Day 10: Betty Neels, part one

(Edited 1/3/2016 to fix errors pointed out by Betty Anonymous in the comments. Thanks, Betty!)

This post kept getting longer and longer, so I divided it into two. Don't judge. I know there are some of you who are never going to read Betty Neels, but I needed more posts this week and it was already 1500 words and I wasn't even done yet. Eeesh.

I told you I've been reading Betty Neels, prolific author of cookie cutter British romance novels, for months now. I got my original stash when I needed to use up my credits at paperbackswap.com, but they're also available on kindle. There are well over a hundred of them, and I've "only" read about a third. Based on Goodreads reviews, I've read all the good ones, though, so it's probably time to stop.

Day 9: this one is going up late, but it is done

Now that I'm nine days into NaBloPoMo, it occurs to me that the exact same thing happened the last two times I did this. Ahead of time, it sounds like a great idea. I come up with lists of topics to write about, I confidently suppose that other ideas will occur to me as the month goes on.

Then the damn thing actually starts, all my ideas evaporate, and I'm left with a dilemma: bail, or keep writing drivel. I think you know me well enough by now to know that drivel is about to ensue, so bear with me. Since we'll be out of town for four days this week, I need to write six posts in the next two days.

Oh you poor dears.

Day 8: and we lived happily ever after

The post that goes with the previous one is definitely not ready, so on a different topic.... Let's talk about happy endings. Books, stories, movies. I love them. I loved them as a child. I loved them as a teenager.

Then I got to college and learned that happy endings are bad. They're unrealistic. They're sappy and sentimental. They're stupid. The intellectuals surrounding me had nothing but disdain--sneering disdain--for any thing that ended with me smiling and feeling warmly about the human race. Is there any influence that's harder to deflect than sneering disdain?

defining terms

Before I go off on my next idea, I've got some explaining to do. I want to be able to use the word "God," but of course, when I use that word it may mean something entirely different to me than what it means to you, leading to some confusion.

a moment of silence for Jazz

Jazz, our elderly mutt, passed peacefully in her sleep this afternoon. She was so frail and unsteady on her feet for so long that we are equally relieved and sad. She led a good life and we will miss her.

And that's all I've got today.

TBT: I have con-fi-dence in con-fi-dence alooooone

(for throwback Thursday, here is a slightly edited post from October 2011, when I had been through a huge, paralyzing crisis of confidence after going back to grad school in my late forties)

Day 4: in which I explain an off-hand comment in yesterday's post that is bugging me

In yesterday's post, I said something about "when I was in my feminist phase" as if I weren't a feminist anymore. I went back this morning to re-word it--change it to something like "when I was in my enraged feminist phase, as opposed to my current merely irritated feminist phase" (kidding) but it seemed a bit excessive for a list item about toenail polish, and I didn't want to re-publish the post, etc. I know, you're yawning.

Day 3: in which I realize that none of my 14 ideas for posts is any good

I have a list of possible posts for this month. I started it back in September, because I already knew I would do this. I skipped last year because I wasn't blogging at all, but I've done it (NaBloPoMo in November) twice before.

But the problem, as I read over the list, is that they're all serious. There's not a single one that's going to make me smile, let alone you. And we just got done re-watching The Hunger Games and I need to lighten up so I can go to sleep. I hate tense movies, but I got out-voted on what movie to watch tonight, and even though it's tense and sometimes awful to watch, I have to confess that Hunger Games is a good story.

*goes away and thinks for awhile*

OK, I have an idea: a list.

SEVEN THINGS I DO THAT I SWORE I'D NEVER DO:

Mid-Life: the Empty Nest

All around me, friends far and near are sending their kids off to college. We did it with our daughter seven years ago, and we'll be doing it again next year--our son is a senior in high school this year. It's a well-known stage of parenting, just like potty-training, PTA, and surviving The Talk (the birds and the bees one).

It's not an easy thing to do, even if you're ready--and we were; there's nothing like spending a year with a 17-year-old girl to convince you that you're ready for her to move out.  And she was more than ready. We have plenty of other things in our lives to keep us busy and happy and entertained. But it was still like lopping off my left arm and driving away.

Square what circle?

Months ago, not long after I started this blog, I wrote a post about how my wacky midlife hormones had left me angry all the time. Not just vaguely irritated, but spitting-nails-run-for-cover-don't-bother-mom pissed. In fact, when I was trying to figure out a name for the new blog, that was what I started with-- I wanted a title that reflected how downright mad I was about life. My favorite possible title was "Flying the Bird." Because... well, *clears throat* because.

Fortunately, everyone I checked with told me that was a dumb title. Wait, one person said. Do you mean "flying the bird" like "extending your middle finger"? She was a bit unsettled by the idea, but yep, that's what I meant. I'm really glad I didn't go with that, because like all hormonal moments, the constant anger passed, and I would probably be embarrassed now if my blog was called Flying the Bird.

Probably.

So anyway. I had to think of something else, and it occurred to me that Dante's Divine Comedy is really the story of a midlife crisis. Midway through life, he loses his way in a wood, and before you know it there are the gates of Hell before him: "Abandon hope all ye who enter here." I spent a really wonderful semester a few years ago studying Dante, so it was fairly fresh in my mind.

My favorite moment in that long poem cycle is when Dante and his guide Virgil emerge from hell. After long hours of slogging through ever more horrifying scenes of torment, weighed down by the stinking, putrid air, the screams and howls of the damned ringing in their ears, they emerge into fresh, cool night air and the sight of stars twinkling above them.

I wanted a line that reflected that moment, but the actual words "then we came forth, to see again the stars" didn't make much of a title. To See Again the Stars sounds like a cheesy romance novel. Not that I have anything against cheesy romance novels.

So I flipped over to the very end, after Dante has continued his journey through Purgatory and the lower levels of Paradise, until he finally reaches the heavens in all their splendor, a sight so spectacularly gorgeous that words cannot describe it. He likens the dilemma of trying to explain what he sees to the ancient mathematical conundrum of how to square a circle--in other words, an impossible task.

I haven't had any visions of glory (if I do, you'll be the first to know), but I liked the idea-- at midlife, I'm pretty thoroughly aware that trying to get a handle on my experience is beyond me. Way beyond.

But I still try. Hence "To Square a Circle." And then, when I was reading Ulysses last spring, I found the line there, too. And that clinched it. 

I told you in the very first post in this blog that someday I would explain the title, so there you go.

(And p.s. I know I told you we would be out of range today, but the weather turned wet and windy so we ended up staying home.)