nakedjen

Quite the Quagmire

so, i have quite the quagmire. i have a feeling there will be quite a few opinions about this and honestly, i'm interested in hearing them all.  so i do hope that you'll share. 

today, while i was walking the dogs at city creek, i had a man expose himself to me. of course, because i'm me, nakedjen, i wasn't even offended. i actually laughed. not at him, really.  no, really.  i was laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation.  that of all the people in salt lake city, this man chose me, nakedjen, to expose himself to and had no idea that i wasn't going to even bat an eyelash!  and then i tried to talk to him about it. which i think scared the hell out of the poor guy because he zipped up and went scurrying off into the woods.

yes, i know it probably wasn't the wisest thing to do to try and talk to this guy about his exposed erect penis. i get it. but i'm nakedjen. i also was with buddha and stella. and in a public park. i don't know? i didn't feel threatened. and his public display of nudity and arousal didn't offend me or bother me.

but that's the thing.  i know he wanted his display to offend me.  or bother me.  and i know i should report him to the police. 

but i don't think i'm going to do that. 

and here's why.

i'm nakedjen. i get naked in public. often. and how is it any different, really, than what he did to me? i know the intent is different. but i don't go and ask all the people who are around at the time for permission to get naked before i do it. i just do it. and i don't ask if the folks who are around are going to be offended or not? i just get naked.

how is this really that different? i'm exposing my body. my WHOLE body. to anyone and everyone. on public streets. walking down them, even. waving at trains! knocking on my neighbors' doors.  how is this any different?

i am not sure that it is, in all honesty. 

i can honestly say i'm not doing it to get a sexual turn on from it. or to try and offend anyone. or to even try and scar anyone for life, contrary to what my niece Heather would have you believe!

i do it because i truly love being naked. but i am still exposing my naked body (which i think is beautiful and should be CELEBRATED...all of our bodies should be celebrated) to the eyes of everyone else who is present.

and our culture is such that doing so is considered OFFENSIVE. 

which is more about my issue here. that this public act of nudity is considered offensive. i'm not sure that it should be. it's just a naked body. which each and every one of us have. we all have a naked body underneath our clothes. and it is just that culturally we have chosen (or perhaps more appropriately have been brainwashed) to find that naked body offensive.

i, personally, don't find it offensive. just as i didn't find the man who was naked in the dog park this morning offensive in the least.

so i won't be calling the police. because i was not offended. but i still am struggling with the fact that my body offends, that he was hoping to offend with his nudity, and that we as a culture find nudity offensive.

that's quite a quagmire. especially for someone who calls herself nakedjen.

Not So Friendly Salt Lake City

This morning I walked out to my car with the dogs as I decided I would take them up Emigration Canyon for a hike today rather than our usual trek to Memory Grove.  As I was passing my car to load the dogs into the back of it, I noticed that there was a rock that is usually IN my car on the ground next to my car.  I thought that was kind of odd but then immediately assumed that perhaps it had fallen out at some point over the past week or so and I had just not noticed. 

I have a lot of rocks on my dashboard.  I know this sounds odd.  Or not.  Buddha collects rocks.  Stella collects balls.  On my dashboard I have a rather substantial collection of Buddha's rocks.  And some of Stella's balls.  The baseballs, to be precise.  Because they're leather, I keep them in the front part of the car so that she won't eat them.  All her other balls are in the back rolling around with Buddha and Stella. 

There are hundreds of balls.  I'm not making that up.  That part of Clyde that could find the one lost tennis ball in Antarctica?  Stella inherited that part of Clyde.  Yesterday, for example, she was so determined to find a ball, any ball, that she scrounged around in the bushes at East High School for what felt like FOREVER and then appeared all happy with herself and dropped, no joke, a microscopic piece of super ball onto my foot.  I had to examine it just to ascertain exactly what it was!  But she was determined to have me throw it for her so she could fetch it. 

Silly dog.

So there was the rock that is usually in my car on the ground next to my car and after I put the dogs into the back of the car I walked around and got in.  And then I noticed that my glove compartment was opened.  And all of its contents were strewn about the floor.  And most of Buddha's rocks were missing.  Also missing was my satellite radio receiver and my iPod and the stuff used to connect it to my stereo system plus about $40 in cash. 

I suppose whomever took this stuff decided I have absolutely ATROCIOUS taste in music because they deigned to leave behind my entire collection of CD's that was also in the car. 

I know this kind of thing happens every single day.  I know these are desperate times and folks are taking to desperate measures to make ends meet.  And it isn't even about the stuff.  Because stuff can be replaced.  Easily.  It's just stuff.

It just bothers me that this kind of thing happens at all.  That we are a society where we feel so desperate that we'll break into a locked car and steal an iPod and a radio to make some quick cash for a quick fix. 

I know this problem is happening everywhere.  Not just here.  But it makes me feel like Salt Lake isn't quite as friendly as I thought. 

PieNBeer Day!

I realize that I now live in Utah and that this is not California or Washington, D.C. or New York or London or any of the other places that I've lived.  I am still trying to sort the deeply rooted cultural traditions here out.  Thursday we all got drunk, set off a lot of explosives and celebrated Pioneer Day.

On Thursday morning as we were walking to the Pioneer Day Parade that was actually quite close to my house I asked my niece Heather who has never lived anywhere other than Utah her entire life what was the whole purpose of this Pioneer Day business?  Could she please explain?

"I don't know, it's the founding of the state, I guess?"

"The founding of the state?  Like when it became a state?  Joined the Union?  All this for that?"

"Well, no, it's more than that.  It's when we got here and became a state!"

"Who's 'we'?  You mean the Mormons?  Is today really a religious holiday disguised as a Statehood Celebration?"

"No.  It's about the Pioneers arriving."

"Which Pioneers?"

"Brigham Young.  I don't know?  We learned about it at school in History class.  It's the day they arrived in the valley or something."

"So it is a religious holiday.  That's why the Tabernacle Choir is performing with the Osmonds!" 

"Jennifer, stop making it all about the Mormons.  It's about Utah.  It's about all of us!"

"Well, Heather, I'm just trying to figure it all out.  We don't have celebrations like this in California.  We have Gay Pride parades.  But we don't have huge parades with 150 floats all depicting pioneers dragging hand carts across the plains and building temples!  We just don't!"

"Well, then you people in California don't care about your heritage.  But you live in Utah now.  So you need to care so you'll fit in!"

"Or not!"

"Right.  It's you.  Or not!  Of course not!  Can we go now?  This parade is really boring!" 

"Oh sure, Heather.  I'm not going to ever fit in anyway..."

Later that afternoon, I went to a party.  Because it was a holiday, of course there were parties. 

My friends, being oh so clever, actually decided to commemorate Pioneer Day as PieNBeer Day.  With Pie and Beer. 

Oh, yes, I do believe I might just fit in here in Utah after all.

Just look at the fabulousness that ensued.

We were joined by one of Jeffs' many wives!  Can you believe it?  And the uber famous SLC bloggerista was there!

It isn't a true Mormon Celebration without Jello, as I've stated so many times before.  Of course, since we're not Mormon, my friends added the evil alcohol to the Jello.   I can attest that this absolutely did NOT make it any more palatable. 

Of course there were PRIZES awarded for our awesome pie-baking efforts.  Mine was an all organic, all vegan berry and coconut pie.  And I can tell you it was really yummy.  I whipped it up with stuff I found in the kitchen.  I'll totally share the recipe.  It was almost TOO easy. That really famous SLC dog, Penny, came to celebrate, too.  Can you believe all the celebrities at this party?  I mean, just look:

My advice?  When in Utah, embrace the culture.  It doesn't necessarily mean you have to eat ALL the Jello or slather mayo on your body parts, but you might just want to put on your bonnet and have a little PieNBeer. 

It's 108. This Is HONESTLY The Best I Can Do

I went to see the new X-Files movie today.  And while I was driving there I noticed that the temperature outside?  The air?  Well, it felt like the Mormons had all turned their high voltage hair dryers on at the exact same time on the hottest and highest setting possible and were blowing them directly in my face.  Full-blast.

It was so hot I was actually having trouble breathing.  Yes.  That kind of hot.

So I decided that I'd actually check, you know, to see how hot it was?  Because it felt like I had descended to that section of Hell reserved for the people who truly have made pacts with the Devil.  And I hadn't remembered signing any special papers lately with anyone who had horns or a pointy tail, but then, you know, sometimes the Devil doesn't actually LOOK like the Devil when you're signing the papers.  He only turns into the Devil seven years later after you've been sleeping with him for a while. 

The thermometer in my car which is usually off by about two or three degrees on the side of actually being COOLER than the real temperature outside said that it was 108.  People, may I remind you that I am a girl that for the last twenty years has lived beside an ocean where the temperature in July rarely climbs above 70? 

108! 

Knowing that, I, of course immediately got Naked.  Thank goodness it is Friday and I have my "special pass" so I can't possibly be arrested for wandering the streets of Salt Lake without clothes.  If the police ask, I'll just show them that pact I signed with the Devil seven years ago and tell them to go take it up with him.

Yes, I realize these pictures are not quite the naked photos you're used to receiving.  I got a new camera.  I need to get a tripod and a remote. 

I promise I'll have a chat with the Devil about that the next time I see him.

So What Will It Be, Now That You're Three

Dear Buddha and Stella,

Today you are three.  My mother, Emily Gilmore, wants you to know that this means that the Terrible Twos are behind us. 

I feel quite confident that Stella, in particular, is ignoring that statement from Emily, since she started the celebrations off this morning by waking up and vomiting all over the carpets.  Lovely mucous filled yellow vomit.  Directly where I would step in it. 

Stella always has been the overachiever of the two of you (sorry, Buddha, but you really do ride the short bus and I'm grateful that we have Stella in our lives so she can watch out for you and keep you from actually being HIT by the short bus when you're waiting to go to school!) and I'm sure in her mind she knew that it just isn't a party until someone vomits so she wanted to be sure your birthday got off to a proper start today.

Thank you, Stella. 

I know that this last year of your life has not a particularly easy one.  I uprooted you from your very comfortable existence in Santa Cruz where you romped in the ocean and ran illegally on the beaches day and night tormenting the wildlife and the small children and moved you to a place that had an abundance of frozen white stuff all over the ground.  Not only that, but I forced you both to live in a house that had very faulty heat and no insulation and had previously been inhabited by crack dealers.  I know we spent the first few months telling all those people that there were no more drugs available and I really must thank you both for rising to the occasion and being such marvelous watch dogs.

Also, I need to thank you, profusely, for guarding my own heart so carefully.  It was pretty broken when we arrived.  As shattered into small and fragile pieces as any heart has ever been.  I was quite certain that it was never, ever, ever going to be whole again.  That there was no glue on this planet strong enough to mend it. 

Who knew that dog saliva can mend a broken heart? 

Your kisses every single morning and every single evening and all day long are honestly, swear to goddess as my witness, the only thing that kept me going on many of those long and dreary days.  I knew you needed me.  I may have been abandoned, but there was no way on earth I was abandoning the two of you.  Absolutely no way.  And those kisses that woke me up every morning, that forced me out of bed, that reminded me that you needed breakfast, that you needed a walk, that you needed dinner? 

Slowly, but oh so surely, those kisses gently gathered each sliver and shattered piece of my heart and glued it back together.  It beats strongly now.  It is even remembering how to love.  I promise that it never stopped loving the two of you.  Ever.

So now that you're three, there's a bigger secret I want to share with the two of you, my constant companions, guardians of my heart and all that is special to me. 

It's about that guardian bit.  I still think it's quite important since you do carry my heart on all eight of your paws that you do so gently and carefully.  But, I want you to know that we live in a very safe neighborhood.  And those people who are walking past?  The ones you feel the need to bark ferociously at like you'd rip them into tiny one inch by one inch pieces if you were just given the chance?  Those people?  Those other dogs who dare to step on the sidewalk outside our house? 

All that barking?

It's not necessary.  Really.  It's making me batty and making me consider getting you both your own house down the street.  A house where the two of you can bark all you want.  The Bark House.  But this house?  This house will become the No Bark Zone.

So what will it be, now that you're three?

Shall we give it a try?  No Bark Zone?  Let the folks and their dogs walk on by without going ballistic?  Let the leaves fall from the trees without alerting the authorities? 

We're all okay, Buddha and Stella.  We really are.

Love,

Your Mama

 

Sure Won't Get Invited For A Doggy Playdate Now

As we all know I am not the only blogger in Salt Lake.  There are lots of us.  In fact, the blogging community of Salt Lake has done a really good job of making me feel really welcome here and right at home!

Before I moved here in January, I was told by more than a few people whom are mutual friends of mine and hers that I should definitely let Heather know I was moving here and that if nothing else perhaps we could take the dogs to the dog park together.

I will admit that I have been reading Heather's blog since before Leta was born and have written to her on many occasions especially when she's been seeking advice for her constipation.  I have some great holistic advice for that, so I thought I'd try to help.  Buddha and Stella have also sent Chuck some organic dog treats.  Just because. 

And I've also written about Heather on this blog because I've had some pretty freaky dreams about being Leta's nanny.  So, it doesn't surprise me, actually, that I've never received any response from her at all.  She probably thinks I'm a total freak.  She is a former Mormon and I'm a NAKED person.  Despite the FORMER part of being Mormon, she's still been a Mormon and I have a feeling that all my NAKEDNESS might be a bit much for her.  She's probably worried that if she has me over to the house, I'll whip out my boobs and Jon might decide that having more than one wife is not such a bad idea after all! 

Of course, Buddha and Stella were sad that they didn't get a thanks from Chuck for the cookies, but we all know that Chuck is a very important dog with very important duties as the Top Dog in the Blurbodoocery and I'm sure it was just an oversight.  At least that is what I told them.

Anyway, this weekend for those of you in the blogosphere who are not paying attention, was Blogher.  Which is a blogging conference for women that really is more about making sure you have the right high heels and your eyebrows waxed and meeting all the people whose blogs you read IN REAL LIFE than it is about anything else.  No, really, it is. 

One of my favorite new bloggers is there.  And as you can see, if you read that post, she referred to Heather as a mythical character.  Like Jesus!  Or Santa Claus!  Or a Hobbit!!  I heard that Heather didn't like this.  And said so during the closing Keynote at Blogher. 

And that Jenny, because she is a BadAssJenny (we do rule the UNIVERSE, you know) got up and actually addressed her directly!  To say, "Um excuse me, I love you.  I even bought your fucking book!"  But in response received a not so happy look from Heather.

So, I just have this to say.  Since I'm not there.  And Heather doesn't return my calls anyway. 

Heather, please.  You are adored and revered by the entire Internet and BEYOND.  You really are like Jesus.  For those of us with our lowly blogs who just plug along waiting for anyone to stumble upon us, you, Heather, are the Angel Moroni blowing your own trumpet high on top of the temple and the rest of us are just praying we're going to get a temple recommend so we can join you inside. 

But, the rest of us are never going to get there.  We'll get somewhere, of course, just not there.  The internet gods only give out so many temple recommends and I think they've all been snatched up!

Relax, Heather.  Enjoy it up there on top of the mountain.  The rest of us are not trying to steal your magic ring and we're not trying to knock you off the chimney.  We're just hoping you're not going to put coal in our stockings.  Okay? 

What I Miss MOST About Living In Santa Cruz

I promise, Gromit, that I haven't changed.  All that much.  But the nudity laws in Salt Lake are much more prudish and strict than the nudity laws in Santa Cruz. 

To wit, this article.

While the woman drew the attention of many, Wallace Baine said, "People were surprisingly blasé about it. People were giving her space. I don't think anyone wanted to confront her."

However, a man sitting on a bench at Cathcart and Pacific reached out and kissed her hand, to which she replied "thank you."

I walked down Pacific Avenue naked myself more than once.  And we all know I walked around my own neighborhood which was just two blocks off Pacific Avenue without nary a care naked all the time. 

Here?  I have ventured next door.  And I caused the neighbors to abandon their home and move far, far away! 

I am determined, however, to change things around here.  To walk naked down the street and have folks realize that it isn't a big deal.  To sit at my favorite cafe, sip a latte and not have anyone even notice.

Really, I am.  It's just taking me a while to figure it all out.  Because I don't enjoy jail cells. 

And unlike my beloved police in Santa Cruz who are going to just smile and nod and keep riding their bicycles, I think the police here are going to cart me off to jail. 

So, I'm working on it. 

But in the meantime, I am still naked.  Just being a tad more discreet. 

Play Dead

We're still sticking to our efforts to be healthy around here.  I must say that the dogs are WORN OUT from all the walking.  No, seriously.  They spend the rest of the day like they're taking very strict classes with Lee Strasberg at the Actor's Studio in playing DEAD.  We walk in the door, they eat their breakfast and then each assumes the DEAD DOG position and neither moves until about 6:00 p.m. when one or the other of them will lift a head to assure me that they are, in fact, still alive and raise an eyebrow (but nothing more) to inquire about an evening walk and dinner?

I know part of this is because it is so bloody hot here.  Not just hot.  Bloody hot.  I know there are some people who believe that it is not hot in Utah.  That it is pleasant.  That this weather is far preferable to the freezing temperatures we experience for most of the year when that white stuff falls randomly and without rhyme or reason from the sky, but for me, the Coastal California girl, this is BLOODY HOT.  I get sticky and feel as if my skin is melting right off my own face.

So, while I sit here with my skin making a pool on the floor around my DEAD DOGS, I contemplate eating a more healthy diet.  If I'm going to have my skin melting off my body, it can at least be healthy skin, right?

Of course now that I've said that, I'm going to share a recipe that isn't actually all that healthy.  However, I was craving something sweet.  And I was inspired by this recipe.  Actually, I'm often very inspired by quite a lot on that website and highly recommend that you mark it among your own favorites if you cook even somewhat regularly. 

The other day I went to my "secret store" and scored 2 pints of organic raspberries for just $2.  Yes, you read that correctly.  I also got 4 pounds of organic watermelon for $1.  Yes, again, you read that correctly.  We're so lucky to have the secret store here in Salt Lake City.  Of course next week I won't be able to get raspberries or watermelon, but there will be OTHER things that are just as good. 

I wanted to make something yummy with those raspberries.  And that recipe intrigued me.  However, I really am doing my best to eat a vegan diet these days.  And that recipe?  It is decidedly not vegan.  Butter, Eggs, Buttermilk!  All very much not part of the vegan diet.  In fact, a lot of sugar is not even vegan.

So, I made my own vegan version. 

ready to go in the oven. fresh from the oven!

I will admit that since moving to Salt Lake City, I have had to make some adjustments to my cooking, especially my pastry cooking, because of the altitude.  But I will share that this recipe turned out pretty darn tasty!  The combination of salt and sugar is really quite lovely.  And I'm so happy to have this as a morning option after walking the dogs.

They can play dead.  It just means more raspberries for me!

Story at 11:00

We'll begin our story this evening with two sisters celebrating the birth of one by sharing a lunch at a downtown mall in Salt Lake City.  Perhaps because one of those sisters happens to be Mormon and perhaps because we're actually in the Holy Land, the weather is actually cooperating today.  So much so that the birthday girl elects to eat outside on the patio.  The other sister, who has recently relocated to this hot desert locale from cool and comfortable and chic California marvels that it is actually possible to sit on the patio in the middle of the day and not melt.  And doing so she contemplates ordering a pomegranate margarita.  Because doesn't that just sound like something refreshing?  And decadent?  And something you should absolutely do when you're sitting on a patio in the middle of the desert in July? 

Why yes, it absolutely does.

However, she skips ordering the margarita.  The other Mormon sister who is celebrating her birthday doesn't drink, of course, and the other sister who is older even though she looks younger and is always asked if she is the youngest (probably because she acts like she is five most of the time) decides that she'll come back and drink on the patio another day.  With people who actually DO drink. 

Meanwhile, the NakedSister shares with the NeverNakedSister how nice it is to be celebrating her birthday with her and how far they both have come from those days when they committed such horrific and horrible crimes against one another and truly tried to kill one another.  It's a wonder, really, that they both survived.  Thank goddess for the Mormon Church and boarding schools.  Otherwise, who knows what might have happened?  It's really even better than that stuff they show on NBC these days, don't you think, asks the NakedSister?  You know when they're trying to catch the predator or tell the murder mystery?  The NeverNakedSister concurs and wonders just how much I'd ever tell if I ever did have my own television show?

The food arrives and the NeverNakedSister comments that the NakedSister can't possibly share hers because it has avocado on it.  But oh how delicious it is, she remarks.  So good.

And then just as the NakedSister is about to take another bite of her food, the NeverNakedSister notices that there is a big fat piece of avocado on her plate.  Deadly avocado.  For the NakedSister, that is.

The NeverNakedSister demands from the NakedSister to know if she KNEW she was eating avocado?  The NakedSister says she was sure her entree didn't have avocado, it was NOT listed in the ingredients on the menu, but that her chest is getting quite tight and she wondered why she was having an anxiety attack and thought it might have been because they had been talking about the architect?! 

The NeverNakedSister calls over the waiter.  "Is there avocado in that dish?"  He affirms that there is and then when he learns that the NakedSister is DEATHLY ALLERGIC to avocado tells her, "Well, you should have said something!"   Like the NakedSister pronounces her food allergies and preferences before dining in all establishments.  (Those of you whom have dined with the NakedSister can stop laughing now.  She can hear you!). 

The NeverNakedSister looks exasperatedly at the NakedSister and says, "Jennifer, it is always something with you.  Every.single.day.  Other people, once in a while.  You, every day.  You ARE like a television show.  I don't know how you live your life?!?!  It's supposed to be my birthday.  Today is supposed to be ABOUT ME.  But of course it is not.  It's ALL ABOUT YOU!"

As if I purposely had ordered the dish with the avocado so I could die a painful death of suffocation at the feet of my NeverNakedSister on a patio in July in this Holy City.  Without the aid of a margarita.  On her birthday!  I mean really?!

With my throat swelling, I swig as much water as possible (to try and dilute the avocado effect) and tell her that I promise I will suck it up and not ruin her birthday!  She wants to know how she is supposed to tell if I am dying?  I tell her that if I suddenly collapse that might be a good indication and to please call 911.  She wants to know what I've done for this in the past?  I tell her I've always just gone directly to the ER. 

We actually laugh at that point because she has no intention of spending her birthday at the ER.  Absolutely none.  So she tells me I need to keep breathing.  Please.  Just keep breathing.

Which is exactly what I did.  I kept breathing and breathing and breathing still.

Mabel

I think every person who has read even a small part of this blog even for a short time knows how I feel about dogs. 

There is a very special dog in St. Louis that has been loved for and cared for by some incredibly generous and loving souls.  That's actually putting it mildly. 

Mabel is a dog with a heart as large as Buddha and Stella and Clyde's all put together.  She hasn't had an easy time of it on this planet so far. However, I have every reason to believe that there is a very special human being on this planet who has been waiting for Mabel to carry his or her heart gently on her four paws.

You can read Mabel's incredible story here.  Love, lots and lots of generous love, has gotten her this far.

Now all she needs is your love to bring her home.