Hey Ladies!

Lately its been a lot of thought about ladies. Friday night I went up to camp for a reunion of sorts, and Laura, Elena, Ali and I got into a conversation about the mysteries of women. Elena had attended (and marched in) the Women's March in DC this past Sunday, and was still riding high on the power, beauty and general awe that intelligent, assertive women exude, and this spirit set a tone for the night's conversation.
To add to those thoughts, Saturday I attended a bridal shower for my dear and wonderful Michelle, who is remarrying in June, having been widowed almost three years ago at the age of 31. The shower was almost 50 women, which means there were at least 2 or 3 moments of tears (I've noticed when more than 5 women are gathered who are closely connected, within an hour at least one of them will be crying) but they were all tears of immense joy. I was overwhelmed by those in attendance. Ruth S. made a surprise and celebritory appearance, having been sprung from the Oncology ward of Johns Hopkins just to show her support for Michelle. There were three generations of Sullivan children and Barb B. and her mother and son both had a place. Sisters, mothers, daughter-in-laws, neighbors, housemates and friends made up those attending and again I was struck by the mystery of these relationships. Afterward, Hatch and I met up with Jenny and a friend to see '13 Going on 30' (yes I saw it two prior, but I really loved it) and again I was struck by the power of assertive women. Arriving home I found 'Mona Lisa Smile' to be playing on satellite and watched about 3/4 of it.
In every one of these situations, the support that these women had from other women flat out floored me. Be it your peers (as in 'Mona'), your mother (as in '13'), your friends (as Michelle can attest) or 700,000 strangers, in each situation those who stopped to look saw an experience far greater than themselves, because of those who were around them. Let it be known that I am not male bashing by any means; I am woman praising.
Frankly, I love being a woman. I love being friends with women, and I love that thinking like a woman is something that not even women have been able to fully understand. I love that I can be assertive and outspoken and intelligent and societally to object to that is to be prehistoric and brute-ish. I love that the closest thing I've ever come to seeing something magical happen occured when sincere honesty, love and girlfriends ended up in the same place at the same time. I love that we are so diverse, but there are basic, almost unspoken threads of commonality. I am simply mystified by the creation of woman. I may be in with love men--a little too much at times, I'm afraid--but I simply and honestly love women. I do not think there is a thing in this world that a woman could not do, if she made up her mind to do it (short of biological processes) because I think there is little in the world that could ever withstand the made-up mind of a woman. Women are a force of nature--they are as unpredictable as a tornado, as wide-reaching as a hurricane, as spontanious as a tsunami, as hot as a forest fire and as moving as an earthquake.
And how proud and intimidated I am to identify myself with such demigoddesses.

Listen Up

So I have returned from my trip, no longer on the wear and tear, and relieved that the retracing went as smoothly as it did. A few weeks ago a friend of mine taught my YL Leadership a lesson about listening, and how asking questions and just listening can be one of the most powerful tools to have. Well I tried it this weekend--instead of talking my way into 'proving' I had changed, I simply shut up and listened intently to the people I care so much about. I have to say that it was a miracle how much active listening can do to alter a situation, or change another's mind. It's a tough thing to do, as it forces the spotlight off of myself and onto my friend. To do it consistantly would take self-confidance that I don't know if I possess, but I'd sure like to. Amazing what doors can open and what God can do when one just shuts up and listens.

Another note: Saw "13 Going on 30" today w/Amber and Kristine--I wonder, if I could sit down and talk to my 13-year-old self, what would we talk about? Am I where I thought I'd be? Am I the 'cool' person I imagined myself to be at this age? Would I embarass the crap out of myself? Would I disappoint my dreams? Would I be able to look back on that time and simply laugh?
I wonder how much of our actions today are dictated by events that happened long ago, continually trying to make up for rejections and lost opportunities and hurt feelings and being overly self-aware.

Retracing

Tomorrow I am taking a trip to see friends and relive rather fond memories.
I should be more excited than I am.
Why am I not estastic to see long-lost friends in places that I love?
And love them I do, I know I do!
Maybe I am not the same person as I was. Everybody changes over time, but I hope and pray that I am fundementally different than that person who experienced those memories firsthand. I do not want the same sense of humor; I want a cleaner one. I do not want to talk about hook-ups or breakups; I want to talk about real realtionships. I guess I've gotten used to being around people who see God as more than a curse word, and this trip has a great possibility of being the confluence of past and present.
It has an omnious taste and texture and I am a bit frightened as to its outcome.
Maybe it'll be fine; we will recollect, rehash, relive and reinterate our friendships.
Or maybe this will prove to be the line in the sand.
Overly dramatic I admit, but necessary?
Unrelated note, I was honored to get to be on the guest list as Stephanie Chapman (formerly Schlosser) and hubby Nathan opened for Don Williams at the Birchmere. What a sense of enormous pride to see my friend and guitar buddy up on stage, singing to hundreds of people! Go Steph! God bless that family, they have been nothing but wonderful to me.

Life Lives Again!

It is the day that spring woke up. Today I mowed the yard for the first time this season, and the smell of fresh cut grass awoke in me a long-dormant sense of promise and love and optimism and a general sense of completeness...that is far more senses than the mere olifactory stimulation should awaken, but awaken it did, and said enthusastically, "Yes! Life lives again!"
This emotive quality of spring also blooms memory--good and sweet and pure memory. I am taken back to August of 2000 when I had just moved into the dorm room I was to share with my best friend, Amy. Both of us were drunk on the most beautiful portions of life. This particular memory has us laying on Amy's bed with the windows and curtains wide open and the summer sun pouring in. We spoke of summer jobs and new friendships and then the conversation turned to love. Both of us were experiencing our first true loves, and the innocent naviete that invaribly exists within its seemingly boundless realms. I had Josh, she had Jay and they had us, mind, body and soul. We could see forever--we could go anywhere, do anything--we had a sense of invincibility from just talking about this strong and primal thing we were defining as love. Laying there with my dearest friend, open and honestly speaking from the overflowing of our 19-year-old hearts--it was so pure and innocent and perfect.
Today feels that way: though love fades and friendships flicker, though the most jaded of realities infests with age, it is possible again. All things are possible to she who believes, and today, I believe.

Ixnay on the abiesbay

I just finished housesitting for a couple with two six-month old kittens.
The experience has further instilled in me the knowledge that I, indeed, am not suitable to be a parent in any capacity.
I am ok with this.
I am beyond ok with this.
Nare I say I am delighted.
I am also ok with only owning dogs.
Big, non-yappy dogs but ones that don't drool.
Big, non-yappy dogs that are not puppies either.
See? I can't even handle puppies.
I wonder if I have a soul.
At least one that doesn't drool.