Musings of a Mid Life Diva

Just Can’t Wait To Be Queen!

2010-01-06T18:11:00.000-08:00

“Trust yourself. Create the kind of self that you will be happy to live with all your life. Make the most of yourself by fanning the tiny, inner sparks of possibility into flames of achievement.” —Golda Meir

When I was a young girl, I wanted to be King. Now, before you laugh, listen to my plight. When I was a young girl, still in pigtails and knee socks—I would play the Castle Game with the kids in the neighborhood, the Lockwoods. We would choose our roles; but for some reason, I always ended up being Princess So and So and the Lockwood boy would always end up being the King.

Well, I became tired of always being Princess So and So. One day, I told the Lockwood boy that it was my turn to be King. The Lockwood boy had given me a withering look and announced all knowingly that I “could not be King”.

Well, why not? I had asked. Being the King seemed to be so much more fun, so much more important, so much more interesting. Why, if you were King, you give all of the orders, you decide the rules of the Castle Game. You controlled how the game was played. In essence, if you were King, you were the Boss. If someone did not play the Castle Game according to your rules—which seemed to change every second—then they were just not “allowed” to be a part of the game.

I was told that I HAD to be the Princess. I could not—COULD NOT—be the King because I was a GIRL. Moreover, the way he said “GUURRRRL” made me want to snatch his little paper crown from atop his curly brown head and rip it to shreds.

Fine, I said, then I want to be the Queen. Queens are important; Queens have power, right? Another exasperated look as if I just did not get it. You cannot be the Queen, I was informed. You have to be married to the King, and the King would still be the boss.
What? How ridiculous was that? I got mad. I went home. I did not play the Castle Game with the Lockwood boy anymore after that. I was just not content with being the Princess and I certainly was not going to be the Queen and let the King be the boss of me “just because”.

Eventually I grew up and I went out into the world. I became employed. I made connections and to my amazement, I found that in some circles, people were still playing the Castle Game—a different variation, perhaps, and more grown up. But it was still the same game and sadly, the game seemed to have the same basic rules.

I met a lot of people who basically told me that I could not be the King, no matter how much I knew, no matter how hard I worked. No matter how many degrees I had, I was still relegated to the role of “Princess”. Never to determine my own worth in the workplace, never to be King—or Queen for that matter.

Not only were women like me put into the Princess So and So role—here’s the rub—we were reduced to having to watch Prince So and So become King while we stood in the shadows, wondering when, if ever, we would get our turn.

In addition, we should have felt “lucky” that we were “chosen” to be Princesses in this Patriarchy. What? Who were they to determine my worth for me? I woke up. I decided then to never again allow someone else to assign my worth for me, to tell me what I was worth.

The year 2010 marks a new beginning for so many people, it means the same for me. I’ve decided that I am no longer content with letting someone else decide where I should fit. This represents a new way of being for me. I cannot pretend anymore to be satisfied with being Princess So and So when I know inside that I was born to be Queen—if only in my own Queendom.

It has to start within before it can be shared with others. No one can help us begin to feel better about ourselves. In this area, we have to do the hard work for OURSELVES. Sometimes we are afraid to take that first step for fear of failing or feeling that we have to “fix” ourselves first and only then can we move forward.

My perception of myself is essential to how I will be. So is yours. If we change the way we see ourselves, we will change our lives. We have to give to ourselves what we cannot get from others. We have to make our inner voice the loudest voice that we hear. I decided that I had something to say, that I was tired of being shushed - that is how This Midlife Thing Magazine was born.
You can do what needs to be done in your life, whether you FEEL like it or not. Where would you like to be? What is your purpose? What will you do to get there? When we have a strong sense of where we are going, we can stay directed and focused.

Sometimes we will feel powerful and unstoppable. At other times, we may feel like the cartoon character mushed on the yellow line of the median. We change the way we feel by changing the way we act. Act yourself into being powerful. Practice being powerful.

Learn not to beat yourself up. It takes work—hard work—to reclaim your worth. So what if people wonder who do you think you are. I cannot remain in denial of my worth just to ‘not make waves”. I am moving on to better things, growing through courage and reclaiming the greatness that my Soul holds within her.

Feeling good about ourselves and about what our purpose is on this earth IS vitally important to determining our worth for ourselves. This process is a never-ending journey toward actualizing our GREATNESS. We can and we will get there, one step at a time. Developing real self worth requires that we love ourselves as deeply, as completely and as unconditionally as we would love another. Worth is knowing and appreciating ourselves and rediscovering our loveliness and our beauty, not just outwardly, but the beauty of our Souls.

Today, I am Queen in my own life. I consciously acknowledge my worth daily. Not because someone else has agreed that I have worth or because someone has decided that I am worthy. I decide my worth and I will never again hide my gifts. Now, has anybody seen the Lockwood boy? I’ve got a word or two for him!

Until next time, rule wisely!

It's Here! This Midlife Thing Magazine

2009-12-03T19:41:00.000-08:00

Finally! The New Magazine is here! Check it out. Let me know what you think!

The Gospel According To Mick: You Can’t Always Get What You Want

2009-06-04T19:40:00.000-07:00

2009 – A year of promise, a glittering new jewel. I was going to leap into 2009 accomplishing, doing, being, complete A new year of optimism and hope, a reconnection to things and projects forgotten or pushed aside. I was going to go into this pristine New Year kicking some serious butt…if only I could get rid of this blasted cold that had been tormenting me since Christmas.

“I’m not getting sick,” I would explain to every one and any one who would listen. It’s the weather, it’s 20 degrees one day, 65 degrees by the weekend, it’s a wonder everyone didn’t have a cold.

On Inauguration Day – my self declared “Independence Day” - I sat with a girlfriend – the only one who bravely still went out to lunch with me after I’d snapped her head off the Friday before because my head was killing me - twinkling my toes during lunch, trying to make amends for my crabby behavior.

The day would have been perfect, if it had not been for the persistent headache that dragged on for first one day, then two, breaking miraculously on the third. The snap on my two-day constant headache brought good moods all around, little did I know that by 2:00 p.m. that same afternoon, I would not be able to shut my left eye and the corner of my mouth began to droop.

What was this? Was I having a stroke? Being the midlife diva that I always have been, I keyed my symptoms into WebMD the best as I could with my shaking hands. Stroke – was I trembling and shaking? No. Aside from being scared to death, I was not. Was there any confusion? No. I could walk, talk, and think. I checked my frozen expression repeatedly, finally calling my doctor who directed me to the emergency room.

Terrified, I left the office thinking, not thinking. How could this be happening? I couldn’t have a stroke; I had a son to get through college. It was only him and me and if there was no me, what would happen to him? Oh goodness, then I still had to pick him up from the college! He was stuck there without a car or phone and if I had a relative show up to pick him up – without warning – he would panic and expect the worst. I wanted to cry, but my frozen eye would make no tears.

Want a little attention? Walk into a busy emergency room with symptoms presenting themselves as a massive stroke. You get pushed to the front of the line pretty quickly. I had barely warmed my uncomfortable waiting room chair when I was whisked to the back.

“Can I bring you a wheelchair?” I was asked for the first time. And after even more offers of wheelchair rides, I was beginning to wonder if they charged mileage on those things or what? Is this their version of car rental? Exactly how was this going to show itemized on my soon to come medical bill? Two rides in wheelchair - $300. No. I decided to avoid the wheelchairs at all cost.

Can you walk? I was asked again and this time, I wondered if maybe I should not have been able to walk. I was fine, I reasoned, after all, I had just driven myself to the hospital, after picking up The Teenage Wonder from college and enduring the everlasting traffic jam. No, I was fine; I just could not feel my face.

I saw more areas of that hospital than I could have imagined. Again, another orderly asked if I needed a wheelchair as I hopped off the hard bed to follow him. My legs were fine; it was my head that was having the problem. That made him laugh.

A quick triage exam soon turned into a six-hour ordeal as my blood pressure spiked to an all time high – even for me - of 224/125. OK, maybe I was not OK. I was asked, “how are you feeling?” more times during the six hours that followed and honestly, I was beginning to wonder – am I OK? Maybe it was a stroke. What does a stroke feel like? Would I know if I was having a stroke? I have to admit, all of the concerned looks and whispered conversations were beginning to freak me out and admittedly did not a thing to lower my blood pressure.

I was whisked away again, this time to “lay quietly” in a room to allow my blood pressure a chance to return to normal. Great. I lay in the cold room, fully dressed on the sterile cot. There was music playing in the room, supposedly to relax me.

I lay with my eyes closed when I heard the crooning of Mick Jagger coming over the speaker:

“You can't always get what you want

You can't always get what you want

But if you try sometimes well you just might find

You get what you need

Oh baby, yeah, yeah!”

My eyes popped open and I looked around. What? Was this some kind of cosmic joke? This thing, the paralysis of my face, this was so not what I wanted! First of all, I wanted to get out of here.

Possible stroke – that was a sobering thought. What about all of the things that I had taken for granted that I might never get to do again? The things that never mattered so much before as they mattered now when I faced an uncertain reality that if I was indeed suffering a stroke, I might never get to do again.

Things like being walked by the dog. Riding my bicycle. Chasing Son from the kitchen as he devoured gobs of raw cookie dough. Looking at bugs with my six-year-old nephew. Being teased relentlessly by my nieces. Gabbing on the telephone for what seems like hours with my sisters. Looking for toads. Everyday stuff, things snuffed out by a stroke. These were the things that I wanted. Would I ever have them again?

The nurses finally allowed Son back into the ER cubicle with me, watching the two of us with puzzled expressions as I laughed as Son regaled me with stories from his short time out in the waiting room.

After spending a little quality time with the noisy CAT Scan machine, it was determined that my brain, thank God – was just fine, no clots, no tears, and no signs of damage. As the Teenage Wonder says, my squirrels were just fine.

The cute YOUNG doctor who could have been my son – had I started MUCH earlier – asked the all-important question – do you want to die? I had been prescribed medication for blood pressure that I took sometimes; there was always a reason why I didn’t take it. No excuse is a good one, I know, but there it is. His question got the Teenage Wonder’s attention.

“Nobody said anything about dying,” he had muttered, drawing his entire six foot six frame to attention.

No, it appeared that dying was not on either of our agendas.

No, it was not a stroke. I had dodged the bullet, giving the idea of having a massive stroke the stiff arm, accepting my diagnosis of Bell’s Palsy, the result of a virus from my never-ending cold, almost giddily. It was still scary but curable, survivable.

Along with the major lecture to always take care of my blood pressure, of which I had not been monitoring or medicating properly, numerous prescriptions were written, instructions ordered, follow-ups with my doctor demanded, I walked out of the hospital on my own, a happy woman, face still frozen but happy. I would get the chance to do the things that I wanted.

I wanted to skip out of the emergency room that evening and would have if it had not been for fear of breaking my neck, overloaded with a drug-induced euphoria. I had walked into that hospital, my face as solid as stone and had dodged the bullet. No, stroke but a diagnosis of Bell’s Palsy instead. I would recover. My memories remained mine and in tact. My mind, unscarred. My sense of humor dinged but on the mend. My relationships, my loves, my hopes and dreams –still attainable waiting for me to grab them with both hands and never let them go.

You don’t always get what you want. I needed something to get my attention. I may not get the whole cake, but I would savor this piece. I may not get the international readership that I craved, but I would rock this little part of my world and blog my heart out. I may never become a Poet Laureate, read for heads of state, or become a writer in residence for a university or anything like that but thank God, my hands still work, my brain is still strong and my wit is still sharp. No, you can’t always get what you want…

The Teenage Wonder stopped by my bedroom, my self-appointed nursemaid – with a glass of water for my meds. He grins at the black eye patch I have been relegated to wearing – albeit temporarily – when not working. I wave sheepishly in his direction.

“I’m still here,” I teased him. He gives me the water. “You’d better be.” He tapped me on my numbed forehead. “Matey.”

I pinched him on his way out. The Gospel According to Mick, you don’t always get what you want, but you do, if you’re lucky, get what you need.

Thanks Brother Mick for the insight.

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

2009-03-04T18:36:00.000-08:00

A young woman, beaten, crying, robbed of all that she had and all that she was, sat on the curb at the side of the road. She'd done things that she wasn't proud of simply to survive. She is unkempt, no one has cared about her for a long time and she faced her life alone, broken and destitute.

A pastor from the neighborhood church was walking down the same road. He saw her, she saw him. Dropping his eyes, he hurried past, he was already late for a meeting and didn't have time to stop. Somebody ought to do something, he thought. He passed on by.

A City Councilman, a respected leader in the community also saw the young woman. Tsking and shaking his head, he passed her by, another statistic, he thought. Something must be done. But he just didn't have time to help.
He saw her, she saw him. It's a shame, he'd thought. Somebody ought to do something. But he was already late and had no time to be bothered. He passed on by.

With her head bowed, tears burned the young woman's eyes, streaking down her dirty cheeks in muddy trails and she didn't bother to push them away this time. No one cared, no one ever did.

A beautiful woman, bedecked and bedazzled, her face shining like a glorious bronzed jewel, came by. She saw the young woman sitting on the curb, her knees drawn up into her chest, her face pressed against her dirty jeans, her hair a mess. She saw the young woman, the young woman saw her.

“My daughter, my sister,” the beautiful woman murmured, her voice like music as she knelt beside the young woman, raising her face, their eyes meeting. The beautiful woman not only stopped to see what she could do to help the young woman, but she cleaned and bound her injuries, taking her to a place she knew of nearby where she could recuperate, eat and regain her strength, leaving enough money to provide for any need she might have.

I remember as a child watching "Mr. Rogers Neighborhood" with my siblings, all six of us lined up in front of the black and white. I remember thinking how cool it would be to live in that neighborhood; oh how I wished that Mr. Rogers could be my neighbor. All of the things that he'd seen, all of the places he'd been and the people he'd met in his travels. Everyone he'd met was a friend; there were no strangers in his neighborhood.

In the Bible, there is a beautiful parable about a Good Samaritan who went out of his way to help a total stranger who had been beaten and left for dead. A religious leader of that time attempted to muddy the waters by asking for clarification - who was considered his neighbor?

Who is our neighbor? Total strangers, Sisters in Spirit and In Soul. Sisters beaten down in Spirit by society, sometimes even by each other. Sisters robbed of opportunities to better themselves. Left on the side of the road all but forgotten as Life rushes by.

Who is our neighbor? The one who shows mercy. Love your neighbor as you love yourself, Jesus Christ enjoined in the scriptures. We are the beautiful women who extend the hand to our Sisters, our daughters, and our friends. Offering Love and Life. Sharing joy and compassion. Listening patiently without judging or demanding our way. Respecting each other and ourselves. Building relationships and bridges for those who follow our lead. Living serenely and fearlessly.

Extending mercy. Do this and you will live, Jesus said. Do this and we all will live. Would you be mine? Could you be mine? You could be my neighbor.

Beautiful Christian Sister

2009-02-25T08:30:00.000-08:00

BEAUTIFUL CHRISTIAN SISTER
by Maya Angelou

'A woman's heart should be so hidden in Christ
that a man should have to seek Him first to find her.'

When I say.... 'I am a Christian' I'm not shouting 'I'm clean livin,'
I'm whispering 'I was lost, Now I'm found and forgiven.'

When I say.... 'I am a Christian' I don't speak of this with pride.
I'm confessing that I stumble and need Christ to be my guide.

When I say.... 'I am a Christian' I'm not trying to be strong.
I'm professing that I'm weak and need His strength to carry on.

When I say... 'I am a Christian' I'm not bragging of success.
I'm admitting I have failed and need God to clean my mess.

When I say.... 'I am a Christian' I'm not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible, but God believes I am worth it.

When I say.... 'I am a Christian' I still feel the sting of pain...
I have my share of heartaches, so I call upon His name.

When I say... 'I am a Christian' I'm not holier than thou,
I'm just a simple sinner Who received God's good grace, somehow!

Pretty is as Pretty does... but beautiful is just plain beautiful!

Who Are You Calling Turkey?

2008-11-26T12:56:00.000-08:00

This week I watched the television coverage of Alaska’s governor and one time vice presidential hopeful Sarah Palin pardoning one lucky turkey, rescuing the poor fowl from a certain fate of guest of honor at some Alaskan family’s Thanksgiving spread.

But I have to say, what had me captivated – if I can use the word loosely here – or perhaps I should say what kept me mesmerized was what was going on behind the scenes, or in this case, right behind the Governor.

Horrified, I watched as a number of not so fortunate turkeys received their walking papers. I know! I wanted to turn away, I wished that I could say that this footage would make me a vegetarian for life but hey, I like turkey as well as any other American.

Watching this spectacle on one channel after the other made me appreciate the process of the pardon even more, I guess. Made me think of a number of turkeys that perhaps I should extend the same goodwill to in the spirit of the holiday.

Forgiveness or pardoning another for doing you wrong is not the easiest thing for me, I wish I could take the high road and say that it was. I know as well as the next person that when someone does me wrong, I get mad and somebody has to pay.

In the Holy Bible, Jesus in his infinite wisdom said that we should forgive the wrongdoer seventy times seven times. Four hundred and ninety times? What? In this world, this becomes a tricky proposition, if the same person were to wrong me 490 times in a single day, I would be the first in line to give them a swift kick on the backside to encourage a “modification” of their behavior.

It’s not like I have the time to walk around with a little calculator saying, “alright, sister, you’re up to 489, one more and I’m kicking you to the curb!” Keeping track of all of it is just too much work, besides, I get so busy that I lose track and I would have to start all over again. Back to one, and who has time for that?

I know, I know, I hear you, I just don’t know about all of the turkeys that have wronged you. It was not your fault, you would not believe what they said to me, what she did to me, how she made me feel, she started it, and on and on and on.

Occasionally there will arise the scenario where the person who committed the dastardly deed does not know why you are upset with them. In fact, they are wondering what is wrong with you!

Demonstrate your strength. Enact your own set of pardons. Pardon the turkeys who have wronged you. Boss walks past you, all caught up in his own little world? Pardon the turkey. Coworker steals the idea that you have slaved over and presents it as her own? Pardon the turkey – if only for today.

Moody teenager walks around in a perpetual funk? Pardon the turkey. Other driver neglects to yield when you clearly have the right of way? Pardon the turkey. Mother-in-law complains that the stuffing is too dry, the corn is too salty and the rolls are too brown? Smile and pardon that turkey.

So, I am trying to learn how to forgive daily, true forgiveness brings healing and is a lot less maintenance. However, I have to keep in mind that when I pardon others, I am loving myself. I am letting go of the anger, the spite, and the pettiness that threatens to keep me small. And so will you.

So, pardon a turkey today, it will make you big and strong.

Beyond Pandora's Box, A Fable

2008-11-01T16:11:00.000-07:00

At first the lives of men in The Golden Kingdom were happier than they were now. Citizens were able to buy and sell, people prospered until the Old King began to make bad decisions, endangering the welfare and the way of life of the citizens of the Golden Kingdom.

And there arose unrest within the kingdom and the people began to murmur among themselves and organize themselves for change. The rule of the Old King was coming to an end and the citizens of the Golden Kingdom were eager for the end of his reign.

They could no longer accept the ways of the Old King. “We need a new leader,” the people decided. “For our Old King has lost his way. He has lost touch with the message of how we came to be the Golden Kingdom, revered throughout the known world.”

So, there came to pass a great contest to determine who would be the new King of the Golden Kingdom. Contestants came from near and far - the best and the brightest in the Kingdom, some strong, some mighty - to compete in the games.

Near the end of the final games, two strong Contenders for the title of King of The Golden Kingdom emerged - one young, strong and idealistic, full of new ideas of how the Golden Kingdom could grow and thrive, providing success and riches not only for the richest among the kingdom, but also for the poor and forgotten. He would restructure the kingdom so that its citizens had more, he would return the pride of citizenship in the Golden Kingdom.

The old Contender was much older, he had fought many battles alongside the Old King, he had experienced much and had gained much knowledge.

But the young Contender had the heart and the loyalty of the people. The old Contender tried to destroy the character of the young one with slanderous accusations and name calling to no avail. The young contender maintained the confidence of the citizens.

The two Contenders struggled bitterly, words became harsh, feelings were hurt, things were said and accusations were made that could not be taken back.

One day, the old Contender, growing weary of the fight, sat among his advisors. “What can I do?” he asked. “My young opponent has grown so strong, his followers so true to him and his cause. Where are his weaknesses? What can I do to gain an edge over my foe and thus win the title of King of the Golden Kingdom?”

His advisors murmured among themselves. They too had worked alongside the old Contender and the old King. They too had grown fat and comfortable and had prospered much under the old policies of the Golden Kingdom and saw no reason why this should change.

There had to be some way the turn the tide, they reasoned. Some way to win the favor of the citizens of the Golden Kingdom and return their loyalty to him and the old ways.

“I know what to do,” the old Contender decided. So he goes on a journey to a kingdom far to the north and there he finds a woman. She was beautiful, smart and industrious.

“Return with me to the Golden Kingdom,” the old Contender implored. “Help me win the hearts of the people and you shall have whatever it is that you desire.”

So, the woman returns with the Old Contender to The Golden Kingdom. With her she brings a large beautifully adorned jar.

“Citizens of the Golden Kingdom,” the old Contender announced. “Choose me and this beautiful lady agrees to become co-regent with me.”

The people were cheered for a while, invigorated with the prospect of the beautiful lady. Some began to follow him, to cheer for him during the great games.

Pleased, the old Contender asks of the beautiful lady what it is that she desires. “Bring my beautiful jar then leave me in peace.” she replies.

The Old Contender does as she asks. Once alone, the beautiful lady removes the lid of the jar.

“Come out,” she bids her companions. “Take what will be mine, my friends,” she encourages. Out of the depths of the jar comes Division, Provocation, Abuse, Hostility, Hate, Fear, Mistrust, Lies, Destruction and Prejudice. The beautiful lady released them into the world, to make mischief, to cause pain, to destroy and discourage and to cause strife.

But there remained one in the jar whom the woman hated. “You!” she screamed. “How did you get in there? Not you, you I do not want! There is no room for you in my new Kingdom!”

There was a great struggle and the unwelcome guest escaped, The woman, furious, slammed the lid back onto the now empty jar. It didn’t matter, she conceded. This unwanted one was one against many. The Golden Kingdom would be hers.

The one who got away - Hope - rested quietly outside the window. Pulling herself to her feet, she began her journey in the direction the others had gone.

The one true and lasting thing that came to man and remains to comfort him during times of distress, is the spirit of Hope.

I turned away from the computer to face him. “So, what do you think?” I asked. The Teenage Wonder also known as Son stood reading over my shoulder, his expression one of dejection as his eyes appeared shadowed by a strange sadness.

This year Son turned eighteen and will cast his vote for the first time for the leader of this country. He has taken his task seriously, he has watched every debate, he has listened attentively and when not understanding an issue, he has asked questions. He has searched out his own answers – this new generation of voters is not satisfied with the status quo and they are not willing to vote “the way of their fathers”. They want to know the issues and form their own opinions about them. Of this, I am very proud.

This year’s election brings to a head all of the ugliness that I have attempted to shield him from his whole life. The ugliness of a race that threatens to be more about race looms directly ahead like a specter, uncovering hatred thought long buried.

“Is it always this way?” he asked. I wished that I could tell him no, I wished that I could tell him that this was an anomaly, that campaigns are not usually so bitter, so harsh, so nasty. I wished I could tell him that the “grownups” who are asking that we allow them to run our country would abide by the same rules parents have taught their children: Play fair, no name-calling, if you do not have anything good to say, say nothing at all. Or to just be nice to each other. Make friends. Do not start fights. Do not lie or cheat.

I want to tell him that things will get better, that not all campaigns are this way, but I cannot, because I am not certain if this will be the end of the ugliness. Others are watching, the world is watching, future campaigns are developed on the success of previous campaigns. I do not have the heart to tell Son that it will probably get worse from here.

Later that weekend, Son and I both attended our first political rally – ever. I have to admit, it was exhilarating to listen to my candidate. During the rally, I stole a look at Son. Gone was the expression of doom and in its place – hope. Son stares with rapt attention, he claps his hands, he raises his arms in the air to chant “Yes We Can!’ And I smile.

Hope still walks among us, whispering to continue the fight. To stand strong and resolute. To brace ourselves against the hateful words that threaten to divide our country once again.

In spite of all of the ugliness that has been released during this campaign, hope still walks among us. Take hold of her. Hold her tight. Never let her go.

You Have The Right To Remain Silent, But Why Should You?

2008-10-10T10:15:00.000-07:00

Tis the season – to debate, that is. You cannot miss it; all of the signs are in the air, and on the lawns. It is here again, an election year. Airwaves filled with promises of “I will do” and accusations of “he didn’t do.” Hence, because of all of the televised haggling and finger pointing, I find myself spending more of my time during this season online – well, that’s my story and I am sticking to it.

Recently, I signed onto a new – at least to me – social networking site appropriately called Twitter. This site allows you to send and read the updates of others, or send “tweets” out to your “circle of friends”, to which you can add people to follow and others can follow you.

On this particular evening, the Twitter halls were reverberating with “tweets” about the Presidential Debate. Noticing more than a few tweets with whom I am familiar, I jumped headlong into the fast and furious debate. It is a free country, right? Everyone is free to agree or disagree…

As the televised debate progressed, although not as quickly as the debate on Twitter, I noticed out the corner of my eye, the number of my “followers” decreasing by one.

What? I was puzzled, maybe I had misread the number of followers I had previously. On the debate continued. Then I noticed it again. Again, one of my followers had fallen off. I was down by two!

What was going on? What did I say? Had I unknowingly offended one of my followers? Had I tweeted something untoward? Had I made some joke or offhand comment that could have been taken the wrong way? What happened?

No, little tweet; don’t go away! I’m sorry, I did not mean what I said, whatever it was that I said.

Wait a minute! I had to get a hold of myself. What was I doing? Apologizing for voicing my concerns, my thoughts, and my views? In the land of the free and the home of the brave, was I allowing myself to be penalized for speaking my piece? Was I willing to muzzle my voice for the sake of … who? Who were these people who had abandoned me the minute I dared to speak my mind?

You do have the right to remain silent, but why should you? Had this happened 10 or 20years ago, I would have handled the slight differently. This online rejection would have caused the younger diva in me to stew for weeks about the online snub. Now, at this stage, this stuff just rolls off my back. My sense of obligation to go along to get along has run its course.

This is a great big world as we forge new relationships online and have more exposure to others and their values. You will make some friends, you may make some enemies. This is the time in your life where you are unafraid to speak your mind. Fearless enough to say what it is that you want and confidant enough to say what you will no longer put up with or tolerate. No more going along to get along.

I am realizing that there will be times in this journey when my point of view, my way of thinking, doing or being may not be popular and may not line up with the status quo – how things used to be or how others thought they knew me to be.

And, yes, I may lose some “followers”. But the ones that remain – my true “tweets” will be the genuine, authentic items as will yours as you progress through Mid Life Divadom.

People who are true to you, accepting of you and your foibles, whether they agree or not. That is what it is all about at this stage - genuine, authentic relationships, not fair weather friends or followers who will stick with you as long as you behave, think, or act “as you should”. You will lose followers going your own way. So be it.

An interesting note though, on the same evening that I lost two followers, I gained fifteen. What does that say?

So Now You're Mad???

2008-10-03T10:46:00.000-07:00

“Oh, so now you’re mad?” I asked the Teenage Wonder also known as Son. I roll my eyes. Son is mad because I’ve laid down the law - again. Moodily he sulks over his morning cereal because I - the irritating, life ruining parental unit - have done yet another thing to supposedly ruin his youth. You name it, anything seems to do it these days.

Son and I have been on our own for fourteen years, and I am not saying that it’s been easy. Me, the single mom, am finding out everyday that raising a teenage son is not for the faint of heart. Son is not much of a conversationalist, the king of one word responses: yeah, no, and occasionally I don’t know. OK, well, that’s three words. Sometimes I feel that Son and I don’t have anything in common, that we are lurching our way through unchartered territory.

You know, I am beginning to have a sneaking suspicion that if more parents were privy to the fact that the teenage years would be so turbulent and raising said teenagers would be such a “joy”, there would be a much smaller human race population on the planet and hence by deduction, less global warming, but alas, that is another column.

But, back to my story, I have once again ruined Son’s life by refusing to let him have his way about one thing or another. Again. He prepares for school, giving me the silent treatment, dragging his backpack and his attitude behind him. I want to laugh, as I have seen this performance a time or two already before today’s episode, this little demonstration designed to “convince” me to change my mind.

I won’t.

You know, as I watch this little performance for what seems like the hundredth time, I am reminded of my own mother raising six moody teenagers of her own. As I raise my own moody teenager, I wonder how on earth the poor woman escaped with even a shred of sanity.

But something she said all of those years ago stuck in my mind. It’s funny the things you remember once you are raising a child of your own. My mother always said, “I’m your mother. I’m not your friend. I will love you, provide for you, take care of you. I will clothe and feed you. You don’t have to like me and you probably won’t. You don’t even have to fear me, but you probably should. But you will respect me.”

To be perfectly honest, I think I actually did fear her as well as respect her. Four feet eleven inches of parent seemed a lot bigger when it was hopping mad. Even now, when she gets going - and she still can - I am smart. I know what to do. Disengage and vacate the premises until the coast is clear.

You know, it all makes sense to me now as I navigate the Straits of Teenage Angst with Son. Sometimes I just cannot believe the things I’ve seen when Son and I go out to a mall or to one store or another and I witness how some teenagers speak to their parents.

No reverence. No respect. Parents too busy trying to earn their child’s “friendship” rather than earn their child’s respect. Daughters who tell their mothers to “shut up” because she “doesn’t have a clue” what she’s talking about. Or a son who mutters “bitch” when he’s out of his mother’s earshot.

When witnessing these interactions, Son looks at me and I look at him. Son shakes his head in disbelief. I do the same.

Son knows. He’s heard the speech a time or two. I am your mother, not your friend. You will respect me. Period. The end.

Fast forward to today. Son eventually gets over what it was that I’d done earlier that had ruined his life at that moment. Hours later, after a long day at school and he has returned home, Son calls just to check in. He’s in a good mood. Our morning rift is long forgotten and all is right in his world once again.

After all of the drama, the pouting, the sulking. I think that when it’s all said and done, once Son has left the teenage years behind and is maybe raising a “little darling” of his own, I think that Son and I will indeed be friends. He’ll finally understand the wisdom passed down to me from my mother and finally down to him.

And, I will have his respect. Not as a tyrant who would not let him have his way. But as a person. The same kind of respect that I give my mother, even to this day. And, I am happy to say that today, I can call her friend.

That’s worth it all in the end.

Got a story about your rocky trip through Teenhood? Share it with the rest of us! Visit our blog http://musingsofamidlifediva.blogspot.com. Join in the fray. Tell us what gives your life flavor. What makes you feel alive, want to stand up and dance. We want to hear it, your stories. Stop by to visit, stay awhile and dish!

Four Boyfriends

2008-09-25T11:28:00.000-07:00

This short story was sent to me by a friend, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

Four Boyfriends
Once upon a time there was a girl who had four boyfriends. She loved the fourth boyfriend the most and adorned him with rich robes and treated him to the finest of delicacies. She gave him nothing but the best.

She also loved the third boyfriend very much and was always showing him off to neighboring kingdoms. However, she feared that one day he would leave her for another.

She also loved her second boyfriend. He was her confidant and was always kind, considerate and patient with her. Whenever this girl faced a problem, she could confide in him, and he would help her get through the difficult times.

The girl's first boyfriend was a very loyal partner and had made great contributions in maintaining her wealth and kingdom. However, she did not love the first boyfriend Although he loved her deeply, she hardly took notice of him!

One day, the girl fell ill and she knew her time was short. She thought of her luxurious life and wondered, 'I now have four boyfriends with me, but when I die, will I be a alone.'

Thus, she asked the fourth boyfriend, 'I loved you the most, endowed you with the finest clothing and showered great care over you. Now that I'm dying, will you follow me and keep me company?

'No way!', replied the fourth boyfriend, and he walked away without another word. His answer cut like a sharp knife right into her heart. The sad girl then asked the third boyfriend, 'I loved you all my life. Now that I'm dying, will you follow me and keep me company?'

'No!', replied the third boyfriend. 'Life is too good! When you die, I'm going to marry someone else!'

Her heart sank and turned cold. She then asked the second boyfriend, 'I have always turned to you. For help and you've always been there for me. When I die, will you follow me and keep me company?'

'I'm sorry, I can't help you out this time!', replied the second boyfriend. 'At the very most, I can only walk with you to your grave.' His answer struck her like a bolt of lightning,and the girl was devastated.

Then a voice called out: 'I'll go with you. I'll follow you no matter where you go.' The girl looked up, and there was her first boyfriend. He was very skinny as he suffered from malnutrition and neglect. Greatly grieved, the girl said, 'I should have taken much better care of you when I had the chance!'

In truth, you have four boyfriends in your lives: Your fourth boyfriend is your body. No matter how much time and effort you lavish in making it look good, it will leave you when you die.

Your third boyfriend is your possessions, status and wealth.When you die, it will all go to others.

Your second boyfriend is your family and friends. No matter how much they have been there for you, the furthest they can stay by you is up to the grave.

And your first boyfriend is your spirit. Often neglected in pursuit of wealth, power and pleasures of the world. However, your spirit is the only thing that will follow you where ever You go.

Cultivate, strengthen and cherish it now, for it is the only part of you that will follow you to the throne of God and continue with you throughout Eternity.

Officer Down, Call For Back Up!

2008-09-19T17:01:00.000-07:00

The day began just like any other day. We had gathered at a nearby park to celebrate the leaving of the nest – of sorts – for my nephew. He had opted to go to college out of state, which of course required a huge family farewell to send one of our own fledglings out into the big world of “grown-ups”.

The weather was perfect. There was a cooling breeze blowing in off the lake. Children ran and played nearby in the lush grass. Jet skiers flitted around on the water’s glassy surface. The Teenage Wonder also known as Son was in a not-as-grumpy-as-usual mood and actually managed a smile from behind the dark sunglasses he always wore.

Perfect. Then the shots rang out.

I had been sitting among “the young ones”, enjoying some bonding time with my nieces and nephews. I gazed around in wonder at this group of newly minted teenagers, wondering where the time had gone. Where had these wonders come from, when had this happened, this transformation from child to teenager?

My glance fell on my niece as she spoke to me, her arm tucked under mine. Gone was the sweet little girl that I carried around on my hip who pulled my hair and in her place was a tall, svelte teenager with long dark hair and big brown eyes. Gone were the braces, away with the chubby preteen, here stood a lithesome swan, sure to cause my brother-in-law a lot of sleepless nights in the days to come.

I cannot remember exactly what we were talking about, how the conversation had evolved; I remember standing, talking, teasing, and laughing.

That was when I heard the first shot.

“Oh, Aunt T,” my niece, just barely sixteen years old soothed, her tone placating, her smooth pretty face crinkling as she smiled at me, her look almost sympathetic.

“I still have plenty of time…” she began.

Zip! The shot whizzed past my ear. I looked around vaguely. What was going on?

“I’m not worried about that, I will think about all of those kinds of things…”

Zoom! The missile grazed my temple, stinging me. I felt as if I should have ducked. Did anyone else see what was happening? Anybody?

“When I get to be your age.”

Bang! That shot hit me squarely in the chest, slamming into my heart. I whizzed around, the statement snapping me to attention. Shots fired! Officer down, requesting back up! I am under attack!

Hold up! Wait a minute! When did I become the “old lady” of the bunch? When did I become “that age”? Now, it is one thing for me to say that I feel old, but totally another thing to hear the words coming from the mouths of babes.

Who was she calling old? I don’t look old. I don’t feel old – most days. I still got “it”. I am still reasonably fit, definitely a lot smarter, and wiser than I used to be – at her age. I realize that at sixteen, you have a whole big world ahead of you. However, my dear niece, youth – highly overrated youth – is just too much work! As I watch this group of kids, jostling each other for position and attention, I am reminded why I am so very glad to have become “my age”.

I am so glad that I do not have to worry about what everybody else is wearing. Unless they are paying for my clothes, I really could care less. Who in the heck is “everybody else” anyway?

I am so very glad to not have to go through the whole high-school experience again, once on that ride is more than enough for anyone.

I am glad that things that once seemed so important to me then are just not that important anymore. A thing like some girl in fifth period was wearing the same shoes as mine. These things no longer rate a blip on my radar. The Teenage Wonder says that I am oblivious to what is going on around me. The truth is that frankly, my dear, I just do not care.

I am glad that I do not have the overwhelming need to go out and pierce or tattoo something.

I am glad that I can be sassy and outspoken and know that there is not a darn thing anybody can do about it. I am certainly past the age where I could be grounded for not watching my mouth, though I am sure some would like to try!

I am glad that I am no longer inflicted with the “I’m bored-itus” of youth. I am living a life blessed with rich friendships, family and the history thereof and an abundance of things to do and see that keep me stimulated. Each year gets better as will each decade. What I lack in muscle tone I more than make up for in mental aptitude.

I’m glad that I can say no and not have to feel guilty about it nor do I have to explain why I do not have to or want to. If I do not want to go, eat, do or be anything that I do not want to, it is perfectly all right. No is no.

I’m glad that I do not have to obsess anymore – you pick a topic, a teenager can obsess about it. Nope, all done with that.

I’m glad that not all of my childhood dreams came true. What in the world would I have done with a pony if I had become a racecar driving female astronaut pediatrician anyway?

I’m glad that I no longer suffer with the young person’s disease of “Need to Please”. Aging with less anxiety. Letting go of what didn’t happen. Grateful for having lived another year. No longer hiding the things that make me unique.

And I am so very glad to be living a happier and richer life precisely because I am no longer in my youth, knowing that these days are the good old days as I get my life’s satisfaction from focusing on the “real” important things - being a good friend, mother, sister, daughter and companion. Living fully engaged in my own life, having let go of what could have been in order to anticipate with joy and wonder what is to come.

I pulled myself together, dusting off my ego and stood as tall as my five foot four frame would allow. I smile at my niece.

Oh, you, young one. You have so much to learn; you of the bright eyes and dreams, you of the line free face and worry free days. I hugged my niece, patting her blissfully smooth young cheek. I am not saying that it has been easy and that there will not be some sticky passages that come up along the way as I continue my trek through Midlife Divadom.

I would not trade anything for my journey. I would not give all of the money in the world to go back to where she is headed. Old is still out there somewhere and I will get there when I get there, but not yet.

Not yet.

Got a comment about the column or just want to share some words wisdom with other Mid Life Divas? Share it with us! Visit our blog http://musingsofamidlifediva.blogspot.com.
Join the fray. Tell us what gives your life flavor. What makes you feel alive, want to stand up and dance. We want to hear it, your stories, and your ideas. Stop by to visit, stay awhile and dish!

Does Age Have A Sound?

2008-09-06T12:06:00.000-07:00

Recently I was reading an emailed interview with a Mid Life Diva for an upcoming issue of the Musings Ezine when I found myself confounded by a question that I’d never considered before.

Kim, Owner of Overall Beauty (http://overallbeauty.com) during what she called her “Gripe of the Month” posed the question and I have to admit, I had to stop and think about it.

During her “gripe”, Miss Kim, a thriving Mid Life Diva with two “nearly grown” sons in their twenties, states that when she is communicating with others via telephone, she is often asked her age and is met with expressions of disbelief when she answers the question truthfully.

Kim is a proud-to-be Mid Life Diva. She is often told that she “doesn’t sound old enough to ...”, or “you don’t sound old enough to have grown children...” Or this one is my favorite “are you sure?” What?

Miss Kim asked the question that really made me pause to think and is the question that I would like to pose to all of you, my Counsel of Mid Life Divas: as worded so eloquently by Miss Kim, does age have a sound?

Having reached Mid Life, still alive and kicking, Kim further inquired if mid life should sound as if your life has been “super hard” and if we, as Mid Life Divas should sound as if we’re “worn out, beaten down or something”? She further inquired if being proud of who we are at this time in our lives has a sound?

Having reached Mid Life, how are we expected to sound? As if we just can’t go on? As if we just can’t face another day, another task, another mountain?

That’s not us. At this stage in our journey, our voices should be the loudest and the most influential voice in our ears. The voice that tells us that we are great - as is. We are loved, as we are. We are strong and will make it, come what may.

So I guess my answer would be yes, Miss Kim, age does have a sound.
Age sounds like music, the song in our hearts and minds that makes us want to rejoice and say “Go Girl!”, or get up and boogie. And yes, it is acceptable to shake your tail feathers!
She sounds like the wind, soothing, quieting and calming. Free from fear and anxiety. That sounds like peace.

She sounds like wisdom, knowing what to do and when to do it, applying knowledge with common sense and insight. That sounds like experience.

She sounds like confidence, being sure that you know what you know. Not feeling it necessary to brag that you know. That sounds like security.

She sounds like patience, when the young divas are flitting about to and fro, in such a hurry to get where you are, you understand that she has much work to do. Although she is patient, she will not suffer fools lightly, nor will she suffer those who may want to mistreat her for their own gain. That sounds like power.

She sounds like love, for others and for yourself. You realize that family is who you choose to accompany you on this journey through life, not who you happen to share a gene pool with. It’s who you love and who loves you - for you, a gift given without compensation. That sounds like trust.

She sounds like strength, knowing that come what may, you can and you will make it. You will stand and you will conquer, as you have done countless times before and will do countless times again. You, Mid Life Diva, are more than a conqueror, you are a survivor, that sounds like victory.

She sounds like assurance, the quiet steel in your spine that holds you upright and true when everything around you seems to be crashing to the ground. That sounds like perseverance. And you will persevere.

She sounds like friendship, the ties that bind us as Mid Life Divas, partners during this journey. That sounds like a community in numbers that cannot be imagined. And together, our voices will reverberate like thunder.

And she sounds like life, accepting what you can’t change and changing what you can. And rejoicing and thriving in spite of it all. That sounds like a Mid Life Diva.

Kim also made a statement that will stick with me, and I hope that you will remember it too: when you have lots of joy in your life, you just sound younger. And I have to give it to Kim, you just sound wiser too.

Thanks, Kim for giving us all something to think about.

The Countdown to Robin's Big Day Is On!

2008-09-03T11:32:00.000-07:00

A very new associate of mine has a fun blogsite up and running called "Fiftydaystofifty", with the big day being September 30. Visit her blog, it's a lot of fun and prepare to help Robin celebrate the Big Day!

Go visit http://fiftydaystofifty.wordpress.com/. Tell her The Mid Life Diva sent you!

Musings Specs are available!

2008-09-03T09:08:00.001-07:00

Finally! A forum in which women can connect. Every woman has a story and now is your time to share it with other like you! The specs for the Musings Ezine are available, there is plenty of room for you! Email me at tlunnethomas@kc.rr.com if you would like to contribute. I will rush a Spec Sheet to you! Talk to you soon!

Everything I Know About Life I Learned From A Girl

2008-08-28T18:22:00.000-07:00

I sat cross-legged on the floor of my niece’s room, paying careful attention to her as she pointed out all of the new additions and changes she’d made in her bedroom. My niece’s bedroom – her haven away from the rest of the world – is “all diva”, her special place to be alone, so when she invited me in, I felt honored.

The little diva actually has a doorbell for her bedroom. I “oooh” and “aaah” over the beaded curtain at the entryway, the pink princess netting above her headboard complete with acrylic hand painted butterflies. The stenciled butterflies on her wall. Her mother, my sister’s, handiwork I have no doubt. My niece is truly a diva, not that it’s a bad thing!

While surveying her treasures, I picked up the small handbag that my niece was pointing out to me. “That’s new too,” she said, moving on to something else. Nestled on the front of the sparkly sequined handbag was a small plastic see-thru pocket, also trimmed with sequins.

“What’s this for?” I asked her. My niece shrugged, the action nonchalant. “That’s where you put pictures of your best friends.” She told me. Ah, I nodded. “So whose picture are you going to put in there?”

“Whatever!” My niece sniffed. “I am going to put a picture of myself in there. I’m my own best friend.”

Well, two snaps and a twist, I guess that she told me! But, I had to admit, after I picked my jaw and myself up off of the floor, I decided then that my niece had something to teach even a Mid Life Diva like myself.

You know, out of all of the years that I have lived and now that I have begun this new journey through Mid Life Divadom, I find that I had a lot to learn about being my own best friend. Don’t get me wrong. I know the drill; I say nice things to myself most days. I take care of my health. I treat myself to alone time as often as possible, but I found that I had a lot more to learn about being my own best friend. I had to learn that I needed to be kinder to myself. To baby “my baby” - me.

Most days we are more polite, more considerate, and more forgiving to a perfect stranger than we are to ourselves. We smile at the cute guy at the corner coffee stand every morning but barely acknowledge our own reflection each morning with a grunt and a frown.

So, I am learning to baby my baby. Nurture myself, smile at myself. Congratulate myself on a job well done. Or encourage myself should I fall short, telling myself without beating myself up, that I will do better next time. I find that when I am nicer to me, I am nicer to others. And when I am nicer to others, this makes me feel more confident, more able to deal with the things that come up, and they will.

This confidence means that we are confident and happy with ourselves, as we are, feeling unique, special, confident and competent.

Maintaining high esteem may be a challenge for Mid Life Divas as things change, demands on our time increase rather than decrease. Time seems to speed up rather than slowing down, something this Mid Life Diva thought that she was looking forward to but am finding that now is the time when things are getting really interesting.

Some of us are often taking care of children, parents, maybe even grandchildren. Technological changes, decreasing resources, increasing demands at work, even our own high standards. All things that could potentially lead to crash and burn, unless we learn to baby ourselves. Be our own best friends.

I am learning to focus on what I do well, instead of trying to do everything. Do well in what is important to me.

Returning back to the adults in the kitchen, I teased my sister that when I grew up, I wanted to be just like my niece. Well, unless I can be Tina Turner when I grow up. That’s a different story.
My reasons are simple. My niece has the best self-image that I have ever seen in a girl of that age. She is truly her own best friend. She says that she is gorgeous; she says that she is smart. She is truly unstoppable. If she’s said it, it must be so.

Definitely a role model to aspire to be.

Mid Life Divas, how are you “babying your baby?” How are you being kinder to yourself? Got a comment about the column or just want to share some words wisdom with other Mid Life Divas? Share it with us! Join in the fray. Tell us what gives your life flavor. What makes you feel alive, want to stand up and dance. We want to hear it, your stories, and your ideas. Stop by to visit, stay awhile and dish!

Advance Review by Trumillia

2008-08-28T08:50:00.001-07:00

Advance Review by Trumillia

Posted using ShareThis

Girl, Just Look At You!

2008-08-25T13:49:00.000-07:00

Girl, just look at you, with your pretty self. You are so beautiful!

Not only are you beautiful, but you have the nerve to be talented and gifted by God. Hold your head up Girl and know that you are loved and appreciated. Don’t give the enemy any place to cause you to have low self-esteem or doubt. You are indeed fearfully and wonderfully made. This is your year to decree it and speak it! This is the year of new beginnings.

So get your step on, Girl, because God is faithful to perform all that He has promised to you! Be confident in Him and His word. The words you speak from your mouth determine your outcome. Why not speak good and positive things over your life Girl?

You are not defeated but rather you are more than a conqueror. You have been through a lot in your life and look at you now, just as pretty and as strong as ever! Oh, how blessed you are. Look what God has done and look where He has brought you from.

Begin to bless God and praise Him for all that He has done, and for making you so beautiful! He had you in His precious hands all the time. Your life is orchestrated by Him.

He knows you and what is best for you Believe that He has even greater things in store for you and your family. Girl, get over the silly stuff and grab hold of faith. Seek God as never before. Sure, times are hard, but God is Good! Learn to love who He has made you to be. There is no one like YOU.

– Author Unknown

Single at Mid Life - And Crazy As ...

2008-08-05T11:01:00.000-07:00

Heck. Heck is what I meant to say. As if my journey through MidLife Divadom did not come with enough “obstacles”, recently I read an article on the Everyday Health.com public site. The article, Being Single In Midlife Could Raise Your Risk For Dementia, published on July 30 by HealthDay News raised the alarm, stating that if you are single and in your 40s, it might be a healthy idea to get married.

What? No really, and the article had “research” to back up their claims. The results of the studies featured in the article are expected to be released August 6th at the Alzheimer’s Association’s National Medical and Scientific Advisory Council.

Said experts state that unmarried middle-aged people are more likely to develop cognitive impairment than their partnered counterparts are. That the process of “ruminating about life” could actually protect your brain. According to the research, Midlifers with partners have a 50 percent lower risk of showing signs of senility in late life compared to those who lived alone, those who stayed single their entire lives have double the risk of dementia while those who were divorced from midlife onward tripled their risk.

States study author Krister Hakansson, “Living in a couple means that you are confronted with other ideas, perspectives and needs. You have to compromise, make decisions and solve problems together with someone else, which is more complicated and challenging. It is probably easier to get stuck in your own habits and routines if you live by yourself”.

What??? I guess, once you are alone, the brain turns to mush because you have nothing else to think about? Oh goodness! I guess having a life of one’s own does not count for much anymore!

In my own defense, I think that I am – for now – going to hold out for further proof. Meanwhile, I have a ton of things to “ruminate over” that may more than help stave off an impending dual with sanity. I have more than enough things that actually drive me crazy to keep me from going crazy.

The Teenage Wonder also known as Son begins college in a week. He will – sheltered child that he is – be responsible for getting himself to the University – on time, everyday. He will be responsible for himself, which makes the Enabler in me CRAZY! However, same Teenage Wonder wants to wear the “big boy pants” of being a “grown-up” while asking me for money and what is for dinner – all in the same breath. Crazy!

Then, there is the up and down dance at the gasoline pumps, a constant “spin the wheel” as I guess how much it will cost me to fill up the tank of my “mini-SUV” this time.

There is the fluctuating weight scale that testifies to more “off days” and less “On days” as hormones does a number on my once athletic build. And let’s talk about those hot flashes. That is enough to drive anybody crazy!

Then, there is the political race, the never-ending political dance.

In addition, I have three sisters – three very strong-willed, opinionated sisters who never fail to make their views known. Need I say more about these women?

I have work that keeps me stimulated, friends who keep me motivated and one Phenomenal Mother who keeps me real. I have more than enough things that actually drive me crazy to worry about going crazy.

Yes, I have more than enough things that keep me stimulated, if these things are not going to help me fight off dementia, then I am doomed!

Taming Of The Shrew

2008-07-31T12:27:00.000-07:00

Lately, I have spent far too much time, some would say wasting my time, indulging in one of my favorite past times - checking out the goings on in Hollywood. Call it yet another guilty pleasure. There is always something going on. Somehow, whatever is going on in my world seems mundane compared to what is covered by the entertainment media.

Click after click reveals story after story of the arrival of yet another perfect Brad Pitt/Angelina Jolie offspring or two. Somebody’s gotten engaged. A little gossip here, a snip of a newsreel there. Somebody’s gotten un-engaged. The sheer abundance of “information” at my fingertips is amazing! However, one little nugget of “news” of late crossed my screen and I have to admit, I was horrified.

Ugh! I wanted to shield my eyes. I wanted to shield the dog’s eyes.

These days another Hollywood divorce is not anything new, a sad commentary on the state of things, but there it is. But this one was unique, the divorce du jour between Christie Brinkley from her now off-husband Peter Cook. Stories of he said/she said, he did/she did, improper behavior and the like. All accusations held in open court for the entire world, and for her children, to see.

What truly troubled me was that the decision to open the divorce proceedings to the media was a choice that had been made over the objection of counsel. Now, don’t get me wrong, I completely understand wanting revenge for public embarrassment and humiliation. I understand wanting to make him or her pay for the humiliation. I am sure that there is more than one woman or man out there who would like to “stick it to the bum” and hurt the other the way you have been hurt.

For her part in the debacle, Ms. Brinkley has been called a shrew. Pain displays her ugly little face in many ways. Some, present company included, may wonder what it was that drove Ms. Brinkley to demand her divorce proceedings opened to the media. How very hard it must be to come up to that line, that very thin line between love and hate, then stop, turn and walk away. Who is to say that if it were us, that we would not do the same? Though I don’t advise parading of your personal business before the entire world, I can understand the pain that had to be at the center of this tragedy.

It is too easy to shake our fingers at her and say, “You shouldn’t have.” Sometimes, when we are in the heat of the battle, we would sooner give the offender a one-way ticket to the hot spot before choosing to take the high road.

But, one or two bad decisions does not a shrew make. How we deal with it does. I guess what I am getting at is dignity. Dignity is a major weapon in our arsenal as Mid Life Divas making our journey through Mid Life Divadom.

Somebody do you wrong? I’m not saying just sit aside and look all tired and pathetic. Nor am I advising airing all of your dirty laundry and then some. Nor am I saying go completely left and unload with a verbal shotgun of insults, complaints and putdowns, Bonnie and Clyde style: “I’ll show you a thing or two!”

All I’m saying is that as Mid Life Divas, we have to hold on to the one thing that makes us the women we want to be, the person we’re proud to be when the lights go down. The authentic, genuine woman who, in the bright light of day, is the person we respect most of all.

Tame the Shrew who wants to beat this person senseless, whether it is physically – I believe that’s still called battery – emotionally or publicly.

Tame the Shrew with a little dignity. Think about the children. Think about ourselves. I know that what others say about you is not the main concern as you make your journey. But, what do you say about yourself when the lights go out and everything is quiet? Or when the “press” goes home and you’re all alone?

What can we say about ourselves when we see our reflections in the eyes of our children? Or in the eyes of the mothers who raised us? Can we honestly say that we’ve done the best that we could? Your reflection of you – your dignity – is you at your best. Our response says more about “us” than it says about “them”.

Don’t give it up, girl, not for anybody. Not to win. And certainly not to prove how bad, indecent or immoral the offending party is. I know we’ve heard it all before, but they will get theirs. Just don’t let it be at the expense of you losing yours.

That’s all I wanted to say.

Pride and the "B" Word" (Column Excerpt)

2008-07-25T11:29:00.000-07:00

I just want to apologize beforehand, as this column may not be as funny or as humorous as some that have been written, it’s just that I was struck by something during one of the few opportunities when I am actually able to sit still and watch daytime television programming.
I was watching “The View” recently – one of the few days that I have had off for some “just for me” time. Today’s guests were Dina and Ali Lohan, mother and sister of the publicity-embattled actress Lindsay Lohan and stars of the new reality show “Living Lohan”.
Apparently Ms. Lohan had been receiving a lot of flack and had been portrayed as an overbearing publicity seeking, spotlight hogging stage mother for the way she has at-tempted to shield her children from the brutal glare of the publicity that comes with star-dom. Her method of refuting her bad press - put it all out there within the public forum of a “reality” television show and refusing to allow access to her young brood.
For this, I am sure that Ms. Lohan has been “graced” with a great big scarlet “B” from one individual, photographer or another whose toes she may have stepped on. But what stuck in my mind long after the segment was done and after the show had gone to a commercial break was the statement that Ms. Lohan made during the clip, that “a lioness protects her cubs.” That got me thinking.
No doubt the “B” word and Ms. Lohan have been and will continue to be linked now and in the future as she has a younger daughter who is determined to become an ac-tress and singer like her famous sibling.
She will no doubt continue to have run-ins with those who will perhaps want to exploit her children and she will have many more opportunities to earn the “B” title. Ms. Lohan is the obstacle that stands between their story/photo-op and her children. Hence therefore the label.
Ms. Lohan describes herself as the lioness protecting her cubs. I certainly can un-derstand this, while some may not like the way she handles her business and though I may not agree with everything that she says or does, I can understand her motives. The lioness is the protector, the provider, and the caretaker of her pride. She is built for strength, not for speed. She guards her territory and hunts for the pride, traveling some-times five miles or more daily to provide for the needs of her pride.
She allows no strange animals to hunt her territory, ignore her warnings at your peril. The lioness rarely attacks unless she is tormented, injured or something threatens her young. She shelters her blind, helpless newborns, sometimes even against their own fathers. And only when the cub is able to hunt for and protect herself does the lioness let her go.
Ms. Lohan is going to be around for a long time, the lioness protecting her cubs no matter who approves of her methods.
Mid life Divas no doubt may encounter equally as many opportunities to earn the “B” label as we move through the next stages of our lives. It is difficult to be strong, con-fident and fearless without raising a few eyebrows or ruffling a few feathers. So be it.
We protect our prides to the death, letting our young go free only when they are ready. We are not necessarily concerned about the attitudes of others as they wonder what on earth we think we are doing with the choices that we will make with regards to our futures and how we want to live the remainder of our lives.
Not everything that we will do or attempt to do as we move through midlife is go-ing to meet the approval of friends, family or society. Change, as difficult as it is for us, is just as difficult and perhaps even confusing for others as they feel uncomfortable with the women that we are becoming. Unfortunately strong women with strong opinions and strong wills may often find themselves bearing the “B” label.
With all of that being said, it is important that Mid Life Divas protect not only their own pride, but also the entire pride of women and not indulge in the labeling of other lionesses.
Refuse to use the “B” word for any reason. This single word lays to waste the ef-forts of many strong women - past and present. How far would we be today if women of generations past had not dared to buck the status quo, perhaps earning the “B” label for themselves?
Strength and tenacity in a woman does not a “B” make.
We may not agree with the methods of others and how the other protects her own and stands up for her own. But we must protect the pride as a whole. Work together as a whole to provide for the whole. And defend the pride to the death.
Got a story or comment about your challenges as you move through Mid Life Di-vadom? Share it with us! Visit our blog http://musingsofamidlifediva.blogspot.com.
Or email me at tlunnethomas@kc.rr.com. Join in the fray! Tell us what gives your life flavor. What makes you feel alive, want to stand up and dance? We want to hear it, your stories, and your ideas. Stop by to visit, stay awhile and dish!

Sweet, Sweet Summertime (Column Excerpt)

2008-07-22T09:56:00.000-07:00

“In the summertime, when the weather is high,
You can stretch right up, an' touch the sky,
When the weather's fine, you got women, you got women on your mind…”

When I was a younger diva the opening strands of this one hit wonder by the early 1970s pop group Mungo Jerry always put me in the mood for summer. I was barely six years old when it was released and never understood the lyrics of the song but for each summer as far back as I can remember, this little ditty set the stage for long golden days of playing, hanging out and doing nothing.

I know that I say a major part of the journey through Mid Life Divadom is moving forward and not looking back on the way things could have or should have been but there is something about the golden days of summer that make me look back with fond memories of the days of girlhood.

When summer time was more about going outside playing from daybreak to sunset without a care in the world and less about worrying, dieting, cajoling and begging my midlife body to slip herself into any semblance of a swimsuit.

Summer was more about hanging out with girlfriends, eating popsicles, not caring what insects were swarming nearby and less about watching that clock on a Friday afternoon while coworkers swarm nearby, their minds already full of the activities they will participate in the minute that clock hits 5:00 (ok, 4:55 on Fridays!)

I remember “chicken walking” high-stepping on the hot sidewalks with bare feet, running out to talk to girlfriends in the hot glare of the sun until our mother’s shooed us inside because of news reports that some kid had been hospitalized with heat stroke.

Flirting with the older boys from “the other block”, not because they were cute, but simply because they were boys.

Riding my bicycle fearlessly with no hands on the handlebars, much to the dismay of my mother. Learning from my brothers how to pop the perfect wheelie on my bicycle, something other girls in my neighborhood never learned – or maybe never wanted to learn – to do.

Sneaking inside to listen and dance to the “forbidden rock music” on the radio the second my mom left the house for a church meeting. Or sneaking away with my bag of books borrowed from the library to sit and read action novels in my solitary hideout under the neighbor’s manicured forsythia bush.

Pretending to camp outside in the neighbor girl’s tent until her one-eyed cat Cricket decided to jump against the side of the tent in his manic quest to “get the bug”. I never did find out why that cat had one eye…

Playing outside until I smelled like the outside. Trying to sit still as my mother brushed then washed sticks and whatever else from my hair before bed. Drifting off to sleep at night, cotton sheets thrown off, windows open, with the old box fan whining and groaning in the background.

Days stretching on forever as we simply lived. I know it is cliché, but all good things come to an end. Summers eventually stretched into real life with the start of school in the fall, and then into grown up life.

Life was simple then, there was no need for so many bells and whistles. Summers were simply about uncomplicated, unfettered joy.

As I continue on my Mid Life Diva journey, I find myself longing to recapture this joy. Not my youth – heaven’s no! Once on that ride is more than enough! I look for ways to be able to tuck joy-full moments into the corners of my everyday life.

I have a good friend who seems to have harnessed the knack of capturing pure joy. Believe it or not, she accomplishes this feeling simply by enjoying a good meal. Upon receiving her meal, my girlfriend takes off her glasses and slips her feet out of her sandals. With the first mouthful, she closes her eyes, savoring every bite. She is in Nirvana. When I asked why on earth she removes her glasses and her shoes when she is eating, her reply was simple. “I just want to twinkle my toes.” Nirvana, for my friend, is simply twinkling her toes.

I think that what is in order is a summer break for Mid Life Divas. Too many of us no longer find pleasure in our routines of jobs, kids, parents and everything else that makes up a life.

My proposed summer breaks would include the following: go outside, away from the television, the telephone, even for a few minutes.

Enjoy a Popsicle, even if you have to fend off a few bugs. Twinkle your toes in the freshly cut grass. Give yourself permission to rest. Let go of the caretaker role – if only for a minute or two. Find yourself a figurative forsythia bush to sit under, hide there whenever you need some quiet time, and calm your nerves. Break away; develop summer rituals that celebrate you.

Indulge in the things that make your happy, beauty, love, peace, sunsets, music. Reclaim the things that bring you joy. Move joyfully, if you feel like dancing, skipping, singing – do it.

Whose business is it really? Don’t wait for someone else to give you what you need. You are everything you need right now.

Remember these golden Mid Life Diva days as some of the most joy-full so far. Sit back, regroup, rethink. And don’t forget to twinkle your toes.

Mid Life Divas, how are you “twinkling your toes” this summer? How are you being kinder to yourself? Got a comment about the column or just want to share some words wisdom with other Mid Life Divas? Share it with us! Tell us what you want to talk about in future columns.

A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To Mid Life (Column Excerpt)

2008-07-21T10:15:00.000-07:00

“Ow!” The truth hit me like a load of bricks. OK, so it wasn’t as painful as a brick; rather it felt more like a thump on the head. I looked around to see if anyone else had noticed my strange behavior.

It was my forty-third birthday and I decided to celebrate by taking a vacation day. Today I would do only the things that I wanted to do, I would go where I wanted, and eat what I wanted – within reason, of course. Tomorrow, this Diva would have to rejoin the rest of the world, right?

Today was my “Just Say No to Everything but Me” day.

The day could not have been more perfect had I planned it, the traffic lights were in my favor; the radio was playing my favorite tunes. The Teenage Wonder also known as Son was not there to give me the dirty look because I was embarrassing him so I rolled down my window, singing out loud.

Not feeling that I could totally rebel, I’d decided against the ice cream on a cone that I really wanted in favor of a trip to the salad bar instead. I stopped at a stop sign in the grocery store parking lot.

Standing at the curb of the crosswalk was a slim, pretty young girl in her early teens. Her hair was long and straight and she wore braces. She looked plain miserable standing with the woman I assumed to be her mother. That was when I heard her sharply reprimanding the girl.

“For God’s sake, Abby! Please don’t slouch!” Stepping off of the curb, the lecture continued all of the way to their car. I shook my head, feeling sorry for Abby.

I remember my young Abby days, going out into the world, society itself a “mother” reprimanding me to do what’s right and do what is expected. Don’t buck the trend and whatever you do, don’t make waves.

I chased my “happily ever after” – dream job, handsome prince, 2.5 children playing fetch with the dog in yard while my prince told me how wonderful I was. You know the fairy tale. He was no prince, we divorced and the fairy tale ended there. I was faced with raising our only child on my own. But as I said before, a funny thing happened on the way to Mid Life. Life happened. In spite of myself, I became A GROWN UP!

I had to recover my strength; I had a young child staring into my terrified face everyday depending on me. We didn’t know any better. I changed gears to discover the things that truly gave my life flavor. I could demand more. I was making peace with myself. Taking charge of me.
A new calm took over as I pushed the Teenage Wonder through the teenage jungle until finally we could see the light at the end of the tunnel and knew that it wasn’t the train this time.

This journey felt like a new pair of shoes – awkward, tight, snug, uncomfortable but feeling better and more comfortable the more I wore them. And there was one unexpected benefit, I found that it really didn’t matter much what someone else thought about it. What a revelation!
Free at last free to be me! Understanding who I’m in my world and seeing everything for the first time.

Mid Life Divas, we are embarking on an extraordinary journey, we are going to see some things, do some things, and make our lives work for us! You may hear others say, "She's got an attitude". My position on this "change back" message is to agree - yes agree! Of course, you do! You will no longer view yourself in the same way as you hack your way through the deep underbrush of overgrown attitudes and views that no longer fit you. Consequently, you will no longer be able to view others the same way either.

I had a revelation. The shoes of my journey finally fit! I was over forty, for Pete’s sake! I no longer had to twist myself into someone else’s ideal and had grown quite comfortable in my own skin. That was when I had the thump on my head.

The truth was that I no longer had to fit into the mold that someone else chose for me. How glad I was to no longer have to shoulder the burden of youth and the quest to be the best, the brightest, the prettiest everything.

This Life Diva was ready to go out and shake her tail feathers! I laughed out loud, not caring if anyone else heard me, wanting to get out of my car and skip around the parking lot, very un-Diva like behavior I’m sure, but there you have it.

I flicked on my turn signal and drove myself to the fast food restaurant I’d passed minutes ago and treated myself to a chocolate-vanilla swirl ice cream cone.

In honor of Abby.

Hey all of you out there! We’re Mid Life Divas; we can do what we want. And I want your stories about how you’re doing it. Have a story about your own journey over and through this strange new terrain? Share it with us. Join the fray!

Serious Goings On With Mid Life Divas

2008-07-13T05:38:00.000-07:00

Good morning Mid Life Divas! I've been thinking all week about how I wanted to write to you about the upcoming changes for the Musings Blog. I thought about writing something deep and prolific, but then I realized, I wanted to build lasting relationships with other MLDs. Can hardly do that if you know nothing about me, right? So, I thought it might be fun to share some info about me and I hope that you will share back some things about you. I know that I am looking forward to many more conversations as we make this crazy, fantastic and sometimes just plain strange journey through mid life.

I am mother to the Teenage Wonder also known as Son, daughter to a phenomenal woman, sister to three lifelong divas and two totally cool brothers. I have a "council" of many friends to whom I refer to as my family - family is who you choose to graft into your life, not only with whom you share a genetic bond.

I am the eldest of six and I never let them forget it! I am "rhythmically challenged", meaning I could not dance my way of out a paper bag and I seem to be allergic to just about everything anymore! My list could go on and on.

I write a column, Musings of a Mid Life Diva, which I am hoping to syndicate in the near future and am currently working on the book "A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To Mid Life", based on conversations from the blog and the column, with future plans of producing a docudrama about the lives of Mid Life Divas in America.

I am discovering that becoming a Mid Life Diva is not some ethnic thing, it's a woman thing. A woman totally in charge of herself and not afraid to live out loud. Black, white, yellow, brown, we owe it to ourselves and those we love to be and expect the best that we can be. This column and blog is something totally different, something fun. Come out and play with us! We are going to shake our tail feathers. Maybe we will act up and act out, but most of all, we will be free to be and to become the Divas that we were born to be. And we are going to talk about it, laugh about it, we may even cry about it.

Write in and tell the rest of us how you do it, make yourself heard. Maybe you have something for the rest of us.

We're Mid Life Divas, we can do what we want. And I want your stories about how you're doing it. Have a story about your journey over and through this strange new terrain? Share it with us! Join the fray!

Taking Away The Tools!

2008-05-20T14:00:00.000-07:00

I read a very interesting story today, I searched everywhere to determine who the author was but could not, so for the sake of this entry on my blog, we will say –Anonymous wrote it. Lately I’ve been struggling a lot with this issue and it seemed a fitting entry for today’s blog.
A story is told about Satan having a yard sale way down deep in Egypt. He spread out all of his favorite tools on the tables and placed price tags on each of them. One buyer purchased a sparkling well kept tool labeled “anger” for a reasonable price. Another buyer purchased a slightly worn tool labeled “jealousy” for a little more. All day long people came and went, then, near the end of the day; a man saw an old tool lying on the table in the back. The tool was rusted and worn, the hinges of the tool squeaked and the handle was chipped and broken. The man picked up the tool, eying the price tag, this tool was more expensive than all of the rest! Even the tool labeled “lust” had been priced much lower than this beat up old tool.
“Why is this tool so expensive?” the prospective buyer asked Satan. “Ahhh,” Satan said. “That tool is the most effective and most used tool that I have. I hate to part with it. Most Christians can weather and withstand nearly all of the other weapons I have used against them; many can eventually recover from greed and envy, even lust. But don’t be fooled, this tool works quietly without the Christian even being aware that I am using it. I can slip this tool in and use it to keep a Christian defeated for a lifetime. That rusty old worn tool is “discouragement”. I remind them of their sins and how many times and how badly they have failed before in the past and how weak they are. And they never know that I am using it.”
We must not allow Satan to continue to use this tool. We must press on, take the enemy’s tools away, tell him that we are forgiven and Christ is our strength when we are weak. Tell him that we are Children of the Almighty God!
Pass It On!

So Over Winter!

2008-04-27T11:06:00.000-07:00

I don’t know about anybody else, but this seems to have been my worst winter yet. I don’t know if it’s because I’m older - yes, I will admit it - and am just not wanting to suffer the cold anymore, or if in fact we truly seemed to have more snow than usual. Maybe I can blame it on global warming. But more than not, I can just blame it on my own crankiness. I have had it with all of the long days of staying inside, long days of watching moodily out the window as the rain washes my new grass seeds and fertilizer into the gutter, down the street and into my neighbor’s front yard. Of course this means that she will have a lovely lawn this spring - and I will have whatever is left. I’m just ready to get out, throw off the coats and sweaters and just go outside to play.

Must Stay Focused!

2007-12-08T19:50:00.000-08:00

Now that NANOWRIMO is done, I have to stay focused! I find myself AGAIN getting lazy, falling back on the fact that yes, I could write a novel in 30 days. But now comes the real test, finding out if what I wrote is truly garbage or if I have something salvagable in those 50,000 words. If not, I will have to begin again. Must stay focused!

Nanowrimo! 50234 Words!

2007-11-28T19:44:00.000-08:00

Thank God it's finally over! The book is not done, although B and M are pushing me to "get it done this weekend". Proof that you can do something, if you have the proper motivation. Time for a nap!

Closing In

2007-11-27T21:47:00.000-08:00

Nanowrimo - three days left. 46,721 words down 3,279 to go!

Nanowrimo - 44042

2007-11-26T20:38:00.001-08:00

44042 , less than 6,000 words to go! Must get some sleep!

NaNoWriMo Homestretch!

2007-11-25T19:08:00.000-08:00

Oh my Gosh! My fingers are killing me! But I am in the home stretch of NaNoWriMo. 41,729 words down, 8,271 to go! I guess that the double teaming of M and B is paying off, have no choice but to finish now or must endure the wrath of my family, especially the teenager. He swears that he's been neglected the entire month of November, he doesn't look any worse for wear! Onward and upward!

Nanowrimo - Crunch Time!

2007-11-24T21:44:00.000-08:00

Just logged in to NANOWRIMO, this is the last week - thank God!!! I have 37,057 words, 12943 to go. I will be so glad when this is done! I can nearly see the end, and Bren and Marq are going to make sure I get there, even if they have to drag my limp incoherent body over the virtual finish line. Thanks you two! You know I luv ya!

Half Way There!

2007-11-18T17:55:00.000-08:00

Well, the push is on. I am a little more than half way there as far as my word count goes, but I am hardly happy with the story, really trying to resist the urge to go back and edit, desperately trying not to get caught up in that yet. 26,268 words down, 23,732 to go!

Blast it all NANOWRIMO!

2007-11-13T13:41:00.001-08:00

Blast NANOWRIMO! I am up to 14,465 words, but am still behind more than I'd like to be! I know, but there's only 17 days left and being the perfectionist that I am, I keep wanting to go back an edit every single one of those words! Still plugging along!

NANOWRIMO!

2007-11-11T06:03:00.000-08:00

Nanowrimo is driving me crazy! I'm starting to think that this is my name, I'm sure that it will pass as soon as November 30 comes and goes. But I digress. NANOWRIMO - the torture that I willingly set myself up for is a month - a SHORT month, during which I "promise" that I will write an entire 50,000 word novel in 30 days. 30 days of grueling, pulling of hair and gnashing of teeth. What in the world was I thinking? But really, so far it goes - I can't say GREAT - but it goes in spurts and starts. I started out strong but this is where the voices of doubt show up and say "what is this crap!" Fortunate for me, what I write during these 30 days of h*** doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be on paper! That's what December is for, the Great Edit Fest. To keep me going I have developed a little pep squad of my own, my sisters, my nieces and my good friend H. These people will keep me on the straight and narrow, cracking that whip, so to speak. Today's the 11th already? 19 days to go!

End of the Conference - Back To Work!

2007-10-13T08:00:00.000-07:00

Muse Online Writer's Conference

2007-10-08T07:44:00.000-07:00

Columbus Day - the discovery of a new world, I guess I'm discovering a new world of my own.

This morning was the first day of a weeklong online writer's conference, the first I've ever heard of. Have been spending WAY too much time looking at other writer's blogs, supposed to be attending workshops, but seem to keep getting lost in cyberwoods on the way to the workshop. Hopefully will have the process down before the end of the conference! This mid-life diva has a lot to learn! "Mr. Thomas", my teenage wonder is the technoguy, would really get a kick out of seeing the Diva plugging away. Glad I could provide so much entertainment for him! More later!