Years ago (probably even a decade ago), my husband made the horrible, dastardly mistake of eating the rest of an orange cream cupcake which our daughter had left in the refrigerator. The outcome of that act wasn’t pretty. (hysterical, hormonal preteen women are almost as lethal as hysterical, hormonal menopausal women – and I’m allowed to say this because I have been both) I don’t think that my daughter has ever completely forgiven my husband for that act. This whole ordeal was recently rehashed (yet, once again) because our local grocery store, Publix, had released a limited edition orange cream pop bar cake and yes, my husband and I devoured it within two days and bragged to the kids about it. I told my husband that I hope he had really enjoyed this delicacy because for our health’s sake, I can never purchase another one again. And then, over the weekend, I got an email from Club Publix celebrating my “half birthday” and offering up a free bar cake to commemorate this “big” event. Well, as the comedian Jim Gaffigan would say, “I don’t want to lose money on this deal.” I hope they haven’t run out of those orange cream cakes. My mouth is watering already.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:
686. Do you like scary movies? (Me, NO. Absolutely NO.)
Good morning, friends and readers! Happy Friday!!! Happy Favorite Things Friday!! On Fridays, I forget about delving deep, and instead, I list three favorite things, or songs, or websites, or whatevers, that have added some zest to my everyday life. I strongly encourage you to add your favorites to my Comments section. Isn’t life wonderful when we have a lot of wonderful things to experience and to enjoy and to celebrate?
Jeff Allen, comedian – I’ve been a little under the weather the last few days. (It’s nothing serious, don’t worry. I think that I’m just a little worn out from all of the atypical activity going on in my life, since about mid-April.) Anyway, I believe that laughter is the best medicine. So yesterday, I stayed in bed, and I watched comedians all day long. There are so many great comedians out there, but Jeff Allen makes me howl with laughter. He’s a clean comedian, and he is hysterical. (If you like to keep it clean with your comedy, check out any of the Dry Bar specials on YouTube.) If you need a big dose of laughter medicine, here’s a clip:
Evian Feed Your Mind Water – This is Evian water in a can! And yet the can is so sleek and elegant looking, you still know that you are drinking Evian. This mineral water is tasty, thirst quenching, zero calories and it is infused with both magnesium and zinc, which have been my go-to supplements since this whole COVID mess started. The Feed Your Mind collection features three different flavors of water. Splurge on this line of Evian. You won’t regret it.
Best Grilling Tip – I recently saw a clip on the internet about putting ice cubes in your burgers when you start grilling them, because it keeps the moisture all locked in and the meat is good and juicy, when it is ready to be eaten. It works! I even tried “the ice cube tip” on a tenderloin that I broiled in my oven and it still works!!! If you prefer not to break your teeth on your meat, get out your ice cube tray.
I hope that you have a lovely, enjoyable, awe-striking, yet comfortable and peaceful weekend, my friends!
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Driving my daughter to school this morning, Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World” came on and she and I sang it, at the top of our lungs. It felt so good. It felt so simple. It felt so right. I said to her, “I don’t know what to write about in my blog this morning, so I think that I’ll just write out the lyrics to this song.” She looked puzzled and said, “That’s it?” Like it was a cop-out. Because it kind of is.
It is a wonderful world, but it is also sometimes a painful world. It is a wonderful world, but it also sometimes a confusing world. It is a wonderful world, but it is often a complicated world and not as simple as we would like it to be.
I just binge-watched Amazon Prime’s Fleabag, both seasons, these last two days. There is a lot there to digest. The writing is superb. If you can take off your moralistic, judgment cap and get past some of the overt sexuality of the show (if you want to), there are parts of Fleabag that you will rewind and watch again and again, until the deeper meaning and feelings sink in, get under your skin and have you itching, yet fearful, to get to the source of wherever you have been touched. (there are also hilarious parts that will have you laughing until you cry, and they are fun to watch again and again, too)
There is one scene (spoiler alert) in Season 2, where Kristin Scott Thomas’ character Belinda is discussing her “Best Woman in Business” award. This is how she describes menopause:
“I’ve been longing to say this out loud. Women are born with pain built in. It’s our physical destiny – period pains, sore boobs, childbirth. We carry it within ourselves throughout our lives. Men don’t. They have to seek it out. They invent all these gods and demons so they can feel guilty about things, which is something we do very well on our own. And then they create wars so they can feel things and touch each other and when there aren’t any wars they can play rugby. We have it all going on in here, inside. We have pain on a cycle for years and years and years, and then just when you feel you are making peace with it all, what happens? The menopause comes. The fucking menopause comes and it is the most wonderful fucking thing in the world. Yes, your entire pelvic floor crumbles and you get fucking hot and no one cares, but then you’re free. No longer a slave, no longer a machine with parts. You’re just a person. In business.”
It’s a lot to be a woman. It’s wonderful. It’s also sometimes painful, confusing and complicated. When other women can put into words what the rest of us experience, I find that connection awe-striking and overwhelming. It’s one of my favorite experiences that I sometimes get with other women – that “thank you for understanding me and knowing me and feeling me, and hearing me, and making me feel less alone” in this wonderful, wonderful, world.
“And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.” – Louis Armstrong
“Come on! Buck up! Smiles! Charm! Off we go! We’ll be okay.” – Fleabag
Disclaimer: My male readers are going to hate this blog post. Dear husband, you still don’t get out of editing today.
My fifteen-year-old daughter had a dermatologist appointment earlier this week. We adore her dermatologist. He is a man, probably in his late fifties/early sixties, who wears bow ties and preppy horn-rimmed glasses. He has a fun, confident, funny, yet kind, bedside manner. Her dermatologist always puts everyone at ease and makes you actually look forward to the appointments. This is a special quality that many doctors do not share, in my experience.
My daughter has been having some acne breakouts, and so we have been in the process of elimination, trying to figure out what combination of medicines and creams will work best for her skin. Her doctor seems convinced that there is a hormonal connection to her breakouts and so they had a frank discussion about her periods. Now, I was in the room and so was a female nurse and I happily observed how confident, and straightforward the conversations about my daughter’s menstruation occurred between she and her dermatologist. I did not sense any level of uncomfortableness or embarrassment from my daughter nor any inappropriateness or creepiness from her doctor. It was a proud moment for me and I realized that perhaps I was the ridiculously immature one in the room, worrying or assuming that it would go any other way. I guess if I’m honest, I was the most likely Beavis or Butthead in the room, out of everyone in there, trying to stifle nervous giggling and red face. (It’s always fun to get a less than flattering “aha moment” about yourself – not.)
Anyway, my daughter’s new medicine has to be taken at a certain point in her cycle, so she whipped out her phone, and opened up an app that told her exactly when her next period was likely to start. She told me that the app is 99 percent accurate. She said that the app keeps a calendar of her moods, her physical symptoms and gives her helpful hints along the way. I was so impressed and I was also a little bit bummed that this app would no longer be apropos for me. So, this morning, I got the bright idea that there might be a magic phone app for menopausal women, which would give me an idea of “Red Alert” days when I might be more apt to want to rip someone’s head off or cry a river over watching, self-induced repeat viewings of Humane Society commercials. I expected that I would find something really good for one of my Favorite Things Friday blog posts.
So here are some of the “goodies” that popped up first, on my menopause app search:
Hormone Horoscope Lite
Menopauze (This one got the highest rating, but it was all in German)
The Hot Years
Easy Psychiatry
Female Forecaster for Men (I kid you, not)
A Walk Through Dementia
Migraine Buddy
So depressing! I’ve never clicked out of an app search, so fast in my life. I don’t know what I was expecting exactly, but that list wasn’t “it.”
So now, I’ve decided that I’m an old-fashioned kind of a gal. My paper calendar and journals, give me enough insight about myself. (and sometimes more than I want to know) Anyway, in today’s world, I sometimes think that there’s not enough mystery left in anything. That’s why TV shows like Stranger Things are so popular. We are craving the “unknown” so much, that the idea of disgusting things, with slimy teeth, from another dimension, popping out of our walls, is strangely appealing. I’ve decided that I’m going to keep the approach to my menopause experience, like it’s Stranger Things. You just don’t know what is going to pop out next, so you just take it as it comes. And dear husband, my paper diaries are suggesting that this could be a Red Alert Day, so don’t you dare download the “Female Forecaster for Men.”
I started reading a book about menopause. (I realize that I have just lost all of my male readers. I am surprised that I have any male readers, but my macho, cigar smoking, ex-soldier cousin tells me that he is a fan and has quotes from my blog to prove it.) This book that I started reading, is a new-agey kind of book, popular in yoga circles, but apparently it has a lot of good advice on herbal remedies during this stage in a woman’s life. And, I am all about natural remedies.
However, when I first started reading the book, I was more than a little off-put, when the beginning of the book starts telling me to embrace the start of my changing into a “crone.”
What?! Is this some kind of cruel joke?! How evil, at this vulnerable time of my life, at this emotionally volatile stage of my existence, to suggest that I am turning into a crone!!
Here are some definitions of “crone”, I found on-line:
crone/krōn/
an old woman who is thin and ugly.
Crone definition is – a cruel or ugly old woman.
Wikipedia starts out mean, but gets a little nicer, at the end:
“The crone is a character in folklore and fairy tales, an old woman. In some stories, she is disagreeable, malicious, or sinister in manner, often with magical or supernatural associations that can make her either helpful or obstructing. The Crone is also an archetypal figure, a Wise Woman.” Wikipedia
Having matured (obviously, I’m at beginning crone-stage), I didn’t burn the book or even throw it at anyone, or even away. (the herbs must be working) I read further. And then, it all started making more sense and then I did more research, and by the end of it all, I started to almost embrace the term, “crone”. (almost)
In ancient times, the cycles of life, were highly revered and honored. Women’s life cycles were divided into three parts: Maiden, Mother and Crone, creating the “Triple Goddess.” The Crone was often thought to be the wisest, most powerful stage in a woman’s life, and that was very threatening to the “powers that be.” Here is some background from goddess-guide.com:
“In today’s society where we worship youth and beauty, this aspect of the Goddess is the most frightening and misunderstood of the three, as she represents our destruction, decay and death. Traditional societies however, view death as part of a cycle. . . . . In her positive aspect she is often depicted as a Grandmother, a wise woman, or a midwife. The word Crone is derived from the old word for crown, suggesting the wisdom that emanates from the head like a halo. Her own child baring days are past; she is the wisdom keeper, seer and healer and midwife, whose knowledge is sought out to guide others during life’s hardships and transitions. . . . . Unfortunately in the Middle Ages the church feared these wise women and the esteem with which their communities held them. Many of them were killed during the Inquisition and the wise woman of old was relegated to the Wicked Witch and Hag Archetype of our fairy tales. This is a corruption of the original meanings of the word witch and hag which respectively derived from the word wit, denoting wisdom and hagio meaning holy. Today as more woman live longer and take more prominent roles within society the tide is starting to turn as they start to reclaim their power.”
Another source had this to say: “In the days of the matriarchy, and in some matrifocal cultures yet, a woman who has completed her menopausal metamorphosis initiates young men into the ways of love play most pleasing to women. She is honored as the teller of truth and the keeper of peace. She is the tradition keeper and the people’s link to the spirit world.” – Susun Weed
Like anything, how we see any subject, all falls to our own perspectives and viewpoints. I, admittedly, am always a seeker of the positive point of view. If I am headed into “crone-hood”, these definitions are what I think describes a crone the best:
“The Crone is the wise-woman who has crossed the developmental threshold that marks her “a woman unto herself.” The Crone dusts the red dirt of the world from her feet and begins her real soul-centric work. The Crone has grown wise and potent enough to chart an inward course that takes her to the center of the world where she finds her authentic self in total communion with Life. She is then able to bring those gifts back and offer them to those around her.” -TreeSisters
And I’ll end with this:
“The Crone is a symbol of inherent wisdom that comes from experience. She has lived through love, sorrow, hope, and fear, coming out of it all a wise and confident spirit. Through these experiences she has learned the secrets of life and death and of the mysteries beyond this world. She has tasted death itself and watched those she loved make the journey before her. It is through her mourning that she faces death, grows to understand it, and becomes the gatekeeper between worlds.
The wisdom of the Crone comes only after learning the lessons of non-judgment and compassion. Through these lessons the Crone becomes the balancing scales between light and dark and between life and death. She is selfless, yet she loves herself. She is kind, yet she knows when to be harsh. She is free, she is compassionate, and she is wise. Only the Crone can complete the journey to the Otherworld and birth the Child of Completion.
The Crone is full of power. Her body is no longer fertile, but her mind is sharp and able. She no longer bleeds, keeping her power within her and owning it without shame or fear.” – boundariesarebeautiful.com
I think that it is a cruel twist of fate, what Mother Nature did to us women. She made our biggest hormonal changes and fluctuations, occur simultaneously during two of our most emotionally challenging life stage changes – going to high school and during the emptying of our nests. And I wonder if Mother Nature laughs and clucks her tongue and shakes her head, at families like mine, who have women starting high school and going through empty nest syndrome at the same time. (all while being a little hormonally challenged) Mother Nature really does have high expectations of our sex.
Now, as a woman, I hate when my legitimate gripes get blamed on hormones. I’ve figured out lately, that it is not that my individual gripes are wrong and unjustified, it is just that sometimes I have a hard time keeping my response to the gripes at a proportional level. “You didn’t put your dishes into the dishwasher?!? PUT YOUR HEAD ON THE CHOPPING BLOCK NOW!!!!! AHHHH!!!”
My emotions are all over the map these days. I recently passed a local flooring store with a little sign out front that said, “Closing. Thanks for 50 great years!” I started sobbing. Now, I have never been in that particular little store and I am not in the market for flooring. The store always looked neat and cute from the outside and their mascot was a french bulldog. The flooring store owners were into Frenchies, before Frenchies became the “it” dog. I’m not sure exactly what I was sobbing about – nostalgia about a store I had never even been to nor had any plans to visit? Was I sad that I never got the chance to tell the owners that I recognized the fact that they “were Frenchie, when Frenchie wasn’t cool” and I admire that fact? Was I worried for the owners who probably sold their business for millions and were now free to travel the world? Goodness, who knows? I certainly don’t.
My daughter and I have had some interesting and challenging outbursts with each other. I was used to being the only really emotional person in my family. Now there are two of us. My husband needs a black and white striped shirt to go with his new position – referee. It is interesting to me, that all of our sons have moved out or are on the verge of moving out of our home, right at this critical time.
I have a sign in my kitchen that reads: “This too shall pass. Now would be good.” I’m kind of feeling that right now, Mother Nature. Could we move along with getting these hormones of mine (and my daughter’s while you are at it) all settled down? I think it would be best for all parties concerned. Truly. But of course, Mother Nature knows best.
“It’s like my hormones are partying and getting drunk, and I get stuck with the hangover. Daily.” – someecards
