Mrs. G. believes it was derf Beth who requested we give this 40-year-old, 6'1" fox (who is always welcome in Mrs. G's hen-house) a place of honor in our male objectification bakery.
Mrs. G. is replaying this post because it is one of her favorites and it popped into head
Tuesday when she saw a teenage girl with her thumb out, hitchhiking. This isn't something you see much anymore as most of humanity has figured out a free ride to Milwaukee isn't really worth it if it leads to Jeffrey Dahmer's Cuisinart and deep freeze.
Mrs. G. looks forward to reading your answers to the question at the end as most of us have been in that spot which makes the hairs on the back of our neck stand up and we know we are in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Photo by Kevin courtesy of the Flickr Commons
Be it Venial or Mortal (there's no escaping Original), we've all got secrets -- light, dark, funny, sad -- worth bringing to light. The act of confession can be liberating, mollifying and entertaining. Contrition? Repentance? A shot of Tequila? That's your call, sister.
Many of you might remember Mrs. G's strife and conflict with her book club: how they unknowingly humiliated her with what is now known as The Yankee Candle White Elephant Incident and how one time the group unanimously agreed that the novel Mrs. G. chose was the worst novel in the club's eight year history—some of the women said they had to put the novel in a drawer just so they didn't have to look at it.
In four years of high school, Mrs. G. was never assigned a novel written by a woman (she read Jane Eyre, Pride an Prejudice and Little Women on her own time).
Imagine her surprise when she went to college and discovered so many female authors existed.
Mrs. G. has to confess that she rarely reads male authors. No offense, but she's had her fill. Jonathan Franzen alone is enough to inspire her to crash her car into the Ivory Tower in which he claims to reside.
Books she read in high school:
Mayor of Casterbridge (eh)
Jude the Obscure (just hang me now)
The Stranger (what the what?)
No Exit (interesting)
Tess of the D'urbervilles (liked it--at least there was a woman in it)
Our Town (loved)
Of Mice and Men (sobbed)
Red Badge of Courage (eh)
The Great Gatsby (fine)
Lord of the Flies (ugh, ugh, ugh)
The Scarlet Letter (liked)
The Grapes of Wrath (loved)
Great Expectations (loved)
Catcher in the Rye (eh)
Romeo and Juliet (young love...how can you lose?)
Call of the Wild (eh)
The Importance of Being Earnest (awesome)
The Jungle (thumbs down)
How about you. Did you read women authors in high school? If so, who were they?
“When a woman starts to disentangle herself from patriarchy, ultimately she is abandoned to her own self.”-Sue Monk Kidd, Dance of the Dissident Daughter
The Wheel of Power and Control is like a wagon wheel. Physical and sexual violence are the metal rim around the edge. The spokes are all the other ways an abuser gains control—threats, emotional abuse, minimizing, using children, etc. Something like 1 in 3 women are going to be victims of domestic abuse, but I would guess that every woman in her lifetime experiences someone who uses these techniques to gain control over them.
When Mrs. G. was 19 or 20, she took a summer job at Susan's* Natural Macrobiotic Deli in Venice Beach. The fact that her shift started at 4am didn't bother Mrs. G, because she had the afternoon to sit on the beach and read trashy novels (a beach edict unless you have been living under a bridge). There were only four people on staff (including Susan) because the industrial kitchen was very small. There was a place for everything, and to duck Susan's wrath, everything had damn well be in its place.
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