Three days past Tuesday and I still have rubber legs. Still need to cover my right eye most of the time. We have had such glorious sunny fall days lately, I’ve been taking to wearing sunglasses indoors. My eye is still a bit light sensitive, for sure.
I’m not used to being so passive, both needing help now to take Lila for walks and basically doing not much myself. I live in the most wonderful neighborhood, have the best neighbors and friends. One took me in the Halifax early Tuesday morning, another friend brought me home from Halifax in rush hour, no less, and another one comes by to take Lila for a walk. She is finding me a bit boring these days.
Since it will be a week yet before I can get back into my studio, I’ve been lying on my living room couch, picking away at the ukulele. It is, believe It or not, a versatile, giving instrument. If you don’t believe me, check out James Hill! My uke has a lovely sound and is a bit easier to carry around than my grand piano.
On another note, I, like so many other Canadians, am thrilled to hear Alice Munro won the Nobel Prize for Literature. Her writing is so pristine, clear, profound, it makes it hard to read anything lesser. I can relate easily to her writing as it talks about an era in which I was almost there. She is a bit older than me, but not much, and she tells about those inhibited, prescribed times with such accuracy and precision. We didn’t know it was an uptight time, but some of us, myself included, we’re secretly restless. When I was at University, we had a speaker in what was called our once a week chapel, non-religious albeit. Dorms were segregated then, by sex, so this was a female gathering. The woman labelled us the “silent” generation. This was the fifties. With its intense domesticity and an underlying, blossoming rebellion. The sixties came next. Then it was flowers and guitars on the hillside and everything changed.