Live Boldly

I am notorious for having a messy room.

The kind where you can’t see the floor through all the clothing on it.

It’s partially because I have a small closet.

And also because I have a shit ton of clothes.

Not to mention costumes.

The other day, I cleaned up my room and when I did, I came across this:

Yes, it’s a fishnet maxi dress.

I didn’t even remember having it, let alone buying it.

But I like it a lot.

And I am SO HOPING that I’m bold enough to wear it at the burn because I just got this to go with it:

Because what do you wear under a sheer dress?

A high waisted black bikini.

If Ashley Graham can do it, so can I.

Now, I have bought high waisted bikinis many times to wear at the burn.

Don’t forget my triple-waste-of-time-and-money bikini bottoms:

I certainly haven’t quite mastered the art of living boldly.

But I’ve got all the accessories!

Blog it

To be honest, I’ve had a lot on my plate lately.

Nothing I’m ready to talk about online, but suffice to say something HUGE is in the works.

And I’m working hard to be the best, most supportive person I can be.

But it ain’t easy.

There’s a lot I need to do to get me through the next few months.

Lean on my friends and family, is one thing.

Research LGBTQ issues is another.

But mostly, I need to find a way to reflect and find inner peace so that I have balance in my life.

I really want to try my hand at ceramics.

There’s a place nearby called Higher Fire Clayspace and Gallery.

It really appeals to me, making ceramics out of a lump of clay.

I also feel an overwhelming urge to go to the ocean.

Kayak with whales.

Take a whale watching boat tour.

Maybe just go to the beach and hang out with my thoughts and feelings.

Oh sure, I’ve still got the Junior League, the Village, and the Burners to keep me busy.

In fact, I have to figure out what my gift to the playa will be this year.

But overall, I’m sort of in an unusual place and I need to move through this and get to the other side.

It’s going to be a process, but I’ll make it.

And when I’m ready, I’ll blog it.

That’s just how I roll

Several months ago, I went on a date.

I had no idea at the time that what transpired on that date would make me swear off internet dating.

But it did.

You see, I kinda liked the guy.

He was respectful, thoughtful, and nice.

A real gentleman.

Per typical first date guidelines, we chatted about careers, family, hobbies, etc.

The usual.

And it went nicely.

I mean there were no fireworks, but I was so impressed that he wasn’t staring at my tits or trying to talk me into going back to his place that I didn’t care.

I was happy just being treated like a human being.

Granted, he was a former Mormon, with a big Mormon family and all the issues that go along with that.

But overall, he was a step up from what I’d been experiencing.

But then he said it.

“I think I can speak for both of us when I say there’s no chemistry.”


No chemistry?

First of all, please do not presume that after spending two hours with me that you can speak for me.

Second of all, how the hell would you know about our chemistry?

You haven’t even touched me.

It’s ironic, isn’t it?

A decent date caused me to swear off online dating.

But it’s true.

I drew a line in the sand and I haven’t crossed it since.

I may be a little on the “friendly” side, but I don’t make assumptions about chemistry until I’ve kissed someone.

That’s just how I roll.

I am not a porn star

I’m going to write a new dating profile and title it:

I am not a porn star

It’s not that I resemble any porn stars out there, aside from being busty and blond.


It’s that I keep getting treated like my life revolves around sex by the men I go out with.

They seem to think it’s okay to grope me.

To ask if they can give me a facial.

To move a glass on the table so they can “get a better look at my tits.”

Yes, all this has happened and more.

And I’m sick of it.

Hence the desire to write a totally biting new profile.

Have men COMPLETELY forgotten about mutual respect?

Where are their manners?

I’m not trading my sexuality for a meal or a couple of drinks at a bar.

I am a REAL person who deserves respect, kindness, and sincerity.

I know I’m not The One for every man out there.

Does that mean that I deserve to be treated like a disposable toy?

No, it does not.

Before you start freaking out, let me set the record straight.

I’m not ACTUALLY going to write a new dating profile.

Because I’ve established that online dating is worthless.

A total waste of time.

And I would rather be a nun than spend any more time dating sex fiends, fuckwits, and assholes.

That is all.

Rocky Road

No, I’m not talking about the Rubicon Trail.

I’m talking about the ice cream..

Let me use it in a sentence:

I wouldn’t call me vanilla. I’m more like rocky road.

Let’s just say I’ve had a few nuts in me.

Yuck, yuck, yuck!

I’m not sure where I first heard the term “vanilla.”

It must’ve been my “Wrong Man” boyfriend.

It’s usually said in hushed whispers by non-vanilla folks.

As in, “I’m throwing a party but a bunch of my vanilla friends are coming so no play.”

Or, “I want to set you up with a friend of mine.  He’s non-vanilla so you can have fun with him.”

Something like that.

Me, personally?

I’m not vanilla anymore; I’m more like rocky road.

I’m still a wholesome creamy treat but I’ve also got a few nuts and smushmallows in me to make it a little more exciting.

Who likes rocky road?

I’ll never love again

I’m okay being single.

It’s MUCH better than being in a dead-end relationship.

I know a few people in that kind of relationship.

Sometimes it just makes me want to scream – HOW CAN THEY BE IN A RELATIONSHIP WHILE I’M NOT?!

But truthfully, I haven’t met anyone who I think could be long term material.

When I look back on the last 14 years since my divorce, I realize that I wasn’t ready for a permanent relationship.

I needed some work.

Dare I say it:

I was a little unbalanced and needed time to process.

Now that I’ve had the time to work on me, I’m still not finding anyone out there who is appropriate for me.

And it worries me for one reason:

I feel like I’ll never love again.

It’s not being single that bothers me (cuz it’s kinda fun), it’s the thought of being ENDLESSLY single that bothers me.

The idea that part of my life is over with somehow and will never ever be resurrected scares me.

I’ll never have a plus one for weddings.

I’ll always drive my tires bald because there’s no one to remind me to change them.

I’ll never have to question where I’m spending the holidays because it’s just me.

But most of all I worry that I’ll never fall in love again.

And as fun as casual sex is, I’m kinda hoping for something a little more stimulating.

That’s right.

I said it.

I want more.

I am a genius!

I got this (what I’d call) BRILLIANT idea the other day and I’m just bursting to tell someone.

You know those cheap Asian websites that sell random stuff?

Well, I was browsing stuff the other day and I came across this:

Yes, it’s a shower curtain, but more importantly it has this great pop culture design on it.

Something I’d like to stand in front of and pose with with all my friends.

It made me think of my shade structure at unSCruz, which is red and has three walls to enclose it.

While people are waiting in line to participate in our interactivity, we could seriously hang this along the wall and let them pose for pictures in front of them.

So I browsed some more, and I came up with two more pop culture shower curtains which would look ever so cool hanging against my shade structure, just inviting people to pose.

They’re AWESOME, aren’t they?

All I have to do is rig them up along the outside walls of my canopy and VOILÁ. . .

. . . instant photo op.

I am a genius!

On playa face painting

As it turns out, face painting requires A LOT of accessories.

First of all, you need face paint.

I can’t help but hope that it’s all hypo-allergenic.

Then you need brushes to apply the face paint.

And, of course, disposable sponges to paint larger areas.

Q-tips and disposable eye shadow applicators to paint areas like lips.

Which brings me to the topic of this day’s post:  SANITATION.

If I’m on the playa painting faces, I need to follow safe face painting practices.

Hand sanitizer, between guests.

Brush cleaner.

Disposable makeup wipes.

And disposable headbands, so I’m not painting people’s hair:

You’d think all you need to paint faces is a brush and some face paint but I’m here to tell you no, there’s SO MUCH MORE THAT GOES INTO IT.

I’ve even bought a Face Painting book:

It should tell me step by step how to create specific looks.

I imagine I’m going to practice on Gavin at home to perfect my technique.

Poor kid!

The Wrong Man

I’m not going to say every man I dated has been The Wrong Man.

Obviously it didn’t work out with any of them and therefore I could categorize them all that way.

But one in particular takes the cake.

The one who took me from a 35 year old vanilla divorcée and turned me into something a little bit more worldly.

Okay, something A LOT more worldly.

I’ve made peace with him, after a long period of silence.

I actually thanked him for pushing me outside my comfort zone so that I could grow as a person.

In some ways, I miss who I was.

That vanilla woman who didn’t know a thing about social nudity, BDSM, etc.

Those were the easy days when life was a little less complicated.

When I thought I knew the rules that would guide me to a long and fulfilling life.

Occasionally, I question whether my relationship with him was a TOXIC relationship.

In the end, I can only conclude that it was a DEAD-END relationship, as in the relationship was destined to run its course and end in a flurry of tears (mine) and disappointment (his).

Although, there was that one day when he proposed. . .

In the 10 years since the relationship ended I’ve moved on, struggling from time to time to incorporate what I experienced with the person I want to be.

Struggling to be a non-vanilla woman in the mainstream world.

And I have him to thank for it.

Missing Ribs

I follow a bunch of “Instagram models” and celebrities on Instagram.


Because. . . Instagram.

Since popular culture has decided to show me the female body in a less than diverse manner than it’s represented in real life, I consider Instagram my therapy.

I can follow short women, round women, curvy women, fat women, thin women, athletic women and just about any kind of woman you can dream up.

Some of my favorites are:


I also follow Suicide Girls, which is sort of a site for counterculture women with tattoos, colorful hair, and piercings.

These women tend to be more on the skinny side, less on the curvy side.

Until this:

Now, I’m not gonna say I didn’t have to pause a second before moving on, because I paused for a GOOD LONG WHILE before I took a snapshot.

What I am going to say is, “IS THIS PHOTOSHOPPED?”

Honestly, it doesn’t look real.

I’m no Photoshop expert, but I swear something here is stinky.

Either that or she had some ribs removed.