I’ve been super confused by the recent news stories about bans in France on a certain kind of swimwear.

France’s highest administrative court is being asked to overturn beach bans imposed by 26 towns on women in full-body swimsuits known as “burkinis”.

Women are being fined for wearing modest swimwear.

Think about that for a few moments.

If you have any passing knowledge of history, you’ll be vaguely aware that less than 100 years ago, women were arrested or fined or removed from the beach for their swimsuits.

Because those suits didn’t cover enough of their skin.

Now we’re being arrested for covering too much of our skin?

Of course not. Not ALL women are being arrested, fined, or shamed for their swimwear!

Here’s a company that seems to be doing a good business selling modest swimwear to WASP women.

HydroChic’s core mission is to provide a stylish line of modest women’s swimsuits that at once combines the desire for chic expression on the beach and the consumer’s wish for modest swimwear coverage.

Here’s an article in the Wall Street Journal on the business of modest swimwear.

For years, Ms. Bolin, who is in her early 50s, searched for adequate bathing suits. Finally, she ventured out to her favorite Texas water park in a HydroChic outfit: Bermuda-length swim shorts and a three-quarter sleeve top.

Ms. Bolin said she still remembers admiring comments from lifeguards who loved her surfer look: “They thought I was the coolest.” She has never looked back

And that’s how it should be–a woman should be allowed to dress in a manner in which she is comfortable.

But yet women in France are being told that their manner of dress is not acceptable. That they don’t know their own minds and therefore cannot possibly have chosen to dress in such a manner, so therefore, they should not be allowed to dress in such a manner.

It’s 2016; how have we not reached the point where women can wear whatever the hell they want without some government stepping in to tell us they know what is best for us? That what we wear affects people OTHER than ourselves therefore we must toe the government line for how we clothe ourselves?

Why are more women around the world not ENRAGED by this?

Of course, some women are unhappy with these laws. Here’s a lovely image from France, of women who are standing up for their rights of their sisters to dress as they please:

Note that none of the women are the least bit upset by how the other women around them are dressed. In fact, they seem to be enjoying the company.

Because that’s the point. We should support the rights of others to dress as they please.

Mind you, I don’t particularly want to see half-nekkid people, and the thought of sitting in a chair after someone wearing short-shorts squicks me out a bit but that’s my problem to deal with (which is why all my shorts come down almost to my knees). It doesn’t give me the right to order other people to dress in a manner that makes me happy and comfortable.

To close, here is a picture of my in MY swimsuit (no one mocked me or tried to fine or arrest me for my clothes).

I don’t dress modestly because of some government or religious edict (in fact, I’m close to agnostic). I dress modestly because that is how I am comfortable dressing.

And that is and should remain MY choice and MY decision.

——

For the curious or interested, my top is a rash guard from Coolibar, which makes UPF 50 clothing and swimwear.

—

This does not mean I won’t mock creepy men who wear speedos and act like god’s gift to women. Because there’s dressing as you like, and then there’s being an asshole. The latter is always deserving of mockery.

If you’re a teenager, I imagine your favorite activity is to sit with your parents on a quiet river bank, drink your glass of lemonade, and ponder the complexities of life. Probably the first question you ask is “How much water is flowing in this river?” You’ve come to the right place for an answer. The U.S. Geological Survey has been measuring streamflow on thousands of rivers and streams for many decades

from the The USGS Water Science School

Today as we were driving past the VFD, we saw they had all their hoses laid out in their driveway, and a little girl in a sun dress was leaping over the hoses, one at a time, all the way across the lot.

Last night at Sirriani’s Cafe (in Canaan Valley) we were seated near an elderly couple. (OK, we were seated near everyone–it’s a small place.)

When the couple went to pay, the waitress told them that a woman at another table had already paid for their meal. Just because.

And when they went to leave, since a pouring rain had started, the other employee got out a big umbrella and walked them to their car.

Thank you, to those who have served, who are currently serving, and to their families.

Thank you.

I got a new pair (set?) of Chums for my sunglasses, and was amused when I read the care directions.

(Yes, the picture does show a head with a fork.)

I showed them to Michael, who was also amused.

Later, when I was taking off my sunglasses and hanging them up…

Michael: How did they taste?
Michelle: ?
Michael: We know you don’t follow directions, so how did they taste?

I had an odd little experience this morning when I first arrived at work.

First, the building where I work has two long hallways, connected by several crossways. But to make it easier, think of it as an upper case H.

I enter the ground floor of the building at the foot of one leg, halfway down the hallway turn onto the crosspiece, and then when I reach the other leg, take the stairs up to the first floor.

This morning, after turning from the main hallway into the cross way, I suddenly noticed my footsteps were strangely louder–as if I was wearing shoes with hard heels instead of the soft soles I have been wearing. (The sidewalks have been treacherous–one ugly slide and a fall in a single day put me off wearing my Docs until the walks are clear.)

I softened my step, but I could still hear the striking of my heels on the tile.

Then I reached the intersection and saw walking away from me a woman in boots, walking the exact pace I was.

She was not, however, my doppelganger, seeing as she was tall and thin with long, straight, blonde hair.

Not only were there no existing images of a Bespin Clown Car, apparently NO ONE ELSE ON THE INTERNET EVER MADE THIS MISTAKE.

What do I win?

We went to Frostburg to have dinner for my Dad’s birthday, and I talked my parents into stopping by The Ark!

Look! Here we are!

Ta DA!

We’re in luck! Clear skies!

It’s large, but it’s not THAT large. Guess that’s why the dinosaurs couldn’t fit.

I’m guessing this is the ramp for the animals to go down into the hold. Not much headroom for the elephants and giraffes.

All the cement is crumbling.

The footers (again, crumbling) were poured for a much larger structure than the existing steel super structure.

There you go! A closer look at the Ark, a structure that has provided hours of amusement over the years.

There are several more pictures if you click through to Flickr.

I believe I’ve talked before about participating in the Walk 100 Miles in 100 Days program at WVU.

I’ve done it every year since at least 2005 (that’s the oldest record in the Excel file I used to keep track), and except 2010, when I broke my ankle, I got way over the minimum every year.

What I find fascinating (because I am a huge geek) are the pattern differences from year to year.

Here is a chart for last year:

Here is a chart for this year:

I’m thinking that the Saturday change is due to the number of rainy Saturdays we had this year, where we couldn’t get out and go hiking. But I find it just as fascinating that my peak walking day during the week shifted from Wednesday to Friday. Most likely because Wednesday is the day I’m most likely to go out to lunch with friends.

And if you’re curious, the number of miles I walked this year during the program was 477 (longer than the distance from Morgantown to Fayetteville, NC). Only 176 (just a bit longer than the distance from Morgantown to Charles Town, WV) of those counted towards the program, because you can only count 12 miles/week for the program, and that’s pretty much the max you can get.

So, it was fun. Both the walking and the tracking.

(And my team? We walked 1972 miles, which is longer than the trip from Morgantown to Denver, CO (1465).)

I work IT.

That means I dress in jeans and a t-shirt (in my case a long sleeve t-shirt, because I have a propensity to touch things that will give me a rash.

I dress for working on computers in rooms that process soil or other messy things.

In fact, here is how I’m dressed today.

Comfortably.

Why am I sharing this seemingly inconsequential information with you?

Because of something that happened this morning.

As I stepped out of the room where I had been working, I saw two men standing in the hallway. One most likely a few years older than me, and one probably a few years younger.

They both turned towards me when they heard the door close, and then the older of the two went back to studying the bulletin board.

The younger male stared at me.

As I walked towards him, he continued to stare at me, and as I walked past, he actually turned his body so he could continue to stare at me as I went past him and into the stairwell.

The reason I’m sharing this is, you see, this is the kind of shit that happens all the fucking time when you’re female.

Shit like this is why I don’t feel safe walking places alone.

Shit like this is why I carry my keys in my hand, sharp bits pointing out.

Shit like this is why I hate dressing nicely, because then it’s worse.

Shit like this is why I always wear shoes I can run in.

No, it doesn’t “feel good” that someone thought I was attractive enough to stare at.

It feels creepy.

It feels unsafe.

And it feels incredibly unfair.

There isn’t much blooming right now except my Stella d’Oro day lilies, but they’re making up for the lack elsewhere.

Buttercups (Ranunculus asiaticus) at Tomlinson Run State Park

Stella d’Oro daylilies

Lemon thyme (Thymus x citriodorus ‘Variegata’) is one of my favorite herbs. I adore the way it looks and the way it smells.

“Aunt Michelle! Run in a circle!”
“I can’t! I’ll puke.”
Waitress: “Can I get anything for you?”
“Aunt Michelle is gonna puke!”