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Maine memory

March—Mud Month—was a good time to bail out of Maine. Every car I had got stuck constantly. You could park on rock, go to sleep, and in the morning it would be mired in mud. March was when my penchant for mechanics came in handy. Pretty soon Schoodic Sam the Sunoco Man, among others, quit waiting for me to call for help, and would just come over with a truck and winch of a morning. It was sad for both of us that I didn't want to get married and have his many babies.  Read More 
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Oh look, here's me as a young fighter around the turn of the last century.

Possibly the last time I wore a dress.

I still like to put on the gloves but now I injure my shoulder whenever I do.

But c'mon, I'm 129 years old.

I was a southpaw in my youth.

There's so much I didn't know about me. Read More 
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Not New York

Stonington, Connecticut.
Every once in a while I think how nice it would be to be somewhere else. Sea breeze... charming houses... really good tomatoes, hot off the vine. A couple of years ago I took the ferry & train to Tottenville, Staten Island, which is the farthest point you can go from Times Square and still be in New York City. I had read a book called Last Train to Tottenville, although I half-think  Read More 
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Why a horse?
* What's the deal with recurring dreams? Why does mine involve the Detroit airport? I drive a big circuit from Texas to Cleveland and back in another one.

* Accents: Why do some seem coarse or low-class? I often think that I would never have gone out with Johnny if he had a dese-dem-dose Bronx accent. Will my Norwegian get good enough that I can pick out the thugs from the wrong side of the Oslo tracks?

* How come I remember—frequently—random unimportant things from a million years ago? I remember  Read More 
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Dolls, part II (hanging out with little girls)

Classic: cutting doll hair.
I love to be reminded that people have full personalities even when they are barely begun. These kids certainly do, as do my karate peewees. I just follow their lead. They have their concerns & thoughts, and I only have to ask a follow-up question. I like seeing timelessness kid behavior: Little girls almost always cut their dolls' hair. I don't remember doing that (didn't have dolls): I cut my own hair when I was 5 (& still do). My mother was so appalled (& still is) that I blamed the little girl next door (Kathy Koons, I apologize!). To this day, my mother thinks of her as a sneak & terrible person (even though I long since 'fessed up). Read More 
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Dolls, part I

Karen showed me & her daughters (ages 7 and 4) a short video of an Australian woman who wiped the makeup off a line of dolls called Bratz, then painted normal child faces on the dolls. It really made you wonder why little children would want to play with stripper dolls.

Then she asked her girls if they wanted to try doing the same thing to their Barbies. It was remarkably easy to get the makeup off with nailpolish remover. (The final face looks less crazy because Karen gave her an eyelid.)  Read More 
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Testament of Youth

Women did a lot of knitting when their men went off to war.
Pleased that Vera Brittain's Testament of Youth, a book I have read & recommended many times, is now an excellent, devastating, film. Most of the people I have pressed it on probably never read it but maybe they'll see the movie.

WHEN I WAS A GIRL at St. Monica's and in Buxton, I imagined that life was individual, one's one affair; that the events happening in the world outside were important enough in their own way, but were personally quite irrelevant. Now, like the rest of my generation,  Read More 
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Not grateful, after all

I'm not grateful for sore throat (most of all), sore shoulder, sore thumb, sore hip, sore knees.

I'm not grateful for losing my sunglasses, my pen, my mind.

Nope, not grateful. (However, I do really like the bracelet Vee gave me.)
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Small confession

The quicker I get this written, the faster I can go hang out with my sister Varda, who's in town for just a couple of days. Naturally, thinking about running over there—she stays at the Comfort Inn on Ludlow Street, the best hotel bargain in NYC, with a lovely staff—makes it harder  Read More 
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What I'm reading

It's really too hot to read but I try to get a page in here & there:
* Elly Griffith's mystery series about an English forensic archaeologist, Ruth Galloway, who is in her 40s, has a baby, is overweight (she remarks upon it frequently) & yet all the men are hot for her. Because they appreciate smart, funny, &  Read More 
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