Gender Issues

I have told this story to several of my friends and family, so if you have heard it, then just slide your little arrow cursor up to the upper right hand corner and hit the white X in the red box. Check back in a week or so for another blog if interested.

For the rest of you, I had an amusing and yet perplexing interaction with my darling grandson, Jack, that stirred up some thoughts. I visited him this past weekend and before he and his sister Ruby, and their parents arrived at the hotel I had reserved, I ran out with my girlfriend, Fern, to a local store to stock up on goodies. I saw a Cinderella Barbie doll, and since the kids had just been to Disneyworld, I bought it for Ruby. I bought an electronic game for Jack.

Jack seemed quite taken with the doll and kept wanting to take it from Ruby to play with, causing the normal sibling squall. I asked Jack if he wanted one for himself and he said yes, so we went on a shopping excursion of our own. But, in the car, Jack asked me to be sure to tell anyone who asked that I was buying it for Ruby and for me to carry it to the check-out. I reassured him that it was OK to have a doll but that I would do what he wanted. Jack chose Snow White. Of course, the clerk at the check-out immediately looked at Jack and commented about his new doll. Jack looked so uncomfortable - I was amazed.

Jack told me that he had danced with Cinderella at a Disney dinner in Orlando and his expression when I asked what he thought of her was priceless. He looked like a Disney character who sees a cute cartoon female - with pupils dilating and little hearts beating in the air around his head . I think he was "twitterpated."

Over the next day or so, Jack and I played with the dolls. At first we made up stories and shared rides in our coaches and talked about our husbands (who were both Prince Charming?) but later the play became Jack sticking a pen in Snow White's belt and flying her around the room. Jack became more comfortable and took Snow White to restaurants without embarrassment. I asked Matt, his dad, if Jack was still playing with her when they got back to Toledo but I guess the novelty had worn off.

The interesting thing about this little story is that Jack has just turned 5. And yet, somehow he already felt like he should not have a doll. And, when I told a few different males about this issue, they all seemed to smirk and although they didn't say it (except for Sam), I know they were thinking either he is a sissy, or gay, or somehow strange! The only totally cool male about it was his dad, thank goodness!

The incident stirred up a memory of an article that I read in Ms. Magazine in the early 1980's. Matt was a preschooler and I remember that the writer was discussing the issue of parenting a boy in a gender neutral way. Her one comment that always stuck with me was that she would probably be totally comfortable taking her daughter anywhere in public dressed in a football uniform, but would she take her boy in public dressed in a tutu??

Obviously, it is much easier for girls than boys to cross over the boundaries that society has placed on us. I can wear pants anywhere. But, Harry in a dress?

My Lath House

Most of my adult life, I have coveted greenhouses. I think I may have inherited a genetic love of sticking my hands in dirt from my maternal grandmother. I understand that her gardens were spectacular, and according to my mother, she would much rather be out tending her beds than cleaning or cooking. I wonder what she wore?? I tend to garden in old shorts and tees and be covered in dirt. I cannot imagine her wearing anything other than long dark dresses and practical shoes, if old black and white family photos are accurate. I never knew her and wish I could now. She could tell me about her plants. She would decorate the alter at church with her flowers, and according to my Aunt Betty, her blue delphinium and pale pink Dr. Van Fleet rose combos were amazing.

Since I joined the Orchid and Bromeliad Club of Key Largo, I have started coveting shade houses. Instead of bringing light in to plants, down here you have to keep light out. I only have so many spots on trees and on benches under trees and hanging on hooks from trees to put my orchids. I approached Harry with the idea of a lath house, which is what was used in the "olden days" before the high tech shade fabrics were invented. I like the look much better. Harry was enthusiastic and after deliberating and studying the best approach, we made a design and got to work. The first four posts took nine hours to dig in. We had to go down 18" and since we live on coral rock, that ain't so easy. I need to be sure that if a hurricane blows in, my structure doesn't blow out. Harry did the rest of the construction. I think he did a spectacular job and I am so excited. I have about half of my collection in there now and so much room to add more. Orchids are like crack to enthusiasts. We want more!

Snow Globe on My Shoulders

I woke up this morning thinking about my recent thought processes. I do alot of my best imagery in the early hours and wonder if I dream what I wake up thinking about. The image that came to me was that my brain was a snow globe and someone has just shaken me violently and I have got swirls of obsessive thoughts like little white flakes of detritus clouding my clear view.

It all started Monday, when I finally had my deposition by the evil Welliver's lawyer. What a "ginormous" waste of my time and my money since I had to have my $375 an hour lawyer there also. The deposition is part of our case that is now 18 months old against a couple who we knew (and I thought were our friends) who offered us a 5% ownership of a motel in the Keys in exchange for Harry's help in finding them a property (which he did), getting them financing based on his existing reputation with the local banks as a motel operator and his future involvement (which he did), and our getting the property operating and provide ongoing supervision (which we did). And, when the closing was done, and the operation was running after months of our work, they reneged on their offer. The deposition involved 5 hours of repetitive useless questioning. I must have said "you have already asked that and I have already answered that" a hundred times. The only fun I had was when our lawyer, who is Jewish, kept harping to the other lawyer that it was Passover and that she needed to get the deposition finished and go home for Seder. She did that to aggravate the Welliver's, because Robert Welliver called in a drunken state late one night and called Harry a fat Jew bastard. He sure didn't care if Harry was Jewish when he got that huge loan thanks to Mr. Harry Caplan.

The next day followed with more drama of a family nature. Complications over a planned vacation with kids and kid's in-laws that got more and more involved until I decided to step out of the equation and plan something a little less complicated and not have to share my grand kids.

But the interesting thing is why the brain has times of peacefulness and clarity and other times of cloudiness and obsessive thinking? Why sleep comes so easily some nights and other nights are fitful. Why memories and thoughts seem to get stirred up and then like the white flakes in the snow globe, have to drift calmly down until they are settled and undisturbed once again.

Tree Murderer part 2

The City of Marathon Biologist for Protected Species stopped by our property to take a look. She laughed. Oh yeah, she agreed. A direct line of foliage damage/death from our neighbor's balcony to the ocean view. Now we have to have the soil tested. Too bad none of the foliage was "protected" or we wouldn't have to do a thing. They really go after anyone who touches the wrong leaves down here!