did it, I just did, and I am still surprised with the results. The layout is based on the song I danced with Michael, at our wedding. The Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me by Gladys Knight. That is my very favorite song in the entire world, indeed. So, I suppose this layout is here in dedication to my husband, Michael, as well as my two children, Dylan and Carys. Oh, how I love them, so very much.
With love, and all that jazz, Catherine.
|6 • turn me on . .|
|mood » complete & romantic|
music » The End of August ♪ Yani
I have finally rounded myself up in order to sit here and type a lengthy entry as to how I, as well as my family, have been this past week. With the birth of little Carys, on early Sunday morning, April twentieth, the past week has been nothing but visits from family members, friends, and acquaintances. Carys is lovely, she was born at four fifty, Easter Sunday, at Valley Hospital in Ridgewood, New Jersey. Michael and I felt that it would be proper to have me deliver her in New Jersey. It's far more private then New York, and Michael, after all, was born in New Jersey, so Carys would be following in her father's stately footsteps. Nonetheless, the delivery was a quick one. Painful, but quick. Michael was made aware of my contractions at about two in the morning, that Easter Sunday. And by four fifty that same morning, I had my little girl in arms. She's so darling, and fragile. She has her father's dimpled chin, just as Dylan has, a Douglas trademark, indeed. Although, Michael insists that she seems to look a whole lot more like me.
It was so beautiful, laying there, leaving all sense of the tremendous amount of pain aside, and giving birth to life. Giving birth to something that is a part of me, and a part of one of the people I love the most within this world, Michael. We had known for quite some time that it would be a girl, nevertheless, Michael and I had decided to keep it a secret. We didn't want the press to find out, at all. So, we didn't tell anyone, and my doctor did sign a confidentiality agreement. So, thankfully, no one knew but Michael and I. Not until the moment little Carys was born. We even kept it a secret from Kirk, Michael's darling father.
Well, everyone has been questioning me as to why Michael and I decided to name her Carys Zeta Douglas, and not just Zeta Douglas. Well, in Welsh, Carys derives from the word caru, which in Welsh, means "to love." Carys was made during an act of love, Michael and I strongly believe that, just as Dylan was. I suppose we felt the name was appropriate for what it is that Michael and I feel for each other, as any other married couple should. It is a lovely, and quite traditional, Welsh name. And Zeta, as some know, is my grandmother's first name, as well as my middle name. I thought I would also have Carys carry on my grandmother's name as a middle name, just as I have. My grandmother was quite pleased with the news that Michael and I had decided that Carys' middle name would be Zeta, quite pleased.
Well, my mother and father, David and Pat, flew in from Swansea, two days ago. They have been here, enjoying Carys to the fullest of their extent, as grandparents. I have been home for quite a few days now, and having them here is a pleasure, indeed. My parents are so very dear to me, I can't even find the proper words to express my love for them. Having them here is nothing but a blessing.
You know, at times I feel as if my life has been nothing but one enormous gift from God. My marriage to Michael, the birth of Dylan, Chicago, the recent birth of Carys. I feel as if I am going to wear out God's gift, any minute now. I have a profound protection instinct for my little ones, as well as for Michael. I look at them now, and for the first time in my life, I have something that I would do as much as I possibly can to protect, and preserve, and nurture.
I don't take anything in my life for granted. I was mellowed to the fact that, having been blessed with so many things, maybe I would miss out on love. But when I met Michael, and when I look at him now, I just run around like a little girl. I still remember what Michael's first words were, to me. He told me he would like to be the father of two or three of my children, someday. And I remember what I told him in response. I told him "Michael, I've heard a lot about you, and it's so inspiring to know that everything is absolutely true." And look at me now, a week and a few days after giving birth to his second child. I swear to everything I know, destiny must be on my side this lifetime. I love Michael, so very much. And I adore my Dylan, and my Carys. They are the breath that keeps me going, they are my everything.
With love, and all that jazz, Catherine.
|2 • turn me on . .|