Bits and Spurts

I've been lying about all week, caught somewhere between being sick and just being tired after a long weekend. I've barely read anybody else's posts this week, and until this moment have had no idea what to say on today's topic. Charity, it's a great thing, right? And I should be able to say lots about it, only I'm the poor sucker who volunteered to be the last blogger of the week, and I'm not sure what I could add to what's already been discussed.

We do give to charity in la casa de Madden. The Hubster is a federal employee, and participates in an annual program that deducts a certain amount of money (pre-tax) from each paycheck to give to the charities he names. We decide together, each year, what those charities will be. In addition, the man is Catholic, and as such tithes to his church. But these are really the Hubster's charitable donations, not mine. Yes, his money is my money since I am the stay-at-home parent and have thus sacrificed a regular paycheck to take care of our family at home. But still, that old feeling of "I have no money of my own" rears its ugly head whenever I talk about charity and finances.

When I had a day job, I used to give regularly to a couple of charities - Amnesty International, ASPCA, Alley Cat Allies and my local PBS stations. These were things I believed were worth donating to, and my beliefs are strong enough that we still donate to these organizations thanks to the Hubster's paycheck donations. Then there was the volunteer work I used to do. Usually it was just small things. I'm not Catholic, so rather than sit through Mass I used to volunteer to work in the church nursery, until I decided my kids were too much of a handful to deal with in addition to someone else's offspring. My only other "big" stint at volunteer activity happened before we had kids, Hubster and I volunteered to train at the local Red Cross as Emergency Services reps. If someone's house burned down in the middle of the night, we were the folks who would help them find a place to stay and help replace some of their goods. We were never actually called upon to do this, thankfully, but we were willing and ready.

These days, my good deeds are pretty sporadic. Once or twice, I have volunteered to serve food at the homeless shelter my husband's church hosts once each year. I have bought clothes and toys for children in need and dropped them off at the local Y or Salvation Army whenever I chanced to see their signs for donations. But it's all few and far between. Again, I have no steady paycheck, so it's hard for me to donate my own money. As for volunteer work... well, with two small children and the demands of my writing and graphics work, it's hard to find time to breathe, let alone volunteer for one more thing to do.

Last weekend, that exhausting weekend I referred to at the beginning of this post, I was at Marscon, a local science fiction convention. I went as a writing guest, and brought with me a stack of books to sell, including Alessia Brio's "Coming Together: With Pride." I made sure to explain to anyone who stopped by my table what Coming Together was all about, and pointed out that there were other authors who were there as well with other volumes of the books and promo materials too. We pimped those books hard, and I think Sapphire Phelan may have sold the copies she had. All for a good cause!

In addition to the books I brought, there was also this collection of Star Trek plates I had. My mother had given them to me ages ago, a set of eight plates with various Star Trek characters painted on them, and matching mugs. I love Star Trek, but for the life of me I never understood why my mother bought me plates! What was I supposed to do with them? Hang them on my walls? Eh, no. So when I arrived at Marscon this year, I brought the plates with me, still in their original boxes with their original certificates from whatever mint they came from. I handed them over to the convention's charity auction for the Humane Society. "I have no need for these," I said. "Please sell them to a good home." I was told Sunday that the plates went for around $50. The convention was grateful, and I was please that I could do something, anything, charitable while reclaiming a bit of space in my china cabinet.

So my charity happens in bits and spurts; a short story given to Alessia here, some plates donated there, a little time helping out when I can. I am not Bill Gates, able to donate millions of dollars to helping the world. I give what I can, when I can. And maybe that's what counts. I hope so.

If anyone here would like to make a donation to a worthy cause, please consider taking a look at The Boom Effect, an auction in action dedicated to Sonic Boom, daughter of Tee Morris, author of "Morevi" and the Billibub Baddings mystery books, and his wife Natalie. Earlier this month, Natalie passed away unexpectedly. A group of friends have gotten together to create a trust fund for Sonic Boom. Many authors and artists have donated their works and other items for sale. Yours truly will be offering a signed copy of Future Perfect plus a crocheted ninja (that's right, I'm going to crochet a ninja; don't ask how, just believe). The auction will be held on line 27 February. That's in just a few weeks. Consider giving what you can to this cause. Even a small donation will make a huge difference in the life of one little girl.

That's it from me this week. Go out and do good, or at least as good as you can.

Love Al Fresco

By Lisabet Sarai


As soon as I saw Jude's topic for this week, “The Great Outdoors”, I started rubbing my hands together with glee. What a fabulous opportunity to post some of my favorite photos! The posed snap of my husband and I stretched out naked together on a granite slab in the Sierras, sharing a kiss. The topless shot of me from that camping trip on Mount Shasta. Some of the many hot tub photos of us with friends, including the couple we've known for nearly thirty years who claim that we turned them on to nudism and who went on to establish a nudist resort in Arizona, which they then sold for more than a million dollars. Then of course there are the pictures from our coed stag party...

Fortunately rationality kicked in and I remembered my cardinal rule: never put anything on the Internet that you wouldn't be willing to show to your employer, your mother, or your priest. My mom had her wilder side and as far as conventional morality is concerned, I'm probably already damned, but I definitely don't want to take any chances with my job, which I dearly love. So I had to nix the pix.

I could tell you stories, though. There was the glorious June day at the Renaissance Faire, when my husband and I were so turned on by the lusty lads and buxom lasses that we sneaked off into the woods for a coupling au naturel. He tore off my laced-up bodice to expose my breasts, then burrowed under my long skirt to taste how excited the Faire had made me. I vividly remember making love with my grad school boyfriend on one of our trips across country. We were driving across eastern Colorado, basically desert, but we couldn't wait for a motel. We pulled into a rest area, wandered about fifty feet from the road, and jumped each other. Only afterward did I notice the gritty sand sticking to my sweaty body, the sun blazing relentlessly down, the scrubby cacti threatening our tender, bare flesh, and the shiny black scorpion ambling by, a mere six inches from my face!

Probably my favorite outdoor experience was one which did not involve actual sex, but remains in my memory as one of the most sensual and arousing nights in my life. It was just after New Year's in the mountains of Montana. With a close girlfriend, I'd driven all the way from Los Angeles to Missoula to spend the holidays with the young man whom I adored. (His feelings for me were, I believe, more equivocal.) He took us to a natural hot spring buried deep in the forest. I remember hiking a narrow trail in the darkness, under snow-laden evergreen boughs, until we reached a boulder-lined creek where steam rose from the water into the night air. How strange and wonderful it was to strip off our heavy jackets and sweaters, our jeans and our boots, and plunge our bodies into the deliciously warm pool! Someone had brought a flute. The plaintive melody echoed through the wood, and I was sure satyrs and nymphs were about to join us. Then we were alone, just the three of us, speechless in the silence of the winter night, exquisitely aware of our naked limbs brushing against each other under the surface. Lazy snowflakes drifted over us, vanishing as they touched our heated skin.

I recall the frigid winter air as we dressed afterward, the magic of being naked in the forest in the heart of winter. We found a cozy mountain lodge on the road back, and then my paramour and I did make love, silently, still caught in the spell of the enchanted spring. (My friend slept in the next room; my fantasy of making love to her never did become reality.)

As I got older, my outdoor adventures became less frequent. I've lived mostly in cities for the past decade. It's a bit difficult to find the privacy for an outdoor tryst. As I've gotten older, too, the balance between lust and the desire for comfort has shifted in the direction of the latter. I'd rather make love on a clean, sweet-smelling bed in a luxurious hotel than on a hard, damp bench in the park. I'd rather be groped on a leather couch in a sex club than pressed against a dank stone wall under a malodorous bridge.

Thinking about my characters, I realize that most of them are as urban as I have become. I've written a few outdoor scenes. However, sex in the great outdoors doesn't feature in all that many of my stories.

Nevertheless, I did have a contribution accepted to the recently published altruistic erotic anthology Coming Together: Al Fresco, edited by Alessia Brio. The theme of this collection is outdoor sex. All profits benefit Conservation International. My piece in Al Fresco is a chapter reprinted from Raw Silk, entitled “Reclining Buddha”, in which Kate discovers that Somtow, the handsome and decadent Thai aristocrat who has become her lover, has no qualms about coupling in the great outdoors.

Here's a brief peak at this lusty little interlude.

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They wandered among the ruins, which had a kind of melancholy beauty. The day was getting hot, but there was still a breeze. The vines rustled softly, whispering of days long vanished.

As they continued, they came to a grassy expanse dominated by three huge chedis, conical towers that looked like upturned children's tops. "The ashes of two royal princes and an abbot are buried within those monuments," said Somtow. "During the prime of the Ayuthaya, the chedis would have been gilded, and could have been seen from a long way, above the city walls. They are positioned to catch the last gleams of the setting sun.”

They stood at the foot of one of the chedis. Katherine looked up. Most of the stucco that had once covered the structure had worn away. She could see the precise brickwork used to create the tapering outline.

Next, they reached a temple that appeared to be intact. "Wat Suwan Dararam," said Somtow. "This temple was built near the close of the Ayuthaya period; it was badly damaged, but now has been restored. Shall we go inside?”

"Oh, yes," said Katherine. The shady interior looked very appealing.

"Leave your shoes on the steps," said Somtow, doing so himself. As they entered, an elderly monk bowed in a respectful wai. Somtow put some money in the wooden box beside the man, and picked up two bundles of incense sticks.

The interior of the wat was fragrant with sandalwood. Woven straw mats covered the floor, their texture pleasant under Katherine's bare feet. Columns carved with mythical beasts supported the peaked ceiling; brightly-painted frescoes decorated the walls.

An enormous bronze Buddha image sat at the far end of the sanctuary, surrounded by banks of candles, jars of flowers, and many smaller images. Several orange-clad monks sat before the figure, chanting softly. Somtow approached the Buddha and knelt reverently. He lit his incense from one of the candles, holding it between his two palms. Then he repeatedly bowed, bringing his hands and the incense to his forehead.

Katherine watched him with some surprise. His eyes were closed. His lips moved slightly with some inaudible prayer or invocation. His devotion was clearly genuine.

She lit her own incense and stuck it in one of the bronze pots, filled with sand, that were provided for this purpose. Then she sat quietly, marveling at the peace that pervaded the place, and at the transformation of her lover.

Eventually, Somtow opened his eyes. He looked at her and smiled, then took her hand and led her out of the temple. The sun was blinding as they emerged. The heat had intensified.

"I hope you were not bored," said Somtow.

"Oh no," said Katherine."It was lovely, very tranquil.”

"It is important to pay one's respects," said Somtow seriously. "Especially for me. I have such a need to make merit.”

Abruptly, his mood lightened. He grasped her hand again, smiling his infectious smile. "Come, I have something else to show you." He led her down the road, and then turned onto a winding path through thickening vegetation. Suddenly they came to a clearing. There, surrounded by bricks and rubble, was a massive statue of the Buddha, in a reclining pose.

As was traditional, the figure lay on its right side, the stone head resting on the right palm. Calm eyes contemplated them serenely. From the flame of knowledge rising out of his head, to the soles of his feet decorated with the eight-petal lotus, the statue must have been at least ten meters in length.
Katherine gazed at the figure, impressed by its scale, and its overwhelming air of quiet power. She lost track of Somtow for a moment. Then she heard a sound behind her.

She turned to see Somtow, totally naked, lying on the grass in the shade. Like the statue, he lay on his side, his ear resting on his hand. Unlike the Buddha image, though, his expression was one of mischievous invitation.

"Somtow," Katherine exclaimed. "You are completely outrageous! Don't you consider this disrespectful?”

"The Buddha rejected asceticism. He taught the middle way, moderation in all things." Somtow grinned."I am just more moderate in some areas than others.”

Katherine shook her head, disbelieving. Her Thai prince looked as irresistible as usual. His hair was a bit disheveled, curling damply on his brow. His pale skin flowed with patterns of shadow as the sunlight filtered through the trees. His cock was hugely erect, glistening with a bit of premonitory moisture.

What the hell, she thought to herself. She pulled her tunic over head, and stepped out of her skirt. The breeze was delicious on her bare skin.

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The great outdoors – doesn't everything seem cleaner, purer, more natural? Even the raunchiest scenes!