Tag: wwk

Women Worth Knowing

Women Worth Knowing: Meet Velma

the outside lane

Velma, my father, and my mother. I’m in the picture too, but it would be about 7 more months before you could see me.

Velma was a fifteen-year-old from North Florida when she married Buford.  She had her only child a year later, a boy who would grow up to be my father.  Two years after that, in 1942, Buford was killed in a car accident.  At the age of nineteen, Velma was a widow.

She would marry twice more in rapid succession, ultimately ending up in Alabama with my Granddaddy, George.
In my mind’s eye, Granny is always dressed in a neatly pressed coral colored, sleeveless, cotton button-down shirt and matching gingham checked capri pants, her red hair perfectly bouffant in juxtaposition to the beads of perspiration dotting her upper lip and forehead as she works in that hotbox she called a kitchen.
Sometimes I can manage to put her memory in the metal rocker on the front porch, or at least sit her down in the dining room, but before I know it, she’s gotten up and she’s frying cornbread, or baking a cake, or putting ice water in a mason jar.
I probably know Granny’s backside better than I ever knew her front, having followed her up and down the length of that narrow space more times than I could tell you.
For most of her life, Granny worked in the cotton mills.  It was hard labor, done in bricked out buildings with no natural light or ventilation, long before OSHA or Workman’s Compensation.  By the time I came along, when she was 47, she was dealing with emphysema.  The chain smoking didn’t help.
She was working for J.C. Penney’s when my parents met, and she furnished her house using her employee discount and the layaway program.  Little by little, Velma plugged away at beautifying her home.  If she wanted something, she would put it on layaway, and pay it off a dollar at a time.  Clothes.  Shoes.  Handbags.  The plastic covered sofa in the living room.  The glass swans on the mantle.  She worked long and hard for everything she had.
We lived just down the hill from Granny while I was in kindergarten and first grade.  My father was in Okinawa, and we had moved home to be near Grandma and Boom, and Granny and Granddaddy.  Granny would pick me up from school every day and take me to the Magic Market for an Icee, and keep me at her house until Mom came to pick me up.
I thought she was the most beautiful, elegant grandmother in the world.  She was poised and graceful, and moved like a dancer.  I never heard her raise her voice–not even the time I stuck a straight pin into her backside.  She was all Avon jewelry, pretty shoes, and perfume to me.
She was not without her challenges.  Her ill-health made her very difficult at times, and for various reasons, we were not close for many years.  Thankfully, in the last two years of her life, we were able to connect and fall in love again.
Cancer had whittled her down to nothing, and to her dismay her hair had grown back as white as snow after chemotherapy, but she still walked like 40s runway model and though they hung on her, her clothes were always clean and pressed.
I really didn’t know her well enough to tell you too much about her, but I do know that she always wanted a bigger bustline.  At her viewing, before her funeral, I kept staring at her body.  Something wasn’t right.  I thought it might have been that she wasn’t wearing her glasses, or perhaps her hair wasn’t just right.  I stared and stared and couldn’t put my finger on it.  Then, as I was turning away, out of the corner of my eye it hit me.  Granny had a substantial rack!
The funeral home had stuffed a bra for her, I guess assuming she had died of breast and not lung cancer.  Granny had gone from wearing a training bra all of her life, to a full and lovely C-cup between the swells of which, her final nightgown dipped into a valley against her sternum.
She would have loved it.
Women Worth Knowing

Women Worth Knowing: Meet Krista

the outside lane

If you ever want to share a taxi in Las Vegas, I highly suggest finding out whether or not Krista would care to share it with you.  She’ll make the frustrating ride worthwhile with her quick wit.  Also, you could find much worse things to look at.  I tried not to let my staring be too obvious, but Krista is very pretty and I like looking at her.

Since I have known her, Krista has battled cancer and fought back from a near death hospitalization while holding down more than a full-time job, often under extremely stressful office circumstances, raising Greyhounds, dealing with a failing economy in a very depressed market of the U.S., and is newly single after an arduous struggle to save a long-term marriage.  And she has done all of this with grace, humor, and fantastic looking hair.

You want to know how good survival can look?  Look at Krista.

She is generous and loyal.  She is a hard worker.  She is effortlessly stylish.  She is unsinkable.

Meet Krista.

Name:  Krista Butala Chapman

Age Range:  Late 30’s (shhh… I will now stay this way forever. What?)

Job Title:  Creative Director – I make the pretty.

Industry:  Advertising/Media – I bleed CMYK


Who are you? I am recently divorced after a 16 year marriage and starting over in my late 30’s. How did THAT happen? My grandmother asked me last week “what are you going to do with the rest of your life?”

I think I became physically ill for about 10 minutes as I collected myself. As of this moment, I am not too sure where life is going to take me but I’m ready. Life, I’m driving a new car, hit it.

Describe your family: My family is all over the country and I count my close friends as family as well. From the each coast; East and West, the Midwest, the South, Southwest… the people I love are everywhere. Did I mention I have a 12/13 year old half sister? Yup. There’s a shock to my 30 something brain.

What is the last hour of your day like? My feet hit the floor at 5:30 am after I hit snooze about 3 times. I shower, beautify (as much as I feel is humanly possible on a day-to-day basis), dress and let my 2 small dogs out. Pack a lunch, drink a cup of coffee, pop my vitamins, have a smoke (I know, it’s bad for you) and bolt out the door for work. I am tired already.

The last hour? [The last hour of the day I] wash [my] face, brush teeth, change in to pj’s. I am in bed usually by 9-9:30 and will cuddle up with my dogs while I watch tv and drift off to sleep. I usually wake up in the middle of the night with a 10 lb italian greyhound on my face. She might be trying to smother me in my sleep, who can tell? Ooh. I am living on the EDGE!

What makes you feel successful? I find success in so many things, which surprisingly, doesn’t include my job. I’ve won awards and all those things but the simple fact that I wake up everyday, take a breath and know I’m still here after all I have been through? That is success.

What brings you joy? Ah joy. I have always said, you MUST find joy in all you do. Even the tiniest bit, otherwise it’s not worth doing. At this current time in my life, knowing I have employment, having my 2 dogs, a roof over my head, knowing people care about me, support and love me… that brings me joy.

What women do you admire? I admire my grandmother. She’s 86, has 5 children, a long time widow and to this day, she’s STILL feisty. She’s just always amazed me and she’s so damn strong. When I grow up. I want to be her. And the woman looks damn good for 86. They let me vent, scream, cry, laugh and have a damn meltdown and come back to my center without judging me… and all within a hour’s time span.

What do you admire about yourself? I think I admire my strength. I am one damn strong woman.

What advice do you have for boys? Oh [what advice do I have for] boys? Just listen. Communicate with us. Appreciate us.

How do you face adversity? I should be the poster child for adversity. Divorced parents, my mother almost died in an accident when I was 14, I put myself through college with very VERY little assistance, moved across the country alone, I’ve had cancer, I’ve almost died in surgery, been through divorce, worked my tush off to get where I am… yes. Adversity, I do not fear you anymore.

How would you like to be remembered? I would like to people just to remember how my face lights up when I smiled and that I truly loved.

Women Worth Knowing

Women Worth Knowing: Meet Pamela

the outside lane

Used with permission. Photo by Jason Wesley Upton.

I started reading Pamela Ribon’s recaps of The Gilmore Girls on Television Without Pity several years ago. She never failed to make me laugh. Liking to laugh and being a nosy thing, I followed a link to her blog and spent many happy hours catching up on her world. Then, I started following her on Twitter. It was like making a friend, only she was an imaginary friend since she had no idea I existed. I will not lie. I have fantasized about how much fun it would be to hang out with Pamie at the Krystal Burger or the Krispy Kreme. I don’t know why, but all my BFF fantasies about Pamie have to do with fast food. Wait. Yes, I do. Ha!

Over the years, I have emailed Pamela Ribon (I can only call her Pamie if I am in the throes of a BFF fantasy, otherwise, she is Pamela Ribon) and been fangirl giddy when she responded. I wrote her once just to tell her how much I enjoyed her blog. Then I wrote her to get more information on Pamela’s annual book drive the Dewey Donation System. I wrote her to say congratulations when she started writing for Samantha Who?, and again to say bravo when she was leading a strike team during the 2007 WGA strike. When I picked up this project again, I thought, “Oh my gosh…Pamie! My BFF Pamie would be so good for this!” Then I remembered Pamela Ribon wouldn’t be able to pick me out of a crowd with a pink carnation, so I wrote to her again with fingers and toes crossed, knowing she was very busy with her latest book release. I named dropped my high school chum, Laura House, hoping that would help sway her.

Graciously as ever, she responded, and I’ve been teasing you with her profile ever since.

Pamela’s latest publication is Going In Circles, a book about friendships and finding your way out of heartache through, well, ass-ache. I just finished it last night, and it is every bit as good as her other books.

Along with being a sitcom writer, novelist, blogger, twitterer, former television recapper, activist, and philanthropist, Pamela is a Roller Derby girl. Isn’t she exactly the sort of woman you want to know? She is.

Meet Pamela.

Name: Pamela Ribon, aka Pamie, aka Wonder Killer
Age Range: I just turned 35 and I don’t understand how that happened.
Preferred Job Title: Writer, performer, derby girl, professional silly person.
Industry: Your television and your bookshelves.


How did you come to writing as a profession?
I hustled. Oh, Internet. You used to be so much smaller. I wrote a “web diary” back when people couldn’t understand why other people would willingly read the words of strangers on the Internet. And upon that, I built my empire! In all seriousness, I seized every opportunity I could find. At one point I was performing six shows a week in a comedy club, writing a weekly tech-humor column for the Austin American-Statesman, wrote the dub scripts for Japanese anime, updated my personal site every day, and at two in the morning I would write recaps for Television Without Pity (which back then was known as Mighty Big TV). Oh, and I had a full-time job doing tech support for IBM. I do not understand when I slept.

As the freelance work became more consistent, I was able to support myself through writing alone…as long as I maintained at least six active jobs at all times.

It occurs to me that I still, twelve years later, have never held just one single job. I moved out to Los Angeles in 2000 and started the hustle all over again. I was lucky enough to find a few very supportive agents, and within a few years I’d sold my first novel, a screenplay (based on that novel), and landed my first television gig on a pilot for Oxygen that you never saw.

I consider myself very lucky to work in an industry that spends 99.9% of its time saying “no.”

Where do you draw inspiration?
I have a hard time drawing inspiration from anything other than my life. If I don’t see myself in the situation, or know how I’d react to it, it doesn’t feel real to me. I wouldn’t know what to say about it. This is probably what keeps me from the entire vampire phenomenon. I don’t know how to imagine myself in a world filled with immortal blood-drinkers. If only Twilight was about klutzy people who dance uncontrollably whenever they hear “Shake Your Rump” by the Beastie Boys. There’s a genre I can embrace.

How much research goes into a novel?
I often quote my literary agent when this question arises. A few years ago, I think right after the second novel was published, she smiled and asked, “So what terrible thing are you going to have to go through in order to get your next novel?”

Describe your family: I can’t do that succinctly, so I will direct you to 320 pages of answers in a novel called “Why Moms Are Weird.”

What does the first hour of your day look like?
Make coffee during the following: Feeding two cats (give insulin injection to one cat) and last night’s dishes. Coffee. Daily Show during: email, Twitter, Facebook, Words With Friends, more coffee, and then “Oh, crap. Did I forget to brush my teeth?”

The last hour?
I either fall asleep with a book in my hand or in the middle of laughing about something that probably won’t seem as funny in the morning.

What makes you feel successful?
When someone I don’t know tells me about something I wrote that made them feel something they’ve been struggling to understand.

What brings you joy?
The people I love in places I love. Travel. Karaoke. French fries. David Sedaris.

What women do you admire?
Mary Tyler Moore, Carol Burnett, S.E. Hinton, Carole King, Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, Ellen DeGeneres, Fiona Apple, Tara Ariano, Cori Stern and of course: Oprah.

What advice would you give boys about girls?
The fact that they might be smarter than you is a good thing. Never make them feel small.

How do you overcome adversity?
Without adversity, I wouldn’t be anywhere. Since I was very little I only wanted to do the things I was told I couldn’t do. Not *shouldn’t*, like touch a hot stove or something. I’m still very observant of rules and laws. But if someone ever told me something was “too hard” or “extremely unlikely,” that’s when I went at it full-force.

How do you want to be remembered?

This question is so morbid! But you know, obviously I want to be remembered. Why else would I have written half of my life down for people to see? For strangers to judge? But I can’t actually think about someone I love missing me because it makes me too sad. I can’t even handle how much my mom misses me right now even though we got off the phone about an hour ago.

Fondly. I want to be remembered fondly. And that something I said or did or wrote makes them laugh right when they need to most.

Uncategorized

Nostalgia

the outside lane

Leslieann, Renae, Wedding-Me, Sarah, Jamie, and Karen.

I’m feeling nostalgic tonight, and enjoying memories of the women who walked me down the aisle.  You’ve already met them, but just in case you missed anyone, these are Leslieann, Renae, Jamie, and Karen.  When Sarah-Mac is old enough for me to feel comfortable posting about her on the internet, we’ll add her to the mix.  Until then, she can be adorably anonymous-ish.

I am a fortunate woman.

Uncategorized

Women Worth Knowing: Meet Arwen

the outside lane

Arwen even found me a Cracker Barrel. This woman is the best!

In every movie about women with careers, there is the one woman who makes it look easy.  There is the woman who is married, has a child, has an idealized job in a glamorous industry, who can whip everything and everyone into shape with a few sharp words and who punctuates every life-saving lecture with, “Cupcake?”  That’s Arwen.  Arwen is totally the Bailey when it comes to life saving lectures, too.  You know, if Bailey made cupcakes.  No nonsense, and always right.  She can bring home the bacon, fry it up in the pan, and then bake cupcakes while she’s online managing the rest of the world.  When I need advice that I can and will follow, I go to Arwen.

I admire this woman.  When I fantasize about the type of woman I’d like to be (if I weren’t so distracted by shiny) I look a lot like Arwen.  I’d gush on about her, but it is too simple a fact for it to be so floral.  I simply admire Arwen.
Arwen always has something going on.  She’s working.  She’s parenting.  She’s wife-ing.  She’s fending off deer and snakes from her property.  She’s painting a room.  She’s refinishing furniture.  She’s clearing brush.  She’s chopping down trees.  She’s building a bridge over the creek in her back yard.  She’s baking cookies for her annual cookie party.  She’s baking cupcakes for her son’s class.  She’s working 20 hour shifts because Congress is in session, and people need to know what those knuckleheads are up to now.  She’s stuck in traffic emailing from her Blackberry.  She’s writing a blog (The Average Blogger.)  Or two (That’s What She Said.)  She’s taking amazing photographs of Civil War battlefields.  She’s traveling.  She’s cheering on the Nationals.  She’s–I’ll tell you what she should be.  She should be exhausted.
I have never met another human being who can do as much with as little time.   It’s a bit like being friends with Doctor Who.  Constant motion.  Constant excitement.  And she thinks it’s nothing at all.
She is practical and straightforward.  She is, as all of my favorite people are, brilliant.  She can make me laugh out loud harder and faster than anyone else I know.  And she once drove an hour out of her way to search for a camera I thought I had lost on a hayride.  THAT is a good friend.  Oh, and B likes her just as much as I do.  How often does that happen?
Meet Arwen.
Name: Arwen Lee Adams Bicknell. It’s long, but all four of those are a piece of my identity and heritage, so there it is.
Age Range: On the cusp of 40.
Preferred Job Title: Officially, Managing Editor for Online and Print Production. In my imagination, Empress of All I Survey.
Industry: Journalism.

Describe your family: Immediate family comprises my everloving husband, John, and my laugh riot son, Thomas, plus cats Gilda and Jane. Extended family is equally small and close-knit, and I spend at least two hours on the phone every weekend with my parents and grandparents.

What does the first hour of your day look like? Dark, dark, dark, full of work, work work. The alarm goes off sometime between 4:30 and 5:30, depending on how much I predict I will need to get done before 8, and I am online within 7 minutes of the alarm going off — and five of those minutes are spent waiting for the damn computer to boot up.

The last hour? Because I get up so early, I tend to crash hard. I kiss the kid goodnight at 8:30 and wander off to my own bed, where I aspire to reading one chapter of anything before passing out, but most nights I usually just flop onto Tha Mister’s shoulder while getting sucked into whatever dreck is on TV.

What makes you feel successful? I’m pretty easy on that score. Completion of a project, from a good batch of jelly or crocheted blanket to just having a clean house. I will say I think I feel most successful when I’ve succeeded in passing along some skill or information to someone else. Teaching Thomas how to fold laundry, teaching a new employee how to be a good editor; those are the best parts.

What brings you joy? All things Thomas. The way he laughs when he is happy, the way he sings to cheer himself when he’s less than happy, the way he gets righteously pissed off and stompy and makes me want to throttle him because, well, “I’ve told you 100 times not to slam that door like that, young man! THIS is how you slam a door!” Just, all of it.

What women do you admire? I admire lots of women. Does everyone say their mom? She’s in there; she can rebuild car engines and tame horses. I aspire to be as competent as my mother, as socially adept as my grandmother, as innovative as Coco Chanel, as badass as Margaret Thatcher,and as nurturing as Mother Earth. I guess my TV role model is Claire Huxtable.

What do you like best about your closest friend? That he was smart enough to marry me.  It gives us more time to have all that fun together.

What do you like best about yourself? Is it weird that this was the hardest question to answer? It’s much easier to detail what I don’t like, since I tend to spend more time working on that or making excuses why I’m not working on it. But best? I guess it would be my attitude. John refers to it as an “everybody just calm the fuck down demeanor.” I think I take a pretty rational and evenhanded view of the world instead of getting worked up or taking things personally. First, it lets me sleep better at night, and second, it helps me better assess problems and solutions.

What advice would you give boys about girls? Oh, I am doling this out all the time, to my husband, to my son, to my dad….  The first advice I gave Thomas was to invest heavily in the phrase, “You were right; I was wrong.” Of course, the second phrase he really needed to survive kindergarten was “You’re not the teacher; I don’t have to do whatever you say.”

How do you overcome adversity? I’d like to say I do it with energy and vigor, but the truth is I probably do it with a gusty sigh, an eyeroll, and then planting my feet and shoving as hard as I can.

How do you want to be remembered? Oh, my. I think I’d like to be remembered as someone who knew how to turn work into something fun, and helped other people do so as well.

And since Arwen is one of the handful of women I know who is successful in the career she actually went to school to achieve, I thought I would ask her for a little more information.

What advice would you give to women in middle and upper management? Don’t ever confuse being a boss with being a bitch. There are times to be stern and times to be blunt and deliver harsh truths, but there’s always a way to do that without getting personally nasty, and there’s really never any cause to snap and bite and humiliate subordinates. Likewise, you don’t have to be a bitch to move up the ladder; you have to be competent and assertive, not malicious and subversive.

What advice would you give to girls on getting a job in their desired field? Don’t be afraid. Do your research about the field, talk to people who have the job, see if you can get some firsthand experience as an intern or summer employee. Ask the stupid questions, make the dumb mistakes — once, so you can learn from them. And if you do get the job and find it doesn’t suit you, don’t be afraid to change course. I know a lot of people who invested themselves, found out the job wasn’t for them, but stuck with it for whatever reason — fear of failing in another field, fear of wasted investment, I don’t know what. Don’t be afraid.

What matters most? Being useful. Finding a way to contribute, even if it’s just picking lint off the sofa, is the most gratifying feeling I know, and it has done the most to advance me in my life, my career, my sense of self. My boss told me once that if he had to choose my epitaph, it’d be what I say to him all the time: “I’m done with my stuff. What else ya got?” That was just about the nicest thing he ever could have said to me. If I can teach Thomas to be one of those useful kids who clears the table instead of one of those entitlement brats who just expect the grownups to clean up their every mess, I’ll feel like I really did something worthwhile.