Changes in potting and perspective on PNN

                 A couple of weeks ago a few of my flowerpots blew off the hooks on my balcony and hit the pavement two floors below. Hard to believe but two of them seemed to somehow slightly survive the fall, though both were clearly damaged externally (the little plastic pot was broken) and internally (the plants were hurting, you could just see it). So, today, I decided I needed to repot them. Now, this is not as easy as it sounds. First of all, getting the damn little hooky thingies off is no easy matter, and then getting them back on the new ones is no picnic either. Also, the plants did not want to leave their original pots, even though the pots were broken. I was pretty worried about them and I still am, though I am honestly more hopeful than I was when they were in their broken state. I have even figured out how to hook them into the inside part of the hanger thingies so they are much less likely to fall.

                All of this got me to thinking of PNN. Less than two weeks ago we all managed to meet each other, chat, eat, sleep, drink, share good and good times, share giving and receiving, and to just be and it was pretty wonderful—not perfect (still steamed about Loews and the bagel) but wonderful. There was giving and generosity and laughter all around. I guess that’s why the little tumble off the balcony hurts me so much. Now, I need to be honest. For the last weekend I’ve been rather consumed with birthday BBQ planning and sister visiting trauma and then birthday having trauma and then recovering from drinking way, way too much on my birthday (and the sangria was damn good but not that much sangria) recovery trauma.

So, I have not read enough of the PNN blogging that seemed to have started all of this to participate in a truly informed manner. I want to say that up front. However, women I have come to care for an (dare I say it) love deeply are hurting and that is hurting me. They are even considering leaving here and that is hurting me. See I am the one who is only to quick to ream Leigh and PNN in general for not supporting women enough—but I would not waste my time here if I did not like the original idea of a blog site for, and supportive of, women. And yes, ream me all you want (you KNOW you want to) but I continue to try to ignore the guys on here because it is so rare for women to find their own space and I am always shocked at how quickly men need to intrude—I mean, it’s not like there are not co-ed, or generally male sites for them to post on!

Back to the repotting . . . I want to remind everyone of some special people that maybe took a tumble off the balcony. When we got together I was so grateful that Mother of Many was willing to meet me at the bus station because I had no idea where I was or where I was going. I was so grateful to ComicTragedy for booking a room because I had no idea anything about Philly. I think all of us were in awe of the amount of planning these two women had done. Well, Loews kind of didn’t do everything Comic planned for us (but Comic, one word from you and I’ll write the letter if you haven’t already and I’ll post it here) but they each did a lot. Need I remind everyone of the wealth of stuff in the back of MoM’s van? Remember the faces on the women as we carried it all in—boas and stilettos and all? Need I remind everyone of Comic’s efforts for the swag of boas for all of us and the women in the shelter?

I personally adored the teddy bears and roses like you would not believe and have two little girls who think I am a hero in their eyes for gifting them to them (they even took them to the movies!). MoM is even planning another lunch for the women. I personally always prefer a social outing if it has a charitable aspect, mostly because whenever I “give” to “charity” I find I’m the real recipient. And on the comment about how so many of us are steps from the shelter ourselves, I can’t tell you how true that is. Also, MoM was the one who helped make the flask possible for Comic by collecting funds and sending it and Comic did reciprocate with lots of gratitude. I’d like to see that effort put forth now.

I guess what I’m asking for is a forgiving presence, or, as SallyG called it on Annie’s post on unconditional love, an assumption of good. If we can agree, as only women can, to assume good intentions on all parts, given that we can’t hear tone or see faces (or tears, which kills me that there have been tears over this), that what we see on the page might have a different meaning that what we at first assume, then I think we might survive this. We might just find out flowers blooming as gorgeously as they ever did. I know there is a lot of pain from the tumble and I know that change is never easy—that post tumble lots of us tend to stick to our pots even though they are broken because they let us remember how painful the tumble was. I am hopeful though that, as women, we have the resilience to survive the repotting and to flourish on the balcony again, or, as someone once said (yes, the smarticle is forgetting the source) to bloom where we are planted—on PNN’s page. Oh, and I need to invite Suzanne over so she can pass out the s’mores!

I had no idea that Philadelphia could be this much FUN!!!

 I need to tell a little story about some wonderful women who are so pumped full of generosity, kindness and FUN that they simply defy explanation. This last weekend I had the pleasure (and I do mean that) of traveling from Boston to Philadelphia. I went by bus, the Chinatown buses—yes, two buses, on that stopped in NYC and another that went from NYC to Philadelphia, total cost $50 roundtrip, cause I travel cheap. Oh, and I travel stupid! Wore skinny jeans on the way down (cause, you know, they are so comfy in a bus) and have major nerve damage now (thanks Carm for letting me know) and then lost my purse on the way back (and now I have to light a candle for twenty days for the Virgen de Guadalupe cause the bus company found it—cell phone, keys, money, credit cards and all).

Anyway. . . back to the super women. First, NO ONE looked like I expected them to look or sounded like I expected them to sound. Hipchick was the closest, with gorgeous taste in clothes and a slightly (but not exceptionally) high pitched voice and the kind of legs that women only achieve if they train competitively in sports or if they live for squats, lifting and the treadmill. Mother of Many is gorgeous, inside and out. She led me to believe she was a plump little mommy type—NOT AT ALL. She is beautiful and caring and open and just fabulous. So, these two wonders met me at the bus station and we went from there to the hotel. There, I met Comic—I was expecting a highly holy terror given her email and comment history and she was a high holy delight—so much fun and the kind of person who can call you a “stupid bitch” and make you laugh while doing it cause in that instance it is oh so true. I also met Kimber, who is so pretty and young and impossible to imagine as a corporate attorney. Again, Kimber and Comic suggested they were large (as had MoM) and all were in shape and lovely and gorgeous inside and out (well, except for their mouths, but that was why they are so much fun!).

While at the hotel we picked up our swag—boas from Leigh (I had brought my own, but Leigh, next time try to get tiaras too, mine kept coming out so we need the larger kind, not the comb in front kind). Also, Mother of Many, in all of her gloriousness, had scored both swage AND gifts for us all. We each got these adorable, awesome, cuddly little Ross teddy bears and a make-up set from Mary Kay. Her husband had gotten us each flowers, a dozen roses with baby’s breath, that are made of wood shavings (though you would NEVER know it) in beautiful colors and they even know the artist family that creates them. Thank you so VERY much husband of Mother of Many (who is a hunk by the way, did not meet him but did see pictures so trust me, very hunky husband of Mother of Many, beautiful kids too!).

We went from the hotel to the shelter. Let me tell you, Mother of Many had raided her home, her neighbors’ homes and every store she could convince. The van was so full that it took all four of us (in stilettos) and two helpers (strong guys) from the shelter to get it all in. There were boxes of Bath&Body Works stuff that I’d have loved, boxes of teddies that were enough for each child to have one, boxes of books, boxes of clothes, boxes of diapers (the women inside were swooning, but there is a rule that they can’t touch anything till the director decides how to distribute it). I felt so paltry by comparison—I’d brought some suits and clothes figuring everyone can use a suit for that interview that everyone waits for in hopes of a job.

At the shelter we met three wonderful women: Vanessa, Margarita and Lesley. They kept us in stitches with great stories and hopes and jokes. They were totally ok with our irreverent ways and did not bat an eye when we gave them boas (and they put them on). We had a great time at the restaurant—good choice MoM!—and all ate well (I gained two pounds over the weekend). We had several stares and questions—including a query as to whether we were a bachelorette party. They assumed I was the bride to be as my boa (the one I brought) was pink and all the others were orange. Well, Hipchick, cause she’s soooooo cool you know (and damn I wanted to figure out how to shrink and steal her shoes), well, Hipchick kindly informed them that we were a bachelorette party and that she and Kimber were getting married. AND.THEY.BELIEVED.HER. It was precious. Then she gave her boa away to a young woman asking about why we were all dressed up and who said, “I want a boa too.” Hipchick did clap for her (like she would for a trained sea lion) but she also gave her the boa, so it’s ok. We split the bill and it was really reasonable and I was sooo happy about our guests joining us and I even got to use my math skills to tell how to divvy it up (but then I forgot to check that the gratuity was included, ooops!), oh, and Comic was so understanding when Hipchick and Kimber paid with their credit cards (NOT!). It was funny, in a weird way. Hipchick kept telling us how her posts are about NOTHING and I told her she had a hit as Seinfeld was famous for being about nothing and look where that got them. . .

We went back to the shelter and dropped off our guests with hugs and happiness. MoM and Comic gave their numbers, in case they should ever need anything. (I’m going to figure I can’t do so much from Boston). Then, over to the train station to pick up Hannabanana (hate to disappoint but she was NOT yellow!) and back to the hotel.

Comic was watching out for us and asked why our name and info and the charities’ names and info was not on an entrance easel or the message board and why our reservation was not listed (evil Loews gave a “not my job but someone who is not here” excuse, lame ass hotel, don’t patronage them!). Well, we found a spot and ordered drinks and started with a little tiny waiter who was totally into Hipchick (but she was so NOT into him) and Hipchick and Kimber were busy pressing their tits (or their free drinks as Kimber calls them) against the window to scare or entice the pedestrians, we managed to score a different waitress—Candy. Ladies, Candy is sooooo awesome and wonderful, she is an honorary PNN member, just has to be. I almost forgive Loews just for hiring someone as great as her. She is from Jamaica and was giving us the low down on the wedding party with the fine guys staying in the hotel (unfortunately, I only found them as we were leaving so I was unable to take one upstairs to play with. . . ) and about the best and fun-nest-est drinks.

When the electric slide came on (well, um, I can’t line dance, so I watched) and Kimber and Hipchick got up to dance, Candy joined in! We have photos!!! She helped cut and pass out the great cake Comic got for us (we were the high-heeled society and Candy is an honorary member of that too) and helped pass out what we could not eat (though I had a big, chunky piece, hence the two pounds). Then, Conchita joins us and, ladies, she is the only person who looks like what I expected (probably because her avatar is her photo, ya thank?). We had plenty to drink and noshed on cheese and fruit (cept most of us were still too full from dinner and then the cake!) and toasted and drank and then Skyped, or tried to, with Leigh (who also looks like the photo she posts, but is funny when her face freezes mid-talk). Too funny but true, Hannabanana, who knows how to do Skype, used Kimber’s laptop to try to connect, bitching heartily and loudly about the slowness and primitiveness of the computer the whole time. But Kimber is just soooooo sweet, she told the banana to shut the fuck up and something like go fuck yourself bitch, or something sweet and kind like that so it was all ok. Oh, and the banana? She picked up the whole bill—cause she is awesome like that too!

Then, we headed upstairs for more drinking and noshing (MoM and Hipchick had gotten alcohol and snacks galore) and went on a hunt for 7-Up for Comic (just so you know, Sprite will NOT work). And, guess what, Candy showed up with a tray with two magnums of champagne and some champagne glasses with strawberries for all of us (see why I like this woman?). So, we convinced her to at least stay for a toast and we PROMISE Candy that when Loews sends the email survey we will praise you to the highest (while slamming everything else). We then stayed up chatting and chatting and chatting with lots of lovely little four and five letter dirty words thrown in and Banana told more about the S&M deal and Kimber shared and Hipchick shared and everyone had a funny pet story or a “can you believe my child/friend/fiancé/family did THAT?” story. Lots of laughter and craziness was had by all. My tiara, which would just NOT stay in my hair, ended up being passed around. Banana and I have the same semi-fro hair—weeee fun, no?

So then, Conchita, Kimber and MoM ABANDONNED us, but we forgive them. We had great talks and all until about 2 AM and then I conked out, not sure what went on after but I should tell you all, that Comic woman, she DOES NOT SLEEP—it’s kinda freaky. She doesn’t really eat either.

The next morning we met in the lounge for breakfast (yes, hot tea was the bargain price of $4). I do NOT recommend the bagels (I am kind of a bagel snob, even for a Mexican) but everything else looked awesome. Then Hipchicks honey came to get her and the other three of us went to let the management know our unhappiness. Just to let you know, if letting management know how they have not done their job and how they might do it better were a profession, I think I’d be pretty highly paid, but I’ll let Banana and Comic vouch. Gonna post my letter here too!

Then the wonder women drove home (yes, they live close, scary no, Comic and Banana in the same vicinity) and I headed to the bus station—after hugs and smiles all the way around. We do have photos and, though slow, my Blackberry did take pictures too. They are coming! I have been off-line (the bus ride back took longer than getting there and I thought I lost my purse, but then not) so now I’m eager to read all the stuff you all are writing. And, DAMN, 1918 words, can’t enter this one in Do The Write Thing either—lame—can’t we up that word count???? Oh, 1937.

Skinny jeans are on the body

First, I want to thank the dear, dear FromtheHipChick (my hero for life) for encouraging me with her gym prowess and for telling me to get back out there despite a chip off my shoulder (literally, as in broken) that had me out of the gym for two months (or at least condemned to the bike and leg lifts). I went today and RAN and figured out I am out of shape so instead of the usual two miles at eight minutes I did about twenty minutes at intervals of eight minute pace and an eighteen minute pace (big, big difference). Then, I walked on an incline for another twenty. Then, I worked my abs.

No, I did not make yoga (frickin’ friends always call as I’m steppin’ out the door and me, the idiot answers the phone). However, I WILL make yoga tomorrow. Which is a roundabout way of saying, I am working on the skinny jeans for PPP. I have a pair on (one of three, one is at the boys so I’ll try them this weekend and the other just aren’t going over the Mexican thigh thing), but, did you notice, I HAVE A PAIR ON.

Now, they are super snug and my ass hangs out the back (they are very low cut) and my belly is a tad softer than I’d like (maybe more than a tad) but they are ON MY BODY!! NO, they do not pass the ‘do not wear things that make your belly do the muffin top’ test (though, I must admit it’s more of a pouch than a muffin top) and thus, due to the needs of style I will NOT be wearing them in public for a bit, but still . . .

And, as a sign I do not need to eat for the rest of the evening, I am leaving them on! Thank you FromtheHipChick!

Friendships need tending like gardens, pets and c

I have a friend who’s been my friend since college. She is really special. When we knew each other in college we were each a rare breed: rather un-experienced in the boy area and over reflective in every other one. She had more money than I could imagine—drove a Porsche, had new cookware, got her money from her parents in stock dividends. I had parents who were overseas and asked me to send them things as I continued to work my way through. We had a mutual friend and through her we got to know each other.

One day I asked if she would like to go hiking with a group of friends of mine. She’d had a lousy day (including a theft that has yet to be solved and was really awful). Little did I know she LOVES hiking. We had a great time and my crazy friends did not scare her off and we even had a chance to repel. However, on the way back, we were in the back, one of my friends who was driving was hit by a very, very drunk driver. My friend and I were rushed to the hospital and she and I were totally out of it for a bit. Happily we were ok in the end (though I had a really bumped and swollen nose that left me with a complex. . .)

At the time in college, I was a regular Catholic-Mass-attender and she was the kind to complain about how her favorite radio station had become a “God station, can you believe it” and express how disappointed she was. Little did I know she’d been raised Catholic.

Well, things have changed mightily since then. I went to work in urban education, loved it and have worked ever since the current year when I’m spending more time writing than earning I’m sad to say. While working in urban education I continued to go to Mass and volunteered for CCD and was rejuvenated when the Church spoke up for the rights of immigrants and the poor and those in prisons. Then I went to graduate school in the Boston area and discovered that the Catholic had all these evil secrets and it really saddened me. I’d always disagreed with their stance on abortion (I walked out on one sermon at eight years old!) but the other stuff had kept me there. However, the sex scandal and the Kerry-Bush campaign was my last straw. I was teaching some graduate classes and I had SEVERAL students who had themselves or had close relatives who had been molested—it was awful!!! Also, on www.catholic.com (I was kicked off for being too liberal) they said the elections should be decided based on abortion, stem cell research and gay marriage, and that Catholics should vote for those opposed or risk expulsion. Of course Kerry, the CATHOLIC candidate, supported rights in each. I was pretty depressed. I have not been to Mass since except for attending friends’ weddings and even then can’t seem to pray the same way and will NOT put money in the basket. My new religion, EX-Catholic.

My friend spent a bit traveling around and volunteering for the Olympics and visiting friends (I loved it when she visited me in Texas, one of only two people to do so). In the mean time, she had a severe reversal of fortune due to a stock market crash and she also had two awful tragedies in her family, losing her father and brother. She had a hard time finding comfort. She is such a kind soul she felt guilty for her grief because she’d been to Africa and seen so many dying there. If anyone deserved comfort and a chance to grieve, it was her. If anyone did not deserve the tragedies that befell her, it was her. She found her solace through a local Church that both she and her mother now attend. She is part of a bible-study and she regularly offers to pray for friends. I am happy for her that she has found a source of comfort.

Of course, all of this has been tricky handling in the friendship department. See, I’m a liberal Democrat and she’s conservative and almost always votes Republican. However, we did disagree on the military in a way that made me, an army brat, appear the conservative. I spoke of the need to return to the draft so everyone did their part and she said if there was ever a war she would send her brother to Canada (this was when he was alive). But the Kerry campaign nearly undid us. I sent several messages I’d receive regarding the issues and she got miffed but I did not receive her emails asking me to stop until I’d sent three more (sending from work and receiving at home). I was very anti-war and she was very anti-liberal anything.

Recently I went to see her on a job trip. We went on a seven hour hike which was heavenly! I was so grateful for the hike and repeatedly told her so (I hope she heard me). She told me she was disappointed as she’d thought the altitude (we climbed a mountain) and the length would kill me—though an allergy attack nearly did.

On my last day though, she and I had a long heart to heart. I shared how it makes me uncomfortable when she offers to pray for me but that I try (I do try, I’m just not always successful) to keep my mouth shut. She shared that it makes her uncomfortable that I don’t date white men (this is a long story, there are plenty of groups I don’t date but most people center on the white men). She does not date non-Christians, but I wasn’t going there. Due to horrendous experiences as an Army brat, I also don’t see male doctors for anything very personal and white male doctors for anything (and I know, I’m gonna get slammed on this here but just trust me, if you’d had my experiences with a lot of white male doctors, a LOT, you would understand).

I also tend to talk back to the TV when people harangue on Barak and she tends to remind me she’s happy she has no kids (neither of us do) because she’s scared for the future with all the debt he’s bringing. We do NOT see eye-to-eye politically and we’ve each done a 180 religiously but we remain on opposite sides of the fence, we just switched sides. She’ll tell me I sleep around too much or make what I see as a snide remark about me recommending to my lil’ sis that she not ‘save’ herself but get some fun in her youth—and I’ll let it go in the name of friendship. Believe me, I’m sure she’s letting a lot go, though neither of us is the type not to say what we feel.

However, despite our differences, we remain friends and I am so happy for that. We have both had a really tough financial year. She came to my aid a few years back when I was buying a house in a big way and I’m happy to say I paid her back with interest within two or three months—but I was really grateful just the same because at that point, she did not have the easy money she did in her childhood.

I think we are better friends for seeing each other through changes that divide our viewpoints and for both the comments that surfaced and those we swallowed. Basically, friendships need babysitting and care—they don’t just sustain themselves on air. I’m going to try to remember that. I’m going to start sending Christmas cards again (or Hanukah or Ramadan or Happy New Year, depending on the recipient) and I’m going to do my best to stay in touch, especially with friends far away. The phone call, email or visit time is reaped a zillion times over.

Friendship is a tricky thing

The trick to life-long friendships is to maintain a closeness and understanding across life’s changes, changes in location, changes in belief systems, and changes in one’s family network. At least, that's been my finding over the last four decades of my life. As many of my women friends remind me, it is difficult to sustain a friendship across marriage and children for those of us still childless and single. It can be done but the fact is, the nature of the friendship changes when the options of spontaneity—hey, let’s catch a movie or meet for coffee—face changing priorities, as in, I need to find a sitter or sorry, Juan has a play date.

I discovered this phenomenon early in an interesting way. A fellow teacher at the middle school in South Central Los Angeles, where I began my career invited me to join her book club. I really looked up to this woman. She was the head of the English department and a true advocate for women. Unlike me, she had come from a modicum of money (I came from a modicum of scrapping by) and spoke of other job choices she had pursued, only to find a female glass ceiling. She had been in a sorority and had often asked her sorority sisters to consider donations to the campus women’s center. I had worked three jobs in college (different jobs at any time but always at least three) and there was no time or dues for a sorority. However, when we found each other on the same hallway I was truly grateful for any advice she provided me as a first-year teacher. Further, I was roommates with a super right-wing Christian woman who started an affair with a married teacher—forcing me to question my own Catholic views. When the head of the English department invited me to join her book club, it was like being tossed a lifeline. I knew almost no one in LA.

The other women (it was all women) were as liberal as she was and several were also Jewish, though not all. We read books by women authors to provide support. Through the group I met great, strong women, read great books and participate in incredible conversations. However, what I really learned about through joining the group was how women can change at various points in life. When I joined, almost all of the women were recently married. The students still called my friend by her maiden name and she had converted to Judaism when she married. At least I felt a slight similarity to her as the only single woman and a recent college grad in this room of early thirty somethings, most married for at least two years.

I found myself learning from their discussions of “life with husband:” his habits, getting him to clean, changing eating patterns when living with another, discovering what they should have requested for a wedding gift, etc. Next was “life with dog:” choosing a puppy, house breaking puppy, finding a trainer, needing to get home to walk said puppy, etc. This followed with “life pregnant:” trying to conceive, dealing with morning sickness, changes in eating patterns when eating for two, doctors and their opinions, and one woman who was put on bed rest so we all met at her home. The pregnancy stages had interesting repercussions, as when we chose to read Geek Love, a book about a mother who takes all sorts of drugs in hopes of having “freak” children who could find a role in their circus-like family. By the time the women reached “life with baby” I was on my way east to pursue graduate studies after the astonishment of a scholarship from an Ivy League.

This friend has stayed in touch and kindly sent books in Spanish that she finds in garage and library sales (Spanish novels were notoriously expensive pre-Amazon). The effort to stay in touch has definitely been more on her part than mine. For a while I was great about writing hundreds of Christmas/ Hanukah/New Year’s cards but I’ve really dropped the ball in the last five years! Her husband tracked me down (google shrinks the world) and invited me to their oldest’s Bat Mitzvah. I hoped to attend but it fell in the midst of a work crunch at a job I hated. That I would leave the job a few months later tells me in the future, always err on the side of friendship when faced with a career/friendship choice. So, since I left the West Coast, I’ve not seen her, though she has sent photos of her beautiful daughters.

It’s funny, ours was a friendship that survived the near impossible divide of singledom and married-with-children but a coast-to-coast distance nearly killed it. Maybe had we met during the worlds of email. I hope she knows the degree to which I value her friendship and what her inviting me to join the book club did for me.