Happy Birthday to Me

I'm celebrating my birthday--fifty-five--today in all the ways that make me feel happy and loved and grateful to my family and friends.  

Sex Matters

In my last post, I knocked breastcancer.org for their Victorian-age advice to breast cancer survivors who experience medically induced post-menopausal problems with sex, difficulties that many menopausal and post-menopausal women will deal with in varying degrees when their estrogen fuel tank is running on fumes.  But breastcancer.org added a new blog called Sex Matters by Dr. Michael Krychman, an GYN who specializes in the challenges of breast cancer survivorship.  Here's solid and savvy information.  It's about time.

Sex Matters
https://community.breastcancer.org/blog/category/sex-matters/

Things That Make You Go WTF?

So, I'm working on an article about breast cancer survivorship and sexuality, the inherent sexual problems which come from being hit by medical menopause at a hundred miles an hour, and I found this on www.breastcancer.org, titled Meeting Needs In Other Ways, which suggests how to pass your time if your sex life isn't firing:

*  Fantasy can enrich your life.  Countless women read to fill the vacuum (romance novels are enormously popular).
*  Join a book club, a church or synagogue, or a group that meets to discuss investments, movies, or local politics.

They also suggested shopping's retail therapy.  There's always shopping!

Now that we are surviving this evil disease, we need better information, better than try reading Fifty Shades of Gray, or empty your checking account at the mall, to manage the consequences of breast cancer's treatment.

See you at the WOMAN magazine booth at the October 18th STRIDE event!

Deb

Feminine Strength

Take a minute and check in with your body, your temple, the casa for your soul.  How does your body feel right now?  Strong?  How might it feel a few years from now?  What are you doing to keep your body strong, strong enough to do all of the things you want to do with your life, your one wild and precious life? - Mary Oliver's elegant verse.

Forget about what you weigh or how you think you look, and especially that quote by Wallis Simpson,  women can never be too rich or too thin.  No one even remembers her any more; they only remember her self-centered, narrow-minded view of her skin and bones life.

How do you feel in your body now?   How do you want to move through your life five years from now?  Ten years?  Twenty?  What kind of role model will you be for the young women in your life?

I wish I'd said some of these things to one of my favorite gal pals when she told me she'd gained too much weight.  I always think of the right words, what I should have said, on the way home or maybe as late as the next day.  She said she has gym equipment at home, but she doesn't use it.  She likes to eat.  She feels guilty about all of these things.

I said, "Try Jazzercise--it's so much fun," even though I knew I'd get the eye-roll.  Every time I say, Jazzercise, I get the you've-got-to-be-kidding-me look.  You'd think I'd said, "Try dancing naked at a strip club," which is probably a good workout, too.

Then she said, "I can't learn all of those dance moves," and I roll my eyes.  What I heard is, "I can't learn new things," which is a shitty thing to tell yourself.  New patterns and rhythms are good for your mind and music is good for your soul.

I'm not selling Jazzercise; I'm just saying find a fun way to stay fit and feel strong.

I'd rather be a strong women than a starve-myself-skinny bitch.  I like knowing my legs can kick me through the ocean on snorkel trips, and stride across Walmart's superstore in my real life.

So get out there and be strong.  Be a role model for everyone around you.  Oh, and have fun!

We're not going to be good girls and take our medicine anymore. Dr. Susan Love. Report card on what we need to cure our women..

http://blog.dslrf.org/?p=1771

(please click on link above)

"Wow!  You have pink hair!" 

"Is your pink hair real or fake?"

"You must be a rebel."

"Are you an artist?" 

These are some of the words people say to me about my hair.  A year ago, I dyed a small strip of my hair pink--scorching hot bubble gum pink--for Pink October.  I followed a prodding impulse to find a way to show that I am a member of the pink tribe.  I am a breast cancer survivor.  

Since I'd lost my hair during chemo, coloring a bit of it pink made sense to me.  I thought it might open the door to conversation and awareness, opportunities to remind other women about breast health.  

It's not enough pink hair to start a rebellion.

When October passed and it was time to lose the pink, I couldn't do it.  I stayed pink for Christmas, for my last writing residency in January of 2013 in Oregon, and now I own it.    

I get some strange looks.  The pink's become so much a part of me that I sometimes forget it's there.  One time a school teacher told me that children are not allowed to wear any unusual hair color during the school year.  I told her that it's a sad world when children aren't permitted to express themselves.  Smirk.  

Pink attitude for artists and rebels and everyone in the tribe.

     

In case you've forgotten ...

TROOPERS GO PINK FOR OCTOBER

Maine State Police car license plates for October 2013

 I'd like to pull one of these troopers over and give them a hug.

Here's the official 411:

NEWS ADVISORY from the Maine Department of Public Safety from Spokesman Steve McCausland:

[On Monday, Maine] State Police will unveil a new license plate to coincide with “Breast Cancer Awareness Month.”  Col. Robert Williams, Chief of the State Police, and Sgt. Michael Edes, President of the Maine State Troopers Association, will hold a news conference  at 1pm Monday at the Maine Department of Public Safety in Augusta. The plates will be displayed on every marked State Police cruiser during October.

On every state police cruiser!  Did you hear that?
Let me know if your state is doing the same!
Now, about Texas ... .

VANITY CHER

http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-3445_162-57604026/cher-speaks-her-mind/

When I was fifteen, I wanted long, glossy hair and a flat stomach like Cher.  Today I'm 53,and although I don't care as much that her hair is still glossy and she probably has a flat stomach, I couldn't stop myself from longing for a smooth neck like Cher's.

And her face.  Cher can turn back time.  She's 67.  (Hillary Clinton is 66).  

I watch CBS Sunday Morning in the same way that some people go to church except I'm still wearing my PJs.  But during today's "Cher Speaks Her Mind" segment I found myself mesmerized by her in the very same way that I'd sit captivated all those years ago, watching The Sonny and Cher Show, and later The Cher Show.

And though she has more plastic in her face than the Tupperware factory, I can't not like her.  She's out-spoken and feisty, a legendary performer.  Moonstruck is one of my favorite movies.  I'm not a Cher hater, not at all.

I just can't come to grips with her face.  And that neck.  I get tangled in our culture's unrealistic aging expectations - we all do.  I get a mild dose of it now and then when I worry that maybe at mid-50 fabulous is no longer attainable, or at least not without the help of lasers, needles, and knives.

I can't say that Cher is a strong woman.  She's too vane, and won't age with dignity like my brave women heroes or strong women like you or me.

Bic Pens for Women - Ellen's Feminist Take

"Congratulations!"

That's the typical response I get when I say, "I'm a breast cancer survivor."

Honestly, I don't know what to say back to these well meaning people with their tap water cool emotions other than a mildly bewildered thank you.  While I know people feel discomfort when they hear the word cancer, and maybe they aren't certain of what to say, I think congrats! is reserved for special occasions, not survival of a serious health crisis.  

Congratulations is the thing we say to people who celebrate special occasions like  anniversaries, college graduations, and new babies.

Example:

 "My book got published!" "Congratulations!" (Where's the party?)

"My daughter's getting married!"  "Congratulations!" (She's off the payroll!)

"I won 3rd runner up in the Miss Hurlburt Field contest!"  "Congratulations!" (What the hell is a Hurlburt?)


When I say "I'm a breast cancer survivor," I'm saying that I have seen my mortality in the mirror, felt raw fear, and suffered.  Also, that I looked like a Q-Tip for a year with my bald head and skinny body.

 I'm saying I fought to stay here on this patch of the planet with my beloved family, my cherished friends, and my darling doggies.  Too, I am sharing a moment of our mortal condition, a reminder of our vulnerability, and how quickly circumstance can change our lives for good or ill.

I'm telling people that my every thought and action tumbles through my every moment is precious filter like laundry through the rinse cycle.

If you told me, "I survived an IED explosion in Afghanistan," I hope that I would take your hand, look in your eyes, and say, "I'm really glad you're here today."

"I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,

And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk

Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,

But dipped its top and set me down again.

That would be good both going and coming back,

One could do worse than be a swinger of birches." - Robert Frost

You know how people are always telling us we have to become willow trees in order to survive a tempest, to bend and sway and be all laid back and loose, like we'd smoked a pound of pot or something?  Otherwise, we'll snap.  Or at least that's what all the willows say.  

I say bullshit.  I'm never going to be a willow tree.  I'm a hardwood.  Type A control freak with leaves that tremble when the wind whispers.   Doom and gloom with a mix of optimism.  A good life storm will take me down and keep me down, "You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen," says Frost of birches.  

But birches don't break.  They bend in a storm without getting all willowy about it.

Painting by Kimberly Kiel

Year of the Snake

Year of the snake!  That's what I say aloud to most everything: the fiscal crisis, my pal Wendser's new career choice, another friend's move from the Pacific Northwest to the non-Pacific Southwest, the plumbing problem with my bathtub.

I say it more like a validation of the challenges and changes we are all picking our way through, but also to provide a more visual, creative, even spiritual way of thinking through problems, one that is more self-aware than something like "why does this shit always happen to me?"  (Why does this victim mentality seem so familiar?  Hmmm.).

I held a snake, a boa, when I visited Jamaica.  The boa was beautiful, very Bob Marley, an every-little-thing-gonna-be-alright kind of snake.  Bob was heavy around my neck, a smooth muscle, very focused and Zen.  He stretched his head toward his keeper with a kind of strength my core will never know, and his body followed. He wished himself to the place he wanted to go like a leap of faith.

I've thought about change and rebirth in the way Bob Marley the Boa might think of shedding skin, in the way of growth and making himself new.

Ancient Chinese wisdom says the serpent is feminine, represents wisdom.  Year of the Serpent is a  time of seeking, planning, and change.

I've thought about the serpent's strong connection with the earth, the graceful way she moves.  She's focused on a destination, but moves circuitously, sometimes laterally or curls her way past obstacles with immense flexibility, and what seems to be an elegant belief system like faith that  every little thing gonna be alright.

Need a Man Update, too?

Feel the steam and dream the dream, and keep those breasts healthy.  Here's the boyfriend in your head, your man reminder, refreshed, courtesy of rethinkbreastcancer.com.  This app is available free from iTunes and Android.

Cougarlicious!

A Couple of Things is not responsible for hot flashes or spontaneous hot man hugging, but we will take credit for raising your breast health awareness.

Have fun out there!

Need a Man?

Warning:  this man moment may cause hot flashes, steamy thoughts, and an urge to hug a hot guy.

Here's a Man Reminder to give your breasts a little TLC (Touch, Look, Check).  Watch the video and then go to www.rethinkbreastcancer.com to learn more about breast health.  This website supports all women, and is geared to younger women's awareness.  I've added it to my cougar prowl list.   

This breast cancer awareness, um, tool is available through iTunes and Android--FREE.  

Have fun out there and feel your boobies!  

What's Your Intention?

(Oprah in Calgary, January 22, 2013)

     So when Oprah said that you have to know what your intention is in every interaction, especially in tough conversations, I had a walloping Aha! moment.  I thought of interactions with friends and family, the times I'd gone along to get along and then later found myself regretting agreements I'd made.  Or worse deciding not to say how I felt and later resenting someone because I wasn't candid, I wasn't honest, I did not say what my gut intended.

     Saying how you feel or where you stand sets a boundary and we loves/hates them there boundaries, I'll tell ya.

     But boundaries are good fences.

     Oprah gave an example of a moment when her friend, Stevie Wonder, asked her for money for one of his charities, one of many friends who ask for $$$$ from the Oprah National Bank.  She admitted that, in the past, she always gave in to him; she always gave him the money despite her already long list of charities she supports.  But this time she didn't want to.  So by sifting through the "what is my  intention stuff," Oprah realized that her intention was she really wanted Stevie Wonder to like her.   Oprah told Stevie no and Stevie Wonder still likes her.

     Celebrities - whatever, right?  Yeah.

     However, I'm finding the process of realizing or admitting my intention in many situations is challenging as hell, and the realizations, if they come, can be rather profound, a real Aha! moment.  Tough situations come and it's good practice to first understand what my intention is for my relationship with that person.  Even if it doesn't go well, I know that I've at least been honest with myself.

     Your intentions will lead you to better, healthier relationships.  Good luck out there.

   

Let's make Newtown the Last Town to Suffer the Deaths of Children

This is enough. Not that it wasn't enough with Columbine, Virginia Tech, the day last week when my niece texted me that she was in lockdown on her school's campus, not that it isn't enough any time any killer points a gun in a child's face, but this, folks, is it, and we cannot rely on the Fiscal Cliff People, the politicians who we've been begging to protect our children from murder. 

Somehow this shooting feels heavier than all of the other school shootings, or maybe it is the culmination of all of the school shootings, but it looms large, bigger than the murder of JFK, MLK, it hurts more than the loss of the space shuttle Challenger, the Columbia, because it is enough. We have to stop this and I think that must be done at a community level because we can no longer wait for the politicians to get their shit together.  

If you don't get your back up today, well then you're probably a boneless chicken.

Erma Bombeck wrote a column called, "The First Day of School," on September 3, 1981, which she said could also be titled, "Confessions of a child entering school for the first time who according to the adults has "nothing to worry about."  Bombeck narrates the child's fears through a child's voice--Donald--where he says, "I'm just a little kid, but maybe I'm smarter than I think I am.  At least I know better than to tell a five-year-old kid with a loose tooth who has never been out of the yard by himself before that he has "nothing to worry about.""  What would Erma Bombeck write today?  What do we now tell our children before we send them off to school?

We are going to have to solve this one ourselves, each community, with our time and our presence and our prayers.  Communities all over the United States must come together to protect their--OUR-- children.  Maybe we need to establish a neighborhood watch-style volunteer security system for each of our community's schools.   

And for our children's sake, and especially for Newtown's children, let's get rid of the automatic rifles.

Good Reads

Just in time for Christmas and all December holidays, Deb's Book Recommendations!  Ta-da!  Recently I found myself prescribing books like nutritionists prescribe supplements to under-nourished people, under-read folks I've met at holiday cocktail parties or at my yoga classes.

One corporate exec said he hasn't read anything but The Economist--for years!  He looked gray and worn, so I prescribed some colorful reading, Jimmy Buffett's Tales From Margaritaville.  My friend and poet Tom Wayman recommended this awesome book of fiction short stories to me a few years ago.    I took it with me on vacation; it was a great read and has become one of my treasured books--still has beach sand and margarita salt in it!  Buffett is a great story teller, the essence of a good writer, I think.  And, it's FUN.  Remember?  Reading is FUNdamental?

Another gentlemen, same party, told me that he secretly wants to write romance novels.  No, he was not hitting on me.  So I told him that I secretly want to teach a writing workshop, foster the writing talent of people like him, folks who have that writing urge nagging at them.  He said he likes Nicholas Sparks and after I threw up in my mouth a little bit, I told him I think he should aim higher than Sparks' novels (though I have to admit the last romance novel I read WAS Nights in Rodanthe, which was pretty good--oops).  I think I recommended Buffett's Tales novel to him, too, for its fun and quirky romances and great characters.

I recommended When Women Were Birds by Terry Tempest Williams (TTW) to my journaling yoga group.  TTW writes prose that sings like a song bird, and her meditative, almost journal-writing style makes for a breezy, spiritual experience and some good meditative thinking on women's voices.  Maybe we are all songbirds.  A line from a Nushu poem reads:

Beside a well, one won't thirst;
Beside a sister, one won't despair.

When Women Were Birds, pictured below, has a white cover, so its image doesn't show up well, but here it is.

Three people recommended the same book to me, and in my haze of end of term writing and reading work, I kept forgetting about it.  However, the day before I left to go on a retreat, I made a stop at the bookstore.  I wandered aimlessly, with no specific hunt in mind, only wanting a book to take with me for the weekend's downtown.  I stopped in front of a book case and there in the center of the shelves I saw a book titled, The Artist's Way.  Something about it seemed familiar, so I bought it.  Turns out it's that three-times recommended book.  Turns out it's a course on finding, restoring, embracing your creativity.  It requires a commitment to writing 3 pages a day.  I've knocked that back to one or two, and am trying to be open minded about some of its concepts.

Learning New Things Makes All Things New

The Japanese say that even the other side has another side.  I heard this somewhere along the way, maybe in a Yoga class.  Very interesting, especially when you think about the underside of things, or maybe how we look back at the end of a journey.  

I'm trying to do that now, turning things over and over to find the highlights from my journey deep into the heart of writing.  I'm presenting on my creative work in January and while I go about putting up Christmas decorations, I'm mining for remembrances, things I've learned along the way.  

The biggest lesson I've learned is that there is so much to know about writing and music and science and art and everything; we can never know it all.  The process of learning is continuous.  It's infinite.  

And I love that.  Learning new things makes all things new.  Maybe that's the other side of any achievement.  That's why I love learning.  

(yes, I decorated the birdie cafeteria!) :)  

If A Tree Falls ...

Middletown's citizens, residents and shop owners, gather to save their trees.  They have already lost funding for their local library, and now their trees have been cut to make room for more asphalt.  The woman activist is Louise Sukle, publisher and editor of the local paper, a second generation small business owner in Middletown.  See Monday's blog post for commentary.