In my last blog post, I mentioned skinny dipping in Lake Michigan.

When was the last time you took a naked plunge?

For me, the August evening was cool and damp after an afternoon of thundershowers.  I didn’t feel one bit like stripping off my clothes and jumping into the water. But because of the weather, the stunning beach I was on in a national park at the height of tourist season was miraculously empty.

So I went for it.

I did it for the blog. Ms. Blog Me Sexy makes me walk my talk and will not tolerate a missed sexy opportunity.

I did it for the nostalgia.  I grew up skinny dipping on this beach when it was easy to do, before my childhood home got the blessing/curse distinction as one of the most beautiful places in North America.

I did it for the thrill. Park rangers regularly patrol these beaches that have signs proclaiming: Public Nudity is Prohibited.  Prohibited! Think of the spanking I'd get if I got caught.

I did it because swimming naked is one of the most sensuous things in the world to do. There is nothing quite like the sensation of cool water infiltrating every crevice of your body.

I did it because otherwise, that beach walk would have blurred into the hundreds of others I’ve taken on that beach in my life.

Now I’ll never forget that mermaid-like feeling of floating on my back with arms stretched over my head, my hair matted like seaweed against my breasts as I dolphin-kicked under a slate-blue sky that turned Lake Michigan the same foreboding color.

Tell me your favorite skinny dipping story.

I’ve totally depleted myself of sexy.  There’s not a single drop left.

My man and I moved our life and our two businesses from Oregon to Colorado this past week. 

In case you haven’t done it in a while, moving is so not sexy. 

I kept myself going in the 95 degree heat with iced americanos, an indulgence I can't really afford because caffeine makes me feel so stimulated, so empowered, so sexy that I feel like I can do anything and everything until it wears off and I’m left in a heap with shaking hands desperately awaiting my next fix.

Today I absolutely must stop.  I have to quit borrowing on energy I don’t have.  For me, caffeine is an energetic debit card and after last week, my account is in the red.

Not long ago I was flush on sexiness.  Earlier this month I was flirting with other writers at a conference and skinny dipping in Lake Michigan.

If only I had stored some of that in a sexy piggy bank, like the ones I saw at a discount store that were all blinged out with rhinestones, looking like they could hold just enough sexy to jump start my clit.  I could hold that sparkling piggy over my head, pull out the plug and let all that stored sensuality rain down on me like golden coins.

I’m going to take that image to my yoga mat and start paying off this debt.

This weekend we have a wedding in Steamboat Springs that will be oozing with sexiness. Two friends will pledge their love, lives and lust to each other. How sexy is that?

I’m going to soak it up.

And bank it.

Sexy Prod:

What fills your sexy piggy?

What depletes it?

To my cherished readers: Internet connection has been a challenge lately and will continue to be so for the next ten days as we move into some remote travel.  This  blog will be random at best for the next two weeks.

Change is sexy.

Tumultuous at times, but ultimately sexy.

Take the publishing world for example.  It’s a jungle out there right now.  The traditional publishing paradigm—find an agent, get a publisher and keep writing—has been turned upside down and shaken by the increase and success of self publishing. 

Amidst all the chaos, there are some great opportunities for writers which I intend to explore.

But not today.

Because right now I’m in the throes of change myself. Our rental house in Oregon looks like someone turned it upside down and shook it. I really shouldn’t be sitting here blogging when I need to organize it all into boxes and load them into a moving truck.

But I am. 

Because I know there is a shred of sexiness around here somewhere and I’m determined to tap into it.

I have a new phone.  A new phone number.  A new post office box in Colorado. This all feels very fresh and sexy.

Yet I am returning to a place that feels very old, like I’ve lived it and loved it for many lifetimes.  And I’m not done yet.

My man and I are starting a new chapter and  we can write it anyway we want.

Now that’s a sexy thought.

Back to packing.

Sexy Prods:

What is the sexiest change you’ve ever made in your life? 

Write your next sexy chapter.
Writer's conferences are sexy.

Imagine it:  Hundreds of creative, passionate people from every genre hanging out together for three days to discuss the craft.  If you want to talk to one of them, all you have to do is walk up and ask them what they are working on.  

It's so easy.
After three days of this you start to believe you are social gifted and charismatic because every conversation you have is so incredibly engaging. 

At lunch on the last  day, I looked up and found myself captivated by a fifty-something woman sitting two seats over.  She wore her hair short and red and adorned herself in green. Her chartreuse -colored shirt dazzled under the flourescent lights.

I was drawn to her like a bee to a flower.  I landed in the chair beside her and "You are fabulous" spilled from my lips.

I absolutely love the purity of flirting with heterosexual women.

She's smiled at me with aquamarine eyes. "That's funny," she  said. "I was just thinking the same thing about you." 

In five minutes, we figured out that we both wrote memoir and we both studied the healing arts.  As the conference hall emptied around us for the afternoon workshops, she took one of my hands in both of hers and held it.

I closed my eyes and felt her sparkling energy flowing up my forearm like a spring breeze. I stilled for the first time in three days.

Her name?


Sexy Prod:

Any fun flirtations lately? Tell me about it in the comments.

Last winter I started having orgasms on my meditation cushion.  So of course,  I started meditating even more.

There were a lot of contributing factors, too much to go into in a blog post (oh how I love to tease!) but  don't worry, I captured it all in great detail for my memoir. I submitted the essay to a women's erotica anthology so you'll get to read it somewhere someday soon.

I find it fascinating that one of the sexiest things I do is… not much at all. 

Outwardly, meditation doesn’t hold a candle to visually arousing pursuits such as hooping or belly dancing (which I tried last week and ooh la la! I got completely seduced.)

But inwardly nothing else can compete.

Because turning off the mental chatter and tuning back into your body and breath heightens awareness. And awareness is a rich, black compost for cultivating sexiness.

Awareness catches me when I’m all hunched over my laptop and reminds me to roll my shoulders back, straighten my spine and breathe. Good posture is sexy.

Awareness quiets my Inner Critic so I can click on that 'Publish' button every week for this blog.  Confidence, as Sexy Survey #1 concluded, is ultimately sexy.

Awareness heightens all my senses. I start to appreciate the honey-colored beauty of the dried grass along my running trail after weeks of not even noticing it. I become amazed by the decadence of a single strawberry. Being sensually engaged in life is the definition of sexy.  

Awareness quiets my Inner Catholic Girl who’d rather hide in a baggy T-shirt than wear a torso-clinging halter top. Embracing your curves is sexy.

Besides, after sitting in meditation for twenty to thirty minutes, your body will want to stretch out on the floor and do some yoga.  Check out this post, if you don't already know how sexy that is.

Sexy Tip:

Plant a seed this summer to explore meditation this fall and winter.  Let me know what sprouts. 

If you already meditate, do you agree with me?  Do you get off on life more when you are sitting?  Anyone else having clit-quivering orgasms in the throes of practice?