J.P.

Okay, so there has been stirring in the blogosphere about that Miss California USA woman and her topless photos that were taken several years ago. She’s the one, of course, that spoke up about her support of “opposite marriage” and articulately stated that she believed that marriage should be reserved for the union between a man and a woman. Since losing the crown of Miss USA (because of her beliefs, so the story goes), she has become a spokesperson for the National Organization for Marriage. Basically she is trying to be the new face for ‘traditional values’.

Why does it seem to me, though, that many of these folks have something to hide. There always seems to be some skeleton rattling around in a closet. Some have feet tapping in airport stalls, others hang out in public parks, some conduct shady financial dealings with the congregation’s offering. With Carrie Prejean’s case, it’s some topless photos.

Look, of course I have no issue with someone posing however they want to pose. If you want to show it off then show it off. That’s the beauty of the body, it’s meant to be enjoyed! What I do have issue with is people preaching one thing and then doing another. Hypocrisy is never a good thing. How can one trust a hypocrite? So I’m going to admit a few things, right here and now:

1. I have posed naked in several photo shoots in my day, one of them being in the middle of the woods on a summer day in 1992 behind a Baptist church. One shot made it to a magazine (and it was not an ad for Olestra).

2. I do not have breast implants.

3. On several occasions, clad in only fruit of the loom tighty whities and a black leather jacket, I was paid to dance on a speaker in a very large gay nightclub in Boston. I wasn’t alone, there were others on the other speakers. Each of us were a theme, I played the bad boy with red hair. Granted, it was 35 pounds and 20 years ago but nonetheless, I have been seen girating to the likes of “Vogue”, “Ice Ice Baby” and “Hold You Tight” in barely a suggestion of attire.

4. I say what I believe and I believe what I say. I may change my mind, I may think out loud, but it is always safe to assume that you know where I stand at all times.

5. I believe love is love no matter if it’s between a man and a woman, a woman and a woman or a man and a man. Love should be celebrated, because there’s clearly not enough love in the world today.

I have always been intrigued by the forest. It is in the forest (or the woods) that I find adventure, even if it’s a construct of my imagination. It is there that I am able to escape. As I stand alone with nature, I feel Mother Nature caress me with her breezes as they work their way through the pine trees that surround me.

As a kid the woods behind my parents’ house was my domain. I’d climb trees, I’d lie on the leaves and watch the sky or I’d build a little fort out of pine tree branches up against the slope of the railroad tracks bed. It was there that I discovered what made me tick, what thoughts lurked in my mind and where I found solitude and relaxation.

Yesterday we went for a walk along a paved trail that passes near the woods. I made a slight detour off the beaten path to grab a glimpse of what I love.

I was not disappointed.

So while Earl was working this morning, I convinced Cubster that we needed to make a trip to the market. This is not one of my favourite tasks by any stretch of the imagination as I am not a fan of these big behemoth grocery stores that plague this area. (We have five Wal*Mart Supercenters within 25 miles of our house). The stores are too crowded, there are too many people yakking on their cell phones and drinking a cup of coffee whilst trying to navigate with their shopping carts and quite frankly I don’t need to be bombarded with a multi-media presentation every 16 feet explaining to me the proper way to squeeze a head of lettuce.

The only exception to my large grocery store rule is Wegmans.

I decided to drive a few extra miles to go to the one locally owned grocery store left in the area. The prices are a little higher but the store is a reasonable size, making it easier to get in there, fling the cart around a little bit, load it up with the items we need and dash out after a friendly checkout experience.

All was well with the excursion until we got to the friendly checkout experience. The cashier glared at me as I approached her lane. I double checked to make sure her light was on, indicating that the lane was open and that I wasn’t in an express lane. It appeared that I was in the clear so I started loading up the belt with our modest number of items. The cashier just sat there looking at me. I figured she was dazed and confused but would eventually kick in so I finished unloading the cart. She just stared at me. So I said, “So, what do we need to do to start this?” as I motioned to the items sitting on the belt waiting to be scanned.

She grabbed the first item and flung it over the scanner, whipped open a bag and shoved it in there. She continued her pissy approach to this for the entire order going so far as to slam the bacon on top of the strawberries. When she was done she barked out the total (she speaks!). I swiped my card, signed “Betsy Ross” on the signature pad and grabbed the receipt as she flung it at me. I said “thank you”. She said “You’re welcome” (two words this time!).

I have no idea what was irking her but it kind of soured me on the “shop local” experience. I think next time I’ll avoid Register 8.

Or find a grocery delivery service.