Calliope
05-05-2008, 08:40 PM
Many of the physical changes we experience at midlife, from hair loss to dry skin to alterations in weight, are caused by menopausal shifts in hormones ... Some women end up with a beefier testosterone presence in relation to their remaining estrogen, for example; while they’re likely to spout new facial hair, they’ll also be likely to retain good levels of libido and energy.
~ Red Hot Mamas, Colette Dowling, 1996.
Calliope is getting ready to turn 49 at Twin Oaks.
She’s also getting ready, after 6 months of provisional membership, to be a full member ~ a real Twin Oaker.
Twin Oaks keeps me busy! I haven’t learned so much new stuff since, when, 2nd grade or something. My first niche was cleaning ~ I clean the big dining hall once a week; I vacuum the hammock shop every Sunday. My next, and maybe best, niche was community laundry (tons!) and co-managing the area where all the tons go: “Commie Clothes.” I put out a special weekly display ~ an outrageous outfit, a fashion dare; I even received a {PSC} “commission” to help dress another gal, for a special event, Madge’s upcoming annual “High Tea.” I’ve also found a place in the Pillow Shop, traditionally a female work environment, cutting fabric and inspecting / boxing pillows for market. But the real glory task is my twice-a-week shifts making dinner for the 100+ communards here. A lightening-fast learning curve! And I survived it: there are even some dishes, especially “Calliope’s biscuits,” that achieved acclaim. Not since 2nd grade, when I was told to get in the “other line” and start doing “boy stuff,” has my mojo been so active.
At Twin Oaks, I get to do girl jobs. Nothing but girl jobs. Thanks so much! {Specific thanks to my kindest, wisest teachers Angie, Madge, Shakti & Valerie.} It’s taken almost half a century to get the natural life I’ve always intuited and craved.
And I’ve got a lot of stamina for these jobs. A lot of energy to give. Not a sick minute taken in the 6+ months Ive been here. I believe I do the fastest {hammock} set-ups on the farm. I’m in good shape ~ like my amazing mother, the oldest {read: coolest} woman to hike the AT. I dieted all winter, went from 121 to 112 and take a 5-mile walk every night right after dinner. It’s funny, I have bemoaned, even cursed, my hormone disorder for decades, hated the hair and the low voice and all that crap ~ but now I see the positive in it: the abnormal testosterone is very useful in a socialist labor culture. I am not a male with too little “push.” I am a girl with super powers! To lift the wry line about Hillary, here’s a bitch who gets things done.
I am exceedingly susceptible to foolish music. I have been hitting repeat on my Carpenters’ Greatest Hits playlist for weeks!*
* There is no understanding girlhood in the early 70’s without at least a cursory familiarity of (the) Carpenters. They ruled. For misunderstood me, that was queer. Socialized as a boy, Carpenters were off-limits; I was supposed to get down with Grand Funk Railroad, or something. My Carpenters’ greatest hits LP was yet one more secret. In a parallel universe, there was this “mystery group,” supposedly the secret synthesizer reunion of the Beatles. Really, just Klaatu, Canadian session cats, lightweight pot pop following the Dark Side of the Oz, or something. Boys did listen to that, including my stoner pals. Long version (LP) and short version (45). Now meanwhile back in femland, there was the Carpenters’ long and short version, too. These two conflicting demographics could not exist within the same timespace. Nope. The illogical association incinerated both careers in a flash. But, me, a secret girl performing, poorly, boyhood, I understood the unity of opposites contained within. “Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft,” the Carpenters version, remains one of the proto-postmodernist jukebox achievements of the era. Or something.
Summer is clamoring. The farm is green utopia ~ flowers burst colors, bunnies jump across the paths, lizards skitter under floorboards. Woody my next-door housemate (and “official” photographer, bless his soul) is raising peeping, fuzzy baby geese in a box right outside my bedroom. The asparagus is getting harvested and strawberries are on the way.
I spent the winter attired as I have for years. A “respectable presentation,” very middle-aged school teacher, with requisite cardigans and long skirts. But now comes the Virginia heat, and long sleeves and leggings are insane. I could stay with long skirts or revert back to tight jeans but I didn’t want to look like an old lady. With my dieting and exercise {better medicine than the Pink Patch, or even HRT or SRS}, I sure don’t feel like an old lady. {I mean, guys still notice me; I’ve even entertained some gentlemen callers ~ giggle.} I decided I trust my community enough, so now I just go as me. Yes, I’ve got veins all over my arms and psoriasis on my knees which I’ve covered for years but my body is strong and fun, so now I’m showing it off, unhidden. I was apprehensive that first day, wearing a {size 6} minidress, white no less, two inches above my knees with a low back but, it’s such an affirming world here, some gal told me I looked great. And, presto, I did. I’m in an even shorter skirt today {note photo}.
Once you cross a line, it’s gone.
So I am ready to be 49 at Twin Oaks. We’ve only just begun! I’m down with 49. Hell, I’ll always be younger than Madonna.
Photo at: http://calliopeharmony.blogspot.com
~ Red Hot Mamas, Colette Dowling, 1996.
Calliope is getting ready to turn 49 at Twin Oaks.
She’s also getting ready, after 6 months of provisional membership, to be a full member ~ a real Twin Oaker.
Twin Oaks keeps me busy! I haven’t learned so much new stuff since, when, 2nd grade or something. My first niche was cleaning ~ I clean the big dining hall once a week; I vacuum the hammock shop every Sunday. My next, and maybe best, niche was community laundry (tons!) and co-managing the area where all the tons go: “Commie Clothes.” I put out a special weekly display ~ an outrageous outfit, a fashion dare; I even received a {PSC} “commission” to help dress another gal, for a special event, Madge’s upcoming annual “High Tea.” I’ve also found a place in the Pillow Shop, traditionally a female work environment, cutting fabric and inspecting / boxing pillows for market. But the real glory task is my twice-a-week shifts making dinner for the 100+ communards here. A lightening-fast learning curve! And I survived it: there are even some dishes, especially “Calliope’s biscuits,” that achieved acclaim. Not since 2nd grade, when I was told to get in the “other line” and start doing “boy stuff,” has my mojo been so active.
At Twin Oaks, I get to do girl jobs. Nothing but girl jobs. Thanks so much! {Specific thanks to my kindest, wisest teachers Angie, Madge, Shakti & Valerie.} It’s taken almost half a century to get the natural life I’ve always intuited and craved.
And I’ve got a lot of stamina for these jobs. A lot of energy to give. Not a sick minute taken in the 6+ months Ive been here. I believe I do the fastest {hammock} set-ups on the farm. I’m in good shape ~ like my amazing mother, the oldest {read: coolest} woman to hike the AT. I dieted all winter, went from 121 to 112 and take a 5-mile walk every night right after dinner. It’s funny, I have bemoaned, even cursed, my hormone disorder for decades, hated the hair and the low voice and all that crap ~ but now I see the positive in it: the abnormal testosterone is very useful in a socialist labor culture. I am not a male with too little “push.” I am a girl with super powers! To lift the wry line about Hillary, here’s a bitch who gets things done.
I am exceedingly susceptible to foolish music. I have been hitting repeat on my Carpenters’ Greatest Hits playlist for weeks!*
* There is no understanding girlhood in the early 70’s without at least a cursory familiarity of (the) Carpenters. They ruled. For misunderstood me, that was queer. Socialized as a boy, Carpenters were off-limits; I was supposed to get down with Grand Funk Railroad, or something. My Carpenters’ greatest hits LP was yet one more secret. In a parallel universe, there was this “mystery group,” supposedly the secret synthesizer reunion of the Beatles. Really, just Klaatu, Canadian session cats, lightweight pot pop following the Dark Side of the Oz, or something. Boys did listen to that, including my stoner pals. Long version (LP) and short version (45). Now meanwhile back in femland, there was the Carpenters’ long and short version, too. These two conflicting demographics could not exist within the same timespace. Nope. The illogical association incinerated both careers in a flash. But, me, a secret girl performing, poorly, boyhood, I understood the unity of opposites contained within. “Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft,” the Carpenters version, remains one of the proto-postmodernist jukebox achievements of the era. Or something.
Summer is clamoring. The farm is green utopia ~ flowers burst colors, bunnies jump across the paths, lizards skitter under floorboards. Woody my next-door housemate (and “official” photographer, bless his soul) is raising peeping, fuzzy baby geese in a box right outside my bedroom. The asparagus is getting harvested and strawberries are on the way.
I spent the winter attired as I have for years. A “respectable presentation,” very middle-aged school teacher, with requisite cardigans and long skirts. But now comes the Virginia heat, and long sleeves and leggings are insane. I could stay with long skirts or revert back to tight jeans but I didn’t want to look like an old lady. With my dieting and exercise {better medicine than the Pink Patch, or even HRT or SRS}, I sure don’t feel like an old lady. {I mean, guys still notice me; I’ve even entertained some gentlemen callers ~ giggle.} I decided I trust my community enough, so now I just go as me. Yes, I’ve got veins all over my arms and psoriasis on my knees which I’ve covered for years but my body is strong and fun, so now I’m showing it off, unhidden. I was apprehensive that first day, wearing a {size 6} minidress, white no less, two inches above my knees with a low back but, it’s such an affirming world here, some gal told me I looked great. And, presto, I did. I’m in an even shorter skirt today {note photo}.
Once you cross a line, it’s gone.
So I am ready to be 49 at Twin Oaks. We’ve only just begun! I’m down with 49. Hell, I’ll always be younger than Madonna.
Photo at: http://calliopeharmony.blogspot.com