Information Overload

Here's another shot of the old pier at New Point, which is nothing but bare posts stripped of their planks. Speaking of stripping, my mother has written a little something that she'd like to share. It's a little something I like to call Too Much Information.

I am in utter and complete denial that Christmas Eve is tomorrow, and after reading this post, you will be in utter and complete denial that you ever visited this Life in Mathews site. I do not blame you, not one bit.
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Voted Best Dressed
by Chesapeake Bay Woman's Mother
I was born naked and from what I can remember, nobody in the delivery room screamed or went blind. I was a little smaller then, but what is the big huge deal, why be so appalled by Nature’s original plan? After all, did Nature include cloth, needle and thread in the package? Not in my package. Are we to assume that God took care of all the other animals, with feathers and fur, and forgot about us, his masterpieces? I think not.

Oh, sorry, too much information for your already overly informed brains (CBW is now interjecting herself here to say I am nodding my head so fast my vision is blurred. Now back to my mother, whose disturbing images are already in progress.) Well, toughen up, ‘cause when you die, they send you to the morgue buck-naked * in a bag with a zipper over your nose and a tag on your toe, neither of which is Gucci.

No other animal on this planet is ashamed of or prudish about his natural physical state like the human one. We’re so far advanced in intelligence and evolutionary adaptations that we run and hide when spied in the undressed condition. Interesting.

Since we are as we are, the question of why is moot; but the next time your modesty overpowers reason, just try to imagine a highland gorilla skittling about to find her cover-up when approached by a stranger. Of course not, that might be considered neurotic and even foolhardy if the stranger had a gun.

Here on the Chesapeake Bay, we sometimes** disobey the law and go as God intended. Husband frequently entertains by flinging open a door and appearing resplendent in his favorite leather belt. That’s all, just the belt. *** No shoes, no socks, just the belt. ****
Mind you, he reserves such behavior for my eyes only.***** We are hoping.******

Sundays are our favorite time—the neighbors are in church, fully-clothed and praying for the likes of us. Last Sunday I heard Husband in the kitchen. So, I got undressed, went downstairs, flung open the door, and asked, “Have you seen my belt?” He did smile.

It’s only a matter of time before we do jail time and have records.

Until then, I’m going shopping for a new belt.
-CB Mother
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Chesapeake Bay Woman's Comments and Pleas for Help

*Or, as some people around here say, butt naked. These are the same people who say chimbleys instead of chimneys.
** Where “sometimes” is defined as “often.”
***I’d like to take this opportunity to say this about that: WAY too much information.
****CB Mother? We heard you the first time about that daggone belt.
*****Thank goodness for small miracles.
******Excuse me, I have to phone a therapist now. There has been substantial, permanent and irrevocable damage to my psyche caused by the images conjured up in this post.

Is there some nice family out there who doesn’t run around naked and tell their children about it? I’m officially up for adoption.