I’m hooked on ginger and licorice Yogi tea right now. The individually wrapped tea bags have the extra bonus of a Zen-like saying attached to the string.

So far, two have escaped the garbage this winter.

Around the winter solstice this one resonated and got wedged beneath a fridge magnet:

Travel light, live light, spread the light, be the light.   

And during a particularly frustrating week, this one made it all the way upstairs to my meditation altar:

Trust brings peace.

But enough with the tea bag spirituality.  This blog is about staying sexy. So, I’ve been thinking about how fun it would be if Yogi tea vamped up those sayings. 


Write a lust letter.  Send it.

Touch yourself until you quiver.

 Lick chocolate off your lover’s body.

 Those fabulous earrings you save for special occasions?  Wear them today.

 Dance naked in your living room.

 Your cup of tea would heat you up in more ways than one. 

The problem for me would be that I'd want to save them all.  I'd have those littte squares of paper all over my house like erotic confetti.

Actually, I rather like that image. 

Feel free to share some sexy tea bag wisdom of your own in the comments section.

Sexy Link:
Check out this article from More Magazine:  Eight Ways To Have Better Sex.

January is my least sexy month, especially this year with the lack of snow for back country skiing. I’ve been enduring it, willing the thirty-one, cold dark days to pass quickly, like a bad cold

It’s such non-sexy thinking.

So I’ve decided to make a shift.  Instead of fighting it, I am simply going to allow January. Because there is something very mammalian that keeps me in bed for ten hours at night. And that uncontrollable urge to devour a fourth piece of pizza?  It must be primal.

I’m surrendering fully and sensually to:

Long steamy showers every night before I crawl into my pre-heated (electric mattress pads rock) nest of soft flannel and down.

Four servings of pizza.  

Big cups, as many as I want, of organic ginger and licorice tea. 

Cutting my swim workout in half and making up the difference in the hot tub.

Naps on the couch between chapters of erotic fiction.

Big bowls, as many as I want, of homemade vegetable soup.

Slow luxurious hikes rather than running.

Yoga and meditation by candlelight in the dark hours of morning.

Sexy Tips:

1. Curl up on the couch with a book by erotic romance novelist Megan Hart

2. Try my Sexy Pizza recipe:
Use Wasa Crisp Bread (usually located in the cracker aisle) for your crust. I use the Light Rye or Hearty Rye varieties. Cover them with sauce and your favorite toppings and bake for 20 minutes at 400 degrees. They are light, crispy and oh so sexy with a big salad. Even if you eat four.   

 In my last blog post, I mentioned my first public erotica reading at the Seattle Erotic Arts Festival.

I dressed for the occasion (obsessed about it all week, of course) and ended up wearing a little black dress with some knee-high black leather boots that I scored at a thrift store in Aspen.  The boots have always been a tad bit big, but nothing a pair of thick socks wouldn’t cure.

I made the mistake of pulling them on over a pair of sheer black stockings as we rushed out of our hotel to catch a cab to the event. We arrived at the festival just in time for the literary arts readings.

When my name was called to read, my nervousness suddenly manifested as sweaty feet, making the inside of my too-big boots feel like they were covered in olive oil.  So there I was, coming out as an erotica writer, trying to be all sexy and I could hardly walk because my feet were slipping around so much inside my high-heeled boots.

I made it to the stage but as soon as I planted myself in front of the microphone, my legs started trembling like they do when I get really nervous. I’m a yoga teacher, so I took a deep breath and tried to ground my energy as if I was standing in Mountain Pose.  But there was no stopping the earthquake as my feet kept shifting like tetonic plates inside my boots.

I scoured the audience for my husband for support. 

Being super connected energetically to my man is amazing when we are on the dance floor or in bed. It wasn’t so great when I was on stage and he was unknowingly clutching my faux-fur trimmed suede cape to his chest, mirroring my anxiety.

I shifted my gaze to a cute tattooed woman in the second row and silently thanked the literary arts judges for choosing my grilled cheese erotica story, one of my shorter essays that is only three pages long. 

You may be wondering what could possibly be sexy about a grilled cheese sandwich. You’ll find out in detail someday soon when I publish my memoir, but in a nutshell, the story is an exploration of desire and, bless her, the tattooed woman laughed in all the right places. The pages stuck together from my sweaty palms and I ended up tossing them on the stage as I read which garnished a few more laughs.

I got a round of applause and practically collapsed in my man’s arms when I got off stage without falling on my face. The elation was the equivalent of running a much-anticipated Class IV rapid at the end of a long day of paddling.  But instead of being rewarded with  a beach camp and a cold beer, we had the rest of the night to explore the festival.

Now that was an adventure. A fabulously erotic urban one.

Sexy Link:

Check out the Seattle Erotic Arts Festival.
Our wedding rings were never sexy.

Oh we tried, we really did.

My muses live in jagged white peaks.  My man gets off on kayaking whitewater.  We both love to backcountry ski.

So we incorporated the theme of mountains and rivers into our wedding vows and the design of our rings.  

Our quirky jeweler, whom my man described as having too much fun in the sixties, never got it right. But the rings were passed around and blessed by everyone at our wedding, so we wore them for what they represented until all the inlaid river jade fell out, making the engraved mountains look like they’d been strip mined.

Now that I am flirting at writer’s conferences and doing sexy surveys in bars, I thought it might be a good idea to have a ring on my left hand.

Besides, I need to be more specific with my intention. The mountain and river theme of the old rings worked, I suppose. Right now we live in the Blue Mountains right by the Grande Ronde River.  But these mountains get more rain than snow and the river isn’t exactly known for its whitewater.

I’d seen some cool rings on display at the Pike Place Market when we were in Seattle last spring for my first erotica reading at the Seattle Erotic Arts Festival.  At the time I was too tired from partying all night to inquire seriously about anything, so I grabbed one of the artist’s business cards.

A few weeks ago she made me a ring.

I feel like a new bride, the way I keep looking down at my hand and twirling the band around my finger. The thick silver is textured like wild grass, the kind that sticks between my toes when I am dancing under the influence of a June full moon. 

It embodies the wild, raw beauty of the earth, which is ultimately sexy for me and exactly what I need more of this year.

With this ring...

May I manifest more kisses, like the flirtatious splash of the river on my lips as we paddle our raft through a rapid.

May I create more caresses, like the brush of fresh snow between my thighs as I lunge into a telemark turn.

May I experience the swell of a warm ocean seducing me back to my salty self.

This ring is just going to get better with age as the patina sets in. 

May it be the same for me.

What are you adorning yourself with this year?  Be intentional about it.

Sexy Links:

If you are craving the seduction of the earth, check out my reed ring artist Kristin Schwartz at Silver Cherry.

If you thirst for flow, or you are trying, like me, to manifest a beach adventure, adorn yourself with some beach glass jewelry from Green Waves Glass.  Nancy Koerber designs cool necklaces and bracelets for men and women.

Feel free to share the links to your favorite jewelry artists in the comments section.