I feel like I left you hanging with my pregnancy....

My daughter is now two and a half. This kid had stories before she even came out of the womb! She was conceived on our one year wedding anniversary during the Hurricane Sandy blackout.  I did not discover I was pregnant until we were 19 weeks in (no, I am not an idiot, I just have PCOS and a very irregular period). She then made her grand entrance into the world via emergency c-section 9 weeks early. Basically, to my knowledge, I was pregnant for 12 weeks. She is so smart, utterly adorable and amazes me nearly every single day.  She is also healthy, but her first year was pretty intense.  To put it succinctly, she was (is?) medically complex.

She was born with a birth defect that required three surgeries in her first year.  She was hospitalized four times and underwent full anesthesia four times before she was 7 months old. Her genetic anomaly is called Imperforate Anus and means that she was born with her tiny baby butthole sealed shut. Modern medicine and surgical techniques are truly miraculous because unless you caught sight of her colostomy scar, if I didn't tell you, you would never know.


Obligatory once a year check in post and oh yeah--I'm pregnant!

I have had this blog for a very long time.  My life has changed dramatically in the decade and six months since my first post.  I am married (to the chef I hauled pork fat back from Italy for) and currently pregnant with our first child.  I've been thinking of advertising for foot sessions--my feet have grown to a SIZE 13!!! It has been so long since I wrote like this I barely remember how. I'm trying to decide what topic to cover--the controversial nature of doing sessions while visibly pregnant? the amazing story of how/when I found out I was pregnant? According to the traffic logs, it looks like I still have readers, the question is what are you here looking for? And do I even provide that service these days...


Ancient History

I suppose I've made many "I'm baaaaack" posts, so I won't claim that I'll be blogging regularly again this time. After all the last time I actually was doing that it was 2005. However, I am around and about, taking niteflirt calls and the occasional session. But I came across the video linked below the other day. I can't even remember what year it is from, but it holds the distinction of being the only BDSM video I have ever made. It features Mistress Sade whom I just adore (in general and as a play partner) and I engaging in a bit of enthusiastic trampling. Enjoy!


Things Change...

I had a great time in San Francisco, but I'm a true New Yorker. I'm in South East Asia (yes, AGAIN!) through late April, after which I will be accepting appointments in NY again.


A Plan Is In Place!

Farewell NYC. In less than two weeks I'm headed to San Francisco! I've never been, but have been told most of my life that I would love it there, so...I'm going to try it out.


I never really left...

It just was most appropriate for me to have a low public profile. I've continued to play with a select few clients and friends but am once again ready to add to that roster. I'm excited about playing with new people and am quite curious what the current pro-scene is like. I spent most of the summer out of the US bouncing around Thailand (yes AGAIN--I do love it there!) and Indonesia. I may only be in NYC for a few months, I'll update as my travel plans coalesce. I know that I really am not interested in another cold NYC winter.


the next step

If you are reading this, you are someone I actually know and for some reason or another trust. My vanilla career path has led me to a place where Octavia may no longer exist on the internet. This is an exciting and wonderful time for me.


Really Fun Roof Photoshoot

So...Octavia Arena has returned! I am accepting sessions again. My hair is darker & shorter and I'm embracing the BBW tagline, however my legs are as muscular and strong as ever. I haven't had the chance to update the gallery on my site yet, but here are my favorites from last week's photo shoot.


Tastes like my childhood...

Earlier this evening a friend and I stopped by Russ & Daughters to pick up some caviar cream cheese. Something I missed deeply while I was living in Long Island. She happened to also order some pickled herring fillets in cream sauce. I asked for a bite and upon eating it, I literally exclaimed "This tastes like my childhood!" I'm sure I've blogged about sense memory before, but this experience made me think about what other flavors defined my childhood. The first to come up was chopped chicken liver. Guess those two tastes make it pretty clear that I was raised a New York Jew. Vanilla chocolate chip Italian ices are another one, and I guess that's about growing up on Staten Island (the origin of Ralph's Ices). This whole thought process made me wonder about other people's childhood food memories. I asked my house guest come roommate and her response was gingersnap cookies, her grandmother always had them around. My paternal grandmother always had coolwhip. My maternal grandmother always had tunafish salad, but it rarely reminds me of her. What flavors bring you back to being a little kid?


When the crazies find my blog...

So, after receiving a few stupid spam comments about viagra, etc, I changed my comments section to the "moderated" setting. That explains why sometimes you might leave a comment but it doesn't show up for a few days or ever at all. Yep, I can censor at will. When I received the alert that someone had commented on my last entry, I thought perhaps someone else had also read & loved The Help. Oh no. Not at all. Upon reading this comment I was just about to click the delete button, when I realized this was too insane not to share.


When a really good novel makes me want to write again...

I'm in the midst of a really, really good novel. The Help by Kathryn Stockett. It is one of those books that I'm enjoying so much, I'll sometimes put it down just because I don't want it to end. It also marks the first kindle book that I wish I'd purchased in "real book" form because I want it on my shelves. I currently am carrying about 20 ebooks around via the kindle app on my iphone. Some of them I would have purchased as actual books, but there's a few I probably would rather no one saw me reading. But this one is different. Sure there's a trace of my yankee white bleeding heart liberal upbringing that is angered by the subject matter (essentially the racist white southerners who hire black maids to raise their children & cook their food, but can't deign to share a bathroom with them), but I think this novel goes further than that. To a place or level of emotion that is universal. I was about 13 or 14 when I came up with the theory that at 2 o'clock in the morning, once everyone's usual social barriers are down, we can all relate to each other. And I was probably a bit older when I came up with my cheerleader broken nail theory. (ie: the tragedy of a broken nail for a cheerleader might be utterly laughable to anyone not quite so shallow, but that cheerleader's feelings about the situation are just as real and valid to her as anyone experiencing a "real" tragedy).

This novel reminds me why I had planned on being a writer for my entire childhood. I want to tell a story that hasn't been told before. I want to create characters that are so real they breathe right off of the page and people feel their struggles, triumphs and fear as if they were the closest of friends. I haven't written fiction in so many years that I almost changed the "wants" in the last sentence to "wanted". But the truth is that I do still want to write again. Someday. Yeah yeah I know, writers write. I guess I'm just a reader these days, but this novel makes me want to write.


Love and Pork Fat

The gift I brought back from Italy for my boyfriend was definitely not on the list of standard European knickknacks or souvenirs. While most people return from Italy with things like rosaries or these obnoxious aprons, I hauled 2 kilos of guanciale in my backpack. Yes, I carried around nearly 5 lbs of pork fat as a gift for my boyfriend. I wasn't sure it was the right choice until I gave it to him. He loved it. This is probably where I should mention, for those of you who don't know, that my beloved is a chef.

We are very happy together and our "rightness" for each other is proven over and over again in the most random ways. I don't recall if I mentioned this while I was blogging about the trip, but A & I got into the habit of taking "food porn" photos at nearly every meal. It was only once I downloaded my 600+ photos that I realized with faint embarrassment how many I had taken of food. When I showed my photos to my boyfriend, he not only was interested in my food pics, he berated me for not remembering some of the ingredients I had photographed! It was just one of those tiny things that make a relationship great. Who else would or could appreciate that my enduring memory of traveling Italy is the absolutely phenomenal food I ate daily?