February 12
Happy birthday, Mom.
1965
Today is Lincoln's birthday and Mom's, too. Mom isn't going to California, she changed her mind. She got 3 letters today. Aunt #1 sounds like a nut and Aunt #2 is.
I talked to V today at a girls' basketball game. That song "Secret Love" was written for me. I love him. It's a silly, school-girl love - it will never go anywhere. It's all just a beautiful pinky fuzzy dream -- like all the teenage romances in the world.
1979
I did it again - - - used up the whole morning just lounging around, putting on make-up and posing for the mirror. How embarrassing. If Margaret Meade ever did that, it was when she was very, very young. But then, I still qualify as young, so if occasionally I act very, very young, it’s a minor fault. It’s still possible to get some work done, but probably not here. Once I am ready to go, I will go. So I’ll go now.
1980
Just took a 3-hour plumbing break (The ways I find to procrastinate!!) . I am now avoiding styling economics…how history does repeat itself.
Marley went to the vet for her various shots this morning; didn’t care for it. The vet’s nice hound and a crackling fire notwithstanding, she still pooped on the floor and whined alot. I can’t blame her; what is there to like?
Talked to DJ and learned all kinds of things about the search committee last night. Like how I seem to be a shoo-in. That’s all I needed. Self-confidence got a boost, and now I have ample reason to lie about and do nothing for at least day. Perhaps I’d better study for my consumer economics comp.
1997
Mom’s 75th birthday, and I am looking at a picture of myself at 10. I am 10, it is May, and I am in fourth grade. It is the end of fourth grade, and I am standing with my three best friends at my birthday party. I have my first glasses on — pink? blue? — faded to nearly white. I am wearing my second favorite dress: light blue, with white eyelet “ribs” in the front and a pink fabric flower. The fabric was smooth and soft, with a slightly thick hand.
At 10, I had settled in after the traumatic move from Nebraska to New Jersey. I was doing well in school (finally, after a rough 4th grade year), had joined Brownies and made a few friends. We had started going to a church nearby, instead of one in New Milford (the one in NJ, not CT). Guess that was Mom’s search for a non-Missouri Synod church. But the Westwood church was fine, and close.
I look at myself and realize I was still a kid. Within a year, puberty would kick in and Janet (short dark hair in the photo) and I would be the first girls in our class to have breasts. Marney (long hair) and I played “horses”, galloping around the playground, and she showed me the foot positions she learned in ballet class. Sandy (pony tail) moved to Spain the next year.
In another two years, I would be nearly as tall as I am now. My parents weren’t having obvious trouble yet, and my father hadn’t started having his affair with a coworker. I was good in reading, art, and music. I loved art, especially. I had discovered the Little House books and the orange biographies. In my free time, I indulged my love of reading and creating things. I had no curiosity about sex — yet.
Comment 2023
Mom died in 1997, four months after I wrote that entry. My mother’s response to aging was to recite Robert Browning: “Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made.” My father’s response was to have a series of affairs with younger women. Friends have asked me if I watched “Mad Men”, since I am a fashion historian. Nope.
Yes, there’s a bunch of stories buried in those two entries. For now, I will just share pictures.
Happy birthday, Mom.
1998
(Morning pages, abridged)
Just started to write. It is 9:15 on a Thursday morning. I have been up for 2 1/2 hours and have accomplished the following. (List of 10 tasks, most of them took 5 or 10 minutes.) Total 115 minutes, just short of 2 hours. The rest of the time was spent lying in bed, being in the bathroom, or waiting for Kiddo 1 or Kiddo 2. Not bad. Thirty minutes of leisure for two hours of activity. Pathetic, though, when going to th bathroom counts as leisure!
Odd that Sarah thinks that at ten I trusted my instincts. At ten, my world had fallen apart. My father had relocated us from my beloved home in North Platte, Nebraska, to (very) suburban New Jersey. At some time that year he began having a lengthy affair with a coworker. I knew that was going on the first time I laid eyes on her and saw how they acted. Even if I wanted to trust my instincts, I didn’t want to notice them.
2009
Happy 87th birthday, Mom! I’ll never forget.
It’s a gorgeous spring-like day. Windy, more March than February. I wish I could find a good place to sit and watch the wind and sky, but am not sure where that would be. I brought work along on my errands, just in case I had time. The idea of sitting at Sandy Point Park trying to read in high winds seems silly, tho.
2014
Ready for a snow day: plenty of yarn and NO BOOK TO WRITE!
Comment 2024
The day after I sent in the finished manuscript for Book 2.
2024
In May, I will turn 75, the age Mom was when she died. I have already aged past my father. Let me just say how weird that it. IYKYK.