#SusieStrong – You’ll Never Walk Alone

Trials have a way of defining us as a person. Not the challenges in and of themselves, but the way we respond to them. Do we run and hide? Do we stand up and face them? Are we strong enough to weather the storms of life?

Some of the most inspiring people I know are those who have not only withstood the trails life’s sent their way, but faced it head on with grace, laughter and strength. But they rarely stop there. These living, breathing miracles take it one step further. They find a way to use those same experiences to help, inspire and give hope.

One of the coolest things about the internet, and blogging in particular, is the people you get to know along the way. It was through blogging that I had the pleasure of getting to know one of the coolest people I know. She has a zeal for life that can’t help but bring out joy and laughter in those she touches. Her Wild Rides have become notorious….from her Polar Bear Club Excursion to her Helicopter skiing to so many more adventures, she’s kept us entertained. Susie Lindau is one of those people who you can’t help but admire and enjoy watching as she attacks life.

Recently she was diagnosed with breast cancer. When she shared the initial news, on her blog post titled The Boob Report – Roadblocks and U-Turns my first thought was that I seriously hate cancer, followed quickly by my certainty that Susie would rise to the occasion with this disease just like she has every other adventure in her life. She’s just that kind of woman. What was more, she was smart enough to share the experience with her friends and let us all find our little ways to be there to love and support her through this time.

Most of you know that music is a medium I use to express my thoughts, and today is no different.

After Susie shared with us in her The Boob Report – Laughter Is The Best Medicine that she would be undergoing surgery today, one of her other awesome blog followers came up with the idea of showing her our support through our blogs. I was thrilled to participate. Susie is a constant source of inspiration to me! Doubt how badass she is? Read the links I left and see what I mean.

If you know Susie and would like to wish her a speedy recovery, please feel free to comment. If you don’t know her, but would still like to wish her well, I welcome you to do so and to check out her blog and see why she’s so well loved.

Here are a few other folks today who’ve joined in the campaign to cheer Susie on as she kicks cancer’s butt:

Gloria Richard

BrickhouseChick

Jess Witkins

Tameri Etherton

To close out, I’m posting a song that has always helped me feel strong and reminded me that the strong know when to lean on those around them.

 

 

Melting Pots, Ethnic Food and Language

I love that the United States is a melting pot. Today I found myself thinking about diversity and the many ways we can choose to embrace it. As a child born into a multicultural household (mother Asian, father WASP from the US) it has been important to me on a personal level to integrate and honor both cultures I represent.

For me, the process has been fairly easy. I was born a military brat and got the opportunity to travel with my family. Even better, my mom is an amazing cook who passed her skills down to her girls. The picture above is of a Filipino dish called pancit using rice noodles, veggies and chicken (though it can be done with other meats). Making this tasty Asian pasta for my Italian husband today was what put me on the path to this discussion.

I’ve enjoyed integrating our cultures through food, and so has my guy. As many of you know, he cooks, too. What’s funny is that he wasn’t exactly anyone’s idea of a culinary adventurer when I met him. He hadn’t even tried Chinese food, convinced he’d hate it. Too many childhood jokes about fried lice that he actually believed it. (And somewhere along the way he’d heard soy sauce was bug juice). Dating me changed that and opened his palate. (It’s amazing what guys will try to impress the girl.)

So, in our house these days, you could be treated to traditional American fare of pot roast or meatloaf or you might be served Asian fried rice or pancit….or even homemade ravioli or chicken cacciatore. The big regret I have is that I never learned my great grandmother’s Cornish pastie recipe.

But food is not the only blending I do. I’ve learned to merge my love of languages and music, too. I love that I can still remember a few of my favorite church songs in both Tagalog and English. Over the years I’ve even taught them to some of my friends. I enjoy the fact that I can still speak, read and write in both languages. My husband has even picked up some words and phrases over the years.

Which leads me straight onto a soapbox. As many of you have probably guessed, English is not my mom’s first language. Would you know it if you met her? Maybe not. She only has a hint of an accent. Why do I bring this up? Because there has been such a huge deal made lately about immigrants and their language choices that it’s had me shaking my head.

Why am I shaking my head? Because I sort of feel like we’ve brought some of these negative behaviors on ourselves. To be clear, I do believe that those who want US citizenship should be required to learn the language. I’m not saying to throw away or hide your primary language. In fact, I recommend you teach it to your children should you have any. I simply feel that if you decide to take up this country’s flag and the many benefits that come with it, the least you can do is learn the language. I believe this should be the case for whatever country you decide to reside in.

But here’s where we screw ourselves with our arrogance. We are notorious for going into other countries for vacations or business and demanding they speak English. Why? We are in their world, not ours. Is it any wonder why they get pissed off and return the favor when they come here?

We’re getting a taste of our own medicine, people!

The beauty of this country is in our diversity…and yes, there’s more than ethnics in diversity, but it’s what I decided to share today. If we were to take the time to understand and appreciate a few more cultures here within our melting pot, maybe we’d have a little less hatred and violence. There are so many cool and unique flavors to our many different cultures. I challenge you to try just one thing outside your cultural comfort zone and see what you learn.

Am I way off base with my little ramble? Have you had a really cool experience a little outside of your cultural box? What’s your favorite ethnic food?

My Battle With The Foot In Mouth Disease

My fantastically funny friend, Gloria Richard wrote a post yesterday entitled Ever Lost Your Brain’s Remote Control. After recounting several of her hilarious mishaps over the years, she challenged us to share some of our moments. As I sat thinking about the many idiot moments I’d had over the years I figured I’d share some of my own. Hey, turnabout is fair play, especially since I shared some of my friends’ more awkward moments in the past.

Those of us who tend to say what we think know that there is a hazard that goes with being blunt. For example, there was a young lady that I used to work with at a popular electronic retailer store. I was new, and she and I were pretty friendly. The weather had taken on a cooler edge recently, so when I walked in, I was wearing my black leather biker jacket.

It was a men’s jacket and I loved it…still do, actually. I was the first “real” gift hubby ever gave to me. Anyway, back to the story. As I came walking down this young lady’s department, she came over to say hi and the following conversation ensued.

Her (with a big grin and a nudge) : Hey there, Biker Bitch!
Me (with a grin and a wink) : Better watch your step or I’m going to make you my bitch.
Her (eye contact, not laughing) : Any time.
Me (blinking) : Um, yeah….

Oops! Yeah, I’d heard the rumors about her being either lesbian or bisexual, I just didn’t care. It just never occurred to me that a simple off the cuff response could create such an interesting ripple. Well, it confirmed the rumor if nothing else…LOL! Oddly enough, that moment helped to cement our friendship.

Unfortunately my talent for the awkward started much earlier. It’s the hazard of being a person whose mouth rarely stops moving. Sometimes we can be deliberately hurtful and regret it later. My “lesson learned” moment actually became my college application essay. Here’s the short version.

While we lived in the Philippines we had some live in help. A maid and a nanny. Hey, the dollar stretches quite well in third world countries. Anyway, as my mom is also Filipina, our servants were more like family and were treated as such. I was about 7 years old when my mouth got me into trouble.

Nanny (looking around at toys strewn all over the floor): Kitt!
Me (fake innocent look): What?
Nanny (pointing at all the toys): Put away all your toys or you’re not playing outside.
Me (irritated): Pfft! Your the maid. Isn’t that what we pay you for?
From somewhere behind me….
Mom (snarling): Kitt. What. Did. You. Just. Say?

Yeah…mom had walked up behind me and heard the whole thing. She was NOT happy. I got my butt whipped, had to clean up my toy AND I got grounded for the day. No bueno.

My sophomore year in high school there was a 4 day choral music festival held at a one of the private universities in Michigan, culminating in a concert on Saturday afternoon with the University Orchestra. The private high schools tied to this particular religion from the surrounding 5 states sent the top 2 singers from each section (Soprano, Alto, Tenor, Bass) to go to this event. It was a privilege to be chosen, and I was one of the 2 sopranos chosen to represent my school. We were put up in the women’s dorm and spent most of the time rehearsing songs in German (Haydn) and Latin with a couple of English ones thrown in for good measure.

As you can imagine, after a while we became restless. Several of us congregated in one of the dorm rooms early that Saturday afternoon waiting for the concert. Keep in mind, most of us were little suburban kids. I, being half Asian, was the closest we had to an ethnic mix in that room. To this day I’m not exactly sure how it started…all I remember was thinking I was going to die.

What had I done? I sang Whitney Houston’s “Greatest Love Of All”. And not in my normal voice. NOOOO. I was singing it at the top of my lungs, over enunciating each word with theatrical dramatics.

“I Buhleeve that children are hour fyuchaaaa.
Teech them well ahnd let them lead the waaaayyyy.
Show them ahl the beauty they possess insiiiiide.
Give. Them. A Sense of pride.
To make it easiahhhh!”

The girls were all in a fit of giggles as I belted it out….and then came the knock on the door. My singing stopped. We all looked at each other, eyes huge and praying… Why? Because late that night an all black university from Canada had come down for an event the following week and were staying in the rooms across the hall from us.

Of course, with my luck…it WAS, in fact, several of the very nice ladies from that university. Here’s what happened:

My traitorous friend: Uh, hello?
Nice lady: Hi girls, we heard someone singing from down the hall. Who WAS that?
(Yup! You guessed it. All hands pointed at me as I slowly turned around to face the women in the doorway.)
Me: Sorry about that.
Nice lady: Why are you sorry? We thought you sounded GREAT!!!!
Me (blinking while my friends all tried to hide their laughter): Um… Thank you?

And just like that, they were gone… Thankfully they hadn’t realized I was poking fun at the way a lot of divas overdramatize song lyrics. As my friends cracked up, I was mortified. Seriously. What if I’d really offended them? Sooo not my intent.

Then there was the time I met the Pittsburgh Steelers Pro Football Hall Of Fame quarterback, Terry Bradshaw.

Okay…so I’m unapologetically an Dallas Cowboys fan, but still. I love football and I respect the game. That’s one of the reasons that every time I think of this moment I want to hide somewhere. Why? Because my usual eloquence eluded me that day in a big, BIG way…making me sound like a total airheaded bimbo (something I hate).

So the back story? Mr Bradshaw’s brother has a home in the Sarasota area. He’d come to town for a visit only to realize he’d left his camera bag back at home in his foyer. What did he do when he discovered this error? Why, what every wealthy man does, of course. He showed up to the local electronics store with his dad at opening (when it’s least crowded) and replaced everything he’d left behind.

The guys in the store were dying to talk to him and ask for his autograph, but figured it would be easier to break that ice if they sent a female in. As I qualified and was the only woman knowledgeable enough about football and his HOF career, they asked me to go over and talked to him. I didn’t want to disrespect his privacy so I declined being used in this manner. Fortunately for them, he noticed several guys hovering and welcomed them over to get his autograph and offered the opportunity to any employee in the store who wanted it.

Once he gave permission, the guys let me know and I walked over to get his autograph before I left. Here’s how THAT went down.

Me (in a timid voice that was so unlike me the guys all blinked): Excuse me Mr Bradshaw. Would you mind if I asked you for your autograph?
TB (with a gentle smile): Sure thing, Sweetheart. Do you have anything for me to sign?
Me (holding up small brochure form): This?
TB: Why don’t we find something a bit bigger?
(Grabs a manual receipt form)
Me (while he’s signing): Thank you so much! (And then I made my big faux pas that made me want to commit seppuku) I just want to say, I really LOVE watching you and Howie (Long) on Sundays.
TB (Showing class all the way, put an arm around me): Aw, thank you sweetheart. We need more fans like you.

 

Why was that so mortifying? Because I was well aware of his Hall of Fame career and his 4 Superbowl rings…and what did I mention? His Fox Sports thing? OMG! Yes, that is my head you hear banging on my desk. Never mind that this incident happened nearly 10 years ago. I’m still mortified…. But I also still have this awesome autograph.

My Terry Bradshaw Autograph

Okay, enough of my verbal face plants…. What about you guys? Care to share some of your more awkward moments? If not, I’m open to you sharing the awkward moments of friends and family. And just so no one can question my Cowboy Fandom….Here’s a pic of me at one of them many Cowboy events I’ve been to… Hanging out with some Cowboy Legends

Tailgate in Big D with Hubby, Bill Bates, Me, Everson Walls & Kenny Gant

And here’s another one of me with my girls at a game at Cowboy Stadium.

At The Game

 

 

 

The Final Goodbye (A #MemorialDay Story)

Hey guys! In honor of Memorial Day, I decided to write a little story. As many of you know, I have very strong feelings about our armed services and those who serve. With the story, I included songs that I felt conveyed the sentiments of each moment. I hope you guys appreciate this small tribute to those we’ve lost who have guarded our freedom with vigilance.

He stood alone. As he gazed out at the white crosses that covered the beautifully manicured lawn he felt the weight of his 48 years drag his shoulders down in a way he never had before. It had been a long time since he’d been back to this place, and he’d hoped to never return.

“A parent should never outlive his child.” Grief scratching at his throat.

He blinked back tears that stubbornly refused to fall. Part of him clung to the image he had in his mind’s eye. Full of laughter and vitality, that precious dark head bent over to kiss his young wife’s distended belly, before he turned around to say goodbye. David promised to come home soon.

He shook his head as the pain threatened to suffocate him. Not like this. This had to be a bad dream. He just needed to wake up and everything would be okay again.

Unfortunately, the folded triangle of fabric pressed tightly to his chest told him everything was all too real. His bowed his head, fingers digging into the precious flag. Alone with his grief he dropped to his knees and cried out to the only person who could hear him.

“God, if you’re listening…this is too much. Almost more pain than I can bear! My boy was a good son, a great husband. He was going to be a great father. He loved you. Loved this country. He wanted so badly to follow in his grandpa’s footsteps. Did you really have to take him?”

The hand on his shoulder felt familiar. It had been decades since he’d experienced that touch. He looked up to find his father standing beside him. He wore the same dress blues he’d been buried in 40 years ago and he hadn’t aged a day.

“Dad…” he choked out, blinking, sure this was some sort of hallucination.

There was a wealth of understanding and regret in his father’s eyes.

“Hello, son.”

“I’m finally losing it, right? Hallucinating? A psychotic break caused by grief and stress?”

“No, son. You’re not. God heard you…. So did I. We’ve never been far away. When you called out, I asked him to let me go to you.”

Although none of this seemed real, he decided to go with it. Maybe he was dreaming. What harm could it do?

“It’s all so damned unfair, Dad!” he railed. “First you, then my son? Don’t get me wrong. I’m proud of him. Proud of you… But did the price have to be so high?”

His father wrapped strong arms around him, something he’d missed most of his life. He soaked in the comfort, gaining some strength before he let go. With a bolstering breath, he straightened his spine, threw his shoulders back and raised his head.

“I’m proud of you, you know.” His father looked at him with the same piercing blue eyes as his son. “I’ve watched you grow into a strong, honorable man. I know it wasn’t easy for you to let David join the service. After the way you lost me, it would have been all too easy to encourage him to go a different direction.”

“It wouldn’t have been right. Being a soldier was all he ever wanted.” He shrugged, his smile, bittersweet. “To be a hero, just like his Grandpa.”

“It may have served you better not to paint me with such a heroic brush,” his father laughed. “I appreciate that, by the way. The way you kept me alive in your heart. The way you shared me with your family. It meant everything to me.”

The man shook his head. “I didn’t do anything all that special.”

“Yes, you did,” his father smiled. “It may seem like nothing to you, but it’s what gave your son the courage to chase his dream. He knew the danger, but he also saw your gift. When his number was called, he didn’t worry. His son and wife are in good hands with you. He knows you’ll keep his memory alive, just like you did for me.”

“You’ve seen my David?”

Tears finally flowed, unchecked.

His father nodded. “Of course. You didn’t think I’d let your son get to heaven without a welcome party, did you?”

“He’s okay? My boy. You’ll look out for him, Dad?”

“Of course,” his father nodded his head. “He’ll be loved. Surrounded by family, both military and kin.”

With one more shuddering breath, he clasped his father’s hand and squeezed.

“Tell him, Dad.” He bit his lip as his voice broke. “Tell him I’ll watch over his family down here. I know he’ll be watching out for them with you. And please, tell him I’m so proud of him.”

“I will.” His father smiled one last time before fading away.

As he stood gazing out at all the soldiers that came before, he could have sworn he heard David whisper on the gentle breeze.

“I love you, Dad.”

Squeezing the flag to his chest, he nodded.

“I love you, too, son. I’m proud of you.”

Combining Laughter And Learning

Yesterday, my awesome new buddy Jess Witkins did a post called “Guilty Pleasures: Flashback Fun” inspired by Thoughts Appear’s  Movies Teach Us posts.  In it, she discussed the lessons that can be learned from watching the funnier movies. At the end she asked for examples, but I couldn’t do it! Why? Because I had too many movies floating around in my brain to narrow it down to just one. Instead, I decided to try my hand at it and see what you guys think. (I still had so many movies that I may have to do this in sections if you guys enjoy it as much as I did). 🙂

Real Genius

Lessons Learned:

• All schools for the gifted are located near beauty colleges, and they love playing with minors.
• Dry ice can be cut and used as coin in vending machines
• TPing a house is a lame prank. Assembling someone’s car in their bedroom…THAT’s a prank! Go big or go home!
• The best way to convince someone you’re Jesus when gas lighting a person is to tell them to stop playing with themselves.

 

Adventures In Babysitting

Lessons Learned:

• When your boyfriend calls on your anniversary to cancel because his mom is sick and he needs to care for her, he’s cheating on you.
• All kids know how to scale skyscrapers with nothing but rope.
• Cars always break down in front of frat houses.
• There’s only one rule when running from thugs in a bad neighborhood and you duck into the local bar. “Nobody leaves this place without singin’ the blues”.
• Thor is REAL!

 

Blast From the Past

Lessons Learned:

• If Christopher Walken is your dad, you’re doomed to an unusual childhood (possibly in a bomb shelter or Baltimore).
• In case of nuclear war, you must stay in your underground bomb shelter for 35 years (every household has one).
• Guys named Adam are destined to fall in love with girls named Eve.
• All guys that grew up in bomb shelters have manners, dance well and love Perry Como.

 

Exit To Eden

Lessons Learned:

• Somewhere in the Caribbean is a sexual Fantasy Island that specializes in D/s play.
• Everyone is sexy to someone. Just ask the guy who volunteered to sleep on Rosie O’Donnell’s floor.
• “The best submissives usually become the best Masters.”
• “Australian kink!” is a method for eating croissants-butter edge of bread, butter woman’s nipple, sprinkle cinnamon on edge of bread, sprinkle cinnamon on nipple. Guy nibbles on nipple, girl eats croissant.

 

Pump Up The Volume

Lessons Learned:

• If a guy is shy and chews Black Jack chewing gum, he must run a pirate radio station.
• Everything you need to set up a pirate radio station can be purchased at Radio Shack.
• The FCC won’t come after you for broadcasting illegally unless they get multiple complaints.
• If a bare chested hottie says “I’m not like you”, the best way to prove he’s wrong is to take of your shirt and show him your boobs.
• The truth is a Virus!

One of my all time favorite soundtracks is Pump Up The Volume. Combining Samantha Mathis & Christian Slater with Ivan Neville’s “Why Can’t I Fall In Love” was just….::fanning myself::

So what about you guys? What lessons have you learned from your comedies over the years? Did you enjoy this segment? If I missed a few lessons, share yours…because I tried to limit myself to 4-5 bullet points per movie.

Friendship, History and Howling At The Moon

Probably my first friend when I joined WordPress was the awesome Mae Clair. We “met” early on when I stumbled on her blog. After I commented, she was kind enough to respond and visit my blog in return. Back then I was pretty green, but she must have seen something in me because she kept coming back (and I kept stopping by hers).

Through these little visits we forged a bit of a friendship. I didn’t know much about her except that she was a writer and had recently gotten her manuscript accepted by Lyrical Press and was looking forward to being published for the first time. While I enjoyed her blog posts, especially her Mythical Mondays, I was a bit nervous about her book. You see, I wanted so badly to support her, but I wasn’t sure that her book was going to be my cup of tea. Don’t get me wrong… I’m a life long fan of romance. I adore supernatural stories (yes, that includes werewolves, vampires, Valkyries, demons and most of the other shifter/god related characters). My problem? I wasn’t sure about her leading man from the past. I wasn’t much into historicals these days. In fact, my leanings had taken a sharp turn towards the more explicit erotic romances, which this definitely was not! What if I read her book and didn’t like it? I worried for nothing. How foolish was I???

Mae’s book, Weathering Rock, was jam packed with all sorts of things that drew me in and kept me interested. Seriously. The opening scene had her heroine, a school teacher named Arianna Hart, nearly hitting a man on a horse with a car in the middle of a lightening storm…and not your usual kind of lightening. It was ball lightening! Odder still was the man himself! Handsome, muscled, but with a speech pattern that screamed old world (then again, so did his attire)!

The guy she hit was her hero, Caleb DeCardian, of course! His story is a bit of a mystery… He’s a man out of time…both literally and figuratively. He’s managed to travel from the Civil War era in the 1800’s into today and his nemesis has been following him and taunting him with killings that are steadily escalating. As if that weren’t enough to contend with, when the moon is full, he shifts into werewolf form!

With all the craziness in his life, he doesn’t have time for love! Plus, he’s got a deadly cat and mouse game going with his former best friend who is out to destroy him. Not to mention he’ll be going back to the past (though he has no clue how) once his mission is completed.

Does the book sound exciting enough for you yet? Now I’m not going to spoil the story for you, because I think you should go out and buy it, just like I did. It’s a very strong freshman effort by a wonderful lady from whom I expect great things! In fact, I can’t wait for her next one. Twelfth Sun will be launching on August 5th. Her teasing tidbits that she’s shared on her blog have had me hooked from word Go!

Have you read Mae’s book yet? What did you think? If this sort of story isn’t your cup ‘o’ tea, what do you like to read?

Where To Find Beautiful

With all the terrible sadness and tragedy of this last week, my heart has been a bit heavy. My thoughts have been with those in Oklahoma who are going through so much right now. My prayers have been filled with them and childhood and online friends who’ve recently been diagnosed with cancer.

I needed my heart to be soothed. To remember the good in the world. To be empowered and inspired.

Today I thought I’d share with you the things that have touched me….and hope that they speak to you, too.

Here’s some poetry from a young lady named Botlhale Boikanyo from South Africa’s Got Talent at the age of 11.

Next is Kellie Pickler and Derek Hough’s Freestyle performance Monday night on Dancing With The Stars. It brought tears to my eyes. The emotions were so clearly displayed. She bared her soul with that dance. (The song was gorgeous, too.)

My last addition is a song sung by Jotta A, a Brazilian boy. I believe he was 12 at the time of this particular recording. I think it might be from Brazil’s Got Talent. You can definitely tell English is not his first language as he mispronounces some words, but the heart of the song…the message…  He delivers that, loud and clear. He’s singing Chris Tomlin’s Amazing Grace/My Chains Are Gone.

Where do you go when you need to add a little beauty to your life? Have you seen anything that’s wow’ed you lately? If so, please share it with me!

Project Cliteracy

Recently, it was brought to my attention that the first ever International Clitoral Awareness Week took place from May 6-12. As it’s also National Masturbation Month, we figured it’s never too late to celebrate the clit. So, today, in honor of the clitoris, a few friends and myself put together a #ClitLove Blog Hop and Twitter hash tag party. There Will Be Prizes!

As most of you have figured out over time, my sense of fun can be a bit on the naughty side. It stood to reason that the tongue on bean humor from Jay & Silent Bob Strikes Back would be the perfect way to kick things off for me.

If there is one thing that seems to have been all over magazines geared to attract women it’s been the orgasm…and the zillion of variations with which women can achieve them (either solo or with a partner). Somewhere along the way the “Holy Grail” of orgasms became the G-Spot orgasm (never mind that there are those who think it’s like Santa and doesn’t exist). This got me thinking. Why, when we hear about women who’ve never achieved orgasm through intercourse, are we worrying about the hard to find one when we’ve got a little love button hidden in plain sight with nothing but a little hood for protection?

That pretty little pearl exists for nothing but a woman’s pleasure. In fact, it’s the only body part that functions purely for pleasure! A little shy, she needs a little coaxing to come out of her shell, but touch her just right and she’ll swell with beauty before detonating from the inside in shudders of pleasure and love juice.

Most self aware women are well aware of just how reliable that little bud is. In fact, “Clicking the mouse” is a reference to self pleasure through clitoral stimulation. Some of the most popular sex toys were designed with that tiny little pleasure part in mind from bullet and egg sex toys to butterfly panties (with remote) as made more popular by Katherine Heigl and Gerard Butler in The Ugly Truth.

The good news is that unlike the G-Spot, pretty much everyone seems to know where to find the clit….or at least the general vicinity. The better news is that this area, like women, can enjoy all sorts of different and versatile approaches to similar results! That means it takes most of the guess work out of it. Watch!

Getting any ideas yet? I know I am… As My friend and fellow blog hopper, August McLaughlin would say…I’m well on my way to a Girl Boner. Check out her what she has to say about The Highly Sensitive Clitoris. My darling friend, Ande Lyons from Bring Back Desire, cheers on all things that make a woman feel sexy and sensual. She, too, is participating with a post called Celebrating The Clitoris. Yolanda Shoshana, a new friend on Twitter who specializes in Courtesan Coaching and Clairvoyance joined the party with her post, Cheers To The Clit. Lana Fox wrote Freud’s Big Clitoral Snake and Angela Tavares who wrote Where Were You The First Time You Found The Clitoris at Go Deeper Press.

You can also join us today on Twitter, using the hashtag #ClitParty. For a chance to WIN an erotic book from Go Deeper Press , an erotic romance selected by Bring Back Desire or a 30-minute clairvoyant reading with Goddess Isis Oracle (via Skype or phone), Tweet us about your clitoris: What you love about it, what you’d say to it, your nickname for it—whatever!—using the hashtag #ClitParty.

Prizes will be awarded for the most retweets and/or favorites, with extra points given for creativity. (Pssst! Guys can enter, too! Talk about a romantic gesture—tweeting about your sweetheart’s clit.;))

As you guys know, I love when people share their thoughts, so I look forward to seeing what you have to say on the topic both on here and on Twitter. You guys never disappoint in your love of all things fun and sexy! Orgasm education is a good cause, don’t you agree? Viva La Clitty!

And for those of you who still feel you need more info on the clit…check out Clitoris Guide.org. They have a ton of interesting stuff!

Labels, Stereotypes and Causes

I guess I thought labels and stereotypes would go away with high school. I was wrong. Looking back, it was pretty naïve to assume that something so prevalent in more youthful times disappeared with adulthood. After all, we get our examples of how to treat people somewhere.

This morning I was reading a post from my very sarcastic, very smart blog buddy, Katie. In her post she was being a bit tongue in cheek about the hypocrisy that often comes with labels, though her post was specific to feminists. She often speaks in satire and generalizations so it’s something that if you should take into account before reading. I find her stuff entertaining, even when I don’t agree (which has been known to happen).  This time, it was the comments that caught my eye in her post.

Katie and I have some similarities in how we were raised. We’re both from Chicago. We were both raised by single moms. We’re both smart and independent and proud of it. We’re both unafraid to speak our minds and enjoy writing blogs where we’re willing to take on almost any topic. The one area we’ve disagreed was in relation to interpersonal relationships and chivalry. Her independent soul finds chivalry to be irrelevant and unimportant as this post illustrates, whereas I find it to be hugely important and sadly lacking as I posted here. If you read her post, you’ll see in the comments just how different our points of view are. I guess that’s part of why her BS Feminism post drew me in….we were actually in agreement and it comes back to labels and stereotypes v. actual beliefs.

Let’s be honest…we’re all guilty of labeling and stereotyping. For example, how many people do you know (and hey, it may be you, yourself) hear the word conservative and picture either someone in a military uniform or a very wealthy person in a business suit who looks like they have a stick up their “you know what”? Or picture liberals as “tree hugging” tie-dye and hemp wearing hippies? Neither is accurate, by the way. Here’s the other kicker…being a liberal doesn’t guarantee you vote Democrat any more than being conservative means you are a Republican.

I’ve always disliked labels. I’m sure you’d all agree that we’re so much more than the labels people try to pin on us. It was actually during the Bush/Kerry election that my dislike turned to abhorrence. You see, I used to hang out on this one message board. Many of us had been friends for years. As often happens, closer to the election the posts got political. For whatever reason apparently, on this board, being gay meant you were supposed to be liberal, hence Democrat. Well, one of my very good friends didn’t get the memo. He broke that mold when he would proudly (and very articulately) jump into the debates on the side of Republicans. He won more of those skirmishes than he lost…which prompted another poster to tell him “I hope you get AIDS and die.” For voting Bush? Seriously? After hanging out at that board for more than 5 years I was done.

I’m not even going to touch the NRA….

So back to feminism. I’ll be honest…I’ve shied away from that label, too. Why? Because for whatever reason, the image I’ve grown to associate with feminism is not very complimentary. Picture an uptight, ball busting woman (often a man hater) who won’t allow simple niceties such as men opening doors, pulling out their chairs, helping them with their coat or paying the tab as if somehow it’s a slight to their ability to do so themselves. Don’t even pretend like you haven’t seen this behavior or know people like this. We all do. And that’s their right. It’s just not my cup of tea.

It’s easy to forget that feminism isn’t really about any of those things. In history class I remember cheering for the “bluestockings” and what they stood for. They wanted women to have a right to vote; for them to have a voice in politics. I loved that. I still do. Feminism is also responsible for laws that require women to receive equal consideration for jobs (as long as their qualifications are also equal). It has been responsible for women being allowed equal educational opportunities, equal salaries. It’s given us rights to make decisions regarding our bodies. I feel very strongly about self esteem and body issues whether they belong to men or women. I’ll take on anyone who goes out of their way to make another person feel worthless. These are all causes that I feel very strongly about…and wholeheartedly support!

Just because I may not be a huge fan of the label doesn’t mean I don’t strongly agree with the core of what it’s supposed to stand for. If you don’t agree with me, that’s okay! I’d love to hear your thoughts. If there are other labels/causes that you feel have gotten bastardized, share that, too!

At the end of the day, I think The Breakfast Club had it right at the end…. We’re a little bit of everything and trying to label it…well, it just gives extremists the opportunity to muddy those waters. 😉

What My Mom Taught Me

I’m the girl in the pink t-shirt

My mom is responsible for so many of the passions in my life. The background in this picture shows two of them…my love of books and my thirst for knowledge.

I suspect that she also inspired my love for writing, particularly poetry. As often happens when we’re young, we emulate what we see. My mom used to write these long, drawn out odes…probably inspired by reading Psalms. All I know is that I was enthralled with the idea that she had created something that other people wanted to read…with her mind and her imagination. And, as happens with the oldest child, I attempted to emulate her…with my own little twists. My sister would tell you that I took it a step further and spun tales to entertain her and my brothers.

Mothers and daughters are complicated relationships…and I suspect it will always be that way. Through her I learned to be timely because it’s a trait she lacks. Yet there were other things that would blow me away…like when she told me how she chose my name. My passion for music comes from her, too. Every member of my immediate family is actually vocally talented. She and my dad used to sing all the time. She was disappointed that I didn’t take more interest in learning an instrument, too. Even when we didn’t have much, she found ways to help my sister and I pay for our voice lessons in high school.

My mom also has a love for cooking and baking; one she passed on to my sister and me. My first memory of making bread with her was when I was 3. She made sure she had mini-loaf pans and tart pans to go with her pie and bread pans. As she would make hers, she’d double the recipe so my sister and I could make “ours”. We loved that. In fact, baking is something we both do to relax us. Like my mom, I’m an intuitive cook… a pinch of this and a dab of that are commonplace in my cooking. It’s all to taste, which makes it difficult for me to share recipes, but it was always fun.

As some of you realize, my dad wasn’t really a presence in my life. She was the one who never missed a concert that I performed in, she who told me that I could be anyone and do anything I wanted. She did everything she could so that his absence wasn’t missed too much. She found a way to support us with nothing more than a high school diploma…and chose not to take advantage of “aid” agencies, though we qualified. She believed there were others that needed it more and that as long as she was working, accepting things like food stamps would send us the wrong message. She wanted us to be strong and independent. She taught me the value of hard work and dedication.

Don’t get me wrong…we had our ups and downs. Having me so young made us more like siblings than mother/daughter sometimes… We both had our tempers and we knew how to push each others buttons. The single mom in her gave her a very vivid imagination. (She thought my catnip was marijuana and that my sister’s contact lens enzyme tabs were birth control pills that I’d procured without her knowledge or permission.)

Thanks to her, my sister and I were independent enough to spread our wings and fly from the nest as soon as we were old enough. Unlike most kids, we didn’t do it because we were rebelling or needed to escape. We did it to exercise the independence she raised us to crave.

Even then, we knew she was always just a phone call away. If we ever truly needed her she’d drop everything and try to find a way to help us. She still would.

She’s not perfect… In fact, she’s a bit of a hypochondriac. She gave us vitamins one year for stocking stuffers. She’s spiked my sister’s OJ with fish oil to “enhance her memory” when we were in high school preparing for finals… (Yeah, that was hilarious for me, disgusting for her.) She has a brutal temper. She’s beyond protective. She jumps to conclusions and has a tendency to shoot first, ask questions later (a trait common in single moms who want to keep their kids safe).

Through her, my sister and I gained a very clear vision of what a loving God looks like. She raised us to do what was right, even when it wasn’t always easy or comfortable. She taught us to be tough, resilient and self sufficient. She also showed us what commitment looked like.

When we lost our brothers she was there…strong and steadfast. She knew that as long as we had each other and faith, we would survive. She never let go.

Watching her over the years I’ve learned so much about strength, resilience and love….and the kind of mother I’d like to be (if I ever have any children). It always chokes me up and blows my mind a little when she hugs me and tells me that my sister and I inspired so much of what we inspire in her.

May I grow up to be as inspiring to someone as she’s been to me.

Now it’s your turn…. What traits have you inherited from your mom? What inspires you? If you’re a mom, what do you love most about being one?