Another Reason to Love Madeleine Albright
I have always loved Madeleine Albright.
My dream as a girl was to become the first woman Secretary of State. It was the only secretarial job I was ever interested in. I still imagine it as my dream job. You get to travel all around the world as a person of influence, representing great power,and meet really interesting, history-making individuals. Albright beat me there as a history-maker herself, and as it turns out, some equally formidable women have since followed in her path.
I, of course, admire her as a woman of intelligence, depth, and substance. Secretly, however, I am heartened that a woman can accomplish so much, undeterred by really unfortunate hair. Of all my physical insecurities, hair has got to be number one. Like Madeleine, I too have really thin, fine hair. Her’s is more of a receeding hairline, where mine is more like my dad’s – a thinning patch right on top. (Maybe this wouldn’t bother me so much if I were tall.) So please, if you see me on the street, try not to stare at my head. I work very hard to maintain the illusion of “normal”.
And now I have another reason to love her even more: Today I have learned that she has a new book coming out called Read My Pins. Apparently, she used her jewelry as a diplomatic tool back in the day. Oh, as if I didn’t love her enough, to find she can accessorize with style and wit! What better way to make a point than with a pin?
I have decided that I shall adopt this practice. I have always loved “statement” jewelry, but I think I can take this to a whole new level. Now, anyone know where I can get a skull brooch that shoots lasers from its eye sockets?
Epic Bathroom Culture Clash
We have bathroom issues in my family. I may have mentioned this before.
I start to hyperventilate in public restrooms, and with 3 children, chances are good that I’ve visited every public restroom in my travel path for the past 15 years. I have done my best to instill in my children a healthy phobia of public bathrooms in conjunction with the eternal mortification of a potty accident. So what if we are on a razor wire of anxiety anytime we leave the house for more than an hour? I’m OK with that.
I am only too happy to pass on my bathroom issues to those I love, but my husband comes from another breed: those who fail to harbor any shame about what goes on behind closed doors. He grew up with only brothers. His mother, likewise, had only brothers. I can only surmise that she was desensitized early on to the inelegance of potty talk.
My family, on the other hand, would never acknowledge until my father was on his near-death bed (I am not making this up) that any of us actually pooped. In the close quarters of 2 weeks in an ICU and the horror of nearly losing my father, we had the perverse adreaction that inspired us to not only talk about our bathroom intentions, but to be most creative in compiling our favorite euphemisms for this particular bodily funtion. (My personal favorite: dropping the kids off at the pool. Trust me you will never actually be able to drop your kids off at the pool with a straight face again.)
But I digress…Prior to this life changing event, my mother stalwartly refused, and continues to this day, to keep reading material in the bathroom. I’ve never seen my dad casusally go in or out of the bathroom with even a section of newspaper. This sort of behavior would be simply beyond the pale of social decency. My husband, though, never goes in empty handed. Whether it’s a golf score card, magazine or novel, the volume of reading material he will store in the bathroom is only limited by square footage.
I tend to side with my mother on this one, and I’ve fought this battle for years. So I guess it was just a matter of time before the boy (who had figured out how to watch TV while – erm – indisposed) would emerge from the bathroom with a Sports Illustrated tucked under his arm. (I think it is no coincidence that this was the week after he began football practice.)
What’s a selectively anal-retentive girl to do? Am I in a losing battle?
Random Slice
On the way way home from a doctor’s appontment with my 14 year old daughter.
Kyle: Do you think doctor’s get lunch breaks?
Me: I expect so.
Kyle: Cuz, if I ever become a doctor…
Me: You’re going to need to eat?
Kyle: Yeah. If I’m a doctor, the food thing is really gonna be important.
