July 20

I have no illusions about any “good old days”. There were only the Oblivious Old Days.

1966 (Mexico)

Went to a glass factory and silver factory. Got 2 families of little glass animals - donkey and dog - for 80 centavos a apiece, and two pins - a swan and a fish - for 72 centavos.

Marcia: dogs

Terese: swans

Marty: fish

Me: burros

1982

The library work is going slowly. There seems to be damn little written about boys, boyhood, etc. The lack of information is extremely frustrating.

On the other hand, Kiddo is doing very nicely and I believe I have finally settled into a bit of a routine. How nice. I haven’t been resting as much as I should, most days, which is very naughty.

Comment 2023

One of the reasons I’m doing this project is to do research for my OTHER project, which is a collection of essays about my work on clothing and gender. Every once in a while, I interrupted my whining about my weight and my lack of time (or overstuffed schedule) to comment about my scholarly efforts. In 1980, I had finished my dissertation on men’s clothing 1880-1910 and was striking out in several directions, looking for my next research project. One of the puzzles in the dissertation was this: just when men were abandoning older styles for the plainer, less-fitted sack suit (business suit), little boys were wearing fancier outfits, including the Lord Fauntleroy suit. I imagined some interesting family discussions in the late 1880s and early 1890s. So I went looking for more information on boyhood and boys’ clothing from those times. Practically nada. Down the rabbit hole I went, and never came out.

1983

My third start at writing - -  Kiddo is after the pen. It’s 10 AM.

So far I’ve read to her 3 times, watched Lilias yoga and even *did* some yoga. I did the dishes, made the bed and measured the basement bedroom (soon to be my office). I also vacuumed and dusted the living room. Now it’s time to make a list:

Toys R Us for diapers and lunchbox

Eat lunch

Nap 1/2 hour

Work on boys’ clothing outline

Get sitter for CM

Pool

One other thing, if Kiddo is amenable.

Comment 2023

Lilias! In the 70s and 80s, my personal guides were the PBS trinity: Julia Child (cooking), Jim Crockett (Gardening) and Lilias Folan (yoga). How I miss them all. Though of course, I don’t have to. (Link to "Postures for a Desert Island" on PBS.org.)

1984 (Denmark)

I’m here! I have to keep pinching myself, but I really am here in Copenhagen. Not only that, but I really did:

Change my money

Take the bus from the airport, not a taxi

Find the housing kiosk and get a room and find the hotel (!)

Buy lunch from a non-English speaking vendor

So now here I am, biding my time waiting for my room to be ready. Only 1 1/2 days left here. Time to plan!

Today:

   Check in, get camera out of suitcase

   Walk to the National Museum

   Find a place to have dinner.

Tomorrow:

   Breakfast

   Check bags at the station

   Wander around downtown, then visit Tivoli until 10 pm, then go to train station.

Later - 

I ran into PM at the National Museum! She’s going to the conference, too. She invited me to join her for dinner, but I declined. Her hotel is in the opposite direction and I was already footsore. Besides, she’s not at the top of my Favorite People list. Anyway, I didn’t come all this way to meet Americans, much less Americans I already knew too well.

I am so homesick now and then. I thought I would feel free and full of my own thoughts. But instead I feel detached and empty. Well, it’s probably jet lag, too. I do miss my family. If I knew they were ok that would help, but that’s really not possible. It’s just after lunch in Maryland now. What are they doing?

I knew I was in Denmark and not in the US when all the mechanics and baggage guys at the airport were Vikings instead of Black guys or Hispanics. There seem to be more foreigners than Danes here. Where are they all?

The textiles I saw at the National Museum had such wonderful textures. Many kinds of woven designs, even in the folk costumes.

Time for more aspirin.

Midnight -

On the flight over I slept 3 hours. This afternoon, after checking in, I slept another 2. Then, before dinner, another hour or so. Now another five. So there’s my nine hours for yesterday, as last. I am still sleepy. Or at least dopey. A clock is chiming somewhere.

I remember my first glimpse of land this morning: rolling dark green hills with no houses, no roads, not airports. Maybe it was Scotland; no signs either. It is a treat to be alone with my own thoughts, to be free to follow my own schedule. Why, I’ve gone to the bathroom a dozen times without having to tell someone!

I just imagined I heard Kiddo singing the Sesame Street theme.

Comment 2023

My first trip outside North America! No internet, no cell phones, none of the things that make travel easier today. I was so proud of myself for even getting there!

1998

A week to try to redeem myself. I have been too busy or too distracted to keep my eye on my goals. So I dropped the exercise, let go of my research, etc. Even now my thoughts flit around, keeping me from even this stupid writing meditation. It seems amazing that I actually wrote three pages a day this winter. I should try for at least two now, especially when I run into internal resistance.

It’s funny how I find myself staring at women who look like Mom. I see them now and then, curved and slight, gray-haired, and I know without touching them that their skin is dry, cool, and very soft. Old people’s skin is so beautiful. The wrinkles are an illusion, making their hands and faces look rough and hard. But her skin felt like a rose petal, So thin, so delicate.

Comment 2023

Now my hands are wrinkled and soft. It happens. I wrote a poem about it in 2019.

Vulnerability

My hand, once plump and smooth with baby dimples.
Seventy years of use: writing, soothing, kneading, scrubbing, digging.
Sunlight and shadows reveal my vulnerability. 
My heart knows it was always there, beneath the surface.
Waiting.

2002

Kiddo 2 and I had a swell trip to Chicago. (Though I think he got tired of having me around.) U Chicago was lovely and intellectually exiting. Not quite Kiddo’s cup of tea, I think. But there’s lots of time.

I have re-done the reading corner of my bedroom - - oh, how I like it!! There is a bigger bookshelf and Mom’s comfy chair ( the brown rocker). I can put my feet up and read or write. And I have nearly finished sorting out the upstairs office, a truly fearsome task.

I am almost done with the WebCT article. It will be done before UUMAC.

Comment 2024

Kiddo 2 was just finishing his second year of high school, so it was a little soon for college decisions. Still, it was important to me that both kids saw other colleges besides the one where I worked. UChicago certainly was different!

2003 (Amtrak Empire Builder, eastbound)

We’ve left the mountains behind, and a day of rolling high plains lies ahead. And beautiful sky. Time to get to work again on writing. What a luxury! Nearly two full days of writing/planning time.

5:15 pm

I looked back at “what I wanted to accomplish” from a few days ago, and of course I didn’t do EITHER to completion. Not having access to the questions article pretty much scotched that, and whatever did I mean by “AMST201S”? An entire syllabus? A sense of the plan? I have started on that, and it was a good start, but the course still feels kinda amorphous. The REAL next step is doing the reading list, at least the required reading, and I would like to have not only a syllabus but the first month’s classes planned by August 30.

Man, I love my compartment. Tomorrow night I travel coach. Boo hoo hoo. That’s what I get for being so cheap!

2016

So. I am suspended. Waiting, waiting, and more waiting. Waiting for the fridge repair guy. Waiting for the car to be fixed. Waiting for Jim to be discharged. It would be a nice day for a walk, but I can’t leave while I am waiting for the repair guy. I should be reading and taking notes but I am suspended eight feet above my desk and can’t reach the books. Just kidding.

Waiter, waiter! Wait, that’s me! So here I am, waiting. Just hanging out, unable to start, continue, or finish anything. My mind is buzzing with last night’s RNC convention. So much hate. So little thought. So little conscience. And don’t even start with Jill Stein. She does not impress me. Oh, God, why am I trying to write a book every time we have an election? SMDH. Maybe it’s because we seem to always be having an election.

NOW I am exhausted. The fridge guy was here. He set the fridge on defrost and ordered a part. 3-5 days. I couldn’t find the paperwork for the fridge. But I am going to make it. So tired. So stressed. Still more to do. Just not what I had planned. I may snap. I need a sense of humor bad. A good laugh.

2023

And here we are again, squeezed between the midterm elections and the next Big One, trying to stay civil and sane. I have no illusions about any “good old days”. There were only the Oblivious Old Days. Forgive me, but some days I long for senility.

2024

Staying civil is easy; sanity is more of a challenge. More Indian movies required, and maybe the Olympics.