Monday, January 16, 2012
Hi sweetheart, up in the aerie, aroma of roasting chicken wafting up the stairs. I managed finally to capture a shot of the woodpecker that visits the suet feeder - and, as at LaGuardia, a bluejay evidently awaiting its turn. I have an ivory cashmere, three-quarter sleeved, pearl-buttoned sweater that I've slept in, as an extra layer, for several winters, and it's finally given out, between machine-washings and my thrashings about at night. It's "too good" to throw out though, that lovely soft wool, so I've been tearing off thin strips & shreds of it, and experimentally draped a few such strands in the bare branches of a maple sapling in the front yard, thinking that perhaps birds might like it to 'feather their nests,' as they build them. It's a good thing that Darwinian evolution tends to occur on a lengthier time scale... because I'd hate to think of a generation or two of birds hatched & bred in the lap of plush luxury, only to find that the 'real world' isn't lined with cream cashmere. On a much lighter note, I imagine sightings, in Columbia County over the coming seasons, of beautiful bird nests, made of twigs, grasses, expertly, incredibly, beautifully, so compactly woven round & round... perfect cupped centers, interwoven with of all things... pale cashmere.
I am very used to cashmere myself... it takes only an instant to become accustomed to such fine, sensual luxuries, at least for me.
I'm feeling a nice sense of well-being. Although a bit topsy-turvy. I'm glad I've lost weight, I'm fairly fit, and trim. How potent are those multi-vitamins? I thought I was in menopause, but today... perhaps not, a bit of spotting anyway. The body is so mysterious, isn't it? Mine is, to me, certainly. I'm very glad I have the luxury of time & space to lead really a very nice life, with good foods, & exercise. When I worked full-time--- I couldn't get it together, I let myself go. It was like centrifugal force, or forces, spinning out. I could be good at my job. But then other things got let go. My body, mostly, as I hit middle age -- I had been ruinously abusive of it through most of my twenties, and into my thirties - especially with smoking. And also not having a clue whatsoever, as to proper nutrition.
I don't mean to rail at my mother (internally I often do, and she had a great many extenuating circumstances). I wasn't the 'chosen one' - the one deemed to have a long slim body, and accorded swim lessons. I definitely didn't learn proper nutrition from her. Actually the idea I had from her was that all calories were essentially fungible. She didn't know better, had come from a very hard place, growing up during WWII, bleak Catholic boarding school on her own after. Marriage to who turned out to be my father.
I didn't learn principles of good nutrition, exercise -- a comfortability and acceptance and nurturing of one's own body -- not from her. She died at age 58 of colon cancer, many years ago now, when I was around 30. I do believe she did the best she could by me -- and yet it simply wasn't adequate enough, the lessons, for the challenges that this rather relentless (unless one has exquisite supports, in some way - whether it's family, or capital, or an exploitative personality) culture demands.
Would I have made a good mother? I don't know. I wish -- on some level, but truthfully I have always had ambivalence around this question -- that I might have experienced motherhood. I never chose it for myself, because I could never seem to quite set up the right warunki -- conditions, circumstances, feathered nest - even if not lined in found cashmere. Working, as much at 'careers' as I could - I felt that I barely had the time & energy to take care of myself, let alone a little one. Perhaps circumstances, dynamics, would have shifted had I had a baby. I'm not so sure. I think I always felt in the back of my mind that my energies were limited - and that I definitely couldn't 'do it all.'
I was working outside the home, & cleaning the house, D & I shopped for & cooked most of our meals, didn't have a car, didn't go away on vacations (sometimes we did, but not usually), were in a one-bedroom.
How could I have fulfilled that other aspect of myself?
And so it didn't happen
And it turns out -- we'll have been here seven years in April --
I'm amazed by that number, seven years already here --
he & I were never on the same page in terms of dreams
'mountains of forgotten dreams' (was that you?)
as it turned out
but here we are - nonetheless
I have to run downstairs to put the roasting root vegetables
and the chicken no doubt now done
and that's it, my dearest Bacchus,
my Jonas Salk
are you my second? I don't know...
I keep trying to decipher those page hits
though not too too hard
good night my dear Steve McQueen
i can see the red tail lights
heading for Spain