snowflakes, snow days and winter is coming

Somedays can be so hard…like today. Chronic pain, persistent anger that simmers at a low boil and long awaited and prayed-for winter storms take their toll…and today it was just that.

Expressing frustrations socially can help except in this time of political incorrectness; which is basically code for a hall pass for bullying anyone who doesn’t agree with you. Still today was a day where I spoke my mind, because I have a mind dammit and as long as it is my social space and the First Amendment remains, I’m going to express myself. It feels good. It’s even better to bask in the warmth of the like-minded in my own circle. In church we used to refer to it as encouragement. Of course, not everyone I know thinks like me. That’s okay. Most can just agree to disagree because it’s the mature thing to do. Others just walk away, mute, unfollow, scroll past or just ignore – equally mature. I respect these choices. I honor them. I give thanks for each and everyone in my circles who do this. You all are amazing! Mad love and respect for you all because we regularly exchange ideas and challenge one another.

It’s all fine until that one person you know stops by to troll. YES, troll! We all know that one person…or two or maybe more. The ones who have nothing to say when you get that promotion at work, or your kid does something great, or when you wreck your car, or when you are lonely or afraid. But express an opinion that differs from theirs and THEY ARE THERE!

Hey there trolls. How the hell are you? Let’s talk. Engage. Trade ideas. Brag about our kids and grandkids.

Trolls respond as trolls do with shrill screeching, yelling and name-calling.

I’m a snowflake?

Okay fine, I am a snowflake.

You think that will hurt me? Oh bitch please. I have been called much worse…in fact one of you actually was one of those who called me much worse back in the day. I forgave you then. You were just a punky kid then. Today you are an adult, an adult armed with the idea that this Republican administration gives you a pass to insult and name call anyone who does not agree with your opinions, your beliefs, your politics or the Administration that you voted for. Now who is the snowflake, really?

But go ahead, if it makes you feel better about yourself, your opinions, your politics, call me a snowflake.

I’m a snowflake…one tiny snowflake alone, so delicate, so fragile, so ethereal. No wonder you feel so brave with your trolling. And yet, let a billion of them come together through the majestic force of nature, they can screw up a whole city…highways, airports, businesses and schools.

Winter is coming my friends.

So is a snow day.

Get ready.

somewhere between

Today’s distraction from the destruction of America is midlife crises, aching joints, chronic pain, osteoarthritis, old lady problems, Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition and braids.

Really! These are the bright, shiny objects that I might allow myself to focus on rather than Senate Republicans show how easily that they can be bought by a newly minted Education Secretary who has no fucking clue; and how easily offended they can be upon hearing the words of the late Coretta Scott King. Poor little snowflakes!

Arguably, these might be issues in today’s news that deserve my time, my energy, my focus…and they have had that until…

Um, over 55? This? Well, okay, yes, this IS over 55 but come on, The Times UK! I will be 55 next month. Sure, I am struggling lately with osteoarthritis and chronic pain that makes me hate life; especially when I need to get something out from those cupboards under the counter or the kitchen sink or just get through a typical day. But I can still rock the pigtails here.

Instagram Likes tell me so.

And just as I settle in imagining that I remain forever young in spite of media’s perception of what 55 and over looks like and whether or not pigtails are appropriate for women of a certain age  or the fact that I literally can not crouch down or run or walk any distance…

there is Christie Brinkley. SIXTY THREE YEAR OLD Christie Brinkley in a bikini in Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition.

Damn!

 

it’s beautiful, we’re beautiful

Did you see the big game? You know that there was a game, right? Alexander Hamilpup proved to be quite the MVP. Yeah, Brady also finally joined the big game with the Patriots in the 4th quarter and upset the Falcons. That was definitely NOT the outcome we wanted to see under The Big Top. But my son-in-law won $5 accurately predicting when Brady would get sacked in the game. Most of our family circus was together under The Big Top. Together we all ate way too much finger foods, watched the Puppy Bowl XI, Super Bowl LI, the original Schuyler Sisters celebrating America, brotherhood and sisterhood, Lady Gaga’s amazing halftime performance that was patriotic enough to make the Trumpkins happy with a healthy dose of protest in there too…“liberty and justice FOR ALL..No matter gay, straight, or bi, Lesbian, transgendered life…and enjoyed all of the silly and the sublime that were the Super Bowl ads. Some argued that the ads were disrespectful and trolling the 45th president, known as Lord Dampnut here under The Big Top; but they were actually the sane and good things about America that makes us great…which might seem like trolling when one considers what the actual fuck has happened in the last two weeks in America. But this is where we are in Lord Dampnut’s America – and commercials that celebrate American values are an insult to him and the office.

Yeah.

Like the opening song and the halftime show, what I saw was a celebration of the diversity, the drive, the can-do spirit that made America great before an angry man with the worst comb-over ever and his even angrier people declared it to not be so.

Coca Cola’s It’s Beautiful ad actually first aired during the Summer Games broadcast but it was still relative as it was one of the first ads to play during the big game. More followed as did all the ugly, angry comments all over social media. Honestly, people were more angry over these spots than the fact that it took more than 3 quarters before the Patriots and Brady finally started playing like it was a big game.

Hate all you want, but pretty much all of us came from somewhere before we arrived here. Thanks to my father in law’s hobby, I know that my darling husband’s ancestors came here from England, Scotland and Ireland mostly before the Revolutionary War. My ancestry hails too from England as well as Germany, France, Switzerland and Scandinavia. Pretty much all of us come from immigrants fleeing religious persecution, famine, ethnic cleansing, poverty to seek something better. Some of us also came here against our will in chains. Like Budweiser’s Born the Hard Way ad, our people were likely greeted with a mix of open arms and outright hate, as it seems today. All of us, literally all of us, unless we are 100% Native American, came from somewhere else and, it’s beautiful. We are beautiful. America is beautiful.

And, were it not for an immigrant coming to America in THIS century looking for something better, my youngest child, my favorite son, would not be here right now calling me “Mom”.

THAT is truly beautiful!

dress like a woman, a how-to guide

President Donald Trump is known to be very critical of one’s physical appearances, and he has apparently taken that trait with him into the White House. In a new report released Thursday, Trump said male staffers should wear ties and women must “dress like women”.

So dress like women….hmmm…how does one dress like women?

Step 1: Be a woman.

Step 2: Put on any article of clothing.

CONGRATULATIONS!

You are now dressed like a woman.

It’s just that easy.

 

 

the promise of making it after all

Under The Big Top and in the mom-car the last few days an old song was heard which prompted a few questions from my darling son who could not possibly understand the impact a 70’s sitcom with a upbeat, simple theme song could have

How could he?

But for his mama this show did leave it’s mark. Oh to have that perfect shoulder length flip, drive that mustang and have that apartment — of course there would be a giant L on the wall. When that show first aired in 1970, and through the next seven years, it opened the eyes and sparked the imaginations of many young girls and women probably more than the actual leaders of the Women’s Liberation Movement whom we might have seen on the CBS Evening News with good old Walter Cronkite.

Who?!

Never mind, son.

Here was a beautiful, single woman who was a career girl and not a career girl in the acceptable career girl type of jobs. She drove a cool car, lived in an even cooler apartment, always fashionably dressed and, while she certainly had her fair share of love and infatuations, she didn’t seem to need a man in her life to take care of her. At least that was how I saw it then and recall it now.

Daniel still doesn’t see the point.

He couldn’t. He’s a boy. He’s a boy born in this century where it is a given that women in his life do have choices — not just that choice — girls and young women now can imagine being almost anything when they grow up…wives…mommies…teachers…nurses…artists…business owners…scientists…politicians…almost anything with hard work, education and opportunity. When I was a girl, the sky was so much more limited. As a young girl, what could be more aspirational than your own sofa bed and bubble bath, with girlfriends popping in and out, boasting hilarious problems and even funnier bell-bottoms? When I was a young girl, going to college and getting a good job was expected, but it was a means to an end — to fall in love, to marry, to have babies, to take care of the babies and the home. The Mary Tyler Moore Show showed that there was more out there. Yes, I grew up and followed a traditional female career path, I did marry and did have a few babies too. But I continued to work in my chosen field. I raised my daughters to know that wherever their talents, education, hard work and a little luck takes them it is possible for them to make it, after all.

Maybe one of them can also master the iconic beret toss. I never could.