Sadie Hawkins Day?!

Did you know today is officially Sadie Hawkins Day?

I don’t know whether to have feminist pride in it because it was a day when women could, without reproach or shame, approach the men they wanted to date or marry . . . and that was in the days of women-as-chattel and “girls do NOT call boys on the phone” and “do NOT make the first move!” . . . or to be ashamed that we still mark such an event as unusual in any way. I mean, I never asked a boy to a Sadie Hawkins dance, although I remember our having had at least one in junior high days. I used feminine wiles on my lab partner and other vulnerable types and got myself asked to dances. That was the way to do it, back in the dinosaur era. But there were women who DID ask guys to such dances and got a “yes” and a relationship out of it. Let’s just say it all evens out.

Sometimes it is a little intimidating to make a move towards a new friendship or to welcome someone into your neighborhood. A “holiday” like this can be just the perfect excuse. You might get a lively discussion out of it if the person disapproves of the so-called holiday. You might see the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

So anyway, today’s the day for you to ask WHOEVER YOU LIKE to go to lunch with you or come over to study or join your critique group or WHATEVER. Have no shame! Don’t feel that you shouldn’t be so forward! I give you permission to ask another man, another woman, a celebrity, a PUBLISHED AUTHOR, your boss, the taxi driver, a man sitting on a park bench, a waitress . . . whoever! In fact, you don’t need MY permission! Or society’s, either.

But you knew that.

*grin*

Eh.

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Author: shalanna

Shalanna: rhymes with "Madonna" and "I wanna," and is not a soundalike with "Hosanna" or "Sha-Na-Na." Aging hippie with long hair, husband, elderly mother, and yappy Pomeranian. I've been writing since I could hold a crayon. I started with fiction, which Mama said was "lying." “Don’t tell stories,” she would admonish, in Southern vernacular. “That's all in your imagination!” When grownups said this, they were not approving. So, shamed, I stopped telling stories for a few years--rather, I stopped letting anyone read them. I'm married to a fellow computer nerd who doesn't really like hearing about writing, but who reads sf/fantasy and understands the creative drive. I'm actually a nonconformist/hippie still wearing bluejeans and drop earrings and the Alice-in-Wonderland hair with headbands and sandals. Favorite flavor is chocolate/orange, favorite color is either Dreamsicle orange (cantaloupe) or bubble-gum pink, favorite musical is either Bye Bye Birdie, Rocky Horror, or The Producers . . . wait, I also love The Music Man. Is this getting way too specific and irrelevant yet? Obvious why I don't sell a ton of flash fiction, isn't it? To define oneself, I always say, it is good to make a list. How about a booklist? Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird Frank and Ernestine Gilbreth, Cheaper by the Dozen C.S.Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (all the Narnia books) J.R.R.Tolkien,The Hobbit/LORD OF THE RINGS trilogy Gail Godwin, The Odd Woman F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby J. D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye (before dismissing it, actually read it) George Orwell, 1984 Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle Donna Tartt, The Secret History Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn James Allen, As A Man Thinketh Mark Winegardner, Elvis Presley Boulevard James Thurber, My Life and Hard Times The Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum Winnie-the-Pooh/House at Pooh Corner, A. A. Milne Peter Pan, J. M. Barrie The KJV and NIV Bible (each translation has its glories)

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