on kissing frogs

When I was a little girl there were very few people that The Oracle would leave me with because, well, I just didn't really like people. Seriously. There were just not many people that I liked outside of my mom ... and my Uncle Doug.

When I was very little, there was a woman who befriended my family. A couple really. Donna Anderson was a witch. She told us so from the very first time she met us. I, of course, was very skeptical being the realist I was as a child. Her husband, Virgil, worked on the railroad with my dad. They were wonderful. She was full of whimsy and magic, and Virgil was a crotchety old man who loved her. He would always sort of wave his hand and dismiss her silliness. And I will never, ever forget ...  There was a portrait of her when she was young that hung in their living room. So glamorous. All sepia tone with red lipstick and perfectly waved hair and the perfect just barely off the shoulder neckline ... She was a vision. The kind of woman I hoped beyond hope I would become.

I got to spend a lot of time with Donna and Virgil when I was little. They became sort of surrogate grandparents to me and Michael. They, much to my chagrin, stayed with me while my parents went to the hospital so Sarah could be born. I felt totally offput - I was the only one home when my mom surprisingly went into labor. I helped her pack and do all of the things. Yet, I had to stay home like a child when she went to the hospital. My nine-year-old heart was crushed. I was clearly more grownup than they realized.

Donna constantly tried to convince me that she was a witch. I didn't believe her for a minute. Magic wasn't real, and I was far too grown up {even at the wise age of 4} to realize this. Until one day ...

I was 7 years old. And Donna and Virgil came to pick me up because something was wrong with one of the cars I think? I'm not entirely sure. The 'rents had a Pacer and a Chevette because, we were just cool like that. My god, that Chevette went on forever. I carved my name into the back of it with a rusty piece of metal because it was clearly my car ... but I digress.

Donna and I decided we wanted to go to Wendy's because, duh ... it's Wendy's. What midwestern girl doesn't love fries and a frosty? But Virgil was being his crotchety self and didn't want to go. So Donna in her infinite wisdom asked 7-year-old Stacy what she thought she should do...

... this was a big moment. One not easily spent on frivolity. And 7-year-old Stacy was a very serious child. I thought about this for a good amount of time. And then I decided. She should turn him into a frog. So he could learn his lesson, naturally.

Never in a million years did I ever think that Donna would ACTUALLY turn Virgil into a frog. I mean, how absolutely absurd is that. So you can imagine my shock when later that day, Donna came to our house. She had her hands cupped over her belly, one on top of the other,  as if she was concealing something. And she called for me to come see her.

It was a hot summer day and I had been playing outside. So I met her on the pathway next to the shed in my parents' yard. Donna said to me "I have something to show you" and as she pointed to her cupped hands, my eyes got wide ...

There inside her hand was a FROG!! I was stunned. "VIRGIL???" I asked in a half whisper, half scream. And she looked into my eyes and nodded affirmatively. I gasped. And I felt horrible. What had I done??? She said to me "What do you think I should do?" And without missing a beat I told her "turn him back!!!"

Donna came by later that day I think to assure me that Virgil was no longer a frog. I was incredibly relieved. And I believe she was the first person who ever introduced me to magic. She was an amazing woman. And I am incredibly lucky to have had her and her crotchety husband in my life.

we are the men we wanted to marry ...

When I was 18, marriage was the furthest thing from my mind. Seriously. I've never had all of those "a man is going to come and rescue you and fix all of the things" fantasies. In fact when I was 15 and dating my first "real" boyfriend {whatever that means} my mom asked me if I thought I would marry him, to which I replied "no!" and I promptly broke up with him. The next day {sorry Greg}.

I had dreams of being a singer, or a conductor {the female badasses of the music world}, or some kind of academic. I was sure I would grow up to be some kind of musical genius because *duh* I was a Dove {every Dove on the planet somehow magically knows exactly what that means. My god, we're an arrogant lot}. Honestly, at 18 I had no earthly idea what I wanted to be ... I just was never the marriage girl. That is, until I went to college with Jesus.

Now don't misunderstand me ~ I have no quarrels with Jesus. He's totally cool. But when you go to college with Him, there's this narrative that I had no idea existed. About how *this* is where you're going to find the man/woman/alien/zygote that "god has intended for you" ... the one who was made "to finish your duet" {Enchanted anyone??}. It's basically your life's work to find him/her/it. whatever. *shakeitoff*

So there I was 19 and 500 miles away from my family and within two years, I'd found myself a husband. *shudder* A man who, even at that time, I would have told you was not the love of my life. He was supposed to be a good guy at least ... And thus ensued several years of horror that we do not need to discuss here. At least not now.

I say all of that to say this ... We're living in the 21st century. And I was raised, I believe, by an accidental feminist who was herself raised {again} by an accidental feminist. Both of these women had very traditional designs on life. Children. Family. Religion. But there's an undertone of strength and individuality in both of their lives. Very, very strong. They're full of awesome, that Henrietta & Diane.

When I was still living in NC, there was a darling an old man *blesshisheart* who sang in the choir where I had my church job. {What is it about older southern men that makes them think they can say whatever they want to you? Or at least to me ...} He would often ask me "when are you going to find a man to take care of you?" To which I would reply "now, why on earth would I want to do that?"

Here's the thing ... I never could have fathomed what my life would become. And the things I would be capable of. I am a business owner? an entrepreneur? I suppose that's a word I'm more comfortable with right now. Pursuing 2 careers with equal passion. *becauseican* Believing that both of them will work. *beacausetheyare* And the women in my life ... they're doing the same things. And while I find myself increasingly receptive to the idea of romance ... I still can't help but wonder why it is in the 21st century there is still an undertone that there must be a man in your life to make you successful as a woman?

So several weeks ago? Months ago? I found this ... {can we take a moment and thank the baby Beyoncé for Pinterest?}

And sent it to a friend. One of my people. She's full of awesome. And we are building businesses. Being entrepreneurial badasses. Making art. Creating beauty.

And while I never really cared whether I got married or not, it resonated with me. Because we have become that thing. The prize was always finding a man who could "support you in the lifestyle to which you'd like to become accustomed." But in an age when women can be successful and celebrated because they're awesome ... well, here we are.

Here's to a year of being the men they wanted us to marry.