Cybill was THE model of teenage perfection in the 1970s, as visualized in Cover Girl ads in many issues of influential magazines, like this one.
I’m a pretty typical late Baby Boomer woman, I think. I grew up in an era (a really long one) where women were objectified constantly in the media (not that we’re entirely finished doing that) and where certain cultural definitions of beauty were foisted on young women at a most vulnerable time in life–high school.
Today is my birth year birthday. I was born in 1958, and today I turn 58 years old. I was only recently acquainted with this special birthday and decided it was a random reason to do a little thinking. (Apparently there’s also a “golden” birthday, which happens when your birthday falls on the day of your birth [i.e. if you were born on a Thursday, every birthday that falls on Thursday is golden.] I think. If you know it’s different, please comment!) But only the birth year birthday happens once in a lifetime. Continue reading
When I was a pre-teen, we moved out of the city to a rural acreage. We did this because my brother had died tragically at 19 in a car accident, and my mother couldn’t bear living in the house where he’d been raised. It was meant to be a fresh start for our family, and it was full of new adventures. The first thing that happened was that my sister and I got horses. The property housed a large dog kennel operation, which we inherited. It became the focus of our lives for the next seven years. Continue reading
Prep Time: 15 minutes (not counting berry-picking! 🙂 Cooking Time: 45 minutes Cooling Time: 10-15 minutes Time to table: 1 hour 15 minutes
Servings: 4 (I always double this at least, bake in separate pans and freeze the extra.)
Why me, Lord? Maybe you just received divorce papers. Or you broke your favorite cut glass serving bowl from your grandmother (not that I just did that), or were rejected when you asked for something. Whatever the disappointment, sometimes you just need to throw yourself a feelings feté.
So two weekends ago I had a rare gift: I got to spend two days in New York City, where I lived for a few years more than three decades ago. I had only gone back a couple of times after I moved away, and even that was still 20 years ago. A lot of living was packed into that short time.
...A riff on generalizing, brains and melting butter...
So this is a big topic for me. I’m probably going to write five posts on it…that’s how many different reasons I’ve come up with so far for why in God’s name we don’t ask for help when we need it. To ask for help is to make yourself vulnerable in a moment. To admit a lack of something, a chink in the armor of your otherwise amazing-ness, is like, well, it can be embarrassing. And scary. In this first post, I need to set this all up. Let’s talk a bit about predictive science, the brain, generalization and melting butter.
We clambered down in the dark, and I ripped the dress off (as carefully as one could in a super-hurry). We now had maybe 10 minutes. I’d instructed the guys to start the second set with an instrumental if I wasn’t back by the start time; that would give us an additional four minutes if needed. The swing dancer crowd had arrived, so they’d be super-cool with that. Continue reading
I didn’t know it at the time, but today would be the last time I wore the dress. It had been pouring rain all day, but miraculously it stopped and the sun came out just before our Jazz Festival show. Puddles were everywhere, but the sun sparkled in them all, casting flirty jewels of light all around the outdoor venue. Held in an outdoor garden center with statuary, fountains and trees full of fairy lights, the scene was set for a magical early evening performance. Continue reading