To Pube or Not to Pube: A Sex and Hygiene Question

A female student walked into my Human Sexuality class with the following pronouncement:  “I just saw some ‘70’s porn this weekend – OMG, the bushes on those women!” Continue reading

Oh Dude!

Ever fantasize about going to a dude ranch?  Me neither.  So how did I come to find myself standing in line, waiting my turn to have lunch ladled onto my tin home-on-the-range style plate? Continue reading

69 Ways To Lick the Spoon in 2013

Licking the Spoon is the title of my book in progress about food, sex and relationship.  It’s also my metaphor for living life with gusto… Continue reading

Hooray for Pubic Health*! Part 2

In Part 1 of this post, I talked about how volunteering led to my career in sex education and then formal education in PUBLIC (not pubic) health (although I’m pretty knowledgeable about pubic health as well.) Continue reading

100 Coyotes, Three Cathedrals, and One Serial Killer

Previously, I described how a wealthy third grade friend sparked a love of nature within me.  She led me through woods, across swamp, and to the bank of a river that were all part of her family’s property, and I found them every bit as voluptuous as the mansion that fronted their land. Then I had the great fortune to spend summers at my grandfather’s cabin in the Pocono Mountains (the grandfather who fed me ice cream, not the grandfather who fed me wine).  It was a time and place when kids could roam freely, and play by circadian rhythms… Continue reading

Food and Drink and Love and Sex and…Health???

 So far, this blog is chronicling how I came to be interested in the topics of food, sex, love, relationship, health and nature – enough to link them in my book in progress, Licking the Spoon.  My first food was breast milk, the best food for an infant, only I don’t remember it.  What I do remember was the sexy feeling I got…

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Innocence Lost and Found Part 3

In Innocence Lost and Found Part 1 and Part 2, I began describing the year I spent in a small New Jersey town when I was eight: Cool Walter who claimed me with his kiss in the woods behind the baseball diamond.  My upwardly mobile and disappointingly racist mom.  Jealous Melinda, rich Nancy.  African-American Cassandra being treated like a contagious disease in Nancy’s pool.  I got in with her mostly because I couldn’t swim, partly because I couldn’t bear to see someone’s feelings hurt, and, well, I had liked Cassandra in the first place, DUH… 

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Innocence Lost and Found

When I was eight, I did a brief stint in prison.  By “prison” I mean a small town in New Jersey.  Don’t get me wrong; there were some lovely things about that town.  It was the pastoral small town of times gone by, with only two main streets, a lake in the middle, and the kind of safety that permitted third graders to roam unattended.  But unbeknownst to me…

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