I Am This Woman

First of all, I’m biased. I love Craig Ferguson. I don’t know who is behind his commentary, and I’m thinking it’s him, with approval from the producers (David Letterman’s company) and the network (who might think that no one is watching). But I would like to thank all of them for letting Craig do pieces like this.

The one he did about going down to be sworn in as a citizen was so good, I DVRd it for my son to watch the next day.

This piece is about voting, and he sums up a lot of what I believe. (However, I think he’s a little hard on Animal Planet.

I have returned from Africa, and I am jet-lagged, -whelmed (I pendulum between under and over on an hourly basis) with my life here, and changed.

This might shock you, or not surprise you. If it thrills you, please do write to me or comment.

I am this woman, and I am a hunter.

For the last five years, I have worked for a hunting organization. I began my shift there at “hunting-neutral,” more in an effort to feed my family and keep a roof over our heads. As for hunting, my family did it, we had guns, it was no big deal. I was never invited along. But I understood that world, and I had a contribution to make. It was a good career move.

Fast forward to Hungary last year - I was invited to hunt and I got a gold medal deer in the forest on a beautiful day. My first shot in the field as a hunter at age 49, and it was a gold medal animal. I have the PDF of my published story on this hunt, but have yet posted it. I will later, or you can ask for it if you’re interested.

I went to Africa on safari for both photos and animals. I took my father’s rifle, as is, after 35 years of inactivity, and I hunted animals on foot using all legal and ethical means of fair chase. My take was one each: blesbok, red hartebeest, blue wildebeest, kudu, gemsbok, warthog, jackel and african wildcat. The later two were at the request of the farmer who was having predation problems among his pregnant springbok and sable population.

The photos are in this Flickr photoset.

I will blog about Africa from time to time, but I will probably write about hunting in another blog as yet to be developed. This is a part of me and my life, but not necessarily part of the future mission and goals of this blog (and The Next Big Things To Come).

Hunting, in my opinion and from my research, is something that people have done for centuries for various reasons. As with any ages-old technology in our modern/post-modern age, there are permutations and developments that push the envelope of certain sensibilities, and there is an active conversation among global hunters and shooters about these issues. But it is not a black and white world, and it continues to fascinate me, as does the world of material culture (handcrafts, creativity, cooking and ‘women’s work’).

I like the fact that my very presence in the field with a gun causes some paradigm shifting and confusion to some. “A woman hunter” is still a rather novel term, but I know there are many women who hunt and don’t care two figs for what people think (this is one of the benefits of turning 50).

But Artemis and Diana, goddesses of the hunt, are both embodied as women, as goddesses. Something to ponder.

As for Africa, I left a part of me there, just as I did with Hungary and Spain. There is much to be said for world travel, but I never knew that I would be so affected and changed by meeting people and sharing such a deep connection as hunting with them. It was amazing, wonderful, awful, aweful and life-changing.

I am this woman, and I am grateful for what I’ve experienced.

People often talk about the leap of faith, and act like it is a deliberate act. What I am finding is that one realizes that one has leapt after the fact, in mid-leap when you discover there is air between you and solid ground. Sometimes it’s an airy floaty feeling. Sometimes it’s a sinking “oh shit” feeling. But the most important part of it is not the feeling after the leap, but the feelings right before that next step. And the next step. Those two things in combination - the feeling, or intention, behind the step and the step itself – determine whether or not you float and fly, or plummet and think “oh shit.” (more…)

I made it through this day.

Today was the last day of a job I’ve had for five years, and change is tough. It’s for the better, in that it will be different. And this change has been two and a half years in the making. But change is, as I said, tough.

What helped the most was not the delicious carnitas burrito I had for lunch, but the love and friendship of at least twelve good and decent people who care about me…

What also helped was me winning at Monopoly today after I managed to put two houses on both Park Place and Boardwalk, and nearly cornered the monopoly on railroads. At one point, I was down to my last $8, but all it took was one opponent landing on Boardwalk and forking over $600 in rent. That was teh awesome.

Never underestimate the power of good friends who know your heart and remind you when you lose the way a little. Never underestimate the sheer brilliance of a good board game.

(34 of 50)

Yay me. I’m 50 today. Although it’s just another day, and I feel the same (ie, back pain if I sleep too long, need glasses to see computer screen, where’s my coffee?!, and all that jazz).

For today, visiting here in Austin, I am going to attempt a perfect day. One can never plan these things, but I’m going to hit a number of spots that I know to be awesome and cool and just regular deals, not completely FUNNED OUT AND SIX FLAGS EXTREME!

On my list, in no particular order, though I’m thinking about scones right NOW:

Texas French Bread

Waterloo Ice House

Threadgill’s

Hyde Park Bar and Grill

Hill Country Weavers

Zilker Park/Barton Springs

Lady Bird Lake bats (formerly Town Lake)

Toy Joy/Terra Toys

Bull Creek Park

and the hotel swimming pool, sauna and spa….

Spending some time nurturing the Writer Me

Hanging with my son and Miss Lucy

Brie and pepper water crackers

German chocolate cake

Sushi

Massage and hair salon visit

(and much more…)

Add to this mix my Knitting Guru, my cousin the atty-at-law, a handful of old friends, all my nieces and nephews, and it would be the perfect birthday. Alas, I think only the Guru knows I’m in town. Obviously, there is little chance that I will have the time, patience or desire to hit all those spots (as I type I can think of 10 more). I did the hanging out and drinking thing last night (to great amusement, and a slight headache this morning). I will also make phone calls to round up those far away that I do miss… and I have a STACK of unopened birthday cards/packages that I’ve been saving.

If we were going to make this a Perfect Day(tm), what I REALLY want is to be in Italy, Hungary or Spain… but that wasn’t to be this time. No worries, there are plans afoot for next summer already (which right now are leaning towards Paris and the UK. And why not! It’s all good. There is no magic to this one day, it’s how I live the days before and after it that matter… esp. the days that come after.

No, I can’t do it all today, and I may not be able to do it all in this lifetime. But I’ve got 50 more years to try (I am ambitious), and I’m not going to waste one day (though I am certain there will be some wasted hours in traffic, waiting rooms and the like, but I’m not even going to let THAT bug me!).

I am this woman, living the only life I’ve been given. And it’s not bad, people. Not bad at all.

(28 of 50)
Forgive me for just a moment, for not being fluffy, funny or pointless. This is a particularly important day for me, historically, as an American and as an Air Force brat.

Today is June 6. On a pretty day in summer, 64 years ago, a whole lot of men, young and old, landed in France for an invasion that turned the tide and eventually ended WWII. In the following months, American, British, French, Canadian, German, Italian, Spanish, etc. men and women died. Some survived and told us their stories, lest we forget.

However you feel about war, one cannot forget those hoardes of soldiers, sailors, marines and airmen who were cut down, some even before they were on dry land. Some of them were fathers and have children and grandchildren who remember. Some were childless, some married, some unmarried. There are some men who died, whose loved ones are now also dead 64 years later. They have no one to remember them.

But I remember. I was raised to honor their service and sacrifice, and to support the men and women and families serving in the military currently, regardless of my political and emotional feelings. My parents never missed any news coverage or speeches about this day. They watched with quiet tears in their eyes. They had lost friends, classmates, colleagues, neighbors; nearly everyone in their generation knew someone who had died there. They knew the magnitude of the day and taught us kids its importance. I remember. My brother remembers.

Remember them. Thank them. But really, just remember them.

Always with great intentions for writing posts, I think about my blog all the time. I eat at a restaurant and see an interesting/funny table. “I’ll blog that!” Then I forget.

When driving along, I see a bumper sticker or hear a song, and a confluence of ideas takes place. I think, “ah, that would be good to work out in a blog entry! I’ll do that when I get home.” Then I forget.

I have little notebooks in my purse. In the car. I have lots of pens. I like to shop for pens and notebooks. I browse websites with writing tools, writing books and writing advice. And yet, I can go for a month without posting in my blog.

Time to wake up. In fact, I am approaching a milestone birthday, and I have an idea. I may regret this in a few days, but here is the plan for waking up my creative spirit, for invoking the Muse(s) and beginning (continuing) my writing life.

“Fifty to Fifty” is the title I made up in the car. I toyed with “50 2 50″ or “Fifty2Fifty” or 50250 or “Fifty to 50″… but the gist is that I propose to write an entry a day, for the fifty days leading up to my 50th birthday. Which is June 15. That means I start on April 26, but since I plan to celebrate June 15 in a special way and may not be near a keyboard, I will start on April 25. Yes. That is my plan.

Since coming up with this creative inspiration, I have been listing (in my head) a number of topics. Will I have a subtheme? an agenda? I don’t know. All I know is that despite the arbitrary nature of the calendar and time, my brain and psyche somehow KNOWS about these birthdays. My 40th was fantastic. My online friends made that day amazing for me. And now I want to give back.

My 50th birthday will not be the big media event as was Oprah’s. I hope my hair looks good, but honestly I just want meet it however it comes. In haste, in abandon, in justice, in peace, in consternation, in revelry (or Ravelry!), in ceremony, in joy, in Austin.

I confess that I contemplated lying. Yes, 50 is a good year to start lying about my age, I thought. I rehearsed all the birthdates and age differences I’d have to adjust. I’d have to lie on a daily, cellular basis. I’d also have to forget stuff, like JFK’s assassination. Jim Fowler’s appearances on The Tonight Show. I’d have to get serious about plastic surgery.

No thanks. I’d rather redefine 50 for myself, for readers, for friends who are not yet there. So, just buckle in and play along, friends. It’s going to be a fun ride. 50 is the new 50.

Hi. We really only know each other online. But I think we have so much in common, more than is readily apparent. I was raised by a military wife, and learned well the lessons that military families must in order to survive.

I’m going to say some things that you cannot say because you are indeed a good military wife. Maybe you agree or disagree. Maybe you are pumping your fist in the air, or quietly disapproving. But I can say these things because I have no ties anymore, except by memory and loyalty. But I am on the “outside,” I’m a “civvie,” and while some military folks secretly sneer at me, I know better. As a civilian, I get to express some of the opinions that you hold, and hold private. (more…)