I Survived My Survival Course, barely

I knew within 5 minutes of arriving at the Boy Scouts Reservation in the Santa Cruz Mountains that my survival course was going to be a challenge.

Because I was cold.

Yes, I came to a survival course unprepared for cold weather in December (shocking, I know)!

I forgot my hat and gloves.

And while I was wearing a waterproof jacket, I had only a long sleeved shirt on under it and thus I found myself shivering pretty good.

It was going to be a long 5 hours, I could just tell.

I used the “luxury” bathroom before trekking to the campsite. This, is the “luxury” loo, fyi.

Our instructor Jack talked to us about the priorities of survival in the wild:

  1. Shelter
  2. Water
  3. Fire
  4. Food

He impressed upon us the importance of creating a native shelter when you’re survival is at hand, so we spent a lot of time checking out a “sample” native shelter he called a debris shelter.

I call it an above ground coffin made from shit you find on the ground.

It was awful. But at least if I’m ever lost in the wilderness, I’ll know how to build one.

I teamed up with several classmates and we built out own native debris shelter.

Ta da!



Cozy, eh?

Two of my teammates slipped into it.


Our next activity was learning how to build a fire with pieces of wood and a shoe string bow aka the bow drill method.

Ugh. Can I even tell you how badly I sucked at this?

I burned a dimple into my wood, but that was about it. No fire.

Good to know I’d freeze to death in the wilderness with no fire to warm me, purify my water, or feed me.

Here are the tools I was given to start a fire.

But first I had to whittle my wood into a spindle.

Lastly, we learned about purifying water with rocks from the fire and we learned about how nutritionally sound bug are – though they may be a bit crunchy going down. Pretty gross, but if you need food, I imagine you’ll eat anything.

I can personally vouch that ants are pretty damn tasty. Taste like peppery caviar.

And thus my day ended, with me huddled around the heater in my car, desperate to warm up and feeling like I knew for certain…

…I would never be warm again.

Tantra Puja

Tantra puja is not what you think it is. There’s no nudity. There’s no masturbation. There’s not even any groping.

These were the things I imagined when I pictured my first Puja.

I tried to imagine the worst, most challenging situation I could be faced with and if I could handle it then I’d be okay to go.

So I pictured a sea of naked bodies touching each other and sitting in a circle masterbating.

This was nothing like that.

This was gentle discussion. Dance. Play.

I met some lovely people.

My friend Gary even went with me which made it so much easier for me to attend myself, knowing I’d have someone to lean on if I got uncomfortable or needed to withdraw a little.

We played a few rounds of “I notice that… I imagine you…” [Like “I notice that you’re not wearing a wedding ring, I imagine that you’re not married.”] It’s an exercise that demonstrates how we make up stories based on our observations.

Then I pretended I was a kite and my friend Gary was reeling me in and out while I danced about. That was the most fun for me.

I played one game with a man who had the sexiest voice imaginable. It was so stimulating to sit across from him and listen to his low, baritone voice rumble on. He could’ve been reading the phone book for all I cared.

We concluded with a flocking exercise where we all follow the leader and move in unison with each other. It was quite lovely. I pretended I was a bird and did pirouettes like I haven’t done since grade school.

Overall, I had a good time but I was slightly disappointed that it wasn’t edgier. That I didn’t have to stretch more and put myself out there a little bit more.

Not that I wanted to sit in a circle with other people while we all played with ourselves.

But a cuddle puddle would have been nice.

Or flames.

There’s should’ve been candles.

Candles always add an element of ritualism to a ceremony.

F*cking Facebook

I don’t know about you but suddenly my “People You May Know” section of Facebook is LIGHTING UP with men I used to date, almost dated, and flirted with.

How this happened, I have no idea.  I didn’t even know what most of these men’s names were.  I can only imagine the magic that Facebook employed to delve into my online dating records.  The fact that Facebook was able to dredge these men up from the sewers of my life scares me and impresses me a little.

They even located Louis, who managed to give me m WORST DATE EVER story involving two standard size poodles, the Adult Swim channel (which may have cartoons on it but it incidentally NOT A CHILDREN’S CHANNEL), and Louis’ 6-year-old daughter.  I could not make this up and I’ll save the whole story for another blog post.

Louis beat out that aptly named “Fartman” for the title of WORST DATE EVER.  No explanation is necessary for that one, I assume.

It’s been an awakening to see al the faces of the men I’ve entertained.  It makes me realize how long I’ve been dating and how many different men I’ve gone out with.

More than Princess Di, less than Madonna and we’ll leave it at that.

But still, I have to wonder how did Facebook do it?  They even found sexy Dixon who I am currently texting with.

I can only imagine that these men are experiencing the same flashbacks as I am as my picture goes floating by in their “People You May Know” (aka “People You Know But Don’t Want to Admit You Know or Even be Friends With) section.

Surely they think of me as that sexy, brilliant, adventurous blond they were lucky enough to go out with and perhaps they should give me a ring.

Then again, PERHAPS NOT!

The Sexiest Part on a Man

God, there are so many places to choose from. It’s east to debate the sexiness of men because there’s so many things about men that I adore – like his smile, eyes, hands and thighs.

But on Pinterest, there seem to be other locations on a man’s body which are deemed “the sexiest” such as the cording running down a man’s neck into his shoulders.

I can see the appeal of the neck. It’s in a highly visible location. It’s a collection of smooth muscles running up and down the length of the neck. And it’s an erogenous zone. What’s not to love about that?

Well, there is another school of thought which holds the back to be the sexiest part of a man and from the picture below, I’d have to agree.

However, there remains one sport so sexy, so sacrosanct that it makes eve nuns’ eyes water with love when they see it. It’s the iliac furrow – that spot on a man where his abdomen meets his pelvis and there are little furrows running down either side of his abdomen like a runaway to the pleasure zone.

Neck, back or iliac… they’re all sexy. But for me, I’ll take a baritone laugh, a genuine smile, and big hands over a defined iliac furrow any day of the week and twice on Sundays.

Although I must admit, every time I see the iliac furrow, I think of licking lollipops.

Why I want to go to Burning Man

Burning Man (BM) has been on my mind a lot lately.

I was lucky enough to go to a smaller version of BM on my friends’ property out in Redding. They’ve build a community on several acres of rural property with their friends and when you are there Marshall Law rules – and the Marshall is the one with the most guns. They call their town Shinola.

It was so much fun to let my boys drive on the property, shoot guns at targets, and just in general raise a little hell and have fun doing it.

BM reminds me of Shinola on a larger, edgier scale.

Ever since embracing my inner freak, I’ve begun to realize that we all have a little freak in us (some more than others) and I’ve looked to connect with the inner freaks of others. We like to put on our “Clark Kent” persona during the day, but we live to let “Superman” loose. And “Superman” is quite extraordinary.

I’ve heard all about the sex, and the nudity, and the drugs at Burning Man and they just intrigue me. Not that I’m looking for any of that – except for the sex and the nudity of course.

Nudity is one of the primary reasons I want to go there. That and I love being able to go topless in public.
Me topless, in a sarong, chilling in the Nevada desert with a drink in my hand and a man next to me is my idea of fun.

Can you imagine a week of just exploring the art of other people and learning about the eccentricities of others? There’s so much potential growth there. I’m sure some things will make me uncomfortable, but I’m just as sure that I’ll discover new things I like. And I’ll discover new things about me.

I have friends who go to BM and I want to pick their brains about going – what to bring, what to look for, the erotic parts, the soulful parts, and the just-gotta-experience parts.

Truthfully, there are a few of them that I’d like to go with and make a camp with, because they’re tons and fun and there’s nothing better than learning the ropes from someone who’s been there and done that before.

My ideal day at BM – wake up, partake of morning wood, get halfway dressed (topless) and eat breakfast, explore the sights and sounds of BM, find a BDSM performance to watch, watch it, do more exploring, find an erotic performance to watch, watch it, mix and mingle with the denizens of BM, get up to mischief at night, and then have some evening wood to cap off a lovely day.

So. Much. Fun.

Back to dating

I blew off my Bollywood dance class. Again.

Lately I’ve been enjoying staying at home with my boys and doing housewifely chores like running errands, cooking, and cleaning.

And personally, going on another solo activity is starting to become less and less appealing.

I’m started to get restless. It may be time to throw myself back in the dating pool.

I never took down my profiles, I’ve just been ignoring the responses I’ve been getting.

And personally, they’ve been rather pitiful to check out.

A guy with a picture of him getting ready to punch someone. You, apparently, from the angle of the camera.

A lot of guys in construction with “some college” education.

Thank you, if I wanted that I would have stayed with my ex.

And a guy who calls himself Luv2eataco. No explanation needed.

Yes, I make fun of the men I meet online. Do you know how many men approach me with “Hi sexy” and nothing more?

I’m educated, fun and adventurous. If you want to meet me you better bring your A game along.

Because I’d really like to meet someone. Maybe someone who OMs or who is opening to learning how to OM.

Someone who will kick me out of the house and tell me to go to my Bollywood dance class or better yet who will go with me so we can laugh at ourselves.

Maybe even share a drink with me so I’m not always drinking alone.

Now that I’m not spending every free moment I have OMing, it’s time to get back in the game.

New approach:

Only respond to emails containing at least two sentences.

Do not respond to emails that reference “yolo”, “idk” or “ssdd”.

No guys with profile pics of them with someone else’s kids.

Pics with their pet dog/s highly encouraged.

Delete all messages containing the phrase “hello baby”, “you are very perty”, and “hot mama”.


So there you have it – my new and improved approach to dating.

Hopefully this single woman will meet someone fun and open minded who will go on adventures with me so I’m not always SO VERY MUCH ALONE.

Wah! :-)

Sex Magic

So there’s a group called Sex Magic and I’m intrigued by them. According to their website they are about meditation, intimacy, self-exploration, sexuality, dating and relationships and ritual. That’s quite a load of topics to keep you busy.

They’ve hosted several meetings so far – including one on dating as a spiritual practice, one on conscious sensuality and a wildly popular one on female ejaculation and prostate massage.

Let me repeat that.

One on female ejaculation and prostate massage.

Now these are not two of my favorite topics, but I’m INSANELY curious about them. So curious, I would have attended the meeting, had I only known about it.

You might think this sounds a little hokey. And you may be right. But these meeting quite frequently have licensed psychotherapists and relationship coaches as part of the presentation and discussion.  The entire group is organized by a licensed Marriage and Family Therapist.

Their next meeting is in February.

It’s called “Sex, Magic and Erotic Influence” and I’m going. Quite honestly, they had me at “sex”.

The seminar seeks to answer the questions:

What kind of erotic presence do you hold? 
What is the range and depth of you sexual embodiment? 
What can you call forth from your lover? 
What are your edges and how do they hold you back from expressing and enjoying your full erotic potential? 

Well, the last question is the kicker for me. Because if you were to ask me if I’m enjoying my full erotic potential, the answer would be “NOT AT ALL.”

Despite all the experiments I test out. Despite the OMing. And despite the blogging.

I can’t shake the feeling like there somehow should be more.

Like say a boyfriend?

Yeah, that might do it… getting a boyfriend.

Can Sex Magic help me with that?


I just bought tickets to see U2 in the iNNOCENCE + eXPERIENCE concert at the SAP Center in San Jose on Monday, May 18th. 2015. It’s been literally years since I saw them in concert and I JUST CAN’T WAIT TO SEE THEM AGAIN.

One friend joked “Was this punishment for something?”

The answer is no. I actually like U2.

They remind me of my youth in the 1980s. I grew up on songs like “In the Name of Love” and “Sunday Bloody Sunday.”
Just like I grew up on Duran Duran songs like “Rio” and “Hungry Like the Wolf.”

But unlike Duran Duran, U2’s appeal throughout the decades has never waned and they’ve managed to stay mainstream with some pretty significant hits – they’ve had eight number one hits on the U.S. Modern Rock charts which places them fifth all-time. In addition, the band was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2005 and they have sold more than 150 million records.


So I’m not alone in liking U2.

I remember at the last concert of theirs that I went to it was truly an amazing experience. The music was outstanding but the showmanship really made the show.

Sure, Bono is no Freddy Mercury, but he certainly knows how to captivate an audience.

So come May 18th, you know where I will be – sitting in the cheap seats (well almost) at the U2 concert in San Jose, singing my 13-year old heart out.

My baby got his ears pierced

My “baby” (who is all of 13 years old) got his ears pierced this weekend.  He wanted to get his eyebrow and his lip pierced but his father and I both objected.  Eventually, we settled on the ears.

So on a warm winter’s day in December 2014, I took him down to the fantasy makeover party store known as Razzberry Lips and there amid all the little girls getting makeovers and all the Disney princesses in costume, my son got his ears pierced by two very attractive young women.

I’d like to say he was in heaven but the truth is he could’ve cared less.  Now, if it was Ashton Irwin from 5 Seconds of Summer, that would have been a different story.

He did later on giggle a little bit when he told me that one of the girls was blowing in his ear and it took all the strength he had not to smile when she did it.

P.S.  I *may* have tried on a tiara or two.