​You all know I am the first to admit that I am weak in my competency with anything technical, basically a computer. I am old. I didn’t not learn this stuff when I was a kid and I only started working with computers while I was in education. If is messed something up I called the computer lab and a ninth grader was sent to my office to fix everything.

I don’t have a ninth grader available anymore. The local high school frowns on me bringing in my lab top or desk top into the school and whining for a teenager.

BUT…I have found Zoom. Now I can’t set a zoom meeting up, but I can attend one. I have a lap top that allows me to see, hear, and speak in a Zoom meeting. What a joy.

I am on the Board of Directors of four groups. Yes, I am proficient in stupidity and the inability to say no. You can be proud of me, I got off the fifth Board of Directors!!! I am proud of myself on that one.

Today I had a BOD meeting with seven women who are part of the National League of American Pen Women. Look it up if you can. Founded in 1897, it is the oldest professional organization for creative women in America. It was started because men in the newspaper and publishing fields thought women were inept. You need to see the history of this institution. It will make you proud of your history and the growth that women have gained in more than 128 years. Yes, we still need to educate men, but “you’ve come a long way, Baby.” (Please tell me you remember that line.)

But I digress, which is something I do very well. This morning the seven of us met on Zoom and had a full board meeting with elections for upcoming awards for women in the creative fields.

There we were. Seven women of varying ages. And none of us in make-up. Not a mascara wand in sight. We appeared to be clean and dressed—at least from the waist up.

It was really delightful to talk about our “in the rough and ready” stage. Without all the goo we still recognized each other. We complimented each other on how well and fresh we looked. And you know what, none of us cared that we were bare-faced. Without the cosmetics we could still take on the world. In our minds, we would win, too.

We are a fearsome lot. All of us in a creative field. I was once a visual artist, focused on print making, drawing, and sculpture. I have moved into writing in the more recent years. Other members are in the visual arts range, but we have also musicians and dancers, actors, poets, some writers, singers, you name it. We’ve got at least one in every category. 

There are many Pen Women organizations across the USA. If you are interested, check out your state through the web site. If there isn’t one in your area, contact the national office and perhaps we can help you get one started. With the creation of Zoom we can now have Members-at- Large who cannot attend an in person meeting, but can be there in through the amazement of technology.

With or without makeup.
 
Just a little information:
National League of American Pen Women, Inc.

Pen Women are professional writers, journalists, painters, sculptors, dancers, musicians, choreographers, art teachers, theater and film directors — and many others from all creative fields. We have more than 1,600 members across the United States, both at large and in more than 80 branches.
 
One of the earliest members of the organization was sculptress Vinnie Ream

In an era when women artists were not considered important, she, nevertheless, won the Congressional commission in 1866 at age 18 to carve the marble statue of Abraham Lincoln that stands in the rotunda of the U.S. Capitol. She made a bust of Lincoln, working with him in the White House before his assassination, and used it as the basis for the statue after his death.

The first meeting of The League of American Pen Women was organized by Marian Longfellow O’Donoghue (yes, Henry’s niece), who wrote for newspapers in Washington, D.C. She invited fellow journalists Margaret Sullivan Burke and Anna Sanborn Hamilton to join her in establishing a “progressive press union” for the female writers of Washington.
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Other famous women who have been members of the organization include Grandma Moses, Georgia O’Keeffe, Pearl S. Buck, Eleanor Roosevelt, Maya Angelou, Rosalyn Carter, and Hillary Clinton, to name a few.

Having said the above, I am more than happy to be part of this remarkable women’s group, as I consider myself part of the “bridge generation,” bridging good old-fashioned in-person writing and meetings with today’s Zoom technology that makes all of us ladies look beautiful in our natural beauty!

I know I told you in September I was going to do better about getting my monthly newsletters out. I lied.  I had the best intentions, but life decided there were other I needed to do. One of which is to work on my memory.
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Here is a little short one on Gracie, our smallest and youngest cat. If you ever come to the house you will never see her. Eleni Jordan from Parkview found her drinking from oily water in a car repair parking lot.  Gracie has been skittish all her life. She is mostly black with a little white on her face, chest and paws.  We call her the baby since she is only 12 years old. The others are 13.

Mystic has developed arthritis and diabetes. She has to get shot up twice a day.  She is doing pretty well with the diabetes, but the arthritis is in her hips and back legs. 

Figaro is still queen on the house.  She still gets her eyebrows rubbed every morning with her mini-moo.  I still sing "Moo River"  to her. 

Yes, I know.  I admit to being a little off center--like 179 degrees off center.

Here is Gracie's little story.
The Ghost Cat

​It was time for Gracie to visit the vet. She wasn't sick. I hadn't had her to the vet in 3 years. Since I had to take Mystic, the diabetic princess, and Figaro, the ornery queen of the house, I decided I'd let them check her over.

She decided they would not check her over!
Gracie was not told she was going to the vet. The words “vet” and “doctor” were not even spoken in the house. The carrier wasn’t brought in so she wouldn’t be forewarned.

We searched the house over.

There was no hiding place left unturned. We combed the upstairs, the downstairs, and found every dust bunny which had been hiding from us. But no Gracie.

We crawled on the floor, lifted bedspreads, and checked every chair in the house. No Gracie.

Special treats were brought out and placed in her favorite spots. Mystic came and ate, but no Gracie.

Catnip was sprayed in her box under the desk where she loves to lay. No Gracie.

After thirty minutes of searching and not finding this little six pound cat, I gave up. 

As soon as I called the vet and canceled our appointment she came out of hiding.

The receptionist asked if I wanted to reschedule. So I made another appointment.

Appointment two came along. Gracie was laying at my feet. Normally if I would stand she would remain sleeping in her box under the desk. Normally.

I stood up. I looked down. NO cat. Just a whiff of black fluff floating in the air. 

I searched the house for twenty minutes. I knew I didn’t have time to make the appointment so I called the veterinarian’s office to cancel and reschedule the visit.

I hung up the phone and turned around. There she sat, looking sweetly at me. I knew she was thinking “Gotcha again. No travel in my plans, Mama.”

This morning was the third appointment I had made for Gracie. She came into the bathroom and wanted to have the water faucet turned on so she could drink. I did that. 

She wanted to be combed. I did that.

I fed her. She wanted to rub against my legs.

At 9:45 am she was laying under the desk. At 9:46 she was gone. No one moved. No one breathed the word “vet.” She just vanished.

The Vet’s receptionist didn’t even ask if I wanted to reschedule. I guess the third time was it.

Gracie the Ghost Cat.