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Girlfriends

Being Viking

One of my beloved chick friends (coincidentally, also my Muse) told me one day, “Lady, you are a fucking Viking!”  Stunned by this comparison, given that the Vikes were notoriously fierce, ambitious, and mofo tough, I did a little research on these blond-haired beauties and found that I concur 100% with the Muse’s estimation.  So in the spirit of observation, education, and affirmation, here are a few relatively similar facts between myself and my beloved Vikings!  (Cohen 1)

 

First of all, Viking women accrued property and had the balls to get a divorce and reclaim their stuff if the blondie in question was not true to his horn.   Check!

 

Second, the men got the groceries.  Now, this is what I’m talking about!  Anyone who knows me will tell you how much I hate the dreaded grocery store.  Check!

 

I do not wear a helmet (sorry to burst anyone’s fantasies!) and apparently, neither did those vicious Vikes cover their beautiful tresses with such a ghastly style faux pas.  Check!

 

I am resourceful to the bone; perhaps this talent was acquired by the combining of creativity and uncertain finances but I can make a gourmet meal and a stylish outfit from nothing more than what is in the fridge and a couple of yards of cloth.  I guess the Norse Lords were a bit more pragmatic because they used their urine to cure stuff to make it flammable.  (Damn!)  Check!

 

I know that Bettie Page is my Gravatar but that is because she is absolutely fabulous and sexy and everything that I want to be when I grow-up. However truthfully, I have always been a blonde.  I have the natural shade and coloring of the true blondie with the exception of my hazel-green eyes.  Check!

 

Of course the Norse 🙂 were known for their courageous and seafaring spirit and could kick any tribes’ ass when it came to adventuring. They slept out of doors wherever they chose to lay their blond locks and I love the outdoors too!  I love to camp and hike and run and cook outside (we all know how much better the food tastes when cooked on a campfire).  Check!

 

Those blond-haired beauties were also known for their independent and nonconformist lifestyles.  Entrepreneurs to the bone, they marched to the beat of their own drums, never mind what those other tribes were up to, the Vikings lived the Frank Sinatra life and did it their way.  As an INFP, bam sucka—Check!

 

Everyone hates smelly, sweaty, unbathed humans and the Nords were no exception.  Maintaining an unusual degree of personal hygiene, the Vikings were known for their daily bathing and grooming rituals.  I am known for my love of bathing.  In fact, I do not take showers unless I am out of town.  Nothing compares to a long, hot soak in a garden style tub with candles burning and the scent of bubbles—sublime.  Check!

 

I know that my Muse was being facetious when she compared me to a Viking but after hearing my life story at a speaker event, she must have been overcome and appreciative of her own upbringing and experiences.  I have to admit that I rather enjoy thinking of myself as one of those savage Nordic types and I know that I am exploring strange and unknown territory in regard to my family of origin.  I have lived through the sixties with teenage parents, a kidnapping and molestation at knife-point, a rape, and twenty-plus years with a compulsive gambler; I have had my own struggles with booze and sex and come out on the other side; I have raised three beautiful and intelligent daughters, all three college educated and I just completed my degree last year.  Through it all, I have explored, obtained wisdom, learned empathy and compassion, and now I sit here doing what I love: writing.  Yes, I have to admit that I am a fucking Viking!

 

Cohen, J. (20130. http://www.history.com/news/history-lists/10-things-you-may-not-know-about-the-vikings

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chick Friends

Never underestimate the importance of your chick friends.  These are the women who hold you when your heart is broken, when your kids have you stretched to the point of snapping, and when that special man (or woman) in your life has you fantasizing about punching them in throat if they say one more word.  These supportive sisters are what keep domestic violence rates in check, don’t break the bank with therapy bills, and keep otherwise sane women from committing hare kare when feeling like you cannot take one more step.  In other words, they are the lifeline that tethers to solid ground and helps to restore our equilibrium without creating damage to ourselves or others.

I have been fortunate to have several women in my life who have been a stabilizing factor when the Shit Fairy comes to call.  At those times, my chick friends have been a shoulder to lean on, a voice of sanity, and everything else of which I am incapable during times of extreme stress.  One such woman uses these opportunities to remind me of facts about myself that seem to be common sense but elude me when the weight of life is feeling heavy (for instance: You are a fucking Viking!).  She asks me rudimentary questions such as: What are five qualities of your sober woman?  Your feelings, are they fact or fancy?  If it’s true, where is the evidence to support it?  Are you posing a request or a demand?  There are many such questions posited to me during these times and although I know the answers, I am unable to recall them on my own.  I used to think that I was a pretty self-contained unit, however, I have discovered that without these women, I cannot see the forest because of the trees—I lose all sense of perspective and I need my peeps to help me remember who I am and what I need to do to take care of myself physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I could not successfully navigate this Life Journey without the aid of these women who have chosen to link arms with me and together we form a chain of resilience and substance.

To sum things up, all of the struggle is real but the illusions and delusions very seldom represent anything close to reality and this where my “true blue’s” are most vital.  These are the women who have taught me about friendship through their actions and I have been fortunate enough to be able to reciprocate the same support and encouragement to these chicks, when needed.  In fact, the paradox in all of this “we” stuff is that I often receive so much more than I give when I am called upon to help a fellow sister sift their way through the shit.  We become like the navigation system on an airplane: never on a perfect path but always in a constant state of correction.  The same is true of growing and evolving humans and the only difference between arriving at our desired destination or being stuck, is the inclusion of others in our lives to help us correct our path; in turn, we may be equipped to help others when the occasion arises.

More important, this is where the rubber meets the road in my chick friendships and gone are the days when my life was filled with energy-drainers and tour guides to Crazy Town.  I celebrate my chick friends as often as possible because I wouldn’t be who I am, or where I am, without them.  These are the women who I have chosen as my family and they rank of high importance in my life; after all, the dudes will come and go but my chicks will be there until the day I die!

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