“The Shawl” by Cynthia Ozick is the next book up in my daughter’s class. Particularly wretched to have to consider a baby, without milk, drawing on the sustenance of a magic shawl, until it no longer matters; a baby electrified, a scarf to cut the screams. And the view from Florida a lifetime away, and the same piece of fabric shows up. I sat and read it all through in one long segue there in the bathroom.
The skiing is amazing today. There’s snow now to cover the rough hard pack that had been punctuated with a thousand foot steps and frozen over anew. It doesn’t matter now. All the cervices are filled with powder. It’s easy to find a firm base and lightly covered so all cuts smooth. Staring at the trees, making some good progress, considering that I have just walked out my back yard and spent absolutely nothing, it occurs to me that I enjoy this in manner that no longer feels inferior to downhill skiing, where there is a racing rush, certainly but a completely different pacing and pricing. Quite happy to be out here today.
And I’m not sure, how but I gauged the time wrong and I’ve only a minute or two to dash up the hill and get online. I manage to call the friend who has helped to organize the call on his landline, when the Zoom app wont launch that I'll be a few minutes late. I’m not critical for more than glue. But that’s just what you want at the beginning of the call. I try to catch my breath so I won’t be panting when I finally connect.
If you start a conference with the video on, is it necessary then to leave it on? I had my video on at the outset. Some other people do. The people presenting do. I notice my posture and I raise my chin. It seems to look good but then I catch a glimpse and think it looks preposterous. If you don’t have the video on and you mute, no one cares. But it’s a statement if you turn off your visage. For a while I look at myself looking off, ponderously and then decide I will cut my camera and fold my shirts as I listen.
Wednesday, 02/24/21
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