was a woman named Jeni, a left brain geek with a little right brain time traveler from Haight-Ashbury circa nineteen hundred and sixty seven thrown into the mix. She, more than Gloria Steinem or Betty Friedan, taught me about smart women in a man's world, and it is, still, a man's world, baby. Jeni was so influential in my formation of my feminine-ist notions about myself that I had to go look up why those other two broads were in my own list. I'd hang my head in shame, but I'm afraid I'd fall asleep.
Gloria Steinem: A liberated woman is one who has sex before marriage and a job after.
cookedheads: I thought a liberated woman did what she wanted to do. I want not to have to have a job.
Betty Friedan: Aging is not lost youth but a new stage of opportunity and strength.
cookedheads: phhtt...aging is reading glasses, ma'am and backing up to get a running start.
Jeni the Boss: The universe will teach you a lesson until you get it but the politeness begins to fade.
cookedheads: okay, so that's less about being a woman than it is about being a human, but that doesn't make it any less valid as an axiom
Work is never ending at the moment and there have been a few domestic fracusses, fracaii? to muddle the minty goodness of my life, but evidently, I was the last person to know it. It helps to have people tell you that you're starting to drift into the other lane and the head on traffic of a real problem. Noticing these things isn't my strong suit. I'm all about 36 hours of natural childbirth and taking contracts I probably shouldn't in the belief that I'll figure it all out as I go along, which I have, so far, knock on polyethylene terephathalate.
That approach to life is spectacular and quite flawed because it makes me as much of a meltdown mama as it does a take over the world, Pinkie. Fortunately, I have help from The Brain. Several of them in fact.
First my mother mails me a hand written letter telling me she's worried about me. Then my sister emails me to ask if I'm okay. Then my cousin in Australia asks me if I'm okay via Facebook. All very polite.
Then I looked down at my lunch to find I'd decided to revert back to Vanilla wafer and Nutella Therapy and realize things are starting to get very hostile.
It's at that point that my imaginary French friend booked a five day peace summit in "Camp Sonoma" for my husband and me. We leave day after tomorrow.
|Bric's Pink Croc,|
though a black trash bag would work too...