Here's to Happy Women...

Somewhere on my long and winding road to enlightenment, I read that the invention of the printing press was said to have destroyed the medieval sense of community and social integration. After doing a bit of research, I remembered my source for this kernel of knowledge, and can attribute it to Neil Postman. He was a prominent American educator and media critic who was also a successful (and proliferate) writer. A common theme for Postman was rapidly changing technology and how it relates to communication and social interaction. More specifically — television and its demeaning effects on political discourse and education. There are many compelling passages in Postman’s work, but I am captivated by the following excerpt from a speech he gave at a meeting of the German Informatics Society, sponsored by IBM-Germany. “Anyone who has studied the history of technology knows that technological change is always a Faustian bargain: Technology giveth and technology taketh away, and not alway...

If we have to ask, then we already know the answer. Why then do we ask the question? For false reassurance? For the truth? Either way it’s a lose-lose situation. It's not even a real question. We only ask this faux question if we think the pants make us look fat. Therefore, it doesn’t matter what anyone else has to say. Yes or no, only our opinion counts. Those who are drawn into this sticky web are doomed, whether they tell a little white lie or the truth. A lie is a lie, white or not. Once we know someone has lied to us — and believe me, we do know — we start to wonder what else rings false. The truth can be just as dangerous. It often leads to hurt feelings, frustration, and sadly, “lights out” in the bedroom. Sure, the truth may lead to a few sessions on the treadmill, but the truth also hurts. It will continue to sting long after the offended bootie has been chiseled and toned. Gone...but definitely not forgotten. You can relax — obsession with our bodies and staying fi...

Why do we do things that are bad for us...knowingly? It seems like only yesterday that my mother was covering my face with zinc oxide, telling me to stay out of the sun — t hat it was bad for my fair Irish skin. Did I follow her advice? Not always. My father smoked and suffered with emphysema. I witnessed the health risks firsthand — yet I took up smoking in my late twenties, and struggle with quitting every few years. I am a mature, intelligent woman. Yet I still smoke an d occasionally go out in the sun unprotected. But that’s me. I’m not looking for any lectures on the perils of smoking — I know all of them. In fact, I knew then what I know now. Will I quit again soon? Yes. Will it last? I don’t know. I’m also fully aware of the effects of sun damage. Would have, could have, and should have comes to mind. I say these words every year as I go to the dermatologist for a skin check-up. But this article is not all about me. So please, don’t send me any helpful hints on beating m...

On an exceptionally dark night recently , I was driving home from an appointment and missed the easy right turn into my neighborhood. The SUV in front of me — and the family within — had distracted me. I guess I wanted to see what was playing in their cozy little “backseat” cinema. Let me correct that statement: I couldn’t miss what was playing – it was unmistakable and annoying. Sure, I’ve seen “Finding Nemo” before...just not front and center while driving down the road. To get back home, I had to drive an extra half-mile, wait to make a u-turn, and then drive another half-mile back, and then wait again to make the final left turn. All because of a clown fish who couldn’t find his way back home. Irony at its best — or rather, worst. When I told my husband about my distraction, he laughed and said that he sees this quite often. He also tol d me about a recent television program he watched. He described a scenario with a family driving through a gorgeous national park, with the k...

In one of his classic comedy routines, George Carlin says that a house is "just a pile of stuff with a cover on it," and, "If you didn't have so much stuff, you wouldn't need a house. You could just walk around all the time." I see his point and I raise him one. I think a house is also a guardian for our "space," which is just as important as the stuff we cram into that space. This routine reminds me of a close friend that I have known for many years. She can't commit to marriage or cohabitation. Why? I believe it's a "space" issue, as in " my space is my space." She is unwilling (or unable) to share her space on a permanent basis. This "unwilling to commit" fri end owns a nice large house, and has for quite a few years. She is in a long-term monogamous relationship with a significant other who also owns a nice large home. On a weekly basis, this couple goes between two houses. One night here, two nig...