The Markovian theory of the seasons. He says Wing has passed and we are currently into Sprinter. Golly I hope so. Has been 60 degrees here for the past two days. I took the opportunity to dig out more of the driveway. Snowed a skiff last eve and is supposed to snow off and on for the next five days. sigh No more digging for awhile.
I am very class conscious. And I hate it. I am not comfortable with folks who have been gently reared. There are several couples I would like to get to know better but I am put off by their wealth and style. I just can't relax around them. I keep expecting I will eat peas with my knife and be judged accordingly. I wish I would stop this but it seems to be bred in the bone.
I now have most of the personal accoutrement's of a middle class woman. I usually appear fairly knowledgeable and relaxed in company. It is an act. I feel less than because of my background. It is not my illegitimate birth that bugs me, or my crazy mother, nor my stint in foster homes. I am kind of proud of surviving all of that. It is the opportunities I missed that make me feel bad. All the things I don't know how to do, and all the things I do know how to do. For instance: I can put together and take apart an industrial mop and bucket with lightening speed. I should be able too, I mopped a nursing home every night for years. I lately had an opportunity to display this knowledge amidst a group of people who appeared to be astounded at my skill. I can unload mouse traps right quick too. I can unclog toilets and carry off dead cats. I can dig post holes, turn a compost pile and stick my hand inside a cow to pull on leg. I could do all of this by the time I was fifteen. But I can't f**king play bridge, read music or ski. I have never been out of the country and have never lived in a house with a dishwasher or a water softener. And I am fat.
None of this should matter. I am fifty-one years old and God has been good to me. I have so many blessings I can't count them all. And yet...I still persist in feeling bad at choir practise when I have to imitate the person beside me because I can't read the notes. I feel bad at dinner parties when everyone discusses the myriad places they have been and I realize I was working nights while they all were exploring Europe. I feel common when a friend blushes while discussing child birth and I am familiar with all the permutations of a human body. I have gone from degradation to the sublime in my years. I want to value the depth and breadth of my life as a great good fortune.
But sometimes I don't. Stoopid card parties.
Take care. Love Bea