The Lovely Mrs. Stetson

Filed Under All Posts, Connie Stetson, Politics, Relationships | 14 Comments

She nods, she smiles, and you really think she’s listening. Meet Connie Stetson, celebrity wife.

Towards the end of September, my husband Lee and I are off to New York City to celebrate his participation as John Muir in Ken Burns’ new documentary series on PBS, The National Parks: America’s Best Idea. We are thrilled of course, to hobnob in the Big Apple with celebs, attend galas and attend as honorees, a huge concert in Central Park to kick off this amazing documentary. I simply cannot wait to get all dressed up, wear pretty shoes, put some makeup on my puss and transform myself into “the lovely Mrs. Stetson.”

My single most important function of this task, (that I’ve now performed hundreds of times) it seems, is to stand near my actor husband, smile, nod, beam, shake hands and occasionally mutter niceties like, “Yes, how interesting” or “Lovely evening, isn’t it?” For all occasions I’ve learned that the phrases, “How about that?” and “Isn’t that something”, can be inserted anywhere—even when you are concertedly not listening. Read more

One Loyal Friend is Worth Ten Thousand Relatives


Filed Under All Posts, Connie Stetson, Family, Group Posts, Relationships | 15 Comments

Connie Stetson muses on friends and relations, relatively speaking.

Not to speak ill of relatives, of course, but Euripedes got that right. I’m grateful that my sister and have become good friends, and I’m glad I only have one sister to work my shit out with, but we never had a choice. It’s the combo-pack with family. For good or ill, with deeper issues to work out, old wounds to mend; we’re all so invested in the story we made up about when we were kids that it’s nearly impossible to show up as changed, or better, or over that, ya know?

Ah, but our friends… To be able to say to someone, “I absolutely support your change and growth, but you never have to change for me to love you.” Knowing that there are a select few out there who hear your truth and your inconsistencies, and you theirs, is a mighty, mighty force indeed. To allow a dear friend, in all loving honesty to say, “your ass looks like a giant bag of potatoes in those pants, take them off now!” To stand with a friend as she walks through loss, illness, change and all of the boundless joyful stuff too—well, this is what helps keeps me anchored. Read more

Soup is Good Food

Filed Under All Posts, Connie Stetson, Health | 8 Comments

The unseasonably cool weather has Connie Stetson cookin’ up good thoughts on good food.

Up here where I live in the Sierra foothills, or the tullies, the sticks, the weeds, the outback—it is not unusual for the temps in mid-June to be tickling the soft underbelly of the low 90s. A harbinger of the dreaded dog days of summer—July, August, September, when temps reaching the high 90s to 100 are typical and loathed, and locals just sigh and say, “Well, at least we don’t live in Phoenix!”

But this June it has been downright and blissfully cool, so tonight I’m slipping into my softest, warmest jammies and I’m making a homemade soup, a split pea soup with ham to be precise. As comforting a comfort food, aside from mac and cheese, as you can get. (And by the way, if there is a heaven, I’ll expect to be able to eat all the mac and cheese I can stomach without gaining weight, so there.) I can smell it now as I type: the onions, garlic, carrots, peas, celery, the ham hocks, all bubbling together, the fragrance wafting through the house, feeling like a warm hug. If I had a cold I’d feel better already. Read more

Confessions of an F-Word Addict

Filed Under All Posts, Connie Stetson, Humor, Reinvention | 27 Comments

Hi. I’m Connie and I’m an F-Word addict. (Okay—Now you all say encouragingly, “Hi, Connie”.)

I guess my addiction began when I was a teenager in the late ‘60s. In fact, I’m sure that that word was so forbidden; I’d never even heard it spoken out loud till I was 16, thank you Frank Zappa, but once Pandora’s box was opened, I could not stop myself. I started in the car, in traffic, with the windows rolled up, in bars, at sporting events—well, everyone else was…. Then I amped it up, using a little at first in public, just to be naughty, and before I knew what was happening I was running with a wild crowd. You know, artists, musicians, theater people, users of Maryjane, and unapologetic, irretrievable aficionados of the F-bomb. My mother was aghast.

I began using the F-word as noun, an adjective, a verb, an adverb, anyway way I could torture it, twist it into a sentence, was okay by me. Soon, I couldn’t control myself. That word had become part of my vernacular. I had become a habitual pottymouth, a borderline “vulgar”, as my mother had predicted. I began hanging around dockworkers, construction sites, listening to rap music, went to David Mamet plays; I was an addict. Read more

Wondrous Women

Filed Under All Posts, Connie Stetson, Media, Pop Culture | 12 Comments

From myth-inspired creatures to male fantasies, Connie Stetson does a fly-by on female superheroes, bad girls and spies.

I had an interesting conversation with a girlfriend the other day about which secret agent vixen one would rather be, Honey West or Emma Peel. She declared herself to absolutely to be Mrs. Peel, (she loves those stiletto boots and that black vinyl cat suit, and who wouldn’t want to be Diana Rigg anyway?) where I am sure that on my very best days, I channel Honey West, who looked great in a sweater and, to me, simply looked more comfortable. And gee, I wish I’d a been born with that cool beauty mark. Thank you, Anne Francis.

This got me thinking about female superheroes, so I decided to do a little research. Now, Honey West and Mrs. Peel, along with Ellen Ripley, Lara Croft and Aeon Flux are not necessarily superheroes. They are exceedingly intelligent, fit, courageous, righteous, strong women, gifted by nature to kick ass. They use their natural born, God-given gifts—their wits, their sexuality, their physical prowess and their brains—to defeat evil and further the cause of justice and, of course, maintain the balance of power in a world gone mad. Read more

Come Back Little Mojo

Filed Under All Posts, Connie Stetson, Health, Relationships | 11 Comments

What is it about the libido and midlife? Connie Stetson tells it like it is.

Okay ladies—as Joan Rivers would say, “Can we talk?” I’m going to go there—middle-aged SEX.

When I was young and juicy and single, I was really hot. I was a devotee. When I was in a relationship, I was a faithful and an enthusiastic lover. When I wasn’t committed, I was…let’s see…how did we say it back in the day? Hmmmm… oh yeah, “a good sport.” I couldn’t wait for that breathless, heart pounding, heightened moment of letting go and falling into a hot, steamy embrace.

I loved going out and meeting a new guy. I was a believer in the third date. Delaying, anticipating, teasing and finally releasing myself into that exquisite moment, well, I just looked forward to it so much. It never even occurred to me then, that I would ever feel differently. Yet, here I am at 57, in pretty good shape for an old broad, menopausal to be sure, and yet I almost never even think of SEX. I can’t believe it.

Not all of the older couples I know feel this way. 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

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