Dear Ones,

I have just joined "Random Tuesday Thoughts" and I think this is a wonderful idea. It will prod me to post on Tuesdays which should then prod me on to other days. You see, my life lately has been cattywompus and lopsided (which is how I describe myself after having "come down with" Bell's Palsy in 1995, having the worst case that three doctors had seen (Oh Joy!), and still only smiling on one side and having an eye that droops on one side, leaving the person talking to me kind of standing on their head to see me alright. (The first thing I taught my little grandson to say when he was somewhere between 2 and 3 is "Grandma is lopsided and cattywompus." I don't know why his parents weren't amused. I'm one of those funny grandmas.



(Naked)


Now, you see, I'm new to this and apparently you are supposed to have a "theme of the week" and this one's got something to do with being naked. As I am rather shy and startle myself when I get out of the shower and look at myself in the mirror, I'll just insert the word now and again so as not to stray too far and get kicked out my first week. Sigh ... (Naked)

Actually all the animals around here are always what you'd call naked, as I don't even dress up the pugs like some do, and when two of them got groomed last Friday they sent them home in snappy little scarves which I immediately took off because the pugs were blushing they were so embarrassed. I mean really. Give the boys a break. So I cut the sailor-ish looking scarves off but all the other nine animals (6 parrots, 5 dogs) laughed uproariously in an unseemly manner much to Sampson and Harvey's dismay, and they went slinking around in funny noses and glasses so as not to be recognized. It didn't work very well because now they were, you guessed it....


(Naked)


Then there's the matter of my kitchen counter. I am a lousy housekeeper as I believe I've said before. Taking care of 11 rescue animals, being a Minister-Writer-Artist, spending most of my day writing and answering calls, getting the dogs in and out 150 or so times a day (And doing "Poody-Duty" afterwards which takes awhile with 5 little poopers (That's almost Naked talk, I think...) does take awhile. In my little cottage the kitchen counter opens up into the living room and has longsince become a receptable for most anything I don't know what to do with which is, sigh, sadly pretty well everything I own. A poor dear soul came in to clean my little cottage today because the whole family and then some are coming in this week for my daughter's wedding. When she got finished and left I just sat here gawking. I felt a little frightened. After all, the kitchen counter was now -- say it with me -- Naked. It can startle a soul half to death to have a place so clean when most people who know you call you "The Absent Minded Professor" and at least in disarray you can at least find things (... if you are muddle-brained, cattywompus and lopsided especially...). I, however, don't mind if I never find anything again, because it looks so neat and clean that I just want to sit here and gawk like the Queen of England were coming for tea, and I can pretty much be sure that she wouldn't be Naked.

Add to all of this, this Saturday, the 15th, at sunrise on the beach, I am not just the mother-of-the-bride, but the minister officiating at the ceremony. I'm pretty sure a minister is not supposed to show up Naked, but I'm afraid I'll be so nervous at 5 a.m. when I have to get up and it is usually just about the time I'm going to bed, that I'll run out the door all rattled, and be.... Naked. I think I should put billboards up all around town with my phone number on them and have everyone in town call me at 4:30 a.m. and say, "Reverend Mother, don't forget to put your clothes on." I shudder to think about it.

I'm afraid I'd better stop here. All of a sudden I'm getting the urge to throw off all of my clothes and run around the neighborhood stark Naked, and I'm fairly certain that's an unseemly thing for a minister or anybody to do, so I'm going to sit here holding my clothes on with a death grip so as not to go crazy running in the streets, clothes strewn all over the living room floor. Perhaps if I wore my Flamingo Hat it would startle everyone that saw me enough that they wouldn't look at my 55 year old body dancing and twirling about buck Nekkid (I think that counts too?)



I actually have this hat and
have worn it, much to the
shock and dismay of my
neighbors, as I went out to
get the mail. A minister in
a flamingo hat walking 4
pugs, I imagine, is quite a
sight...

Wish me luck...

Reverend Mother (Completely Clothed) Maitri