New Year, 2020

It’s been a perfectly lazy holiday break. Howie and I have watched way too much Netflix. When he watched sports, I alternated between Dr. Who and Dexter. The most constructive thing I’ve done in the last two weeks is let my hair grow. I’m at an age where appearance options are reduced to cute, drab, or fierce. I’ve allowed myself to verge on drab long enough; I’m too lazy for cute, and therefore I’m considering going full-on Patti Smith (without the pigtails). Though I may never possess her fierceness, I can at least look like I might.
I know women who have the ability to frighten young men and small children. They relish their capacity and I admire them. Some of these women keep cats, but I’m a dog girl by nature—and horoscope. This year being a Year of the Rat, I’m hoping it will bring out a bit more “wolf in the forest” than my natural tendency toward “squirrel chasing stray or curled up and dreaming in a warm corner.”
Holidays are over and it’s time to come out of my cozy space, stand up, and face the world again. I stand behind women who are taking on the patriarchy, bigotry and inhumanity. I stand beside women (and men) who are truthful and just, and who respect the planet and all its creatures.
There are many fierce women I admire (with good hair and bad, pigtails and not) but only one has a birthday today.
Happy Birthday Patti.

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