Naked Revolutionary? Nah. Just a Girl Who Likes Her Naked Time.

Naked stories are sometimes the funniest. Naked is great. Some people fear the naked, when really, they should embrace it. They probably wouldn't be wound so tight if they indulged in it liberally every now and again.

If you don't understand the liberty and freedom that comes from the wild abandon that is naked time, I'm telling you now, this is not the story for you.

Post shower in a grand show the best of nudists would have appreciated and the worst of church ladies would have been horrified by, I ran down two flights of stairs to collect some very recently dried, and still warm delicates.

Beloved was downstairs in full decorum, and teaser that I am, I harassed him with pinching fingers and a naked dance that should never, ever be caught on video.

Gentleman that he is, and as time was ticking and there were many errands yet to be run, he stepped away. But-- I would not be thwarted and so he extended his arm and pushed slightly against my shoulder...indignant at being handled so "roughly" I said:

T: What if I fell down and hurt myself just now?
J: Well, I'd cover you up with a towel before I called the authorities.
T: Don't call the authorities, just call an ambulance.
J: I'll tell them some story of how you were dancing around and ran up the stairs to do some kind of Madonna move and you fell down.
T: On the guerney, under my towel, I'll take out my arms and say weakly (while doing the John Travolta Saturday Night Fever disco move) "Like a virgin-heyy!" as they roll me away.
J: Surprised laughter: You can't do that! That will reflect on me!
T: Laughing: Oh I'm all about giving people life stories to tell. Go big or go home! And that's a story those paramedics would be telling for the rest of their lives!

Always thinking of others, that's me. ;)

"Being naked approaches being revolutionary; going barefoot is mere populism." -- John Updike
I'm a populist revolutionary then...barefoot, naked, barefoot and naked...it all works out.

Epic Fail

HAH!
"You can't place faith in material things. Material things will fail you."
Thank you Machines of Loving Grace...I should have listened.

X. System of a Down. Rage Against the Machine. Limp Bizkit. Against Me. The Clash. The Offspring. +44. CKY. Drive-By Truckers. Everclear. The Misfits. Nine Inch Nails. Rammstein. The Rasmus. Stabbing Westward...

What do they have in common? They all numb and take the pain away...just enough to take the edge off while you cope.

"What drama now?" You may wonder...well...truly it was calamitous.

My external hard drive had an epic fail. Epic as in irreversible, not retrievable, massive amounts of data lost. I know, I know...only as a back up right? Yeah...well there always ends up being something on there that doesn't exist anywhere else. And even if it's not the only place, to recollect the data, what a pain in the ass.

I should have just left that little damn silver box downstairs on the main computer...which is still non-functional. I shouldn't have thought "Oh hey, why recreate the wheel? I believe I have already prepared a presentation on mentoring...it's a few years back while at another company, but I can tweek it to fit the new corporation." Right? Wrong.

I should have let it be. I should have recreated the wheel. I should have done the work from scratch, because then I would still be in complete and total blissful ignorance and my presentation would be done. I wouldn't be listening to System of a Down...devil music by the way...trying to focus and get this crap done at 11 p.m. When I had hoped to be in bed by 10 p.m. tonight...you know...big day and all tomorrow.

Instead...here I sit...pissed off, upset--devastated really, teary, smeared mascara and burning eyes, all while trying to focus and think about "How to be a Positive Role Model."

With the adult words that ran through my head and are still making the periodic appearance...I am not a stellar example right now...unless it is a most excellent specimen of what a human being looks like when they are thinking about the voluminous amounts of data that are now lost, or need to be scrounged back from old cds and zip discs and old camera memory cards...oh yeah kids...it's a bad task I have ahead of me.

Maybe I should just pretend like they all caught on fire and are irretrievable. Maybe I just start it over from scratch.

Recouping it professionally is some ridiculous amount of money--$1500 or something outrageous...not because that's the actual price...it's just the highway robbery that they can charge because some people are desperate enough to pay for it.

This whole episode, aside from puking, makes me want to go back to typewriters, notebooks, and film. What a mess.

I've been periodically weeping over the keyboard like a broken hearted child. Dammit doesn't cover it. Stabbing self in own eye, not satisfying nor productive. Not having good luck with computers this summer. Need a sugar daddy to buy all new equipment...I make excellent Brazilian food...any takers?

Shit.

God is in the Stars That Sparkle and Shine

Some stars twinkle more than others--flashing their pretty selves at you from side to side trying to catch your eye--making you pause to wonder if they are a satellite or a star. When they remain unmoved you wonder what fire dance is taking place in the distant universe.

I took out the trash, and like almost always, I looked up and reveled in the dark and flecked with light night. The copse of trees across the road and behind the neighbors house is rustling and rushing with a summer night breeze. It is the same breeze that dances along the back of my neck.

I feel refreshed after cleaning the evening up in my warm kitchen. Making lunches, washing dishes, putting food away. Wiping down counters and pushing in chairs, listening for laundry in the washer to be done.

I hear the tick-tick-tick and the whoosh of water of the sprinklers two houses down and suddenly a small dog's yapping on the street somewhere behind me.

I look up and the Big Dipper is huge and hangs low in the sky. The grand "W" that is Cassiopeia must not be up yet. The night is too young for her Highness to grace us with her presence just yet.

I look again and I swear that is Mars. Beloved would know for sure. He loves that saucy red planet. I'm positive that is who I see. I give it a little wink of my own.

I look towards the Southern sky and if I had blinked a moment sooner or later I would have missed the thrill of the sight of a streak of a cheery shooting star. They never lose their delight. Anytime I see them, that same fluttery thrill of childhood bolts across my stomach and into my chest. "A shooting star! A shooting star! I see it! I see it! Did you see it?"

I look around taking it all in. Our huge Honey Locust tree standing sentinel to our home. Cheery porch lights lighting the walkway and the driveway. The quiet of neighbors homes, some with lights, some not. Far to the South I can see the orange glow of Salt Lake City, and in the night sky I see several satellites making their way across the night and around the world. I crane my head back, the back of my head touching the back of my neck and I open my eyes wide to take in as much of this glorious night sky as possible.

Our solar system is gigantic, let alone the humongous universe that it is in. And here we are, these little human creatures on this beautiful blue and green planet.

Snoring as a Family

12:15 am, the bedroom is dark, I am in bed watching The Empire Strikes Back and messing around with Facebook, blogging and email on my iPhone. My husband dropped off to a restless kidney stone filled sleep some time ago.

He stirs...Squinting open his little bloodshot, tired eyes...

J: What are you doing?
T: Facebook.
J: Everytime I look over at you your eyes are glowing from your iPhone.
T: Well, you were snoring.
J: We're suppose to be snoring as a family.
T: ?

Quality time = Snoring as a family

Who knew? ;)