Before the Predicted Snow

The Group -- An Anthropological Study

Mary McCarthy's 1963 bestseller The Group traces the complicated post graduation lives and loves of eight members of the Vassar class of '33. Most are wealthy and privileged and most of the action is in and around New York City. The characters are complex and engaging -- even if you occasionally want to shake them.

Nonetheless, it's a reminder of how things were in the Thirties, Forties, and Fifties. These were women of my mother's generation and re-reading this book for the first time in many years has given me a better understanding of those times. . . and my mother.

From politics to psychiatry to various theories of child raising and, most especially to the sexual mores of the time, it's a fascinating read. 

The book was actually banned in some countries for its matter of fact discussion of birth control -- which, at the time these girls graduated, was illegal in various states or limited to married women with their husband's permission. Not that long ago, folks, and it could happen again. 

On a lighter note, there are the clothes - girdles and stockings, hats and furs and white gloves. And the amusing little dinner parties on a newly wed's budget -- spaghetti or canned clams on toast, or something called tuna wiggle. 

Old times they are not forgotten -- nor are they regretted by me.

PS -- re yesterday's procedure -- one polyp was found and removed -- making all the unpleasantness so worthwhile!

The Flowers That Bloom in the Spring, Tra La . . .

The Procedure

I'm booked for a routine colonoscopy tomorrow. No big deal -- I've done this before. And having lost several friends to colon cancer, I don't even hesitate. I just lay in a supply of broth and jello and clear liquids for today . . .

. . . and resign myself to the inevitable after I consume the prescribed Colyte -- as the cheery brochure says, " It is not uncommon to frequent the toilet dozens (dozens!) of times during the prep.

Just think of it as spring cleaning.

Random Spring

For the Journey

I love this little book.  Gaiman had already whispered the words in my ear -- they are found in one of his collections that I have on Audible -- but Charles Vess's wonderful illustrations illuminate the journey through a land that is a composite of all the fairy tales and myths that I grew up reading.

I'm already imagining reading this to my granddaughter -- once she's old enough to know some of the fairy tales referenced in the picture below.  I see Puss in Boots, the Giant from Jack and the Beanstalk, Little Red Riding Hood, the Three Little Pigs, Cinderella's pumpkin coach and her glass slipper, the Little Goose Girl. the Frog Prince, and are those the White Rabbit's ears I spy?

This beautiful little book absolutely captivated me in a way I find hard to explain. The instructions are simple and explicit -- "if any creature tells you that it is hungry, feed it . . . trust the wolves but do not tell them where you are going. . . Trust your heart and trust your story . . ."

In the Land of Hypnopompia

Floating between sleep and morning light, rapt in a hypnopompic trance, I am half-consciously determining to step from night to day. As  I roll over, about to open my eyes and sit up,  I catch a glimpse of a door – half-open or half shut? – with people beyond it.

 And I have the instant conviction that I am seeing another life, one that I had been in the midst of and from which I had chosen, perhaps a bit unwillingly, to return. Another world, complete with past and future. 

And life there was nothing but sweet.

Mixed Bag

Making Room for Baby

Some years ago I told my daughter-in-law Claui that if they ever did have a baby, I would do day care. And now it looks as if it will come to pass in a few months. The little girl is due in May and Claui will have some maternity leave but sooner or later, I'll be designated baby sitter.

John and I have signed up for an evening class at the hospital for infant caregivers  -- it's been almost forty years since I took care of a baby and I know things have changed -- sleeping face up or face down? Baby powder, yes or no? Asafoetida bag around the neck? (Just kidding.)

I know that paregoric is no longer used to calm a fractious baby --  when my first was born it was issued at the hospital as part of a care package for new mothers and I have to say it worked quite well and seems to have had no lingering after effects on Ethan.

But I look forward to becoming up-to-date in child care. 

Meanwhile, I've been making room in one of my dresser drawers for a whole slew of infant clothes and products that Claui brought up for me to have on hand. Onesies and diapers and bibs and butt paste, oh my!

I can hardly wait!

A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall

 

Spring Cleaning as OT

How much do I hate dealing with tax stuff? Enough so that rather than finish up yesterday, I got into Spring cleaning. I began in a bedroom -- vacuuming under and behind things, taking all the books out of a bookshelf to vacuum them and clean the shelves too, culling some of the books of the 'I'll never read/finish/re-read this one' variety (not a large stack but I've got about nine more book shelves to go  -- they're in almost every room.)

 

I even got into a bathroom cabinet, full of those little bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and various lotions that I couldn't resist bringing home from hotel stays. Most of them were five to ten years old, half used and not very appealing so I bravely tossed them, along with some patchouli essential oil (what was I thinking when I bought that?)

It's a start  -- there are drawers to sort through and windows to wash before I even finish this one room. But the stretching and bending and shoving is all good therapy. 

And getting rid of stuff is good for the soul.  I'm trying to move past the 'this might come in handy someday' mindset to the 'does this bring me joy?' question. Or, failing that, 'one more thing the kids won't have to deal with when I'm gone.'