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.

It's a new day.

Like I mention in previous posts, Thor and I married young, in 1976. In all those years we have lived a few different places. Our first place was in a smallish town near the big city. We had little finances to play with so we lived in a tiny apartment in an "o.k." neighborhood. Things went well. Yes we had a murder in the field next to our complex, yes, there was a rape and a few burglaries in the area before we moved. But all in all it was home.

We moved back to our home town just minutes before our first born made his entrance into the world. That apartment was also in an exciting neighborhood. The gal across the sidewalk was a late night worker if you know what I mean. She would set her two toddlers out on the porch while she "entertained" her gentlemen friends, then scoop them up and put them back to bed once the guys left. Kids would riffle through the dumpsters, a house across the street was robbed once, and well, it was home.

Our first "real" house was in another small town. We were the only house on the block for a bit, well us and the strange family across the street. Eventually other houses would be built and folks would move in. Families like the one on the corner where, if you knew about it, you could score some pot. One night the police came to our door in search of "evidence", seems one of the neighbors made another neighbor mad and they fought in our front yard. Someone lost a finger and well, there you go. Good times.

We moved from that house and into an in-law's. We baby-sat that house for a while during their out of state move. A nice house with a huge floor plan and a pool. And evidently a large neon sign that said "Please take any vehicles left in the drive way!" Our one and only car was stolen. Oh well, we liked the pool!

Then we moved to the place we are in now. The second year we were here the house behind ours, kitty-corner, ended up being a crack house. The house across the street had a parolee, and the house down a ways was occupied by a habitual wife beater. Actually beat the tar out of his wife right in our front yard with the kids (ours and theirs) watching.

Still in all those years, all those homes, all that "fun" we never felt the need to lock a door. It was a joke actually. Anyone who knew us would exchange horrified looks when we told them to just come in if they needed to drop off something while we were out. We would leave for vacations and never lock a door. We would come home after long days and find a kid asleep on our couch, not our kid, just someone's friend who knew we were a safe place to rest until their parents could pick them up.

Last Saturday Thor went down to Lowes, laid down $145.00 and brought home a deadbolt and new knob for the door. It's a first folks. Never since I was 18 have I lived anywhere I felt unsafe. But the robberies are happening with regularity and during the daylight hours, and with just moments to spare as far as timing. You leave the house, someone breaks in and by the time you get back from the grocery store everything is ransacked.

Don't get me wrong. For years we both felt it was much better to allow someone to come in and steal what they felt they needed and walk away. Heck, what have we got that is all that great to begin with? Not much. An old piano, an out of date t.v. with a big yellow dot here and another green dot over there. A radio that still plays cassette tapes along with the c.d., and two computers, one with Vista, so you know no one wants that one! Still it's the thought that these robbers trash the place while they search. grrr.

I don't much care if someone takes my "things" just do it with out making me have to replace all the stuff you leave as well. So we have locks now. I hate locks. I hate feeling unsafe. I hate being somewhere I know my neighbors lay in wait to abuse my good nature. I am not a huge fan of creepy people as neighbors.

What to do? What to do? Not much. All we can do is what we have done. Try to make it difficult and harder for our house to break into than someone else's on our block. Great. I feel like "Hey don't rob us, rob our neighbor, cause they didn't protect themselves as well as we have!" Yah, now I'm hoping someone else gets it before we do. ugh. So we now bolt the doors, lock the windows and pray a lot. I went and made a key for each of the kids and there you go. Now we are like everyone else on the planet. Cynical and wary. I hate being wary. It makes me weary.

It will never happen to S'mee....

Plane Crash I, July 25, 2004 - Fort Collins, Colorado
Originally uploaded by gregor_y.

Almost twenty some years ago I was driving down a city street to deliver my sis in law back to her home with her kids. My minivan was packed to the gills with all of my kids, her kids and it had been a long day. As I drove, I saw ahead of me in the sky a small plane. It was dipping and tilting and I pointed it out to my sis in law just in time to see it completely lose control and dive into the local fair grounds' largest building, exploding on impact and killing the two passengers. Luckily, the building had just been emptied and no one was inside.

This has left a huge imprint on S'mee's little brain. Planes aren't all that fun if they get into trouble.

S'mee's sis in law (yes, another one) left from Vegas this afternoon with her little girl for CA. Her hubby needs to stay and she needed to get home so a short 45 minute hop seemed logical. She left and was expected to arrive sometime around 3:00. Her hubby called me about 7:30 to tell me that she didn't land on time. In fact she had been delayed due to "wing flap failure". Her plane had to circle the airport until fuel was spent so that it could land without benefit of wing flaps, making the landing "very fast". Sis in law reports that all is well, but after seeing the fire trucks, ambulances and other emergency vehicles and personnel waiting for them, it was less than fun for their first flight.

This is my nightmare. I can only imagine what goes through one's head when faced with circling for two plus hours...and what do you say to your little girl?

Holy COW! Tonight's prayers will be a tad longer!

my opinion

And also cometh the testimony of the voice of thunderings, and the voice of lightnings, and the voice of tempests, and the voice of the waves of the sea heaving themselves beyond their bounds.

And all things shall be in commotion; and surely men's hearts shall fail them; for fear shall come upon all people. (D&C 88:91)

As I watch telecast after telecast of the coverage of this past week's devastation, I am being told what I see is worse than a war zone, worse than the Tsunami, worse than the Twin Towers. All this is being blamed on "Katrina" and her coup de main , when in reality perhaps the chaos and real damage is a little more home grown.

Children being raped and then shot and left to die and rot in front of their parents. Elderly neglected. Abuse by hoodlums. The near dead being taken to the morgue so that they can die, without aide and alone, but with some form of dignity is hard to wrap my thoughts around. The dead being left to decay in the buildings, streets and waters so that the living can be attended to with basic human necessities. The survivors living in human waste, dying literally of thirst.

I see elderly men openly crying because they left their own families to try and help others and now cannot find anyone they even know. Babies under blankets lay dead in the street. Bloated bodies buoying in the water, marking the flood level with their death, float by the homes they dearly loved.

Mass confusion from those who should (did?) have plans in place, left standing wondering what to do, and where to go, and how to start resolving this overwhelming situation. I hear the accusations and see the fingers pointing to ill prepared officials. I hear the remarks of hurting people who feel they were led to slaughter because they were the poor or "non white". I see folks trying to help only to get verbal abuse for not doing enough or being less than adequate. City leaders and protectors who saw too much and whose hearts failed them to the point of suicide make me cold inside.

I hear their stories. The good people, who through inability or pride (does it really matter now?) stayed and were hoping to ride through this storm and trusted in their neighbors. I am sure they understood the danger and some even knew they would never go home; however none went into shelter knowing they would live through such "friendly fire" terrorism that was inflicted upon them via the gangs who were confined with them. Thousands of people, even military in helicopters, controlled by less than a hundred teenage/early twenties young "men" who joined together in their quest for evil and delayed help when it did arrive. Gangs who turned on their own people shooting and looting and fighting to take over the city which gave them birth so that they could prosper in rage and iniquity. Callus minions who have succumbed to the most base of behaviors.

It makes me look back a year when Thor and I were guests of this city. We stayed in the Hyatt Regency that is literally linked to the Super Dome. During our stay we took a drive to see the city. We took our New Orleans Tourist Guide book as a resource of where to go and what to see. We were curious about the cemeteries and thought we'd go for a look. According to the Guide book published and distributed by the city, warnings were given to avoid going into certain cemeteries -even during the daylight hours- because they were frequented by persons who were known to beat, rob, and "worse" anyone who they came upon. Cemeteries are a high risk tourist stop and they recommended tourists and others stay away from Cemeteries #_, #_, and #_ without secure escorts or with a small controlled group and professional and certified guide. 2 of these cemeteries were located quite near the Super Dome.

Thor and I thought that perhaps driving by them would be o.k. as we wouldn't be going inside and would not be in harm's way inside a moving vehicle outside the gates, in the street. Not so. As we drove down a particular street (not at the cemetery yet) at 10:30 a.m. we were immediately greeted by young men with bats and other rods who began to gather in from of our car in an intimidating manner. By the time we reached the center of the block 10-15 men had already begun to block the street ahead of us, the street behind us already being blocked . Thor mentioned that we would not be going anywhere further but directly out of this area and began to drive quite fast as we almost hit the men as they refused to move out of the street, some actually banging the rear of the car as we past. It was meant to scare us and it did.

These are the neighborhoods from which many refused to evacuate before the storm and are refusing still. These are the neighborhoods from which we are hearing the stories of gang rapes and child abuse as the norm prior to the storm. (such as in M*'s comment #15, "Barbarians" post) These are the neighborhoods that have subjected themselves to years of dependence upon social aid and lack of education and self-reliance. The same neighborhoods where police and fire refuse to go after the sun sets because of the violence and lack of respect for the law. These are the people who choose violence as a way of life and lawlessness as a creed. These few are controlling the many. Drugs, alcohol, lasciviousness, lewd acts, and lack of respect for anything or anyone rule these few people. They have no faith, no God, no higher power or authority to answer to.

These people's hearts have waxed cold and dark and seem fixed upon the ill things in this world. They thrive on the confusion and fear. They are like roaches that come out in the dark to feed upon the scum and scatter in the Light. These are they, "who did infest the land; for so strong were their holds and their secret places that the people could not over power them; therefore they did commit many murders, and did so much slaughter among the people." (3 Nephi 1:27) "Imagining up some vain thing in their hearts, that it was wrought by men and by the power of the devil, to lead away and deceive the hearts of the people; and thus did Satan get possession of the hearts of the people again, insosmuch as he did blind their eyes and lead them away to believe that the Doctrine of Christ was a foolish and a vain thing." (3 Nephi 2:2)

I am not saying "prophecy has been fulfilled", or that "the end is near!"; however, the Book of Mormon has shown us the cycles and we are in the midst of them. Again today, I hear that snipers are shooting at those who would take people to safety. This has nothing to do with race or economic favoritism. These "people" are lost of any human Spirit and they have nothing but evil running through them.

The media is focusing on the problems and calling the blame Katrina or political neglect. The good people of New Orleans (and elsewhere) have been relocated. Yes some of them complained about their situations and were less than thankful. However, they are using verbal weapons to vent their frustrations. I am more concerned about those who still refuse to leave, to allow volunteers to clean up their homes and rebuild their city, and who continue to try and kill anyone who comes to close.

Surely we are headed towards that day when men's hearts will fail them; and if we are not more Spiritually prepared we will fail as well.

have you ever had that dream where you are n*ked?

Last Wednesday I had a really nice opportunity to over expose myself to a group of women I blog with over at Conversation. This was both a great and dreadful day. Great because I got to see these women who freak me out with their intelligence and grace, and dreadful because they would see firsthand that I am a genuine goofball who cannot shut up.

I have often explained that folks either really like me or hate me. This is, in part, due to the fact (scientific studies involved!) that I am in a 2 percentile of folks who have clinical split personalities. Not that I am going to run amok foaming at the mouth and then sit down quietly and write the Great American Novel. More along the lines that I am indeed, both right and left brained, neither dominate. I am an exact 50-50. Sanguine Melancholic. Conservative Liberal. Believer of following the book and yet believing that the book must be thrown out. Creative and Logical. Free Spirited and completely manic about organization. Colouring inside the lines and knowing that there should be no lines at all. Loving educated people and wanting to know so much, yet such a dither-head with no formal education at all. Believing parenting to be the most important job on the planet and having five children who most think were raised by wolves. Entranced by glittery pretty things and hating the diamond industry so much I only wear Cubic Zirconium.

This is why, when my #1 read my blog his first remark was, "I don't know how to say this mom- without insulting you totally- but, you sound a lot smarter on the blog than in real life." I write, tragically, better than I speak - especially in small cozy groups at a table for the first time. Unfortunately, most of the blog writing is also goofy and without a point. I am confidently nervous. Shyly verbose.

So on my blind date with four other women I managed to monopolize the Conversation and flap my arms well into the night only to drive home while smacking my head against the dashboard in embarrassment.

These women intimidate the wazoo out of me. I have a short term memory situation, which kept me from keeping stories straight and because of that (making an excuse here) presumed these ladies were closer to my age than they were. (HAHAHAHA!)

Sister #1. blew me away with her sweet shy personality; but mostly her accomplishments so far. She is like the Doogie Howser of the linguistics world. Traveling to Europe both on her mission and during her education she has incredible experience to back up her vast knowledge. She is humble and amazing all at the same time. I can't wait for her to go out there and conquer her world. If we could only get her to write more often about her life! Time will come and eventually school will be over for her- and watch out, the things she will have to share! P.S. I wish I had more time with her to just ask her about her heritage and the places she has been and how she feels they are similar, different, and how the experiences have complemented her growth. Amazing.

Sister #2. again set me back with her youth. Knowing she had all this really awesome knowledge and was also the mom of a couple of guys encouraged me to make her much older. She has a fascinating blog that chronicles her world travels and adventures. The thing that caught me with #2 is her confidence and again her ability to make one feel comfortable among the stars. She has this way of making a statement that assumes everyone at the table understands her and isn't impressed, "hey we have all done this right?" kind of statements. Yeah, right. NO. Nope. Not at all. Look up 'self motivator' in the dictionary and you can see her picture. This woman has no fear and it shows. She has such a range it's scary. I hope this one writes a book someday, it would be a great read.

Sister #3. has had such an interesting life that she impressed me with her attitude of succeeding when it seems impossible. She is, in the face of trials, a beautiful ship headed for a peaceful cove. Not that there won't be a rock or two along the way to steer clear of, but in the steering comes more knowledge of how things work out for good, and in the end, isn't that what it's all about? She also has a terrific humour, which I always find attractive in a friend. She will have an exciting life to share with all who know her. I have much to learn from her.

Sister #4. A mom. A busy mom. She made time to visit with us when in reality she was in the middle of her family vacation! She has a varied list of accomplishments and seemed to be able to converse with each sister at the table -and had some form knowledge in each diverse subject. Knowledge like hers does not come along often, especially packaged so creatively. Her art and computer skills preceded her, so I was expecting someone similar to who showed up, but her ability to specifically relate to everyone at the table was unexpected. Talk about writing a book! This poet in mother's clothing has something to share with all.

Sister #5 I have known for quite some time, but always blows me away with her ability to shine. I have seen her hard work pay off for years. She is always on the move towards learning and doing more. Her accomplishments read like the resume of 10 women, and she does many of those things at the same time. Crazy. A sense of humour and a creative mind and someone who can think on her feet. I wish I were more like her. She will die in motion, I just know it. She never sleeps, and if she does nod off it is only to allow the muse in her dream to add to her qualities and aspirations.

Sister #6 would be S'mee. Uneducated and mouthy, but with an observer's eye and a heart that continually hopes for the good things in the world. Good things like these five sisters. I am blessed to have met them and gleaned some positive things from each of them. Thanks ladies, you made my trip a good one.