Day Two Hundred and Thirty Eight
Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes Page: 320 Finished
The Woman Warrior, China Men by Maxine Hong Kingston Page: 541
Maxine Hong Kingston’s prose is amazing. Haunting, powerful, fanciful. And I love the photo of her on the cover of the Everyman’s edition. You might not be able to see it well, but she looks wild and wise in it.
I feel like sharing photos today so here are the boys, getting used to colder weather one early morning last week.
And here is what the windstorm brought us this evening.
Among today’s adventures, I tried donating plasma. It’s not really “donating” because they “compensate you for your time”. I couldn’t handle it. It’s not because I’m a wimp about needles (I’m really not anymore). I couldn’t handle the social awkwardness of it. I’m not sure if I’m hypersensitive, a snob or what, but between the indifference of the employees (and who could blame them) and the hopelessness of the average donor I didn’t stay. It took me two tries just to make it in the door. The building was more than a little grim and the waiting room was FULL of people who stared as you walked up. Once inside there was more staring and some intrusive comments and questions from others there waiting. I’m a fairly private person* and I really hate it when complete strangers – especially male ones – start talking to you out of the blue. I waited two hours before I was called (not a bad thing since I read) and then had to answer all the harrowing and offensive questions that the AIDS epidemic made necessary. Finally I was taken to a room for my basic physical and I was so chilled from the cold waiting room that the thermometer didn’t even register my presence. I was told that I could wait fifteen minutes to see if I warmed up but I couldn’t go outside…so was I supposed to do jumping jacks? Anyway, I fled at that point. I felt demeaned by the whole experience. I guess I won’t be selling my eggs or anything…I wonder what the key issue is. Is it modesty? Sensibility? Mere squeamishness?
*I know, I know, I blog…but it still freaks me out a bit when someone recognizes me from my blog or from the few times my photograph has been in our local paper. And the internet depersonalizes things just enough that I don’t have to be bosom friends with everyone that drops by.