A Good Woman

I heard a song the other day while I was at the store. A country song. You know, you're just going along, minding your own business. Shopping. Relaxing. In no hurry. Then the lyrics intrude on your reverie. The words. Faintly heard. I've really no idea the name of the song. I only remember hearing something about a man who cheated and he has a woman who is good enough to give him another chance. Aw.. how sweet. He appreciates his woman. Hey wait a minute? What? You mean to tell me that letting a cheating asshole stay around is called being a good woman? And if you tell him to fuck off, then you're a bad woman? Well then give me the crimson letter and give me plenty, because I'm gonna sew them on each and every piece of clothing I have. I am a bad, bad woman!

Oh wait. Everyone already knew that.

Wisdom from M. Scott Peck

Life is difficult. This is a great truth, one of the greatest truths. It is a great truth because once we truly see this truth, we transcend it. Once we truly know that life is difficult--once we truly understand and accept it--then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters.

Speaking of Feeling Small...

Friday was an eventful day. I received a call around 11:30 that little mama was in labor. I started finishing up my errands so that I would be free for the weekend, then began my long and arduous climb up to Murrieta. Now, normally this drive takes about 35 minutes. That day, it took at least an hour and a half! I was not a happy grandma. By the time I arrived, I felt like I had literally CLIMBED there on my hands and knees. Of course, when I arrived, baby was already here! Yes, amazingly enough, there are people who go into the hospital at 11:00 a.m. and deliver by 3:30 p.m. And yes, she was a month early. Weighed in at four pounds, twelve ounces. Tiny, tiny dancer. Hmmm... wish I could post a picture!

Feeling Small

I think this is important. It's my feeling that when we are far away from God (whomever, or whatever, He or She is to us), we begin to feel larger. In a fake sense. I mean, the less we have God in mind, the more self-sufficient we feel. We may feel we're up to that. But when it really comes down to it, we know we make very poor gods. So when the crisis hits (small or large) we are definitely not up to it. The result is depression or anger or anxiety. I cannot possibly hold the weight of this world on my shoulders. I can't even hold the weight of one day on my shoulders. It's true, we get by with a little help from our friends. But they make poor gods, too. So here's the admonition of today, and this is why I love living near the beach.

Lee Ann Womack sings, "I Hope You Dance"

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat
But always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed
I hope you still feel small
When you stand beside the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances
But they're worth taking
Lovin' might be a mistake
But it's worth making
Don't let some hell bent heart
Leave you bitter
When you come close to selling out
Reconsider
Give the heavens above
More than just a passing glance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance

Angel

To be sure. I think television is the awfulest thing in the world. But of late, I've discovered this series called, "Angel." Yeah, it's about vampires. I never watched "Buffy." But this show is brilliant! And, as I told a friend recently, (you know who you are!) I don't usually use the terms TV and BRILLIANT in the same sentence.

When I was young, I watched soap operas. I was addicted enough to them that, at the age of 23, I was finding myself saying things like, "OH~ I have to go home and watch my show!" Yeah. So I nipped that in the fuckin bud! I can't be organizing my social life with REAL people around the FAKE ones.

But a few months ago, I was in a position to watch this show, almost against my will, every fucking morning. For two hours! And I became quite addicted. So I'm here to say that the show is brilliant! :)

Babies

A world without babies.
Hard to imagine. I can't really think of anything more terrible.

I saw a movie this weekend called, "Children of Men." The storyline followed a futuristic day when the entire earth had become infertile. The last time a child had been born was eighteen years ago. It wasn't set very far into the future. Just twenty years. It wasn't a great movie but the characters were well developed and interesting. I don't think it even came close enough to approaching how it really would be if there were no children. The intensity of that idea ran strong through the story, but still it felt like it was always viewed through a hazy glass. But it made me stop to think. Use my own brain and imagination to try to feel what it would be like if new life weren't constantly imminent.

Not being able to speak for others, I think I can safely say that in just about every hard time of my life, it has been the children who brought me comfort. Not always my own children, although quite often they remain the lights of my world. But even seeing a stranger with a baby or a child running down the street. I can't be expected to survive on this dark planet without that. And as the little ones have grown older, they still encourage me in so many ways. My sons and daughter, my granddaughter, my nieces and nephews, my friends' kids, the kids I take care of... the list goes on and on. It is my pleasure to remain involved in the lives of the young. It is the most healing and magical thing I've found.

The year my granddaughter was born, my niece, Graci, was in San Francisco going to culinary school. She was terribly homesick and was finally able to come visit when the baby was two months old. She'd never seen her. I'll never forget her face when she set eyes on that little creature. It was like looking at eternity's heart. All of her sorrow and joy came pouring out in uncontrollable tears. Just at the sight of that baby girl. The first grandchild in our family. The first sign that life that was going on. Graci was an adult now. And she felt all the force of creation in that moment. She's not forgotten that day, and I doubt she ever will.

Hell is for Children

Regarding the "Girls Gone Wild" videos. I have no argument against promoting consentual videos of scantily clad, age appropriate women. In fact, I kinda think the videos are probably cute-ish. I like naked women. I think they are very pretty. Naked men, not so much. But naked men can turn me on. Perhaps I should edit that to say, "naked man." And two videos for ten bucks! Can't beat that! I mean, I spend ten bucks just having lunch at Burger King (or BK Lounge, as Dane likes to call it). Ten bucks is easy to come by.

So let me say this. The other night, while my boyfriend and I were watching a serious crime drama (something like Law & Order), every single commercial break included at least three ads for the GGW videos. Three of the exact same advertisement! Sometimes consecutively! Even my boyfriend got sick of seeing them! We eventually had to switch the channel, without ever even finding out the end of the episode we were watching! Now that's serious.

So I discovered last night that I have developed a serious anxiety about the ads. I was watching Comedy Central and during one commercial break, in came that familiar grating voice, intruding on my peace of mind. I felt my heart begin to beat faster (in the yucky way) and a sudden urge to puke rose up in my throat. I thought, "Oh please God! Make it stop! Say it isn't going to be playing over and over and over during this show now!" (This was even a different channel and I was watching Jon Stewart's Daily Show which I did NOT want to miss a minute of!!!)

Fortunately (whew) it was just a regular ad, inserted as ads regularly are.

Postscript: All puns in this post were intended. *wink*

William Cowper

This is a man who has my heart. I am so compelled to love him that it never ceases to amaze me that I've never met him! (Indeed, how could I? He lived more than two hundred years ago and I've never even set foot on the continent on which he breathed!)

Here is just a little bit of the reason why he holds me so:

( Excerpt from http://marshall.thefreelibrary.com/English-Literature-For-Boys-And-Girls/73-1 )

Cowper loved animals tenderly and understood them in a wonderful manner. He tamed some hares and made them famous in his verse. And when he felt madness coming upon him he often found relief in his interest in these pets. One of his poems tells how Cowper scolded his spaniel Beau for killing a little baby bird "not because you were hungry," says the poet, "but out of naughtiness." Here is Beau's reply--

"Sir, when I flew to seize the bird
In spite of your command,
A louder voice than yours I heard,
And harder to withstand.

"You cried 'Forbear!;--but in my breast
A mightier cried 'Proceed!'--
'Twas nature, sir, whose strong behest
Impelled me to the deed.

"Yet much as nature I respect,
I ventured once to break
(As you perhaps may recollect)
Her precept for your sake;

"And when your linnet on a day,
Passing his prison door,
Had fluttered all his strength away
And panting pressed the floor,

"Well knowing him a sacred thing
Not destined to my tooth,
I only kissed his ruffled wing
And licked the feathers smooth.

"Let my obedience then excuse
My disobedience now,
Nor some reproof yourself refuse
From your aggrieved Bow-wow;

"If killing birds be such a crime
(Which I can hardly see),
What think you, sir, of killing Time
With verse addressed to me?"

Lamentations Stolen

Couldn't resist telling this on the mountain:

http://www.atheistalliance.org/aaw/Lamfather.htm

Raising Hell or Helen?

I've often said that being a mother feels like having a steel pole driven through your body and the only way it will kill you is if it's removed. Now it's true that there are many joys associated with parenthood. But there are just as many deep sorrows. If not just those experienced when you see your child suffer to the smallest degree. If we could, we would shield them from every potential pitfall. The unfortunate thing is that, in this day and age, you really can protect them from most every type of peril. Makes us wonder, why would we do this? Think it through. The people we admire the most in the world. They have been through some serious shit! And how did they become so admirable? Getting through that serious shit! I know we have good intentions in our attempts to keep our children unharmed. Of course we should protect them. Try to give them situations in which they can grow, in a controlled environment. But the adage is true that you begin letting go of your child from the moment they are born. The fact that you have to let them go from your body is the first step in the process. And every step after that is no easier than that first one.

Many believe in holding on tightly to their children until they leave the nest. Now this sort of letting go is much more painful than the ones that naturally occur in their time (remember, I'm including labor and childbirth in this category). And I believe it to be much more damaging to the child.

Honestly, the heartache of raising children can be so deeply melancholy, I very often tell people that motherhood is overrated. And being a grandmother is even worse. Now you have a child whose life you really have absolutely no control over. Anything can happen! Talk about letting go! When I chose the tattoo to represent the birth of my first grandchild, I was sifting through some maori tribal symbols. She is a real maori princess and I decided to just be presumptuous and believe that the tribal people would allow me the privilege of wearing one of their signs. I seriously considered using the symbol which meant "sorrow." But I decided on "hope."

So, now that my children are all grown, my thoughts often turn to wondering, "what will really become of them?" You see them go through bigger struggles every day. You see them overcome them. Others looking on might think, "Oh those kids are just going nowhere," but I know those kids. I know their hearts. I don't feel the need to worry about their welfare because I know them to have strong characters. I've discovered that they possess the qualities that are necessary for any little or big thing that they might need to deal with. And their bond provides the benefit of their being able to help one another when they are weak. These are the things that are of real value. They even help me from time to time! Now that is cool, when your kids encourage and uplift you when you're down. Yeah, they did it in a sense when they were even babies. Babies always put your feet back on the ground and remind you what's important. But now they give the gift of real generosity of spirit. So those are what I call successful adults.

Mi Madre

I don't think I let my mother know enough how much she means to me. I mean I think she knows. But I doubt she knows how deeply her love has impressed me.

She had her first child when she was twenty. By the time she was 23, she was giving birth to her third (me). I don't think she had that illusion about white picket fences and a house full of children in mind for her future. But there she was. She was taken away from home by a handsome young Air Force pilot. He understood her vulnerability. She would feel the need to call her mother often, and he never said a WORD about how much that was costing him. He was gone a lot. I grew up in the style of the military officer's family. There were cocktail parties. Beautiful cocktail dresses! Officer's Wives Club events. Lots of moving around. Mom and some of the other wives started up a singing group in Japan called, The Whymsingers. I loved watching them practice and perform. It was really a very full life. And mom never made us feel like we were any trouble. To me, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. I know there are jokes made in movies about the horror of having your mother or father come to school, but when I saw my mother come to my school, I was overjoyed. She was there to see me! I loved seeing her beautiful self in the middle of my school day!

Dad was in the middle of the Vietnam war. I knew nothing of war. I just knew he was gone. I am sure that my mother was under a great deal of stress. I don't remember ever seeing it affect her. No doubt, she would tell you a different story. She was very much affected. Especially when she found out she was pregnant with baby number four! All I'm saying is that she didn't thrust any of that burden upon us. I feel I was so well cared for by my mother that, on the rare occasion when she needed to find a sitter for us, I used to sit by the window watching all the cars go by, hoping it would be her coming home. My dad would send us little notes from time to time. I have a little valentine from him. I've no idea how long ago it was sent. It's just one of those little individual valentines you give out to your classroom and it's signed, "To my sweetheart #3." My mother always honored my father. I learned this from her. To me, as a little girl, he was often just a shadowy figure that would come darken the doorway in his flight suit. As time went on, I got to know him better. He would be the man who would drive the station wagon and take us on trips. I began to want to spend time with him and find out the things he knew.

So as I grew older, I saw the couple. I saw how protective they were of one another. I rarely saw my mother or my father angry, but if someone was disregarding either of them, the other would surely make a strong protest! She made sure the home was a haven for him and he made sure that she was always provided for. When I was in Junior High School, she got a job outside the home. I would walk from school to her office and just spend time there with her. She'd give me money to go next door to 7-11 so I could buy a snack and maybe a word puzzle book. I loved seeing how proficient she was as a secretary. In my life, I had many opportunities to go to work with her when I wasn't quite well enough to go to school, nor ill enough to stay home. I would help her file and just do all the things she did. I loved every inch of her being. When I was a teenager, mum would take my sisters and me along with her to blood drives as volunteers (she had started working for the red cross up at the base). Yeah, we got those guys' blood flowing as we strutted about in our little mini skirts! But mom and dad still painted that lovely portrait of a real and true couple. Dad retired from the Air Force, mom began working more. But still home was a warm haven and dad would do things like make sure mom's car had gas in it and that the snow was all scraped off of it and that it was warm for her drive to work. She'd get to work and call him to let him know she made it. Every morning. They still do that shit. It's just too cute. 'Course they're both retired now, but when they are apart, they know how to assure one another that all is well.

I took my childhood for granted. I honestly thought everyone in the world had the gentle experience I had. I knew there were SOME bad stories, but I thought they must have been mostly good. I've come to find out the opposite is true. My story is unusual. As are my parents.

Who is Bernard Goldberg

From Wikipedia:

Bernard Goldberg (born 1945) is a writer and television reporter. For nearly thirty years, he was with CBS; his reporting won multiple Emmy Awards.

In 1996, Goldberg wrote an op-ed column in the Wall Street Journal, accusing network news operations of harboring liberal bias. The editorial resulted in Goldberg's ostracism from CBS. In 2001, his first book Bias was published and became a number one New York Times bestseller. Goldberg followed Bias with two more national bestsellers—Arrogance: Rescuing America from the Media Elite and 100 People Who Are Screwing Up America.

Goldberg believes that there is a liberal bias which is often not conscious.

"I have many friends at CBS News and some even agree with my take on bias—privately. Publicly, they won't say a word, fearing repercussions."

I Got Nuthin ~ So read this by Bernard Goldberg from his book, "BIAS"

It's long and I'm having to fix some of the format, but I'll post what I have for now... even this much is worth the read.
Great day everyone!

Targeting Men

Putz.
It's one of those funny-sounding, completely inelegant Yiddish words that is
totally without charm but manages
to make its point.
Like schmuck.
For the uninitiated, putz, loosely translated, means jerk -as in "I went to
this fabulously trendy East Side restaurant and ordered the pesto pasta with
sun-dried tomatoes and the waiter brought me spaghetti and meatballs. What a
putz!"
For some reason this word is used a lot in Manhattan but almost never in Jackson
Hole, Wyoming. As for the literal translation of putz -don't ask. (Hint:
rhymes with Venus.)
The "wounding power of slurs" is something the New York Times and sensitive
network news types are always on the lookout for. Except when the slur is aimed
at the one group they consider fair game.
Men.
This brings us to Harry Smith, the former coanchor of CBS This Morning, as affable a feminist as you'll ever meet -and even in a business populated by so
many liberals, Harry is out there, way off in left field. It was the summer of
1995...
There was Harry interviewing the actor Dennis Quaid about a movie he had just
done, Something to Talk About. In the movie Quaid plays a sleazeball, a married
man who can't keep his hands off half the women in town.
To Harry this is how men act in real life too. Which prompted him to say to
Quaid, "I'm under the assumption that most men are putzes."
In Harry's mind this was a perfectly reasonable observation. Because to Harry
Smith, most men are putzes. I know this because I called him a few days later
and asked just what he had in mind.
"Men are the cheaters," Harry told me. "Men are the philanderers. We're the ones
who don't take care of our families."
The word putz was creeping into my mind... but it wasn't most men I was
thinking about.
"And white guys are running around the country complaining that they're
victims," he added, just to make sure I was getting his point.
I understand all that hut what I can't figure out is how you can spell "Harry
Smith" without using the letters pc.
But what if affable Harry Smith (who in 1999 left CBS News to host A&E's
Biography) in some other context had said, "I'm under the assumption that most
black people are putzes”? Or "most Irish are putzes"? Or "most Jews are putzes"?

Let's put it this way: if he had said any of those things, good ol' Harry would
have been out on his affable liberal ass in about the time it would have taken
his bosses to say, "Pack your stuff and get out, you putz!" Even then, Harry
would have been lucky to get a job doing the overnight news at a radio station
in Kodiak, Alaska, which is one of those places where they don't use the word
putz all that much.
"What if you said on the air," I asked Harry, "you know, I think most women are
putzes. Do you think management would have tolerated that?"
He couldn't stop laughing. What Harry meant is, "You've got to be kidding,
putzhead -they would have tossed me out the freakin' window"
Nobody at CBS News thought this putz episode was any big deal. Eric Ober, the
president of the news division, said it was a joke. No harm, no foul.
I'm sure he was right. And I'm sure he would have felt the same way if I had
gone on television and said, "You know, Ms. Steinem, I don't understand what you
and all your feminist friends are always com-plaining about. You women are such
putzes"
And it was a joke, too, when Katie Couric, on NBC, asked a bride who had been
jilted at the altar about a proper remedy: "Have you considered castration as
an option?"
Warren Farrell, a California psychologist and former board member of the New
York chapter of NOW, was exercising at his home near San Diego, watching the
Today show, the morning Katie made her castration joke. In his book, Women Can't
Hear What Men Don't Say, he wondered what would happen if Katie's cohost, Matt
Lauer, asked a jilted groom, "Have you considered the option of cutting off her breasts?"
Well, Farrell didn't really wonder what would happen. Like everybody else, he
knew. "NBC would be considering the option of cutting off his contract."
The difference between the two is obvious, isn't it? Castration is funny.
Cutting off breasts is not funny.

Holding Out for a Hero

I ran into a friend's son the other day in the bar side of a restaurant where I was picking up some take-out (the most amazing and addictive hot wings). He called me over just as he was ordering a pitcher of beer for himself and some friends he was expecting. The bartender asked how many glasses he wanted and he said, "um.... five" to which I added, "he wants six." He laughed and graciously poured me a beer. We chatted about personal current events. At one point he said, "Oh hey! I saw you the other night outside the movie theater. You were with a um...... a hero!" Yep. He was right. My guy is a hero. There's hardly another word to describe him. When I told him he'd been referred to as such, he said, "A hero? Why would he call me that?" See. What a hero-ish response. I really had no way of explaining it to him. He just looks like someone who rose up out of the ashes of some ancient Nordic battleground.

I've had the pleasure of waking up with this man at least 250 times now. Every single time, as I watch him get up out of bed, it still amazes me to see him proceed to put on just regular mortal clothing.

But it's not just his appearance (and humility about it) that makes him a hero. He's genuine and true and full of integrity. It's his birthday this weekend. I'm glad he was born.

Cosmo Quizzes

Why do we take them? Are we trying to know ourselves via a women's magazine? And does it work? I'd love to hear from y'all on the subject.

Today, I received an email asking me to "click here" to find out whether or not I'm marriage material. I thought it would be fun to take the test and see how it lays that out. I quit on the third question. The first was regarding whether or not you think you are able to be monogamous. The second was asking what is most important to you in a relationship (great sex, similar life goals and um.... I don't remember the other choice). Now why was it that I couldn't choose both A and B? Anyway, question three was "Why do you want to get married?" Huh? *Teri smacks herself in the head* I don't want to get married! Why am I taking this stupid test? I already know I'm not marriage material!

How do I know I'm not marriage material? Well first of all, what's one of the main things that people say about marriage? Anyone? Anyone? Marriage is all about ________________ . (Hint: it starts with a "c" ~ I call it the C-Word) I have no interest in that word (and I'm fairly sure it has no interest in me, either!) My ex husband used it as a tool of manipulation. Many people do use it that way. I realize that the true meaning of the word is not a bad thing. It's the way people use it to get what they want that has made it the C-Word. Secondly, I think similar life goals is extremely important if you're going to become maritally institutionalized and the person does not exist who has similar goals to mine. Unfortunately, we often just feel we can persuade that other person to come around to our way of thinking (this is on both sides of the sexes) ~ thereby achieving common goals. OR, we present the person we think the other person wants, even though that is not who we are. I think that's called DECEPTION (the D-Word ~ shall we go through the whole alphabet? By the way, the F-Word is "fine!" ~ hehe).

Here's how I think the Marriage Material quiz should go:

1. Do you use the C-Word a lot?

2. Are you looking for someone to "complete" you?

If you answered YES to either of the above questions, then you are not ready. Hee hee.

Seriously, I was thinking this weekend. (Yes, AGAIN!) If people would stop looking to others to be their relief or their help ~ and by this I mean in the sense of needing someone to "call my own" or needing someone to help you accomplish your financial goals (this includes tax breaks, the general success of being a homeowner, etc) or needing someone to help you raise the babies ~ we'd have many more happy relationships. Think of how often you hear the plaintive cry, "Why aren't you THERE for me?!!"

I'm here to tell you that marriage is not a solution to any of those things. As a married person, you can be more lonely and more financially destitute and more alone in your struggles than anyone in the world. I'm hard pressed to really know any good reasons to get married, but I sure know that those aren't them.


"If you want to exchange the admiration of many for the criticism of one, then go ahead and get married." ~ Kate Hepburn