Monday, April 24, 2017

Science is real

Science is real. Indeed, without science my children would be impossible. The odds of my procreating with anyone - much less a skinny red headed student fifteen years my junior - were slim to none. And yet, science and progressive thought - why can't men donate their sperm so that people can anonymously conceive? - made my family possible. For that I am truly grateful. It's not hard to imagine, in the current political environment, a time in which vials of sperm are only allowed for heterosexual married couples. 

Wednesday I take B up to his new school to be properly registered (I had a mountain of paperwork to fill out, dental and doctor check ups, and fishing out birth certificates and proof of address to do first); hopefully I'll get them both settled in their summer programs before I leave for Korea next week (a reprise of last year's wonderful singing gig in Seoul). 

My friends that wanted us to join them at a Swing camp in Sweden this summer have flaked out as I half suspected they might; I took the liberty of booking a Hawaii trip similar to last years' for my birthday in July. This time it'll be Kauai and with the BF. Hopefully I can fix my Kauai Curse - the first trip that my aunt died during; the second with a new baby and toddler that was so stressful I had to cut it short and come home. As long as the BF and I manage to not break up right before it like we did last time-! We had a good laugh about that. 

I survived a chaotic birthday party of the class bully and his Trump supporting parents at the local Chuck E Cheese. God that place is awful. But at least with all the distraction of trying to help a five year old play complex arcade games I didn't get to - or have to - interact with any of the parents. It's kind of a drag we got through one child's entire preschool experience without ever getting to know anyone, but oh well. The elementary school is very parent involvement heavy, so I see that trend reversing in the near future! 

 

Sunday, April 16, 2017

Yard egg hunt 2.0

Yesterday I participated in the "show us your taxes" anti-Trump march. Here is the sign the BF made for me: 


As with all marches, it was awesome. Next week is the science march. I wish I could do this every weekend. Every. Frickin. Weekend.

Unfortunately after a cold, a Friday night shouting over a loud band (our drummer's solo project), and marching Saturday and talking and shouting, I have now completely lost my voice. Have you ever tried to be a parent to two small children with no voice? It fucking sucks. Still, we survived another yard egg hunt and a long day at a national park with some aplomb. Now I would like to collapse in a pile of peanut butter cups, s'il vous plait.

 


 
 
 

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

Big boys

A delightful development has happened since the time change - every day after school (we get home at 6 PM), the boys insist on playing outside until dinner. It's something I always dreamed about - children frolicking in the yard, me pushing open a screen door to yell, "dinner!" and children scampering in to wash up and devour. Yes, that moment is here. I have two boys who can talk, play, and (kind of) use the potty on their own accord (after weeks of accidents, yesterday Theo started using the potty on his own without prompting).

The yard playing is not without peril. The front yard is on a steep slope and full of pointy cacti and succulents; we live on a busy street with a seemingly endless stream of homeless sauntering by to pick through our garbage. There are sharp drops into concrete stairs. The back is no better - a dirty strip of concrete next to a very climbable wall next to a pool. In short, my yards are pretty much the most non-kid friendly imaginable. However, so far so good (except that one time the kids pushed furniture up to the wall and played around the pool after I told them not to - let's just pretend that never happened). Being hyper vigilant, every time they're out there I run and check on them every two seconds. I might even re purpose my baby monitor to keep an eye on them more effectively. But, they love it, it's good for them to have little adventures in nature (or yard is teeming with native plants, humming birds, lizards, citrus fruits and trees), and I feel like this is one of those times I need to give them a little freedom. And it doesn't hurt that them expelling energy outside is way better than inside.

I performed in DC this weekend, the same event that marked my return to "the road" this time last year. I had a lot of anxiety around it - intimidating ballroom, big crowd, singing with our big band which I rarely do, new songs, one song with a scary high note that could have gone either way. But I got through it, met up with a blog reader friend one day and my old mommy & me friend who moved away two years ago on the next day. Damn, I miss her. She was my compatriot from when Bobby was just a baby, providing solace and commiseration and support and friendship when I needed it most. And she's really fucking cool. Sigh. Well, at least if we keep this gig going I'll get to see both of these ladies once a year!

 

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Joint birthday in the bag

We celebrated Bobby and Theo's joint 3rd and 5th birthdays on Saturday. I'm not sure how much longer I can get away with joint birthdays - but boy is it convenient! I used the same indoor play space as last year, which meant a quick in and out with minimal effort other than making the cake (which this year I made from scratch using a 1930s devil's food cake recipe) and assembling the goody bags. Bobby requested a Nightmare Before Christmas theme which was a huge hit among my artsy friends' kids.

 

My sister came to visit for a few days. The boys were so excited about her visiting and the party that it was a bit like having two Tasmanian devils in the house all weekend. After we dropped her off at the airport they were a mess of torturing each other in the car - stealing toys from their car seats, crying, screaming. It was awful. Finally taking Theo to school he broke down in sobs, and I asked if he was sad because his aunt went home, and he pitifully nodded yes as tears rolled down his cheeks. Oh, these little kids. It's so easy to forget that they can't regulate their emotions yet. In my better moments I remember this and am kind and gentle; in my worse moments I bark at them to stop driving me crazy. Sigh. And so it goes. 

In other news, despite my decision not to invite any preschool friends to the party, Bobby has received an invitation...from his "frenemy", the class bully who's parents voted for Trump. What to do? Do I really want to spend the day in the presence of these a-holes and their rotten kid? No, but I must, because it's not about me, it's about Bobby, and he wants to go, and so we will. Can't say I won't wear my Uppity Women Unite pin, though. 

 

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

The factory is closed

It dawned on me the other day that my mother's third marriage - the only one of four I was present for - happened when she was 45, which I will be in a few months. I remember my sister and I joking with her about having another baby. She would wryly respond, "the factory is closed". Which is my current response when people ask me if I'm going to try for a third. That and the standard Californian, "yeah, no."

Lately I've had lots of occasion to talk to single mothers of one toddler about their desire for a second. All are, as I was, very apprehensive about taking on a second child. And I am far too honest a person to try to bullshit them into it with stories of adorable toddlers holding hands or amusing each other or riding seesaws together. Oh, if it were only that all of the time. But it is soooo not.

As the more jaded of my friends warned me, almost all of your time is spent refereeing fights, largely over toys and who gets to do something/have something first. To be brutally honest, I find I have fallen into the habit of just letting Bobby do things first because it's just easier - Theo doesn't seem to notice or care (probably used to it), and Bobby puts up a royal fight if it goes the other way. Often times I wonder if I created a monster by doing this - but oh my god, the sheer exhaustion of each day, adding into that arbitrary things that are going to cause my soon-to-be five year old to completely freak out, make me have to threaten and/or enact punishments, and invariably make us late for something? Fuck it. Bobby learns all about sharing and taking turns at school. He's awesome with other kids, especially little ones. So I must be doing something right. 

I was honest with the women contemplating two children and told them I'm not sure I'd do it again if I knew how hard it would be. This is the ugly truth. It doesn't mean I wish Theo away - he's amazing and lovely and awesome - but parenting two young children alone is fucking brutal and exhausting, and I say this even with preschool giving me much needed free time and at the end of a rare and delightfully illness-free winter. 

Of course, I have no idea what my life would have been like with just Bobby. Would I be full of regret that I didn't provide him with a sibling? Would whatever issues I have with him fill the space and be just as exhausting/exasperating as the issues I have with two? Would he be needier or more selfish with no brother? Would I be a different, worse parent? 

I mentioned to one friend that I had two mainly so I wouldn't regret not doing it. She made the point that maybe living in fear of regretting doing or not doing things isn't the best strategy, and I have to agree. Then again, many women have confided in me that they wouldn't have had even one baby if they'd really known how hard it is. I believe I fall into this category a lot of the time. Still...I understand the kind of emotional/social/societal/hormonal pressure I was under in the fall of 2010 when I made this grand decision. I couldn't not have done it, really. And so here we are

I once asked my bandleader friend, who was bemoaning his wife's torrid baby fever, "do you have any idea what it's like, being a woman, being absolutely compelled to do something that you know is going to fuck up your whole life?"

I still cling to the concept that children are all about long-term investment. Not much going on in the early years - a whole lot of stress and worry and exhaustion - followed by hopefully the joy of having raised fine human beings who might even bless you with some ego-satisfying grandchildren. Well, that's my story and I'm sticking to it!


 

Monday, March 13, 2017

Theo is three

What a difference a year makes, huh? This is the difference between two and three - and also, a child that's had help socializing at preschool and one who had yet to have that experience. It's going to be a rough year with my newly minted threenager, but we'll make it! Onward we go to four! 

 

 

Thursday, March 9, 2017

Kindergarten tour

Today was the day I've been anticipating with bated breath for years - the day I get a registration packet for and a tour of the kids' future school, which Bobby will join in just a few months. 

Walking on to the campus I've walked by countless times (it's on a main drag that I used to walk a couple of times a week) was surreal. Can it be I am the parent of a *gulp* school-aged kid? At last? And that by the time both kids leave this school, I will be in my late fifties? Who knows what will be going on in my life then? Will I still be running this camp, living in this house, in this relationship? Who knows?

I started the orientation with that vaguely panicky and overwhelmed feeling I get whenever I'm embarking on a new social experience...I feel entirely unprepared for the rigors of "real" school; helping with homework and school projects, fund raising, having to get up early and be places on time. I feel like I've just been playing at being a parent all this time...now it's the real deal. Am I up to the challenge? Still, my level of discomfort with all these new responsibilities can't possibly match my son's. This is a big leap for him. I'm going to try to be there for him emotionally as much as possible. Big changes!

In other news, my estranged father left me a voicemail tonight asking me to call him. So often I give thanks that I don't have the burden of both young children and ailing parents at the same time; then things like this happen and suddenly I'm thrust back into the role of Adult Daughter of a Crazy Person. Good times. 

 

Sunday, March 5, 2017

School Daze

Bobby's future elementary school is having tours on Thursday. It's a good thing I randomly called to find out when the tours are, otherwise I would have missed it. It's at 8:30 AM so I will most likely go by myself rather than hauling two sleepy kids out of bed. It's a big moment. These kids will hopefully be at this school until 6th grade (I say "hopefully" because at this moment I'm not entirely convinced there will be public schools - or even any living things on earth - by the end of this administration that shall remain nameless). I so hope both the kids get good groups of kids in their grades. There's one little bully in B's preschool class - who at the same time is kind of B's friend - who I notice messes up the dynamic of the whole class. B tells me whenever this kid is absent all the kids have a much better day and behave better. Sigh. I remember that from when I was a kid - the charismatic "leader" who was nonetheless an instigator and trouble maker, and how we were all oddly afraid of and yet seduced by him/her. I've explained to B what a "frenemy" is. Again, the current president comes to mind.

The kids' zoned elementary school is one of the best in Los Angeles, and for that I am profoundly grateful. I remember buying this house at 29 and my realtor singing the praises of the school district and how people come to the neighborhood just for that school; at the time, children seemed centuries away, and yet here we are. Based on the neighborhood demographics, the school should be made up of largely white affluent hippies and Hispanic immigrants or children of immigrants. Sounds like a good mix to me. I love that already most of B's friends are non-white. It's a good start to a hopefully diverse experience for him, even though he already is way more sheltered and privileged than I was at his age. 

So Thursday I get a glimpse into my future - the kids' teachers, environment, and other important information, like is there a school bus? What are the options for after school? And what about PTA involvement? I'm sure I'll be a very involved parent since most of the year I have the free time. 

Our leisurely preschool days are coming to a close. Three and a half more months left there, then swim camp at the Y for summer, then kindergarten in August. Here we go!

 

Thursday, February 23, 2017

Take No Prisoners

Theo's first day in underpants didn't go so hot. I walked in to school and saw his pants and underpants wadded up in a plastic baggie on top of his stuff, and said to him, "Theo, did you pee in your underpants??" and he gleefully shouted out, "yeah!!!" Uh boy. This may not be the slam-dunk I was hoping for!!!

In other news, I got slut shamed on Facebook late Tuesday night. Yep. It was my old "friends" at it again - the two guys who have had a hard on for me since one of them didn't make finals in my contests in September. In this episode, it was a picture of them and an old boyfriend of mine that I dated about 17 years ago, who later became a real menace and is the one I just had to ban from my event for sexual assault. Although he's been around I haven't actually spoken to him since about 2001 because I think he's just a big jerk (and apparently a sexual assaulter now too). We were never really together - it was a kind of dance partner/friends with benefits type deal. So anyway, my "friends" focus on this guy in the picture and start talking about how they'd never seen me happier than when I was with him, maybe I need to get with him again so I can be happy again, and a variety of other wink-wink nasty put downs of me, how they have video "evidence" (of some dance routine we did but the implication of something else), and of course bringing my event into it to trash it again. 

I got on and told them what would make me happiest is if they would leave the scene permanently. One of them said "we were talking about Hillary Clinton". Then I told them I was officially dropping them from my Hall of Fame - which I followed by immediately taking them off the list of Hall of Famers on my website. Being a Hall of Fame member also means lifetime free entrance to my event. Like I'm going to keep that privilege for people who treat me like this? What kind of a fucking doormat do they take me for?

At this point it was 2 AM so I just went to bed. The next morning the entire thread had been deleted, but some friends in my feminist group shared screenshots with me in which their stupid brain dead girlfriends vilified me for taking away their status that they "earned". Whatever. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. 

One of the guys involved sent me a groveling private apology, which I answered today in very harsh tones. He's done this many times - gone off online and then sends a private apology that his friend, the other guy, will never know about and think he's a pussy for sending. I told him it means nothing unless he makes it public. Which he won't. So that's that.

This whole situation to me is very similar to that guy who emailed to tell me I need to be removed from the stage when waiting to sing because I'm not constantly smiling. It's not about not being a good performer. It's about men desperately needing to control women - their appearance, their bodies, their sexual lives. These guys know how embarassed I am that I ever dated that asshole, and they know I banned him, so they did this solely to humiliate and discredit me (hence the term slut shame). It had nothing to do with kidding around. It was an intentional jab and character assassination. 

So I hurt them in the best way I could - took away the one legacy they could have left this world, their Hall of Fame status. Oh, they can still come to my event. But from now on they fucking pay me.

So I'm continuing my post-election Take No Prisoners attitude. I created a playlist for music on my phone called "Rage" and it's been my soundtrack. Here is my new FB profile picture:

 

Monday, February 13, 2017

Potties and Hotties

Today Theo's preschool teachers asked if I'd be willing to send him to school in underpants starting next week. Woo-hoo!

Truth be told Theo has been peeing and pooping on the potty for some time now, but I've been pretty inconsistent about keeping it going, partly because every time I ask if he wants to try he says no, and I don't want to force it, so I just leave it alone. But the babysitter has him on the potty every time she's here and he does great. I need to really commit to making potty training happen. I want to make sure he's able to advance to the next class at school which can only happen if he's out of diapers. Here we go! 

The craziness of my opening night settled pretty quickly - a few days of intense paperwork and all 340 people were manually typed into the system by me, and now I can go back to focusing on preparing for this year's taxes which is going to be extremely complicated. 

So tomorrow is Valentine's Day. I have a singing gig so there will be no big romantic plans, but I'll say things are really good between me and the BF and I'm really pleased with the way things are going. This time last year I was not in such a great place - I was seven pounds heavier and none of my clothes fit, I was fed up to the gills with his smoking, and not feeling very good about us. I never would have imagined a year later he'd be a non-smoker, living with me, and that I would feel really good about it all. So for that I am truly thankful.

 

Sunday, February 5, 2017

Opening night, part XX

So I opened for registration on Wednesday night.

The good news is, as opposed to last year's record of 125 people, this year I got over 300 people, about 200 in just a couple of minutes.

The bad news is, I was offering tiered pricing (as I have for the past few years), and the first two tiers sold out in about a minute. And people freaked out. I spent the entire night until about two AM fielding furious emails, phone calls and Facebook messages accusing me of running a scam, because "there's no way they sold out that fast". The meanness and conspiracy theory nature of these people seems to be coming from our general political environment. I had to offer several refunds, and offer many explanations and some apologies. About 50 people were happy (they got the big discount), and then another 300 or so were pissed off. And all I got out of it was a loss of $5,000 in how cheap those early prices were. So what, exactly, is the point?

Next year I think I'll offer a "24 hour sale" - think of a price I can live with, and offer it for the first day only, which is something people grasp a lot better than a tier that sells out. That way I'll get the money I need up front and people won't feel cheated. Win-win. 

So opening night was great and it also fucking sucked. Which I think is going to be the mantra for this difficult, giant year I have ahead of me - my big 20th anniversary - it's going to be huge, and it's going to be insanely stressful. 

I went to a march for healthcare on Saturday. Is there a chance California could enact its own universal healthcare? It's a long shot, but I am interested in the possibility. I met some interesting people, and one weird woman who hated the women's march and thought our pink hats were stupid. Pffft whatever, lady! Nobody asked you.

Today we had a fun day at a kid's birthday party. The boys' party s set for April 1st, since every weekend is booked at the space I want until then. Luckily the kids are too little to understand when their actual birthdays are, so hopefully they won't mind. Here's a pic from the party today that the boyfriend took while spinning him around. It's pretty much my favorite picture of him ever.

 

Friday, January 27, 2017

Backlash

I think a lot about how radically our lives will change in just a few months. Bobby starts kindergarten in August - his elementary school should have their annual tour in about a month or so. I need to double check with their preschool, but last I heard preschool technically ends for Bobby in June, which means for me finding a summer camp for him. I could keep him there but I'm quite interested in the local YMCA's swim camp. But all this means a radical lifestyle shift for us. We'll all be required to wake up about four hours earlier than we have been, which also means going to bed a lot earlier, too. It's going to be brutal. No more long leisurely mornings. My kids, like every kids on the planet, are the masters of procrastination. The other day I had to tell Bobby, "the answer to I need you to do something isn't yeah but I need to do this first, it's yes, mommy dearest!" Needless to say this fell on deaf ears. I shudder when I think of waking up at the crack of dawn and hustling kids into clothes and breakfast and teeth brushing and shoes...and both of them adjusting to spending full days somewhere instead of just afternoons. It's a lot. 

It's been a difficult week, returning from the march. I rather naively thought it would be nothing but awesome reports of how well everything went - and there was some of that - but there was also a massive, infuriating backlash, mostly from women. Yes, all those awesome white women who voted for Trump. Against my better judgment I found myself engaging in endless ugly confrontations on Facebook - something I never would have done before, but I suddenly find myself completely intolerant of people's ignorant, hateful bullshit - which were both fruitless and utterly demoralizing.

I also discovered something interesting, after banging my head against a brick wall all week. These so-called caring, interested women asking why we marched because they just want to understand - yeah, that is a giant, steaming pile of horseshit. They know why we marched. They don't listen when you explain, and deliberately pretend to not get it. They don't want to hear from us. They want to have a giant gang bang with all their little conservative buddies just for the purposes of confirmation bias, so they can go be all smug and self-satisfied, while we stupidly forward links and articles and give heart-felt personal stories. They don't give a SHIT. 

They're too busy bitching about how we left signs behind. Let's talk about millions of people marching peacefully with zero arrests. Leaving trash is the best you can do? Seriously? Meanwhile that monster rapes our country and the world and everyone cheers. Fuck off.

Anyway, wise to their ploys after falling for it all week, I devised this handy meme I'll use the next time someone pretends to give a shit about our causes. It will save lots of time to just post this instead of trying to have an actual conversation. 

 

Monday, January 23, 2017

And we marched

Recovering from the Women's March in Washington this weekend. I'm proud to be able to say, when asked, that at this terrible time, I was on the right side of history.

The march was so huge and overwhelming that I can't say I ever had that catch-in-your-throat, "I feel so invigorated!" feeling. I had this more at the first LA march because it was new to me then. Mostly this march was a logistical nightmare - trying to circumvent the massive crowds at the Metro station (Uber was our hero all weekend), trying, and failing, to meet up with various groups of people, leaving behind water and food because we weren't allowed to have large bags, only to sorely regret this decision later when we discovered there was nowhere to get food or water all day long, waiting for hours in port-a-potty lines, missing the speakers because we couldn't even get close to where the rally was happening and instead standing around freezing in the mud and cold with no idea what was happening, where we were going, or if the march was even going to happen or if we had managed to miss the whole thing.

Such is the experience of a massive march like this. Doesn't mean it wasn't important, meaningful, and galvanizing. But I think this whole thing was just so much bigger than anyone had imagined - as an event person, I sympathize that not all of our needs could be met and everything didn't run like clockwork. It went, it was safe and positive, and no arrests. The signs were awesome and creative:

 

 

 

And of course there was me:

 

And in the airport on my way. I got over 300 "likes" on this picture on FB:

 

...and...I can't believe LA beat Washington!!! More than a quarter of a million more people marched in my hometown. Apparently it was complete pandemonium - subways so packed they just opened the gates and let everyone in free; many of my friends (including the BF) couldn't find each other; some freaked out in the subway and just had to turn around and go home. CRAZY.

And yet the right wingers think we "should have voted", "don't know what we're marching for", "left behind tons of trash" (um, hello, like after every sporting event...?), are a bunch of snowflakes. Well, guess what, motherfuckers?

 

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

Ceci n'est pas un président

I leave for D.C. on Friday to protest the Mango Mussolini. Thankfully I got a free hotel room using points and also two free flights for me and my bandleader's wife (flights not using miles were all really inconvenient and terribly expensive). I haven't marched on Washington since 1990, my senior year of high school, when a busload of us went down from NY to support women's rights. Proud to be - sad to be? - doing this again almost 30 years later.

Abby asked how the move in with the BF went. It went fine - I think the reason I neglected to mention it was nothing really changed; he is rarely here (leaves before we get up, comes home late at night, works most weekends unless I ask him to take off for something specific). Some women would be resentful of a man being so absent, but not me. I actually kind of dread the day he changes his schedule - if this day ever comes - because I enjoy my evenings to myself (and often use those hours for work) and sometimes weekend days alone with the kids are easier on me (he always wants to do a lot of exhausting stuff like go to loud, crowded places and restaurants and keep the kids up way too late). Also, he's spent nearly every night at my house almost the entire time we were living apart anyway. So the only difference is now he gives me money. Yay. But yes, everything is going well. Thanks for asking!

Lots more drama in my dance world. More Facebook accusations of sexual assault by a dance teacher, and everyone is up in arms. I had to join in and ban a guy from my event who was supporting the assaulter - not because of that, but for that and the time he was made to leave the hotel where my event is held for being drunk and fighting, and various other Code of Conduct violations. We're all starting to get serious about banning these guys - always guys - who are just bad eggs. Honestly this should have happened years ago, but without social media we just didn't have the evidence/support/forum to do these things. My feminist group has been a huge part of this. The worm has indeed turned. All of us who are pissed off about Trump are channeling that into confronting problem men in our lives and businesses. 

I hope all of this leads to a better dance world because we're now woke AF and are calling out sexism, racism and homophobia whenever we see it. 

And I wouldn't be surprised if I end up in court again one of these days. Sigh.

Sometimes I feel like my life is just starting to get easier with the kids getting older, and then I think about how miserable life is going to be under Trump (goodbye, awesome healthcare) and I feel like the hard times are just beginning, and I didn't know how good I had it under Obama all this time.

Here is part of the sign I'll be carrying on Saturday (because I can't resist a little Magritte):

 

Sunday, January 8, 2017

Sisterhood

Shortly after the election I noticed an explosion of ill will on Facebook - mostly women I knew through dancing expressing their disgust and then being trolled/shut down by mansplaining opinion bullies. So I started a secret feminist dancer group with the intention of being able to discuss our rage, sadness, and fear without being told to stop whining. What's happened to this group in the ensuing two months has been nothing short of incredible.

It's become a place not just to share sadness and anger but also talk about sexism in our dance scene - the last thread I started about two guys I've been having a problem with now has thousands of comments, and I've really learned a lot about narcissists, control freaks and bullies and how easy it is to overlook and misdiagnose these behaviors, i.e., "oh, that's just so-and-so" or "they're just kidding around." It's been a fantastic place to share stories from the past that otherwise never would have come to light - the time that guy danced with a girl and told her she was doing everything wrong; the time that other guy kept "accidentally" brushing his hand across a woman's chest while dancing, etc etc. I never knew the power of these secret groups where you can say things you don't want your Aunt Tilda, your brother-in-law's Tea Partier cousin, or your boss to hear. 

Even though many of the people in the group haven't actively danced in years, so many of them are encouraged to go out again because they know their "sisters" will be there to welcome them; many people are thanking me for the group (one said "it's the only reason I get up in the morning"), many are saying they are excited to finally get to know other female dancers (normally you talk more to the guys you're dancing with). It's amazing when you can do a small thing that ends up having such a big impact.

I sang at a big event this weekend and was pretty nervous because I knew one of the guys I was at odds with was going to be there. I was feeling pretty unsafe, but I knew a big contingent of my secret group were going to be there and they promised to have my back. The whole night we ran around hugging each other and exchanging knowing looks. It was awesome. We snuck out to the lobby to recreate this photo:

 

 

I think we did pretty good. The person taking the picture asked what modern women would do in that kind of photo, and we all spontaneously did this:

 

I'm surrounded by some pretty strong, angry, terrific women. I'm really proud to be in their company and look forward to sharing the outrage of the next few years - and protesting the fuck out of it!!!