nakedjen

Becoming a Pod Person

I have a confession to make.  I've become a pod person. 

This past January 21, late in the evening, after all the birthday revelry had subsided, I was sitting on the couch with DearSweetDave, Clyde at my feet (yes, Clyde! at my feet), when DearSweetDave told me that he had one more surprise gift for me.  He handed me a wrapped square box.  And a lovely card.  I don't quite remember what the card said exactly, but I do remember that the last words were...
"and it's pink!"

I had no idea what on earth could be in this box from DearSweetDave as really there was nothing on my list of wants that I did not already have.  But when I read, "and it's pink!", I looked at DearSweetDave and said, "Oh my, did you get me a Rabbit?"

After some giggles, I finally opened the gift.  It wasn't a Rabbit.  It was an electronic device of an entirely different kind.  It was a pink mini i-pod.  I had no idea I even wanted one until that very moment.  But as soon as I saw it, I fell in love. 

I loaded nearly every song from every CD in our vast library onto that little magical pink player.  The shuffle option became my best friend.  After Clyde died, I put on the headphones, turned the dial to 11, and I let all my favorite musicians soothe my soul while I walked and walked and walked some more.  I was a depressed mess, but that pinkpod really and truly helped to keep me at least functional. 

And then, as we know, ClydeFairy sent those beautiful puppies.

Operation Individuality for the Puppies is still very much in OPERATION.  This means that I am again spending a lot of time taking a lot of walks.  Long walks.  And to tell you the truth, while Buddha and Stella are both really finding their voices, they still are not quite up to long involved philosophical discussions about the universe.  Their attention spans are still those of a gnat who just sucked down espresso, so really, I get about three words in before they're off chasing a seagull or rolling in some smelly rotten thing they've just discovered. 

But the soundtrack that once soothed me and kept me here, now isn't quite as much fun during those very long walks.  Sure they're okay for a grey morning or two, but I'm walking these dogs for three hours every single morning.  And again in the evenings.  That's a lot of time to spend inside the head of NakedJen.  In fact, it's too much time.  You'll have to trust me on that one.

In my quest to find some sort of stimulation until Buddha and Stella are ready for those long philosophical discussions, I have discovered the world of podcasting.  People, do you know there are literally thousands of folks out there who are broadcasting some really interesting stuff on the Internet?  They're taking the time to actually record their thoughts and ideas and songs and all kinds of things and SHARE THEM!  It is a beautiful thing.

One of my first podcasts that I downloaded was No Soap Radio.  I honestly can not tell you why I chose that particular podcast out of ALL THE AVAILABLE PODCASTS available on iTunes as my virgin podcast, but the fact is that I did.  And people, I was not disappointed.  I walked the dogs along the beach and listened to the voices of Chuck and Beth as they talked about their lives and their days and their trip to an Eagles Concert and their daughter and well...I just loved them.  They were real people with real lives just talking about their real stuff.  It was REAL. 

As it always seems to happens in my strange little corner of the Internet, it turned out that I had a connection to this Chuck and Beth of No Soap Radio.  During one broadcast, Chuck mentioned the name of his own blog.   I recognized the name because I remembered my dear friend Grace telling me all about Chuck and his visit to the phone booth in the Mojave Desert.  The same phone booth that once saved my own life during a crazy journey that involved a boy, a broken heart, the Grateful Dead and most definitely the kindness of strangers. 

Anyway, while walking Buddha that day and listening to Chuck and Beth talk about their planned visit to JournalCon, I suddenly realized that these were the SAME CHUCK AND BETH that Grace worshiped.  And not only that, but Chuck had actually left me a very kind message right here on NakedJen when Clyde had passed on.

It's a very small Internet, folks.  Very small, indeed.

So I want to give a proper shout out to No Soap Radio.  And encourage all of you to go and take a listen.  In this world of reality TV that is totally contrived and news that is much too hard to bear, hearing REAL people talk about their REAL LIVES can be a truly refreshing change. 

It sure makes a walk on the beach with the dogs even that much better.

Why I Married Him

DearSweetDave:  I don't know why you bothered to marry me if you're not going to ever listen to anything I say?!

NakedJen:  You asked!  That's why I married you.

DearSweetDave:  (snickers)

NakedJen:  I have to blog about this.

DearSweetDave:  Not now!  (He really wants me to go to bed because i'm TIRED AND CRANKY!)

NakedJen:  Of course right now.  This will only take a second.

My Water Got Better, But My Wood Got Tight!

I was going to call this post, "OLD FRIENDS" because it is something that I've been thinking about a lot lately, but DearSweetDave had a Five Elements acupuncture appointment this afternoon and when he came home he told me all about his water pulse and his wood pulse and well, it just made me laugh out loud.  I had to use it. 

But yes, old friends.  A few weeks ago I got an email from a woman who told me that Grace had told her that she might want to consider using me for doula services.  This woman was about to give birth to her third child and she had tragically lost her second beautiful baby boy when he was just 18 months old.  For this reason, she was positively crazy with her third pregnancy (and rightfully so) and while she wasn't certain that she even wanted a doula, she felt compelled to write to me anyway and share all the details. 

Which I found fascinating.  Not in a morbid way, but in a way that here was this woman who was writing to a complete stranger and yet was willing to absolutely bear her soul to its very core and share something so personal and so intimate and so very tragic with someone she didn't even know.

But it turned out that she did know me.  Better than she ever imagined. 

A longlonglong time ago, before I really was NakedJen (and yes, there was a time in my own life when I was actually just Jen and not Naked), I lived in Bonny Doon.  I lived there first in a house with lots of my very best friends who had all moved to that "house that Jack built" from various parts of the country to form a rock and roll band.  Yes, you read that right.  A rock and roll band.  We were all deadheads, we were all from Washington, D.C. and we were all certain that we were going to be the NEXT BIG THING. 

Har! 

The universe certainly had other plans.  The house imploded, everyone scattered, and I ended up in a one room termite infested log cabin with a shitload of musical equipment (2 Hammond organs, 8 guitars, amps out the wazoo) and Greg.  It was then that my name was JenandGreg.  Or GregandJen.  Or even FreddyandJen depending upon who was talking about me. 

The two of us stuck it out in Bonny Doon.  We started our own recycling business, I worked as a nanny for Pilar's family, and we both did our best to try and keep from killing each other.  I will save the details of the final implosion of that relationship, but I will say that it wasn't pretty and I was very much to blame.  I take full responsibility for my huge part in everything that went wrong.  There was much that went right, but there was just as much that went very wrong. 

While I was a nanny to Pilar she attended a preschool that was also in Bonny Doon.  A preschool that was filled with light and love and laughter and all things good.  With chickens and sand boxes and color coordinated chairs and art tables and a rumpus room for physical play.  All nestled under the redwoods of Bonny Doon with a beautiful view of the San Lorenzo Valley below.  All children should be so lucky.

The goddess of this preschool was Gwendolyn.  She was like a combination of Pippi Longstocking and the most gorgeous of fairy princesses.  And she spun her magic every day for those 2 and 3 year olds.  The sun rose and set with Gwendolyn.  She was also their shining moon.

Pilar attended Gwendolyn's preschool three days a week.  It was my job to often deliver her there and to pick her up.  Because of this, Gwendolyn and I became friends.  Bonny Doon is a very small hamlet, when you meet someone of your "own kind", it is easy to become friends.

Even when Pilar became too old for Gwendolyn's preschool and I stopped going to her home every week, we remained friends.  Gwendolyn held an amazing summer solstice party every year at her home and Greg and I often were in attendance.  We had other friends in common, as well, so even if we didn't see one another, we were well aware of what was going on in each others lives.

1995 rolled around and everything in my life shifted once again.  It wasn't a good year as far as years go for NakedJen.  That was the year that my seizures started.  Greg's father died.  He ended up moving back to Washington, D.C. and our relationship and friendship began to completely unravel.  I also ended up getting cervical cancer and moved from Bonny Doon into Santa Cruz.  I also lost touch with Gwendolyn. 

Ten years went by.  Obviously, my life managed to find its way back on track.  But in all that time, despite us having many friends in common, I never once contacted Gwendolyn or even knew if she was still in Bonny Doon.  I had heard that she had moved to Colorado.  And I assumed that she was still there.

Until I got that email.  From the woman who bared her soul.  But even as I was reading it, I wasn't quite sure that it was the same amazing fairy princess that I had loved all those years ago.  Her "ah ha!" moment came after she actually spent some time on the NakedJen website.  After that first email where she had bared her soul to a complete stranger, I got a second email.  It said:

"whoa waitaminute.....you look an awful lot like a jen who used to live
in bonny doon with a guy named greg........is that you??"

To which I promptly replied that, yes, it was in fact, the same Jen who used to live in Bonny Doon with a guy named Greg.  All the puzzle pieces fell into place.  Gwendolyn and I had been reunited thanks to Grace.  Grace who is the catalyst for bringing so many good things to so many good people.  Dr. Laura should be so gracious.

Gwendolyn and I had a raucous reunion on Wednesday afternoon at none other than Lulu Carpenter's cafe.  In the old days, when I knew Gwendolyn, she was such a fiend for coffee.  She still is.  It's good to know that some things do not ever change. 

She is the picture of beautiful pregnancy.  And while I know that she is crazy insane with worry and fret over her baby bubbles and how he will come into this world, because I am her friend, I want to put my arms around her and hold her close and tell her that it is all going to be okay.  But it is precisely because I am her friend that I can't do that.  I can put my arms around her, I can hold her close, but there's no way I can tell her that anything will ever be okay.  I want to believe in a universe that won't visit tragedy upon Gwendolyn twice.  I reallyreallyreally want to believe.  Life holds no guarantees.  Or money back offers.  Or exchanges if what you wished for doesn't arrive. 

Life gives you life.  And death.  And a whole lot else.  And sometimes it also gives you back a part of yourself that was missing in the form of a very dear old friend. 

3 Months. Love Letter to Buddha and Stella.

Dear Buddha and Stella,

You're three months old now.  You've been at home, living here with us, for a month.  And what a month it has been.  You've already taught us that we must truly listen to our gut (and not the vet) when it comes to your care and feeding.  Especially your feeding.  Why the vet wants us to feed you Science Diet instead of your very complete organic dog food we will never quite understand, but NakedJen took it upon herself to stand firm with the vet and explain that you were HER PUPPIES and not HIS PUPPIES and she was going to feed you what she thought was the very best no matter what he thought. 

You both will learn, if you haven't already, that NakedJen can be just as stubborn as the two of you when it comes to your care and feeding.

We thought that you both had learned how NOT to PEE AND POOP in the house, but we also learned that this was just a ruse you BOTH were playing on us and that as soon as we allowed you to play with one another in the house, you would find ways to PEE AND POOP usually when no one was looking so that we had no idea which one of you had PEED or POOPED and thus had to remove BOTH OF YOU to your crates or the backyard and then DearSweetDave and I took turns hitting each other with a rolled up newspaper because you had done this IN THE HOUSE instead of OUTSIDE where good puppies all know it is proper to eliminate.  Obviously, DearSweetDave and I both need more training when it comes to this whole PEE AND POOP matter.  You both understand exactly how to do it, it's the WHERE part that is confounding to ALL FOUR OF US.  And according to DearSweetDave, I, NakedJen, need to learn how to follow my own rules for puppy training.  Apparently, I am quite good at setting these rules, and also quite good at ignoring them.  But let's remember that I have never been one who followed rules.  Like ever.  I don't know why DearSweetDave thinks that just because I've made rules I am ever going to be able to follow them.

Both of you have been attending obedience classes and you've learned how to sit, how to lie down, and how to shake.  Oh how fun it is to ask you to shake.  Why Stella is taking shake to a whole new level and thinks that even when I ask her to lie down she should shake first, then lie down.  Stella also learned how to leave it, but this is something she needs to most definitely practice because she still thinks that EVERY THING ON THE ENTIRE PLANET should go into her mouth.  She thinks cigarette butts are particularly tasty, but she also likes rocks.  Buddha, you sweetie, don't really care to put things in your mouth.  At all.  But your sister is taking care of that for the both of you.  So no worries.  I'm sure eventually she'll learn how to share all those cigarette butts if the two of you find yourselves homeless and jumping rail cars and hanging with hobos.  Those cigarette butts of Stella's could come in really handy then.  Why you might even be able to trade a few of them for something more substantial like food!   So stick close with Stella, Buddha.  She knows what she's doing.

Both of you have finally learned how to sleep through the entire night and this has made me very happy.  DearSweetDave has moved back into our bedroom and we're all sleeping together like one big happy family.  Sort of.  You still insist upon getting up at 6:00 a.m. and we all know that for night owls like us, this is a really unreasonable hour.  But goodness knows, you're full of absolute CUTENESS and we don't want your little tiny bladders to burst, so I always get up and we go outside and look at the early morning stars and PEE AND POOP just like good doggies should. 

I also want to tell you both that I am just thrilled with how well you go for walks on the leash.  Stella has mastered her sassy model walk.  Babe, you're ready for the catwalks of Europe.  And Buddha.  I don't know who you were in your former life, but you already know to sit at every crosswalk and wait to cross, sit to greet all new people, and you even sit to greet new dogs.  You're a true gentleman in every way.  If you could pass some of that sitting knowledge along to your sister, that would be a real help!

We've started to take you both out for walks together at the beach and Lighthouse Field.  And I must say, I'm still in awe of the two of you.  You never fail to draw loads of attention and yet you just lap it up and don't even beg for more.  Are you sure you're MY FUR KIDS?  I mean if all those people were falling at my feet, I think I'd be prone to do more than just lift my head for another scratch under the chin.  You're so happy and content with whatever attention you receive, but then you're also happy and content to continue on your merry way.

DearSweetDave and I feel so blessed, every single day, to have both of you BIG LOVE MUSCLES in our lives.  Now if we can just get Stella to learn that barking is for strangers and Buddha to learn that we PEE outside ALL THE TIME and not just when it's convenient. 

Love,

NakedDogMamaJen

Putting Medicare on Notice

I received a Medicare Summary Notice in the mail last week.  Remember when there was all that hullabaloo last month about my breasts and the moles and the possible cancer?  And we all held our collective breath and wondered out loud about that golf ball only to find out during the mammogram and ultrasound that I have the wonderful fat free breasts of a twenty year old.

Well, the Medicare Summary Notice for those of you who are not lucky enough to receive those copious and confusing pieces of paper yet, tells you what bills have been submitted to Medicare by your care providers and how much of those bills Medicare elected to actually PAY and how much you may be BILLED and then there are notes just in case all of that is not confusing enough. 

Trust me, even if you're quite intelligent and got all A's in math, this shit is damn confusing.

So I looked at this particular Medicare Summary Notice and it was pages and pages because of all those various doctors visits.  And one thing I noticed was that Medicare did not pay a single penny for my annual gynecological exam.  Not one cent. 

Now I ask you, the lovely and smart people of the Internet, does this make any sense at all?  I thought it was just an oversight on their part, so I spent a large portion of my day today trying to get to figure out just what went wrong.

Of course because I'm NakedJen, even this wasn't so easy.  First you dial an 800 number.  Then you answer the voice-automated systems questions for what feels like forever.  Eventually, if you're good and kind and patient, a human voice can be heard on the other end of the line.  This human voice will then ask you EVERY SINGLE QUESTION ALL OVER AGAIN THAT YOU HAVE JUST ANSWERED TO THE VOICE RECOGNITION SYSTEM!  Oh yes, our tax dollars are at work in full force on this one.  It is really a good idea, though, to just stay in some place of zen and provide them with all those answers all over again.  Eventually they will ask you for your birth date.  If you're me, you'll tell them that it is January 21, 1964.  Because that is, in fact, the day you really were born.  They'll then tell you that date is incorrect. 

You will stammer.  You will begin to explain that you realize that they have the WRONG date in their system, but you, your naked self, have gone to the local Social Security Office with your birth certificate what feels like a GAZILLION TIMES and had them update the records to reflect your correct birth date.  And you have NO IDEA WHAT DYSLEXIC IDIOT mistyped your birth date into the system to begin with, but after updating it A GAZILLION TIMES, you'd think by now it would be correct.

The snippy (yes she was now snippy) person at the Medicare office will tell you that because you do not know your birth date she can give you no further information and she will hang up on you.

Lovely. 

At this point, I chatted with DearSweetDave who reminded me what birth date they actually DO have in their system.  So I called back.  Went through the entire exercise again with the voice recognition software.  When I got to speak to an actual human being, I didn't hesitate for a second.  I told her my birthday was January 24, 1964.  And onward we went.  What was my question?  How could she assist me? 

I felt like such a poser.

I asked about my office visit on August 9, 2005.  The one where I had a pelvic exam and pap smear and breast exam?  The one that cost $422.00?  I asked ever so nicely why that particular visit to the doctor was not covered by Medicare?  Her answer??

MEDICARE DOES NOT COVER ANNUAL EXAMS.  EVER. 

I was totally flummoxed.  Not ever?  I asked this woman if Medicare would prefer that I actually get cancer instead and then we deal with that?  I asked how it possibly made sense that I NOT GO TO THE DOCTOR BECAUSE I CAN'T AFFORD A $422 OFFICE VISIT, and instead get CANCER and the Medicare system then has to pay for all my care for that? 

She explained that if I was truly upset about this I should talk to Congress.  They make the decisions.  The Medicare offices just follow the rules set by those people on the Hill.

I did speak to another person at Social Security about this later in the day because it turned out that since nothing is simple in the world of NakedJen that the Social Security office not only has my BIRTH DATE WRONG, but they also have my SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER WRONG, as well.  I might as well just not exist.

This other person, who was quite competent, by the way, explained to me that the reason Medicare does not cover ANNUAL EXAMS or preventative doctors visits of ANY KIND, is that originally Medicare was created for people over the age of 65.  Our good congress people figured those folks didn't need preventative care.  They were OLD. 

Well, there are those of us who receive Medicare benefits who are very much well below the age of 65.  And we're disabled.  Which means we don't have loads of cash lying about.  We're on fixed, limited incomes.  We need to be able to go to see our doctors.  Sometimes for preventative care.  Those visits should be covered.  Or at least provided at a reasonable fee. 

I had another chat with DearSweetDave.  Here's the transcript:

goddessnakedjen: they do not cover PREVENTATIVE office visits  EVER
goddessnakedjen: they would rather i get CANCER and then deal with that
goddessnakedjen: then have me go to the doctor for a preventative screening visit
goddessnakedjen: and pay for that
dsals: which appointment was this?
dsals: mammogram?
goddessnakedjen: the woman actually told me if i have a problem with that then i should talk to congress because they make the rules
goddessnakedjen: it was in the doctors office
goddessnakedjen: to have my pap smear and pelvic/breast exam
goddessnakedjen: they totally covered the mammogram and ultrasound that RESULTED from that visit
goddessnakedjen: but not that visit
dsals: weird.
goddessnakedjen: it's so fucked up
goddessnakedjen: i don't understand it
goddessnakedjen: why on earth would they NOT cover an annual exam for a woman??
dsals: maybe you need to run for congress.
goddessnakedjen: i'm going to call back AGAIN and see if i can get a better explanation from another person
goddessnakedjen: i won't win
goddessnakedjen: if i run for congress
goddessnakedjen: because i've done too many drugs
goddessnakedjen: and been associated with too many shady characters
goddessnakedjen: it's just fucked up
goddessnakedjen: i wonder who in congress is on the medicare decision making board
dsals: well at the very least this sounds like good bloggin gmaterial.
goddessnakedjen: oh yes.
goddessnakedjen: it is very good blogging material
dsals: i need to go pee.
goddessnakedjen: so i got someone very competent just now
goddessnakedjen: at social security
dsals: cool.
goddessnakedjen: and she even was able to SEE that my birthday has been updated umpteen times
goddessnakedjen: but for some reason, the MAIN birthday is still the WRONG birthday
goddessnakedjen: and she doesn't know why that is at all
goddessnakedjen: and can not figure out why it hasn't pushed the WRONG birthday out
goddessnakedjen: when the latest record says, January 21, 1964
goddessnakedjen: however, the record that comes UP says, January 24, 1964 across the board
goddessnakedjen: so weird
dsals: very weird.
goddessnakedjen: so she also said that medicare does not cover annual exams
dsals: nice that someone was finally willing to look at the screen instead of just telling you to go away.
goddessnakedjen: because medicare was originally created for OLD PEOPLE
dsals: ah.
goddessnakedjen: and they didn't worry about annual exams
goddessnakedjen: but she said i should definitely write to my congress person
goddessnakedjen: so i will do that
goddessnakedjen: i will write to both feinstein and boxer
goddessnakedjen: who are OLD WOMEN
goddessnakedjen: who will want to know that medicare will not cover annual exams for women
dsals: yes.
goddessnakedjen: meanwhile, i will also blog about it
goddessnakedjen: and encourage the rest of the world to also write and complain
goddessnakedjen: and i'll pay the bill
goddessnakedjen: so that i can go back to see the doctor
goddessnakedjen: about my finger
dsals: okay.
goddessnakedjen: which is not happy
dsals: were they not going to help you until you paid your bill?
goddessnakedjen: oh no.
goddessnakedjen: they would see me
goddessnakedjen: i just want to also pay that bill
goddessnakedjen: because i don't like outstanding medical bills
dsals: okay.
dsals: well, I'm still very glad you took the exams, even if we have to pay for them.
goddessnakedjen: even though last year i had outstanding medical bills for over a year
goddessnakedjen: yes, me too
goddessnakedjen: i mean, i've had cervical cancer
goddessnakedjen: i can't risk having it again
dsals: and you couldn't have gotten the other tests (which medicare did pay for) without doing the exams first.
goddessnakedjen: i wonder, if i had disability because of cervical cancer if that would have been covered?
goddessnakedjen: i mean, the exam??
goddessnakedjen: right.
dsals: who knows?
goddessnakedjen: it's just fucked up.
dsals: yes.
goddessnakedjen: so off to congress i go
goddessnakedjen: to lobby
goddessnakedjen: on behalf of women everywhere
dsals: okay. good luck to congress.
dsals: I hope they survive.
dsals: (but not really)
dsals: "Jennifer Neal, world mover"

Dear readers, I each of you to also write your congress person, if you're so inclined.  Why, it's national Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  But isn't it a shame that your grandmother (if she's dependent on Medicare) has to pay for her doctor's visit to get her breast exam?  She should not have to do that.  And neither should you.

Let's get this changed.  If we're serious about doing something about Breast Cancer (and all cancers) this is a very good step.

It Was Friday

  IMG_3870 
  Originally uploaded by nakedjen.

And I figured I should take a picture.  Har!

I know it is not one of my more creative efforts.  But let's remember dear sweet readers from the Internet, that I was (and still am) under the weather.  A photo in a public place just wasn't really going to happen.

Nakedjen got a nice mention via NakedJim in the International Naturists Association newsletter this month. 

If you've arrived here via clothesfree.com, welcome.  I'm really glad you're here and I hope you enjoy your stay.

Not a Patient Patient

It is absolutely true what they say about doctors making the worst patients.  I know that I'm not a doctor, but I do play one on the Internet and people, I'm sick.  DearSweetDave has been sick since this time LAST WEEK and I thought that all those fabulous vitamins that I take had kept my immune system in tip top shape and that I had been able to avoid this very dreadful sore throat and congested head thing that had literally consumed my husband.

I should have never let him share my water on Saturday night.  Me, oh so cocky, letting him drink from my water bottle and saying, "Oh, go ahead, I won't get it!"

Pfft.  The Universe obviously decided to teach me one big fat lesson in humility.

I will now become, as DearSweetDave likes to tell everyone, A MAJOR PAIN IN THE ASS!

My throat is on fire.  My eustachian tubes are completely clogged.  I am achy and tired and light-headed and of course I'm not going to bed...have you all seen my TO DO list for today?  Right.  Those things have to be finished before I can rest.  Absolutely.

I am drinking my own concoction of Immunitea, downing the ever present in this house Wellness Formula and will send out for Little Shanghai's Hot and Sour Soup very shortly as it has magic medicinal properties that really should be bottled up and shared with the entire world.  Thank goodness they're right here in Santa Cruz and I can get it whenever a medical need strikes!

The best news, I can possibly share, though is that though I am sick, I am also a new AUNTIE NAKED.  My dearest friend Wendee and her Randee became proud parents of a big strapping baby boy last night.  Everyone is healthy and well and getting much deserved rest.  I was certain she was having a girl.  Absolutely certain.

Goes to show all of you how much I know, doesn't it?

Flirting 101

I realized today that I am quite out of practice when it comes to flirting with members of the opposite sex.  Member of my own sex?  No problem.  But boys?  Not so much.  It's like I've lost all the skills I honed in high school and college and those ever important early years in my twenties.  Is this a use it or lose it skill?  Isn't flirting like riding a bicycle?  Something you only need to learn once?

Uncle Charlie's Summer Camp is back in session.  The young, fresh, nubile boys and girls of UCSC have descended upon our town once again and are staking claim to our waves and our cafes and calling them their own.  These are the beautiful children of the UC system, quite frankly.  And why not?  They've chosen to pursue their higher education in Santa Cruz, of all places.  At a college where you can elect not to receive grades and actually take surfing for credit.  Where as much emphasis is put on what party you're going to attend on Saturday night as what party you're voting in the next election.  This is not the school of rocket scientists.  This is the school of sun-kissed surfer boys, kick-ass babes on mountain bikes and the requisite round out of trustafarians.

While I'm completely floored and flattered that these boys who are running amok in our town think that I am anywhere NEAR the same age bracket as they, I still find myself completely tongue-tied by their bold flirtations and come-ons.  There I am, walking a puppy, bopping along with my iPod, quite oblivious to most things around me, and the beautiful half-naked dripping wet surfer boy is smiling, making eye contact, asking me all about the dog, then all about me, then asking if I'll be back tomorrow.  Goodness.  While my seven shades of red cheeks certainly belay my attempt at cool, it's all I can do to keep standing, not mumble, and not dash off like a ferret in search of a very deep hole.  I'm absolutely sure that Peter Funt is going to jump out from behind a bush at any moment and yell, "Smile, you're on Candid Camera!"  How else to explain this sudden fawning from these boys?

It would be one thing if this was a rare occurrence.  And perhaps it's happening with such frequency because the dogs are getting a total of six walks a day.  That's a lot of walks with a puppy.  But I can't help but wonder if perhaps I'm being wound up?  Is this not some huge prank?  Has UCSC decided to offer credit to these boys in the form of a class in Flirting 101?  Turn 30 over 40 women to blushing babbling idiots before the end of the semester for 3 credits?  How else do you explain it?

Whatever the reason, I would like to publicly thank those beautiful young men.  Boys, thank you. Really and truly, thank you.   If this is for credit, all I can say is that you certainly deserve A's.  I'm definitely loving the attention, even if I do find myself reverting to complete dorkdom and unable to respond in kind.

Carry on.  This naked woman of Santa Cruz  most definitely thanks you.