strong women, talking babies and bum phucks

Woman and Child is back. Yay!

And posting about good, strong women who age out of the nicey-nice, takey-care of everybody but me, phase. And the good, strong men who love us.

And posting a nod to the "totally brilliant humour coming out of the U.S." in the form of talking babies in advertising.

Since this is one of the few commercials I will do a mad-grab for the remote, risking a herniated disc and a twisted intestine in order to de-mute so as to catch the latest baby with 'tude, I thought I would post this E*Trade clip for all to enjoy.

It's so much funnier in it's full-wide version rather than this chopped off one but it's your choice.

I don't know about your motives for gawking at tawking, wisecracking babies, but think I will look at this clip whenever I need a break from the agonizing coverage of the BP Gulf disaster.

Hang in there Louisiana, my mother's motherland. Katrina did not break your spirit and neither will this.

And BP? Stands for Bum-Phucks.

You can show your support by participating in Deb on the Rock's Love the Gulf Blog Carnival.

forever young

I am slowly recovering from a Fab50 reunion with six of my closest girlfriends from high school, all graduates during the late 70's.

When I mentioned this visit to people, I was met with incredulous looks.

High school? You're still friends with girls from high school?

I do realize that for some people their best-friends-for-life were met in college. For others, as the psychology department head told we incoming graduate students, this would be the place where sacred, lifelong friendships would form.

But for me? It's always been my high school buds. No question about it.

I was really lucky that way. I moved to a new area the summer before my 8th grade year. A few weeks before school started, two nervous, 13-year-old girls knocked on my front door to meet me. The mother of one of the girls made them introduce themselves, I was to find out later. It was probably more our of nosiness about the new family in town than genuine concern for my wellbeing. But whatever the reason, these two girls became my friends and introduced me to a larger group of girls who became some of the best girlfriends I could ask for.

I've met many friends since then who have become very good friends. Excellent friends. Cherished friends. We relate in a way my high school friends and I don't, or can't, or won't ever relate.

But there's something singularly special about hometown friends. All the shared experiences, a shared larger network of friends and towns people, memories of some of life's most difficult heartaches.

Over this past weekend, here we all were, gathered in my home, the first time a few of them had even been to Texas. All of us 49 or 50 years old. (Come think of it, only ONE of us was actually 50. Poor woman. The rest of us will remain forever 49).

But here's the remarkable thing. As I looked at my friends sitting around my living room, or on my back porch with the sunlight fading, or on a river bank cooling our feet in the spring fed water, I was taking them all in.

I saw not their crow's feet, nor their varying shades of color enhanced hair hiding the gray, nor their extra-padded midlines.

What I saw were laughing teenagers. A seventeen year old running beside me during a field hockey game. A young woman chugging down her first beer and wincing at the god-awful-taste-of-it. A girlfriend crying over a boyfriend betrayal, the first of many.

Over the past recent years, when I have met someone new, someone my own age, I would see a middle-aged woman.

But my childhood friends? The years drop away in an instant. Disappear. Gone. In each other's company, for just a weekend, we are ageless, timeless, forever young.

my stolen screenplay

Rachel is thinking about writing a screenplay. In a recent post, she shares some of her screenplay ideas and asks if her readers have ever had a thought of writing one.

I'm one of those aspiring screen writers who fall under the following category: Think-I-Can-Write-One-for-a-Brief-Exhilarating-Moment-After-Seeing-a-Really-Great-Movie.

The type toward whom authentic screen writers feel complete and utter contempt.

My inspiration, as self-aggrandizing as it is, is likely to occur after I watch movies steeped in emotionally-driven dialog. Especially dialog between women.

Discussing men.

And the plight of women.

As their plight relates to the men in their lives.

Walking and Talking was one. And Lovely and Amazing was another (Alert!! Young Jake Gyllenhaal sighting in the trailer). And Friends with Money, a third.

Or, apparently, anything written by Nicole Holofcener. And starring Catherine Keener.

Because I just now googled Nicole Holofcener and discovered that she wrote all three of these movies. I just love how smart I feel with google and imdb in my back pocket.

So yes, periodically, in a temporary state of half-delirium sprinkled with a fine layer of narcissism, I have been known to consider writing a screen play. But that's as far as it has ever gone ever needs to go.

I did talk with a friend once, at some length, about an idea I had: Women gifted with the power of climbing inside the brains of their male lovers. What would we find? Would we be flattered?

Or horrified?

Or horrified by the brand of flattery?

So wouldn't you know, a couple months after this screenplay-idea conversation with my friend, the Mel Gibson / Helen Hunt movie came out, What Women Want. You know, the one where he plays a womanizer and electrocutes himself trying to put on pantyhose and as a result is suddenly able to act read the minds of the women around him.

I am not kidding. About two months after my incredible idea for a screenplay.

And upon seeing the trailer for this movie I thought, Gah! They stole my idea!

Or, the male corollary of my idea.

And my thoughts ran toward, now when I try to publish my screenplay that I haven't even written one line of nor had a single moment's training in the how-to-of, the producers I present my idea to are going to be all, you so stole that idea from Mel Gibson.

So much for my screen writing career.

How about you, reader? Ever had an idea for a screenplay?

it's about that time again

The summer is off to a running start between a busier than usual work schedule and kids with busier than usual comings and goings. No time to catch my breath much less catch up on all of the blogs I've been sorely neglecting. I expect more downtime in July but I'm not making any promises.

So far we've had afternoons of swimming at West Enfield, Deep Eddy (below) and Barton Springs Pools. Swimming is not an option, but a necessity, in these June "we've already hit 100 degrees" temps.

The oldest pool in Texas, Deep Eddy Pool is located close to downtown. Like Barton Springs and Enfield Pools, Deep Eddy is spring fed, making for an ultra-refreshing dip. It's also a great place to people watch and catch the latest trends in men's fashionable summertime headwear:

This weekend? We're beating the heat with our annual girls-plus-kids weekend trip for the second best kind of poolside relaxing, here.

And this year I'll be packing the prickly. Normally reserved for martyr syndrome intervention, I'm feeling the need for a little self-administered liquid therrapy.

Find out how you, too, can beat the heat with a pink prickly pear margarita, here.

I will add a major, energy saving modification. The pears can be frozen in the freezer, taken out the morning of your therrapy appointment, placed in a plastic container and left to thaw in your fridge. Retrieve a few hours later to find the dark purple juice oozing from the pears, ready to be strained and poured into the drink of your desire. Much easier.

all I want for christmas

Massage chair.

Time saving tip: scroll to 1 minute 05 seconds.

feel em, baby

You know you want to.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Do your share for healthy breastesses by visiting Monkeys and Princesses. She is having a giveaway so that she can giveaway more bloggy income to breast cancer research.

Give up more than the obligatory click so she can give up more to the cause (meaning, check out a few of her other posts).

You've got until October 31st! Now get over there and GET FELT UP!

steel thighs, bad skin and hag hand

I went to Huffington Post the other night to read my favorite author and now political contributor, Erica Jong. She was talking about her disappointment that Hillary lost, lamenting the role sexism played in bringing Hillary down:

"I want to believe that America has moved beyond violence and racism and maybe we have. But I thought we had moved beyond sexism, and this campaign proved me wrong. The petty woman-hating jibes, the ageism, and the physical mockery have not been easy to watch."

Meanwhile, as I'm reading this, out of the corner of my eye I see the right hand panel of the Huffington screen -- a picture of the face of a woman with unsightly skin. I think it must be a meth addict. I scroll over and discover it is Amy Winehouse. The article talks about Winehouse showing up at her husband's court hearing (he's been in jail) but its about her bad skin . I hadn't heard any updates on Winehouse since the news of her going into rehab (maybe it IS the skin of a meth addict) so I was curious. The article talks a little bit about the court hearing but mostly it's an excuse to show everybody how ugly her skin is and how she's trying to cover it with make up. It bothered me. The woman is coping with her husband in jail and she gets close-ups of her bad skin splattered all over cyberspace. Nice.

Then a little later that same night I was following some other link and stumbled on a blog post entitled, Hag Hand. Its a picture of Sarah Jessica Parker's hand looking old and wrinkly as she reaches to sign an autograph. What is the universe trying to say?

These last two examples are entertainers, of course. But it happens to politically powerful women often enough. Too often for coincidence according to communications researcher Erika Falk, PhD in her book, Women for President: Media Bias in Eight Campaigns.

In particular support of Jong's Hillary point, ABC News asked, Is Clinton Scrutinized About Her Looks Too Much? back in January.

And who can forget Katherine Harris? The media had a field day skewering her makeup in the 2000 Florida election debacle.

The media's double standard in focusing on Harris and other prominent women's appearance was noted by Caryl Rivers, contributer at Women's e News who notes that "men can look like unmade beds and that fact goes unmentioned, while the bodies, hair and makeup of women receive intense scrutiny."

So I certainly agree that sexism is alive and well, undeniably where physical appearance is concerned, and particularly salient in election politics, which matters.

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The underlying message to women is "if you're not attractive, you have no worth." Or, "we'll keep you in your place one way or the other" and focusing on physical attractiveness (or the lack of) is one way to maintain the status quo of male power.

women helping women

Inspiring. A program run by women for women, single moms receive training and job placement in higher paying and male dominated skills such as welding, pipe fitting, and copy machine repair. Where indicated, they receive psychological counseling. Better yet, supportive friendships are forged among these struggling moms so that they have each other to lean on. Read about it here. Or visit their website, Climb Wyoming. And thanks to my friend M for sending the link.