Anyone who comes too close to my desk during deadline exposes themselves to my penchant for lobbing F-bombs over the walls of my cubicle. Trucker-mouth tendencies aside, it’s time again for me to remind y’all that my other favorite F-word, feminism, is NOT an epithet. 

Part of our mission at skirt! is to fight the stereotype of “radical hysteria” that the Rush Limbaughs of the culture use to distract us from the unfortunate truth that women’s rights still need our attention. As Americans, most of us enjoy equal opportunities as well as the right to wear really hot shoes wherever and whenever we like, but in other places near and far, women are still denied education and healthcare; governments stand by while rape is used as a weapon.

Feminism was once described as the radical notion that women are people, and nothing elicits from me more F-words (the kind that would make your mama wash your mouth out with soap) than hearing that it belongs to the domain of man-hating Amazons, or worse, is no longer relevant.

Outside my kitchen window, a mockingbird mama has claimed the camellia tree. She’s busy tucking together sticks and dog fluff and even a sparkly thread of tinsel from someone’s bicycle handlebars, and as I flit around the house before work picking up dirty socks and old homework papers, I marvel how the urge to nest transcends species. (Of course, we humans are the luckiest—we get HomeGoods.) Every creature needs a place of comfort to snuggle up at the end of the day, and whether it’s a burrow or a condo, let’s celebrate staying home. This month we’re also honoring mothers and daughters—so I must bow deeply to the woman who gave me life and continues to inspire me with her generosity, enthusiasm and ever-sharpening wit. And then there’s my own daughter, who alternately melts my heart and terrifies me, a budding warrior princess who wields a slingshot like a savage but still needs a lullaby every night. Thankfully, she isn’t flying away any time soon—unlike the mockingbird, whose chicks will take off at the end of summer. May she—and the rest of us—be so blessed that our daughters always return to the nest for a visit.

Tires squealing, pavement peeling – sounds like freedom to me.

From the whoosh-whoosh of roller skates to the vroomity-vroom of her first car, I say a set of wheels is a all a woman ever needs to sort out her life. Not that driving away from one’s problems solves a thing, but any negative circumstance looks a lot less hideous from a distance (and there’s no thrill like watching the odometer hit 100K.)

Our profiles this month agree that the real journey isn’t in miles logged but experience gained: Whether it’s feeling the wind whipping through her hair on two wheels, cruising the county on six or jockeying for position with her elbows on eight, these women find something new around every bend – why not follow their lead?

Even if you only make it around the block, you’ll never end up back where you started as long as you’ve got your eyes wide open. Lace up your skates or gas up the tank (a necessary evil until we’re all on biodiesel) and take off – even if it’s just for the afternoon.

Anyone tries to hold you back? Tell ‘em to kiss your asphalt.

~ jessica leigh

Everyone knows relationships take work.

Which is why I’ve always been fascinated by couples who actually work together – how do they keep from carrying the argument over who left toothpaste in the sink that morning into a client meeting? If you’ve both already heard all the office gossip (psst, did ya hear who’s sleeping with the boss?), what’s left to talk about over dinner? (Wait, I am the boss!)

It also seems to require preternatural levels of patience and cooperation I don’t believe I possess. Sheesh, my husband and I pop a bottle of bubbly every time we complete a minor home project together without calling a marriage counselor (if it involves electricity and a ladder, we go out for a nice dinner. We plan to book a trip to Europe should we ever manage the hall bathroom remodel.)

I drilled the five couples we profiled this month on how they’ve built successful businesses together while keeping the flames fanned at home, and though there are no plans to squeeze another chair in my cubicle, I’ll apply their commitment to clear communication and respect with my honey – starting with changing out the dining room light fixture.

Resolutions, already? Frankly, I was just content to ride out the rollercoaster of 2008 without accruing any more bruises or debt.

But that was before I met this month’s five terrific women whose aspirations for change and capacity for joy cannot be quashed by the spikes of any stock market. They reminded me that the promises we make to ourselves don’t necessarily have to hurt, and that in this hyper-conscious culture that dictates we need to have perfectly organized closets and rock hard abs to be “enough,” accepting ourselves exactly the way we are might be the best resolution of all.

In past years I’ve quit smoking and committed to the gym, but this cycle around the sun I vow to be more gentle with my faults, mistakes and messes. (I suppose I should resolve to quit swearing, but y’know what? F*@$ that – it’s the only vice I have left.)

Marcel Proust wrote that “It is always during a passing state of mind that we make lasting resolutions,” which sounds to me like taking more naps is the way to self-improvement. Add that to the list.

~ jessica leigh

In her star tiara and killer thigh-high boots, everybody’s favorite superheroine always took on the most psychotic villains without mussing her glossy black mane.

But while golden lassoes and x-ray vision are all fine for the comics, the real Wonder Women of this world must manage without access to such extras. With hidden superpowers like the ability to stay calm in a crisis, the strength to hold legislators accountable and the grace to remain compassionate towards forgotten members of our society, this month’s inspiring profiles prove you can deflect evil and effect positive change without a shiny costume.

(Not that I would turn down a pair of magical bracelets that enable me to meet deadlines with ease, and get my children off to school on time. And create instant parking spaces. While we’re at it, an invisible plane would be awesome, too.)

Volunteering for a political campaign, cooking dinner for a neighbor, donating time or money to a local charity - we’re all capable of becoming Wonder Women right here and now when we use the special powers we already have.

And don’t forget the most important one of all: Your vote. Have you registered yet?

~jessica leigh

Confronted by obstacles or just feeling lost? Cruise on into The Detour Issue, where no matter how many wrong turns you make, it’ll turn out all right.

Sometimes all it takes to free ourselves is acceptance: Personal development guru Werner Erhard once counseled that we “ride the horse in the direction it’s going,” a down-home way of saying that life becomes easier when we give up resisting it - even when we’re going in circles (or stuck in the hideous construction traffic on Abercorn.)

I was recently asked by a group of college students what career steps I followed. The question stumped me, because frankly, I have no idea.

It occurred to me that I haven’t planned much, like my garden, which has peppers growing next to hydrangeas and lots of wildflowers my husband insists are weeds. Or the time I ran out of money in Europe a week before my flight home. Or, come to think of it, my children.

My mother likes to remind me that when she was a girl, the only respectable career options for a woman were secretary, teacher or nurse. While those occupations are definitely some of the most valuable around, I’m glad the circle of choices has expanded since then (and not just because my handwriting is illegible, six-hour stretches with my own two children exhaust me and I faint at the merest suggestion of blood.)

When I picture Lady Luck, I imagine a smartly-dressed babe, coolly tossing a pair of dice, her head cocked as if to ask, “Are ya feelin’ lucky? Well, are ya?” She’s no fairy godmother swooping down to fill your closet with expensive shoes; Lady Luck rolls on the darker, seedier side of town in her souped-up convertible, shaking her head at the suckers who think they’ve got a chance. She’s the nudge that turns your head to see a five dollar bill on the sidewalk and the rock star parking