December 14

(Wassail, Wassail! Please get me some wassail!)

1964

Whoopie! I’m president of our Girl Scout Troop! Me, the old flunky! I got every vote but one.

There is a dark lining to this silvery cloud - I found out that Mr. W checked notebooks and I don’t have mine done! I don’t have my book home, either! I’ll die tomorrow, I know! I feel like a rat fink! I’ll never ever flunk out again - I promise.

Comment 2022

Oh, the drama. The exclamation points!! Was my life really worth all those punctuation marks? Seventy-three year old Jo can’t remember the last time I cared that much about a missed deadline or forgotten commitment. How did I get so chill? I can’t remember that either. It was probably a slow process, starting with the my first pocket calendar (around 1974, when I was in grad school) and culminating with my decision, sometime between my first and second child, to work smarter, not more hours. The State of Maryland, I reasoned, paid me a modest salary (less than my male peers, in fact) to teach a certain number of classes per week and publish x refereed articles per year. If I could meet those expectations in 40 hours a week (or better yet, fewer), I had met my obligations. I learned to say “no”, to schedule my focused efforts during my hours of peak energy, and to make the most of my leisure time. When work was done, I did things I enjoyed, that made me happy.

Yes, I have backslid from time to time. But never to the point of exclamation point abuse.

1975

Faculty Christmas party tonight. I made bread, and it smells so good. (So do I. I’m wearing Maja.)

1978

All my exams (to take, that is) are done. I have a slight headache. Of course I have been running myself ragged this week. Just finished baking a mountain of cookies.

Idea for Smithsonian: ascertain exact changes for period from 1885-1914. Like what I’m doing now, but more elaborate, and more in-depth. Then the cartoons would cover 1875-1914! But is that too much? Maybe not, if I sample and only study a few elements.

1981

Our last week at home before we leave for Connecticut. This visit should not be as hectic as earlier ones. Mom will be in Virginia, visiting Aunt Carol, so we will see her when we get back.That makes it possible to stay longer with Dad - - two night instead of just one. And we will be at Jim’s mother’s place the rest of the time (I think). That beats one day here and one day there. This is when I especially resent the divorce. I hate having to divide my time between Mom and Dad. Dad tends to get short shrift. I hardly feel related to him any more. He has a new family, and my old family no longer exists. Maybe that’s why having a child is suddenly such a powerful urge.

1984

I’m getting a mole removed today at 9:15. Then I am going to get Mom and we are going downtown so I can drop off a proposal, and do a little more shopping. Lunch will happen at some point, but it’s hard to find food on that side of the National Mall. Kiddo has been changing again; she looks like a kid, not a baby.

1986

What a day! What a weekend! I finished Kiddo 1’s dress, we got our Christmas tree, the TV broke, Jim and Kiddo 1 went to the town tree lighting, Jim and I retrieved Mom’s car from her apartment lot, Jim did grocery shopping, Kiddo 2 was dedicated, we had dinner at the B’s, and Kiddo 1 had her dance show. Yikes! But it was all fun (except for the TV.) And Jim, Mom and Kiddo 1 made peanut butter cookies. A whirlwind two days. No more calls to the psychiatric hospital. Mom is here, and being lots of help, finally back to her old self.

This photo was taken on Dec. 14, 1986. Oh, the look on my face…

2023

I wish I could say that December 14, 2023 was an oasis of retirement bliss, but I would be lying. After several days of holiday events, rehearsals, and course prep, culminating in a very satisfactory class last night, today was a nonstop stream of activities, from a library run for DVDs and books, to a foreign film meeting, to early music rehearsal (Wassail, Wassail! Please get me some wassail!), a writing group meeting (I had nothing, not even energy) and then home at last to tack this entry together before it isn’t December 14 anymore.

Tomorrow, if all goes right, will be an oasis of retirement bliss.

2024

I topped off a spectacularly crazy week by attempting to body surf down 9 concrete steps in my building. Nothing broken, just some very colorful bruises on every part of my body that hit the stairs. (I have found 11, so far.) I do not recommend this method of going down the stairs.

My favorite selection from this year’s early music fall concert.