Wednesday, June 18, 2003

My boyfriend, the Unschooler.

Last night, Will asked me to choose a book for him to read. His only specification was that it not be a biography of Nathanael West. I gleefully brought him The Day I Became An Autodidact and shyly asked if it was all right. Are my adverbs conflicting? I don't care, it was how it was. Anyway, he read about a chapter before we went to bed, where he switched to one of the books in the Series of Unfortunate Events, which he reads to me every night. We finished the first book last night. And I could not be further off topic if I tried. What was I talking about?

Oh, hell, doesn't matter. I've just read a Miss Manners column, which made me think of something else. But first, I shall quote my favorite response:

Dear Miss Manners,
Is it incorrect to have candles on a buffet table in the daytime?

Gentle Reader,
No, only to light them.

I am too lazy to look up the html for an indented quotation.

Anyway, reading Miss Manners reminded me of something I was thinking about earlier: the women of my generation do not practice any of the traditional hobbies that women of previous generations did. Presumably this is because we have jobs and equality and all that, so knitting and bridge aren't our only options, but...Well, I think it's a shame. Not that I don't want jobs and equality and all that junk, but that I appreciate tradition in some aspects, and wish there were more renaissance ladies out there. I can only think of one person my age (among my friends) who knits. I can crochet and sew, but I don't often.

I know I'm not expressing myself very well, but I think I can go on to say that this is only a small part of my dissatisfaction with modern American culture. I know very few people with a good appreciation for opera (I include myself here - never really understood it), or ballet, or really any form of art or entertainment that has been around for more than 100 years. Not to mention that people think there is an actual cocktail called an apple martini! I'm terribly sorry, gentle reader, but it is only a martini if it is gin and vermouth.

My goodness, don't I sound grumpy? I swear I'm not. Just scatter-brained.