and I will be 50 years old.
HAH!
Good for me, and I will enjoy all the rest of the years I'm given.
I will not let experiences that touch my heart diminish me.
I will not waste the gift that is my life in the refusal to take risks.
I will risk my heart on love in all its forms, it is self healing.
that would be me.
work sucks
home sucks worse than work
some of my erstwhile friends are really fucked
way too much drama for this woman
the weather is wet and cold and not in a nice way like a puppy nose.
the damn rads are too noisy
my knees hurt
my ankles are bitchin'
and my heart is an empty freakin void.
my brain is in slomo
my memory is in hiding
and I have so many things I'm supposed to be doing that I can't figure out where to start.
tired. so freaking tired.
What I really want to do is throw it all in a box and sell it off and run away home to where my heart has decided to stay.
What I have decided to do is to be a grown up, rationally think things through, make the plans, take the time to complete all of the details and hang in there till I can leave with Ts crossed and Is dotted.
Making sure that I am conservative in my risks, that those I leave behind have the least worry over MY future, and know that there will be some principal left for them when I am done and gone.
I thrash in the traces of my own making, tearing at the bit of "get this done first", and trying fruitlessly to buck off the saddle of "be financially responsible". My heart chastises me hourly because I refuse to chase down its missing pieces immediately and brings me often to the brink of tears at random and usually incongruous moments.
Yet here I plod, one step at a time, going through the motions so that when I do finally get to follow my heart it will be a successful venture with out the angst and difficulty there would be if I simply threw it all to the wind and left tomorrow.
No wonder I have days and nights where I cannot sleep, and when exhaustion finally pushes me to the limit I crash and burn.
The only surcease the conversations crackling with transatlantic interference, the joint plans and the continual affirmation that we do what we have to to get what we need and we simply have to keep holding on and move forward until we get there.
And all I want to do right now is throw a big hairy hissy fit. But really, what would be the point?
pants. stupid pants. ankle smothering knee covering too much material summer is gone pants.
bah.
I have changed my mind (surprise) and will keep my blog here for personal posts and I am sure the occasional rant, but I have created my own site, domain etc to follow the paths taken for the future move or for anyone else who wants to visit/move learn about Jamaica jacadian.com. see you there.
Having been a huge risk taker in the early part of my life and then trying to settle to be the mom and look after my kids, with some success and the occasional breakout moments of chaos, I find myself less than three months away from the big 5.0 and pondering what I have done with my life.
The incorrigible child, the sneaky cheeky preteen, the juvenile delinquent with itchy feet, the wife x 2, the mom, the artist, the ex x 2, the student, the teacher, the geek, the explorer and the writer have all culminated to this point. And I find myself once again anticipating risk. The inevitable circle?
At this point in our lives we (some of us) start to really look at what we're going to do for the rest of our lives. I always thought I would work till 65 and then hopefully be healthy and well off enough to do some traveling. Now, I have the opportunity, if the universes work with me and Murphy takes a vacay, to retire EARLY and live somewhere that feels HOME with every breath. It's risky. Some of my friends think I've lost what little of my grey matter I have left, but honestly it just feels right.
I've taken a multitude of risks intuiting that they were likely to fail, expectations of others and all that, but taken them anyway because the payoff would have been grand.
This time my intuition is just saying go Go GO!
Okay mom. I'm all in.
shout it from the rooftops. I love a man and he loves me. and to all those negative motherfuckers who are worried that I've lost my fat old ass mind. kiss it baby.
Last Wednesday was the longest day in history.
Thursday was oh so much better ... once I was on the plane to MoBay. The flight was totally packed with so many people and pieces of carry on that the steward had to ask everyone to shift some of it under the seats in order to get the big pieces in the overhead bins. Elders, families, babies and children, college kids, rockstars, and the occasional Caucasian all headed to the island. I cannot count the times I was asked “Why are you going to Jamaica?” I simply answered I needed to go home. The furrowed brows and quizzical looks only slightly outnumbered the “Oh, you have a black man there” comments. “I’m looking for a little house to buy so I can move next year”, seemed to take most of them by surprise ;) Culture is a beautiful thing.
Immigration: by the hundred little gods. 28 immigration officers on duty, 3 rat maze lines with 10 snaky bends apiece, each bend holding 30-40 people shuffling along in the nonexistent air conditioning, I’m sure I saw a couple of people go down while working their way through the maze. Not to mention the mash up of other sardines still arriving and backed all the way up the arrival ramps to the top and around the corner at four abreast. The grumbling twenty somethings and fractious children with harried parents all straining for movement forward, hats, tickets and pieces of anything employed as fans.
Me, I was simply joyous to be home. Sweatrag in hand and Chinese fan stashed in my bag I breathed in the humidity and sweet green air (though somewhat polluted by the gent two people in front of me) and waited for my turn. It just didn’t really matter because I knew at the end of it was a lovely ocean drive through masses of humanity and crazy drivers that marks every homecoming.
Over two and a half hours but my suitcase was right there and a cart handy nearby and my knee had not given out. Out of the terminal and into the mad crush of travellers seeking their people or transport, taxi drivers hustling fares, offers of just about anything flying furiously, a smile and no thanks sufficed. Once past the main jamb up I stopped and took another deep breath and heard “DK” over the buzz of the crowd. And there they were Doc my little brother sunshine on two feet and my Ivan.
The rest of the evening was lovely and quiet, got settled in the condo across the garden from the last place I stayed. Doc hauled my stuff in storage down from his place; Ivan ran and got us food from Sweet & Spicy, brown chicken and dumplings, rice and peas, fried plantains and carrot & beet juice. Mm mm mm.
The look on Doc’s face when I handed him a stack of over 200 photos (he’d asked for a few for the house after I brought the last ones in April) was freaking priceless. Then I showed him the clips he could use to make a montage and change it up whenever he wanted. I think I’ll have to be sitting down with him and set it up before I go or they will still be sitting in a stack the next time I get back ;) ~ shiny~
Friday morning Doc made a brief visit after dropping Annette at work. He was running to get everything arranged for the food stand he and friend were setting up in the road between Margueritaville and the Dancing Moon for ATI. He had soup to make, Annette’s fried chicken and rice and peas, breadfruit and corn. Nevermind chasing down the charcoal guy who had disappeared to the hills to tend his animals and was late on the charcoal delivery. Always busy,never missing an opportunity to make some J, in a tourism economy you either work on a resort, are lucky enough to secure one of the few jobs in local shops, make your own job or go hungry.
Ivan and I headed downtown, went to the Cambio for Js, bought a new phone cause mine from Jan was toast, a jug for water for the fridge, groceries at another new market and then it was down to the new fishing beach up under the bridge before the roundabout. Ivan picked up some lovely crabs - alive and kicking - to make curried crab for supper and once he had them cooked off he was down to see Breadfruit about the boat for the next few days and I was in the ocean. I spent the rest of the afternoon catching up with the locals and a couple of regulars at Mariners who were in town.
What I didn’t know about Independence week when I hit the beach to meet Ivan at Traveller’s, was that ATI, was the weekend before Independence. This weekend. A combination of Spring Break, Carnival, and Mardi Gras all done up Jamaican style was investing Negril. It used to be held in Ochos Rios, but Ochos was too small so it was moved here. Complete cultural immersion. Karaoke at Travelers with Ivan and a few J&B, then off to Alfred’s on the beach around midnight. Too much tequila and home around 4am.
The entirety of Norman Manley Boulevard, the main seven mile strip, was in a mad state of mini construction as locals built temporary vendor stalls cheek by jowl down the road. But I had no idea what Sat/Sun/Mon would be like, how could I?
Saturday dawned a torrential downpour, clearing as the sun, and then the music began to pervade the resort around noon. We just settled in for a nice quiet day listening to the craziness swirling around us cuddled up talking and watching National Geographic ;) Well, until the people next door to us broke out into open warfare. I hadn’t visited that kind of drama for a long time. The heat, too much liquor and an overabundance of passion melted all the neighbour's filters away. The popo were called in after awhile and it was settled after about 3 hours ... and you do not interfere.
Sunday rose bright and shiny, Ivan was playing a private party at Scrub-a-Dub that afternoon so Doc came and grabbed me to visit Annette between trips to the road stand;) Traffic was already stupid at the roundabout (only 2 lanes), the petrol station a line of ants. Up the road past Shell it started to clear but pedestrians were already packing the roadsides & the little local bars were booming.
Once we turned up the switchback to Doc’s road, I was pleasantly surprised to see that the road crews had actually done some work and filled in a few of the biggest pot holes, especially the place where you had to almost stop the car to navigate the ruttage, and the, lo and behold, for the first time ever, there was no water running down the hill from the water main under constant non-repair to Doc’s place. I was so surprised I had to get him to stop so I could take a picture just for Charlie.
Annette’s garden is growing and blooming like mad. Some of the flowers that only grow 2 feet high in Canada were over 4 feet tall. Doc has the yard lights in but the screen still isn’t up;) Doc started the prep for more soup; I cracked a cold one and settled in for the afternoon. Once Doc was on his way back to town Annette and I sat down and had an afternoon of girltime – I so love her. AND both pairs of shoes fit perfectly and she loved the style of them so it was a win-win with my foot shaped paper cut out ;) We went through the pictures and discussed housing & construction – building vs. buying, what to bring and what I could get here at a decent cost. Sewing and patterns, clothing and recipes, along with some local gossip were chatted over coffee on the doorstep in the sun. Obscured by clouds and warned by sky and the low growl of thunder we headed inside for a cool one and dominoes. Annette is a very good teacher and I managed to actually win a few games using all of the tiles like a real adult(it’s an option as to how many you use). The afternoon lightning show was phenomenal, literally vibrating the house with the thunder but it cooled everything down a bit and the worst was over in an hour. Doc wandered back around 6, and then it was showers, a quick stop at the hotel for a change of clothes, extra smokes and down to Doc’s road stand.
Welcme to CRAZYTOWN.
Bumper to bumper vehicles of every description, loaded with people including their trunks and waybacks with lids and doors open, hanging off the sides of service trucks, riding on top of whatever load was being hauled, standing through sunroofs. Motorbikes snaking in and out of traffic wherever they pleased, going 10 times faster, sometimes with three passengers, than anything else in the road. Music pounding from every direction, the cacophony of street hawkers, and the mouth-watering scents of real food being cooked over open fires up and down the boulevard saturates the senses. Sitting on a cooler in the back of Doc’s food stall I watched the parade wishing for nothing else than my good camera with the telephoto lens ... Everyone was stylin’. All the stereotypes were strolling side by side with those in their Sunday best and some with the only clothes to their name: rastaman, bboy, dancehall, schoolgirl, grandparents, families, and the gamut of singles, sequinned bikini bikinis covered by fishnet shirts or not, with heels or gladiator sandals, little black dresses and a rainbow of colour and ruffles and bling, suits, board shorts of every description, jeans and the inevitable display of men’s drawers ;) Cocktail dresses and daisy dukes (occasionally with front zippers undone to a perfect V), hipster pants & clamdiggers, animal prints, neons, and all the sunbright yellow orange and reds salted with black&white, hats caps and scarves, sarongs, pleather and a hula skirt, skin art and collections of arm bands from the venues. Oh, what a show. Words cannot convey the ferocity of the pleasure seekers, it must be experienced.
3 years ago - I had knee surgery on my left knee. debrided the calcium spur and found the piece that was floating around and causing my leg to go out from under me when it wedged itself under my knee cap. Since the surgery everything has been fine.
This afternoon I walked 15 feet from my cubicle and almost did a face plant when my right knee did exactly the same thing. really.
Now wtf is that about. I haven't done anything to the right knee - it hasn't been jostled or twisted, and I leave for vacation in 7 more sleeps. really.
And since then it goes away and comes back and goes away ... and the last time it hurt enough to make me cry. I waited a long time to get in to see that surgeon. I am on a mission and have things to do which include walking through ocean sand and dancing on the grass and climbing doc and anette's little hill to their house. Never mind getting up going to work, and doing the laundry or taking out the garbage or hauling my ass through Pearson airport to make a connecting flight.
pretty pretty please oh hundred little gods of fucked up knees, just make it better till mid august.
really.
always floating in my backbrain.
a whirlwind of visiting - wings with the peeps, 4 birthdays and a wedding with scrabble on the side followed by some deckadance for the weekend frivolities and next weekend is a nite out of town with friends, 2 birthdays, a steak night , a date with the grands, a pre-vacay pedi with Pixx on sunday and the last f the packing.
Inbetween is pure chaos.
In a crowd, with my friends, at work, with the grands, dancing with the ladies on a madcap fraturday, always the pit trap in my heart will not stay closed.
It doesn't mean that I'm unhappy, or that I don't laugh and enjoy a good joke. It doesn't mean that I don't have a great time with my friends. It doesn't mean that I mope around in silence reading trashy romance novels and scarfing down bon bons (though I have considered it).
It means that without you here to touch and taste and smell I am constantly sidestepping, going around, trying to bridge, a you shaped hole in my foundation with whatever is closest to hand. Inexplicable tears well unwonted and unpredictably, that little catch - hu uh - in my throat stops my breath, and the selfsabotage demon will exploit any means of escape from reality.
Tippitty toeing around the edge is exhausting, but I must be ever so careful because the pit is dark and cold and slimy and almost impossible to escape. Got the Tshirt. It's why I promised myself I wouldn't ever go here again.
Apparently heart connections are not a choice thing.
You either grab the reins and hold on or let them fall and always wonder what might have been.
My dad said what he regrets the most is that he has regrets.
91 days down and 14 sleeps to go.
it's a fucking eternity boo.
The kitchen is finshed ... except for a few small touchups. have to process the pics though, thought I'd done that already ;
Appointment for tub/surround replacement made for September (soonest date available)then install new sink/vanity and flooring.
As for the rest, a little plaster patching and Christopher to paint living room and master, then we will see what we can see.
Managed to get almost all of the kitchen boxes out of storage - still have to clear some stuff there and then my dreaded closet. Out with all the stuff that is too big. done.
And the sewing projects are piling up, can't seem to get it in gear there either.
Maybe it's just summer ...
Form for poem stolen via schmutzie from Fred 1st
I am from the soft black tarmac, grid road gravel, and cement from all across this country of mine, the gypsy without a caravan.
I am from a collection of damp & musty lowheaded dungeons with an occasional airy garret and two bedrooms I never had to share with the nasssty sisters.
I am from the dandy~lions that turn my underchin to butter and all the smellpretty tastegood nonedible blossoms in the Winnipeg Conservatory until I discovered the aromatic beauty of gardenias and the dessert properties of honeysuckle.
I am from New Year's Eve family brawls and laughing in the face of adversity, from the upright white gloved pear-brandy-in-the-corner-cupboard teatotaller Grandma Millie and the sweet nail-you-with-the-bendy-slipper-around-a-corner-at-30-mph Grandma Kay and PigTail Patty, the most generous openhearted and stubborn woman known to man, or me.
I am from self inflicted loneliness and isolation in the middle of the crowd.
From born in the barn and if your friends jumped off a bridge... to where the hell are your shoes donna kathleen odette.
I am the only baptized child, Gramma Millie did it, and the only one smart enough to go to church sundays - any church - to avoid dad's hangovers.Quadruply blessed, Presbyterian, United, Catholic, Lutheran, and now a godless buddhist.
I'm from the stewpot of of the north with dragon boats bastard swords bagpipes fjords and the yew, leavened with the holy potatoe, yorkshire pudding and dumplings with the occasional shot of the most terrible homebrew.
From the the first day of summer freedom at the bottom of the monkey bars wailing the blues with a broken wrist and having to walk 2 miles because Lynn Shadbolt wouldn't double me to Grama's. The key keeper to the vintage transportation cousin Les & I attempted to master because that's the way we roll.
I am from the rock garden/strawberry patch/riverbank/treehouse and concrete jungle camera always in hand, the archivist, framily in my heart wherever I traipse and the pics backed up onto a portable drive. Shaped by a little piece of each of the black & whites posted on the soul wall and glued together with the love and respect gifted to me.
Huge thanks to everyone who's lent a hand or rather knees to my kitchen project - Seven and a half years in the planning and it's brilliant. Custom oak cabinetry up to the 10 ft ceilings. Metal grilled door inserts, china cabinet, several extra feet of counter space, big deep pot drawers, all painted a deep deep red with lots of stainless accents and appliances. The floor has been all retiled as well. So thanks Brian, Fusion Woodworks, Chris and Mikey.
So now I am going to have the tub relined, replace the old 2 faucet wall sink with a more modern 1 faucet model and new lino. After taht - or during, I am doing some plaster work in Living room and Master and then Chris will paint that as well.
So I can sell it in the late spring early summer next year.
Forward ho!
shhhhh! listen. no really, listen.
That insidious drip drop drip sploosh patter patter patter is gone.
well maybe. for now.
I'll take it. I'll glory in it. Revel in it even.
Blue skies sprinkled with fluffy bits of cotton floating by. ahhhhh ;D
Come on temperature, rise to our expectations.
Ra is playing tag with the sunbeams
Here I go.
Time for tremendous life demolbuilding changes.
I have found within myself a new thing or an absence of an old one. space You know that drive that pushes you to get "stuff" to fill up your life with because it is devoid of those things which we all need, like selfawareness, selfknowledge, selfcompassion and love. Well the stuffdrive (you tube George Carlin - stuff)seems to have taken an extended vacation. Over the last few years I have sowly been divesting myself of "stuff", though last year I did venture out on a little clothing binge, which in truth was needed, but not to the extent that I spent resources. And I am in no way shunning materialism nor am I a shining example of non-commercialism, for those things that I enjoy or need. I simply find that there just aren't that many things that I enjoy or need.
For example, I want my favorite perfume, it makes me smile & invites happyness in, so if I find it I will buy it. I enjoy elephants, but I have quite a few, they symbolize some of my favorite people who are gone, they are one of the planet's smartest animals, they are afraid of mice because they don't want to hurt them, they have a language in stomping, they are overcomers of obstacles like Ganesa. I don't need anymore elephants. It used to be if it had an elephant on it, I had to buy it. Not anymore. Same goes with symbols of the buddha. I seem to have internalized much of this and don't need as many reminders to live now.
As for just regular stuff without any symbolic baggage, my perpetual weakness for the shiny has done me in too many times to count. I don't really even want those shiny dishes that are on sale, but they're on sale so I would have bought them before and found them a home later. OH! A of lovely pair of silver earrings, I want them, do I buy them, not anymore, because the shoulder-voice says "and when will you wear them then?" Realization dawns, I likely won't - much. I already have about 6 pairs of earrings in a rotation that I wear and a double handful put away in a box that I do not. So now I do not buy the new shiny ones.
Fake it till you make it works sometimes. Sometimes you have to fake it for a long time till you get there.
Mind you, there have been so many profound changes in my life the past 6 months perhaps I should not be so surprised. I am at the end of another 7 year cycle, also a time of settling matters & starting anew. I have lost a friend a month since January. Death has ceased to frighten or amaze me, it's just a part of the cycle and it makes me sad when it happens to people I love. Lesson: Enjoy the time you are here. Make life better, start with your own, and spread it around, you will be amazed. Share yourself, it's painful and worth it.
And so the clearage has begun.
A mental emotional physical clean sweeping is past due.
I start with who/what do I need? It's a short list. Self respect & confidence. Framily. Laughter. Music. Good food. Enough $$ to be comfortable somewhere warm. My photos and the plethora of art: each a tangible memory, a visual cue of those who gifted me.
After poking around inside my brain the only tender spots are where I made a poor decision, chose not to risk an opportunity, or refused in full knowledge to do the right thing. The toe stubbing rocks of anger and resentment, the stones I used to build my isolationist tower and the bricks that broke my own windows on reality, have become simple grains of sand on the beach. Irritating if they get into the crack of your ass, but gone once you've showered. Now just self evident truths without the need for justification, simply an acceptance of what's done, and another step forward. I must needs remember to sweep the sand aside every once in a while so I no longer get lost in the desert. And have a lot of showers ;)
My heart beats, I love. Always questions but no heart disease.
And then there's the clutter of stuff.
Eyes set on freedom, feet on the path, I do not need an 18 wheeler full of stuff. With the completion of my kitchen comes a sense of relief and an understanding that I actually want to sell my condo. Don't get me wrong. I love my place. It has sheltered me through almost a decade of unimagined growth and provided, unwittingly, the means for my early escape from drudgery.
I have begun to give to my children now, the material goods I was going to will to them at my death. Almost every day I give another thing away, or put one in the keep pile. More away than keep is the rule. Once the kids have all they want from what I wish to part with, I'll start with the framily. I need clear space so I will make some;)
I do find myself picking up this and that for the "need for the move" pile, and I am happy to say that it is under control. mostly.
It will take about a year I figure to get through it all, but when I'm done, I'll be ready.
I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry ...
nope. not workin'.
Sometimes I miss that old ability to self delude.
Between my recent reading and my experience I have come to a crossroads where I have breeched one of the core tenets of my existence and left myself dangling in the breeze at the very very end of a knotless rope. Details are not important at this point. Hah! Nor will they be forthcoming in such a public forum.
However, the cycle of blame and shame is apparently endless when you are the target of both. A limitless spiral into the dark from which one may never rise. If it were someone else I am SURE I would have some pithy phrases or past faux pas to relate. It is purely my own garbage that is burying me.
Why can I find no compassion for myself? No forgiveness of being human and flawed?
Hmmmmm sounds a little Martyr-ish.
Perhaps I will just have to apologize to myself everytime it floats through my brain until I actually believe it.
since I've been here. and what a whirlwind it has been. Highlights:
~ started writing old school paper journal
~ my kitchen cupboards are fabulous and the fon-in-law has painted, now just the floor to go. MUST find Leonard.
~ a great Moose Jaw visit with my dad and the boyo
~ several birthday parties including the both the grandkids and a wedding
~ hot tub party at the growley's
~ Anarchy has returned to the flatlands and they are having a BABY!!!!!!!
~ Seth is playing baseball - go Brewers!
~ my best friend from kindergarten found me on crackbook - happy dance Cora Lynne (1 st day of school together, brownies, swimming, church, hallowe'en, we got caught playing doctor with the boys behind her garage in grade 2 Chris, Mike and Doug)
~ missing my Ivan like crazytown.
~ roadtrip to cowtown with KD & the Growley's closely followed by the karaoke crew to visit BGirl and see the Mios in action once again.
~ IKEA
~ continued clean sweeping
~ my longest held friend besides Cora Lynne passed away from cancer before her time and without ever having set foot on the island she so longed to visit. Heart hurts.
~ giving my children the stuff I was going to give them when I die, NOW. Why carry it around, or ship it when I move. Enjoy kids. I am spending their inheritance otherwise ;)
~ found out I liked vegetarian lasagna
~ is very thankful for the fluffy new pillow Deb gave me
~ is counting counting the days
~ got 4 new pair of RayBans care of my secret connection: red/white/black/lace and then she gifted me with this mango fruity diffuser scent that smells like the island
~ realized after being asked what I want for my 50th bday in October - that it's a very short list. Indecence perfume by Givenchy, gift cards to Ikea, Chapters or the Tire, and 2 gold bands for my thumbs. Oh yeah! A winning lottery ticket.
~ getting quotes on new brakes for the car
~ searching out international shippers and may or may not be brought into the country
~ my sister had a house fire - a short in the aquarium light results in $1500 in smoke damage and a hundred grand worth of damage by the firedepartment.
~ did I tell you my cupboards were magnificent?
~ has realized since reading eat pray love that she has a far better relationship with the divine than she knew,and has become much better at balancing her chi
~ got a noise violation notice care of some crabby neighbour who complained that 5 of us on the deck talking - with NO MUSIC - violated the noise bylaw (after 11)really. REALLY! It was Friday nite and as soon as she asked we went inside. Who know?
~ has almost caught up at work
~ is repotting the indoor garden
~ has regained her ghosties that have taken a 5 year hiatus
~ made plans to repaint the living room and the master bedroom
~ is doing a little stretching a little yoga a little more walking
~ getting ready for Mosaic
~ has SKD's bd party tonight, baseball tomorrow am, planting pansies at pj's round noon, wine over for the boys tomorrow afternoon, and hopefully the Indian and Jamaican pavillions at Mosaic Sat night.
Whew ... catch you later gator
The vacation was excellent, the condo exactly what I needed and the company simply the best.
Running like the White rabbit crossed with the mad hatter, the White hatter, mad rabbit, or the crazy albino bunny - not sure which.
The cabinets were installed in my kitchen yesterday. The work continues and my brother in law Brian is brilliant!
Oh, and the OHans deck is up!
... and why would I choose to associate myself with a term that most used used in a derogatory manner?
In order to change the meaning of a word or create a new meaning for a word, one must own the word. Over time and use the word may evolve to mean other than was originally intended & to that end...
my definition: an independent woman
dictionary definitions:
1. informal term for a (young) woman
2. an unsupervised umarried woman
3. a young woman or girl, esp. a peasant girl.(usually facetious)
3. a woman servant
4. a wanton woman
5. Archaic: a strumpet
[Origin: 1250–1300; ME, back formation from wenchel, OE wencel child]
synonom :"dame"
acronym:
Women Entitled to Nothing but Complete Happiness
International Wenches Guild
