Badassery

So with strong being on my mind it can’t have been accidental that I received a text message from the great and wonderful Ruthie. “Do you feel just a little bad ass with all your willpower?” 

It made me stop and think a minute. 

You know what? I do! 

That. Shifted my whooooole day. I felt like I could conquer all the things. 

I want to draw that. I want to draw the bad assert and will power. 

But woah what does it look like. 

A google image search “badass woman” brings back a slew of women in body suits with guns that go click click when you slide the thing up and down the barrel. Or whatever.

***added at 9:24 pm

A google doctionary search says a badass is a tough, uncompromising, or intimidating person. 

Oooh do I shy away from those? Do I see negative connotation? 

Tough? No. Tough is good.

Uncompromising. Sometimes compromise is necessary. In some cases one ought not yield. This was one of those times. 

Intimidating. Hmmmm. Truth can be intimidating. Hard experiences can be intimidating. Unknowns can be intimidating. Some might find a strong, educated, spoken (not always out or well) woman intimidating. Let me bring them in with my actions. With my love for others. With my good intent. With my hope. 

***returning to original broadcast. 

The hashtag on Instagram brings on a slew of beautiful women of all body types ready to take on the world. 

But why is badassery made iconic in a body? When I watch movies which women make me go yaaaaas and want to cheer. 

*end game spoiler 

That intentional scene from End Game with al the women? You know which one. 

When Molly Weasley tells Belatrix “Not my daughter...” and proceeds toward badassery. 

Minerva McGonagall. In all the things. 

The women of  Wakanda. 

Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Have you seen On the Basis of Sex?

Legally Blonde when Elle Woods says “What, like it’s hard?”

The breakthrough moments in Hidden Figures. 

Hmmmmmm this list is growing. Maybe I see feminine badassery more than I think. Maybe, it’s more important than I knew to name it. To call it out in other women so that they are also reminded that they have it. That it runs deep in their veins. 

Maybe badassery the notion of conquering. Triumphing. Getting to the top?

A trophy. A mountain?

But also with this notion of a force to be reckoned with.

Hell hath no fury....

Are flames the icon of a badass woman? Waves with their unyielding crash. 

Or the tree growing from the crack in a rock on the side of a cliff. Persistent. 

What to you is the icon of a badass woman?

What happened to my strong?

Let me start off with this, yellow popcorn tastes different from white popcorn. At this minute it tastes more....corn on the cob-y. I don’t know how I feel about this but I’m craving all the salt I can get and since I’ve been salt deficient quite a bit this year I’m going with it. 

Now...about strong. 

I have always viewed myself to be a relatively strong, relatively independent woman. I can do...and have done hard things. Which is not to say they need to be done on ones own but I’ve never been ?afraid? of them?  Or maybe I have but I see the past through rose colored glasses. 

Lately though, I’ve been wondering where that went. It’s a boggling cyclical inner dialogue. A round about of sorts. And I’m still looking for my exit. 

I started reading Rising Stong by Brene Brown. A gift from a dear friend who knew I’d need a good bucketfull of strong. 

Oi. Vulnerability. Yes. “The only path to more love, belonging and joy” with the downside of “stumble, fall, and get your ass kicked.”  Today I feel like I’m sitting on the ground after a fell on my face on the stairs fall. Not sure if I’m steady enough to get up. Not sure what I’m going to do when I do get up. I have so many options it’s paralyzing. I have enough experiences to feel strongly about what I want. Thought enough humility to know that what I want is rarely what I need. Except in the case of salt.

The theme of Rising Strong, as instroduced in the introduction is “Fall. Get up. Try again.” 

Oof. Okay. I’m hearing it. 

Through vulnerable experiences I have experienced a whole lotta big love. I think that’s why I like blogging. It’s a whole lotta out there...but it’s lead to some awesome relationships and has been a great Avenue for conversation starting. 

I try to write and share my experiences for several reasons. One reason is because it’s good to remember where I’ve been. Another is because it’s a way to invite other people to join my journey. Because sometimes I don’t know I need people until their kind words lift me on a hard day. Because sometimes someone might need to know that life is not “Facebook perfect.” Because sometimes someone might need to know that there is and can be good. 

There’s a conversation about failure in the book. When initially drafting I wanted to talk about experiencing a failed marriage. The thought of writing “when I failed at marriage” caused me to recoil. Is it my failure if my partner declined all wilingness and desire to solution seek? I pursued all solutions. It’s not MY failure. 

Except it was. I took a risk on commitment, parntership, and love. It failed. My venture failed. As Brene (were on a first name basis in my head) says “failing is painful. It fuels the ‘shouldas and couldas’ which means judgment and shame are often lying in wait.” 

While I’m happy to have loved and lost the wind has been knocked out of me. 

I still grieve the loss of a partner of many years. Where there was a person who got all your things, a person you enjoyed making dinner for, or helping out in odd ways there is now a void. 

I am anxious to fill that familiar void with a person. But really not just any person. My person. 

The person I can sit and chat with about all the things. The important things like Harry Potter, Pokémon, the semantics around the title Superhero, and compost worms. The person who enjoyed a good meal as much as I do. The person who smells so good I can’t stay away. Not cologne good and not that other people smell bad but like biochemistry come hither good. I can’t describe it but I know it when it’s there. 

Alas, I am struggling between feeling hurt and acting hurt, between feeling disappointed and acting disappointed. I want to approach pain and grief with the efficiency of meeting with a school counselor. Is this a two year plan? What is the procedure. Which classes should I take? What books will I need to read. As if accolades and achievements could somehow accelerate or abate this process. 

Brene talks about how “once we fall in the service of being brave we can never go back” and “this change often brings a deep sense of loss.” Do you ever read stuff and think “Thaaaaaat. Thaaaat is what I’m feeling. Daaaaang how’d they know?”

I’ve pondered what it could mean to go back. Back to places I’ve been. Where did I feel safe. Does that still exist? Most resoundedly no. Home where I grew up no longer exists as it did. Other places that felt comfortable before might have felt so through the context of my former partnership. The only way out is forward but in which direction? I feel paralyzed and yet I feel compelled to take action. The epitome of an internal conflict. 

Oddly it feels good to send all that out into the world. 

Yes, I realize it’s scattered, disorganized and unedited. Let me extend my appreciation for your understanding.

Snow Drama and the Story of How My Shoveling Game is Coming Apart

I didn’t know I could grow to have stronger dislike of snow. I have. Like possibly turn the the good guy villain feelings of dislike toward snow. My shoveling game has taken a turn for the worse. 

In the picture above: 

The red arrow is how far my neighbor shoveled to clear off the sidewalk I neglected. 

The green arrow is how far I got pushing snow out of the the way before I gave up for that session. 

The blue arrow is the snow I pushed out of the way and had not gotten off the driveway because I had not yet developed snow flinging skills. 

The yellow arrow points or the tire tracks from when I went to get a haircut after I got to the green arrow and quit. 

The black arrow points to where the icicles (I’ve never had icicles like this.) are dripping (and falling) onto my driveway. 

That night I gritted my teeth to clear it in an attempt to make roomate’s low car a possible entrance to the garage. 



Green arrow: How far down the driveway I got.  Almost to the street. 

Blue Arrow: Sidewalk clear. Ours and our wall sharing neighbor’s. 

Yellow arrow: Did not get all the way over onto my side of the driveway. I have a higher car. And all wheel drive. Thaaaaanks dad! :)

Red Arrow: Developed the ability to fling snow over the growing wall next to my drive way. As Trainer Natalie says: activate your core!!! I did. 

Prepare for dismay folks. Now. I’m about to share with you what my driveway looked like the following morning:

What. The. Heck. When I opened the door to let Rico out roomate A said she could hear me yell a great big “aaaaaaaaugh!” from upstairs. 

I offered to take her to her classes and you better believe we drove right. Over. That. Snow. 

As we were loading up in the garage I hollered at nice lady neighbor up the road “I’ll probably have the gumption to do this after school.” 

I made eye contact with the neighbor whose driveway and sidewalks were already clear. With my eyes I dared him to say something passive aggressive about my snow shoveling. You know the same look you give the misbehaving kid in an assembly from across the room that makes them peacefully and immediately drop what they’re doing. 

On the bright side...the sun came out that afternoon and I shoveled the snow that was still in the sun. :)

The Current State on Snow

It’s official. I’m done with winter. Let’s be honest, I was done with winter before it started. Snow CAN be lovely from inside a living room in a robe and pajamas. But really, this winter has too much snow. Not enough light getting through to my seasonally affected system. Not enough snow days. I have however, learned some things and developed some strategies. 

1.) The shovel makes a difference. 

The large grey shovel pictured below is excellent for essentially plowing snow off a sidewalk or driveway. I have learned that, as a short, muscle deficient individual, it is not excellent for lifting snow above a berm that has formed along said driveways and sidewalks. But. As my neighbor Tyler says enthusiastically “that thing can move snow!”

The red shovel is my neighbors. It’s relatively light and is a great snow pusher. You can tell the pushers because they don’t have a deep scoopy bucket. 

The clear shovel is a lifter. It’s light weight and has been excellent for shoveling pushed snow up and over berms to keep the snow piles from creeping onto our driveway. 

2.) Have neighbors who are the best. It’s fantastic to have the co-op we have going in that we sort of take turns clearing all the driveway and sidewalk. We leave all the shovels on the front porch so that whichever residents are shoveling can have access to the optimal shovel. 

 Having great neighbors  means you’re never shoveling as deep of snow, and you’ve already got all the gear on anyway. Also their adorable sister black labs come out and say hi every time. 

3.) Beware the plows, who, when clearing out streets so kindly block your driveway with snow and slush that promptly turns to solid. Ice. 

4.) When you grill, make venn diagrams in the snow with the hot lid. 

5.) Don’t forget to shovel a space for the canine. His body is small and legs are short.  He is best suited for summer. He is not well suited for snow. 

6.) Remember the days when this trail has no ice and fluttering green leaves. 

Anyway, this California transplant is using the happy lamp, has programmed light switches, is gym-ing mostly regularly, tanning, and avoiding driving. Rico is stir crazy. The kids are going nuts and the sickness is going around. I might be in survival mode. Pray for me. It’s snowing as I write. More snow predicted for tomorrow. 

But summers here are looooovely.  Sigh. 

Let’s Start a Conversation: Menstrual Cups

As trainer Natalie says: “We have these fantastic bodies and we have no idea how to use them.”

As I’ve been discovering this year, she’s absolutely right. So. Meet My New Series: Let’s Start a Conversation. 

Today we’re talking menstrual cups. 

I posted videos on my Instagram account (@MyThirdThings) sharing information I have and shared three different products: Diva Cup, Lena Cup, and Lunette. I was pleased and surprised by how many views I got, people learned something new, and great conversations were started. By request I have “highlighted” them on my Instagram feed.

Relevant comments I thought I’d share:

“I like the taco fold because the aggressive pop open let’s me know it’s in place.” -Tanya B.

“My cup experiences have left intense pressure on my bladder, Thinx underwear is a good alternative.” -Becca H. @Beccawith_the_goodhair (If anyone has good information regarding this I’d love to pass it on.)

“Love Lena! Wouldn’t use anything else!” -Devinne S. @mondaymorningmedia

“Tell everyone the discoloration is normal. It [the cup] can still be clean and discolored. I thought I was cleaning mine wrong.” -A

“Toxic shock syndrome is not exclusive to menstruation....”    (I’m not an expert but am learning more and gathering information. Men can get it too. Gauze in open wounds. It’s caused by bacteria with a long name.) -A&J

More resources:

Put A Cup In It- Quiz and Videos

Safiya Nygaard’s Diva Cup Experience on YouTube 

If you’re 18 or older, Oh Joy has an informational comic with useful diagrams sharing about using XO Flo Cup that I find informative.

Joy and Sadness

You all. My friends are great. You check in on me. You ask me how I’m doing. I’m so blessed by all of you. 

I love to tell you about the things I’m doing. The blessings in my life. New accomplishments or leaves in turning over. 

It’s interesting. I am in a good place. I’m being intentionally proactive in regards to my seasonal affective disorder. I’m making good foood choices (you know other than the frequent Ben and Jerry’s), I’m going to the gym and working with a trainer, I have a “solar” alarm clock and other lights that are programmed to support my daily schedule and activities, I open windows wide on sunny days and click on the happy lamp on grey days. I tan for heat and light therapy. I meet regularly with my counselor and touch bases with my doctor and take my prescribed medication.  

On some days though I’m particularly aware of the less friendly or hard feelings that lurk just around the corner, or just outside that realm of happy, happy positive vibes. It’s like in the show Legion. The guy with the glowing eyes. I’m aware of  how, if I’m not careful or proactive enough it might mean that I encounter the dark and hard. Maybe, I’m afraid of the hard feelings in the same way I’m afraid of the the creepy guy with glowing eyes. We seem to co-exist though, in a relatively peaceful manner. “You stay over there” I seem to tell it, “and I’ll stay over here.”

Though, I watched the movie Inside Out this last week. Spoiler alert. (And really, if you haven’t seen it yet, go watch it now.)  So, I’ve seen the movie many times, but this time I became hyper cognizant of the way Joy is pushing joy and happiness onto Riley. She tells Sadness to “stay over there” within the constrains of the circle drawn on the ground. I became aware of how empty that felt. I kept thinking about how that’s such a bad idea because those feelings are going to grow and become harder to deal with if she doesn’t pull them out now. 

Then, at the end when Joy realizes how important it is to let sadness drive, how when Sadness drives that’s how people know to help. I cried big, alligator, tears. 

I very much believe that the words, intentions and actions we put into the world are the seeds we put into the world to come to fruition. When I speak using positive language about myself and others, I will feel positive and therefore my experience will be positive.  How do we pursue a balance in this. A balance in speaking positivity, kindness, and joy while giving appropriate homage to sadness, anger, and fear?  

I suspect the process, like any worthwhile process, is one that will require a significant amount of ongoing, prayerful and meditative consideration. I look forward to the conversations I hope this initiates with all of you, my people, my tribe, my community. 

Mugged

I’ve found that as I’ve aged I’ve cultivated a fine sense of particularity that some people mistake for crazy.

The good news is, I’m not the only one who has this going on. This whole conversation was sparked because my sister is thinking about getting some mugs. (She’s currently using the teacups that go with the china she inherited. Which is a whole different story in and of itself.)

This got me thinking of my mugs. What I have, which ones I use, and why. 

From left to right:

Fiesta Dinnerware Tea Cup- I have them because they’re darling. They come in every color. Someday I might even have a tea party and we shall drink tea out of them poured from my Fiesta Dinnerware tea pot. Tea cups are too small for daily use because it’s not enough caffeine in a morning and there’s not enough room for a tea bags worth or water. 

Fiesta Bistro Late Mug- I purchased and returned this mug before committing to it. It’s 12 oz. I actually really like how the flare at the top fits into my hands. It’s for at home, chair sitting tea sipping. 

Starbucks Reusable Plastic Cup- Another 12 ouncer. For days you need a lid. Like at work. When you’d like to keep people from mouth breathing or sneeze spraying onto your beverage. It is to be used in the moments when you intend to drink the carried beverage promptly and or are counting on the warmth from the beverage to heat your hands. The one pictured is a favorite of mine from Valentine’s Day last year, and prompted lots of pontifications. The interest in this style of cup started because they only cost $2 and this sort of negates the fear of losing a fancy to go cup. Also I have many of them which delays the need to do dishes. :)

Fiesta Dinnerware Java Mug- comes in their traditional dining set. They’re not quite perfect for tea (only 8 oz I think) but would be good if you drink coffee. Here’s the thing, coffee drinkers and tea drinkers have different mug specifications. Coffee drinkers can constantly pour out of a warm pot, or give themselves a warm up. With tea you only got one shot, do not miss your chance, this opportunity comes once in a morning...

So these mugs live in my cabinet because if I’m hosting fall knit night I must have enough for everyone. And these look great. Or what if we’re doing something holiday-ish and hot chocolate is being consumed. I know. What are the odds. But they’re there, however slight. 

Last is my Tervis with a magnetic lid that comes entirely apart for optimal dishwasher cleaning. It was gifted to my by Bobby a couple years ago and is still going strong. It’s ALSO 12 ounces though this cup keeps things hot and so the liquid inside will not be drinkable for 30 minutes to an hour and will maintain drinkable temperature for about 3 hours. This is the cup that holds the second cup of tea on a teacher training day, or road trip day. This mug is labeled with my first name, last name and phone number to increase the odds of having it returned to me should I set it down and walk away. Don’t laugh it works 

Now that you’ve heard all that impeccable reasoning just TRY to find the crazy in that. Well. Maybe don’t. But seriously...don’t you have favorite mugs? Which ones are yours? And why?