Updike's quote which moved me from solidly interested to seriously crushing was delivered when he was receiving the Campion Medal: "... the Christian faith has given me comfort in my life and, I would like to think, courage in my work. For it tells us that truth is holy and that truth-telling is a noble and useful profession; that the reality around us is created and worth celebrating; that men and women are radically imperfect and radically valuable." YES! YES! YES! That is a totally sexy statement to me. I love the idea that there is a a sacredness to telling stories which have deep truths at their core. Certainly this is evidenced in Christ's parables which pepper the gospels. And, of course, non-religious folks could feel all these things without needing a creating God at the center. But, I do have one, a creating God that is, and hearing Updike speak about how his faith influenced his work has me reading differently.

Another essay discusses why he picked his topics. He said that sex, religion and art are "the three great secret things".  Updike states he chose to talk so much about sex because it was nearly universal. And, it was an entry point into the other two. Plus, sex, in his opinion, and in the opinion of Freud and Kierkegaard and others, and death were uniquely and critically linked. Sex was the ultimate manifestation of feeling alive in the face of our eventual death.

I strongly remember the first time I  heard this. It was fall of my junior year in high school. Our English teacher had just gotten her doctorate in theater at Berkley and come back to Texas to take care of her aging parents. She had no ideas about what you should and should not say to a room full of hormone laden 16 year olds. During a discussion on Hamlet, she went off on the pairings of sex and death in literature. She really went off. Hijacked the entire lecture with examples from Shakespeare, Cole Porter, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Hemingway ...... and others who now escape me.  Our suburban minds were shocked. We sat there wide-eyed and stunned. However, It was all we could talk about at lunch. Most of us had not "gone all the way" and the whole idea of orgasm being "the little death" certainly confused us. Even if we had messed around in the backs of cars, the guys were rarely talented enough yet to get us screaming for deities and fighting against our own mortality. 

Interestingly, Valentine's Day seems like an interesting day to explore such passionate themes. And where better than poetry. First, Updike, in a somewhat silly, sensual poem titled "Food". And then a favorite of mine which very gently combines  sex and death, in the midst of a sonnet about love and loss. Enjoy. And may your day be filled with sensuousness and passion.

Food by John Updike

    It is always there,
    Man’s real best friend.
    It never bites back;
    it is already dead.
    It never tells us we are lousy lovers
    or asks us for interview.
    It simply begs, Take me;
    it cries out, I’m yours.
    Mush me all up, it says;
    Whatever is you, is pure.

Love Sonnet XLV by Pablo Neruda

Don't go far off, not even for a day, because--
because--I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run
together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty
distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander lazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

Also last week, a different friend told me I worry too much. This would be a good time to add that in this season of life, I find myself strongly relying on my friends for their insights about me. I think I am in the mood to be coached. I have signed up with a personal trainer, and am seeing the results of another person's eyes and expertise looking at my habits and helping me change them. I feel like I am asking this of my dear friends, too. "Hey, btw, when you have time ............ could you remind me who I was before cancer and heart attacks and mortgages and parenting turned me into a bundle of nerves? I know I have grown and strengthened, but I think some whimsy and joy got left along the road when I did not mean for it to. What do you think? And ..... when you have more time to think about ME, how the hell do I get it back? Just curious .... if it is not too much of an imposition."

I find myself looking backward and forward in time, but having a hard time hanging out in the present. And I want to be in the present. I think it is important. One of the things that most amazes me about Christ is his ability to know the past and the future, but still have such laser focus on the moment at hand. Plus, thinking far in the future, promotes that aforementioned worry. "Distance creates monsters in my head," I wrote to a friend today. In relationships of importance, for me, this is especially true. If I am used to talking to someone like my mom every week, then when I have gone two weeks, I begin to fret. When I have not had a real or cyber conversation which lasts long enough to drink a cup of tea as we chat in a relationally expected time period, I create imaginary monsters.

And monsters put strain. I act insecurely. I imagine woes where none exist. I seek affirmation. And I have been creating this particular flavor of monster as long as I remember. And I am pretty fucking tired of it.  I deeply want to get to a place where when distance of time or talk occurs, my first thought is not, "Wonder what I did to offend?" but "I wonder what joys and challenges are so filling both of our lives that we are too busy to catch up?"

Because I know for me, the flash of anger dragon will always hang out at the gate when important treasures of my heart feel threatened. And monsters will keep popping up on distant horizons as relationships ebb and flow. But they can be nicer "Pete's Dragon" style dragons. And funnier, cuddlier Sesame Street monsters. And I can learn to giggle with them when they come out to play.

Okay, you who asked are probably the one who are annoyed when I am hanging out in food and politics instead of sex. Truth is, if I am not having sex, then I overcompensate with amazing food. I have occasionally wondered if I went a month with exactly the type and frequency of sex I wanted (selfish I know), if I would not care the slightest about epicurean delights. Something tells me they are very related for me, both being such hedonistic pursuits. Perhaps they actually beget each other. But, if you ever hear me doing a week on Chick-Fil-A and beanie weenies, you should wonder what the hell I am up to.

I had three cheeses. The first was Fog Lights by Cypress Grove. I had tried their Humboldt Fog before, and it amazed. Fog Lights is a knock your socks of tart, flavorful cheese. You would think stinky, but it is not. Unless you did not like the flavor, and then that taste-olfactory connection would lead you to believe it smelled bad. This is a Grand Dame/Diva cheese. No one else has room onstage if you are eating this one. Instead of a more traditional ash line ( that is what Humboldt Fog has) this has ash all between the cheese and the rind. It is a soft goat cheese, and normally with those I eat the rind, as I did here. But should you choose to do that, this cheese really belongs at the end of the meal in a true cheese course. Think assaulting your taste buds with wasabi, then trying to taste the nuances of food. Not very damn likely. It was wonderful. It was amazing. I will certainly eat it again. But it is not for the faint of heart. And at room temp the rind remained a little stiff, so next time I think I will just scoop out the gooey goodness in the middle to see if that makes it play better with others. If you are unsure of your audience, Humbolt Fog is the safer, delicious choice.

Cheese number 2 was Nancy's Hudson Valley Camembert. This cheese at room temperature is meltingly delicious. On apples - it was the bomb. Last night its star status was obviously eclipsed by the Fog Lights. I think the Hudson Valley felt a little pouty at being relgated to second fiddle. It was so close to a triple cream that I kept checking the label. Amazingly wonderful. Perfect to share. Any fan of soft cheeses would love this. Even here it is not getting the due it deserved because it was so upstaged.

Cheese number 3. If I hade been doing a cheese tray for company, obviously here I would have put a cheddar variant. Or at least something orange. My personal fave here is Cahill's Porter Cheese because it is laced with Guinness and it looks amazing on the plate. But, this was for the princesses, so I picked my favorite semi-hard Spanish cheese, Iberico. it is a blend of three milks, and it is not as dry as a manchega which makes it easier to slice when on the board. Their vote was that it ws too soft. Good Lord. My 12 year old said, "Mom you could have just bought Port Salut." What a sassy little cheese snob I am raising! So, when I am including cheese for them, one click softer than a brick of parmesan is apparently as soft as I am allowed to venture.

The frommage amazed, however my scale and my pocketbook will have me back in life-sans cheese for at least a month. It will take at least that long to run off the effects of last night.

What I really wanted to chat about today though was my new dream sex toy. Guess ............... what do you think I would list? ................ Are you picturing it? ........................ My answer is ............. a kitchen timer. Yep, that is what I meant to say. I am still all about kissing this week. Cannot get it out of my brain. And, I think any sex is better if it starts with great teasing, ramping up kissing. The rules should be no hands under clothes. You are free to tease from the outside: stiff cocks through jeans, taut nipples through bra and shirt. But the only exposed skin contact is that which is normally exposed in everyday public life. And lots of kissing. For 30 minutes. I would be tempted to cut the fun short. Hence the timer. I think if I did this, at the end of the 30 minutes, the sex would be sheer magic. Just thinking about it is making the possibility of sex sparkly and making my head spin. Oh wait, those are the stars from hitting my head.

Part of what has me cheerier is that tulip plants have appeared in the local grocery store. I love tulips. I grow roses, but I covet tulips. They do not do well down here in the swampy south. Bulbs tend to rot in the ground before they bloom. And it does not get cold enough. So when the still planted ones begin emerging in the stores in January for $6, I buy one each week until my birthday in April.  They last all week.

One thing that I adore about tulips is that each day they are different. First they closed and upright, like a Roman legion in tight formation. But as they continue to abide, they loosen up. The blooms splay open. Then the  stems curve and bend. By the time they are ready to retire, they look relaxed. There is a beauty in their early rigid incarnation, but my favorite stage is the more laid back, casual end. I can see how the Dutch became so enamored of them that they wrecked their economy.

I think the most romantic thing would be to be interrupted from a good book by a great kiss. This has never happened to me, by the way, but I can imagine it. Sitting on my sofa reading a book, ideally a new novel by a favorite author. Let's say, Arturo Perez-Reverte. And I have been anxiously awaiting the release of this book. (And not yet a Kindle for me here, Mr. Bezos. This fantasy takes a book.) It is a rainy Saturday, the kids are gone and it feels like just me and these delicious words. I am sure I am wandering around 17th century Spain on some quirky adventure in my brain.  My husband comes up, smiles and kisses me. It would have to start tender and slow, because I have a book in my hands. A REALLY good book. And my head is 4 centuries earlier traipsing the moors halfway around the world. The tender continues, and the book, held reverently at a 45 degree angle for reading, slips an inch. It is not in my lap, but it is thinking about heading there. Now tender is morphing to something more insistent. He moves closer and his body and lips begin to press into mine. The book is sandwiched, but not yet crushed between our bellies. His tongue, traces my lips and teeth. My tongue begins to answer, coming out to play and seeking his. I am not yet won. This is a good kiss, but it is a good book, too. I will take wooing here. This kiss must come with the implicit understanding that the book is on the top of the mountain and only dedication and pure seduction will knock it aside. And it has to be mine to choose.

His hands come up to my face, caressing my cheeks. I feel my head tilt of its own accord, resting in his palm. A hand moves to my neck, my most sensitive spot, between ear and clavicle. Feathery touches dancing along my skin. Then his palm is against the side of my neck, his fingers wrapping around to the back. His touch feels strong and male. My head shifts again, leaning to the left, so that my chin and shoulder squeeze his hand. He pulls me into him, and I am undone. He knows it. He feels it in the way I respond. Being so verbal, I probably whimper. It does not take a rocket scientist at this point to know the book can wait. One hand leaves my face, finds the book, and with expert maneuvers, places it on the coffee table while neither losing my place nor breaking the intensity of the kiss. Now we are in full court press. I slide underneath his weight. Arms and bodies entwine as our tongues have.

Yum. Double yum.

I think kissing is a hard thing to learn and teach. It seems like you get it or you don't. Back in single days, I kissed guys who were amazingly handsome, good dancers, and moved like sex on a plate when they walked. They carried themselves like they should kiss well.  But, then the kiss was wimpy and fell short. And fidgeting guys who were geeky as all get out who could kiss such that the clothes seemed to just peel themselves off my body. And ..... *oh my*, there was this one man *whew*. I think I dated him 2 years too long because *hot damn* his kiss still makes me swoon to think about. *fanning myself here* If we had been apart and he kissed me, I literally felt like I had to sit down or faint.

I could never really tell if a relationship had potential until we kissed.

The most wonderful and despised thing about kissing is that you can not do it alone. Orgasm, ayep, you betcha'. And if your hand is not enough, there are toys galore to help you get there. Been there, got those. No kissing toys. And who would want one. *blech*  The closest I have ever experienced is in the shower. Not a hard, massaging shower, but a spray, rain-feeling shower. The flow is warm, but not hot, and I open my mouth, sticking out my tongue like a schoolgirl trying to catch snowflakes. The streams of water closest to me tickle my tongue and lips. Some droplets bounce up, misting my face.  A bit of warm liquid flows down my throat, while the rest cascades out of my mouth and down my naked body. My tongue darts and flits, teasing the water. The spray lands all over my tongue, from the now hard, pointy tip to the flat, soft, middle section. Invariably, I shiver, wanting more.

But there is no more from a shower. A water god does not emerge from the tap and "take me" right there in the tub. And, it is just not the same as a real kiss. Nowhere close. It is just a paltry stop-gap for times, like my husband's frequent business trips, when kissing is not on the menu.

B-52's Vision of a Kiss

I'm havin' a vision
A burnin' vision
I can't wait forever-(I can't wait, I can't wait)
I'm havin' a vision of a kiss from your sweet lips

Totally Fucked from Spring Awakening

There’s a moment you know…you’re fucked –
Not an inch more room to self-destruct
No more moves
– oh yeah, the dead-end zone
Man, you just can’t call your soul your own

But the thing that makes you really jump
Is that the weirdest shit is still to come
You can ask yourself: “Hey, what have I done?”
You’re just a fly – the little guys, they kill for fun

Man, you’re fucked if you just freeze up
Can’t do that thing – that keeping still

But, you’re fucked if you speak your mind

And you know – uh huh – you will

Yeah, you’re fucked all right – and all for spite
You can kiss your sorry ass goodbye
Totally fucked – will they mess you up?
Well you know they’re gonna try

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah

Disappear – yeah, well, you wanna try
Wanna bundle up into some big ass lie
Long enough for them to all just quit
Long enough for you to get out of it

Yeah, you’re fucked all right – and all for spite
You can kiss your sorry ass goodbye
Totally fucked – will they mess you up?
Well you know they’re gonna try

Yeah, you’re fucked all right – and all for spite
You can kiss your sorry ass goodbye
Totally fucked – will they mess you up?
Well you know they’re gonna try

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
Blah blah blah blah blah
Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
Blah blah blah blah blah
Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
Blah blah blah blah blah
Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
Blah blah blah blah blah

Totally fucked!

Number 2 is "Breathe" by Anna Nalick. Seven of the top ten were big-ole' wimpy weepy songs, with Robert Earl Keen's "I Would Change my Life" taking the prize as the tear-inducing winner. WTF? Time to banish Sylvia Plath and update the soundtrack of my life with a bit more cheer. Suggestions?

I think some of the comment discussion between Arthur Dent and me on the last post stems from a definition of civil rights. The web gives lots of options, but my favorite comes from the LBJ school kids section. It seemed to be about my level of understanding.

"Equal treatment of all people with respect to protection of the law and to the enjoyment of life, liberty and property."

This seems a little like that "pursuit of happiness" clause. So ephemeral. I think happiness is rather like chasing smoke by an outdoor campfire. While you can create conditions which make it possible for smoke to appear, you cannot really corral it. It will come and go. But, as Americans, we say we should have the right to chase happiness or any other windmills we so desire. As long as it does not hurt others. Or step on others civil liberties.

Given that it does no harm, yes, same sex marriage should certainly be allowed as long as marriage is sanctioned, recognized and supported by the government.

But before writing, I was catching up on Facebook and read this. It was thought provoking for me. And the politics section of prom queen has been severely lacking. So, stripper polls will have to wait a while.

***All those marching or taking the day off in honor of MLK today should consider what the good Dr. would think of todays great civil right struggle (same sex marriage). If you think he'd agree, then keep on marching. If you dont, then go back to work! Remember, while he was a baptist preacher,he was also a noted Libertine, womanizer and adulturer and definately in favor of "alternate" marital arrangements. Go MLK!***

I am all for championing gay rights. Very much so. And for gay marriage. And getting closer on gay ordination. Just so you know where this is ending up. But it is gonna be a circle to get there.

While I do not agree with most of the essay, "From Selma to San Francisco?", and certainly not with his conclusion, I do agree with this point: gay marriage is, for me, not a civil rights issue. Says Sheelby Steele of the  Wall Street Journal , “But gay marriage is simply not a civil rights issue. It is not a struggle for freedom. It is a struggle of already free people for complete social acceptance and the sense of normalcy that follows thereof--a struggle for the eradication of the homosexual stigma. Marriage is a goal because, once open to gays, it would establish the fundamental innocuousness of homosexuality itself. Marriage can say like nothing else that sexual orientation is an utterly neutral human characteristic, like eye-color. Thus, it can go far in diffusing the homosexual stigma.”

I DO strongly believe that homosexuality is currently erroneously stigmatized in our country. And that stigma should be removed. If allowing marriage does that, then bring it on. But, my larger issue is that all sex outside of one man-one woman matrimony is still stigmatized to some level in the United States. Well, at least it certainly is down here in the Red Republican Zone. I think the  meta-issue is that we need to look at our national puritanical views on sex to see if they are who we want to be. Abstinence only sex ed is not seeming to help us out much. Could a politician stand up and declare with her candidacy, "My husband and I have an open marriage. I am an honest person, and who I have sex with has no bearing on my ability to do this job,"? She could say that, but I sadly don't see her getting elected to the school board.  I would ,of course, vote for her. But I bet all her supporters would fit in my petite living room. I do think gay marriage is the place where challenging long-held, rigid sexual morals is most on the national agenda. And so as the beginning of social change, I hope more civil entities begin to legalize homosexual marriage. But I have actually gotten very libertarian about this and think the state should just get out of the marriage business. Scrap it. Leave it to religious entities. Let the feds pick a maximum number of adults you can file a joint tax return with, and that is the number you can also share insurance benefits with and all the other civil perks that come automatic to married people.

And of course there is debate as to what Dr. King would have said on this issue. Yes, many of his close circle have agreed that adultery was part of his MO, so in this article I will take that as fact. Apparently there are some FBI tapes to back that up. But, just because he did it, does not mean he actually supported it. And, what he would have said about homosexuality is anybody's guess. On her Outtake Blog, Charlotte Robinson asserts, "Jack O'Dell, former Southern Christian Leadership Conference activist & aide to Dr. Martin Luther King states "Dr. King would have fully supported Gay Marriage." Coretta Scott King agreed." But his daughter, Rev. Bernice King has said, "I know in my sanctified soul that he (Dr. King) did not take a bullet for same-sex marriage." 

I think homosexual marriage is an important issue, one that needs national attention and national leadership. My hope is that rather than placing the mantle for this issue on the shoulders of the deceased Dr. King, someone current rises up to champion more sexual openness for all consenting American adults. Wouldn't that be a fun person/holiday to celebrate?