An open letter to all the folks who won't interview me...

Dear Sillyheads,
I have been led to believe that one of the reasons you will not honor me with an interview is because I am over fifty. Not much over fifty, but still over fifty. As if the fifty is a line you refuse to cross.

Oh, I know it's ILLEGAL to discriminate on the basis of age, but I'm no dummy. You use terms like "up-to-date-technology" and "energized workforce" but I know EXACTLY what you mean. You mean you think I'm too old to work for you.

Let me tell you something, Bukkoes--I have a hell of a lot more to offer you than someone in her twenties, thirties and forties. Not that you're going to let me prove it or anything, but here's the lowdown:

1. I have more energy to dedicate to my work than someone younger. I know! Hard to believe, isn't it? The old broad can focus more energy on work! Why? Because she isn't focusing her energy on her kids! My kids are grown! They don't need me to read to them, or help them with homework, or chauffer them to the myriad activities. I'm not staying up at night, waiting for them to come home from whatever-the-hell teenagers come home from. Nope! I can put that "kid energy" into my job.

2. I will be honest when I need to be, but will be gentle in that delivery. I won't ignore or gloss over a problem (unlike the terminally vapid Katie Holmes on the finale of "So You Think You Can Dance), but I'm not gonna verbally kick you in the balls, either. If there's a problem, I'll let you know. And I'll also offer ways to fix it. Because that's what mature women do--it's in our nature to help fix problems.

3. I will not have to take maternity leave.

4. Or move to be with a man.

5. If it's EXPERIENCE you want, then who better than a fifty-year-old woman? We have experience. A whole lot of it. I've driven home just in front of a tornado and not pi$$ed my pants, so you know I can handle an irate co-worker. I've spent the holidays on a broken foot with two kids under 12, so you know I can work through minor inconveniences. I got my Masters degree while working full time, raising those same two kids under the age of 12 AND taking care of a household with little help from my spouse so you know I can organize. Throw it at me. I'll handle it.

In reality, I think you are chicken$hit. I think if all women over the age of fifty got together, we could take over this entire country. And we would not play your silly games. You would have no other choice than to straighten up and fly right.

The fact that you are afraid lets me know that I am right.
Your loss.
I'll take my wonderful self elsewhere.
Sayonara,
Kirby

House of Fifty

In my subscription feed today--which pops up in my Blogger dashboard--I saw a cool title called "House of Fifty." Here's a link, if you're interested:


http://isabellaandmaxrooms.blogspot.com/2011/01/announcing-exciting-new-venture-house.html

And I thought to myself: What a great idea! A place for fifty year olds to get together!

So I clicked, and found that while Isabella & Max has a great thing going in the home decor field, it's not a spot for the old broads to hang and knock back a few. Which is kinda what I was looking for.
I don't know if other 50 year old women feel the way I do, but I feel as though once I got to be "of a certain age," I became less audible and less visible. Not to say "unheard" or "invisible," but just less. (I didn't LOOK less--in fact, there was more of me, to a degree.) Rather, less noticeable, less important, less of myself. So many of us have spent the last twenty-plus years being someone's wife, or mom, or both, that we have no idea who we were before all of that. What better way to reconnect with ourselves than by having the support of others who are in the same situation?

Sure, there are websites promoting middle-aged women, and mid-life bloggers abound. But the primary focus is on "Mommy Bloggers" and not the moms who are "post-mommy." My question is: If there are so many of us, and we're all kind of in the same boat, why aren't we connecting?
This blog is on a quest--I hope you want to come along.

My Own Private Idaho. Not Really. I've Never Been to Idaho. So I Guess This is My Own Private Carolina.

I have been in my current home for several years, bringing it back to life as it were, from some silly and inappropriate updates. (This can also be called "a serious affinity for green carpeting and ugly wallpaper.")


One of the most compelling things about this house (besides the inherent character of the Dutch doors, wide plank flooring, and various nooks and crannies), is that it was built by two artists.



The artists who built my house were Joe Wallace King (who painted mostly portraits under the name Vinciata) and Earline Heath King, who became a highly-acclaimed sculptor. This couple had been high school sweethearts, both interested in art and music, living and learning in Europe, DC and New York...then moving back to the neighborhood where they met, and built the house I now own. There's a marble fireplace, crystal chandeliers, a slate roof, a garden house, and a walled garden...magazine-worthy potential. But the most important thing to me? The fact that the original owner, Earline Heath King, didn't start her career until she was fifty.



For the past few years, fifty has been like a benchmark for me. "When I'm fifty" has been a mantra...and a way to procrastinate. But learning that the remarkable artist who designed this house didn't begin her career until she was fifty seemed to be an omen. I could procrastinate no longer; I needed to become the person I always believed I could be.
In part, that meant a "trip backward." I was interested in getting back to my roots, so to speak, and revisit the person I was before I had to give myself up in order to take care of other folks. (I don't regret this--it was my job to raise those little people.) Some of these roots came in the form of English Ivy that I spent months yanking out, uncovering hydrangea in the process.

And that, my friends, is what I like to call a "sweet-a$$ metaphor."