Five O'Clock Somewhere

Welcome to Five O'Clock Somewhere, where it doesn't matter what time zone you're in; it's five o'clock somewhere. We'll look at rural life, especially as it happens in Rio Arriba County, New Mexico, cats, sailing (particularly Etchells racing yachts), and bits of grammar and Victorian poetry.

Monday, January 09, 2006

A “Seasoned” Woman

Life is more satisfying now.

This week’s Parade magazine had a feature article about the “seasoned” woman – one who isn’t old, except by the standards of yesteryear in which the number of years lived is all that matters, who has seen enough of life and learned enough from experience to be self-assured, or at least more self-assured than she was when she was younger. I may be at the tail-end of the baby boom, but I’m approaching that sort of feeling now.

The key thing about the seasoned woman is that she feels empowered. She’s no longer so uncertain about whether she’s doing things right, or what the rest of the world may think of her. Sexually, she’s more able to be passionate and expressive, since, as time goes by, she no longer has to worry about pregnancy, so she can concentrate on the enjoyment of both her partner and herself. She also feels more free to pursue dreams that, before, seemed silly, hobbies or goals that she was afraid to even think of.

I’m not all the way to that point, but I’m getting there. Up until recently, I thought the idea of writing novels was unrealistic – I mean, who would ever want to read anything I wrote? Now I have three in progress, and at least one of them actually looks marketable. Up until recently, I would never have imagined that I might be able to take the helm of a racing sailboat – how could I possibly do anything right? Now, I’m training to be on an Adams Cup racing team. I’m not so optimistic as to think that I might end up in the finals, but before, I wouldn’t have even dreamed of trying.

There are some external signs of being seasoned. For example, last time I went in to have my hair colored at the local barber college, the stylist-in-training commented, “You have such wonderful pale streaks in your underlying color; we don’t need to add highlights.” What an optimistic way to look at going gray! OK, maybe I’m supposed to accept those gray hairs, but, hey, I’m a redhead by choice, and that’s just the way I want to be. So there.

There’s a rock song from the ’70s; I don’t remember who sang it or exactly what the lyrics are, but I remember the general spirit: “Learning to Fly.” That’s what it feels like I’m doing now.


Anonymous Jerry said...

I expect you're thinking of Tom Petty's song, not the Pink floyd one. I'm sketchy on the lyrics now, myself, and my copy of the tune is a long, long way away.

Tue Jan 10, 11:14:00 AM MST  
Blogger Carol Anne said...

I'm pretty sure it is Tom Petty. I remember that vocal quality of his.

Tue Jan 10, 11:00:00 PM MST  

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