I’ve been writing this column for almost 25 years now, and I must tell you, it’s not always easy. I don’t always have a burning issue on my mind, or even a lukewarm issue. Sometimes I do, but I’m not in the mood to write. Or I’m in the mood to write, but I’m not sure what I want to say. Or I know exactly what I want to say, but I don’t feel like sending half my readers into a tizzy.
No matter what you write – and by “you” I mean “I”– there will always be a sizable contingent of readers who seem deeply committed to misunderstanding you and/or impugning your character. (Those readers are currently thinking, “Oh, I understand you and your ‘character’ just fine, lady!”) This fact used to bother me a great deal. After 25 years, it just leaves me numb and a little bored.
My last column – about 60 Minutes and book banning – got a lot of feedback. Facebook discussions ensued. Words were exchanged. Sometimes angry words. People talked past each other – even about each other – within virtual earshot. A few people actually talked to each other, for which I was grateful. I’m always grateful for feedback, but, again, the whole experience – which once would have energized me – left me feeling blah. Our social media jousts are just so predictable now – you know exactly who the team players are, and what they’ll say, and nobody EVER surprises you by breaking rank, and you despair for the future of this country – and it all feels rather rote and ho-hum.
Maybe I’m just in a rut. Or a slump. Or something.
Nevertheless, this page must be filled. I have a publisher who won’t let me miss a deadline. I’ve been married to him for as long as I’ve been writing this column, and he’s a stickler. A taskmaster. Couldn’t care less about my ruts nor my slumps.
There’s a nice man I run into around town who really wants me to write about pickleball. He lobbies me every time I see him. Now, I’m entirely open to publishing a pickleball article – in fact, we have – but it’s probably not going to happen on this page. This page is where I write about the things that keep me up at night. The things that break my heart or tickle my fancy or make me go hmmmmm…
Perhaps it’s something that happens with age, but the “things of this world” that once consumed me – politics, culture wars, media wars, actual wars – seem to leave me cold lately. There’s so much information coming at me all the time, from so many directions, I often feel like turning my back on it altogether. Or curling up in the fetal position and just letting it wash over me. Like many of my fellow Americans, my sensibilities have been lulled – even dulled – by info overload.
But most of my fellow Americans don’t have a column to write.
Recently, as if on cue, Facebook (aka Big Brother) picked up on my malaise and directed me to a group called The Dull Women’s Club. I owe Mark Zuckerberg a thank-you note, because seldom have the algorithmic powers been in such fine form. It was a match made in heaven. I was smitten.
The Dull Women hail from all over the world. Though many are British, I’ve come across members from Australia, New Zealand, Sweden, Romania, and even Ukraine. Plenty of Americans, too, of course. We are not without our dullards here in the States.
I use that term “dullards” with newfound affection, because the Dull Women’s Club has turned out to be the most charming destination on the internet. A refuge, of sorts.
Women post selfies, accompanied by introductions like the following:
“I am quite certain I belong to the Hobbit family. I, too, enjoy first breakfast, second breakfast, and so on. I just want a cabin in the woods with a mossy roof, a fire, many books and strong tea. By strong tea, I mean a hot toddy. My new hobby of creating the perfect scone is packing on some extra pounds, which just means I get to wear comfy clothes.”
“I’m a dull woman in the U.K. in her early 40s. I never used to be this dull, but perimenopause has made me into a middle-aged introvert that gets her thrills from trips to Waitrose, using my new Vax carpet cleaner, and bird bothering. Here I am, in my dull coloured bobble hat, having just driven four hours to stare at a river in the freezing cold on a dull winter day for eight hours, before driving home again. I had hoped to see a rare bird that had made the pilgrimage to our shores from the States, but alas, all I saw was an empty river and people’s legs.”
The Dull Women seem to have a few things in common. They are nature lovers. They have pets. They’re homebodies, but many like to travel. Baking is a common pastime. There are lots of painters, and even more who knit or crochet. They love books.
And most of them are really, really funny.
Here are some Big Announcements recently posted on the Dull Women’s Club Facebook page:
“Hello, I’m Erin, and something to know about me is that I can fold a fitted sheet.”
“Hi, new to the group – just after an opinion: Does anyone else not bother to make their bed because you are just going to get back in later in the day and mess it up? I really can’t see the point.”
“I’m a bit nervous posting this as it may be too exciting. But here goes. I’m very good at selecting the perfectly sized container for leftovers. A smaller one would not fit everything, and anything larger would be inefficient. I’m very proud of this ability and call it my dull superpower.” (This one came with a photo of leftover broccoli!)
“My husband’s pacemaker battery is going, so every morning it beeps at 8:48 am. We set a timer and wait for the beep. Today the beeper was turned off by technicians so not sure what to look forward to in the morning to enhance our coffee and Wordle experience.”
“My greatest aspiration is to be nothing more than a feral housewife and a dirt gremlin.”
“My husband says it’s possible to think about nothing. Like your mind is completely blank. I don’t agree. My mind is always thinking about something even if it’s the idea of trying to think about nothing.”’
“I just finished up a container of cottage cheese and thought you’d like to know.”
“Well, this has caused quite a ripple in my world. Silicone muffin cups. The mini quiches just literally tipped out of them when they were done. No more scrubbing muffin tins or seeing half your quiche stuck to a paper liner. It’s a gamechanger!”
“Anyone else planning to turn over the stones in their driveway this weekend?”
“I just ate granola for dinner.”
“I am now transitioning from Winter black to Spring black. This is a reflection of my personality.” (This one came with a photo of her closet.)
“Once my bra comes off, it’s game over. I don’t care what event is happening, I am not going.”
“My containers to lids ratio is perfect.”
“I fell in love with my current husband because he had a shop vac.”
“I recently accepted that I don’t need to double space at the end of a sentence and I’m contemplating ditching the Oxford comma.”
“Later today, I plan on putting a new sponge in the kitchen.”
Reader, I realize some of you won’t find these Big Announcements as amusing, endearing, and downright refreshing as I do. And that’s okay.
Not everyone is Dull Woman material.
