NO MATTER WHERE I GO---I'M NOT THERE

Or, perhaps, better put--"No matter where I go I am everywhere."
That sounds grandiose but I think I mean it.
I have gone virtual in my sense of  home.
I love it and I hate it.

I am used to travel.  I traveled globally  on a regular basis for my work. And  I have five adult children, some far flung, that my husband and I try to visit at least once a year.  And I live in Mexico for four months or more every year.

And it used to be that I kind of shut off one world while I was in another.
I mentally hit "yellow" and minimized the other world while my real self  came to the fore in the new world.
Do I sound nuts?
I would email of course, but my core was where my body was.
I switched gears and shut off the other world.
Now it is different.
My core is where my computer is.
Everyone exists with equal reality and attention all the time.

I love it.
I get daily videos of my newest grandchild.
I am constant touch with my extended family who are in crisis of various sorts.
Friends expect contact just like a regular lunch date.
I sense my "people" all the time in a very real sense.
I work easily with global clients no matter where I am.
I play games with people all over the world.

I have a son I play on-line Scrabble with who kills me at the game.  I love my son and would like to clobber the guy I play with.  See what I mean about disorientation?

And I hate it

I am in Mexico and my friends and family in Maine feel more real than those here.

And vice -versa.

For instance a friend in Mexico had very serious surgery.  I e-mailed him frequently from Maine.  Now I am in Mexico and I still e-mail him way more than I see him.

I have no excuse not to be in touch with people when I want a respite from contact.

I shut myself off from the physical world for the virtual.

It is a beautiful morning in Mexico right now.  Cool breeze, pepper trees swaying,  bougainvillea shockingly bright and this screen is a magnet for my attention.

I am talking about a profound shift not just email tribulations.

I carry so much more with me all the time.  Even in a good way, it is too rich.

So many possibilities that all are slightly diluted.

So many more people to care about in an up-close way.

Let me be clear.

I like it more than I don't.

But I remember postcards and privacy, so I am getting my bearings in a new way about simultaneous

"being together"  all of the time.

How nuts am I?

Does this make sense to anyone else?

No matter where I go, I am everywhere.

GARBLED THOUGHTS ON BOSTON VIA MEXICO

My thoughts and feeling just won't settle.
I know I hate hate.
I know I love the Boston Marathon and all it represents.
I know I was thrilled by the capture of both brothers--thrilled.
I know I want full justice and compassion.  Both
I know I hate hate
I know I don't want there to be a TV theme song for the Boston Marathon bombing.
I know I don't want tragedy turned into entertainment.
I know I don't want Boston itself to matter more than the victims.
I know that there is no full proof security for living--never has been, never will.
I know I don't want to change our world in the US in order to think we can be perfectly secure.
I know I hate hate
I know I love to see Boston cops loved and honored.
I know I am always touched to see how everyday people are generous, decent and even transcendent.
I know I trust the everyday people of the United States.
I know I hate hate.
Therefore, I choose love.
AND I hate how hard it is to refuse to hate back.
More, I don't know.

LET'S HEAR IT FOR EXUBERANCE!!!!!!!!!!

From Maine in March to Mexico!!! Ola!
I am exuberant!!

EXUBERANCE---------

*Makes a lot of noise from Mariachi music to noisy mufflers

*Is disorganized in the best way. Dig around.  Find what you want.

*Flashes clashes of color.  Purple and red are wonderful together.

*Has lots of energy.  Your body has to move with it.  Dance, jump, talk with your hands.

*Gives you too much of everything all at once.  The best kind of gluttony.

*Says, "Yes, let's do it now!"

*Expands even into chaos, but  doesn't stagnate.

*Is brash.

*Is tangible joy.

*Is a relief from too much order.

I am in Mexico where exuberance comes naturally.
I wish that a little easy exuberance comes  to all of you this week.

I AM SPUTTERING!!

A truth burp is a truth burp.  It is spontaneous.  You, yourself are surprised by it.  Out it comes.
And you have to honor it.   I almost faked it this week.

But here it is.

Are we back in the 70's?
I wrote lightly a couple of weeks ago about being a lousy feminist.
But I'm not.  I wasn't.  Not about the big stuff.


I have no problem with Sheryl Sandberg's book LEAN IN except that it had to be written.
And that it mirrors so many that were written in the 70's.
And I'm sorry that she has an Ann Hathaway- like backlash. Somehow her words feel glib and they are not.


I too was a woman executive (EVP) and  often the only woman at the table and surely the first to give a Board presentation.  (When by the way, I was almost late for my presentation because my Executive Committee male colleagues all rode home from a night before  dinner in the same van and decided to change the time.  I was put in the van with the women spouses so didn't know about the change.  The women spouses were lovely company so I shrugged it off--and almost missed my presentation.)
So I know of which I speak.  Of which I sputter!

I did lean in Sheryl.
I did sit at the table--invited or not
I did battle any interior reservations I hadbecause I wanted to get something important done.
I did and do speak my truth
I did laugh about even thinking of doing it all
I did know there was no ladder: I wended my way.
I did assume my husband was an equal partner and we still argue about what that means.
I did have a mentor but we never made it self-conscious or duty bound by saying it out loud
I did prefer to be likable and occasionally "sucked-up" as my male colleagues would say but I didn't put that first.
I did talk about equality every time there was an inadvertent (or vertent) insult, or visibility issue (no golf for me) but not more than I talked about the business.
I did have kids and no household help and very few kid sitters (few are hardy enough for five children)
I did love my work.
I did have a husband who also loved his.
I did know I was a pioneer and a role model.
I did work to develop women leaders.

I do know that all of this was hard on my family and good for my family.
I do know my ambition came from love of the work and need for the money.
I do know it was not at all story book pretty.

But here is why I sputter:
In one day:

*I  heard that my state legislator put on paper his thought about being against equal pay for women in small businesses because it was a cost small business could not bear.

*The  President who, in a formal moment, referred to the attractiveness of a competent professional.
(Informal in a group-- fine. Who doesn't like to be called attractive?  Formal moment--no.

 *An article on whether men should do half the housework in a non- woman's magazine.

Tip of the iceberg on issues that have been raised for almost thirty years. But here they still are.
What happened?
Did it get just "good enough"?
Did we lose our nerve?
Did we settle for a kind of subsistence nod of the head like nursing rooms at the company but still a demand to be back at work too soon after birthing a child that necessitates the nursing room itself?
Did we make such good money, albeit not equal to our male colleagues, that we got placated?
Did the economic boom mask gender issues?  Are unmasked as times are tough?

Well, I'm glad I'm back to mad.
Thirty years.  Same themes.  Not OK.
I sputter.

I LOVE SUGAR!!!

There.  I said it.
Come on, it's not as bad as bad fats, right?
I know.  I know.
We eat 10 million pounds of it a year.  And it triggers  hormonal chains of bad stuff.
I do  buy Stevia.  In fact, my daughter-in-law actually kissed me and said, "I love you" when she saw Stevia on my shelf.
But my oh my a little sugar can make the day or soothe a soul.
I've had quite the Winter.  Deaths, births, illness, loss.
And sugar has seen me through.
A donut a day keeps Hari-Kari away.
And I do mean a donut a day.
The donut shop right across from my gym led me to perdition--and salvation.
After working out!
I would sit and sigh and dunk my donut.
I switched to ice cream when the local ice cream stand opened for the Spring.
Soft serve (probably made with Crisco) with a hot fudge/strawberry combo topping.
Slurp, slurp sugaring my way to comfort.

And Easter was the culmination.
Lemon bars, See's candy, Jelly beans.
Sated at last.

So I am coming off my addiction.
It's time to scour my innards.
Life has begun to right itself.

But I am glad sugar was there for me
The comfort I needed could have been so much worse.