I am the Sloth

How many of you have played that “Sloth in Space” app game on your iPhone where the weirdo- looking sloth always manages to disappoint and surprise while he travels on his rocket ship through space and time, usually wearing a rather colorful scarf?

I have -- dozens (ok, hundreds) of times. 

So I read with interest the article in today’s Science Section of The New York Times, “The Sloth’s Busy Inner Life.” It seems that three-toed sloths have a lot more going on than barreling through the galaxy:  A species of moth lives exclusively in their fleece (e.g., fur) and, to make matters more interesting, a species of algae also grows in “special channels in the sloth’s grooved hairs.”

In other words, the sloth is “not so much an animal as it is an ecosystem.”  That’s a lot of responsibility for an animal that’s generally thought of as being lazy.

Now, I’m not going to get into the disgusting details (unless you’re a sloth) about how and why the moths live in the sloth’s fleece, or the camouflage provided by the algae from the risks of attacks by jaguars and the harpy eagle, whatever the hell that is.  Suffice to say, sloths think they have a good thing going on, like their lifestyle and are willing to take acceptable risks from time to time in order to maintain it despite wild beasts and birds of prey – even if they do approach things a tad slowly.

The sloth and I have a lot in common.  Like the sloth when it’s groomed, my “moths” – kids or work tasks, chores or meals or chauffeuring requests – reveal themselves every minute of the day it seems, demanding my attention.   Plus, I’d like to think my self-protective algae (a little bit of attitude) projects the confidence, charm or detachment required for keeping more challenging members of our human species at bay if they're not already in the palm of my hand.  (As if.)

I am the Sloth, coo-coo-ca-choo. 

Indeed, the inner life of the sloth serves as a useful reminder of what’s important to me at this particular moment in my life.  Just like this odd creature, I may not be living large but I’ve got a pretty good ecosystem going and I’ve slowed things down just enough to enjoy it.  Here’s hoping your taking the time you need to enjoy your ecosystem, too.

 

 

 

Sophisticated Ladies

I couldn’t have imagined finding a common thread in the narrative arcs of Mrs. Beyonce Carter and the Lady MacBeth of Virginia, Maureen McDonnell, but I have.  For very different reasons, their sense of entitlement led them to exercise exquisitely questionable judgment.

First, the Queen of Music and First Friend of the First Family, Mrs. Knowles Carter:   One of the world’s most accomplished entertainers and certainly one of its most beautiful women, the artist known as Beyonce has conducted her career with wit, grit and a whole lot of style over the years.  Heck, we’ve even forgiven the lip-syncing of the Star Spangled Banner at the President’s January 2013 inaugural because, you know, she’s Queen B.

I’m really not a prude.  I sat through The Wolf of Wall Street, for godsake!  But I have to say that Beyonce and Jay took it a little bit over the line last night at the 8 o’clock hour on the Grammy Awards.   Twerking, chair dancing, strobe lights and bleeped out lyrics:  Ok, B, if I wanna buy your video album, I am choosing to see your steamy Drunk in Love performance.  But I suspect a large number of viewers last night were tweens and teens (your fans) who are still figuring this sex stuff out and didn’t see this performance coming.

What were you thinking? Ah yes, album sales. 

Today I’m sure you’re thrilled with the buzz-on effect of your opening act.  In the name of artistic freedom you gave twerking a little class, unlike that bumpkin Miley Cyrus, eh?  Of course, I wonder how you’ll feel when the “next” Beyonce of 2024 performs a similar number and your own beautiful little girl  is now a tween… and watching…say wha???

Now on to the former First Lady of the great Commonwealth of Virginia, Maureen I deserve my very own Oscar de la Renta gown even though my husband is a lowly paid public servant McDonnell.

No, it wasn’t enough that the needy Mrs. McDonnell asked some ethically challenged CEO to buy her nice clothes and help with the family’s debts; she wanted the Rolex and Range Rover too!  But even Maureen crossed the line:  CEO Jonnie Williams of Star Scientific just wanted to sell a few vitamin supplements with the help of state-sponsored research “wired” by the Guv.  Instead, “lusting for luxury” Maureen asked the Sugar Daddy CEO for a kind of permanent “loan” of his Range Rover so her college age son could look the part of big man on campus. 

She tripped his wire, and he tipped off the Feds.

Amazing.

But now my point (and I have one):  Female empowerment is a beautiful thing.  I applaud women who have the confidence to take risks just so long as the risk isn’t at someone else’s unknowing or unwanted expense.  When artistic integrity becomes more important than the ability or desire of the audience to understand it, it becomes a subtle kind of bullying.  And when empowerment becomes entitlement, it can flirt dangerously with the line dividing the strictly legal from the criminal.  

For some folks out there, this may all boil down to perceptions of sophistication and my lack of it.  But for me, the recent behavior of these women smacks more of sheer stupidity.

Sorry, B.  Hope you’ll make a better choice the next time.

As for you, Maureen, I hear “orange is the new black.”  Good luck with that.

The 7 Year Itch

As you may remember from my last post, my husband and I are starting to think about how and where we might want to live in our dotage which, of course, has immediately taken me to the “home improvement” space for our current abode. 

For example, I’ve never liked the granite counters in my kitchen -- I’m thinking something a little less black and brown and a little more creamy white and tan might just make it feel more “now.”

Then there are the occasional marks on the walls that are crying out for touch-up paint.  My husband, eager to please, fixed a few marks on a lower wall in our kitchen so that it looked (nearly) brand new.  But he had less luck in our stairwell and hallway; our “Sedate Grey” paint seems to have turned  50 shades of something in the years since its original application – so we now have little marks of slightly “off” touch-up work on both sides of the stairwell and in the hall way – a sedater “speckling” of grey, if you will.  This has produced a serious OCD response (hives) on my part, nearly forcing my husband to consider sending the padded wagon for me.  Again.

Angie??  This is a "Big Deal" -- I need a painter -- cheap -- stat!!

I’m also a little bit bored with our lovely but 14 year old sofas; I’ve been daydreaming about re-upholstery for a while now…but there’s my handy hubby again, armed with the sofa cleaning attachment to our rug cleaning machine, making the cushions look (nearly) new again.

So why am I so antsy???

We’ve been in our house 7.5 years – the 7 Year Itch! Of course!

Plus it’s January, it’s cold, I’m 61 and achy, I’m a little bored, I’ve got seasonal affect disorder:  How many reasons do I need?

This too shall pass, I know.  But in the meantime, I’m dreaming of a gleaming white, brand new condo…in the city…with closets and room enough for 3 in a neighborhood that is lively day or night.

Scratch, scratch.  Sigh.

MrsSedd@Sixty: Gonzo for a Condo

MrsSedd@Sixty: Gonzo for a Condo: Is it time for my husband and I to begin imagining a future of condo-living? Maybe, we thought, when we decided to visit a beautiful 2 b...

Gonzo for a Condo

Is it time for my husband and I to begin imagining a future of condo-living?

Maybe, we thought, when we decided to visit a beautiful 2 bedroom in a new, very upscale building in a revitalized part of Washington, D.C. (which really is a city, after all).

I could see myself sitting at a little round table parked next to a window in the small but totally brand new kitchen, watching young Vikings more than half my age stride purposefully to work and back.  The building has a roof terrace with a spectacular Washington view of the Capitol and the Monument,  as well as a lap pool for pretend swimming, a party room and a big, well-appointed gym.  Best of all, the neighborhood has a nice, busy vibe, and is about 10 blocks (but a long 10 blocks) away from my office.  There’s a saloon next door and a wine store/gourmet grocery across the street.  There’s also a CVS  adjacent to the building – so very convenient for aging hipsters like my husband and me as we add new (prescribed!) drugs to our daily health rituals because of growing a little older each year.

My husband liked the condo too, although it would be a challenge to his very being to have to make choices about what possessions could transition into much closer living quarters.  Our mutual concern about making the leap at this moment in time is the safety and security of our daughter, who has been truly spoiled by our wonderfully safe suburban enclave of a neighborhood and the ease of having friends right next door to hang with.  City living would be a shock to her system – and a smallish condo bedroom doesn’t provide nearly enough room for her to “escape” from us , which during the teenage years (as we are discovering) will likely be a daily requirement for her.

So, for now, my husband and I have agreed to stay put in our quite adequate home on a hill in Arlington, VA, with its 2 flights of stairs that are tough on the knees.  However, I’m excited that we’re actually kind of looking around at real estate again and contemplating a different kind of lifestyle for our dotage – but one that could actually keep things a bit fizzy and fun without having to resort to knee replacement surgery.

Here’s to “next acts” in life!!

Matchmaker, Matchmaker

For a big chunk of my adult life I was a single professional woman with enough ambition to find meaningful, challenging work that never seemed to allow for the time or energy to develop a social life. At some point (probably around the time I turned 40), I contemplated the likelihood of a lifetime lived alone.

Then one day my BFF met a nice 40-ish government lawyer at a cocktail party at the beach whom she chatted up and decided would be perfect for me (she was happily engaged at the time) so she passed along my telephone number, made me promise not to be mean to him if he called for date, and the rest, as they say, is history.

My 15^th wedding anniversary is coming up this spring, and when I think about the many ups and occasional downs of married life, I remain forever grateful for my friend’s willingness and desire to “matchmake” on my behalf.  She always said I’d allowed her to make a mitzvah (a lovely thought). 

So I wasn’t surprised when she told me this weekend she has a new career in mind for herself.  Matchmaking.

This dear friend, who served our government for three decades and ended up a CIO for a federal agency, retired about a year ago at the ripe young age of 57 because she was feeling a little bored, her mom’s health was in decline and she wanted to focus on family and, at some point, contemplate a new way to spend her free time doing something just for the fun of it.  Since her retirement, she’s developed an interest in doing voice-over work for radio (ok, it hasn’t taken off yet but she’s had a blast putting her demo CD together) and she took a holiday retail job which will end soon. But are her emotional and pragmatic antenna in sync enough to be a successful matchmaker?

I read with interest today a recent Harvard Business Review blog about the new cult of “reinvention” among boomers of a certain age, e.g. 50+, who have done the tough, careerist slog and now just want to have a little fun, do a little good and maybe make a little money along the way.  In the HBR piece, the author noted that reinvention doesn’t really work most of the time and can, in fact, be a “dangerous fantasy.” Rather, people in search of new challenges or “bucket list” occupations are most happy (and successful) when they “reintegrate” their expertise and experience – creatively tweaking what they know and what they’ve learned (including the mistakes!) in order to apply their insights and know-how to a whole new area of interest. 

I think that’s really true. 

It’s tough to become Katy Perry when you can’t carry a tune or play the guitar or piano.  But the HBR post made me realize that my friend the would-be Matchmaker really can do this thing she wants to do.   She has social skills and she’s not afraid to use them.  She works hard to maintain networks of friendships, which she likes to “mix up” from time to time – but she can also administer tough love and has no problem telling a friend that she really doesn’t want to spend the afternoon shopping with the friend’s pre-teen daughter (as much as she loves her) or, no, your new relationship just isn’t going to work out so move on.

I have promised to throw in some free PR advice if she needs it as she her plans in motion for those who want to change their luck in love.

Cue the music.

 

Polar Vortex

Today is the reason TV meteorologists exist,

Storm Team-ing and preening for the cameras in logo-ed parkas and Russian-style fur hats.

It may be sunny here now but it’s 17 degrees that feel like 5.

It is f8&$#*! cold.

I’m swirling in the vortex of Polarness as if surrounded by ice. 

You bet an Irish Coffee would be nice.

Brrrr.

MrsSedd@Sixty: Blue Monday

MrsSedd@Sixty: Blue Monday: Welcome to 2014!   I hope you enjoyed your holidays with family or friends, celebrated your good fortune or hopes for the future, relishe...

Blue Monday

Welcome to 2014!  I hope you enjoyed your holidays with family or friends, celebrated your good fortune or hopes for the future, relished the yummy food and wine and treats that came your way, and caught a few movies (unless, of course, you were somewhere warm and near a beach, in which case, I hope you caught a few waves instead).

However, the end-of-year relief and New Year sense of optimism perhaps has faded as we face the first Monday of the year with a mix of trepidation or wooly-headedness from being away from work or our usual routines.  An early morning news program used the term “Blue Monday” to describe this phenomenon.

Blue Monday acknowledges the reality that only 7 percent of us will even attempt to keep those new year’s resolutions to exercise an hour a day or lose 30 pounds or meet the man or woman of our dreams; rather we know all too well that what lies ahead is more work, some drudgery, likely weight gain and early morning alarm clock noises designed to drag our sorry asses out of bed and into the mundane realities of daily living.

Sigh.  Consider the alternative if Blue Monday’s got you down, as I do now that I am nearly a senior citizen.   Rather, here’s what I choose to focus on for my year ahead (in no particular order) – helping to shake the blues free of Blue Monday in no time at all:

1.     I haven’t had a cold or bronchitis yet this year, and hopefully I’ll get through the better part of the year ahead without one!

2.       St. Lucia, St. Lucia, St. Lucia for a spring vacation.

3.       Happy and healthy child, happy and healthy husband.

4.       My cozy home and sweet shit-zhu, Shasha.

5.       Parents who are still living.

6.       Two sisters I love very much (and some pretty swell in-laws, too).

7.       Friends who matter to me. (And I seem to matter to them, too!  A lovely feeling, indeed).

8.       A good stock market.

9.       Income.

10.   This blog, a.k.a., Mrs. Sedd’s substitute for therapy.

While I will have other new year’s observations or wishes to share in the days ahead or as they occur to me, here’s hoping you lose those Monday blues too and embrace the new year ahead with optimism, resolve and a sense of humor.

We’ll talk.