If you look carefully at that blurry picture, you can see two pileated woodpeckers. Those two showed up this morning with a third. They are not completely rare around here but we don't see them every day. I think that this may have been a mated couple and their juvenile child, out for a lesson in finding bugs in hollow trees and branches.
They are splendid birds, very large and dramatically marked. Here's a better picture that I got off the internet.
They are not as large as the magnificent and probably-extinct Ivory Billed Woodpecker (aka the Lord God Bird) but they are gorgeous creatures and I feel that I have had a holy visitation every time I see one.
So that was a fine way to start out my day.
Next week is the beginning of the mass family birthdays around here. Tuesday is Owen's birthday, Wednesday is Lily and Vergil's birthday, and Friday is August's birthday. Shayla's birthday is on Monday, and Billy's on Thursday.
I think I got that right.
Anyway, on Saturday we're having a little gathering for those who can come, over at Lily and Lauren's for Owen. Just a snack and cake thing. So I asked Lily what I should bring for the snacking portion of the event. I offered to make the ever-popular and delicious slow-cooker meatballs with the grape jelly and Heinz Chili Sauce sauce. Do not laugh. Or gag. You cannot believe how amazing these damn things are. And if you google it, you will see that yes, it is a real thing.
Are they good for you?
Oh hell no.
Will they be the first thing eaten at a party?
Oh hell yes.
Lily said that would be fine and that actually, Owen had wanted some cocktail wieners in that same sauce so I decided to do both together which means that I will be taking a crockpot full of BALLS AND WIENERS to a fourteen-year old boy's birthday party.
Is that completely inappropriate or completely appropriate?
I do not know but it is making me chuckle. All of the grown-ups have already laughed about this via the text circle this morning and we will not be bringing it up again at the party. At least while any of the children are around.
So what all of this is leading to is the fact that I needed to go back to town to buy balls and wieners and grape jelly and Heinz Chili Sauce and some other stuff like toilet paper and the things I need to make a lunch for Mr. Moon, Maggie, and me who will be eating together tomorrow at Maggie's school for yet another annual Grandparent's Day luncheon. They were offering Chick-fil-A lunches for those who wanted them but I refuse to pay those homophobic fuckers one red cent. So I got thin white bread to make fancy sandwiches, cut-up watermelon (Maggie's favorite fruit), Pringles (Maggie's favorite chips) and two slices of some sort of very elegant-looking bakery cake with raspberry filling. Also, sparkling Martinelli's apple juice for the darling girl.
Maggie is going to a different school now than the one where Glen and I have attended so many grandparent lunches so this will be an adventure.
Lily and Jessie both have been going through some tearful times lately. Stuff that isn't mine to talk about and they will be fine but it's been HARD for them. So we met for lunch and Lauren was able to come too. We went to a Cuban restaurant and had the best time. We dined. As I have so often said, no one can make me laugh like Lily and that proved true again today. To poor Lauren's embarrassment, Lily, Jessie, and I discussed some rather raunchy topics as well as serious topics. I realize that not every family is able to discuss things that can make others blush but we are one that can and does. Nothing very personal, just...well, we can be salty as the kids are saying these days.
Much laughing was involved.
So that was wonderful and then Lily and I went to the Indian grocery store in the same little strip mall where we both bought fun things and I despaired at the realization that there are so many foods and so many spices that I know nothing about and never use, making me an incredibly white-bread, boring American person. Lily has experimented far more than me with Indian cooking and some of their different vegetables. I am proud of her for that.
And then I came home to find Mr. Moon finishing up his rock garden.
That is a lot of rocks. And there were a lot of baby trees and weeds to pull up. That man is determined. When he starts a job, he finishes it. Okay, sometimes it takes a few years but he gets it done.
I have thought a great deal more about the whole body issue thing. My thoughts are still being processed for sure and this may be one of those circumstances wherein I have to think and write and write and think to get to any real understanding of such an incredibly complex issue.
I so appreciate all of your comments on yesterday's post. One of the reasons I love blogging is that it can be a conversation. A discussion. Anyone who wants to can offer input from their own experience, their own observations, their own cultural and familial influences in this matter which helps us all in our own understanding.
It is so easy to point to our culture, our society, and blame our inability to love and accept ourselves as we are on them. And you know what? A not insignificant part of of the problem does arise from our culture and society. And it did not start with Twiggy and Jean Shrimpton and yes, Joni Mitchell and the way we idolized not only her incredible songwriting and performing, but her perfect image as having the body and hair we all wanted. Actors and performers have always influenced what we see as desirable. I think of Marilyn Monroe here. No, she was not stick-thin like the pin-up girls of the sixties but it was her body that garnered the attention, the adoration.
36-24-36.
How many of you remember when a woman's breast, waist, and hip measurement was a thing that was regularly posted in magazine articles? How many of you had your own tape measure and obsessively exercised and measured yourself over and over again, hoping for something close to that magical 36-24-36?
Or how about this? Doing exercises to supposedly enlarge our breasts while chanting
We must! We must!
We must increase our bust!
The bigger the better,
The tighter the sweater,
The boys depend on us!
Can you imagine a group of girls saying those words now while vigorously pumping their fisted, crooked arms back and forth?
Or what kind of hell there would be to pay if someone asked a movie star or performer or athlete what her measurements were?
But you know what? I don't think that things have gotten any better. We may be less overt with some of it but it's all still here.
We'll talk about this more.
And I also want to talk about how families can shame their daughters about what they consider to be too much padding or, too little, as many of you pointed out. I will discuss what I now think about the message I gave my own children about body image.
I ain't proud of it. I fucked up.
I know it.
And there is so much more to dig up and uncover and expose. There are religious beliefs about modesty which can cause lifetime shame about our bodies. There is sexual abuse and assault which can absolutely destroy a girl's or a woman's feelings about her body.
I saw this picture of Serena Williams today on Facebook.
Look at that beautiful, powerful, amazing woman! And yes, the pictures were accompanied by comments about how big women can be beautiful.
Big women can be beautiful. But only if they're world champion tennis players? If only they're rich and famous?
You tell me.
I also saw this.
So yes. Women over fifty can also be beautiful.
If they're thin as a rail and their graying hair is long and thick and luxurious and styled and they are wearing incredibly cool outfits and jewelry, influenced by indigenous people.
Ain't no winning this game.
More later. Tell me what you're thinking.
And if you do not regularly read comments on posts, you're missing out. This community has a lot to say about this topic. Lots of wisdom. Lots of insight. I welcome all of it.