The Pits and Pieces

  There comes a time when one can no longer ignore the dust bunnies happily multiplying in the corners. The day finally arrived. All my arguments for procrastinating this odious task could no longer hold water. I hauled out the vacuum cleaner and cleaning supplies. What finally did it was guilt. Not guilt that I was ignoring domestic chores, there’s no guilt in that. But guilt that I had come up short on another commitment. I thought I was done with feeling guilty about social obligations. Apparently not. The social etiquette on which we are raised have deep roots. I was all set to go to a celebratory lunch across town, gift wrapped (okay, not wrapped but in a gift bag) and waiting by the door. But Saturday morning brought thickly falling snow outside my window and slick, white-covered roads. Checking the forecast, I saw my end of town was scheduled to clear by early afternoon, but T.O. had a weather advisory and I had to drive clear across and further up. I’m not a fan of winter dri

  Oh, this book, THE SPACE BETWEEN US, by THRITY UMRIGAR. It grabbed and squeezed my heart and triggered all kinds of memories. Bhima and Sera are two women in India, worlds apart in their status in life, one living in the slums, the other in a fancy, spacious upper-middle-class apartment. One an illiterate servant, the other her educated mistress. And yet, they find common ground as they work side by side. They are linked in their shared humanity and suffering, their servitude in their roles as women in a system that firmly divides classes, genders, and status in life. We are drawn into both worlds, the quiet dignity with which Bhima carries herself in her slum dwelling, and Sera’s world of wealth and power but also hopelessness and longing. * When I lived in Bahrain, every two years we visited Karachi for two months during the school summer holidays. My parents were born and raised there where we had many relatives, and the company my father worked for in the Gulf, paid our fares

  Recently, I read or heard this line somewhere: Erase your lines, erase your life. Ageism, as we who are aging (but aren't we all really?) know, is alive and well. If women show their lines, wrinkles, and aging bodies, people either turn away or say, “How brave”. Why do we consider them brave? Because they’re daring to be vulnerable in the face of what will surely be judgment? The other day, I watched the movie, Good Luck to You, Leo Grande in which the fabulous Emma Thompson plays a widow who has led a very predictable, boring and uneventful life. Wanting to break out of it and do something daring, she rents a hotel suite and hires a young, male sex worker. Aside from discovering her sexuality at this third act in her life, the two have in-depth and revealing conversations about family relationships and expectations. Spoiler alert, they don’t fall in love and ride off into the sunset. That would be a bit far-fetched and would defeat, I think, the central theme of the movie, whi

  January, the longest month of the year, is behind us. Okay, so there are other months with 31 days. (Thirty days hath September etc.) But, think about it – all the other long months have something going for them: March is the harbinger of Spring. July and August? They’re summer months and very few object to long summer months. October has vibrant fall. December has the good will and cheer of Christmas gatherings and other celebrations. But January, poor bleak January, has nothing going for it. And this past January especially was filled with long stretches of cold, grey days. Sure, there were a couple of days of sunshine and beautiful snowfalls. But those days were scattered, just an elusive, meager smattering. So, what got you through January? These were some of the things that did it for me: - My usual activities of tennis and pickleball and lunchtime swimming in a deserted pool. There’s something luxurious about floating on your back, alone, in a pool of water, where all t