2010. Day three. Really? The idea of starting a blog has been swirling around in my brain for months now; now is the time to just do it before the swirl gets lost in my menopausal brain. Those of you who are going or have gone through "the change" understand; those who have not, well, be afraid...be very afraid.
So here I am. I always liked the idea of a Renaissance woman, which is completely contrary to how women were expected to behave during the actual Renaissance era. My new definition is a woman who wants to learn and do everything she can; at least the things she is interested in. My grandma Cecil was my inspiration. I thought she could do everything. A child of the Depression, she knew how to make do with almost nothing, raising five children almost single-handedly. (Grandpa, bless his heart, was a dreamer, not a doer.) I could spend days writing down things I remember about my grandmother, but perhaps the single inspirational moment was seeing her pull out a hammer and start hammering nails into wood to fix something. I'd no idea a woman could do that.
The gift that most of us have today is that we have choices. Cecil didn't have much of those; she was too busy putting food on the table for all those hungry mouths to even think about choices.
So here we are, 2010. Someone said we are supposed to say "twenty-ten", not "two thousand ten". Who cares, really? It's all the same to me. Cecil isn't here anymore, but I wonder what she would think. I know what she would say... "You just don't know..." and I don't. I don't know what is going to happen next. And isn't not knowing one of the most exciting parts of the journey?
So here I am. I always liked the idea of a Renaissance woman, which is completely contrary to how women were expected to behave during the actual Renaissance era. My new definition is a woman who wants to learn and do everything she can; at least the things she is interested in. My grandma Cecil was my inspiration. I thought she could do everything. A child of the Depression, she knew how to make do with almost nothing, raising five children almost single-handedly. (Grandpa, bless his heart, was a dreamer, not a doer.) I could spend days writing down things I remember about my grandmother, but perhaps the single inspirational moment was seeing her pull out a hammer and start hammering nails into wood to fix something. I'd no idea a woman could do that.
The gift that most of us have today is that we have choices. Cecil didn't have much of those; she was too busy putting food on the table for all those hungry mouths to even think about choices.
So here we are, 2010. Someone said we are supposed to say "twenty-ten", not "two thousand ten". Who cares, really? It's all the same to me. Cecil isn't here anymore, but I wonder what she would think. I know what she would say... "You just don't know..." and I don't. I don't know what is going to happen next. And isn't not knowing one of the most exciting parts of the journey?
