My International Day.

It's a gorgeous day here in Portlandia.  The sky is a soft shade of blue and the sun is forcing me to dig my sunglasses out of the dark recesses of our hall closet.  What a great day to celebrate a birthday!

I only realized a few years ago that my birthday is the same day as International Women's Day.  It's not a bad day to share.  Unlike the poor saps who have to compete with New Year's Eve festivities or Thanksgiving dinner, my friends are usually available for a drink--or two.  And I get to feel special celebrating my birth and femaleness on this day.

On International Woman's Day I'm usually thinking of my sisters in Uganda, Haiti or Afghanistan, where being female sadly comes with a number of prehistoric struggles.  Or I stew with envy reading about women's lives in Norway or Sweden.  But this year I'm especially concerned with the plight of women in my own backyard.  I don't know about you, but it sure feels that women's rights in the U.S. are coming under assault, whether in Congress or on the airwaves.

It is my birthday wish that we no longer need an International Women's Day, because it's a given that living as a woman is no worse or better than living as a man.  I know, I'd be better off wishing for a pet unicorn, but a girl can hope, can't she?

On a more immediate note, my mom--one hell of a woman--is undergoing a heart procedure today called an ablation.  I'm sending her healing thoughts for a speedy recovery, because no matter how old I get, I still want my mommy around.