Stepping out

As the world slowly reopens, so does my social life.

I actually stepped out a few days ago and enjoyed coffee with my friend George.

I was so excited to hug him, I nearly burst.

It was as awesome as I imagined it would be.

We sat outside Starbucks and chatted mostly about piercings and tattoos until he had to take off for a date.

Then yesterday I met another friend at Starbucks and what was supposed to be a 2 hour coffee date turned into an al fresco dinner at Oak & Rye.

Also, VERY GOOD HUGS!

I find myself jonesing for hugs now ALL THE TIME.

All in all, I’ve had a pretty good time emerging out into the world again.

My dear old truck with 246,000 miles on it needed a new battery so I took care of that today just as my kid’s sedan and my mom’s mini van broke down and had to be taken to the same auto shop.

I keep forgetting to bring a mask and I’m stymied as to why because it’s one of those things ingrained in me to do at Burning Man.

No matter where you’re going or what you’re doing, you always have a mask close at hand JUST IN CASE there’s a dust storm.

I’m just not used to planning that far ahead in real life.

It was enough of an accomplishment that I remembered to shower, do my hair and makeup and put on rea clothes (not just another pair of pajamas) to go out in.

Didn’t I look cute?

Happy re-emerging to all of you.

Can’t wait to get a pedicure!

Show my world to you

I’m craving Ethiopian food today.

Not just because there’s an awesome Ethiopian restaurant by me.

Also because I want to support black-owned businesses.

I want to put my money where it can do good and promote diversity.

I’ve donated to the ACLU.

And BLM.

I’m sure there’s many other worthy non-profits I could donate to.

But going to eat Ethiopian takes care of two birds with one stone:  I get tasty food AND I support a business owned by an African-American family.

I ate Ethiopian not long ago with my friend Austin who has since passed away.

I’ll never forget it took us 45 minutes to order our food because we were so busy talking.

And I was so busy staring into his eyes.

God, was he gorgeous.

Such a tragedy his life ended by suicide.

I’ll never go to that restaurant ever again without thinking of him and remembering how ALIVE I felt when I was with him.

Or listen to the Dave Matthew’s Band play “Crash Into Me” without getting teary-eyed.

I’ll show my world to you. . .

Blast from the past

Today I did something I don’t often do.

I looked up the guy I lost my virginity to on LinkedIn.

The reason why?

He’s not on Facebook.

And I was curious.

If I was expecting some big surprise or shock, I got none of it.

He lives in the Sacramento area and he’s an electrician.

I recognized him from his photo.

Older, though.

Same hair.

Same nose.

Just your average middle aged man.

Nothing to signify that someone ever gave him a gift as precious as virginity.

Of course, I don’t think he even knew.

But there you have it.

A blast from the past.

 

Getting caked

partyIf you told me I’d be driving myself home tonight, my hair caked with vanilla buttercream icing, I would’ve thought you were crazy.

But you’d be spot on. Because I did just drive myself home, with a head full of cake.

It was my fault, I suppose. In the process of cutting the celebratory cake at a party, my eye was drawn to a pile of icing on the plate. A big pile of white icing.

My mind immediately thought, ‘That’s a perfect pile of icing to smear on someone….”

But I resisted the temptation. Until Angelica encouraged me to express my inner desires. And that when I got mischevious.

I scooped up a big pile and walked over to John-John. I intended to nicely smear the tip of his nose – easy clean up, you know.

But when he saw me coming, he ducked out of the way. So I turned to my left and saw Frank standing there all nice and clean and unsuspecting. So I swiped a forefinger of icing across his cheek. He laughed.

And that’s when it hit me. A fistful of cake from John-John right on the top of my head. Low blow – creaming a girl in the hair. There’s just no easy clean up for that. So I turned, aimed, and launched a glob of icing though the air which landed right in his hippie ponytail.

Then it was WAR! After a few volleys of icing, the war was over. John-John retreated to repair my sunglasses which had broken in the scuffle (ironic he felt bad about the glasses but not mucking up my beautiful hair!).

Later, when John-John was talking to friends with his hands stuffed in his pants, I walked up and swipe a streak of icing across his cheek and licked my finger.

“Oh. I’m sorry, but I only got your cheek. Let me get you a napkin.”

I fetched a napkin, which just happened to be right next to the cake, and grabbing a second fingerful of icing, I walked back to John-John, offered him the napkin, then swiped his other cheek with icing.

The good news: I now know where my boys get their impishneess from.

The bad news: I could taste John-John on my finger when I licked it.

Ewwwww!

Sweden vs Norway

I get a lot of questions about learning Swedish.

Mostly people want to know WHY SWEDISH?

Why would a woman of Norwegian descent opt to learn Swedish instead of Norwegian?

That is an excellent question.

The answer is pretty simple:

Because Rosetta Stone doesn’t offer a class in learning Norwegian but THEY SURE DO IN SWEDISH.

And so, I’m learning Swedish.

Close enough for government work, as they say.

I did however take a moment to consider joining the Daughters of Norway.

Ultimately, I decided that now isn’t the right time.

I’m working on embracing diversity and equality more in my life and the DoN represent a pretty slim selection of what is out there.

Though don’t get me wrong, I do appreciate that they’re an organization of women maintaining their heritage and culture in a country which doesn’t necessarily embrace diversity.

So here are some little knows facts about Norway:

  1. The cheese slicer was invented in Norway, though cheese is often bought pre-sliced (something I remember from my trip to Sweden).
  2. The longest tunnel is in Norway.  It is 15 miles long and cost $113 million to build.
  3. Unlike most Nobel Prize awards, the Nobel Peace Prize is awarded in Norway, not Sweden.
  4. Some Norwegians live in Hell.  Literally.  It’s the name of a city in Norway with about a thousand inhabitants.
  5. In Norway, the last time a police officer shot and killed somebody was in 2006. [LINK]

If that isn’t enough to make you love Norway, then I’m at a loss.

 

 

Hugs needed

I’m missing my Burning Man community something fierce.

I’ve managed to keep in touch with some people, like Nadine and Tejas, but overall I’m missing the camaraderie of the larger burner community.

There used to be get togethers every week, it felt like.

Now, we’re all sheltering in place in our own personal spaces, missing one another.

I for one can’t wait until the Shelter in Place order is lifted and small group gatherings are permitted.

More than anything, I DREAM about having a weekend campout, perhaps at a certain nudist resort in the Santa Cruz Mountains, with my friends.

I have costumes to test out, after all.

And I have free hugs to give (and receive).

Plus, there’s naked swimming and naked pool volleyball to be had.

I can just picture myself lounging in the hot tub, tasty beverage in hand, laughing with friends.

I suppose this is all just a way to say I miss everyone I used to see regularly at Burner events and I can’t wait to share hugs and affection with them when we do gather together again.

It’s hard to believe we won’t be at Burning Man together in 11 weeks.

Normally, I’d be in the throes of preparation for my trip but instead I’m just reorganizing supplies and dreaming of TTITD.

Hugs needed.

I’m lonely.

I may have overstepped my bounds

I may have overstepped my bounds, a little.

In my enthusiasm over losing weight (a whopping 18.2 pounds as of 6/5/2020), I opted to buy the SLAVE GIRL PRINCESS LEIA COSTUME from Star Wars.

Yes, I did.

And honestly, I’m proud of the costume.

As boyfriends of mine will testify, I am ANYTHING but submissive.

So the fact that I’m working on a SLAVE Princess Leia costume and a SLAVE Egyptian costumes has nothing to do with my submissiveness.

Or my desire to be perceived as a “slave.”

Rather, I like the idea of someone who is powerful taking on a submissive role in order to undermine the fascist regime she is living in.

I love that the hero of Star Wars was Rey, a scavenger and a WOMAN.

I’ll admit, it’s a little early for me to be sporting a Slave Girl Princess Leia costume.

But honestly, isn’t it something we should all aspire to?

Taking the slings and arrows life throws at you and emerging triumphant over a slovenly Jabba the Hut?

I resonate with those fighting to create a better world, a better America for it’s citizens and a more responsible country for the world at large.

Riding Crop

Part of my efforts to reduce, reuse and recycle have included not just going through all my camping gear and supplies but also my wardrobe.

I have a ten foot closet with clothes just SPILLING out of it.

So a little selective weeding of the wardrobe was necessary.

I enlisted the help of my mother, which always assists me in making cut throat decisions when it comes to what stays and WHAT GETS TOSSED.

Haven’t worn it in 6 months?

Toss it!

Does it have a little hole that needs mending?

Round file it!

This process, of applying my mother to my wardrobe, always has some unintended consequences.

Like the time she folded my “Orgasm Donor” t-shirt.

Or the time she picked up my “Spank Me / Fuck Me” panties and just ROLLED HER EYES FOR DAYS.

This time around the process was uneventful, or so I thought.

Because as we were at the second hand store bringing in bags of used clothing to donate, I noticed my mom carrying in one of my bags. . .

. . . with my riding crop sticking RIGHT OUT THE TOP!

I’m here to tell you this:  You haven’t LIVED until you’re at the secondhand store watching your 75-year old mother carry in a bag with your “riding crop” sticking out of it.

Rings on all her fingers

I’ve been planning my Egyptian Slave outfit – for Burning Man or some yet to be unnamed party where I can show up in a bathing suit (so basically, a burner party).

I’ve decided that I need RINGS to complete the outfit.

If you know anything about me, you know how unique this is.

I don’t wear rings.

Even when I was married I never wore a ring.

Not my wedding band or my engagement ring.

I’ve never really liked the feel of them on my fingers.

But for this outfit, I think rings are called for, so here are the rings I’ve bought to adorn my fingers:

All these rings will be on my left hand.

I still need to find rings for my right hand.

But I think these will look good and I can’t wait to try them on.