I swear, it’s not what it looks like
I have roughly two more weeks of work–hard work–to finish up before T tracks out of school and we go to the beach for the Fourth of July.
My goal is to disconnect from serious stuff by June 30th for at least a week. It’s time. Really. I think I deserve it. Want to know what I’ve written about in the past few weeks?
Kitchens, feet, exercise, the elderly, the SAT, retired military men, an Oxford Scholar, psychology, a fiction contest at NCSU and North Carolina mountain excursions.
In between I “helped” T build an leopard habitat, for which we scoured the ground for moss and I received no less than 36 mosquito bites in nine minutes. I also tied ribbon around forty sacks of candy for Tyler to to sell at his school’s economic fair. I cut the ribbon in pieces that would have been perfect for a dexterous leprachaun, not for me, so that task was done in a fit of cussing. Because I wasn’t going back to The Dollar Store ONE MORE TIME.
At around the same time I changed health insurance, which then sent a message to my eyeballs to dry up and practically fall out of my head, which, unfortunately, is not seen as a medical issue.
I’m sorry. Where was I going with this? Oh, yeah. No more serious stuff. The point is that my idea of the perfect vacation includes something wonderful to read. So one day last week I went to Mr. Mike’s Used Books where I picked up a book called “Naked” by David Sedaris.
Now, Sedaris is simply an awesome writer; he’s one of the THE best writers ever. His stuff is all non-fiction and it’s edgy and hilarious. He doesn’t censor himself to be politically correct like a lot of writers, me included.
I had actually kind of forgotten about Sedaris so I haven’t read all of his stuff so I’ll have a treasure trove of stuff to read over vacation. (I know. This makes me sound like an incredible nerd, but I don’t care). Even better, Sedaris grew up in Raleigh, NC so much of his writing describes places I know of personally.
However, “Naked” has caused a bit of a stir in my suburbia.
“Mom!” Tyler yelled at me on the porch.
“What hon?” I asked, looking up.
He was so excited he couldn’t contain himself. “You’re reading NAKED?!!” He laughed hysterically. “Naked, naked, naked. Are there butts in there?”
“Tyler! It’s a book! And you shouldn’t say ‘butts.’ Go get your cleats on for baseball.”
He bounced up the stairs, “Naaayked! Naaaayked! Mom’s readin’ about Naaayked people.”
This morning at the baseball game I had it in my lap in the event I didn’t feel like talking, which of course never happens.
“Nice book,” my friend said, reading the cover.
“Oh, it’s great,” I said. “The author grew up in…”
“Why did you bring that here?”Jerry interrupted.
From his look, I could tell he was reconsidering his opinion of me.
“It’s not pornography!” I said, rolling my eyes. “It’s a real book.”
“Still,” he gestured at the cover. Okay. There was a pair of men’s boxer shorts on the front.
This afternoon I took it up to the pool to read in peace. I sat by the diving board, away from all the little kids since I was by myself.
I was at least two hours in when I noticed one girl almost fall because she was craning her neck to keep her eyes on the cover of my book as she walked to the diving board.
Two teenage boys glanced in my direction, too, smiling. Or maybe they were snickering. Look at that old lady reading Naked.
That’s it. I packed it in and headed for home.
From now on, I’ll enjoy Naked in private.