Spirited Woman Blogger Team

Guest Blogger - Amy Ferris - A Valentine for Ken

Popular Spirited Woman guest blogger Amy Ferris is back. This post is the third in her new 4-part series on the "musings of life."

 There are days & nights - honest to Goddess - that I think, "Hmmm. Wouldn't it be swell if life were just filled with joy & happiness & laughter & problem free. How delightful? How delightful & fabulous. Gee, that sounds so... utterly glorious!"

I'm guessing I'm not alone.

By joy & happiness & laughter & problem free I mean ... no electrical storms to knock out power for days, money coming in as in a steady stream - not just going out like a hemorrhaging blood bath, being able to wear the same size jeans I wore, um, let's just say about SIX MONTHS AGO ago without having to hold in both my stomach and my breath simultaneously for, oh I don't know, three... four hours at a pop, for both my cats TO NOT, I repeat TO NOT, throw up hair-balls at the same time, for the ceiling to NOT cave in because too much ice is on the roof, for Ken to not back into another car in a parking lot because he was pre-occupied with the NY Giants game on the radio thank you very much, and ... no health issues.

The list is long.

It is.
Long.

Then something happened. Sort of like an epiphany, but not, not really an epiphany, more of an Aha moment but bigger. Bigger than Aha, smaller than an epiphany. I don't know what that's called, maybe an epiph-AH moment. Ken and I were in the car, driving back from New York City. He was driving, I was... well... you know, telling him how to drive: slow down,  stay in one lane, stop with the merging... go SLOWER. MUCH MUCH SLOWER NOW. THIS MINUTE. NOW. This is something we do, like most couples I know, on a daily basis. The minute we pull out of the garage, I turn into the devil doll. I do.

Guest Blogger - Amy Ferris - Blogger's Block

Popular Spirited Woman guest blogger Amy Ferris is back. This post is the second in her new 4-part series on the "musings of life."

This is a blog about a blog. Full disclosure: I adore - adore with a capitol A - Nancy Mills. She is the cats meow. Nancy asked if I would consider being a guest blogger again and I agreed. Without a moments hesitation, I said, "Yes, yes... oh my God, yes! Absolutely. I responded as a Spirited Woman - Yes!

And then I wrote my first blog about Ken, my husband. And then Nancy thanked me, and reminded me that she needed another blog ASAP. As soon as possible. And I responded, "Yes... yes yes yes yes!" No problem.

And then it started snowing. And it just kept on snowing. And because Ken loves the Weather Channel, I actually knew when the snow would be falling, I knew how many inches, and even learned the SNOW/SLEET/ICE/WINTRY MIX color codes: pink, grey and white. And for as long and wide as the eye could see (or is it can, can see? That always confuses me.): WHITE. Pure effing white.

And then I watched as Ken turned from being a sexy, vibrant man, into the Pillsbury Dough Boy. I watched him snow-blowing, and shoveling and I waved, and he smiled, and he gave me the finger, and I nodded, and I watched as more snow fell, and the house started feeling smaller, and the snow was getting deeper, and I didn't feel like blogging, or writing, or speaking to anyone. Not a soul. Although truth be told I did want to beat the crap out of Charlie Sheen, but that's not where I'm going with this. And it snowed a little more, and then, then ... it stopped snowing. And then Nancy sent me another e-mail, wondering where the blog was, and so I wrote a blog about Ambien and side effects and... sent it off. And then she sent me an e-mail and wrote, "Spirited Woman is all about the positive side of life for women."

Uh Oh.
Oh my God, I was not - NOT - a spirited woman.
OMG.
Seriously.

Guest Blogger - Amy Ferris - Is My Husband Retired or Rewired? Lots of Luck.

Popular Spirited Woman guest blogger Amy Ferris is back. This post is the first in her new 4-part series on the "musings of life."

If you've read my book, Marrying George Clooney: Confessions From A Midlife Crisis, you can skip to paragraph two, otherwise, please indulge me... my husband, my good, kind talented, funny, charming husband is now retired. Or as someone so brilliantly said to me, rewired.

I prefer that. It feels a bit, although not a lot, sexier. Rewired. Actually come to think of it, now that I've written it down, it sounds very robotic. I'm gonna stick with retired, I can work with that.

Okay, so Ken loves the Weather Channel and the New York Giants and gardening, and pesto and driving his little sports car very very very fast, and ... there's so much I can list... but a new habit, a new little love bubble, since he's retired/rewired, he likes to talk a lot about joint pain.

Not joint as in "sharing," or in "co," but as in oh-my-god my knee, oh-my-god my thumb, oh my f.... god everything aches. And I can handle that, I can. I tune him out, and I start thinking about vacations and floral arrangements and massages, and mani/pedi's, and my favorite: what to wear to the Tony Awards (a big fantasy), and how can I be a bit taller than Krista & Brooke, and my mind wanders and by the time he's done with all his aches and pains, I can have sympathy.

It's when he complains about the knees and the shoulders and the back and the arthritis and the carpal tunnel and then says in a West Side Story kinda way: "Hey, Maria, wanna rumble?"

That's when all the sympathy I have goes straight out the window and I say in my Amy tone, have you no compassion or sympathy for my vaginal dryness, my arthritic neck, my irritable bowel syndrome, or colitis depending on the WebMD information I get in the middle of the night?

And I say in my new midlife abbreviated lingo:
LOL
and he says with great confidence:
laugh out loud?
and I say:
no.
LOTS OF LUCK.

- Amy Ferris  www.marryinggeorgeclooney.com/blog
Click here for more of Amy's posts.

Amy Ferris is an author, screenwriter, editor, and playwright. Her memoir, MARRYING GEORGE CLOONEY: CONFESSIONS FROM A MIDLIFE CRISIS (Seal Press) was published this year, and is now being developed and produced as an Off-Broadway Play in collaboration with CAP 21 Theater Company for Spring 2011. Amy lives in Northeast Pennsylvania with her delightful and patient husband,Ken, and their two cats, Bella & Lotus. Her blog was named one of the top 10 blogs for women in midlife by More.com (More Magazine)

Bitter With a Side of Coleslaw

I'm almost embarrassed to say this. But I'll say it anyway. I found myself being wholly jealous of a friend.

Wholly.
Jealous.
Jealousy. Envy.
Oh. My. God.

I always think of myself as such a kind, generous, good woman. Wishing everyone well. And on occasion - on that rare occasion - I can find myself wallowing in self pity and that unattractive (on me) color 'green' with the much more unattractive add-on 'with envy.' That not feeling good enough state. That wishing people well, but, you know, not... too well.

She called and said, "Oh my God, I have such great news, I just sold a script." And I found myself saying, "Oh my god, that is so great, So. Very. Great. And incredible and wow, oh wow..." and then she said, "I know. I didn't even think it would it sell. Isn't it unbelievable.?" And I was thinking.... "Holy shit, yes, it is unbelievable. You sold a script, you? You don't even know how to write a script. I should be selling a script, me, the talented one. Me. Not you. I should be making money. Me. Me. Me. I should be ... me... me. Me."

I could taste the bitterness in my mouth. Vile.

And I hung up and yes, I felt sick to my stomach. Truly, deeply sick - the acid churning. I needed a tums. Not because she had such good fortune, but because I didn't wish her well. I did not wish her well. Not in my heart. And she probably could hear that in my voice. You know how when your voice tilts and that lump gets caught and the words get stuck and you're so frickin' inauthentic you can hear it and see it clearly.

And then I thought about another friend of mine who was so resentful when I sold my book. She was bitter and angry and mean. And I called her up one day and I asked her why she wasn't happy for me and she said: "I never feel like there's enough to go around, and you have such a great life."

And I said, "There is. There is enough to go around."

And here I was, feeling the very same thing.

Guest Blogger - Amy Ferris - Love in the Time of Cholesterol

Full disclosure: my friend Julie came up with the title. I'm borrowing it with the full intention of giving it back, or replacing it with a better title.

I never for the life of me thought I'd become a woman who talks about her life in terms of dosage. As in, "Oh, no, no, I'm not that depressed, I'm on the pediatric dose," or "Well, I start with 5mg and then work myself up to oh, you know... maybe 7.5mg, but that's only when I'm terribly overwhelmed," or "Hmmm, really? You're on 20 mg of Lipitor, I'm only on 10. I wonder if that's why I still feel, you know, clogged?"

My husband made a comment the other day which drove me completely nuts, drove me to 0.25 mg of Xanax. He said, and I quote, "Hey babe, your night table reminds me of my mother's night table, with all those pill bottles."

Oh my god. Holy shit. My night table - MINE - reminds him - HIM - of his mother's - HIS MOTHER'S - night table.

That was it. That was all I needed to hear.

"First of all," I said in a very calm yet irritated voice, "Mr. Hey Babe, first of all... first of all... those pill bottles that remind you of your mother, one is filled with Black Cohosh, and Kava Kava for my never ending hot flashes. And this one, this one... is filled with Vitamin C, and D, and E, and ALL the other letters of the alphabet because of that horrible vile cold and sore throat that you gave to me thank you very much. And this one, this one, right here, this one, this pill bottle is so old, it could be your mother's. It has a refill date going back to ... what does that say? Oh yeah, yeah 2002. And this pill bottle is filled with kosher salt for that neti-pot that I use when I have a sinus headache in the middle of the night. And this pill bottle - THIS PILL BOTTLE, Mr. Know-it-all, is filled with medicinal marijuana that I will try ONLY when they pass the marijuana law."

"Medicinal marijuana?"

Guest Blogger - Amy Ferris - Ken 1, Amy 0

(Warning: this blog has very little sexual content.)

It was one of those 'thank you, Buddha,' moments.

I for one believe that Ken and I have an active sex life. Active, passionate, and full of life. And of course, Ken believes he's deprived. That he has to beg, plead, promise jewelry and gifts in exchange for sexual favors. You would think we were talking about two entirely different relationships the way we talk about our sex life.

Two weeks ago we both had a doctor appointment (we share the same doctor). Ken was going in for some blood tests and some follow-up, and I was going in for my semi-annual check-up. It literally takes up an entire day, ten to twelve hours. Between travel time, looking for a parking space in New York City, the waiting room, and all sorts of unexpected stuff - it truly takes an entire day. And on top of that, on top of that, it's an entire day with no food because God forbid you should eat anything - the blood test may come out tainted. Okay, so, this is something I don't quite get - I can't imagine for the life of me my grandmother NOT having hardening of the arteries, or high cholesterol. I mean this is a woman who used a pound of chicken fat in her cooking on a daily basis. She lived a long life and I'm pretty sure her sex life was on par with mine.

As usual I digress.

To accommodate both Ken and I - along with my overwhelming cranky need to eat - the doctor put us in an exam room together. At one point, he - the doctor - asked me if I was experiencing vaginal dryness (because, well, being a menopausal woman vaginal dryness is one of the lovely add-ons) I answered: You know, our sex life is great. Ken was startled, What do you mean, great? I responded, well, Ken we have sex, what, sometimes twice a week now. He said, that's not great. I said, Are you fucking kidding me? He said, Three times would make me happy. I said, This isn't about your happiness, this is about my happiness.

The Doctor asked me.

With that, Ken and I both turned to the doctor, who sat there with a wonderful, delightful joyous smile, and said:

"Listen guys, I have patients who have sex every six weeks."

"Every six weeks," I said, my head tilting ever so slightly toward Ken. "I could do that."

Ken grabbed my hand, and without looking at me, "No, really, that's okay. I'm very, very, very happy."

Ken 1...

Stay tuned for next week's post, "Love in the Time of Cholesterol."

- Amy Ferris  www.marryinggeorgeclooney.com/blog
Click here for more of Amy's posts.

Amy Ferris is an author, screenwriter, editor, and playwright. Her memoir, MARRYING GEORGE CLOONEY: CONFESSIONS FROM A MIDLIFE CRISIS (Seal Press) was published this year, and is now being developed and produced as an Off-Broadway Play in collaboration with CAP 21 Theater Company for Spring 2011. Amy lives in Northeast Pennsylvania with her delightful and patient husband,Ken, and their two cats, Bella & Lotus. Her blog was named one of the top 10 blogs for women in midlife by More.com (More Magazine)

Guest Blogger - Amy Ferris - Surrender, Amy

I think of myself as a Spirited Woman. I do. I think of myself as a woman in charge, who is powerful and straight forward, a woman who is funny and raw to the bone, generous and thoughtful, thought provoking, impatient, and, and... i think of myself... oh wait...

Last week everything, and I mean everything, sort of blew. Blew in terms of head gasket (in our car), electrical storms, power outage, lines down, cables, phones, television ... you know, blown, blew. Blew, blown as in fried, gone. And for the past five, six days I have thought about everything from Acts of God (I am a Buddhist), to loving my husband more and better, to friends who didn't call who yes knew we were fried both literally and figuratively (hmmm, toxic relationships anyone?), to all my doubts and worries, and good God there are plenty of those (who knew you could be afraid of heights in a two level ranch?) and on and on. And on. But mostly, truthfully, fear - complete utter fear - gripped me. I could feel it in my body. In my muscles and bones and neck and shoulders and back, that tension that made me want to stay scared and small. I knew that feeling. It had a familiar ring to it.

When I started writing my book, Marrying George Clooney: Confessions From A Midlife Crisis, a few years back I was in the throws of menopause. Between the hormonal and emotional upheaval along with the physical changes, my mother being diagnosed with dementia, my brother and I severing all ties, I thought I had crossed over about a year ago. "Yes, yes..." I said out-loud to no one in particular, "I am a Spirited Woman, I am a Goddess, I am powerful and forgiving (and forgetful) and I am loving and kind and yeah, a bit nuts and sometimes I lean toward exaggeration and some days I just want to get in a car and drive until I run out of gas."

I'm all those things.

But today I realized something all powerful. I realized that sitting in fear, being stoic, is not noble. There is nothing noble or spirited about it. This is the page I opened to just a few minutes ago, as I was sitting, watching the Weather Channel, as another storm is about to blow through our county, and I'm thinking, oh no, oh no...holy shit, holy shit... this is what I read:

"For example, trying to smooth everything out to avoid confrontation, to not rock the boat, is not meant what's meant by compassion or patience. That's what is meant by control." Pema Chodron

And to think all this time I've been confusing taking charge with the need to be in control. I can't control the weather. I can only control my husband.

Stay tuned for next week's post, "Ken 1, Amy 0."

- Amy Ferris  www.marryinggeorgeclooney.com/blog

Amy Ferris is an author, screenwriter, editor, and playwright. Her memoir, MARRYING GEORGE CLOONEY, CONFESSIONS FROM A MIDLIFE CRISIS (Seal Press) was published this year, and is now being developed and produced as an Off-Broadway Play in collaboration with CAP 21 Theater Company for Spring 2011. Amy lives in Northeast Pennsylvania with her delightful and patient husband,Ken, and their two cats, Bella & Lotus. Her blog was named one of the top 10 blogs for women in midlife by More.com (More Magazine)