July 11

Is perfect too much to ask?

1966 (Mexico)

I was hoping to go to the club to see Antonio, but Mr. and Mrs. D had been out late. So Mr. D and I went to the Torre Latinamerica - 44 stories above Mexico City.

Then we walked back from the tower to Cuauhtémoc blocks and blocks.

I went to school got 95 average on my spelling test . In a spelling bee, I got raices wrong and have to write it 100 times.

Señor C says if I ever want to come and live with them as a daughter, I would only have to pay for transportation. That would be nice! Right now I'm waiting for Mr. D, the fat head. He's talking and talking and talking.

1982

A very nice weekend. Jim is getting more comfortable with Kiddo. It took him longer because he isn’t home most of her day. At first I think he felt clumsy. It didn’t take long before he began to think of me as the “expert” (what a laugh). So letting him feed her at night was a good idea; that’s their meal together now. He still hangs back and doesn’t take the initiative with her, but it’s almost like shyness. He’s not sure how “daddies” act. I think he watches me sometimes to see how I relate to her. When he sees me making goofy faces at her, it seems ok for him to do the same.

I’d like to give Kiddo a brother or sister someday. Even if they would be several years apart, and couldn’t be playmates, they could still love each other. Bob and I were so close growing up. I still think of him often. Too bad he doesn’t write more. He seems so far away now, as far as my childhood.

I’ve been reading a book with lots of big words in it. It makes me feel envious and inarticulate. I know these words, but I don’t use them.

Comment 2023

Jim and I were the babies of our families. I’d done quite a bit of babysitting, but very rarely with infants. So we were absolutely clueless first-time parents. I even had a book of “games to play with your baby”. 

1993 (Wildwood, NJ)

Kiddo 2 is up. Yesterday he was up at 5:30. Today he managed to sleep until six. Since no one else gets up until nine, that means I have to amuse him for at least three hours. Yesterday he played while I snoozed a bit, then we drove around, visited the beach, checked out the boardwalk, generally scouted around. This morning, we had breakfast at Dunkin' Donuts and then I mentioned to him that I am studying toys and games that kids invent. When we got back to camp, he started inventing games. First, he put two plastic bottles on the picnic table and threw his  at them. Then he taped the Koosh paddle to the car window and he practiced throwing at that. Used the Foxtail to do headers. He pitched pennies into plastic bowls and gave himself prizes. That one took the longest to play, because he gave lots of prizes. Now he's back to throwing the Kooshball at the plastic bottles.

1998

I just glanced at my “things to savor this summer” list. So far, I have read a lot, which has been great. Tonight we should eat outside - or maybe tomorrow morning! I do need to get into the garden. Today I visit a museum.

So the summer is in motion, simultaneously speeding by and lulling me into laziness, July 11 already; school looms ahead for the kids.

BUT NOT FOR ME!

The sabbatical thing doesn’t seem quite real yet, as I look a week or so ahead. But then my mind looks ahead to fall and sees the VOID of no courses, and no College Park Scholars. It is excellent.

How do I make the most of this?

Comment 2023

The joy of sabbatical leave. My first had been in 1987-88. Thanks to campus reorganization and being moved to a new department, I had to wait 11 years for my next one. Soooo ready.

1981

A midsummer look at the garden (condensed version):

I planted spinach, sweet frying peppers, two kinds of tomatoes, lettuce, fennel, eggplant, peas,  broccoli, and oregano. Out of ten crops, I should have started six of them at least two weeks earlier. 

Comment 2024

This what happens when a girl from New England tries to garden in Maryland.

2003

I am in the waiting room. Actually, Union Station only has a waiting room if you are a first class passenger. While I am a first class human being (this being one of my good days) I am not traveling first class on this leg of the journey, so here I sit between Gate B and Gate C. Children are crying and wandering around restlessly, and here I sit, waiting.

Oh, I don't want this trip to slip away. I don't want to kill a single minute. This is the rolling retreat of my fantasies, for at least the last two years, since Kiddo 2 and his friend and I traveled across the country together. That was pretty fine, but this needs to be better. Is perfect too much to ask? What would make it perfect?

A finished article

plans for AMST201S 

coming home to a clear house clean house (ha) 

lots of thinking and daydreaming.

Later:

We've been underway for just under two hours, and are somewhere between Harper’s Ferry and Cumberland. The sun is low in the sky and finally dipping below the treetops, which gives my eyes a rest.

I was listening to our Judy Collins CD, close to tears at times, at the memories it stirred up. “My Father”, “In My Life”, even “Marat/Sade”. “Suzanne:, which I never understood except as a glimpse of a love more complex than “Hey, Paula”.

I've been along this route enough times now to pick out the familiarity. Glimpses of hikers and bikers along the towpath. The shock of seeing cornfields less than an hour from Union Station. The rapids of the Potomac near Harper’s Ferry.

Being alone makes me feel very fragile, which takes me by surprise. It is good to not be worried about dogs and kids and meals and stuff. But having no one to talk to is a mixed blessing. It's part of the restfulness of traveling alone: being able to absorb the sights and sounds without interruption. But then I'll think of something I want to tell Jim, and my lonely little soul trembles.

Wow, a nearly full moon!

2004

I am in Stowe, Vermont, and it is delicious. It reminds me of Norway, or Sweden. Very much like Norway, when I was there twenty years ago. (Amazing!) the sun was so brilliant and the flowers all so vivid. The air has a gentle softness that puts me at ease.

The resort has a superb workout facility, where I spent nearly and hour this morning. Then I walked out in search of breakfast, and found a bakery/restaurant that had exactly what I wanted: a yogurt parfait and the best coffee I have had in a long, long time. AND more they had soy crisps in the market, and maple smoked gouda and baby carrots and lavash and very dark chocolate. On my way back to the lodge I stopped by a stream. There is a seating area with a table, and a lone lawn chair set close to the stream. To my right, I can hear the sound of the rapids. To my left, I see a bridge and a small stand of slender birch trees towing toward the stream. I hear birds singing across the river. A plaque explains that the spot is dedicated to a local author, Sandra S. Gameroff (Sandy) loved it. 

Her words:

“There is a great good in returning to a landscape that has had extraordinary meaning in one’s life. We do this in our minds automatically and irresistibly. There are certain villages, towns, mountains, hills, even a turn in the Roa, that having seen them, walked in them, lived in them, even for a day, or having just heard about them, we keep them forever in our mind’s eye.”

My words:

Sandy’s Place

Is that your chair?

Placed a little apart

close by the stream you loved.

Did you listen to the water?

Did the birds call your name?

Did you smile at the longer birch tree

small and slender, leaning toward the stream?

You left your words for me to read and

friends who cherished your memory.

This special place.

2005

Long time no write. I am approaching Chicago on the Capitol Limited, waiting for my annual (?) trip to Marshall Field. My Treo froze up and then gradually ran out of juice, so I had to totally restore it (damn!) The trials and tribulations of technology.

Later: Made it!! Soup and sandwich, with Frango mint ice cream for dessert. Then I managed to find a jacket (blue linen, very nice) and a sweater on sale. Also got some clip-on sunglasses, having somehow lost my prescription ones. ($:($$) I am exahusted.

2016

A busy week has passed; busier than I had expected or planned. Jim is upset, sometimes sullen, sometimes irritable. I am desperate for solitude and less worry. Last night I was awake for an hour with an uncomfortable sensation in my chest. Indigestion? Heart attack? Anxiety? I admitted to the healing circle that I am no good at caregiving. Not for myself, not for others. I am my father's child. The coldhearted bastard with the deceptively genuine smile and sense of humor. A charming reptile.

Flash fiction is a fun way to capture scenes from a larger, unknown narrative. I wish I could write more. But they come when they come. Can they actually grow into short shorties? A play?

This morning is errand day. Dentist. Auto recall service. Emission inspection. Milk and half and half.Gas? Yes, gas. And a walk to Starbucks from Darcars and back.

Shah Rukh Khan was answering questions on Twitter this morning. My obsession with him is ten months old now, less ardent but still going strong. I see a film, video or image of him everyday. That nose!  Those eyes, those dimples, the neck, the eyebrows. Those hands! His ears! The perfection of each visible detail makes me wonder about the parts I cannot see.

This is a very busy Starbucks for such a small outlet. Lots of bar seating and only a few small tables. There are tables outside, which I briefly considered. But it is already too hot, even in the shade. Ah, July in DC! There is nothing to love about it except the long days. I hope Jim gets news about his surgery today, and that it is good news. 

2019

I just had to leave Starbucks. 90 minutes of work on the Sears images did me in. Actually, it was my butt that was done in. So time for a shift to the softer seating and larger tables of Whole Foods. We need bananas, anyway.

Oh my, Jim. Another ball dropped. I don’t understand this side of him, even after 52 years. Or I half understand it. I hate phones, too. I commit to things I don’t want to do. I hate to ask for help. Yes, yes yes. But I have been working on improving since I was in grad school in Rhode Island forty odd years ago. 

Comment 2023

We’re fine, friends. Not perfect, but fine. Marriage takes work, even after 50 years.

2024

If previous years are any indication, July 11 can be a pretty busy day. At least it’s 85 degrees instead of 95, and I scored both Moby Dick (paperback) and Billy Budd (DVD) at the library.

That’s enough for you to read, so have a nice picture. It’s a year old, but I found it today.

Also: yay, Isaac!