Canyons, Cactus, and Casinos, Oh My!

Filed Under All Posts, Connie Stetson, Courage, Travel | 14 Comments

Connie and Lee tackle their first rapid

Connie Stetson discovers a brave new world with adventure around every curve

As I write, it’s been a little over a week since Lee and I completed a month-long, nearly 300 mile journey through the sands of time. Literally. I am still rinsing the freaking sands of time out my gear.

My husband, with the Greenwood Expedition, party of 11, began a river trip at Lee’s Ferry near Glen Canyon Dam on Jan. 27th to raft the upper Grand Canyon. I left Fresno on Feb. 4th, flew to Flagstaff, took a shuttle bus to the South Rim, checked in at the Bright Angel Lodge, and at 8:30 am on Feb. 5th, I began my journey down, down, down, through snow and ice, mud and streams, more than ten miles, seven oceans, and millions of years of geologic time, (sorry, fundamentalists…that would be more than 6,000) — to meet them near Phantom Ranch on the mighty, muddy Colorado River. The next day, in a driving rainstorm, two walked out; and then we were ten, in four rafts, launching off into the rapids of the Grand Canyon.

How was it, you ask? It was exhausting, thrilling, challenging, beautiful, vexing, uncomfortable, cold, painful, quiet, noisy, scary, soothing, hard, transcendent, and nourishing. Read more

Surrender Dorothy!

Filed Under All Posts, Courage, Melissa Howden | 18 Comments

Melissa Howden finds heart, patience and peace, in an unexpected way.

Just as Dorothy tripped the light fantastic down the Yellow Brick Road, so of late have I.

I liken the start of 2010 to my own private storm—raggedy emotions and best-laid plans, turned upside down in quick succession. Perversely stubborn and independent, it’s begun to dawn on me that life is not created on will and persistence alone. In short, nothing in my life has been flowing with ease.

The most recent and hopefully final insult being a freak accident during a ski lesson (part of my “plan” to improve my skills, face my fears and get in the best shape possible) on a mogul made of ice topped with fresh powder. Going down, my pole stuck in the wrong position with my wrist trapped in the strap; I heard the snap, snap of two bones breaking.

Adding insult to injury, one of the first questions posed to me by the young brawny ski patrol was, “Have you had a bone density test?” If Kansas was my youth, I knew I wasn’t there anymore. To his credit, he was very skilled and he did refrain from calling me “ma’am”. Read more

Before the Fall

Filed Under All Posts, Courage, Melissa Howden, Relationships | 8 Comments

The change of season has Melissa Howden working on her equilibrium.

We just hurtled into fall. The autumnal equinox has just taken place. But lest you think you’ve missed anything, know this; the actual equinox (etymology = equal & night) actually takes place several days after the event depending upon where you are, geographically speaking.

In my neck of the woods, we will experience equal amounts of day and night within a minute on the 25th and 26th of the month. What does any of this mean? Generally speaking it means that the Sun rises directly in the east and sets directly in the west. It is a turning point—literally—in the year, the seasons being determined by the tilt of the Earth on its axis. It is also the time when we enter into the astrological constellation of Libra, the sign of balance on the scales.

THIS is where metaphor is made manifest. I find this time especially meaningful if not extremely challenging. I’ve been off kilter, out of step, unsure of my center, off my game, call it what you will it has not been especially pretty.

Simply put, I. AM. OUT. OF. BALANCE! Read more

A Few Good Men

Filed Under All Posts, Connie Stetson, Courage, Relationships | 10 Comments

I want to sing the praises of good men. Men who teach, love and protect children. Men who deny their own needs in order to put their families first. Men who really like and seek the company of women. Men who are called to service, or art, or creation, or justice; who can fix broken things, can build and farm, who cook, and men who use their strength to stand for those who cannot.

It often becomes so easy for women in our righteous anger, disappointment, frustration and worse, real fear, to disparage our brothers. Some of the most hilarious, satisfying, nasty conversations I have with my girlfriends are over martinis and indulging in a little cock talk. (And you can take that any way you want.)

But it hurts my soul to feel that we need to see men as adversaries, that we feel the need to brace ourselves in their presence waiting to see if we’ll be assaulted, and that we feel essentially unsafe in their company. So we get snarky and funny, and blame them for what has and has not happened to us in our lives. Read more

Nice Girls Finish Last

Filed Under All Posts, Cathy Fischer, Courage, Rants | 13 Comments

Top Chef finalists Stephan, Carla and Hosea

When will women stop being such people pleasers?

Case in point: “Goody Two Shoes” is an expression reserved for females. It conjures up images of a child, a dimpled Shirley Temple-type, in a starched white dress, bobby socks and Mary Janes. “No more Mister Nice Guy,” on the other hand, is reserved for men. Picture a driven, successful executive. Mad Men’s Don Draper comes to mind.

After watching the finale of Top Chef, I was peeved. The three remaining finalists, two men and one woman, were asked to cook a $100k-winning meal. I was enthusiastic about Carla Hall, a 44-year-old woman with her own catering business, a great sense of humor and a big heart; an underdog who eventually found her stride and became a real contender.

Carla has personality as big as her hair. She cooks with love, and is proud to say so, plus she has classic French training and southern roots to boot. But Carla did not win. Why? Because, like so many women, Carla is just too nice!  Read more

Wigging Out

Filed Under All Posts, Cathy Fischer, Courage, Health | 23 Comments

Breast Cancer update: I had donated my breasts to science last June, got new ones (no they’re not bigger), went on Tamoxifen and thought I was back to the “new” normal. But, things have changed. I’ve since decided to go the chemo route, based on second and third opinions, and to cover all my bases. I’ve had one treatment thus far and, as predicted, my hair started falling out precisely two weeks after my first chemo blast. I kept a diary of sorts: from hirsute to hairless, in just three days.

Hair Fall-Out: Day One

I’m taking my wig for a test drive today. My hair is starting to come out. It’s much shorter, since I cut it a couple of weeks ago to the nape of my neck; so it’s not as bad when I see a sink full of hair. But, it’s no frickin’ picnic.

I’ve long been a shedder. Lots and lots of hair: hair to spare. How long until bald patches happen? When do I go for the military buzz cut? When my part resembles parting of the Red Sea?

I put the La Charme wig cap on my head. I pulled the nylon (as in pantyhose) cap down over my face, and looked like I was ready to rob a bank. I really didn’t want to draw that much attention to myself on my first outing, so I pushed it back, which reminded me of the actresses of days gone by—Gloria Swanson, Garbo, those true glamour girls of Hurrell’s Hollywood portraits. I was ready.    Read more

On Ripening

Filed Under All Posts, Connie Stetson, Courage | 4 Comments

“It is sad to grow old, but nice to ripen.” —Brigitte Bardot

Being a woman in full flower, of a certain age, and ripe, ripe, ripe, I often find myself comparing how I was to how I am.  CBF (Connie Before Fifty) was just a glimmer of who I am becoming. Confidence, discipline, integrity, fearlessness would come and go like the Aurora Borealis—shining, colorful and dazzling; dancing and playing for all it’s worth.

Then the self-talk would take over.  I’d tell myself all sorts of half-truths.  That I wasn’t worthy, couldn’t fulfill my promises, can’t do that, too tired, they’ll find out I’m a fraud, they don’t need me, I can’t cut it, or worst of all, they don’t like me.  I’d go about proving why all those things were true, hate myself for a few months, then gear up my energy for another go round, and again, fly and sing and be in my true self.  It was exhausting. Read more

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