June 21, 2004

• Monday Musings

  
  

  Tucker is painting, his grandmother is not thrilled because she's worried that there will be paint spilled.  I asked him what he's painting.  "It's one of God's beautiful creatures," he says.  "The only problem is I don't know whether its a bird or a human."

  
  

  They came this morning and picked up my car.  I only drove the car for six weeks before the accident, and now it's gone.  And that's not nearly enough time to get attached to a vehicle, but I do hate that it's out of my life so quickly.  Until the check arrives and I'm able to replace it, I have a rental.  When I talked to them, I requested something small and modest.  I got a Dodge Dakota truck.  Its not the worst vehicle I could be driving, the worst would have been if they had rented me a Harley, because I have a major motorcycle fantasy.  But not far behind the bike dream, is the truck dream.  Just sliding UP into the seat was enough to make my little heart pound like mad.  Yes, it's going to be a fun week.  If everything goes well, I should have my insurance settlement in hand by Friday.  Once I get it, I'll be driving a little red car ... which is not the worst thing I could be driving, because it's not a little red Italian car. 

  
  

  Yesterday I wrote about the books I'm reading.  I can't believe it's taken me SO long to get to The Red Tent and I'm loving it.  The writing is crisp and vivid.  The characters, because I'm already familiar with the Biblical account seem both familiar and exotic.  To be able to write the story of a family with four wives and not have it seem bizarre is quite a feat. 

  
  

  Stephanie made a comment on that blog about having difficulty appreciating "women's literature" because it seems so much about the relationship between mother's and daughters and especially the sacrifices of mothers.  I haven't sought out much in the "chick lit" line, but I'm hoping that it is about much more than this.  The themes of women's lives in the broader sense are the same as the themes of all literature, we wrestle with God, with each other, and with ourselves.  But the way that women approach the battle is different from the way that men fight.  I think there are stories and myths that should and must be told from a woman's voice in order to express the rich fullness of human experience.  Certainly pregnancy and birth are a part of women's lives, as are the regular waxing and waning cycles we experience driving us from dark to light, depth to height, dullness to creativity and despair to ecstasy with only the vehicle of our normal body rhythms - well, our body rhythms and chocolate ...

  
  

  It's nothing new to say that female rhythm is different from male rhythms and patterns.  Women's bodies live a 13 month year, in a world that follows a 12 month calendar.  In some ways it's like trying to fit into an alternate reality a la the sci-fi channel's mind warping thought experiments. 

  
  

  Well, speaking of alternate realities, a storm is blowing in so I must log off my computer in hopes that it won't be blown up by lightning.  I'll be back later to try to finish this thought.

  
  

   

  • 3:56 pm
  • 14 Comments