nakedjen

Farewell 2006

Those were the most important words on my blog for 2006. 

I bid them and the beautiful memories they represent a fond farewell.  I cast them into the universe. 

I am ready and open for 2007. 

Bring it on!  All of it!  Every amazing thing!

We Don't Do Body Counts

"We don't do body counts,"  General Tommy Franks, U.S. Central Command.

Saddam Hussein was executed earlier today.  I will probably find myself standing quite alone among most Americans when I say what I am going to say, but I have never stood silent and I refuse to do so now.

I am not condoning the atrocities that Saddam Hussein committed against the people of Iraq.  However, I stand by my own convictions that killing people to show that killing people is not the answer.  And if we, as the American people, are going to uphold this form of eye for an eye righteousness, than I think we all need to take a very hard look in the mirror. 

There are a lot more than 148 innocent Iraqi bodies on our own hands.  Our administration is currently responsible for over 57,000 dead Iraqi's.  Dead.  Our occupation of their country, our insistence on bringing democracy and liberation and freedom to their land, has resulted in the death of over 57,000 men, women and children.

Yes, we are nearing 3,000 dead in the American tally of service men and women.  I don't think that is right, either.  We, the American people, don't belong in Iraq.  Period.

If Saddam's death is considered justice, than I can only ask when justice will be served for the blood on the hands of George W. Bush, as well? 

Think about it. 

Lost

I lost my wallet tonight.  Actually, I more than lost it.  I went to the post office, as I do nearly every day, to mail a package for Dreamsweet.  And then I checked my P.O. Box.  And then I went to the counter to sort through all the mail that was in the P.O. Box.  And I left my wallet sitting right there.  On the counter. 

Just left it.  Walked right out, hopped in the car, drove the dogs to the park, walked them and played with them, got back in the car, drove to the massage therapist's office and then, only then, did I notice that I had left my wallet at the Post Office. 

So I dropped off more Dreamsweet Teas at the massage therapist's office, hopped back in the car and drove to the Post Office.  Where I found, on the counter, a receipt for my postage purchase, the mail that I had left there, but no wallet.

I walked around to the back of the post office where there were still lots of postal folk sorting mail and asked if anyone had turned in an orange and pink wallet?  I was told they had no way of knowing one way or the other and that if it was the guy in charge of issuing passports would be in receipt of all "surrendered items" in the morning.  He would then identify the item and call me.

I told them that my phone number was not in my wallet.  The postal worker laughed at me and said, "Honey, we're the government.  We have ways of finding you!" 

Okay!

While I want to trust the Universe and hope that my wallet will find my way back to me, I don't want to be stupid.  So I have cancelled all my credit cards.  Which were ALL in my wallet.  All.of.them.  My social security card was in there, too.  And, of course, my driver's license.  The last time this happened, because I seem to have a history of leaving my wallet in places I shouldn't, my wallet also included my passport!  This time, my passport is downstairs.  But everything else important in my life is in there.  Every. Thing. Else.

Still, it's not the end of the world.  Or a huge disaster.  The cards are cancelled.  I can replace the driver's license.  The money?  It's just money. 

I'm just hopeful that someone did find it and it will come back to me.  Somehow.  And if not?  Then I guess it's time for a new wallet.  Perhaps one that is physically attached to me somehow so I can't go leaving it places!

Love in a Pasta Bowl

During the Christmas holidays in the year before DearSweetDave and I got married, we found ourselves at Crate and Barrel one evening wandering the store looking for an inspired gift or at the very least a nice present for his mom.  At least if I remember correctly that is what we were doing there.  Actually, I am not entirely positive about whom it was we were shopping for, but I do know it was not each other. 

However, it was during that shopping trip over seven years ago that we happened upon a set of pasta bowls.  Four bowls.  Each rimmed in a different color.  Each one with a different vegetable painted on the bottom.  Each one just the right depth and size for a very good portion of noodles for all those who worship he of the noodly appendages.

Even though it was the season of shopping for others, we purchased those pasta bowls and brought them home.  At the time we weren’t technically even living together, but the purchase of the bowls together were a definite commitment to our future together. 

As ceramic bowls tend to do, especially ones that get used so often for Nana’s spaghetti dinners and heaping portions of Thai Noodle Soup, these bowls have gotten a bit worn over the years.  One has a rather large chip missing from a rim, the colors have faded and the pictures of the vegetables are now barely distinguishable.  So since January, really, DearSweetDave and I have been on the look out for some replacement pasta bowls.

Now, you’d think that would be very easy, right?  Just walk into Crate and Barrel or Pottery Barn or Williams-Sanoma and faster than you can say VISA you’ve got yourself some bowls.  But we’re kind of picky about our bowls here at Chez Naked.  Or maybe I should say we’re REALLY picky about our bowls.  The bowls offered up by Crate and Barrel are just plain ugly (apologies to those pastafarians out there who have purchased them recently) and are also really shallow.  Pottery Barn doesn’t even have a bowl worth considering.  And Williams-Sonoma?  Forget it.  Again with the UGLY! 

Occasionally we’d come across what we felt was a bowl that would work.  It wouldn’t even technically BE a pasta bowl, but it was a bowl that was large enough and deep enough to meet our noodle requirements.  However these bowls, because they were usually serving bowls instead of regular bowls, would be $50.  Each.  Which meant that if we were going to buy 4 we’d be paying $200.  For pasta bowls.  Somehow DearSweetDave and I just couldn’t bring ourselves to do it. 

There’s a small store on Pacific Avenue here in Santa Cruz called Best of Everything.  One day in late November DearSweetDave and I were in the store and found some beautiful recycled glass bowls.  That were exactly the right size.  Perfect for pasta.  They were $25 each.  We hemmed.  We hawed.  And we ultimately decided that they were too expensive!  Yes they were beautiful, but surely there were pasta bowls out there, somewhere, for a more reasonable price.

So we continued our quest.

Yesterday was Christmas.  DearSweetDave and I don’t really celebrate Christmas.  By that I mean that we don’t buy into the whole MUST BUY PRESENTS mentality that is forced upon everyone during the holiday season.  Or at least we try not to do so. 

But this year we both happened to have a gift to exchange with one another.

My gift to him?  Four ceramic pasta bowls that I finally found in another store here in Santa Cruz and purchased because they were, well, just perfect.  The perfect size.  The prefect weight.  The perfect price. 

His gift to me?  The recycled glass pasta bowls from Best of Everything.  Because, as he put it, it really was just $100.  And if it’s just going to be one gift, what’s $100?

We’re keeping all eight bowls.  Sometimes love really does look like eight pasta bowls piled under a blue Christmas tree. 

Happy Christmas!

To Be or Not To Be...Naked, That Is.

Each year, as soon as we’ve finished stuffing ourselves with stuffing on Thanksgiving, there’s a refrain you can hear uttered at ChezNaked if you listen closely enough.  No, it isn’t the oof of having enjoyed just one too many bites of pumpkin pie (or in DearSweetDave’s case perhaps even one too many whole pies, that man loves pumpkin pie) or even the grumble of stomachs that are doing their best to digest a mixture of sauerkraut and cranberries.  It is me saying, “Oh fuck.  It’s the holiday train again!”

DearSweetDave and I happen to live on one of the only streets in the entire United States where a train, a real live train with people waving from the windows, goes choo choo chooing by our very uncovered windows on a very regular basis.  The train is a very popular attraction here in our little hamlet by the sea and it carries tourists back and forth from the boardwalk to the redwoods in Felton where folks can wander around and take a look at those majestic trees that they certainly don’t have back home in Nebraska.

As soon as the Thanksgiving turkeys are stuffed, the folks who operate the train take that as their clue to slap some twinkle lights on it, stock it full of hot chocolate and apple cider, get Santa to hop on board and blast all the Christmas carols you never knew you knew.  Yes, even that one.  Then they give rides at night!  Because what use would all those twinkle lights be during the day?  So each night the train goes back and forth and forth and back in front of our house chock full of folks singing and waving and waving and singing and peeking in our windows to make sure that we’re having a happy holiday, too.

It really is quite a spectacle.  Our friends who happen to come over for dinner or a game of cards or to celebrate DearSweetDave’s birthday and get to witness the holiday train can’t help but jump up from the table every time and run outside to wave and holler and sing right back.  Grown men turn into five year olds who think that Santa himself is finally going to bring them that erector set and cap guns they begged for all those years ago.  The women squeal with joy at the faces of the little children who squeal back at them as they wave and shout Merry Christmas. 

It’s a Holly Jolly Christmas, indeed.

I really want to go out and wave to the folks on the train as Nakedjen.  To stand naked on the corner and wave and shout Merry Christmas.  I don’t think I ever will do this, however.  Here is why I’m censoring myself. 

The tourists who purchased a ticket on that holiday train to the redwoods can really be divided into three categories.

Those that will notice that I am naked and be offended.
Those that will notice that I am naked and who will not care.
Those who will not notice at all.

The train is mostly filled with families with their small children.  Mothers and fathers who want to give their kids a bit of magic during the Christmas season.  The kids’ ages are generally under 10.  There are also some grandparents thrown into the mix and of course there are a few teenagers and young couples along for the ride.  I imagine there are even a few people who look upon that caroling train as a respite from the regular hustle and bustle of the every day holiday madness. 

Any of these folks could fall into any of those three categories. I’m guessing, though, that should the train come up the street and those folks were to actually see me standing on the corner outside my house waving to them and wishing them a Merry Christmas,  that the moms and pops with the kids are going to be the ones who are most mortified and who will be jumping to hide their children’s eyes.

The kids?  I’m not sure the kids would really even notice.  Well, they would notice, but I don’t believe they would be offended.  I know they would ask why that lady was standing there naked?!  But offended?  Unless they’ve already been taught to be ashamed of their very own beautiful bodies, no.  Not offended.

The teen-age boys?  They’ll notice and hoot and holler.  The teen-age girls?  They’ll also notice and giggle in complete and utter embarrassment.  Or not have any reaction at all other than a jaw dropped so wide that you could actually drive the entire Christmas train right through the gaping hole where their smile should be.

As for grandma and grandpa, well, it will be tough to predict.  It all depends on how they feel about their own bodies, really.  And nudity.  They’ll either look at me as a woman who is exposing herself and should be arrested, or as a woman who is exposing herself and should be applauded or as a woman who is just standing there naked and someone should go find her a coat because it’s damn cold outside!

We’ll never really know, though.  I’m not going to get naked and wave to the holiday train.  Because while I am about being naked in public and even sometimes shocking people with my nakedness in public venues, I am not, ever, about putting parents in a position where they feel it is necessary to cover their children’s eyes or make excuses for the naked lady on the street corner.

It is very true that one of my biggest wishes for this world is that each and every person can embrace their bodies, love their bodies, and be comfortable in the skin in which they walk this planet.   I want all children to be given the gift of utter joy in their bodies and of experiencing no shame when they look in the mirror.  However, I will leave those lessons to their own parents.   

I will just get naked for all of you.  And wave.  And wave.  And wave.

Ask, Believe and Open to Receive

So to continue on my theme of the greatest gifts I received as a child...

Last Friday evening, when we were at Santana Row to celebrate DearSweetDave's birthday, we had a walk around after our meal.  When we passed by Z Gallerie, there was a very large reindeer standing next to a couch in one of their displays.  It was, actually, really lovely!  And I made mention to DearSweetDave and Matt and Lisa that when I was seven I asked Santa for Rudolph for Christmas and I got him.  DearSweetDave immediately replied, "And that was when Nakedjen was ruined forever!  She then believed that she could ask for absolutely anything and get it!"  They all laughed at this, but you know what?  I don't think I was ruined forever.  Quite the opposite.  And here's why.

When I was seven I was at that age where I knew, with some certainty, that Santa didn't really exist.  In fact, I had discovered that hidden beneath the hanging gowns in my parent's very large closet was a whole sleigh full of toys.  Toys that my sisters and I had requested when we were perched upon Santa's knee in his little house outside of the Woolworth's store over at the Nylon Capitol Shopping Center. 

If those presents were in my parent's closet, I was pretty sure that Santa hadn't deposited them there early as a way to circumvent having to deliver them on Christmas Eve.  As much as I wanted to believe, I just couldn't quite bring myself to believe in a Santa that had a worldwide toy distribution network that included hiding presents in parent's closets.  For my seven year old brain, that just didn't add up.

My younger sisters, however, were just 3 and 4 at the time.  Which means that they were quite still very much in the throes of the Santa is Real and reindeer can fly mentality.  As mean as I can be as their older naked sister, I still had a heart and didn't want to ruin it for those two munchkins.  I suppose there was a part of me that also really still wanted to believe.  That there was magic in Christmas. 

So to test Santa (oh, yes, I was going to test Santa) I asked for Rudolph.  As in the red-nosed reindeer.  The real one.  Who could fly.  Please. 

That was all I requested that year.  Just Rudolph.  And to be sure that Santa got the message loud and clear, I went and sat on his lap at least a dozen times.  Just to remind him. 

It didn't matter to me (I suppose I was quite selfish, huh?) that if Santa gave me Rudolph it meant that Rudolph would no longer be guiding his sleigh to deliver all those toys every Christmas Eve.  To me, Rudolph represented a bigger promise.  The promise that Santa was real.  That I was a good girl and that if I believed, Santa would deliver.

During the week that led up to Christmas I kept a very close watch on the closet of pre-delivered toys.  And there were no reindeer droppings.  No flashing red noses peaking from between NakedMom's holiday gowns.  Nada.  If Santa was bringing me Rudolph, he was doing it on Christmas Eve!

When Christmas Eve arrived, I could barely sleep.  There was a very large part of me that wanted so desperately to believe that I was going to be the only child in the world with her very own flying reindeer living in her backyard.  I had drawn up elaborate plans of the stable I was going to construct in the backyard for Rudolph and I had even carefully thought out exactly how I would take him to school to show off as the thing I got for Christmas.

On Christmas morning, our family had a tradition of going first into our family room to empty our stockings of the usual fare of toothbrushes and oranges and other toiletries.  Why Santa always filled our stockings with toiletries is something I will never quite understand, but it is always what we got!

Once finished with our stockings, we would then move from the family room into the formal living room where we always had our tree and where Santa always left our presents.  As we rushed into the room that morning my first thought was one of huge disappointment.  There was no Rudolph!  My sisters had their Shopping Shirley and their Barbie Airplane, but me?  Nada.

And then I happened to look toward the front door of our house.  There, peeking into the big plate glass window, was a deer.  With a bright red shiny nose.  Santa had delivered!

Santa, it turns out, had gotten a deer from some liquor store window display.  A life size deer.  And his elves had even gone to the trouble of painting its nose a shiny red.  It was wearing a name tag on its halter that said, of course, Rudolph.  And as I pondered the fact that this wasn't the REAL Rudolph, but a "fake" one, my parents quickly reminded me that Santa couldn't possibly part with the real Rudolph.  But they were sure that this Rudolph was filled with the magic and spirit of the real one, all the same.  That it probably even could fly, if I wanted it to.

Santa had brought me Rudolph.  I had asked, he had delivered.  I wasn't ruined on that day, at all.  There are things that all of us long for, that all of us wish we could have.  Some as simple as a reindeer with a red nose who can fly.  My seven year old self just wants to take this opportunity to remind all of you that all you need to do is ask, believe, and leave yourself open to receive.

Happy Solstice.

There's No Such Word As Can't

I have seen the trailer for the movie The Pursuit of Happyness countless times now.  Every time I see it, I cry.  Without exception.  Tears flow down my cheeks.  And I'm not even PMSing and usually am not a sap.  At all.

When I was growing up I was told by my parents, but by NakedMom especially, that there was no such word as can't.  It was our family motto.  She had been taught that by her own father.  Whenever she heard any one of us say, "I can't..." she would immediately respond with "There's no such word as can't.  Of course you can!" 

I want to tell all of you right now that I received no greater gift from my mother and father than the knowledge that the word can't was not in our family lexicon. 

Because of that gift, I grew up in a world where all things were possible.  And I mean all things.  It didn't matter what it was or how absolutely crazy it seemed, whatever I wanted to do, I could do it.  Absolutely!  I just had to jump. 

My parents, both of them, but in the case Albert more so than NakedMom, also instilled a huge sense of pride in me.  It wasn't just enough to go for my dreams.  To take the risks.  To jump and trust that I would absolutely succeed and land on both of my feet.  I also had to be the very best Nakedjen that I could possibly be.  To give 110%.  At all times. 

Again, I see this as a gift.  I believe in myself first.  I believe in my dreams.  I trust that I will always succeed.  That whatever I want to do, I can do.  That if I just go for it, no matter what it is, as long I stay true to myself, hold on tight to my biggest dream, I will achieve it.  It will always come true.  And many times it will be more beautiful and fulfilling than I ever imagined possible.

It is my wish that all children can be given this gift.  Just as Chris Gardner tells his son that he should never let anyone tell him that he can't do anything, that he should hold onto his dreams, it is my hope that our children will all be told that there is no such word as can't.  That whatever they dream, they can absolutely do.  And that they should dream big.  Really, really big.

P.S.  A thank you, a big fat thank you, to NakedMom and Albert.  It really was the best gift two parents who were just doing the best they could do could have ever given to their children.  I think we all turned out okay.  All three of us certainly know how to dream BIG!

 

Some Random Blah, Blah, Blah...

let's go back in time to last thursday, shall we? and we'll do a proper update on the life and times of nakedjen starting then. because goodness i think even i could use a proper refresher for my memory cells.

so thursday. i woke to find an email from my friend grace inviting me to have breakfast at zachary's with her and leah of the blog leah peah. if you haven't checked out leah's blog, you should. having now met leah in person, i can testify that she's just fabulous. really.really.fabulous.

i was thrilled to be invited to share breakfast with them even if it meant i would have to arrive in dog walking attire, which i absolutely did. our waiter was hilarious, we all giggled together over some of the more interesting aspects of the mormon religion and grace did kegels to help me manifest the big fat dream house that i am absolutely sure will be ours in june.

in a word, it was delightful.  perfectly delightful.

from there i rushed to my spiritual abundance gathering and remembered to take a box of dreamsweet teas with me as shannon is practically opening a store of my goods in her massage clinic. go shannon! she's the beginning of much bigger and greater things for dreamsweet, i promise. baby steps to giant steps. but steps and more steps, all the same.

shannon was presenting that day about her own dreams for her massage practice and she revealed that she's just been hired at five branches! go shannon. she rocks. i told her she's so inspirational because she just keeps saying, "i'm going to..." and then whammo. it happens. like sometimes before she even finishes her sentences. i love that!

so we all did some major visualization for shannon and her big dreams which include some pretty darn physical challenges (she is just a rock star, plain and simple) and then after the meeting i came home and started planning dearsweetdave's birthday weekend.

he wanted both a flourless chocolate cake and a pumpkin pie for his birthday gathering which was technically on saturday. but the gathering he planned was an ALL DAY AFFAIR. starting at 11:00 a.m. on saturday morning. so in reality, i wasn't sure when the cake and pie would be cooked.

i ran into nickie at the dog park and asked if buddha and stella could come to spend friday night and spend saturday at her house. stella's new boyfriend was going to be there so i knew they'd have a really good time and it would mean i would have those two hours i usually spend walking/running them on saturday morning to bake. she said yes, so i made plans with her to pick them up on friday afternoon.

and then thursday night i spent working on our holiday card. our holiday card which, as you all know, i'm always well just wanting to be at least somewhat creative. and this year we almost just sent a card with no graphic at all and just the words: THIS IS IT! THE HOLIDAY CARD YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR! and then on the inside...DID IT MEET YOUR EXPECTATIONS?

har!

but inspiration struck.  and well, while it isn't our most clever of cards, it is suitable and will suffice.

so yeah.  worked on it.  dearsweetdave went to improv.  and when he came home we crashed.  hard.

which brings us to friday morning. i spent the early morning hours with the dogs doing their regular routines. and then brought them home and started working on dearsweetdave's flourless chocolate cake. i have forgotten, completely, how absolutely labor intensive that particular cake is. it is my own recipe. my own rather silly recipe. that calls for 16 oz of bittersweet chocolate, a pound of butter and 8 eggs. in a nine inch cake pan. imagine. and then i make this organic raspberry reduction sauce to go with it as well as fresh raspberries and whipped cream. the whole thing is like a heart attack on a plate.

i got to working on that. the labor intensive part is the melting of the chocolate with the butter and the mixing of the two so that nothing separates or overcooks. just takes FOREVER. and then it has to be just the right temperature to whisk in the eggs or it all is a disaster. so yeah.

but i managed.  and created a cake that must have weighed 20 pounds.  or at least it felt like it did. 

as soon as i pulled it from the oven, i rushed out the door to hop in the car and drive over the hill to my acupuncture appointment with angie. i stopped at party america and bought dearsweetdave every pirate party favor you can possibly imagine. he decided he was having a pirate birthday party on saturday, so i decided he needed pirate paraphenalia. okay then! jolly roger flags. hats. scarves. eye patches. gold earrings. plates and napkins. i went a bit nuts. and refused to get any of the pirates of the carribean stuff. everything i got him was traditional pirate stuff. yaaarr!

so that done, i went to angie and she put needles in all the right places and left me to let the needles do their magic. it was fantastic. i was there for TWO HOURS. lovely. when i finished i called naomi and before going to her house i headed to whole foods and picked up some yummy cupcakes and fruit tarts for dave's dinner which we were having at straits cafe later that evening.

got to naomi's and we hopped in the car and went in search of rain boots. which were impossible to find. who would have imagined? they should have been everywhere, one would think. but they were not! but we did manage to find lots of fun things at restoration hardware. i got dearsweetdave lots of cool retro toys. and we were able to drop the desserts off at straits so i got that out of the way.

took naomi home and then headed back to straits. hooked up with matt, lisa and dave and we all had a fabulous meal. their food is REALLY good. we sat outside and just had a really lovely meal. for three hours. long and relaxing. and the desserts were a hit. and then we spent the rest of the night wandering around santana row. which was fun since it was all lit up for the holidays. we didn't have to rush home because buddha and stella were at the dog sitters. so i didn't have to worry about them at all. and you know what? i felt TERRIBLY GUILTY about that, but at the same time i really loved being able to just not worry about what time it was and take our time.

(have to post...stella and buddha need to go to the dog park. so i'll be back...obviously we're only on friday...there's loads more!)

Still Breathing

Contrary to the popular belief from the email I've received this week, I didn't go off to Los Angeles and forget to come back.  We had a fabulous time at the wedding, but not enough to make me not want to come home to Santa Cruz.

Tomorrow, Friday, is DearSweetDave's birthday.  So I've sort of been focused on that ever since we got home on Monday.  Trying my best to make it special for him since he really is so special to me. 

Today I had the pleasure of having lunch with GraceD and Leah Peah.  Wow.  Women who make you want to just be a much better you.  Really.  It was just what I needed.  Like the Universe was giving me a good old jolt in the arm and reminding me exactly why I am on the planet.

So yeah.  That's always good and especially necessary just before the Winter Solstice.

Promise there has not been blog abandonment.  I'm here.  I've got lots to say.  Now to just sit down and actually type!

By the way, I got naked with the Bride and Groom at their wedding.  If I keep this up, I might actually have a coffee table book soon.  This is my fourth "I got naked at the wedding" wedding. 

Soon we'll have the DJ making annoucements.  And now, ladies and gentlemen, Nakedjen will get naked with the Bride and Groom.  Please hold your applause. 

La La La Land

we're leaving. for los angeles. i have no earthly idea what i've packed because i just basically closed my eyes and threw things in the direction of the suitcase. i believe i have enough shoes for all the children of guatemala. have no idea where that reference came from, but there's no reason why i should be bringing an entire suitcase of shoes for two days in los angeles. except? except that i can't possibly decide right now which shoes are the right shoes for this wedding. not possible. so all the shoes are coming. they'll enjoy their little vacation, i'm sure.  you can rest assured that there is glitter and underwear.  if nothing else, i will be sparkly!

i have also packed the dogs. they were a bit easier. they're going to their most favorite dog sitters for the next two days. where they get to sleep on the bed. don't tell them that this is how most dogs sleep all the time. i want buddha and stella to truly believe that this is for very special occasions only. like sleepovers! when mom and dad are away!! hooray!!!

we'll be back on monday. with pictures of the wedding to share. i almost wrote with pictures of the most fabulous wedding of 2006 to share, but you know what? we went to that fabulous wedding in sweden this year. that wedding was just spectacular. and i know that this wedding will be just as special. but i certainly can't say the most fabulous. perhaps i'll just say one of the most fabulous weddings of 2006. because we all know that weddings, well, they're just fabulous in general.

that's how love is.  especially when you're celebrating it.