Sunday, March 9, 2025

The Adventures of Peri-Menopausal Cinderella

Happy almost Spring, everyone! We made it, or damn near there. I'm sure we'll have a few random snowstorms here in Chicago until May, but it won't stay around long as the worst weather is in the rear view. Well done, everyone.

Some of you remember that for several years, I have been desperately trying to scam an online dating scammer, as it is my duty.  Not all heroes wear capes, after all.

I'll back up for the uninitiated. Approximately 30% of the profiles on apps like Bumble or Tinder are fake. Here's how it works: One dude, probably in Nigeria, China, or Romania, runs multiple profiles and maintains numerous conversations with women until he hooks an idiot and convinces them to part with their money, typically by sending gift cards of some kind or another. 

Here are two examples of scammers that I have failed to ensnare, both times because of my peri-menopausal rage kicked in prematurely before the bait was set.



This makes me furious, as the victims are merely women--and men--who are just trying to find a connection, which is why I typically lose my cool before setting my own hook.

I've had some promising starts but have never made it too far. My method is I swipe on all the obvious scammers and then just wait. Sadly, I think I'm in a particularly vulnerable age group. Older women are easily flattered by attention from younger guys..I get it. Not my first rodeo with younger guys, as I'm sure you all remember from this blog. 

Below is a sampling of some of the real guys who hit my dating app feeds. I know. I'm so lucky to still be out there with so many promising candidates. Adam, for example is 99 and just wants to suck toes. 


The Invisible Years

Here's another fun fact: women my age are absolutely invisible to a significant portion of the male population. I've lived in a gayborhood for the last decade so being invisible to the opposite sex is something I've grown quite accustomed to. Perhaps too much since I don't even glance into a mirror before going anywhere in my hood. 

I won't lie; there are times when this cloak of invisibility has its advantages. Like when you're trying to smuggle illegal items...like a granola bar 😉, into a music fest. No problem! Security people assume we "invisible" women are incapable of such crimes!

But more often than not, it's just a big bowl of bummer. I'll admit it; back in the day, I used to be a "head turner." I don't mean to imply I'm beautiful; I'm not, but I'm cute and approachable enough that men would look at me. Don't get me wrong; I'm probably still a hottie to some demographics; I would slay in a senior living community, but I digress...

Back to the story...

One day I matched with an insanely attractive man on one of the dating apps. He fit the classic scammer profile: very handsome, good photos, exotic travel, check, check, check. He was 6'4", which is NOT my thing, but height appears to be most women's kryptonite, so more likely to be a fake account. He was possibly also a little outside my normal dating age range, but it didn't matter. There is no chance this is a real man. 

Anyway, we started messaging on the app back and forth. I'm being patient, polite and on alert for the typical first questions from scammers. No huge red flags but I was certainly ready for them when they started flying.

We messaged a few times and then a few months later, he sent a message that he was going to be in Chicago. Ok, so the one thing that a true scammer will NEVER do is ask to meet in real life. 

Ok, so now I was confused. If he's not a scammer, what is going on? Ah, I got it! He's a crypto bro! That's it! He had mentioned being a crypto investor in a previous message. Cryptocurrency is all the rage and Shitler is all in so that's driving values up. He's going to try and sell me Bitcoin. 

I went back and forth on whether I should go, but ultimately decided that the worst thing that could happen is I spend an evening pretending to listen to a handsome man talk about BitCoin. Or he looks nothing like his pictures and is in reality a 60-year-old unemployed plumber living in his mom's basement. Or he's a serial killer. 

Either way, I felt like it could also be a hilarious blog so I went (you're welcome, readers!). We made plans to meet late afternoon at a small bar. 

Before leaving, I showed my daughter his picture and said, "I'm meeting this guy and he's either going to catfish me, try to sell me BitCoin or kill me. If I don't come back, this is him. Or not." 

I arrive at the bar and there he was! I am stunned to see he is as cute in person as he was in his profile pictures. He is all of 6'4" and he's real. 

We ordered drinks and talked about various things, no huge red flags flying. After a half hour, I could no longer take the suspense. I shot-gunned a beer to calm my nerves and blurted out, "What are we doing here? Seriously? Are you going to try and pitch me Bitcoin?" 

His expression indicated he was bewildered by the inquisition. He finally said, "Well, I actually prefer older women and I think you are really attractive and possibly selling yourself a bit short." 

Assuming that was not a short joke, I was shocked. I honestly never actually considered that option. We had a great time, went to a couple of bars, ate dinner, another bar, drank way too much, and made out in dark street corners and bars. I'm not going to lie. It was exhilarating. I felt sexy and desirable.


Then I got tired. 

We had met up at 5 and I now 5+ hours later, I was losing steam. I took a glance at my watch and it was 10:45, and the multiple drinks were having a sedative effect. 

So while he was in the bathroom, I called my Uber. He looked puzzled when I announced I was leaving. I'm pretty sure he didn't see that coming. People his age stay up late, and guys who look like that don't get bailed on by women before 11pm, especially after vibing for the last few hours. 

Cinderella had to be home by midnight or her carriage would turn into a pumpkin.

ChatGPT's version of a Perimenopausal Cinderella

Peri-Menopausal Cinderella's self-imposed curfew is 11PM, as sleep is now her love language. Her carriage is an Uber, and her prince Charming was two decades younger...and possibly a Republican (though I didn't inquire enough to kill the buzz). And, sadly, getting in bed alone with her dogs sounded pretty enticing. 

I got into the Uber and started laughing uncontrollably. I'm sure the driver thought I was insane. I arrived to find Laura waiting at the door, having been GPS tracking my ass all night. Apparently every change of venue caused her to think I was being abducted.

She made me agree to stay on the north side of 40 in the dating world, and as she was walking away, I said, "He's way too tall anyway," to which she flipped me the bird without turning around. 

End of story. Well, until last week, when I was in Houston for a week for work. My "friend" lives there and we went out one night and had a great time...and I almost made it to midnight! 😉 

Wow, that got long but thanks for reading!

Happy Almost Spring, everyone.

Until next time,

Barb

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Saturday, February 8, 2025

St. Lucia’s Beauty vs. My Stomach: A Battle for the Ages

Holy shit! It's already February! As predicted in my last blog, the end of the year literally blew by and now we're already underway in 2025. Not sure why that part of the year always feels accelerated, then we get to January and it seems like that month had a full six weeks, but blessedly, February is short. 

Some of you are aware I spent a good part of January in St. Lucia, working and playing so no one is feeling particularly bad for me. I certainly get that. It was a beautiful respite from sub-zero weather in Chicago, for sure, and I highly recommend it as a temporary cure for any type of Seasonal sadness.



I had planned this trip months ago, and when I told a friend who is a frequent traveler we were going there, she visibly winced. What? I do plenty of research (it's half the fun) before embarking on a new destination, so I was very confused about her response.

She went on to say while the island itself is breathtaking, the drive from the airport to where most stay on the island is brutal. Now, I have traveled extensively, and have encountered bad roads, potholes, wandering livestock, you name it! 

Just ask my two girlfriends who came to Costa Rica with me a few years ago where we literally had to cross a river in our rental car to get where we were going. It's the shortcut we discovered from previous trips, called the Monkey Trail. It saves a good half hour and is certainly more interesting than the main road.

 That's me in the red Audi crossing a river while my friend stupidly follows me. 



Bottom line: I don't scare easily. And, let's face it: part of the adventures of travel is overcoming the unexpected. And, while I do suffer from motion sickness, it wouldn't prevent me from traveling somewhere. After all, there are plenty of medicines you can take to overcome that.

Let's go!

So armed with a patch (but a holistic, useless one), we landed in St. Lucia and I took my Dramamine and was ready to go. 

It always feels so amazing landing in the Caribbean during the winter. Your skin craves the warm, humid sea air as you inhale all the interesting island smells. Certainly beats Chicago in the winter.

We got in our taxi, a small minivan, and got underway. The driver asked if we wanted AC or to have the windows down, and still high on the vacation happiness, I stupidly said, "Windows down!" 

Everything went well for a bit. It smells so different in the islands; an odd mix of sea air and burning trash. Below is the stunning view from the rather mountainous ascent from the airport.



About a half hour in, I started feeling unwell. Pretty quickly, I stopped talking. I could feel the inevitable clamminess descending upon me. 

My daughter Laura is a true introvert with a well-established resting bitch face so in this situation, I am the designated "small talker" and I love it.  I have said before I could engage a wall or other inanimate objects in a conversation if needed.  I'm naturally curious about everything so I really shine in these scenarios, but not this time as I was solely focused on watching the road and staving off my impending nausea. 

Laura very uncomfortably tried to make up for my now-mute status by attempting to make small talk with the driver, but it's really not her strong suit. The silence was fine, I was in full focus-mode.

After what seemed like hours with my eyes intently glued to the road--all while Laura played Suduko on her phone--our driver asked if we wanted to stop for sandwiches. I honestly could think of nothing worse, but as this would require the minivan to stop, and me getting out, I quickly said yes.

We got out and walked over to a little roadside shack with a stone-carved oven, which in any other circumstances, I would have found charming. They were cranking out little loaves of hot, fresh bread, filled with various things. I asked the owner what the fillings were, but struggled to understand her response so weakly just held up two fingers after Laura ordered hers. 

Laura did confirm later that she was concerned after seeing me. I always get a spray tan before going to the Caribbean and am terrible about putting the stupid lunch-lady hairnet on correctly, so she always points out that I have a ring of pale white around my hairline post-spray tan. She said there were little beads of sweat along that line and my pallor was oddly pale, despite the spray tan. Things did not appear to be going well. 

"What did you order?" I rather fearfully asked. "Salami," she responded. I had to fight the urge to run into traffic to prevent having to return to the minivan, now filled with new scents of sweaty roadside salami and those odd outside scents that were suddenly turning my stomach. 

I didn't say much after that, other than to warn my daughter that if she even thought for one second about opening that sandwich in the car, it would be a big mistake. 

I made it for another 15 minutes before asking our driver to pull over while I parted with the remnants of the egg sandwich I had enjoyed many hours prior as well as all the other contents of my stomach, while our driver stood by with a box of handi-wipes and other minivans filled with other tourists sped by, beeping their horns. 

I returned to the car, requested the AC be put on, and asked if we were getting close. The response was no. With an empty stomach, however, I felt confident things would improve. Alas, I was wrong. At one point, we were climbing up a very steep hill, and once again, I felt the urge and requested he pull over. Unfortunately, there was literally just a cliff so he could not. I had to open the window, thrust my upper body out of the window, and vomit all over the side of the minivan. 

I'm not sure exactly how I survived that drive. We had to stop at the grocery to stock up for the week on the way in and I barely even remember that. 

I do recall telling Laura that I was not going to spend the next two weeks thinking about reliving that nightmare. So the very next day, I booked us on a helicopter to take us back to the airport, a 15-minute scenic flight versus another two hours of either vomit-fueled or Drammine-overdosed hell. As cheap as I am, I didn't even blink at paying $200 to fly then drive back to that airport. Best money I've ever spent!


I'm happy to report that the rest of our trip was lovely and largely uneventful. We got to know the taxi drivers quite well during our time in St. Lucia and they all would ask, "When will you come back?' to which I responded:

"Just as soon as you straighten out that damn road from the airport." 

Happy New Year

This blog got long so I won't keep you, but I hope everyone is surviving what looks like a long four years ahead. I won't even broach the topic of politics because it makes me cranky and mad.  At this age, I'm pretty much in that rage state at all times anyway, thanks to perimenopause, but I'll try and stay focused on the positive. It won't be easy, but I will commit to trying.

I will promise to write more blogs this year. I got a little lazy last year, but I'm committing to being better about it this year. How's that for a New Year's resolution? 

Until next time, my friends.








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Saturday, October 26, 2024

Evolving into a Hipper Barb After Closet Cleanout

It's been mentioned several times recently that it's been a minute since my last blog post. It's true and I have little excuse for that other than the fact that it's been an incredibly beautiful summer here in Chicago. 

While fires were burning and temps sweltering in other parts of the country, Chicago was blessed with an incredible summer. I'm sure we will pay the price in January, but summer is our time to shine and I contend no city matches Chicago in summer.



"But it's October, Barb."

Yes, I am aware but the weather is still great so I am taking advantage of it until I can't. In addition, as I have said it before: blogging is something I do for enjoyment so if there is fun to be had elsewhere outside, it's probably not happening. I also have the maturity level of a 20 something so making myself do anything I don't want to do is...well problematic. 

But I'm back! 

New Season, New Style

When I moved to Chicago, I was so overwhelmed with the logistics of it all that I never took the time to properly go through my clothes so everything was boxed up and brought.  Sure, it would have been an ideal time to shed some never-worn items, but see above 👆about making myself do things that are not fun...It could wait.

So, nine years later, I decided it was time to do something about it. I decided to hire a stylist to come and assist me in going through my closet and purging any items that are outdated, worn or no longer fit.  I needed someone, besides my daughter, to shoot it straight and provide a much-needed reality check on my wardrobe.


Above is the outfit I picked out to wear to my 40th class reunion.

I researched a few, found one who was pretty close, relatively affordable, so I reached out via email. 

I have described my wardrobe as "schlubby chic" and I think that still holds true. I haven't worked in an office since the late 90s so my professional attire is sadly lacking. My typical work outfit is sweats and a hoodie, but as a grown-up, I was realizing that I possibly needed a style update.

I wear a lot of casual leisurewear and I own more hoodies than most teenaged boys. Pulling my sweats out in the fall is one of my favorite seasonal rituals. So comfortable, warm, inviting and never judgemental about weight loss. They are the All Stars of my wardrobe, if I'm being honest. 

At dinner that night, I told Laura about the plan. She is typically my in-house fashion consultant so she is more aware that I needed help. She has been telling me for years that I needed to pare down.

A week later, I finally got back to the stylist, Lora, to schedule a day for her to come and dive in. As she was looking at her calendar, she said, "Do you have a daughter named Laura?" I told her I did, but was super confused as to why she was asking.

Yep, you guessed it. Laura indeed thought it was an excellent idea, such a good one, in fact, that she decided to do the same and independently found the same stylist! Small world.

Initially I was annoyed; she totally had snuck in and stole my thunder. Then as the days went on, Laura started dropping little hints like "Lora (the stylist) doesn't like flannels.." What??? An internal panic set in.

I also saw the 12 bags of clothes that the stylist had already ousted from Laura's closet so knew this woman was going to mean business.

Hmmm, so Lora doesn't like flannels, what else might she dislike? I'm guessing she probably is also not a fan of concert tees, the second most common and beloved clothing items in my closet. Considering I want to be buried with those, I had to make sure she was never going to get her hands on those! 

Must hide all concert tees. Check. ✅

Then I started thinking of my favorite hoodies. My favorite is from Purgatory Mountain, the ski area we grew up skiing in Colorado. It's faded, logo is barely visible, and it's decades-old. It's pretty awful looking and also my absolute fav. I knew enough of this stylist to realize it was not safe. 

Favorite hoodies also safely hidden. Check. ✅

The mental wheels came off the bus with this shocker: Laura casually mentioned one day that the stylist told her that scarves were out of fashion, I literally gasped. What? How do mature women hide our sagging "turkey" necks without proper scarfing? 

I recently had the great fortune of spending time with my girlfriends at my 40th high school reunion in St. Louis. I shared this rather disturbing fashion news about scarves with them during a lunch date, and they all collectively gasped with their hands instinctively covering their necks. WHAT???? 

So, you can see where this is going...Scarves now also safely stowed away. ✅ 

Did I question the logic of hiding my clothes from the woman I was paying to advise me on fashion? Sure, I did. But, my love of these items exceeded any logic on the matter.

Then Laura would say things like, "she's probably going to hurt your feelings."

So, now with full-blown anxiety and clothes safely stashed throughout my house, the stylist arrived. I put on my nicest sweatpants and hoodie, which she deemed acceptable, calling it "casual, but elevated casual." 

I heard that a lot. She was kind though and let me keep a few things, most of which she described this way: "I don't hate this." Cool. That meant, it could stay.

I can work with that. 

Lora immediately tackled my closet, then after a couple of hours, she came in and asked where my dresses were. I froze. Oh no, I had not vetted that closet! It was too late though. That was where she discovered my secondary stash of shoes too.

I'm sure you all want to know what I learned as a result of this rather humbling experience. Well, for one, I learned that I am apparently I am a shoe hoarder. I had no idea. I guess the first step in recovery is admitting you have a problem. 

There were signs. 

I have a lovely Guatemalan housekeeper who barely speaks English although she has saved nearly every houseplant I own. She discovered my second closet with my hidden shoe stash a few years ago and came in with two pairs in her hands, shaking her head and saying, "Dis...is no good, Bar-barrr-a." Enough said. 


What's particularly hilarious is that now that I walk everywhere, I wear the same 3-4 pairs of shoes every day. Tragically, a few of the pairs that I wear daily were at the bottom of that pile! I told her that she would have to pry my All Birds out of my cold dead hands before I would ever part with them. I think she caught my vibe. There were a few other pairs I fought for, but overall, it does feel great to have less. 

Less shoes, less clothes in general. My closet is now incredibly organized and I get dressed in a snap because I have so few options now! 


The next step is Lora comes back and will help me create outfits with what's left of my wardrobe. I will keep you all posted as I evolve into a much more sophisticated, hip Barb. 

Good grief, this got long so perhaps I will wrap this up!

I hope this blog finds you all happy and well. I hope you all enjoying the "Tripartite" (Halloween/Thanksgiving/Christmas) season. We all know you blink this time of year and it's the holidays so let me be the first to say Happy Holidays! 

Avoid malls and Home Goods.  Shop online. You heard it here first.

Be well and until next time,

Barb


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Sunday, July 7, 2024

Pumping the Breaks on Serial Dating: Why Less is More

Greetings, everyone. It's been a minute so thought I would sit down and write a blog. When the weather is nice and I can be outside, writing a blog is never a priority, however, today it is super soupy out so...

It's been a long time since I provided any type of update on my love life, although spoiler alert: not a whole lot going on, but intentionally. I'm currently matched with dozens of guys on the various apps but actually communicating with them seems bothersome and too much work. After serial dating for the past 8 years and probably 500+ dates, I can say I seem to have lost a bit of my enthusiasm for it. I typically date anywhere from 3-5 guys at a time and it's never been an issue. Fun for the most part. But lately, meh.

To be honest, as my interest in sex has waned since boarding the perimenopausal bus, so has my tolerance for the constant tomfoolery and antics of many of these men. It takes a huge amount of effort and patience to date via the various apps. Constantly weeding through the 60yo+ wannabe playboys who just want "intimacy without commitment" and list "sex positivity" as one of the attributes they would like to highlight. Thanks, bro, you and every other Tom, Dick and Harry on my dating feed. Thanks, Bumble. 


This is a whole new ballgame for me as I've been somewhat boy crazy my entire life. It's what primarily got me through high school. I've had boyfriends my entire life. In the 3rd grade, I had two boyfriends. I guess at some point, I demanded jewelry and the next day, they both showed up with rings. One was his sister's mood ring and the other swiped from his mom, both of which I had to return. And, so it began. 

I like men; I can't lie about that, but while I once looked forward to playing the whole online dating game, and the daily rituals of it, now I launch the various apps with equal doses of dread and pessimism. Anyone women around my age still dating understands what I am talking about. Wait, no. I'll go one step farther and say any woman of any age who is dating online understands this feeling; trying to balance optimism with dread. 

I open my dating apps now with a partial snarl and stink eye as a peruse my sad feed of options. Chock-full of men in their 50s seeking "short-term fun" and even funnier, the ones over 50-year-olds who are "undecided" on having kids. Dude, surely that ship has sailed! I call them the "Peter Pans." Or even worse, men who are 60+ with small kids. Wow, you clearly took a wrong turn in life! Thanks, but no thanks. I'll await grandkids.

The Peter Pans and the scammers are in full force these days on the dating apps. I read somewhere that nearly 30% of dating profiles are indeed fake. I will admit, I have wanted to ensnare one of these twatwaffles, as I mentioned in this blog. However, my tolerance and patience are so low at this point, I often scare them off quickly with my toxic attitude and snarky comments.  

Below is one example. Meet Theodoric. Cute, right? Sadly, that's one clue. Another clue? Well, they are always looking for real long-term relationships and describe themselves as "loyal" and "honest" when they are everything but that. And, often they list their education as "in grad school," which I loath almost as much as the "school of hard knocks." Most importantly, all their images are professionally taken and in exotic locations and never with anyone else. 


Here's another one. Meet Baldwin. Always odd names. My guess is the scammers are foreign and have no idea what normal names are in the U.S. so they just pick random names.


As you can see my tolerance is about as low as it can get. I have tried to stay patient and await whatever scam is to play out, but then I get so angry thinking about all the dumbasses who actually fall for this shit, and it makes me what to go full vigilante on them. Sadly, I've never had the patience to get too far. I've tried luring them in once they mention their interest in Bitcoin, but alas my evil ulterior motive typically unveils itself pretty quickly. 

The girls...where the fun always is

To be honest, I am preferring the company of my female friends these days. No, I'm not changing teams despite almost a decade of living in a gayborhood. I'm afraid I'm hard-wired for men, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy spending time with my girlfriends. 

It's been quite easy finding men to date here in Chicago, but finding girlfriends is much harder and something I am committed to being better at this year. Putting effort into finding new girlfriends is something worth working towards because those are the relationships that stand the test of time.


I have been blessed with a deep pool of girlfriends cultivated over decades and they live all over the U.S. These are the relationships I want to foster moving forward. Traveling with my girlfriends is what I want more of looking to the future. 

Sure, I miss vacation sex, but overall traveling with my girlfriends is always a blast. Easy, fun and so many laughs. Not to mention, I don't have to tend to my "lady garden" when I embark on girl trips. You might remember this blog in which I discuss how I despise dealing with hair down there. 

When I travel with my girlfriends, it's unspoken that everyone pitches in so it enables me to truly enjoy my vacation. They clean, pack lunches, cook, buy groceries, and organize - without having to even ask! After years of traveling with my family or my kids and their friends, it's so nice to not have to be the one in charge when on vacation. Girls take care of each other, without asking. 

I will add that I also love traveling with my daughter as well and look forward to exploring more of the world with her. She is a great traveler, and despite inheriting my directional deficit disorder (DDD), she's a wiz at reading google maps on her phone while walking so a keeper, for sure.



Making New Friends

I've become friends with an older German man, Arthur, who lives on the street behind me. He's in his late 80s and retired from a 30+year long career as a teacher at one of the large public high schools in Chicago. He nursed his first wife through cancer, only to remarry a much younger fellow teacher who sadly is now losing her former self due to dementia. 

Art loves when the dogs and I visit him and his adorable dog Bella, which we do daily. He sits outside around the time we do our daily walks and always has treats for the dogs. Bowie and Freddie are both huge fans, for obvious reasons, so they basically drag me to his house at the beginning of every walk. 


I love hearing his stories as he enjoys mine. My favorite stories involve how he would handle bad kids back in the day. When boys would act out, he would simply challenge them to a fight in the school gym. While walking to the gym, he would heavily lean into his German accent while casually warning them that as a former military officer, he is trained to kill. I have to giggle at the thought of those snotty kids, fully believing this teacher was about to drop them like a bag of cement in front of their fellow students. Typically, they would change their minds by the time they made it to the gym. Probably smart.

Art tells me every day when I leave how much he appreciates our visit, and I know he means it. I enjoy them as well. It has to be quite lonely living with someone with dementia. Sometimes when I don't see him out, I worry about him. Has he died? Nope, he's fine. 

When time is not on your side

I have another friend battling ALS, which is about the worst disease anyone could have the misfortune of getting. Even more tragic is she is young, not yet 40 with an absolutely adorable 4-year-old daughter, Liv. 

Laura and I had the great fortune to spend a wonderful week on a cruise to Alaska with Vesna, her husband and Liv, recently. This is another relationship I want to focus on as my time with her is now limited. I love her and her family and feel grateful for whatever time I get to spend with her. 

I will never use this blog to make money, despite many telling me I should. This blog is not meant to be that. It's meant to be my public diary. That said, there is a GoFund me for Vesna to help pay for all the equipment and supplies they will need moving forward.  

If you can help, I assure you it is for the most worthy cause: a beautiful young family going through a nightmare so every little bit helps. Thanks in advance.

The bottom line is I am going to make an effort in all my relationships but with an eye to focus on the ones I know will better my life and I theirs. I haven't given up on finding the right guy but I have 7 years until retirement, so I got time.

And, girlfriends of mine: I have all sorts of fun girl trip ideas. I just need some travel partners in crime so let's start planning! 

Well, this is getting long so I better close. I hope this finds you all well and enjoying this beautiful season.

Until next time,


Barb


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Sunday, April 7, 2024

Springing Forward With New Fur-ever Friend Freddie

I have exciting news! Are you sitting? Good.

I haven't really paid much attention to this blog over the last month or so (reason to be explained later, if you haven't gleaned from title). 

In my last blog I mentioned that I have hit 25K visitors to my blog, which was amazing! So when I sat down to attempt to write this blog, I was shocked to see that I have now hit over 30K visitors! WTF? 

What makes it even more interesting is the fact that the lion's share of new readers are in Hong Kong. As you can see from the image below, over the last month, almost 5K views from Hong Kong! No idea how they unearthed it, and I don't know anyone there, but hey, thanks for reading! Or I should say, "xie.xie!"




Meet Freddie Mercury, master of mayhem

My other piece of news is that I've added a fur family member recently, a puppy named Freddie. He started off as Teddy but we decidedly pretty quickly, he was more of a Freddie. Also, I felt it was bad mojo to move away from my Musician naming convention.  

Think of him as my adorable new alarm clock that came without a snooze button.

I'm sure a few of you are questioning my sanity. I get it. There's certainly a chance this was some type of perimenopausal-induced madness. God knows there's a laundry list of not-so-great symptoms; questionable life decisions is probably somewhere on the list. 

I've certainly questioned the decision a few times myself, if I'm being honest. I told no one -including my own family - because I kept questioning my own logic, and psychologically needed a possible out. Was I sick of my footloose-and-fancy-freeness? Or thought perhaps I was getting too much quality sleep? No! I assure you the latter is not the case. Sleep is one of my love languages.

While it sounds insane, I wanted to get a new puppy because my existing dog, Bowie, needed a companion. After my older dog, Marley, died at the end of 2022, Bowie stopped playing with toys and became more withdrawn. Dogs enjoy being part of a pack. 


To be honest, I've historically have had two dogs at the same time. Although it sounds like it's twice the work; if you're doing anything with one, it's really not that much work doing it for two. Other than walks, that is. It's kind of a "what's-a-pound-to-an-elephant?" proposition.

I bought my first Tibetan Terrier, Dudley, back in 2005, when I still had my original dog, an older golden retriever named Bogart. Dudley brought excitement back into Bogart's life, who at 11yo was mainly interested in two things: food and sleep.  After adding the puppy, I swear he lived another four years, in part because of his new companion (and interesting new food smells that came along with him). 

Raising a puppy is not easy. I'm exhausted all the time. My shitty short-term memory is even shitier with my sleep-deprived brain fog. 


My house has become a dangerous gauntlet of chew toys, bones and baby gates. At any time throughout the day, I probably have puppy poop under my fingernails, and there's a faint smell of urine, the source of which I have not been able to clearly identify. Basically, puppy-induced chaos.

The first week I felt like I had a newborn again; sleepwalking through my day. Needed nighttime potty breaks and then he's up with the sun. While he thinks 6 am is a suitable time to rise and shine, I vehemently disagree due to the fact that sleep is one of my favorite things. 

Upside is I've learned I can sleep quite soundly wearing noise-canceling headphones. I wish they had those around when I had screaming newborns. Pavlov's theory proven: I put those headphones on, and my body instantly relaxes, melts into my sheets and my brain starts saying, "What puppy? You don't have a puppy...for the next hour." 

Sadly, I often awake to Bowie, wide awake, staring at me in disgust. Apparently he can hear him.

I wish I could say I enjoy being up hours earlier than I normally would be, reaping the benefit of that extra time. I was raised by a cheery morning person who constantly reminded me of all the amazing things you can accomplish by "getting up with the chickens." Well, I'm on week four of my newly imposed wakeup time, and I'm more than happy to debunk this myth. 

So far, the only upside is I can now watch CBS Sunday Morning in its entirety. Cute show; you should check it out. 😏 I've actually seen it before but it's usually just the last 5 minutes.

And, as I am writing this, I am fully aware it will take me 87 attempts to finish this blog, as Freddie's attention span is short, while his capacity for terror is massive.



What's he like? His breeder described him as "smart, curious and happy." Hmmm. She obviously didn't remember our initial conversation. This is my 5th dog, so I know personality outweighs good looks. I told her I care much less about color and markings, but really want a sweet, snuggly puppy. I didn't say lethargic, but if that were an option, I would have.

I also knew damn well I didn't want the smartest puppy. "He was the first one of the eight in his litter to learn how to climb the stairs," the breeder brags. Translation: a climber...fabulous.

I've owned dogs for 30 years and know full well that you don't want a smart dog; shoot for mid-range intelligence. You don't want dumb and untrainable, but smart dogs require owners that are one step ahead of them; not a cranky perimenopausal women with a passion for sleep! 



How do I describe him? Imagine if the Road Runner and the Tasmanian Devil somehow had a love child...that would be Freddie. He's a handful but he's also the cutest little pain in the ass ever. And, most importantly, Bowie seems to have taken a liking to him. At a reasonable hour, of course. And, he really is snuggly...right before he falls asleep. 

I hope this blog finds everyone healthy, happy and ready to embrace the warmth of spring. 

Until next time,

Barb and the boys 


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Monday, February 19, 2024

Making Peace With the Patriarchy

Greetings, everyone. Happy to report that we are all well on our way to Spring, and the days are getting longer. The end of the proverbial tunnel is near. Welcome news indeed. 

In blog-related news, I recently broke 25K views for this sillly blog, so shout out to my  readers! While I do this mainly to maintain what little of my sanity I have left, it does make my heart feel warm and fuzzy to know that someone actually reads this! Keep it up and I will do the same. 

Some of you might be aware that I work for a big software company. Annually we host a large event with approximately five thousand engineers, designers, entrepreneurs, students and makers. It's a super cool event and chock-filled with cool tech and gaga gadgetry. 

While I'm not a nerd by profession, I will admit to being quite "nerded out" by some of the incredible inventions and super cool new products we showcase that are created by our 7+ million users. Hard to not be impressed by some of these incredible breakthroughs, many of which are poised to radically change the world we live in, for the better. 

I'm accustomed to being wow'ed by cool tech. What I was absolutely not prepared for the emotion I experienced this year, which marked probably the 15th of these events I have attended over the last 20+ years. Not my first rodeo.

For the second year, I hosted a panel on increasing diversity in manufacturing and how that might help to build our workforce of the future. Diversity is something I've become more interested in as I am now responsible for the marketing of manufacturing solutions at my company. And, as I mentioned in my last blog, I've also become a radical liberal since moving to Chicago. 😉 

One of the panelists, Aneesa Muthana, is a Muslim woman who happens to be the CEO of two manufacturing companies in the Chicago area. I've spent two years stalking Aneesa on LinkedIn, thinking she would be a great panelist for this discussion.


Perhaps working in a company that's largely made up of men and knowing that the manufacturing environment is perhaps even more lopsided in terms of the number of men versus women, I was thrilled when she finally accepted my offer to come to the event.

Currently just less than a third (29%) of manufacturing roles are held by women with less than 20% in leadership positions, and even fewer in the C Suite with just 12% of those titles being held by woman, all of which made Aneesa such an anomaly. I tried to find an actual stat on "Muslim women" in executive roles in manufacturing, and Google gave up the ghost. 

Knowing her background, I assumed Aneesa would be a bona fide badass, take-no-prisons feminist. In my first conversation with Aneesa, I was fully locked and loaded to talk shit about the evils of the established patriarchy, and why as woman, we need to fight for equal representation, pay, etc. I wanted to trauma bond on the evils of the "crusty old men" who have historically dominated both the engineering and manufacturing worlds. I wanted to belt out a song from the Barbie movie.

Her response to this sentiment, however, surprised me. She told me that those white men, the ones often villainized, are the ones who taught her everything she knows about manufacturing, and will be the ones who will teach these skills to the next generation. 

What? No trauma bonding? Nope, that is not the way Aneesa rolls. She is indeed a badass. But, she's no victim. 

I wonder if she's even seen Barbie. 

Aneesa delivered one of our keynote addresses during the event. There were a few execs at my company that were concerned; what would she say? Did anyone see her slides? The discomfort was palpable. 

Not surprisingly, she killed it. She delivered a keynote address that was both inspiring and humble, and perhaps most importantly, inclusive of everyone, in particular white men, which made up the majority of her audience. For those interested in Aneesa's keynote, you can watch it below. She is beyond impressive.

After her speech, a lot of women, clearly inspired, wanted to connect with Aneesa. What was most shocking, however, was the number of men who approached me after to tell me how much her words meant to them. A total of five different men came up to me and told me they actually teared up during her talk and a few again while telling me, including a 6'5" burly, very intimidating security guy. 

Their reaction to her words was very emotional, whereas the women reacted by wanting to connect, network and perhaps find a mentor. They were inspired to action. I honestly found it fascinating.

I guess white men have been picked on for a long time, sadly often for very good reasons, but there are still good men with good hearts, and as Aneesa says, if we want them to be part of building a new future in manufacturing, we need to include them. 

Diversity is not about excluding any one group; it's about the magic that happens when diverse groups of people work together, bringing in their respective strengths, skill sets and life experiences. 

Finding real-world heroes

Another keynote speaker was Lonnie Johnson, a Black scientist and entrepreneur, with stints in the U.S. Airforce and NASA 's JPL Lab. He's perhaps best known for inventing the Super Soaker, which generated over $200 million in sales. He used that money to fund his next venture; a better battery to support the storage of alternative energy to help us build a more sustainable future.

After his speech, I ran into one of our users, Eric Timmons, who I collaborated with on this blog on stolen patents last year for Black History month. He and his wife created "Black Engineer - History & Stolen Patents," a video series featuring 28 Black engineers and inventors denied their proper due. One of those he included was Lonnie Johnson! I asked if he might be interested in meeting him, and he was thrilled.

One of my other panelists, Drew Crowe, is a two-time felon and young father, who turned his life around after seeing his young son mimicking his "street" behavior. He started out sweeping at a local factory and worked his way up, now dedicated to outreach with his New American Manufacturing Renaissance.

Lonnie is also one of Drew's heroes so I was also super excited to introduce him to the legend in person. He wrote a beautiful post on LinkedIn about meeting Lonnie in person, his lack of real role models growing up, and how today's youth idolizes athletes and rappers. 

"Lonnie's the kind of overlooked figure we gotta celebrate. Not just rappers and stars, but scientists enriching lives. Lonnie's inventions brought joy to millions. Now he pays in forward, getting youth into STEM. He represents the boundless potential in every child. That's a true hero. The type of person I aspire to be. Thank you, Mr. Johnson."

It was really touching to see both of these guys meet one of their heroes in person. 

So yeah, a few more tears...at a work conference. Weird. 

I think the bottom line is we are all stronger together. People with different backgrounds, regardless of their color or religion, all bring value to the table. It's what makes the U.S. amazing; the rich tapestry of people that makes up this country should be leveraged as a collective strength, not a reason for division.

I'm certainly a better person having met and interacted with all of these people this week. Heroes don't always wear capes; sometimes they wear head scarves and gold grills, and sometimes they are the crusty old white men paying it forward by teaching the next generation. 

If anyone is interested in the panel I moderated at this event, you can watch it here. 

Thanks for reading. Until next time.

Barb



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