Predators

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OMG. OMG. I naively thought the “casting couch” was a thing of the past. Harvey Weinstein obviously proved me wrong. He has lost his job, his company, his wife, his kids, his reputation and his dignity, if there ever was any dignity. He joins the ranks with amazingly talented men who f*&^K up their lives by neurotically thinking they are above and beyond the norm and are entitled to things most everyone else are not. He joins Tiger Woods, Donald Trump, Bill Cosby and so many others. Many of these men lost everything, some end up in jail and it’s just a matter of time for the psychopath Trump. He is unraveling fast, making very poor decisions and alienating himself from his people in the White House. Today or yesterday he said “I hate everyone in the White House”. And we all know he is a predator of women and has spoken of them in ways that is unbelievably insulting if you are a woman, are in a partnership with a woman or have daughters. It’s unacceptable.

I entered the business world in the 80’s. I was smart, perceptive, educated and politically savvy. I was shocked at what I had to deal with in terms of sexual harassment. I dealt with it assertively but it was scary and I think I lost one job because of it. I hope this coming out about some of these guys changes things for women. I’ll end this post as I started it.

OMG

 

Catholic? Really? How can you even do it?

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I attended the Catholic Church as a young child by obviously no choice of my own.  I learned the prayers and the songs but never really knew what it all meant. It was totally confusing to me.

I went to Catholic school as a very young girl (first and second grade if I remember correctly until my parents’ violent and frightening divorce.) I recall being slapped across the face by a nun for doing something with my mouth that she thought was gum.  It wasn’t gum, it was just something weird I was doing with my mouth.

I remember a nun saying my gorgeous and amazing drawing of a birthday party could have no way been drawn by me, put huge red exes through my art, told the entire class that I was a cheater and a fraud and to steer clear of me. I was asked to stand in front of the class, hold my hands out in front of me while she bashed them with a gigantic yardstick. Nice. I was a little girl in first grade.  I never attempted to engage in art again. And my drawing was amazing for a first grader, BTW.  I may have had a talent.

I am outraged at the Catholic Church and have a hard time believing anyone can still support it.  Pedophiles entered Catholic seminaries so that they had access to young alter boys to molest.  This is now documented and it went on for years and years with high level people in the church turning a blind eye.  It makes me want to throw up and makes me wonder how anyone can remain a Catholic.

Just TODAY Cardinal George Pell, former archbishop of Sydney and Melbourne and CURRENT head of the Vatican’s Secretariat for the Economy is facing multiple charges of sexual assault on alter boys and other young men in the church.  This is an outrage!

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Poo Poo

9 Comments

I’m a person who has memories from a very young age.  It’s kind of surprising from a psychological standpoint because my childhood was pretty traumatic.  I remember once being in my mother’s arms and hearing her tell my father that his raised voice ‘made the baby cry.’

When I was a very young child, anything I didn’t like I referred to as “poo poo.”  My mom never corrected me likely because she was happy I wasn’t saying crap or shit like she did.  I think she thought poo poo was harmless.

Then we got a new babysitter.  She was ancient in my eyes.  Probably at least 39.  She looked old!  I mean, when I was 3 my mom was 24.  Even at 3 I did not like this woman.  Our dog Heidi was allowed under the kitchen table when we ate our meals and the four of us little girls would swing our bare feet over her fur.  She loved it.  She also loved the crumbs and other goodies that would drop from the table during our meals.  This lady hated Heidi and would not let her under the table and if I remember correctly, I think she kicked her once.  I was livid, but I was only 3 and the old bitch was 39.  What could I do?

One day I called something I hated poo poo.  She grabbed me by my wrists and said that if I ever said that again God was going to do something very, very bad to me immediately.  (Great caregiving  ….eh?)  (Yes, “eh,” my grandmother was Canadian.)  I did not for a second believe her but I had to prove it to myself.  When she let go of my wrists I turned toward my bedroom and walked away.  “Yes, have a good cry about it,” she called after me.

Uh, no.  That’s not what I did.  I went as deeply into a cluttered and disorganized (beyond belief) closet in the pitch black, made myself comfortable on a pile of clothes on the floor and whispered, “poo poo.”  And then I waited.  Nothing bad happened.  I emerged from the closet and I waited all afternoon and nothing bad happened.

I never trusted that woman to begin with but now I knew she was a liar.

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Human Silverbacks

10 Comments

“There are a lot of alpha personalities in the room!” he said.

A normal gorilla troop in the wild consists of a silverback male, several females (called a Harem, sorry gals) and all of their offspring. The silverback calls the shots. He dictates when to feed, when to nest, when to move on, etc. He also breaks up bickering between his females and patrols his territory for his family’s safety. It’s a stressful job and silverbacks are notorious for heart disease. But he is, without a doubt, the boss.

I know our DNA is 98.5 percent the same as gorillas. But we are human and I have noticed in racquet sports if women and men are playing together, certain men revert to gorilla behavior.

I am an amateur expert on the Western Lowland Gorilla and the Chimpanzee and I work as a Gorilla and Chimp Ambassador at the Dallas zoo speaking to zoo guests about their behaviors and personalities. We are desperately trying to save these animals from extinction.  I know each individual chimp and gorilla intimately and I love every one of them with my heart and soul.

Eight months ago I switched from years of tennis to a game called pickle ball. It originally was for slightly older to very old people but young people are swooping in because it is so much fun (addicting actually) and such great exercise. It is very fast, can be played very aggressively and it’s a mix of women and men of all ages.

The behavior that concerns me in pickle ball is certain men thinking they are in charge like a Silverback!  They force unsolicited advice onto women, try to dominate how the rotation works, try to monopolize courts for themselves and other men, and sometimes even try cruel tactics to get the weaker women off the courts by slamming them with balls on an overhead smash, often 0n very old women. Let me be clear, most of the men do not fall into this category, many I would describe as officers and gentlemen, but something like 15% act like they can call the shots.

Breaking News: I am an assertive person.

Assertiveness is my nature and the school I attended of very hard knocks ( In addition to getting my degree in biz mgt at a U, so as to not sell myself short) has reinforced it. I try very hard to be self-aware enough to not let it slip over into obnoxiousness. But I am definitely not going to be a door-mat to anyone. I am also a very good pickle ball player. I have told many, many men in the last eight months that I do not want or need their coaching. I have had male partners tell me where to stand, when to come to the net, how to serve, etc. all of which I completely ignore. I withhold eye contact with those guys and freeze ‘em out. I pretend I’m playing alone. They can go to hell. The game will be over soon and I’ll have a different partner who is not so insecure or whatever the problem with this one is.

When summer arrives our pickle ball venues become inundated with children at summer day camps and the availability of gym time is at a premium. Translation: there are not as many places and times to play so the ones where we can get very, very crowded. This is when we have to figure out systems for rotations for use of pickle ball courts.

Recently three men and I were having a discussion about how that rotation should work. Seems everyone has a different opinion. I play at so many different venues (and most people don’t) so I’ve learned several different ways to do the rotation and I participated in the conversation wholeheartedly. The younger men are used to strong women in these kinds of situations, of course, but apparently the older ones are not.

After that dialogue we came to an agreement on some rotation systems to experiment with. Half an hour later I was sitting on the bleachers next to a 78 year old man who had been part of the rotation discussion.

“There are a lot of alpha personalities in the room,” he said.

“Yes there are,” I agreed, “maybe because this is a competitive sport.”

He leaned into me. “There are a lot of FEMALE alpha personalities in here,” he said.

“Yes,” I said, “and I know I’m one of them if that is what you are trying to say .”

“Well,” he said, “some men don’t like to argue with women.”

I’m positive my jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. To me this implied there are “people” and there are “women”.  I was flabbergasted.

I turned my head slowly and looked him in the eyes.

“That is too damn bad,” I said quietly.

He has treated me like a queen every time I’ve see him since that day.

 

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Loose Screws in Texas

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“Bounce it! Bounce it!” a person named Susan was shouting at me from the other side of the net.

“I know the rules, Susan!!” my voice was raised as I whacked the ball as hard as I could back over the net aiming for her head.

I missed her head and the ball flew out of bounds (It surely would have been a home run had I been playing baseball) and I lost the point. I am normally not at all mean spirited but this woman was obnoxious and had been adamantly bossing us all around.

“Susan,” our coach Dave said gently, “if this had been tournament play you would have lost that point for shouting over the net to your opponent!” Susan glared at him menacingly and if looks could kill, coach would be dead.

I have recently taken up Pickle Ball. I wish it were called something else because that doesn’t sound very fierce but it is a fast paced game and a cross between badminton and tennis. The court is one-third the size of a tennis court and much of the game is played volleying at the net. It’s the fastest growing sport in the country because the baby boomers are aging (me) and it’s not as hard on the body as tennis but just as much fun. I am happy to say I am a very good pickle ball player as the skills I acquired playing 15 years of tennis were directly transferable to the sport. It is a very convenient sport if you are the victim of the dreaded Dallas weather of severe ice storms, extreme winds, torrential rain, oppressive humidity and outrageous heat because it is played indoors in a gym.

Dave is a youthful 71 years old, is very outgoing and gregarious, has a charming South African accent and an irrepressible sense of humor. I have so much fun with him. I also have a great time with the other women in our group.

“Dave!” Susan shouted, “You have to quit calling the score! Whoever is serving should call the score! It’s incorrect in Pickle Ball for one person to call the score, Dave!” Scoring in Pickle Ball is very confusing and is the only thing I didn’t pick up immediately and am still struggling with.

“I want him to call the score, Susan!” I loudly interjected, “I’m still learning the scoring!” Mitra backed me up by forcefully saying she also wanted him to call score.

Things were getting really weird and Dave made an attempt to lighten things up and with a delightful smile on his face he said, “Susan, quit bossing me around. You are not my wife,” as he walked away to get some water.

“Thank god I am not your wife. I wake up every morning and thank god I am not your wife!!” Susan viciously asserted.

It was so bizarre and I was realizing this woman has a real screw loose and I couldn’t help laughing as Dave approached me. “Did you hear what she just said?” I said.

“What?” he said. I repeated her comment.

“Do you think she knows the feeling is mutual?” Dave laughed.

As we said our goodbyes and see you next week Susan said she would not be there next week. It was all the rest of us could do not to break into applause.