Spankings and Sharpies

At Burning Man, there are camps you can join to be part of a larger group having fun on the playa.  Often these camps center their activities around a theme – hence the coined term “theme camp.”

At first, I was camping with The Lost Penguins.

That was until I met Tejas.

Tejas, who patiently schooled me on all things Burning Man, then asked me out.

One thing lead to another and before I knew it, he was asking me to join his camp.

And I’ve agreed.

It seems like the right thing to do to stay with Tejas for the duration of my time on the playa. Or at least spend some time with him.

So now it looks like I’ll be camping with Otis Spankmore.

Yes, it’s exactly what you think it is – cookies and spankings.

Now I’m not big into spankings, courtesy of an ex boyfriend who liked to leave me with scabs. But I am big on cookies.

And sharpie pens.

You know me and my sharpie pen obsession.

It makes me want to suggest that instead of a spanking, I get drawn on with sharpies.

Wouldn’t that be fun?!


To say I had a case of the nerves when I went out with Tejas would be an understatement.

I was uptight. Tense. Nervous. On edge.

He called me out on it.

I ordered a gin and tonic to mellow the eff out. It worked. Before I knew it, Tejas and I were chatting like old friends and I was enjoying myself.

The waitress kept coming by our table and saying I was pretty. I wanted to tip her every time she said it.

That’s how you get a big tip, yes indeed.

Tejas and I talked about Burning Man, my kids, health, and his former relationship. It was odd to talk about another woman on a first date but since I know her and like her, it wasn’t all that odd.

Although I will say that it’s rather obvious that Tejas still has a thing for her. It makes me pause and wonder if I should proceed with dating him.

As I put it, “you don’t date because your dream woman is taken by another man, you date because you realize your dream woman is still out there.”

And I stand by that statement.

After dinner, Tejas and I went to get frozen yogurt even though I was jonesing for ice cream. Tejas convinced me to make a healthier choice. The nice thing about Tejas is that I can admit my weight issues to him without fear of judgment or criticism.

Then we went to my place where we were mercilessly bugged by my oldest son who takes some sort of keen interest in the men I date.

Two scotch on the rocks later, we were chummy as could be and I was falling asleep on Tejas.

We kissed. Several times.

He has very soft lips.

But as we were kissing, my mischievous son flicked the stair lights on and off and on and off again alerting us to the fact that we had no privacy and he was misbehaving.

What must Tejas think of my parenting skills that my teenage son acts this way.

We snuck in a few more kisses before saying goodnight.

Was I swept away?

Not completely.

I can feel myself digging in, restlessly holding on to my single status. Reluctant to open up to a man who is in love with another woman.

I mean, in order to fall for an available man, the man has to be AVAILABLE first.

So we’ll see where this goes. If nothing else I have a friend with benefits.

And that ain’t bad.

P.S.  I told Tejas my two big secrets and he still likes me, so I’ve got that going for me.  Nothing like a little transparency and acceptance to make a girl feel good about herself.

Baggage vs Luggage

I hate the term baggage.

The idea that something that happened in the past permanently affects our future bothers me to no end.

Mostly because I don’t like the idea of someone I once loved having that much power over me.

I took away some great things from my previous relationships.  But I also took away some crap.

The ex who dumped me to marry a coworker, that was pretty shitty.

And the ex who dropped me because he said he could never make me happy, breaking my heart, that sucked too.

If I’m honest with myself, I’ll admit I have some residual baggage from those experiences.

  • Relationships make me skittish
  • It takes me a while to open up
  • I have trust issues (don’t we all)

So there you have it.  I have baggage.

What I don’t have is luggage.  Some people have luggage and you know exactly what I’m talking about.  They have a matching set of luggage you can spot a mile away.  And they haul it with great gusto from relationshit to relationshit, daring their new partner to fix what’s wrong.

I’ve met people with luggage.  And they’re remarkably successful at finding people to date, because I suppose there’s a lot of people out there who love a rescue.

I’m always reminded of my baggage every time I meet someone new and I have to share all the funny bits and pieces about myself that I don’t necessarily like but I live with.

Like Tejas.

He mentions relationships and all of a sudden I get that tight, fluttery feeling in my chest and I have the strong urge to run.

What’s that about?

Of course, the panic passes and I feel fine.  But for a moment there I thought I was going to dash.


Fucking baggage.





Internet, meet Tejas, my Burning Man friend.  We met at a South Bay Burners Meet and Greet and he quickly took me under his wing and proceeded to scare the SHIT out of me with all the stuff I need to do to prep for Burning Man – mostly related to shade structure, grey water disposal, and tent trailer fortifications.

Just when my head stopped spinning, it started spinning again.

But honestly, Tejas has been a dream come true.  He offered to take a look at my tent trailer and even suggested he could tow it if I can’t find a Vehicle Pass.

Yes, he’s as old as my birthparents.  Yes, he’s the ex boyfriend of a friend of mine.  Yes, he’s a motorcycle rider (and I’m freaked out since seeing 3 fatalities).

But he’s also Mayan.  And Aztec.  And Scottish.  And he owns two kilts.

He’s really helpful and patient.  And I suspect very generous with his time and talent.

Judging from what I’ve seen so far, I should go out with Tejas on a date.

I maybe kissed him already in the Viva parking lot in Los Gatos.  It was a sweet kiss as he put it.  Why I can’t seem to land any hot kisses I’ll never know.  But sweet isn’t too shabby either.

I imagine my birthfamily will love him with all his motorcycles and his RV.

Personally, I love that we’re both passionate about the same thing – Burning Man.  The two of us could talk for hours about life on the playa and Black Rock City.  And since he’s a seasoned burner, his advice is always spot on and really helpful.

But best of all, Tejas LOOKS LIKE A LUMBERJACK which you know is one of my weaknesses.  Give me a big man with a beard and I go weak in the knees.  I suspect he has no tattoos but I can live with that.

All this is to say…


Wish me luck!

Dolly, exposed

So here is Dolly, in all her 1990s era glory, complete with mauve curtains and teal seat cushions.

But first, the beer I drank while I was hanging out in Dolly.  Sure, it was 10 o’clock in the morning, but aren’t you supposed to drink when you’re in a tent trailer?

And now Dolly, the right side of the tent trailer, showing the king size bed.  Note the dated curtains and cushions.  And the mess.

Now the left side of Dolly, showing the full size bed and kitchen area.  Grungy. [Please ignore my son’s airsoft weapons in the trailer.]

And finally, the kitchen itself.  Sad.  Pathetic.  God, that faucet needs to be swapped out.

imageAnd finally me, sitting in my tent trailer, happy as a clam to be working on it.  And VERY HOT.

So here are a few of the improvements I have planned:

New curtains.  I have 11 yards of vintage trailer fabric that I’m converting into curtains for the tent trailer.  Bright, festive, and colorful.  They certainly cheer the place up.  A touch of retro glam.

A new lock on the door:

A new faucet:

Freshly painted cabinets:

And, of course, stick-it-to-it vinyl faux wood flooring:

I am doing these remodels all on my own.  Perhaps with a little help from my friend Jeep.  But I’m insanely proud of myself to be tackling these chores solo since I’m usually the type to need a partner to keep me going.  And since the tent trailer has spiders, I’m having to confront my phobia at the same time. Brave and strong, that’s me.

Can’t wait to post pictures of Dolly after her makeover.

Don’t buy clothes from China

Because in China, a US size 2XL is sized to fit a Barbie doll.

Case in point, my new green “faux” fur jacket arrived in the mail. I opened up the package and removed a jacket that looked appropriately sized for a toddler.

It came with a pet brush and a wonky gold tone and black chain belt.

The only useful part of the shipment was the pet brush, though I’m sure it’s probably made of toxic arsenic.

Also, the jacket wasn’t FAUX fur. It was real fur. Rabbit, I’m guessing. I was horrified at the thought of wearing or even owning something made of other creatures skins so I gave the jacket a proper burial.

Here is my arm in the jacket. Notice it’s about 8 inches too short for my normal sized arm.

Which begs the question…

… is China aware my Nordic body doesn’t fit in any of their clothing? Are the Chinese so petite?

Sure, I could feel fat for buying a 5XL shirt from China and not having it fit me, but I prefer to enjoy that feeling of being tall and strong and beautiful.

If you can’t be petite, you might as well embrace being an Amazon.


Dating, March 2015

Not much has been going on in the dating department.

I met one guy and went on a date with him – mini golf, burgers, and ice cream. Then he went to Mardi Gras in New Orleans where he texted me and sent me photos. Then he came home and NOTHING.


These things happen, I guess. I was afraid he was too tame for me so I wasn’t crushed by his change of heart.

Can you picture me dating a middle school principal? I’d blow his mind.

Then there was the crazy guy who told me:

He’s not divorced, and

He’s still living with his wife.

I don’t know about you but in my world we call that NOT DIVORCED. AKA STILL MARRIED.

Dude, slow down and take a break from women for a moment. Just give it a moment, okay? Would it kill you to wait until you’re at least officially GETTING a divorce?!

As of September this year, I will have been divorced for 10 years. That entitles me to some dates. I wish it entitled me to some GOOD dates.

But I’ll tell you this, pretty much every one I know who is single at one point or another, takes a break from dating. And not because it’s so wonderful they need to pause or risk getting their mind blown. No, it’s because dating pretty much SUCKS and some times you just burn out and need to take a break from it all long enough for dementia to set in and make you forget how completely horrid dating really is.

Right now I’m not suffering from dementia. Combine that with my passion in planning for Burning Man and I’m quite content to be living date-free.

Of course if any of you want to sext me, just let me know. Wink wink.

It’s been a while since I had good sext.

Shade, Sam, and Spankings

This weekend I got in the tent trailer…. and I got a little lesson in heat transference.

As in the heat outside in the 70 degree weather transferred to the tent trailer and turned it into a little mini oven.

I wasn’t just hot, I was boiling.

Sweat was pouring off of me.

I tried to picture myself in the tent trailer in 100 degree heat on the playa, and although I couldn’t exactly capture the pure overwhelming heat of it, I certainly got the idea.

It’s gonna be hot, Hot, HOT out there!

So hot it’s actually cooler outside the tent trailer.

I won’t want to get dressed in there.

I won’t want to put on makeup in there.

I’m just going to want to get the hell out of there ASAP.

Fast forward to Monday. I’m meeting my new friend Sam at a restaurant in Los Gatos to discuss – you go it – Burning Man. More specifically, I need to talk to him about shade. Because I need to figure out how to shade my tent trailer and right now I have no idea how to do that.

Aluminet is $0.32 per square foot. That’s makes for an expensive canopy when your tent trailer is 21 feet long, 6 feet wide, and 8 feet tall.

And while I am good at erecting some things, my canopy erecting skills and even my canopy building skills, are sadly lacking.

Plus how the hell am I going to do it on my own on the playa? This may be a time when radical self-reliance goes by the wayside.

So Sam, who is 54 but looks 37 thanks to a young face and a full head of hair, is going to school me on shade structures on the playa. Just so that I can have another project to work on.

And more money to spend, natch.

I also plan to pick Sam’s brain about life on the playa in a camp since he was in a camp last year and got to experience it all. Even the sparkleponies who came to camp naked and rubbed their boobs on everyone.

He also is a good spanker, from what I’ve heard and I can’t wait to interview him about why he spanks, what he loves about it, and what he gains from spanking bare bottoms on his lap.

I’m a curious girl, you know.

Somehow a spider got on my head

Somehow a spider got on my head.

Yeah, I thought I’d lead with that sentence just to let you know where this all is going.

I was working on my tent trailer this weekend, ripping down old curtains and sewing new ones when I decided to sit down and admire my handiwork.

All of a sudden I felt this tickle on my throat, like a bug was there or something.

I didn’t freak out, but I immediately reached up, grabbed the “bug” and threw it against the door of my tent trailer.

It bounced and landed on the steps out of my view.

“Please don’t let it be a spider…” I chanted mentally as I worked up the courage to check out what had been on me.

I leaned forward and saw this:

A big, fat, cream colored spider.

I nearly had a heart attack.

I wanted to burn the tent trailer to the ground to get rid of it.

My dad is the one who I attribute my arachnophobia to. He refused to kill the spiders in my room when I was young. Instead he’d trap them in a little baggie and shake the baggie in front of my face while I tried to hide from it.

Yeah, nice going Dad.

Anyhow, this spider I let run off. It took me 15 minutes to recover from the fact that this spider had probably been hitching a ride in my hair for some portion of the afternoon.

I’m still working on the tent trailer, but we came across a black widow on the outside of the trailer yesterday so I’m feeling a little skittish.

Try picturing me sleeping in this thing and not jumping at every little tickle and sensation I feel in my body.


Modeling, reprise

So out of the hundreds of photos that were taken of me, Stanford has opted to use 6 for their promotional materials.  Here are 5 of those photos.

Stanford University Human Resources Stanford University Human Resources
Stanford University Human Resources Stanford University Human Resources

Stanford University Human ResourcesI wasn’t going to post these here.  Mostly because I don’t like them very much.  Maybe they’ll grow on me.  Right now they remind me I’m not a 19 year old size 12 young woman anymore.

If I had to pick a favorite photo, I’d pick the last one.  Because my hair looks fabulous is it.  And it gives you an idea of how long my hair is and how badly I need to figure out what to do with it at Burning Man.  But there you have it… me, in photos.