Lighten up, Ladies!

Is it just me, or does it seem like charges of sexism have recently been flying around faster than fleas on a pound dog?? Now, I’m proud to be a woman and nobody’s ever accused me of being too accommodating – but it feels that feminism is being used like a brick to beat people’s heads in. Or maybe (a distinct possibility) the media is simply reporting all this in its ever-lovin’ quest to rile folks up.

But here’s a few things that have been amusing me lately:

Case #1:  The Oscars. Seth MacFarlane, champion of adolescent humor, was specifically chosen to host the festivities in the hopes of attracting the frightening 18-25 year old male demographic. So naturally, Seth opened with a song & dance number esoterically titled “We Saw Your Boobs.” I laughed most of the way through it, particularly the ending where the lovely Kate Winslet was named for basically all her films. Two days later, succumbing to a tsunami of feminist outrage, even the inimitable Jane Fonda had to fake it. Come ON, folks. It’s not like this tribute was some kind of revolting slander (can you imagine the ire of actresses who went topless and then were left out?) And btw, nobody forced these actresses to take off their brassieres (I love that word). I’d call this a strong case of Much Ado About Nothing.

Case #2:  Taylor Swift decides to take deep umbrage over Tina Fey & Amy Poehler’s comment (at the ages-ago Golden Globes) about her propensity to date around and to slam old boyfriends in her songs. That throwaway comment is apparently now being construed as an anti-feminist attack, says Swift, using Katie Couric’s “There’s a special place in hell for women who don’t help other women” line. Well, Katie should know – she’s pretty much in hell right now on ABC. But still, couldn’t this all be construed as Taylor’s misplaced PTSD anger at Kanye West? Why would you attack two of the most beloved & hilarious women in the business? And why would you bring up something that everybody’s already forgotten, thus assuring the topic will be back on the table in time for the release of your next album, filled with bitter songs about your ex-boyfriends??

Case #3:  The New York Times reports on a research study attempting to isolate the cause of Americans’ steady gain in weight and girth over the last three decades. The study posited, among other things, that as women went to work—or just went online — the decrease in physical activity (including a 50% decrease in housework) might be partially responsible for weight gain. And women on the comments board went postal. Sisters, you’re arguing with facts, not fat-haters. Women & Men do less housework. Fact. Women & Men are heavier than they used to be. Fact. Housework is physically demanding and burns calories. Fact. That’s science, not opinion –and has nothing to do with men trying to lure you back to your vacuum cleaner & Ajax (although if they do, you have my permission to whop ‘em with your duster). Which brings me to my final case…

Case #4: Marissa Mayer, CEO of Yahoo recently asked all telecommuting employees to start coming into the office, as opposed to working from home, beginning June 1. She is summarily crucified on the comment boards for being an anti-feminist mommy-hater. Which is ridiculous for a lot of reasons: 1) All telecommuters aren’t women. A lot of men are home, not doing housework. 2) As a new mother herself, Marissa brings her baby to work with a nanny in the next office, but apparently that’s even more of a class-clobbering insult, making her the new Marie Antoinette. But since when did everybody start getting the same perks as the boss? If she were a male CEO getting helicopter rides into work with her entourage, it wouldn’t even be a news story.  3) Mayer probably only brings the baby in to work to avoid the “Worst Mom Ever” label she got slapped with when she indicated she was only going to take 2 weeks maternity leave. That sure wouldn’t have been my choice, but then again, I don’t have her job  – and it’s yet another “perk” of being the one in charge. 4) Finally, Yahoo is on life-support, staggering along trying to fight its way back into the ring with Google. Mayer has managed to increase shares of Yahoo stock about 50% since she took control of the company six months ago and made some fairly creative changes. Creativity works best when everybody’s in the same room, rubbing up against each other and their weird ideas. I say, let the woman do her job and see what happens. Hey– telecommuters might even learn to like getting out of their pajama pants and going into work. *

*And before you get offended by that last remark, I was a single mother. I went back to work because I had to; I wasn’t getting child support. And I was the partner in an advertising agency. I know from experience that you can’t have everybody working from home and have a thriving creative work environment; it just doesn’t work that way. And now that I’m in pajama pants far too much of the day, I also appreciate the value of having to get dressed in the morning. ( :  Peace & Sisterhood, y’all.

A Word a Week Photo Challenge: Industrial

Reflection of Tokyo

Since I spent last year going around the world visiting the projects of Heifer International, most of my photos are of cows, pigs and llamas …

Okay, I couldn’t resist.

… but I did find some shots of cities, too.

Tokyo dawn

Yerevan, Armenia

Havana, Cuba

Shanghai, China

Shanghai, China

Shanghai

But since I’m kind of OCD in the cleaning department, I kept thinking I should include this, too!

(not my photo…obviously.)

Happy photo days! And here’s the source of my frothy excitement:  A Word A Week Challenge – Industrial (suellewellyn2011.wordpress.com)

Winter Valentine

I woke up today thinking of the photos I took at the Denver Botanic Gardens in January.

It was freezing cold, and the gardens were clasped in the icy grip of winter.

The pictures reminded me that love can last through any season.

And bloom again & again.

Happy Valentine’s Day!!

And as a final kiss, here’s one of my favorite poems from e.e. cummings:

O sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the
doting

fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched
and
poked

thee
,has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy

beauty        how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and

buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods
(but
true
to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
lover

thou answerest

them only with

      spring)

A winter garden in Mexico.

On New Year’s Day, when everything else in San Miguel de Allende was closed (including most people’s eyes) we went up, up, up to the beautiful Charco del Ingenio Botanical Gardens.

This 100-hectare protected site includes canyons, cactii, succulents…

The real mescal plant.

…canals, aqueducts, dams, and mills from Colonial times… …a still functioning dam from the 19th century, sculptures, and artwork.

It’s a fabulous place to walk, explore…

and scare yourself silly if you’re so inclined to climb down a 200-foot ravine.

Of course we were so inclined… and the reward was utter tranquility at the bottom.

And the family that’s scared out of its wits together is knit together, right?

On solid ground!

Possibly the best New Year’s Day ever.

(This counts as my first — and probably last — Word a Week challenge. Shamed into it — I mean INSPIRED by all my overachieving blogging friends.)

Happy Garden Day, y’all!

My Left Knee.

Yet another 2 spectacular scars to add to my collection (And YES they operated on the correct leg!)

In between writing that will actually EARN me money this year (what a concept!) and doing a lot of house-and life-cleaning that somehow eluded me last year, I also squeezed in a little time to have knee surgery on Wednesday. What fun!

Not really. I realized how much I didn’t want to have surgery to repair “unspecified” damage to the meniscus of my left knee at my pre-op appointments where I was the biggest sour-puss you can imagine. I scowled at the

My addiction

nurses, got into an utterly pointless gun control argument in the waiting room of the surgery center (I really was in a bad, stupid mood), and resented every rule and regulation I was given. When I learned mine would be the last surgery of the day, I couldn’t believe I’d have to fast for 16 hours — and skip my morning coffee. It only occurred to me later that it also meant my knee would be the final task in somebody’s long day — not the coveted surgical spot. But once I learned that I could, in fact, have coffee in the morning, I was totally cheered up, fear and loathing passed, and I moved on to acceptance.

The day of the surgery was beautiful, sunny and I filled it with errands, mailing off my daughter’s Valentine’s package and making soup.

My friend Patti took me to the center (my husband Larry was in DC until 3 pm) and we chatted and laughed until I was ushered into the surgical waiting area.  Then the fear resurfaced big-time. I hated being in a hospital gown, hated getting an IV, and hated the idea that something was the matter with my body. (And yes, it did occur to me that I am going to be a very cranky old person.) I was swabbed, covered in warm blankets (nice touch!) and wheeled into the surgical room and remember nothing more until I popped out from under anesthesia and felt remarkably …good.

That night I took one pain pill, had some soup, crawled into the sofa nest I’d made for myself, and watched TV until midnight. The only real pain I felt was in my back because the dumb sofa was too soft. And the next morning, I was dying to get up and get around. Crutches really slowed me down. I couldn’t find a way to carry my water glass and hold my crutches; I had to ask for things; I was dependent and felt — lame.

Still Life with Betty — augh!!

Friday I went back to the doctor’s to get my stitches out and get off the crutches. My knee looked puffy but remarkably normal. My surgeon showed me the photo of my meniscus. The inside hadn’t been too bad — a tear we never saw was easily buffed out. The outside meniscus was a hot mess — like spaghetti instead of a round disc. She’d done what she could but isn’t sure if it’ll ever come back to full strength. I felt good that I wasn’t a total wimp and there really was something wrong with my knee, but felt bad that there was something that wrong with my knee. In fact, she said the inside meniscus was a 49-year old’s knee; the outside was a 69-year old’s. Ouch! That hurt!

I’m committed to being a model rehab patient and getting everything back, but I can’t do yoga or pilates for two months. I’ll be confined to non-lateral movements on the bike, flat treadmill and elliptical — three machines I pretty much loathe. But all things considered, it wasn’t bad. My knees are old but they’re not shot. Lucky me!

Up in smoke.

Last night, fifteen minutes before our Scholarship Dinner for 700 people was to begin here at Oglethorpe University , my husband (and OU’s president) called me at home to say: “There’s been an explosion. Don’t come.”

I threw on my clothes and drove over to campus.

On the way, all I could think of was that somebody — a hopeful scholarship student, or a parent, or one of our staff, or a current student — might be hurt. My heart was beating loudly in the hollow of my chest and I was thinking how strange it was to be so scared in the beautiful afternoon sun.

At the same time, knowing how arduously my husband, the board, and all the faculty and staff have worked to make this little college a success these past 7 years — I was also filled with dread that the long, hard struggle of pulling the school out of debt and into a positive, promising position might also go up in smoke. Would we be remembered as the people presiding over a disaster that marked the college with grief? How could everything change from celebration to catastrophe in the matter of a second?

The minute I turned into the driveway I saw the firetrucks with their whirling red lights, a host of yellow emergency trucks, and clusters of people… but nobody looked chaotic or grieved, so I felt a huge rush of relief. A guard told me that a propane tank outside the huge tent had exploded, sending a 75-foot fireball into the sky. Although all the serving staff were in the tent setting up, miraculously no one had been hurt although their shaken faces made me fight back tears and grab them in big hugs of assurance. Thinking of what might have happened had the tank exploded 4o minutes later when the tent was packed with hundreds of students and their families – well, that scenario was just too grim to imagine.

The dinner was cancelled. The kids and their parents were sent home with our best wishes and apologies — but they were in great spirits and appreciated the calm management and immediate communication that came from our staff. The rest of us took a few bottles of wine into the Admissions office, the chairman of the board and his wife brought in a half-dozen pizzas, and we all sat around in dazed and grateful shock and amazement.

I went to church this morning wanting to thank the universe for sparing us … but that assumes, of course, that the universe would have been punishing us had things turned out differently. And therein lies the shame and guilt when bad things happen. The truth is a terrible accident can happen to anyone, at any time, and often there is nobody to blame. But that reality is awfully terrifying to admit; we want our universe to make more sense than that and we want to feel as if our good intentions and conduct will spare us from tragedy.

Peace like a river.

Our closing hymn today was all about God protecting us — which I so want to and in fact, do believe — but does that mean, for all the people who do get hurt and suffer and perish, that He somehow failed to protect them? Or didn’t care about them? (And yes, Sandy Hook came to mind and pierced me with sorrow.)

I’m just so grateful today that I don’t have to grieve, and our campus doesn’t either. But I can’t make sense of it.

Turning off … and back on again.

I’ve been lazy lately. Seriously lazy.

I haven’t blogged in 21 days. Haven’t facebooked. Haven’t tweeted.  Have barely emailed.

It’s been heavenly.

In my down & off time, I took two trips: one with my whole family to San Miguel de Allende, a gorgeous colonial city 3 hours north of Mexico City. And one to Denver with my darling Lulu, to visit old friends and old haunts.

O beautiful for spacious skies…

I’ve also been reading a lot …Flight Behavior by Barbara Kingsolver, Dear Life by Alice Munro and Beyond the Beautiful Forevers by Katharine Boo (I’m giving them a B, A, and A+ respectively). And of course, I’m going to the movies obsessively (The Impossible & Zero Dark Thirty on Thursday, Silver Linings Playbook & Anna Karenina on Friday, Lincoln on Saturday, and Les Miserables today. There’s nothing I love more than going to a movie — or two — alone on a rainy afternoon!

Lincoln was the best film by far, but I was surprised at how much I liked Les Mis (don’t take your husband unless he really likes musicals – yeah, right). And I was surprised how little I was blown away by ZDT …where I expected a tornado it was like a lingering thundershower.

Silver Linings had the annoying tendency to make mental illness seem endearing and hilarious (oh, a real laugh riot) but the adorable tendency to make Philadelphia look fun, so it was almost a wash. And The Impossible made me cry a lot, knowing nobody would ever actually search for me that relentlessly (“Well, we’ve searched 30 minutes, guess it’s time to pack up and go back to Australia”).

But now that I’ve rested my blogging bones, I’m feeling it’s time to get back on the horse, as it were. (Eek! I’m just recovering from getting flung from a horse into a stone wall on a tequila and quarter-horse ranch in San Miguel de Allende  — and no, there was nary a drop of tequila involved, at least until after the accident).

Yes, I’ve got stories to tell and photos to show. And I miss y’all!

HAPPY MARTIN LUTHER KING JR. DAY!  “We can all be great, because we can all serve.“