Author: Margit Detweiler

Birthday Issue: Not Dead Yet

I write this to you with no pants on.  Sorry for the image, but I’m on deadline to publish this piece, I haven’t figured out what I’m wearing to our big birthday bash celebrating five years of TueNight, and, well, I’m between outfits. It’s not that I don’t take writing this Editor’s Note seriously, but honestly, this is life. Do I care that I don’t have pants on? Hell to the no. This is the kind of thing that has changed, now that I am 51. Now that we are five years in on TueNight. You do what you gotta do, pants be damned. Wait, we’re 5 years old, already? It still feels like we’re just getting started. Which is kind of the essence of TueNight.  We have, in fact, covered a lot of ground. To review: 1287 stories292 contributors275 weekly newsletters15 TueNight Live eventsScores of TueNighter Facebook threads where we’ve uncovered and discussed all manner of things — from how often we wash our towels to what qualifies us as “peak old lady” (e.g. Karen …

October Issue: FLASH

Welcome to our October issue! For this edition we’re putting on our flashiest sequins to discuss everything FLASH. Not the lightening-bolted superhero. (Well, actually, him too). But every other kind of Flash.  From flashes of anger to flashes of brilliance to the sweatier sort. It’s appropriate that I just got a “Flash Flood” emergency alert today, is all I’m saying. Let’s review the flashcards A flashback and flash forward from Sue KramerWhen you show up to a party drenched. Ugh. Tracey Lynn Lloyd reflects on the 5 Stages of a Hot Flash.A flash of inspiration — and Ukulele lessons — courtesy of Jen DarrThe hot flash is a superpower, says Audrey HerbstWe get a post-menopause tutorial from sexpert Domina FrancoThe flash of fiery sex at Burning Man from Nina Lorez CollinsHaving a hot flash in Finland is maybe perfect, says Susan McPherson This one is brief, hot and bright— a flare to remember. What a feeling. keep believing, Margit

Summer Issue: 90s Bitch

Hanging in my office at the Philadelphia City Paper in the 90s, was a wildly vivid, fluorescent-colored poster that read “Las Lunachicks” and it featured an illustration of a woman with jet-black hair, mouth open in anger, brandishing a gun aimed to rain hell on anyone who got in her way. Designed by artist Frank Kozik for Riot Grrrl band The Lunachicks, the poster epitomized the moment in time, maybe my own internal monologue. A woman at the beginning of her career, screaming against the patriarchy, vying to be heard by any means necessary. Back then you might have called her a bitch, but she was cool as hell to me. The Lunachicks were loud, garish, three-chord punk rock with albums like Babysitters on Acid, Binge & Purge, Pretty Ugly. I liked them just fine; I liked so many artists at the time — as a music editor it was my job. But that poster was everything. I got it in 1993 and it stayed on my office wall for the rest of the decade. …

May Issue: First Jobs

What were some of your very first jobs? Mine: babysitter; Asher’s candy store salesperson; ice cream scooper, book shop salesperson, John Wannamaker’s retail associate, 18th-century-preserved science museum helper. Our first jobs aren’t necessarily the ones we want for the long haul, they may not be our dream career, but they leave us with important lessons that stick with us forever. For example: When a child runs after you with a butter knife, hide in the closet and call their parents. The freshest food items are in the very back row. People always smile when presented with ice cream. Tear up anything you wouldn’t want someone to read in 150 years. In our new issue, we’re looking back at our earliest gigs with 20/20 hindsight — from the silliest to the scariest to the ones that illuminated a new path. Stacy London almost loses her cookies Robin Gelfenbien drives a giant weiner Dee Poku battles fashionable bullies Mallory Kasdan follows Ru-Paul around the country And Lauren Young tracks the first jobs of famous folk Our authors …

March Issue: Rise and Shine

At the Oscars Sunday Night, Frances “the fiercest” McDormand asked all the nominated women to rise from their seats. “Look around, ladies and gentlemen, because we all have stories to tell and projects we need financed.” It was an incredibly powerful sight to see multiple women poke up across the vast theater (also disheartening that in that huge crowd, there weren’t more.) We sure do have tales to tell.  This is our moment. Women are rising up and speaking their truths — whether adding to the empowering, system-changing #metoo chorus or depicting women not just in their glory, but in their struggles as McDormand did in Three Billboards. These are not the stories we always want to tell — these are the stories we have to tell, the ones that make us whole. In our issue this month, we explore all the different kinds of power women find when they rise up, from finding a strength after the destruction of a marriage; letting childhood hopes and dreams wash away in rising tides; or even simply embracing …

Winter Issue: Trust

When we started planning this latest issue TRUST months ago, we couldn’t have predicted how relevant that term would be this week. Over the last few days, the #MeToo phenomenon  — women bravely sharing stories of sexual harassment and assault in social media — has been both heartening and deeply disturbing.  Our feeds have been filled with friends recounting — many for the very first time — incidents from childhood, from college, from adulthood.  From belittling innuendo, to a confusing, inappropriate touch (did that really just happen?), to domestic abuse, and rape, one after another, the stories are pouring out of us. My heart breaks a little with each post. Yet, there is strength in numbers and strength in the truth. We are compelled to share and, as women with experience, we trust each other to listen and hold those words sacred. The warm community of TueNighters, whether online or at our live events, continues to be a saving grace for many of us, a place to trust, commiserate, clutch our bellies in laughter and offer a thumbs up when we need …

My TueNight 10: Elan Morgan

Elan Morgan is a web designer, writer, and feminist activist. They’ve spoken across North America at various conferences, on tv and radio, and at TEDx, and they’ve been seen in the Globe & Mail, Best Health, Woman’s Day, and Flow magazines. A personal blogger since 2003 with an interest in online privacy and culture, Elan’s stepped back from speaking over the last couple of years to concentrate on writing poetry and contemplating connection and love in online spaces that are specifically built to foster and sensationalize division. Everything feels very serious, so re-learning play seems like a fabulous idea. Elan is taking suggestions. Be sure to check out Elan’s Five Star Blog Round-Up and the Grace in Small Things social network they started on Facebook. Here is Elan’s TueNight 10: 1. On the nightstand: Yrsa Daley-Ward’s Bone, Mary Beard’s Women and Power, and Kurt Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle. 2. Can’t stop/won’t stop: Listening to podcasts. I’m obsessive, listening to 47 and counting at 1.5-speed. 3. Jam of the minute: ShitKid’s album “Fish” turned up loud and Mount Eerie’s album “A …

June Issue: You Glow, Girl

Hey you! We’re back with a new issue and it’s a hot and spicy scorcher. Our theme this week is Glow — as in “Glow little glow worm glimmer, glimmer.” As in fiery pink and orange lights blazing across a June night. Embers in a summertime campfire. The afterglow from some afternoon delight. Al fresco dinner by candlelight, feeling flushed with some red, red wine. Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling (G.L.O.W.) power slams, then and now. The dazzling rainbow of Pride. Fireflies. The light in a child’s beaming face. Our own ambition, our own happiness, our own dynamic glow. When we hit that midlife mark we think we lose a certain glow — a rosy, just-pinched freshness. We sallow. We fade. That’s oh so much bullshit. I turned 50 last week, and have never felt a more intense inner and outer glow. Maybe it was resurfacing a year after a scary health crisis, maybe it was singing karaoke and then getting an unwanted lap dance (don’t ask), or maybe it was that final shot of Fish …

Hold Up, Wait a Minute

Hi folks, Just a note to say that we’ll be taking a website hiatus for the next few months to work on a revamp of the site, but don’t worry, we’re not going anywhere. We’ll still be sending out our weekly TueDo List newsletter, now on Tuesdays. Our next event and issue will be a HOT one. TueNight Live will be outside on a fabulous roof deck, June 27, and the theme is GLOW – get tickets now. And check out photos from our last event. We also have our fast-growing TueNighter Facebook community! Join in the conversation (this week we’ve been gabbing about The Handmaid’s Tale) Stay in touch while we cook up some special goodies. And we have so many past issues you can peruse: Swap, Adventure, Comfort, Wild Card, Fail, Money, Immigrant, Sleep, Sisters and more! We will likely poke our heads back in here from time to time, but stay tuned for a more badass update of TueNight.com. Taking a pause that refreshes, Margit  

April Issue: Ready, Set, SWAP!

Oh MY we have a jam-packed issue this week, friends. Because this week, we’re all about swaps — trades, pivots, shifts and changes big and small. And by the time you get to be a woman of certain age, well, you’ve probably swapped a bunch, by choice or otherwise. This week, we’re swapping careers, our age, our clothes, our shrink, our kids’ names and we have a beautiful piece about more of a transition: a mother shares the story of her child’s new name — and gender — on a brand new birth certificate. We’re sending out our issue early today so you can snag yourself a ticket and see most of these stories LIVE at TueNight Live. We’re also planning to have a real, live swap meet. I’m bringing three of my own items to trade — think Kajagoogoo, Shephard Fairey and colorforms. Curious? Come with your own swaps and find out. If you’re not in NYC and can’t make it, we’ll be Facebook Live-ing right here. And in other Facebook news, we’ve started …

Margit’s Note: Choose Your Own Adventure

I turn 50 in June. I’m supposed to be lying to you about that, but nah. How old am I? I’m this many. Five Zero. I’ve earned my stripes. How does one celebrate half a century? I’ve been to a few fabulous 50 birthdays recently (remember, when you turn 50, many of your friends do too) — karaoke in a dive bar; 100 people sweating it out in a studio apartment, witnessing a friend (via Facebook) leap into the sky. My husband reminds me that I partied a little too hard and puked at my 40th. I’d rather not do that this year. For this milestone, I think I’d prefer a few mini trips with close friends. I’m not the sort to heave myself out of an airplane or do a soul-seeking trek to Tibet — I’m a little major-adventure averse. I’m not even keen about driving a car, thanks to a decade-plus of living car-less-ly in NYC. But taking a long weekend to a new spot with one or two really close pals? That seems like a …

18 Seriously Comfortable Shoes for Spring and Summer

My shoe predicament has become even worse. About two springs ago, when I was on the hunt for the bestest, comfiest, maybe even cute-in-a-certain-light pair of shoes, I wrote this piece and was pretty proud of myself for rounding up such stellar soles. Over this past winter, however, I’ve realized that I’ve become so picky and obsessed with cushion and easy-to-wears that I’m down to TWO — count ‘em, just TWO — pairs of shoes: These perfect comfort-and-support sneakers from Asics (The GT-2000 4) and these vaguely chic, utilitarian suede boots from La Canadienne (The Felicia). I toggle back and forth between the pair. I blame some of my choosiness on going through some big physical ordeals this past year or so that made me ONLY do what feels good and right. Anything that rubbed, pinched, pressed or made me hobble around was so far from ok that I would ONLY wear shoes that felt like heaven. Now that it’s springtime and the sun wants to shine on my toes, I need to expand my …

Margit’s Note: Cozy Up

Slide into the soft pants, wrap up in a blanket, put the kettle on, turn on some grooves and let’s find some comfort. The Danes have it right in their Hygge practice — which is now, for obvious reasons, all the rage. In these times when we feel uneasy about our world, we look for ways to soothe our bodies, soul and surroundings. Yet comfort isn’t just about the tactile — the hot bath or the warm hug — but your environs, your state of mind, your security, your sense of peace with yourself. “The most common form of despair is not being who you are,” said Kierkegaard. To find comfort is also to relax into our truest state — to find home. Music is my ultimate comfort drug. It envelopes me, moves me off my seat, soothes and is an instant mood changer. Scratch that; it’s better than any drug. While writing this, I’m listening to one of my most easy-breezy Spotify playlists. It has a West Coast soul vibe: “Strawberry Letter 23” by …

Margit’s Note: One From the Deck

This week, we’re throwing our cards in the air and running a theme that has no theme: WILDCARD. A wild card is, of course, a card that that can be used in any situation. So, whether you’re looking for a tale about love, loss, fights, kids, pets, parents or turning 50, we’ve got you covered in this edition.  It’s a grab-bag of awesome. A virtual variety pack of yarns. Ok, ok… We’ve even made a zany little Spotify Wild Card soundtrack to go along with your stories! Listen in here or here: This Week: Susan McPherson dates online after 50. (Did he really just text that?!) Ericka Kreutz’s kid punched another kid, and it might be her fault Amy Barr doesn’t want another dog…most of the time Deb Copaken shares the loss of her father with her sisters Nancy Davis Kho has a midlife (whatever) crisis And Dave Statman competes on Joker’s Wild — and wins a career. We’re wilding out, Margit

Margit’s Note: The Girl in the Plastic Bubble

We Gen-Xers have lived a life full of plastic: Our shag rugs strewn with high-arch-footed dolls, Legos, bubble wrap, Tupperware containers, six-pack rings, vinyl records, cassette tapes…you name it. “There’s a great future in plastics. Think about it. Will you think about it?” says Mr. McGuire to Benjamin in The Graduate, a movie that debuted the year many of us were just babes, 1967. And then a few years later in 1970, after the first Earth Day and the backlash due to rising energy costs, we met the movement to make things green again. Consumer recycling took hold in our lifetimes — which is kind of weird to think about. (Although, who knew, Plato first discussed the idea in 400 B.C. “Socrates, dude, these bronze spikes would be super cute as a necklace.”) For as long as we can remember, we’ve been battling a tug of war between man-made and earth friendly options.  Paper or plastic?  This nose or that one? Fake or authentic? Here’s a little irony for you: “Plastic” means “capable of being …

tuenight judgy margit ovarian rhapsody

Silly Things People Say to Me When I Tell Them I’ve Finished Chemo

Yes, I’m done. Finito. I finished chemotherapy almost three months ago and have moved on to what my doctor dubs “Survivorship.” Great. I mean, no, it’s awesome. It’s incredible. Yay. Ok, I am not exactly ecstatic. “But you’re DONE, OMG, you must feel amazing!” To which I find myself essentially wanting to say firmly: “Ahem. Shut. It?” You have no idea. Done ain’t done. As I’m learning, it’s a process. That last infusion on May 2 was a bitch. It took the first three weeks just to pull myself out of the brain and pain fog, to get my appetite back, to have normal poops, to be able to walk up my two flights of stairs in less than 20 minutes. And there are a few residual goodies mostly to do with my left leg (toe, neuropathy, chronic vein issues and – brand new! – plantar fasciitis). So there are (literal) hills to climb. Yet, people still want to tell you how to feel. They mean well. They want you to be back to you. …

Margit’s Note: What Did You Just Say?

There is almost nothing that we can share with anyone — or anyone can share with us — that we haven’t already seen six ways from Sunday on our social feeds, the news, the TV or a phone alert. My husband and I will be laying in bed in the morning with our iPhones (I know) and I’ll say, “Did you see the…” He’ll interrupt, “Yes. I saw the BBC dad, Kate McKinnon as Jeff Sessions and what Trump said about….” Sigh. It’s depressing. Like, I want the glee of being the first to share Tank and the Bangas’ brilliant, innovative tunes with you. “Please, I knew about them, like last week.” Sigh. But there are still a few things in life that get shared the analog way, mouth-to-mouth, ear-to-ear; things people say in private; things we overhear walking down the street. Like the time that random person walked by my husband and me on a Brooklyn sidewalk, leaned in and just quietly muttered, “Asshole.” (We still debate the intended recipient of that moment.) And …

Margit’s Note: It’s a Flop!

It’s really hard running a website. No, it ain’t brain surgery, as a favorite colleague used to remind me at AOL (no comment). But even for someone who has a gazillion years experience running editorial teams for dot coms, there are days when you want to hit the big red “delete all posts NOW” button. It’s especially hard when it’s your baby. Your own creation. Your side gig. Your passion project. Your potential business. Your “Hey!! Look over here! Don’t you want to pay me to do this? You know you do.” Wink wink. Hip flick. Google Analytics tells you no one liked that “PETS” issue, you’re on your sixth Art Director (because your vision, their vision and your micro-manage-y approach has led to you making Picmonkey art at the last minute…more than once) and three people have unsubscribed from your newsletter. I speak theoretically, of course. The grind of a weekly publication is no joke. But then, the next sunshine-y day, you get a traffic bonanza for a meaningful essay, 50 people attend your …

Margit’s Note: Discretionary Dollars

We renovated our apartment recently and I look at my geriatric cat who has a penchant for puking or crapping on beloved sections of new carpet and I think why on earth ever spend money on any thing. Things are silly aren’t they? I mean, things do not bring us joy, no matter what Marie Kondo says. These days, I’d rather spend any “extra” cash that doesn’t go towards food, bills, laundry, doctor bills or this website on things that make a difference in my life and in other people’s lives. Experiences, travel, a trip to Austin with my friend Shelly for my 50th, giving back to people who need it. The state of our country has made me — and a lot of folks I know — regularly spend any extra cash on people asking for help, giving back to worthy causes, setting up monthly contributions, subscriptions to endangered newspapers and not as much on stuff. I can’t tell you the last time I bought a cute pair of jeans, and that’s saying something. …

Margit’s Note: Yearning to Breathe Free

We were going to do an issue called Love for obvious (Happy Valentine’s Day!) reasons. But then, as the news about the Muslim ban, immigrants — both legal and illegal — being detained or deported, refugees trying to find a home here in the U.S. started pouring in, we felt we had to do an issue about Immigrants. Plus, embracing those that just want a chance at a better life? Now that’s love. As Americans, every one of us has an origin tale, how our ancestors came to live in America and the struggles they endured — whether it was last week or hundreds of years ago; whether it was native-born, by boat or by force.  It’s not always a joyous story; more often than not dire circumstance brought us here. Thanks to my genealogist mother, I’m lucky enough to know a bit about the first folks in my bloodline who made their way to America, with the sole intention of eventually creating me. Ok, ok, they had other reasons too. There was Mennonite Jacob Detweiler, who was sick …

Margit’s Note:  Thanks, Sis

(Graphic by Divya Gadangi)It was a chilly 4:30am morning in Brooklyn, and I was bundled up and headed to the Women’s March in D.C. My bus was packed with pink pussy hats, mostly women —  and three guys. No one was quite awake yet. But no one wants coffee yet. It’s too damn early. I knew the organizer Sara and her sister Amy, but otherwise I didn’t know a soul. I’d nabbed one highly coveted seat to get to D.C.; I needed to be there, to represent, to feel connected in a world that seemed more and more divided. For me, this trip was semi ambitious — it was the first time I’d done anything this physically challenging since I’d recovered from cancer treatment. The idea of hoofing it and standing around for eight hours made me a little nervous, but for some reason I wanted to do this on my own, without my husband, mainly in the company of women. It wasn’t more than 10 minutes before I’d met the sparkly Yoon and Kathleen, two moms sitting across from me, cracking open their hard-boiled …

Margit’s Note: What Was I Going to Say?

The brain is a weird place. We instantly forget the name of someone we just met, but we remember every damn lyric to “Hotel California.” (“What a nice surprise, bring your alibis.” ARGH!) We rely more and more on our cloud-synced calendars, to do lists and electronic data to keep us current, and if that cloud ever crashed, our whole world would fall from bytes to bits. I am somewhat terrified of losing my memory. I remember seeing my great aunt delicately picking up a spoon to use with her salad and then putting salad dressing on her hamburger and being quietly explained to that she had lost her ability to remember how to do things. (To be fair, given today’s grain-filled salads, she might not have been so off.) As a six-year-old, I was scared to imagine that in the same way I was learning things, I might at some point unlearn them, too. I’ve often thought that there’s only enough genetic data for one sibling to get all the memory juice. For example, my sister has a photographic …

Margit’s Note: The Martin Mixtape

As a kid, I used to get Martin Luther and Martin Luther King Jr.’s names mixed up. Actually, I imagined one was the other one’s father. That the “King” one was the Dad. Blame it on growing up Lutheran and the fact that both names shared substantial storylines in my six-year-old head. Ironically, and somewhat unintentionally, I spent some time with both Martins over the last two days — watching MLK videos and reading from “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” and visiting the awesome Morgan Library where they’ve got a great exhibit on the elder Luther, a priest who defied many of the teachings of the Catholic Church by pinning Ninety-Five Theses (his rebuttal) to church doors, jump-starting the Protestant reformation 500 years ago. Even though I’m not religious, it was a thrill to see one of the old documents in real life — it’s like a bit of social media pioneering before there was social media and one of the first uses of the printing press. For anyone who works with words, it’s a powerful piece …

Ovarian Rhapsody: A Little Self-Renovation

Around the same time I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, we were scheduled to renovate our apartment. My husband, an architect, had started to sketch out the designs. We’d enlisted his favorite contractor, Slavek. Our plans were to update the kitchen and the bathroom and to turn an unused half bathroom — really, our cat’s bathroom that featured an easily accessible hole in the door, left from the former owner — into a full bath with a shower. Our kitchen was Brady Bunch-era wood-and-probably-formaldehyde paneled situation: The refrigerator sat in the living room and we had a non-working washer/dryer combo machine called a Comb-o-Matic, circa 1975. Floor tiles were loose and scattered around the bathroom floor. We’d been saving up cash and waiting to do this project for a good seven years. It was time. So after processing the news of my upcoming ordeal, one of the first things I said to my husband was, “But we still have to renovate, right? We can’t stop the progress!” “Um, no,” he said. “That’s not happening now.” …

Margit’s Note: I Came in Like a Wrecking Ball

As I stare at a huge pile of wall shards stacked in my bathtub, part of a renovation we decided to embark on months ago (read about that here), I’m reminded of the phrase “Sometimes you’ve gotta go down to go up.” And, truly, after months of banging, scraping, hammering, replacing, affixing and waiting in the IKEA return line (THE WORST), we now have a glorious new tub that’s so much better than before. Look! We have hot AND cold. The same can be said for our bodies, our careers, our relationships, and, um, maybe our president? Sometimes you have to experience the worst to unearth something great (or, at least, appreciate what you had before and say, wait, wait I liked that other one! Can we have it back?) That’s the optimistic way of looking at it. I truly believe though, even with something terrible like, say, cancer, if you’re lucky enough to make it through, there are things you discover about your body and mind that might make you better than ever before. …

Margit’s Note: Wait! One More Thing

(Photo: Stocksy) We are in the 11th hour of 2016 with 11 more days left. (I don’t even want to ask, “Well what else could happen in 2016?” because, heaven knows, a ton.) So what’s left to do? Did you send out your holiday cards yet? Well, DID YOU. No judgment. No panic. They can be New Year’s Cards….again. Look, there’s no shame in waiting until the last minute. This column is usually pieced together the day before or very often the day of. LIKE TODAY. You’d never know, right? Don’t answer that. Panic-induced inspiration can be a beautiful thing. Pondering and meandering left behind, you’re only left with the core task at hand and it must be done. And who cares if you bought those gifts on Christmas Eve; no one’s the wiser and you got it done, didn’t you? Good things can happen at the end of the year: You spend money on your health savings account, you give final donations to worthy causes (a few we might suggest), you tip your mail …

Margit’s Note: My Mourning List

After rolling out of bed every morning, I shuffle to a particular spot on my living room rug, take a few deep breaths, set my intentions for the day and then mentally list the names of the people I miss and mourn: grandparents, aunts and uncles, half a dozen pets, lost friends, parents of friends, a few people I never knew personally but left an indelible mark (this year, it was Sharon, Bowie, Prince, Leonard). These are people I just don’t want to forget. I gather them up and sort of hoard them in my head. Each time someone I love (or someone I love loves) dies, they get added to my morning/ mourning list. I once told my 70-something mom about this routine, and she laughed, “Oh, that list is going to get unmanageably long.” That may be. But, for now, it keeps their spirits alive. And, in fact, a few of them now have a job to do. Several years ago, I was dealing with some sort of pressing decision about work while walking …

Your Post-Election Checklist for Taking Action, Taking Care and Dealing with Your Feelings

It’s only been a week. And yet, here we are. After the 2016 presidential election results we find ourselves distraught, depressed and still in shock. When we feel this confused and despondent, we here at TueNight like to ground ourselves in lists, action items and game plans. What can we do to help? What’s next in the fight? Where can we go to find peace? How can we help our kids? How can we make sure we’re being good allies and opening up our hearts and minds? To that end, we enlisted our TueNight crew and friends to compile a massive checklist of everything we might need right this very minute. It’s a very special edition of TueNight that we hope will both mobilize you and give you some peace. Clip-n-Save… Self-Care Tips When You Are Utterly Devastated — Karrie Myers Taylor Post-Election Do’s and Don’ts: Everyday Tips to Be a Better Human — Suzan Bond, Kia M. Ruiz, Madeleine Deliee Events, Rallies and Parties for Change: A Nationwide List — Gina Zucker 14 Ways to Be an Ally Right …

Editors Note: Nasty Women Vote

For a long time, I didn’t want to take a side here on TueNight. Blame the old-school newspaper journalist in me who doesn’t think reporters should take a political stance — or the fact that our site is all about middle-aged lady essays, not politics. But then. I don’t even have to list it for you. You know what it is, what he is. The pussy grabber. A friend texted me that her daughter told her the fourth grade boys at recess have a new game: “Whoever touches the most girls’ butts wins.” I actually texted her back, kind of downplaying it, saying that “oh, that’s the age where body parts are like a hilarious, weird thing, right?” She countered, “I agree, but in this instance, I think it is Trump. You can imagine the scenario: The kid sees the news and then asks the parent, ‘What does pussy mean?’ And they fumble, ’Oh, son, it’s a bad word for a girl’s bottom…’ And then they grab.” Another friend said that as she and her …

Ovarian Rhapsody: A Thank You Note

Back in January, just before I’d started chemotherapy, I’d been talking to my friend Adrianna about cold caps, the beanie of ice that sits atop your head and (hopefully) prevents your hair from falling out during treatment. Expensive and painful, I wasn’t too sure it was for me, but this was the stage when I was researching, frantically Googling and considering anything and everything. I had no idea what I was in for. Via email, Adrianna introduced me to her friend Casey, who had worn the cap and preserved most of her hair during a second bout with cancer. Only five minutes after I’d emailed Casey, I had a response. “Margit. I wanna come over asap. When works?” And two days later, there she was, sitting on my couch, counseling me — a beautiful, earthy soul with colorful bracelets and talismans about her neck and wrists, moving gingerly, still recovering from recent treatment. Her hair was thin, but there it was. She handed me a pretty cloth bag filled with sugar-free gum, savory Kind bars, …