umm, WHAT?

While sitting in traffic the other day I noticed this truck in front of me. Someone skipped out on Catechism a bit early. Amazing.

My head was spinning with the images before me. Was this person serious? (Imagine the back windows open! Hail Mary full of bow-chicky-bow-wow.) Hope this guy doesn't expect Mary to do him any favours...prob'ly not gunna happen.

How does he explain this to his mothers or sisters? Or Gramma? Oy.

I don't care what religion you are, this is disrespectful on too many levels.

You're o.k. I'm o.k.

Olly with the ladies
Originally uploaded by Oliver Steeds

I've been out and about lately, reading, pondering. Seems we bloggers have aging on our minds. So who wants to be America's Top Model? I guess, in a way, we all do. But then there's me. I'm some what low maintenance.

I met my best girl friend years ago. She is tiny in height in shape, but never in hair, nails, or ideas. She is huge with ideas. And generosity, but that's another post. My best girlfriend has always tried to "girlify" me, you know, help me dress better, wear make up, do something -anything- with my hair and generally fem up a bit. o.k. It's not like I'm a lumberjack, but that I am more the hippy chick wanna be. If I had my way I'd look similar to Dharma's mom, Abby Fincklestein, but I'm no where near that cute.

I gave up make up in the 70's because it was just to suffocating on my skin and after a couple of hours I looked like a raccoon anyway. Back then I was 105lbs. with stick straight hair. In the 80's I wanted big hair (read BIG HAIR) like everyone else. So I fried the juju out of it. I also gained a lot of weight so I ended up looking much like a before photo of Richard Simmons...no one wants that, so I eased up on the perms.

Most of the 90's and, up until recent dates, I lived in the perma-pony tail, still sans make up, and let my casual dress lead the way. I wear a suit to church on Sundays because grown up ladies are supposed to do that, but frankly, I'm not a fan. I would love to wear my peasant blouses, broomstick skirt and berks, but I do know that I don't look like Abby enough to get away with that. I don't dye my hair. I have really nice colour anyway, who cares if it is going gray now. I'm 50, deal. I both fell into the "beauty" trap and avoided it, I'm an enigma, go figure. But I am aging and with age comes wisdom, or at least one can hope.

There are wrinkles now. There is the funky stretchy skin all over and the bread dough tummy... probably from eating too much bread. I lose more hair on the pillow than Thor ever will. I shed. Holy cow, do I shed!

But then I think about the women on my favourite t.v. show, the women of the Kombai and Mek tribes. Beautiful black women who have lived their lives in the wilderness of their countries, no make up, no lotions, no Victoria Secret, no Spanks, no toothbrush or nightly showers, no clothes or shoes. No models to speak of, no bill boards or infomercials, no make up counter at the center of the village, nothing. What would Carrie Bradshaw do? Probably throw her Prada pursed, Manolo Blahnik shod and Victor and Rolf draped self off the nearest cliff.

I look at my face in the mirror and see the crow's feet beginning to hop around, I see the laugh lines and my still crooked 'period' teeth. I see the "highlights" of gray in my charcoal hair. I feel the aches and pains from standing on a ladder one too many times. But I also see the wisdom that is coming with each year, the not worrying about the little things anymore, the ability to let things go that are no longer important.

I look to the women who see me as the young kid, and who laugh out loud at all the fuss about carbs, low-fat yogurt and the number of inches on your heels. One of my dear friends, in her 80's, just last week shared with our lunch group how she just looked straight at her doctor and told him he could jump in a lake, she was fine with her weight and at her age she wasn't about to go on a diet. Don't get me wrong, she does water aerobics three times a week, and takes full care of her ailing hubby all the while pulling off a pretty stressful and time consuming church job. She takes care of herself, but she doesn't worry about the outside too much any more. "It's great to go to the pool now. No one cares if you're too fat if you're in your 80s!" She says with a laugh. "You should see those tiny little 25 yr olds! They worry about every little jiggle. They don't realize men LOVE jiggles!" With age came confidence in her true self; added pounds and all.

We live in the U.S. The birthplace of feminism, which was supposed to give us all the "go ahead" to be what we wanted to be rather than having to be what someone else decided for us. And yet, for all those grandiose ideas we all still look to Carry as the role model, as the "it" girl. (a women, I might add, who has wrinkles, smokes like a freaking chimney, colours her hair, and -for all her liberated lifestyle- only wanted what most of us already have, a husband.) What happened to being o.k. and good enough in our own skin? What happened to being revered for who we are and not for what we own, wear, or how large or small certain parts of our anatomy are?

Look at the women in the photo above. Confident, learned, knowing, even sassy. These women grew into themselves not a size 0 designer label. They grew into what they were divinely designed to do. As young women they had full round hips and breasts. As their children grew away from a mother's need, these women's bodies changed and adapted to their new age. Are these women wistful that their bodies have changed, drastically? Maybe. But they go with it anyway. They add to their dog teeth necklace, honours and trophies for their abilities and skills, not for their collection of Jimmy Choos, snow white teeth, or size two body after fourty.

They sag. Their legs are scarred and pocked. The skin drapes over their ligaments and tell the struggle of their existence and experience. Their hair is a ball of woolen snarls, but their eyes... look at their eyes.

I'll give you a minute, go on, click on the photo and check it out as large as it comes. Look at the women.

I'll tell you right now the two on the outside, well, I would love to talk with them. Don't they look fabulous? They look like they have something to say! All three of them look smart, confident, strong in opinion and ethics, interesting and humourous. Wouldn't it be grand if someone saw a photo of us, no clothes, no make up, looking straight into the lens and could say that about each of us?

Now that gal in the middle, don't mess with her, she knows what she wants and I bet she gets it...every time. She doesn't look angry or overbearing, but defined, focused, purposed, and even humble. I bet she is a good friend. Dependable. Sure. The gal on the left, seems like the gal in high school who had it all together, a bit of attitude - the good kind- and always on the edge of laughter, the gal who went to work and got it done. The cutie on the right, I want to know her the most. She just looks like she is ready to share a good story, such smiling eyes.

In their tribe these women will be worked literally to death. Yet in that work will come their honour also. They will be praised for the children they bring into the world, rear and train. As they become older their knowledge will be sought after, and as elders they will be regarded as wise and powerful. Even in their death they will watch over their children and grandchildren and the tribe as a whole. They are revered because they are women. That's enough.

My point is this: Take care of yourself. Eat right, exercise, keep moving, stay involved, but for heaven's sake, take a look in the mirror and give yourself a break. You were designed to wrinkle, gray, and shift your body weight. It happens, it's o.k. Embrace the fact you are aging, it's certainly better than the alternative! Dye your hair if it makes you feel better, but don't feel bad if you don't. Diet if you like doing that, but it's o.k. to buy a size larger (or even more!) than you did when you were young and single. Relax, you're going to be fine the way you are.

Being you is enough.

not that I expect an answer....

But what the heck is going on with the ol' gal-mones???

A few years back I got the ol' girl parts yanked, and life began to be good again, I highly recommend it to anyone! Yes, even guys, it was THAT GREAT!

So the dr. was all like, "Well now you will either go on HRT or be thrust into mental pause.", to which I said, "BRING IT ON!"
It was like...

Saturday: Get girl parts yanked. check!

Sunday: Sleep like the dead. check!

Monday: keep sleepin' girl, ya just got yer girl parts yanked. check!

Tuesday: Feel like you are twenty, with a bad case of the saggies, but hey, you feel like you're twenty who cares what you look like. check!

Friday: Maybe you should take your magic pills and see what they're all about. check!

Saturday: Find a brain surgeon to put your skull back together because the pain induced from the HRT s are freaking giving you the head ache of all freaking time and you are now allowed to kill any one or anything in your path. check!

Sunday: stay in a dark room with a bag of frozen peas on your head and pray to Rudy the pain stops. check!

Monday: Praise any and all Deities for allowing the dr. to be at her desk when you call and ask "What the heck is up with the happy pills? These things are killing me?" When she replies "You can decrease the amount until the headaches go away." You can do an interpretive dance expressing your joy. check!

Fast forward a week or so. We have decided that the best HRT is a dead HRT and they are banned from entering the property line, never to be seen again.

Now it is about 18 month or so past that time and once again I am getting the familiar ax in the eyeball headaches. Sweet Mother of Pearl what the HECK?

I have heard this whole mental pause thing is supposed to last about 3-5 years. Can anyone, for the love of PETE tell me an E.T.A. on these headaches ending?

If ye are prepared, ye shall not fear!

Don't you just hate it when you goof up? I woke up this morning in a panic. I had forgotten that I was to present a speech this evening at 6:30 and hadn't yet begun to prepare for it. So I hit the computer and have worked all day in hopes of presenting a half way decipherable message.

So here I sat in my pajamas ALL day and clicked and pointed my way through all kinds of search engines. (To make matters worse, at about 1:30 a young man from our family's past showed up- SURPRISE! I welcomed him in, handed him a cell phone and had him leave messages for everyone he wanted to surprise [besides me in my bathrobe] while I typed frantically.)

I called my sister and asked her opinion. That was a blessing as she directed me to a web site with invaluable insight and a wealth of knowledge on the subject. Whew! But more info meant MORE INFO! So I began to dig through and glean the best.

My only hope was that the speech was only for 15 minutes. But such a broad and deep topic that I was skeptical at accepting the assignment to begin with. Holy Hannah! It is currently 4:32 and I am finally done with my notes.

Here's the rub: At 3:50 or so, I realized today is Cinco De Mayo, May 5th. Umm, My speech doesn't get presented until the 19th. That's like what, 2 weeks away? Yeah, I'm stupid.

No Place Like Home!

Ugh! Lousy night sleep for both hubby and I. He dreamed that we were out in the desert and the guy at a hotel wouldn't let us check in because my husband was wanted by the police. (Evidently all those nights in Mexico are catching up with him.) S'mee? I had a dream where (miraculously) we paid off our current mortgage and hubby surprised me with a second home that had also been paid off.

The issue here was the 2nd home was an old school mobile home. In a "park". The mobile home was larger than the home we have now (not too hard to do), but it smelled like old people. Not like a convalescent home, but like old people perfume, and smoke, and broccoli, and heavy wet stale air. The interior was dark (due to the "deluxe" curtains with block out lining!) and filled with all kinds of "walnut paneling" and multi-coloured brown shag carpet. The house came furnished with over sized colonial furniture; sofa and love seat covered in "velvet" that had brown and gold scenes of mansions and oak trees - breath taking to say the least. That and the land lord was this skinny over tanned bimbette with a bright yellow fluffy bathing suit (-yikes!) anyway it was disgusting to see it poking out of her "trendy" clothes. (envision the 50's version of Bridgette Bardot, BIG hair, in a fluffy yellow bikini, baked in an oven for the last 40 years) She was very helpful as she kept reminding us that she "needed the $250 for that month's space rental. Meet me at the club house, by the pool." ("you forgot to fill out the paper work!")

I woke up wanting to rip out our carpeting, too late, that's already been done. So essentially, the dream was so real that I am just weirded out by this 'move' that isn't real. And Bridgette...uggh!

What did I watch last night?

The theory of realtivity or why eternity is only 30 years

I think I am posting more complaints than happy thoughts. I had made a goal for myself to try and be more positive in my observing and to try to post things that up lift rather than just have an open gripe session. Then this.

I met with a friend last night for dinner. Last night's kitten dish spilled the "details" of why two of my very good friends are getting a divorce after 30 years of marriage. From what I can tell both parties are -as usual- at fault. Now if this were just some random couple I could go on. But this couple made sacred promises to love each other for eternity. I know this is a foreign concept to most of the world, but in my religion we married FOR EV ER!

Even in a regular everyday wedding there is a promise in there somewhere about "until death do you part." right? Here's my difficulty: One party was away to long, the other party needed too much. One thing leads to another and they grew apart, leaving a gaping hole in which a third party was able to inappropriately comfort a member of this union. Now by inappropriate I am not suggesting anything other than conversation. But comforting conversation by a dear friend that leads to more intimacy than a couple currently share is inappropriate and will lead to destruction of one of the parties, if not as in this case, all three.

Next. One party files for divorce. The other party states that reconciliation has been offered and refused. "Too little too late" it seems is the excuse for them both. One party moves out and away from the situation and the divorce is proceeding.

My huge big fat ugly problem: In a U.S. civil union, "Until death do you part." is understood by most English speakers to mean that you are married until one of you is DEAD. No pulse, no heart beat or brain waves, cold, stone stiff, DEAD. Within our religion even the death will not severe the marriage and you are still indeed hitched. Best be careful whom you choose to stay with for eternity; or just a lifetime.

One party in this friendship of mine has begun dating another person. The other party is playing the martyr and "waiting until the divorce is final." - but already has committed to date a fourth party, who has shown interest and is willing to delve into this relationship as soon as "legally possible." UGH! I want to scream. (If there has been an agreement to date later, intimacy has already been established and the pretence of waiting seems moot.)

What are these people thinking? Even in the lowest possible legal sense they are still married to each other for at least a few more months. What happened to trying to forgive and compromise and make things work? 30 years down the tubes because someone has had it and is fed up. According to my knowledge the only abuse between the couple has been indifference and neglect. I don't think that is irreparable. It isn't easy by any means but isn't 30 years and 6 children worth ALL the trying until you get it right?

The outside parties make me sick. Why would anyone get in the middle of two married people? You have to be insane to do this. And why would anyone think of dating a divorced person so soon? Shouldn't there be some healing period or time to think? How about a year? I can hear people all over the place yelling at me and telling me all the reasons why it's o.k. But to me it just seems like everyone is asking to get into another bad situation before they have been able to clean up the last one and figure out why it went wrong. Everyone too busy feeling sorry for themselves and pointing their digits at the other person and never seeing what they did wrong to help speed up the destruction of their family.

I know. It's easy for me. I have been married to my high school sweetheart for the past 29 years. Think about that folks. Do you really think each and every moment of those 29 years has been rosie and that we were deliriously in love? Get real. 29 years takes more than love- it takes forgiveness, compassion, trust, commitment and hard freaking work at times. I thought that was what marriage was all about.

There are some actual deal breakers: Abuse that is mental, physical, or spiritual. From what they tell me, this isn't the case. And, as bad as the above are, I know of couples that have committed strong enough to even get through those. But not very often and I don't blame those who choose to leave dangerous situations. From what I have been told, none of these abuses happened. They just wandered apart and found other folks more interesting and didn't have the power to come back together.

I am so sad. I know of 4 more families that have fallen and it has affected more people than they will ever know.