Entries in Womankind (99)


Just One Question This Wednesday

UPDATE: OK, we'll put in a categorized "Derf Assist List" message board. Mrs. G. appreciates the input, suggestions and hopes to have this accomplished in the next four weeks.
Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, it's at the end of your arm, as you get older, remember you have another hand: The first is to help yourself, the second is to help others. 
 ~ Audrey Hepburn


Mrs G. has been moved and galvanized by all the comments on this post and she is not going to allow the notion of helping each other achieve desires, tiny and huge, to fizzle out as the post moves down the page into the mess that is her archives.

Any suggestions on how we should organize this info so that bonafide dream filling ensues? Judging from what many of us would like to accomplish, we'd better get busy, like today busy.

We're going to make this real, right?



The Bane of Insomnia: The Good-for-Nothing of the Night or Fifty Shades of Suck


Mrs. G. remembers reading a biography on Bill Clinton that described him as a chronic insomniac who did some of his best work in the wee small hours of the night...

Click to read more ...


ode on a perimenopausal limb or alternately titled skirting wide, wide hormonal margins

It is 3:44am and Mrs. G. woke up two hours ago, drenched, clammy with sweat and cruelly ripped from a dream involving she, Angelica Houston and avocado green shag carpet. She rolled out of bed, took a cool shower, slapped on another round of Mitchum (she can no longer skip a day) put on a fresh, cotton nightshirt, crawled back in bed and tried to go back to sleep.

And then she got back up. And then she laid back down. And then she got back up. This is the rational portion of the ode. The part you could humorously share with your co-workers or church ladies or foster-children of Silence and slow Time. Here's the part of the ode you should probably keep to yourself if you have self-respect or a need to be taken seriously when the situation demands it.


When Mrs. G. got out of bed for the third time, she grabbed a bag bowl of Barbara's Cheese Puffs and a diet Dr. Pepper, snuck off to her study/guest/escape from Mr. G's snoring room and wept through most of of the movie We Bought a Zoo, despite an abiding aversion to Scarlett Johanson and zoos.


And here she is, writing, simultaneously dead tired and wide awake. Twired.

Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all

It might be time for some TV Ambien Law & Order.




It...without the clown and the sewer*


You know it's harder than Mrs. G. thought to sustain a blog without relying on the daily business of motherhood, because of course her children, like yours, are the most interesting, humorous, sparkling individuals to walk the planet. When she appraises the value of her life, they are pure profit, undoubtedly her greatest investment. Period.

And this next sentence does not start with but...

There are moments, like now, when Mrs. G. struggles to find subjects revolving around her that seem of interest, worthy of being written, which isn't altogether a bad thing because she is not extraordinarily scintillating, no more than you...trust her on this. Plus she falls down a lot...not mentally or spiritually, like on the ground.  And it's crucial to know that what she's describing isn't tinged with self-deprecation or sadness or, really, anything beyond the reality of realizing she needs to be it. She's not sure this is going to make a lick of sense, because being it has stingy, greedy undertones. Mrs. G. hopes you get her it because it is about giving, to yourself and everyone around you. She is going to lie awake tonight worrying this will be read as narcissistic, vanilla, vapid pabulum but she'll roll the dice because, tonight, she is a gambling woman. 

Her goal is to be one every day. That's it.


*Thanks for the better title, Small Town Me


Good Shit: The Antidote to Shame is Empathy

Mrs. G's friend Laura linked this on Facebook and Mrs. G watched it three times. So much of what Brene Brown discusses is eerily relevant to what  is currently being shared and addressed in the Confessional Mrs. G. felt compelled to share it. Mrs. G. has always known this in her gut, but the amazing Ms. Brown beautifully articulates and validates the notion that simply being heard, simply hearing someone else say Me too is a powerful uniter.


Ann Said Mrs. G. Should Do This


Friday, Mrs. G. was running errands to prepare for a Saturday night of dinner and games with friends. Before she started her intentional odyssey of getting this and that, she stopped by her friend Ann's house to say hello. Mrs. G. mentioned she was in search of a table cloth to fit her enormous dining room table.

"I don't really want to spend the money but right now I'm using a duvet cover* as a table cloth and it just doesn't look right, it doesn't cover the entire length of the table and the sides hang nearly to the floor," Mrs. G. reported.

Then she and Ann went on to discuss how they don't really have champagne taste but they would like most of their shit** to just look and work right.

As Mrs. G. got up to leave, Ann insisted they look through her table cloth stash to see if she had one that would work for Mrs. G. As luck would have it she did, a pretty white one.

"Now is this a loan or a gift?" Mrs. G. asked. "Because white is playing with fire in my house."

"It's a gift," said Ann, ripping off the thrift store tag*** as she handed it to Mrs. G. "I might need to borrow it when one of the girls gets married."

"We can bleach it when that day comes," Mrs. G. agreed.

"Hey, I might be able to use that duvet cover as a duvet cover."

Ah, friendship. It keeps a woman sane, grounded, dignified

Ann said she thought Mrs. G. should ask her readers what they have used to "make do" in a pinch, and in Ann and Mrs. G's life a "pinch" can last anywhere from two hours to 14 years.

So Mrs. G. is asking: What have you used to "make do" in a pinch?


*Not the duvet cover in the giveaway

**Ann didn't say shit. She is more civilized in her use of language, meaning she, unlike Mrs. G, can be snarky without swearing.

***One of the foundations of their 10 year+ friendship is their mutual ability to squeeze blood out of a turnip. They don't have to squeeze turnips so much these days (knock wood) but it's in their DNA.


romance with a heaping side of veiled reality or 20 more years of folding someone else's laundry and fighting over the remote or run like HELL

Mrs. G. saw this ad on the sidebar of her Facebook Page.


Faithful Women Wanted



Men on Senior People Meet are complaining

there are not enough women registered.

They need female attention now.


Mrs. G's two cents: Get a dog. 


Hey, Let's Lighten the Load Even More Around This Joint



Tonight, March 6th, 2012, I wish ______________ would show up at my door with ______________ for dinner.