In fact, my goal for this month is to disconnect from serious stuff. It's time. Really. I think I deserve it.

Want to know what I've written about in the past few months in an effort to "catch-up" for the time I'll be taking off? Kitchens, feet, exercise, the elderly, the SAT, retired military men, an Oxford Scholar, psychology, a fiction contest at N.C. State University and North Carolina mountain excursions.

In between, I "helped" Tyler build a 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 him to sell at his school's economic fair. I cut the ribbon in pieces that would have been perfect for a dexterous leprechaun, 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.

About the same time, I changed health insurance, which almost made my eyeballs fall out of my head, which, unfortunately, is not seen as a medical issue.

So, yeah: No more serious stuff.

The point is that my idea of a peaceful month includes something wonderful to read. So one day last week I picked up a book called "Naked" by David Sedaris.

Sedaris, in my opinion, is simply an awesome writer. His stuff is mostly nonfiction, and it's edgy and hilarious.

However, "Naked" has caused quite a stir in my peaceful slice of 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."

At his baseball game the next day, 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?" my husband 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 cover.

Later, 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.

Bad idea.

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. On my back porch.