Month: February 2022

I’ve been sitting on these thoughts for a few days and still don’t know quite what my point is.

Early in the week I finished reading a book called “Nightbitch”. I started it about 2 weeks ago, read perhaps 30 pages and put it aside. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it and thought “This kind of reminds me of “The Yellow Wallpaper”.   When I researched reviews I was validated in that reaction as at least one reviewer had the same thought.

Would it surprise you to know that I did not skip to the end of the book to get some idea of where it was going? It wouldn’t have made any difference if I had, this is one very odd book. I skimmed those first 30 or so pages because none of it was making any sense to me, others might relate, I couldn’t and can’t.

Still, I went back to the book, picking up where I left off and then became engaged. It is very well written. (I’m not sure how to define ‘very well written’ but I enjoyed the reading of the book – the words flowed, everything held together.)  Before the book is due back at the library I have to read more closely those pages I skimmed.

I think there are many people who can and will relate to the story, I am not one of them because I am not/have never been, a mother.  This book is very much for women who are mothers.  I have so little understanding of motherhood – being pregnant, giving birth, raising a child while simultaneously having a job, being a wife, being a housekeeper – all the many roles a woman with children plays.

And I think it is only a certain type of woman who would relate to this book. But I may be wrong there, perhaps all women with children can. Never having been that woman, I can’t be sure.

I have never wanted to be married or a parent. I knew early on that marriage and family was not for me. It’s interesting to look back and note that other people saw the same thing in me that I did. And said so. I don’t regret never having had children but I do regret ever having married. I am not marriage material.

I can’t decide whether this book has something important to say, or whether it is just odd and more than somewhat, oh, let’s say shocking. Click the reviews link, read them and decide for yourself whether you would wanted to venture there. I became comfortable with the premise but I think many would not be.

This book just got me thinking about who I am not, and never was. And never wanted to be. And there is no such thing as a ‘natural’ woman. And there are no shoulds about who a person is. And it makes me thank my lucky stars that so many of society’s shoulds never touched me, or that I never let them color my view of who I was/am/hoped to be.  I can’t say I escaped all of those shoulds, I didn’t.  I do regret that I acquiesced to them.

I am not unusual or unique in who I am, or how I’ve lived my life, or how I’ve always viewed myself.  Is it totally egocentric or self-involved to say I’m so very glad that I am me. And that I wish I had had the guts to be even more me?

I live inside my head – all my conversations are internal – mostly talking to myself but I occasionally have a mental conversation with some give and take – with someone who is a real person or an alter ego. Obviously I make up/create both sides of the conversation.

My mental conversations/musings often turn into blog posts. And like most of my posts I would rather be tawkin’ than typing.   I  really require privacy to record my thoughts and I don’t have any – maybe the hour or so my husband naps in the afternoon…

Anyway – I was reading a newspaper article on my ipad, and an ad for a coat-like suit jacket or a suit jacket-like coat appeared. I couldn’t tell if it was meant for a male or female but I really liked it.

The thought occurred to me that young people nowadays are lucky – they can be whoever they want to be; can dress however they want to dress. That wasn’t so easy when I was young. There were dress codes for school. Girls couldn’t wear pants of any kind, even in high school (that would be, for me, 1960-1964).  In 1969 there was a bruh-ha-ha about women in pantsuits being banned from NYC restaurants.  But by 1969 mini-skirts were the thing and I wore the miniest minis. Then came hot pants and I wore those to work too.

Thing is, I really liked wearing mens clothes. For the style and for the fabrics and for the much better workmanship. Even in cheap clothing the quality of mens clothes was better than in womens clothes.  I had 3-piece ‘pants’ suits, made for women, which I wore with stiletto heels. When a boy friend was cleaning out his closet and I grabbed a couple of suits and had them tailored to fit me.

I liked mixing tailored mens clothes with girly accessories. Not the perfect example but one outfit I loved was a black turtleneck bodysuit (oh, how I loved bodysuits), skin tight black pants, red suspenders (just for the color pop) and over-the-knee black high-heeled boots. Yup, that was office wear. I was probably in my late 30’s and yes, I was rail thin at the time (except for the boobs – no matter how thin I was, the boobs were always visual focal point.)

Even my women’s suits – skirt and jacket – were severely tailored, worn with a silk t-shirt and fishnet stockings and – stilettos. Man, I loved my 3 and 4 inch heels. And fancy stockings.

As always(?), as usual – no point to this, just telling stories.

Today is Thursday – grocery shopping day. We called for an Uber and got a TESLA! (Model Y if any of you want to know.)  And it had a GLASS ROOF! Tinted unfortunately but, you know – Tesla. Also, unfortunately it is was quite a cloudy morning BUT –

I lay down in the back seat and just feasted my eyes on the trees, the sky and the utility poles and lines. I love this! The utility wires and poles are fascinating when seen from that angle. They seem to move, cross over each other, it gives me such delight to see them. And the trees seen from that angle – if you haven’t experienced it, I can’t explain it – but it gives me such joy and delight.

I swear, before I die, I will order up a honking big car with a glass roof and have the driver just drive around aimlessly for a couple of hours. It would have to be a bright sunshiny day in the early Spring or early Fall. Just the thought of it makes me giggle and wiggle.

sweet potatoes for lunch along with British bangers. Yes, I know the brits probably eat their bangers with white potatoes but then – No, just no.

I’m nuking the sweet potatoes, yes, roasted would probably be better but I’m lazy (and I hate to cook). Then I will add the teeny-tiniest bit of butter, to make them easy to mash, tho really they don’t need it. Add a couple of grinds of pepper, cinnamon and nutmeg and you have dessert for a main course. You will note there is no salt.

When I dish them up I will add butter to my husband’s portion because he is a philistine. None on mine thank you.

I hate white potatoes in any form. There is no way in 47 hells that you can make them taste like anything edible or interesting unless you add all sorts of unhealthy crap to them – like great gooey gobs of salt, or butter if you mash them. Even garlic is no help. So -No, just no. (Plus the texture of mashed white potatoes makes me gag much like oatmeal – which is also disgusting.)

My husband has learned to love sweet potatoes (or yams – whatever) because – lots of butter for him plus cinnamon and nutmeg? He’s one happy camper because it tastes like dessert.

Over and out for now.

~ It’s Sunday and therefore a day I can sleep/stay in bed for as long as I like but it seems my 4-year old granddaughter gets up early and decided to send Nonna emojis. I’m not that adept at texting and being still mostly asleep I sent some weird half-ass replies but did finally manage to text a dragon with the message “Tell Missy I am a dragon in the morning” and Da Mama texted back that Thira thought that was hilarious – that Nonna was a dragon. I love my granddaughters to pieces – greatest regret of my life not being able to be a part of their lives. Moving to Vermont is just not an option.

~ I’ve become much to mellow in my old age, not a lot bothers me other than my husband being an asshole when it comes to managing his disabilities. I seem to have run out of words and would rather use other people’s words, via songs, to communicate. Seems to me anything worth saying has already been said and we are all just beating that poor dead horse.

There is some quote somewhere that Shakespeare covered every topic there is and we are all just repeating what he said. The human condition really has not changed since homo sapiens came down from the trees. Hash and re-hash – power over others and greed pretty much sums up who homo sapiens are, what they value. Cynical much, Grace? No, just a realist.  For years (and years) I have said breed greed out of humans and all the world’s problems would be solved. Or, as my mother used to say – “Hurray for me, the hell with you”.  She would have known, it was kinda her attitude towards life.

~ I wonder how they do it – weather forecasters. Our local weatherman, Doug, is always right on the money. He says “The rain will start around 2pm” and sure-as-shootin’ come 2pm and the rains come. He says “The rain will taper off and be gone by 4pm” and dang, you can set your watch by it. Gotta love ole Doug. (Plus he is very good looking.)

~ Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and I will be posting music (what else?) They say music is the way to reach those with Alzheimer’s/dementia. I certainly have not reached that stage of devolvement but music is more in my head than words – well, my words. Other people’s words plus music – that’s what’s in my head.

A million years ago, when I was young, I was at Jane Wells’ house and she was practicing piano. I fell in love in love with the piece she was playing – a Chopin polonaise? I can’t remember but one of these days I will troll through youtube and perhaps find that bit of music. Will today be that day? I have nothing on my agenda for today except making lunch.

~ Whenever I think of Chopin, the composer, I think of Kate Chopin, the writer.  The only thing they have in common is their last name and, I suppose it is unusual enough of a name for that association to stick in my mind. Perhaps after I finish my current book I’ll go back and re-read some Kate as I listen to some Frederic.  That’s a plan.

~ And the word memories just flashed across my mind and a song (of course!) only the singer I’m hearing is Barbra Streisand – I’m not a fan, I need to get her voice out of my right quick. So I’ll just wrap this up and go listen to Linda Ronstadt or Edith Piaf or, hey, Charles Aznavour – sing to me in French and I turn into a puddle of mush.

Mushing on now, au revoir!

I wish I were. I like moving. It took me a long time to like moving, I stayed in my first apartment for 7 years. I had to move because no one would come to my apartment, the neighborhood had become a tad too dangerous. But once I started the moving thing I took to it like a duck to water!

Doing a quick count I have had about 25 “permanent’ addresses (probably more, I tend to lose track when I start counting them) since I was born and 3 or 4 temporary addresses, temporary housing between permanent addresses. Some moves were intra-city, some intra-state, some inter-state and some were international. Whew! Fun tho, really.

One move was a self-move. It was intra-city, just half a mile or so. My husband’s friend and my boss and his brother helped with the schlepping, everybody had vans. When I got to work on Monday my boss said to me “I bet you have everything unpacked and put away already” and I replied “Of course!. My boss knew me well.

Move in the morning, unpack in the afternoon, everything in its proper place, dispose of the boxes. The only things not unpacked and put away properly were books and art work. Books were put on shelves any old which way and organized at some later date. Art work was unpacked and stacked neatly, out of the way. It takes a few days to decide where art work will look best.

The longest I’ve lived anywhere was from 1955 to 1967, from ages 9 to 21. We have now been living 10 years in this place. 10 years! Way too long. Way past moving time but it’s not so easy when you own the place you live. And you live in a very expensive part of the world. Could we afford the mortgage on a $700,000 home? Yes but why would we burden ourselves at this point in our lives with a large mortgage? (And yes, that’s what a 2bed/2bath apartment condo would cost here.) Still – I SO want to move.

What I will never understand is why people retire to out-of-the-way places. Assuming retirement age is 65 (or older) why in heaven’s name would you situate yourself far from health care, grocery stores and amenities that will become essentials as you age and your health will certainly start to deteriorate? And your driving ability as well.

We live one mile, one stinking mile, away from where we should be. Choosing this place was mistake number 1, we were being pennywise and pound foolish. If we had upped our budget by $30,000 to $50,000 we would have been in the perfect location (and we could have afforded it then.) But we were younger (Ha! 65 is not so young) and more mobile,  easily used public transportation even after we broke down and bought a car, which we had to sell 5 years ago because of my husband’s disabilities (I don’t drive.)

But – we are just over a mile away from a top notch medical facility. Less than a mile to 2 grocery stores. Bus on the corner for a 5 minute ride to the Metro. These things we did take into consideration, just not enough. At first we walked to the grocery store and the Metro; took busses to other places we wanted to go but my husband got annoyed with waiting for busses and bought a car 5 months in.

Now my husband can barely get into an Uber without help (mine). I can’t walk that mile and back to the grocery store. Our illnesses aren’t particularly terminal (aside from Life itself being terminal) but they are limiting.

We made a semi-decent choice when we moved here; did take into consideration the future and how we would manage but we didn’t see the future unfold the way it has.

I want to move. Not just because I get bored easily (10 years!) and I think moving is fun but time and troubles have made it almost a necessity.

Before you retire to that lovely cabin in the woods – Think!

~ It is Friday, February 4th, 8:20am as I type this and the temp is 55º with a steady rain. After weeks (and weeks) of unusually cold weather today is a real treat, even with the rain, which quite frankly, I enjoy. Rain is cozy. (I just stepped away from the computer to crack all the windows – AHHH – fresh air! Gotta love it!)

~ I didn’t get much sleep last night because my brain was in overdrive, again/still. Plus Friday is laundry day, and knowing that I have to get up early to get that done (community laundry room) means my subconscious says “Don’t go to sleep, you have to get up early”.  Happens on Sunday nights too because – Monday is also a laundry day.  Knowing that I can’t sleep as long as I want/need keeps me from sleeping altogether which is why I can’t nap.

~ Remember how I said poetry was one of my passions? I would love to explain it all to you, and that was what was going through my brain. Explaining it all, trying to share with you my passion. How it all works, what it all is – I could expound for hours about poetry. I am so tempted to end this post with links to poems that blew me away when I first read them. Poetry is so immediate. A great poem just grabs you by the throat…Annnd – there I go. I will stop now.

~ Just one more observation. Last night during my mental lecture I realized that many of my favorite poems share the same theme. I actually got up to check on a poem to see if I was remembering it correctly. I was.

Here it is – i carry your heart with me by e.e. cummings (Yes, e.e. cummings is also famous for not using capitals.)