The MAD Goddess writes out loud with candor and humor about the changing landscape of life for women with retired husbands,
adult children, and grandchildren. It's not always a pretty story,
but it's usually pretty funny.

Search This Blog

Sunday, July 6, 2008


The picture below was on the front of a birthday card I received for the recent big 5-0. I like her. I am like her. She is definitely a MA'd Goddess woman.

I hang with a group of gal-pals who embody the MA'd Goddess philosophy. We’re a diverse group of mostly middle aged woman working to maintain a sense of balance on this roller coaster ride we call life.

Collectively, we are the Lunachics ~ a name we chose to embrace the spirit of Luna, Goddess of the moon, but also to keep others guessing.

Women in groups have always been labeled. I think it’s because it makes men nervous when too many of us get together in one place. They’re okay with PTA, altar societies and any women’s auxiliary attached to an otherwise fraternal organization.
Book clubs start to push the envelope – we might be getting wild ideas in our heads.

Men feel much safer when women meet for quilting bees, sewing circles or even to stitch-n-bitch. The reassurance that we’re keeping our hands busy with the duties of domestic chores allows them to sleep at night with both eyes closed. Idle hands . . . devils workshop and all that jazz.

As for the Chics, we’re a pretty typical group of women, brought together by common experience and bonded by the unconditional support we give to one another. Just because we call ourselves the Lunachics and we meet under the light of the full moon . . . and we have no definable agenda (at least that we admit), doesn’t necessarily mean we’re traveling off the beaten path.

Oh sure, we torture our husbands and significant others with tales of secret ritual and midnight-moonlight nude dancing, but trust me – none of us is interested in playing show and see. Like over-ripe fruit that was once solid and firm, we’ve gone from juicy to loosey.

The Lunachics remain a mystery to the men in their lives. Sometimes, we’re a mystery even to ourselves, but that’s not stopping us from trying to figure it all out.
As to keeping my hands busy, I prefer filling them with a glass of good wine and some decadent chocolate treat to any kind of needle work.


“I’m just a bitch!” I confessed.
“Oh, but you’re a good one,” she said in empathetic tone.

I’m getting closer to the day, to the dream,
of sitting pretty on my throne.

Old Biddy?
Hell No!
Let him be the King of all her perceives.
I am the Queen of my Destiny.

I’ll eat my cake, with chocolate and Stoli.
I’ll drink a toast with the Chics who know me.
I’m a bitch, and a good one at that.
Those who don’t like it, can just kiss my royal asp.

No comments:

Post a Comment