nakedjen

Now Showing on Ebay!

Plane Ticket to London - $425.00

Hot Sparkly Dress from Whistles - $175.00

Listing it on Ebay - $9.99

Having your husband wear your dresses as your Ebay model - priceless!

Now For Sale On Ebay...NakedJen!

Shameless self-promotion here.  Continuing on that path, I suppose.  It is no secret around these parts that I have a shopping problem.  Now I must say that since I lost my job last November and have remained unemployed over the entire last year, that the shopping problem seems to be somewhat under control.  When you're not making money, it is HARD to spend it. 

But, my shopping in the past has resulted in a closet that is quite literally bursting at the seams with too much clothing and too many shoes and well, just too much.  Period.  I keep hearing about Ebay and how people make money selling their stuff there, so I'm giving it a whirl.  Of course, I'm finding the whole gathering and sorting and cleaning and ironing part of the process to be quite a pain in the ass, but as NakedDave said, it's all part of the learning process and perhaps this will teach me that I'm not meant to be an Ebayer after all.

So...if any of you are even the slightest bit interested in owning a piece of NakedJen (not quite as exciting as owning a piece of Oprah, I imagine...her things from her closet went for thousands), you can click here.  And bid away.  I have started the opening bids quite low, really.  And there's lots more stuff to come.  I just have to take more pictures and all that jazz.  Even Clyde has a few things he's going to sell.  Stay tuned!

One of the Seven Wonders of the Web

Never one to turn down a chance for a little publicity for Nakedjen, I have bared all for the folks over at Seven Wonders.  Actually, they didn't even ask me to bare all.  They've just chosen me as one of their "seven wonders of the web" for this weekend and as they mentioned that I might sometimes be found sans clothes on my site, I thought I'd do just that for those folks who happen to land here courtesy of their listing.   Plus, it's Friday.  A day for nakedness anyway.

A note to those of you who did land here courtesy of Seven Wonders.  I hope that you'll poke around and see what else there is to see.  It's not just all about nakedness here at NakedJen.  You might just find some other things to interest you.  But if not, thanks for stopping by and I hope you have a wonderful holiday weekend.

A final note to those who are keeping track of the Trading Spouses business and the Santa Cruz episode.  I've learned that it will not be airing on November 29 as previously announced here.  It will be airing in two parts on December 6 and December 13.  I suppose our little Santa Cruz family and the family in Nashville provided weeks worth of entertainment value for the Fox Network. 

I Am Thankful For Organic Potatoes

It is that week in America.  Actually, it is almost that day.  The day when we all gather around the television and give thanks for big large cartoon animal floats and marching bands and the arrival of Santa courtesy of Macy's.  Then the channel is quickly changed and while still sitting in front of the boob tube we give additional thanks for football.  All while various family members whom we would never usually invite into our homes huddle close and pass the nuts.  Or the chips.  Or the cheese.  The men yell at the television, the women stay huddled in the kitchen creating more plates of nuts and chips and cheese to appease the men and when the game finally ends everyone rushes to the table to consume all those carbohydrates that haven't been consumed the entire rest of the year because everyone's been following the Atkins or the South Beach or whatever diet de jour.  But this is a holiday.  A holiday to give thanks for the bounty.  So carbs be damned, we're going to consume them.  But quickly.  The next football game starts in fifteen minutes. 

Pushing Buttons in Baltimore

It is Sunday night.  And per HalfNakedRobin's suggestion, NakedDave and I have just finished eating Nana's spaghetti.  Only Nana would probably roll over in her grave if she ate some of "this" spaghetti since it was a combination of penne and butterfly pasta mixed with fresh tomatoes and basil and garlic and capers.  Not exactly the way Nana used to make it.  But I call it "Nana's Spaghetti" anyway, because, well, she taught me how to make it originally and I've just improved upon it as I've gotten older.

Stuffed on spaghetti and thankful for each and every one of you whom has enquired about the status of my head.  I'm still having that funny metal taste in my mouth, I've still got somewhat of a headache, and my neck is definitely tweaked.  I've got an acupuncture appointment to address all of this and I'm hopeful that will do the trick. 

If it doesn't, you'll find me bashing down the doors of the local Social Security office because even after 11 months, they still do not seem to have my Medicare issues ironed out and I can't go see a doctor until they do.  You would think it wouldn't be that hard to push a button in Baltimore, but from what I gather, pushing buttons in Baltimore is a near impossible task. 

I have a whole other matter that I would really rather write about, but as NakedDave and I now have a promise to one another about Sunday nights and movies and no computer time, I've got to go and keep that promise.  Which means that the whole other matter will just have to wait until tomorrow.  Right now, I'm wanted on the couch. 

Falling From Grace

This is a story that ends like many of my stories.  It ends with, "And then I banged my head." 

I am not a graceful person.  Those who know me in real life will tell you that I am quite clumsy and klutzy and that I do, indeed, have two left feet.  They'll also tell you that I'm one of the only people they know who can trip over air and do a face plant smack on the sidewalk. 

Today, I was trying to go to meet dearsweetdave at Lulu's for some studying and reading and writing and instead I dove head first down our staircase.  That's right, ladies and gentlemen, head first.  Like a swan dive without the pool.  And I'm assuming I landed at the bottom of the stairs on my head, because that's where I eventually found myself.  In a heap.  I'm lucky I hit the bottom and did NOT go through any of the six windows that surround the stairwell.  (The stairway is actually a pull-down staircase going to what was once the "attic" and has now been finished and is our office space, thus it is rather unconventional). 

I say I'm assuming because I don't actually remember much about the fall.  I don't remember soaring gracefully through the air.  Or even landing in a heap at the bottom.  I remember thinking "Oh shit, I'm falling..." and then the next thing I knew Clyde was beside himself with worry, spinning around in circles (which is a feat all in its own given his current age and condition) and barking stopping mid spin to kiss my face.  This is the same behaviour Clyde will exhibit whenever I've had a seizure.  I do not believe I had a seizure, but I am certain that I banged my head.  There is a large golf ball sized lump to prove it. 

Since the fall and the banging of my head this afternoon, I've had this horrible metallic taste in my mouth.  Like I've been to the dentist and they've drilled out an old filling and left all the bits in there to swirl around.  Really wretched.  Nothing seems to make it go away.  Dearsweetdave looked it up on the internet and says it can be a result of head trauma.  Lovely.   I do have a lump, but I also know that if I go to the ER, they will simply say, "Jennifer, you've banged your head.  If you start vomiting or if you have double vision or if you suddenly are unconscious, please come back.  Otherwise, you'll be fine."   I'd rather not spend the next six hours in the ER waiting for them to tell me this.  Instead, dearsweetdave will be playing the role of Nurse Ratchet this evening and will be waking me up every few hours to make sure that I am okay.  He'll ask me who the president is and what day it is and all that good stuff.  Which reminds me, when I had my brain surgery all those years ago, another Bush was in the White House and every time those doctors at John's Hopkins asked me who was president I would say, "Oh god, it's still Bush, isn't it?  Wake me up when he's gone!" 

I may try that same answer this evening. 

A Post In Three Part Harmony

Part One.

The mystery over those white vans that followed me from the airport the day I flew home from Nashville and then were parked outside my house for a whole week housing camera crews and flood lights has been solved.  Those of you who live in Santa Cruz may have seen this article in the Santa Cruz Sentinel yesterday.  Those of you who don't, I just linked to the article for you so you can go read it and learn all about it.

About what, you ask?  Well for those too lazy to even click, it's Trading Spouses.  Who knew that our own neighbors, Carl and Leslie and their boys would be willing to participate in such a program?  Since we don't have television at ChezNaked, I have not actually seen Trading Spouses, but can only imagine what it must be like since it is a Fox television program.  The episode airs on November 29 at 8:00 p.m.  Seems the other spouse was from Nashville.  Thus the greeting of my plane by the television crew.  And here I thought they were there to welcome NakedJen home to Santa Cruz.   

Now, again, we don't have a television at ChezNaked.  I wonder who I can get to tape that episode for me so I can watch and see how it all unfolds.  I'm particularly interested in how they depict our little Mayberry by the Sea.

Part Two.

Santa Cruz is a rather unique little town.  Well, not so little and maybe not so unique, but it does lean rather far to the left even for the left coast and it does have its own share of wonderful characters that populate the streets of downtown on any given day.  You may or may not know about Mr. Twister and his own battles with our meter maids.  His escapades landed him on Jay Leno and even landed him an agent.  Not bad for the guy who spends most of his time making balloon creations (and they are creations) for the kids at the farmer's market.  ( I will admit that the very first time I saw Mr. Twister, it was quite early in the morning in Santa Cruz and I was at the Bagelry.  He was in complete clown regalia and I wondered to myself, "Is that guy going to work as a clown this morning...or...did he just wake up and say, "I think I'll be a clown today?" In Santa Cruz the answer truly could have been either one!).

Since last spring, though, those who wander downtown are more than likely to see a man whom we all refer to rather lovingly as "The Umbrella Man". 

The Umbrella Man's real name is Robert.  He spends a good portion of every day walking from the top of Pacific Avenue at Lulu Carpenter's Cafe (where this picture was taken on election day) down the avenue to Cathcart Street (which is where the Catalyst is located) and then he crosses Pacific and walks back up the other side.  He does this for three round trips.  In a very zen like manner, walking in absolute baby steps.  Tinytinytiny steps.  Steps that make you scratch your head and wonder if he's moved at all.  And he does this all with a wonderful smile on his face.  He always wears a Hawaiian print shirt and some yellow pants and he carries that umbrella.  It has Mylar on the inside to keep him from getting too hot.  He told us that it takes him about six hours to make the three round trips.  Six hours.  Every day.  This is his job.  And he couldn't be happier. 

This Is Not The Post You Were Looking For

Last night while shopping at Bookshop Santa Cruz with dear sweet NakedDave I was approached by a woman who asked me if I was "Jen."  Since I am, in fact, Jen, I said, "Yes."  And turns out she was Grace.  Who has just recently stumbled across NakedJen, but who is a true Santa Cruz spirit in her own right and a woman definitely worth getting to know better.  I even met her husband.  He's just as lovely as she is.  Honestly.  Go on over and say hello.  Tell her nakedjen sent you.

And Now For Some Limits On Freedom of Speech

am quite disturbed about this entry over at Anniesj that was shared with me today by my good friend Naomi. 

that entry just pushes too many buttons for me. the freedom of speech first amendment waving hippy girl in me can't believe that actually happened.  the sober nakedjen who knows what kind of world we really live in these days can.  i'm horrified. ugh. that poor guy.

Flooding My Brain with Memories

My boarding school is having a metro stop in San Francisco tomorrow night.  I'm debating whether or not I'm going to go and went to the alumni relations page to see who else was attending the event.  I was greeted by this photo.  Which elicited an audible sigh along with me saying outloud, "Oh, the garth.  The perfect fall day.  Wow, I remember so many days like that!" 

That specific picture completely epitomizes FALL at my school. You can not get anywhere on campus during your day without walking through the garth at least a few times. And there's a cross in the center. It was said if you stepped on it, you wouldn't graduate. So you never stepped on the cross.

I saw that picture just now and was flooded with memories. Really lovely and wonderful memories. I just loved that school. Boarding school was quite possibly one the very best decisions I ever made for myself. I'm so grateful that I was able to go and even more grateful that I went to St. Andrews. I have no doubt at all that I am the person I am today because of that school. Truly. That school saved my life in more ways than one.