Time to Cowgirl Up

The girlfriends are headed to Zona today for our annual trip to Big Sal's gorgeous Western home. A couple of us can't go this year but we're there in spirit.

I was reminded of a western expression this morning. While speaking about the economy and the enormous challenges facing our nation, someone said, "It's time for all of us to cowboy up." I immediately thought of the women pictured above. They have "cowgirled up" in big ways.

Some have dealt with illness and death with parents or in-laws. Some have watched the baby leave the nest. Some have carried the worry load over health issues with loved ones while jumping into action. In the two years since this photo was taken, some of our lives have changed dramatically -- in good ways too. There have been business ventures and new grandchildren. Many happy moments with family and friends. These women, and many others I know, choose to soldier on and they usually do it with a ton of class.

Tomorrow is Obama's inauguration and like millions of people, I will watch and listen. I'm sure his speech will be uplifting but he's given enough statements for us to know it will also be filled with warnings of tough times ahead. Frankly, I feel like I've been cowgirling up for a while now. But I will plod ahead. I may put on my cowboy boots, toast my girls in Zona and psyche myself up for a tougher cowgirl attitude.

Making and Living the Vows

I have a few friends that are going through bumps in the road. Any time a girlfriend starts referring to her husband as "Satan," I think this girl needs a girl trip, or at least, a night out.

Although those people who get married in mid-air or under water get all the attention, most of us choose the traditional route. Lots of people write their own vows but most of us stick with the traditional ones:

I, (name) take you, (name) to be my (wife/husband.) To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.

Lovely words and they should be a solemn promise. I've broken it and that is something I'm not proud of.

Sometimes the pageantry gets in the way from seeing the big picture. Here's where living the vows kicks in:

To have and to hold from this day forward.
Some days you will not want to have him or hold him. He won't be very fond of you either. All brides should know that "to hold" doesn't necessarily mean the man you married -- sometimes it's just holding on to the promise.

For better or for worse.
Yes, you will have both. If you get through them, you will find your strength in these times. They can also break you.

For richer, for poorer.
I've never understood women who marry for money. One business bankruptcy, one stock market crash, a couple of bad financial decisions, etc. and it's toast. Nobody chooses poor but it's all in the definition. I don't define "rich" by my bank balance.

In sickness and in health.
I watched the Belle and the Captain. She was an amazing caretaker and certainly took more care of him than he did of her. However, in his own way, he tried very hard. He needled her about taking her meds. He was often saying, "Sit down and rest." When they were both healthy, he was quite proud to show her off.

To love and to cherish.
The love part is easy for me. Even if I am angry, my love does not falter but I don't show it very well. Cherish is a word I associate with children. Some versions of the vows replace this with "to honor and obey." I'm not talented at that "obey" thing. I'm working on cherish and honor. Obey is never going to happen. (At least I'm honest about it.)

Til death do us part.
It's a pretty clear statement. Just another example of something it took me a while to understand. Now I understand that if something goes south with this marriage, it doesn't have to be a physical death -- it would be a death of my heart.

For a reasonably smart person, I'm good at stupidity.

The word that does not show up in the traditional vows is "forgiveness."

Singing and Dancing

I have never met a microphone I didn't like. I'm not great at public speaking but other than that, I have a freakish attraction to microphones. Maybe it's because the husband is in a band. Maybe it's because my mother was honest enough to tell me decades ago that I can't carry a tune and at some point I decided I don't care. I sing in my house and my car. I sing whenever I feel like it.

Years ago, I was on a girl trip with my Goldies. I think we were in Nashville, TN. Lots of musical entertainment on street corners. To their horror, I liked to join in. I know this song!

Another time, a musician was performing in our hotel lobby. He was singing Patsy Cline and I was participating so heartily that he invited me on stage. Do you think I went up there? Deb and Jan were slightly proud and partially mortified.

Dancing is another release for me. Sorry Mom, but you started it. I used to watch my mother dance around the house. I have danced on counter tops and table tops. Some gene takes over and I must move. (I have never pole danced or pranced in a cage.) As a band widow, I often attend their performances. I dance with my friends and sometimes a total stranger will ask me to dance. I usually do it and I point out my husband up on stage. It's not a dating ritual; I just like to dance.

Plus, I know all the songs so I get to sing along.

Sleeping Around

I've slept with lots of people. That does not mean I've had sex with lots of people. Mostly, I've slept with my husband(s) and some girlfriends. And my parents. When scared or lonely, I've crawled into their bed. I haven't done this in a couple of decades but I suspect they wouldn't kick me out.

The 70s brought freedom for lots of young women. Free love and access to the birth control pill. Burn that bra and flash your sexual freedom! I might have been the missile but my parents were the silo. They held the key and the pass code.

A couple of times, my built-in moral code emerged. We must get married! Yeah, that worked out well. I've had more than one wedding but only one marriage.

My cousin (one of the smartest people I know) and I had an email conversation the other day. In the midst of solving the problems of the world, I asked, "Was marriage meant to be hard?" His response was, "It just is." I used to watch the oldies get cranky with each other and I was amazed that they had anything left to bristle about.

Having participated in the rearing of two children, I will be the first to acknowledge that the double standard still exists: Men who sleep around are studs. Women get the bad rap.

I know women who wish they had saved their virginity until their wedding night. I know women who regret not sleeping with someone in their past.

I know friends who come from huge families and sleeping with a sibling was the norm. I never had to share a bed with a sibling. I did crawl in bed with my parents the night before I left for college.

I had a roommate in college that had no qualms about having sex while I was in the room. I pretended to be asleep.

The baby will be 20-years old this summer. When he was in high school, my slightly demented father used to ask him, "How's your sex life?" I think he liked to watch his face turn red. I come by it honestly because I made him watch everything possible about STDs, teenage pregnancy, etc. Then, although he rolled his eyes a lot, I made him discuss it. At some point, he figured out that he was bigger than me and he could just heave himself on me to shut me up.

I still sleep around. You might find me on the patio. I have wandered into the guest room trying to escape the television. I have napped on the dog pillow. I have a key to my parent's house and I know their alarm code. More than once, I've been tempted to drive over and crawl in bed. Of course, their dog would bite me.

Travel Partners

Some people travel better solo. Others settle into a comfortable routine with friends and/or business associates. In my early days of the corporate world, they used to ask the women to bunk together. I don't think they do that anymore.

I travel well with many of my girlfriends. We've shared rooms from Manhattan to Florida to Arizona to the Caribbean to Mexico. My first question in the morning is, "Did I snore?"

Traveling with the husband is my favorite. (He already knows we both snore.) We've traveled a lot this year but our trips together have revolved around funerals.

The only traveling I did with the oldies was driving them back and forth to Mississippi. I wish I had taken a girl trip with the Belle. It would never have happened. She would've insisted that Hangdog tag along.

The Golden Girls travel well together but it took a few years or decades to get that in sync. Plus, we're used to each other's quirks. We may get on each other's nerves but we recover quickly.

I just returned from Manhattan and a great conference. Abby and I have attended it multiple times. We did not share a room, although we often did that in our early business relationship. We both love NY. We both love this conference. We have a long-standing friendship which includes a profound respect for each other's opinions and each other's space. We manage to strike a balance of what we want to do together and when we need separate time.

Although I talk to her almost every day and we collaborate on many things, this conference weekend has often been a reconnection of our friendship. We're not afraid to say things. Maybe it's being out of our usual surroundings. Maybe we're both so pumped with ideas and excitement that some of the walls come down.

It's a business trip and we work very hard to absorb as much information as we can. We toss ideas at each other over a glass of wine. We have the luxury of discussion time without the nagging pressures of daily commitments. We talk about business. We spend some time on Memory Lane -- my favorite street. We make comments about each other's lives that we wouldn't say in our normal, time-pressured conversations.

She helped me sort through some things. I hope I was a sounding board for her.

Then, we shared our enthusiasm and excitement about attending next year.

Opposite Coasts

Part of the reason the husband and I were trying to steal a little time last night is that we are headed to opposite coasts next week. We've got to coordinate some time with baby while he's home on break and my rock & roll husband has two band gigs coming up this weekend. Throw in work issues and Hangdog ... well, we're trying to be a well-oiled machine. We're failing but don't we get credit for trying?

The husband is going on a business trip to California. Several of my girlfriends are going to Florida for a winter escape. I did not plan to attend but the husband has concluded I must go. Secretly, I think he's deciding between sending me on a girlfriend trip or visiting me in the nut house. (I am not making fun of mental illness.)

So, I will go to Florida for a few days. The husband will go to California. Hangdog will be in the Home. Hangdog will call me at least five times each day.

I'm taking books and lots of work stuff. I will never turn off my cell phone. I may fed ex the dog pillow to Florida. Curling up on it gives me a strange comfort.

Cross check and call forward. I'm out of here for a few days. Of course, I will still blog.

Wacky Houseboy

I was supposed to be in Arizona this week. You know what they say about "the best laid plans..."

When I scheduled my trip, I made reservations for the dog to go to puppy camp. Yes, it's a kennel but it sounds more fun if you call it camp. Then, the death of the mother-in-law, changes in schedules, changes in flights, and so on. So, we'll be off to Mississippi with Hangdog in tow. I asked Houseboy if he would take the dog to camp.

No, he won't. He's taking our maniacal, frenzied, jumping and opinionated dog to his house. I tried to talk him out of it. I even said, "I cannot be responsible if she eats your sofa." He's doing it anyway. I told the husband of this plan and he said, "Is he crazy?"

I think Houseboy's wife likes me but after this weekend, she may not speak to me again.

Should I Go?

My annual girlfriend trip to Phoenix is coming up. Normally, I would be giddy with anticipation. This year is a little different. The mother-in-law is still in the rehab facility. Hangdog is here and we have very few days to make some tough choices, get answers from VA and Medicare, choose a facility and actually move him. (Including packing for him and coordinating meds, etc.) Then, she will need to be moved as well.

This is my relaxation trip. I read. I get up early and sit with Abby (the other early riser) and we light a fire and sip our coffee. Other than a couple of trips to our favorite Mexican Cantina and the cowboy bar and the coffee shop, we eat whatever great stuff Big Sal has on hand. We're all easy to please. Jeans, sweats or PJs are the favored attire. We watch schmaltzy Lifetime movies. Then we eventually figure out the DVD player and watch other movies. We cuddle with Big Sal's dogs and we sit on the humongous patio or on the rooftop perch and solve the problems of the world, or just our lives.

I get to laugh. A LOT! Last year, I stumbled on Pam in the bathroom in the middle of the night. She thought I was a bear. Not only did we both scream but then we heard Cynthia laughing in her bed. (We had the bunkhouse last time, which is fabulous and for the record, I don't believe a bear could manage those stairs.)

We're all very predictable. Abby will be the first to go to bed, although I might challenge her this year. Mickey will be the last to rise, although I might challenge her this year. We will watch for the javelinas. (Don't call them pigs!)
We will go to Last Chance although none of us needs a single thing.

But...my house is in crisis. The oldies are in crisis. The husband cannot attend to all of these things alone.

I'll believe I'm actually going once someone throws me on the plane and I hear, "Cross check and call forward." Until then, I'm a little skeptical. But, I have been threatened with bodily harm by the girlfriends if I don't make the trip. That might do it. My girlfriends are mighty strong women. I'm a tad afeared of them.

Silver and Gold

My grandmother -- the sane one, not the nutty one -- had a plaque in her living room with this old saying:

"Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver and the other is gold."

This is a story about three young girls who managed to find, hang on to and thrive in a golden friendship.

The first one I met in kindergarten or first grade. I sat directly behind her and I was fascinated with her hair. Not only was it thick and beautiful, but her mother did these elaborate braids and other styles. When she wore pigtails or a ponytail, I was constantly touching it. (Today, that's called stalking.) She lived within walking distance of our school so once we became friends, I was often invited to her house. Her mom would make us lunch or serve us an after school snack. We bonded. We competed. We grew up together.

In middle school, we met the one who completed our unit. She was a skinny little thing with a big personality. She's still our glue. When we were teenagers, she was the one who took the blame whenever we got in trouble. Today, I am the proud godmother of her children and my own mother thinks she walks on water.

We get together at least twice a year. We used to include the kids on one of our annual trips but now that they're all older, we skip that part. Now it's all about us. We catch up. We ask each other questions. We each come up with various questions, cut them into strips and put them in a pretty bag. We carry it everywhere during our trip. No subject is off limits. We used to stick pretty close to the Midwest but now that we're older, we're fantasizing about more exotic locales.

We drink some wine and eat a little junk food. We reminisce and we cry. We reconnect and leave knowing our lives are enriched with this friendship.

I don't have any significant childhood memories that don't include one or both of them. We email each other almost every day. Still, nothing compares with sitting in a hotel room and being able to say, "You've got to lose those shoes."

Girl Trips

Don't misunderstand. I love vacationing or traveling with my husband. It works out best if we do it with other couples so he has someone to play golf with.

I think girl trips are the salve for the tired and weary. They save your soul. There's something about hanging with the girlfriends, cooking something easy or not cooking at all, no makeup, no kids, no husbands. (Dogs permitted, depending on the location.)

There's an intimacy that surfaces when you're alone with the girls. Let's talk about the time that you really annoyed me. Let's talk about the friends that we miss. Let's talk about people's botched surgeries or bad clothing choices. Let's play cards. Let's talk about the kids and where we screwed up. Let's talk about the weird things going on with our bodies. Let's toot our own horns and honor each other.

Girl trips are a safe haven, just like golf trips for the men. I find it very sad that my mother-in-law has never been on one. When you're tethered, your choices are to either lie down and be complacent or take him with you.

I take several girl trips a year. They save my sanity.