nakedjen

God Is Grace

Following is an email exchange that occurred this morning.  The rest, I feel pretty sure, is self-explanatory. 

so, despite the vomit issues, i'm going to santa cruz. november 7. driving. taking the dogs with me. staying with grace. thank goddess for grace. may also stay with chuck and lynda, too. basically, i'm going to go see MY PEOPLE and walk on the beach with the dogs and hang with holly and go to a party at gwendomama's and get lots of the hugs i really need.  and then i'll come home.

i do consider salt lake home. i really do. but i left a large part of me in santa cruz. and i feel like i need to "reclaim it" if that makes any sense at all? maybe pinky can relate? to how she feels about the bay area verses los angeles?

this isn't misery, per se, as much as it is "missing". there's something missing here. and i have a strong feeling that i'm not going to find it in santa cruz, either.  so santa cruz holds all my friends and all my memories.  but i hold those, too.  where ever i am.  because where ever you go, there YOU are, you know?

still i'm glad that i'm going.  i need to go.  so that i can come back.  and feel like Salt Lake is home.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

I'm glad you are having a party for me on my birthday - I love that you are celebrating me with your friends.  :)  Just kidding! 

I love that you are going.  GOOD.  You need to.  Just breathe through it all Jen.  You can do it.  Don't freak yourself out about it all, just let the trip get to you and get there and breathe.  Breathe in the ocean air.  Let yourself be cleansed.  And please, please, realize that

Santa Cruz

is NOT Dave's city.  It's not.  He doesn't own it.

I also think, that at some point, you have to stop holding on to being bitter about not having a choice about the end of your relationship with him.  You can't change it.  It's in the past and it's done.  Nothing you think, or do, can change the current out come.  You can only change how you move forward and what you hold on to.  It was shitty.  He bailed.  You didn't.  You can't change that.  Maybe if you can figure out how to let go of that you will be able to breathe a little deeper and not throw up. I love you.  You are stronger than you know.  I am so happy that you are going to SC.  Woot!

 

---

i go through phases about the end of my relationship.  some days i'm grateful to dave for being brave enough to actually end it.  other days, i'm still bitter.  because i still feel like it was a crappy way to do it?  does that make any sense at all?  that he didn't allow me to participate at all? all my attempts at conversation "about it" were just met with STONE COLD SILENCE and a roboton answer of "i've made my decision.  live with it".  it sucked.  and when we talked about it in june he told me that he had to be that way because he knew i am so persuasive and powerful that if he let me talk at all, i'd convince him to change his mind!  gah.  if he KNEW i could convince him to change his mind, was he so convicted in the first place.  THAT conversation haunts me. 

at this point it isn't like i want him back.  i don't.  and you're so right.  i can't change it.  i try very hard to just let it go and realize i will be better off even alone than with him.  but it still bothers me, on a cellular level, that i was not allowed to participate. at all.  that part just eats away at me.  even when i try as hard as i can to just release it!

marriage is about two.  as you know.  and is a commitment of two people.  to each other.  and it just feels so rudimentary that those TWO people would also make the decision together to end it. 

he will be a BUG in his next life, wendee.  and i will be a big fat doc marten boot that will squash him.  har!

i'll be sure to drink extra champagne punch on your birthday.  just for you! 

xoxox,

jen

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

I want to be a boot too, one that is a few steps behind you just in case I need to do some squashing!  I can think of a person or too I would squash in my next life. 

I do understand about being bothered by the way he treated you and how he ended things.  It was so immature.  And selfish.  IMO.

On to better things.  You.  The beach!  YAY!!  Buddha and Stella will love the smell the ocean too.  But I think they secretly love the snow and the canyons.  :)

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

wait a minute.  i was just thinking when are you going to be in california?  i will be driving right by your dad's house! 

yes.  totally selfish.

new house is amazing.  i realize how much i was not loving myself by spending so very many months in that old house and that horrific living situation.  life is much better now.  the dogs are so much happier. they've STOPPED shedding.  hello?  that is a clear indication they were stressed out in that old house.

office isn't set up yet.  it should be.  it just isn't.  i need to stop working this crazy ass job.  stella is pissed about it.  yesterday she ate two magazines.  i came home to confetti all over the house. like she and buddha had their own private new year's eve party.  she's just over this working all day every day business.  she wants me at home.  with her.  her own personal play toy. 

i want to be home with them, as well.  but as soon as i finish up here, we're driving to california!  and yes, i think they're happier here, actually.  the off-leash parks are MUCH BETTER here.  much, much, better.  still, i know they'll be happy to go on a road trip.  and to romp on the beach.  as will their mama.

xoxox,

naked

 

The Madness That Haunts Me

There are people, good friends, who are willing to show up with a shovel and bury the body should I go overboard.  I have no plans to go overboard.  In fact, I have no plans to do anything at all, really.  Other than write here, right now.

I am angry.  I am bitter.  I am terribly sad. 

September 18 marked the ten year anniversary of the day that I walked into what is now Lulu Carpenter's Coffeehouse and met David for the very first time.  That date that was supposed to be just a chat in a cafe ended up lasting until nearly four a.m. the following morning.  The only reason we didn't actually have sex that evening is because we both thought that would be "crazy." 

Ironically, it would also mark the 20 year anniversary of my life in Santa Cruz.  A life full of amazing shared adventures and a rich history of very very dear friends.  I treasure all those magical moments that made me, well, me.  I would not be Nakedjen if it were not for my posse in Santa Cruz.  I may have arrived there as an adult, but I promise you, I grew up there.  I discovered me.  I embraced me.  I loved me.

It isn't that I don't love me, now.  I do.  Certainly the past few weeks have been an eye-opening lesson in exactly how much more I love myself now than I did even a year ago when I made the decision to leave Santa Cruz.  However, I am angry and bitter and terribly saddened that I had to make a decision to leave Santa Cruz. 

When life imploded last year I received an email from a very old friend who cautioned me to not make any rash decisions and to definitely not move away.  He told me that leaving would only cause me additional pain and that I would find myself needing my own community in the months to come.

As with a lot of things in those first few months, I completely ignored this advice.  My life, as I knew it, stopped.  I was having trouble just remembering to breathe.  I was incapable of making rational decisions.  Making sure that Buddha and Stella received minimal care was about the extent of my capabilities. 

How I ended up in Utah, in one piece, with most of my belongings is still rather mysterious to me.  I know I made the decision to move here.  I know I sat in that yurt and said, "I'll get a job at Sundance" and I did exactly that.  I know it all just snowballed into an crashing avalanche that found me wandering the streets of Salt Lake half-naked on New Year's eve. 

I know this and I know I was complicit in all the events that got me here.

Still, I am angry.  I am bitter.  I am terribly sad.

I still feel as if I didn't get to truly participate in the ending of my marriage.  That I truly was not allowed to be a part of the conversation.  That I was just told that it was over.  That it was done.  That we were done.  That he was done.  David's story had reached THE END.

Last week, because I am missing my friends, my people, my community in ways that are truly palpable, I tried to purchase a plane ticket to Santa Cruz.  My thought was I'd visit for a few days and soak up the love I so desperately crave.  But as I was making the purchase, I literally started to vomit.  Not wanting to bang my head, I abandoned the tickets.

Vomit. 

I want to go home, again.   To soothe my lonely and saddened soul, I need to reclaim my little hamlet by the sea.  I must walk on the beach and smell the sea air and taste the oxygen on my tongue.  I need a hug.  I need a lot of hugs.  I need many many many hugs.  Hugs that are waiting for me in Santa Cruz.   

If only David wasn't there, as well.

I am angry.  I am bitter.  I am terribly sad.

 

 

Trick or Treat?

I attended two different Halloween parties on Saturday night.  I realize that Halloween isn't until next Friday and it really has me a tad confused all this pre-Halloween party celebrating. 

In Santa Cruz, we celebrate Halloween on Halloween.  With a very large parade. That lasts until well after the last bar has closed up shop and sent the drunken revelers home.  Our Halloweens are usually accompanied by police sporting riot gear and in the last few years there has even been some gang violence just for good measure.

But it is the Halloween tradition I have come to love and celebrate.  Halloween is my most favorite of all the holidays.  Perhaps because it is truly a pagan holiday.  It has not been co-opted by any religion trying to pass it off as a religious day as so many of our other holidays have become.  It is all about ghosts and goblins and, for me, about dressing up in one of my myriad of costumes and being even just a little more outrageous than I already am.  Plus it is a holiday where I can sport a tutu and little else and knock on doors and DEMAND chocolate!  What better holiday is there than that?

Earlier this week I asked Calvin (my source for all things Salt Lake) if there were any "must-do" Halloween activities here in this city.  Sadly, he told me that, no, there were not.  Not even a parade?  No, not even a parade.  People have to work, you know. 

Work?!?!  The parade is at night.  When witches and goblins and vampires belong on the streets of the city.  Haunting is done after sunset.  Who would have a Halloween parade during the day?  The afternoon is saved for the very smallest of children to trick-or-treat at all the merchants around town (and the homes, too) and then it is time for magic and mischief and revelry.  It becomes, quite literally, the bewitching hour. 

The thought of not having a parade just has me depressed.  Or did.  Until last night. 

While at the second party last night I mentioned that I just couldn't believe that Salt Lake didn't have a Halloween parade?!  At first everyone was just nodding their head in agreement and telling me that "THIS WAS NOT SAN FRANCISCO" and of course we didn't have a parade.

However, I found some brave souls at that party.  Souls who are willing to join me in the FIRST ANNUAL SALT LAKE CITY HALLOWEEN PARADE next Friday evening.  We're going to have sushi to fortify ourselves and then, then we're going to parade through the streets.  Because, honestly, what is Halloween without a parade?  And a parade is nothing more than a gathering of fun people walking together and being sure to give the very carefully practiced wave to those who stand-by to watch. 

I believe I'll be bringing candy to pass out to those who are standing by.  But I'm going to encourage them to join in.  In fact, if you're reading this and you live in the vicinity, please come.  No, really.  Please come and join in the parade. 

I promise it is going to be some of the most fun you've had in Salt Lake City.  And I also promise that despite the fact that it is a FRIDAY, you can keep your clothes on.  Unless, of course, you want to take them off.  I'll leave that totally up to you.   Trust me, I'm going to be more than happy to join you if you do!  For me, a naked parade would be the ultimate treat.

See you then!

 

If you dance like that in front of my friends I have to go live in another galaxy

I am pretty sure that Stella, being the smarter and more technically advanced of my two Labradors, has not only figured out how to actually manipulate the mouse for the laptop (she used to just eat them), but she has also taught herself how to surf the Internet. 

Either that or the dogs are having parties at the house with punk rock college kids while I’m slaving away at the hospital every day earning dollars for their very expensive organic dog food that they insist they must eat in order to survive on this planet.

 Did I mention that I recently ran out of their food? Totally by accident? And that to reward me for this faux pas they both went on a hunger strike that would have made Gandi proud? Yes, they most certainly did. Those dogs did not eat for three days. THREE DAYS! It didn’t matter what I offered them. They’d sniff around their bowls and just walk away. Even Stella. Stella who eats fifty three pages of best sellers when she’s pissed off at me. Walked away from her bowl of organic rice, oraganic chicken and vegetables. All because it was NOT her regular organic fare. Pfft. Spoiled dogs.

 The reason I’m fairly certain that Stella has taught herself how to surf the Internet is that when I do come home from slaving away at the hospital all day, Stella is very excited to meet me and to take me shopping for her latest Halloween costume idea. Costume ideas that I know are not coming from her brother, Buddha. And certainly haven’t been suggested by me.

 I don’t know who came up with the idea that dogs need Halloween costumes, but they’ve obviously found a perfect target customer in Stella. In the past week alone, Stella has decided she will be Marilyn Monroe. But no, after buying her costume, maybe not. It was too hard to walk in those stilettos. So, she’ll be a Bumble Bee. Then, no, she has to be a fairy princess. Not just any fairy princess, though. She wants to be a purple fairy princess. So we traipse over to DI to find her just the right purple fairy princess costume because the Bumble Bee is so yesterday’s news even though we’ve already found her the cutest dooleyboppers for her head! We search and find her wings and a lavender tulle tutu and a tiara and I triple check with her that, absolutely, this is the best costume ever in the history of costumes.

 So, of course, when I got home yesterday she’s waiting for me. The computer screen is open to Martha Stewart?!?!? And Stella is telling me that being a purple fairy princess is, well, just rather predictable. Don’t I think? Everyone else is going to be a purple fairy princess, too! Just look at Martha Stewart. She has costumes for every kind of fairy princess imaginable! Stella needs to be different.

 I suggest that perhaps she just be a black

Labrador

? How’s that for different? But that just causes her to burst into tears and tell me that I’m just mean! Mean!! Don’t I know that Halloween is her most favorite holiday of all the holidays in the world and she just has to dress up?! She has to let her inner freak flag fly! Even if she’s not sure what that is, she knows she has to fly it!

 Turns out that now she wants to go completely retro and be Judy Jetson. She saw it on Hulu while she was on the computer the other day. What? Of course she was on the computer. What do I expect her to do all day long while I’m at work? It’s terminally boring just lying around the house waiting for me to come home. Buddha sits there and meditates. Look, she knows she’s not old enough to date. She hasn’t signed up for an account on Dogster. She just wants to at least keep her brain occupied. Is there anything so wrong with that? It’s educational, the Internet. There are CATS on the Internet. People put things on them! It’s funny!!

Anyway, she asks, can we please go find her the perfect blonde wig to wear in a pony tail? And she’s going to need a hot pink space age dress. Can we go find her one, please? And some silver gogo boots? She seems most excited about the silver gogo boots.

Who is this dog?

When I ask Buddha what he plans on being for Halloween, he informs me that he is already Buddha, he is already one with everything, and this is more than enough. Stella snickers, though, that Buddha will be her dog Astro. He just doesn’t know it yet!

So Stella and I set out for DI yet again. In the hopes of transforming her into the perfect Judy Jetson. An hour, many assholes and elbows, and $7 later we emerge with the perfect blonde wig and the perfect hot pink space age dress and her silver gogo boots.

She’s thrilled and can’t stop yammering about how “cool” she’s going to be.  No other dog is going to be nearly as cool as she's going to be.  She's got the BEST costume.

 

I’m wondering if I hide the computer on the top shelf of the hall closet if she’s smart enough to find it there? Because there’s a whole week left before Halloween and that means seven more opportunities for Stella to change her mind about just what she must be!

It would make me happiest if she’d just dress up as a very well-behaved and mellow dog. I don’t think even I would recognize her!!

Afternoon Kombucha Notes

On Monday afternoon before I spent the evening with David Sedaris (hats off to Will and Liz P for figuring out what I never knew would be such a very obscure reference!) I had to drive to Murray for an MRI.  Of my brain.  There are folks here in Utah who want a closer look at it.  With contrast even!  I suppose they want to compare it to the other folks walking around this state.  Given that my brain is freshly arrived here and hasn't had all those Mormonly influences and thinks differently, I am guessing that they must believe there are secrets hidden in the crevices.  Secrets that can only be detected by sticking me in a long magnetic tube for ninety claustrophobic minutes and then sticking me with an IV for even MORE pictures. 

While I was driving to Murray, I was listening to NPR as I am wont to do while I am driving in my car (don't you do that, too??) and happened to actually catch that day's broadcast of Fresh Air.  I was particularly happy about this because it was an interview with Michael Pollan.  The same Michael Pollan who is the author of The Omnivore's Dilemma.  The same Michael Pollan who last week wrote a very compelling letter to the future President of our United States in the Sunday edition of the New York Times. 

I am going to encourage all of you to read his letter and to also listen to this broadcast.  He makes a very strong argument about food being a National Security Issue.  Our food chain's dependance on fossil fuels needs to be broken.  Our subsidies to farmers to grow mono crops need to stop.  We've removed the farmer from the farm and we're relying on a minute number of farmers to feed a staggering population.  Our food, quite frankly, has little to no nutritional value and we're creating a national health crises. (At some point in the future, we'll talk about my first grade boyfriend Tommy Butz and his grandfather, Earl, who killed the family farm!).

I also know that I blah, blah, blah about these issues all of the time.  However, taking care of our bodies and our planet are both very important issues for me.  Our food choices are a primary way in which we can make loving choices both for ourselves and for our planet.  Each and every time we choose something to eat, we can make a conscious choice about the life we want not only for ourselves but for our children and the future of this planet.

It really is that simple. 

Those of you who whine to me about the expense involved in eating an organic diet or a diet that is mostly comprised of locally grown foods, I can not abide by that.  I have been eating this way for over 20 years and I have to share that my grocery bill is always less than that of my friends who shop at Walmart!   The key is to make friends with your local farmers.  And trust me, they want to be your friend.  They want to share their bounty.  They want to have you enjoy the fruits of their labor.  They really do.

We just had the final Farmer's Market of the season here in Salt Lake last weekend and as I was lamenting to my favorite farmers about no longer being able to get their wonderful organic vegetables until next June, I was overjoyed to have them offer to provide me with vegetables all winter long!  This, for me, honestly, is bliss.  I am the first to admit that I'm the spoiled Santa Cruz girl still trying to find her way here in Utah who is quite used to having three farmers markets a week all year long.  So the thought of subsisting on sub par produce that has been trucked in thousands of miles to Whole Foods for the next eight months was making me contemplate wintering in Hawaii (which still isn't such a bad idea since I am not a fan of snow!).   However, three farmers (THREE!!) are going to be providing me with organic goodness.  It will certainly be enough to feed me and all my friends.  Who wants to come over for dinner?

In other news, I have to give a shout out to Queen Elizabeth today.  In a nod to the faltering economy, she's decided that while visiting Slovenia this week she'll wear the same outfit she wore just six months ago on another visit!  Imagine?!?!   

Not only that, but she's had her dressmaker make her a dress for the occasion from some material that was used for another dress previously.  Recycling!  By the Queen.  She also wants folks to know that she makes sure that all lights are turned off in those cavernous rooms in the Castle when no one is in them.  She's frugal, you know.  Not one to be wasting valuable resources.

What struck me about this news, actually, was my own four trunks of shoes that are still sitting in the garage waiting for a proper place in my new home.  I pondered how very many trunks of shoes and closets of clothes the Queen must have if she's making headlines because she's decided to wear the same dress twice?!  Of course she has multiple castles, so I'm sure she isn't worried about where on earth to keep all that clothing and all those shoes. 

However, what is it, exactly about needing so many outfits and so many pairs of shoes?  I also wonder if our (women's) obsession with shoes has kept us from truly breaking through the glass ceiling?  If it is because were so busy finding just the right shoes to go with just the right outfit we can't quite manage to actually navigate the corporate ladder?  Would Hillary have gotten the nomination if she had just stuck with one pair of sensible pumps?  Would we all have more respect for Sarah Palin if she actually showed up wearing some ass-kicking Caterpillar boots?**

The reason I actually own four trunks worth of shoes is because my foot has been the exact same size since I was in the fourth grade.  Think about that, people.  Fourth grade.  I have one very small foot.  I will not attempt to make you believe that I still have shoes from the fourth grade, although I will share that I was quite fond of Chuck Taylors in the fourth grade and I still own quite a few pairs of those.  Multiple pairs.  Multiple fashionable pairs. 

Our feet, as women, seem to be the one reliable body part we have.  Except for in pregnancy, our feet don't get fat.  They don't change size.  We can walk into just about any store, any where in the world, and know that the shoe is going to fit!  No matter who made it.  There's a comfort in that.  Even if the tag inside our clothes has suddenly jumped from a 4 to a 14, the size of our shoe?  It will always be the same. 

If you're like me, you also really like expensive shoes.  Or maybe a better way to put it is you like to have the shoes that no one else is going to have.  Actually, I'm like that about just about everything, but I am especially like that about my shoes.  Which means the shoes that I buy don't fall apart.  They last and last and last.  And since my foot is always the same size, well, it means you find yourself with four trunks of shoes.  In your garage.  Because the new house you just moved into only has one closet (ONE CLOSET) and when you're vying with Elizabeth to be Queen of the Shoes, you're going to definitely need a bigger castle.

** I heard this morning on NPR that Sarah Palin had a $150,000 wardrobe overhaul when she was selected by John McCain as his Vice Presidential nominee.  Which certainly begs the question, "Just how many shoes does she have?" as well as "Was she naked before she was nominated?"  I mean $150,000?  For clothing for the campaign trail?  Is that truly fiscally responsible?  In this economy?  You tell me.

After We Have Anal Sex, We Like To Eat Shortcake!

I am always sharing with those who will listen that it is the words.  The words seduce me.  The words either keep me interested or I quickly shut the book and often never return. 

If the words have been chosen carefully, thoughtfully, precisely, I will read page after page after page and then may read the entire book all over again just to devour them once more.  If the words have been crafted with the utmost care, I will sit in a dark theatre and listen oh so carefully to what others may consider the most horrible of films or the most tedious of plays. 

It is the words.

For me, it always comes back to the words. 

Don't bother with flowers or card tricks or ponies.  I don't need to be wined or dined.

Just give me beautiful, magical, heart felt words.

I fell in love tonight, all over again, with a man named David.  And it was all because of the words.  His words.  Words spoken.  Words whispered.  Words on a page.  Words.

Aye, Nicaragua!

Happiness Came Creeping Back In

I am almost afraid to write about this because I am afraid I will jinx it.  It seems that whenever I dare to breathe just a little more deeply, to laugh just a little bit harder, to allow some of that steel armor that has encased my heart to flake off just a tad, I find myself on a very slippery slope towards deep depression and sadness.

This week marked the one year anniversary of that Monday morning when I woke up to David telling me that he was done.  Not done masturbating which actually would have been expected.  Done with me.  Done with our marriage.  Done.

I do not need to rehash all that has transpired in the last year for all of you.  I will say there were many of you who made note of the date this week and checked in with me to make sure that I was still breathing.  Thank you.  No, really, thank you.  Some days, I honestly feel like I keep breathing as much for all of you as I do for myself.  I know that seems completely irrational and perhaps even silly.  Life, though, when you're on the receiving end of being left in a marriage has a way of becoming incredibly lonely. 

Yes, I am happy as me.  Yes.  Yes, god, yes.  It isn't that I'm not happy in my own skin.  I am just lonely.  If I were to share my own truth in the whole ending story of my marriage, my truth would most certainly be that I was not unhappy in my marriage.  I actually miss being married. 

I miss sharing my bed.  I miss sharing my day at the end of the day.  I miss cooking meals together and having someone to tantalize with my organic goodness.  I miss having another person in my life who actually gets excited about and wants to do silly things with me.

Stella and Buddha are excellent listeners.  They certainly hog the bed.  I cook lovely meals for them daily.  And we walk and play all over this city every single day.   

However, making out with Stella on the couch is getting old.  I'm afraid as much as I want to be a lesbian, I'm not a lesbian.  Now, Buddha won't even make out with me!  Have I with my broken heart and broken soul lost all my sex appeal?

Gah.

I know that happiness is creeping back in.  I feel it.  Like my own cells are blossoming, coming back alive, after being dormant for far too long.  I smile for no reason.  I laugh just a little too loudly.  I say yes far more than I say no.

The steel cage enclosing my heart has shattered. 

My heart mayhaps might be ready for love.

It's Better Here

So the other night I was out much too late with my friend, Calvin.  A couple weeks ago, while Naomi and Jason were visiting, we had dinner and Calvin joined us.  At some point he mentioned something about the absolutely best hot chocolate, not just here in Salt Lake, but perhaps anywhere, and I was aghast that he'd make such a declaration.  He insisted and then told me he'd take me for some so I could try it and taste so for myself.

I am a chocolate snob, people.  I have been for my entire life.  Well, yes, I will admit that there was a time in my life when my entire diet consisted of Coke and M&M's.  Lydia, she of the glorious boobs, will gladly tell you that I had Coke and M&M's for breakfast nearly every single day while we were in boarding school.  I used to have huge two pound bags of M&M's in my room.  She might also tell you (and you all will fall over in disbelief) that I used to scoop dry Lipton iced tea mix right out of the can and drop it into my mouth on the way to theatre practice every afternoon.  Oh, yes, I was the epitome of healthy eating in those days.

That diet actually followed me to college.  However, when I landed in London it immediately ceased.  One because the Coke in London tastes nothing like the Coke at home.  Two because the chocolate in London is far superior to the chocolate here.  It just is.  There's more fat in it.  FAT!  Oh glorious fat.  It was those two years in London that broke me of both my Coke habit and my M&M's habit and started a chocolate snobbery that finds me purchasing $7 organic very dark chocolate bars to slip into my pocket in case I find I need chocolate during all those film festivals.

Thus, I was dubious about this so called best hot chocolate that was going to be purveyed right here in Salt Lake City. 

The hot chocolate in question is found at a little family owned chocolate shop, Hatch Family Chocolates, located in the Avenues.  They're open late and everything is made on the premises.  When we arrived, there was a family of five clearly enjoying not only their milkshakes but also their chocolates in one corner.  There was a young girl who was eager to serve us and there was another young guy who was working in the back. 

Straight away, Calvin ordered us two dark hot chocolates.  I immediately grew enchanted with all the home made confections in the glass case in front of me.  Dark and Milk chocolate truffles filled with all kinds of fruits and creams that just looked, well, scrumptious!  I asked the girl who was working if folks bought them for Halloween and while she was telling me that yes some folks did, Calvin told me that he buys them for Christmas gifts nearly every year. 

He asked me if I wanted one?  Who is going to refuse an offer of hand crafted chocolate?  Certainly not me.  So he asked which one I wanted and I told him I was torn between an almond cream filled dark chocolate one and a very classic dark chocolate truffle.  Did I want two?  No, I didn't want two.  He told me I was lying, of course I wanted two.  No, I insisted, one would be great. 

Our hot chocolates were ready.  I'll admit that even the smell was like pure chocolate heaven.  The last best hot chocolate that I had truly enjoyed had been at Scharffenbergers factory in Berkeley.  I adore their chocolate and use it frequently in my cooking, but have noticed that it hasn't been quite as good since they took investment from Hershey's.  They promised it wasn't going to change their quality, but I just feel like the chocolate isn't quite as FAT as it used to be.  It's the only way I can explain it.  My baking doesn't have that over the top richness it had before Hershey's entered the picture.

I grabbed my heavenly hot chocolaty goodness and was about to take a sip when Calvin instructed me to get a tiny straw.  A tiny straw?  Who drinks hot chocolate out of a tiny straw?  But I wasn't going to argue with him.  I knew that there must be a reason for sipping this delicacy through a straw meant for stirring coffee.

I took a straw.  I took a sip.  It was so thick, so creamy, it got stuck washing over my tongue and coated my throat like a warm, chocolate flavored river.  I couldn't help but think of Augustus Gloop  slurping from the river in Willy Wonka.  I thought perhaps that's why Calvin insisted on the straw?!  So I don't slurp like Augustus Gloop and end up drowning in my eagerness to drink it all.

It really was that good.  I drank every last drop and I was sad when it was all gone. 

"Wow, this is actually better than in California!", I marveled to Calvin.  And I really meant it.  I think that the Hatch Family might make the best hot chocolate I've ever had anywhere. 

Calvin purchased a box of six chocolates for himself to savor in the days to come.  He bought me two.  I had told him I only needed one, but my little bag had two.  I told him I would save them for the next day at work when that afternoon craving for something sweet hit, but I still insisted that one would have been plenty.

The next day, just as it always does, the craving hit.  I remembered Calvin's little bag of chocolaty goodness in my purse.  I took one chocolate out and savored it for what might be the world's record for slowly consuming one piece of chocolate.  It was rich.  It was creamy.  The marriage of coconut and chocolate were just exactly right.  The almond cream on top added a delicate top note of richness.  Oh, it was just lovely.  And it left me absolutely craving more.

Again, Calvin was right.

He just knew I needed two.

Hatch Family Chocolates
                         390 4th Ave
            Salt Lake City, UT             84103
Phone: (801) 532-4912

Hours: Mon-Sat 11am-10pm

Hand-Dipped Chocolates, Hot Chocolate

                         

Afternoon Kombucha Notes

In the spirit of my good friend, Dave Winer's Morning Coffee Notes, I'm giving you some afternoon Kombucha notes.  Kombucha is most definitely the daily afternoon drink around ChezNaked and I can honestly tell you that if I don't have at least one, I get very grouchy.

We'll start off with this email which I snagged from my good friend, Naomi, and which I am thinking many of you have seen already, but I found it compelling and I really wanted to share it with all of you.

    What if John McCain were a former president of the Harvard Law Review?

    What if Barack Obama finished fifth from the bottom of his graduating
    class?

    *******
    What if McCain were still married to the first woman he said "I do" to?

    What if Obama were the candidate who left his first wife after she no
    longer measured up to his standards?

    *******
    What if Michelle Obama were a wife who not only became addicted to pain
    killers, but acquired them illegally through her charitable organization?

    What if Cindy McCain graduated from Harvard?

    *******

    What if Obama were a member of the Keating-5?

    What if McCain were a charismatic, eloquent speaker?

    *******
    If these questions reflected reality, do you think the polls
    would be as close as they are?

    What is it that rationalizes and minimizes a black candidates positive
    qualities and qualifications?

    *******
    You're The Boss... which team would you hire with America facing historic
    debt, two wars (to date), stumbling health care, a weak dollar,
    all-time high prison population, mortgage crises, bank foreclosures, etc?

    *******
    Educational Backgrounds

    Obama:
    Columbia University - B.A. Political Science; specialization in
    International Relations.
    Harvard - Juris Doctor (J.D.) Magna Cum Laude

    Biden:
    University of Delaware - B.A. in History and B.A. in Political Science.
    Syracuse University College of Law - Juris Doctor (J.D.)

    vs.

    McCain:
    United States Naval Academy - Class rank: 894 of 899

    Palin:
    Hawaii Pacific University - 1 semester
    North Idaho College - 2 semesters - general study
    University of Idaho - 2 semesters - journalism
    Matanuska-Susitna College - 1 semester
    University of Idaho - 3 semesters - B.A. in Journalism

    *******
    OK Boss, which team are you going to hire ?

    (Without, of course stretching the imagination to include
    what might have happened had it been the Obamas to have a
    16 yr.-old unwed daughter pregnant ...)

Next, I want to talk about the Good Karma wishes that all of you have been posting here on this blog as well as emailing to me privately.  I want all of you to remember something that I am sure most of you already really do know.  You hold the power and the possibility to make every one of those wishes and dreams a reality.  I mean this sincerely.  I'm not just throwing my airy fairy nakedjen form of good vibe spirituality at you.

Here's what I know as well as I know anything.  Manifestation is all about asking not only with your head but with you heart.  It is also about trusting that the universe is going to provide.  But most importantly it is always being open to receive. 

I know that for most of us the asking with our heads is simple.  We do it all the time.  I want those shoes!  I want a bigger house!  I want the kids to stop screaming!  I want my wife to love me!  I want world peace!

But...how many of us say those things, those very same things, with intention and love, from our hearts instead of our heads?   Raise your hands.  Higher.  Yes, I thought so. 

Asking first with our hearts is not easy.  It takes practice.  Also, I caution about this frequently, it takes careful consideration, as well.  I often say, be careful what you wish for.  This isn't me just being coy.  I've learned that you will often get exactly what your heart most desires.  But sometimes it isn't exactly what you really want or need. 

Now, that sounds like a contradiction, I'm certain.  Ask with your heart, but be careful, because you'll get exactly what your heart desires?  If you're asking with your heart, isn't that what you most desire?

Well, yes, usually.  But oftentimes what our mind wants to believe our heart truly desires isn't quite exactly what our heart truly desires.  So before even asking, I always do some soul searching and careful meditation to make sure that all parts of me are in alignment and what I am asking for is absolutely clear and absolutely what I wish.

Now that you've asked with your heart comes the fun part. 

Receiving.

Again, I know so many people who ask and then are not open to receiving the gifts bestowed upon them.  They miss them because they're not looking for the opportunities that are presented to them.  I think those pesky imagineers at Disney have done all of us a disservice by having fairies like Tinkerbell with her magic wand and the Genie in Aladdin who can make wishes come true.  We think we just ask and POOF it happens.   

We are the makers of our very own magic.  If we want it, it is up to us to make it happen.  Intention is the beginning, opening ourselves to all gifts and opportunities is the way we receive it.

I honestly believe that those of you who were brave enough to share your wishes with me here have the very best of intentions, have asked with your hearts and absolutely deserve to receive exactly what you wished.  May you all be open to receiving the multitude of opportunities and gifts that will be flowing your way so that you can, in fact, have your wishes granted.

Finally, I need to share that Stella is fed up with my working girl self.  Truly fed up.  Today, to show her utter disgust in my 8 hour work days, she took a book, not just any book, but a treasured book, from my book shelf, jumped onto my bed, and ate the first 53 pages along with the cover! 

She is not hungry.  She's simply pissed off. 

She's had it with me working 5 days a week.  Actually, Stella, I've had it, too.  Friday was supposed to be my final day at this particular job, but they've extended me until after the election.  So Stella, dear Stella, I hear your wish for the days when we hang out at home and take extra long afternoon walks at the dog park.  I long for those, too. 

Trust me, I'm keeping myself open to the gifts and the opportunities so we can do just that!

Good Karma

I wished for a new house, I got a lovely new house.
I wished for a job at Sundance, I got a fab job at Sundance.  The very best one, actually!
I wished for snow, I got snow.  SNOW!  It's not even Halloween and there's snow falling from the skies.

I am grateful, beyond measure, for all these blessings.  I am just full of good fortune even in these desperate times. 

I suppose I shall really wish that Obama wins the White House, that our country is restored to a land of true and genuine prosperity and sanity and that the war in Iraq truly comes to a swift and peaceful end.

Tell me, dear readers, for what is it that you wish?  Do not be shy, I really want to know.  Perhaps I can help?! 

Declare it here.  Let's make it happen!