TheCapeBlog

A recent article in the NY Times claims that the wish to be beautiful is healthy, normal.

There’s no question that beautiful/handsome people have an easier time of it than the rest of us. But equating physical attractiveness with moral superiority and societal worth, a belief which religions and advertisers advance with rigorous conviction, is, well, crazy.

Or is it?

My mother abandoned me as an infant back in the baby scoop days when adoptions were conducted in secret and with little understanding of the complexities of profering very young children to strangers.

I grew up with people who were small-boned, exotic-looking, dark-haired As opposite my own English/Scots-Irish/German big-boned, coarse-featured self as could be imagined.

To make matters even more complicated, the supposedly infertile couple had a daughter of their own when I was about 2 years old. Their daughter grew up to be perfect: thin, beautiful, athletic, popular – the favorite of aunts, uncles and cousins. I was the black sheep in every respect: looks, personality, abilities.

So I didn’t grew up beautiful, and it certainly has impacted work, relationships and my place in communities.

I was so hated in my last town, Mashpee MA, that I had suicidal thoughts every day. I was hated at every place I’ve worked. I need to be very careful of how I act around other people in the course of normal affairs so much as that I’ve taken to avoid contact as much as possible.

The irony is that young children adore me, always have. There is no reason for this other than their purity and innocence.

I was blessed with one magnificent aunt who loved me without condition and who understood instinctively that my childhood rages came from a loss that was so bone-marrow deep that it expressed itself as “spoiled brat” non-verbal fury.

Being unattractive has been character-building, I suppose. I have a reputation for rock-solid integrity. Some people might even think of me as kind.

But does that make me or people like me valuable and worthwhile, especially in the United States? Particularly if we pair plainess or homeliness with intelligence?

It seems to be okay to be unattractive if you’re an object of pity, someone other people can patronize or about whom they can feel superior. Especially if a handicap makes a human being something of a family pet, a symbol of a parent’s forbearance, their “ticket to paradise” and guarantee of societal approval here on earth.

The way you look is determined by genetics. Americans’ preference for tiny women, for example, can’t be achieved with sheer force of will: a natural size 14 will never inhabit the executive suite, marry as well or be as well liked in her community as her size 2 counterpart.

And I don’t buy the story that is often advanced about a mythical size 18 woman who has such a sparkling personality that she’s married to a gorgeous man.

Maybe so, but that woman might be living a home life of sheer misery.

Trust me on this one.

Sam from Bennington is here fixing the ugly siding around the front door. I made a quick run to get cash and caulk for him and lunches for us.

Better weather today: cooler, less smoke from the wildfires up North.

I took down the last ugly bird feeder. Yard looks great now, especially after Ron mowed it yesterday.

Among other things, I’ve been filling out product registration and rebate forms for the new air conditioners.

We picked up the shipment from rkMILES.

The carpenters started the layout of LVLs and cut a temporary accessway in the ceiling for the electrician.

I insisted that they set up the air conditioner in their work area. Our big a/c is due to arrive two days early: it’s out for delivery by UPS.

The electrician is scratching his head over a couple of faults. He tried to install a new rocker switch in the kitchen – the old one failed yesterday and kept the lights on – but it didn’t work so I asked for a conventional switch instead. At least we can turn the lights off now.

I picked up pastry from a popup in North Adams and transfer station trash bag stickers at Aubuchon.

Found Ron’s keys in the Corolla.

I watered and half-heartedly started getting tree junk off the deck. Trimmed the front bushes and cleaned the front hall, with a towel and water only, didn’t want to have to rinse everything.

Ron emptied the portable dehumidifier and cleaned the filter. He mowed the lawn, too. I picked up our week’s CSA and brought compostables to the collection bin. Steamed beets for salad tomorrow. Ron ate two ears of corn that had been sitting in water for days.

The new air conditioner arrived and we, mostly Ron, fit it into the living room window “good enough” for now. It made for a very comfortable evening.

Fierce weather tonight.

Left ankle is killing me today.

I don’t remember much about what we did yesterday, Sunday, except that I recalled a song that sent me into a full anxiety attack: “Come Saturday Morning”.

It’s a cynical little ditty about blowing off a friend after spending a carefree day with them, all the time smiling “Saturday morning smiles”, whatever that means. Fake, maybe?

It captures everything nasty and selfish about 1960’s relationships: live for the moment, leave the people who love you behind, avoid commitment, loyalty and the hard work that both involve.

It also glorifies loss and abandonment: “but we will move on…long after Saturday’s gone.” It’s a tragedy, pretending to celebrate friendship and nostalgia when, it fact, it demolishes both with the certain knowledge that good times and good people are few and far between and that the “cool kids” don’t care about either.

Today I did some errands and bought an air conditioner for the third bedroom. We’ll use it in the living room tonight and ask the carpenters to please install it tomorrow.

Ron’s switched and reattached hoses, so we should be all set for watering equipment for this season.

We are missing a set of Ron’s keys.

The check from the ZAI Trust arrived and I deposited it immediately!

I’ve been thinking about a revisit to the Berkshire Botanical Garden and decided yesterday was a good opportunity to do it, as well as to spin off a side trip to Great Barrington.

Neither was the peak experience I’d hoped for and I won’t go back in a hurry.

We did a shop at Walmart and Job Lot, then attended a couple of terrible performances (and one good one) at Lunder Center. Ron wondered “Who booked this tour?”

We held off on watering and just as well: it’s pouring now and expected to last all day.

Neighbors have returned from their vacation.

The “J’s” finished construction work early, so they installed the new door, which looks beautiful – and it works.

“Sparky” was here to install Ron’s ceiling fan/light. He discovered a problem which requires that he have access to the attic. I texted James about adding another opening when they come back on Monday. Also texted Norman about foul smells in the upstairs shower.

I spread mulch around the transplants: Azaleas, Evening Primrose, Phlox.

More sorting of bathroom and kitchen items. Ron did errands.

I sauteed onions and a green pepper and steamed a pile of greens. Did a drop-off of compostables.

J&J fixed the stairs to the basement without having to rebuild them. They poured concrete for the basement footing as well.

We went to Bennington for plants from a local gardener: white Phlox and three Evening Primrose. Picked up a little herb garden at Home Depot for half price, but it’s missing a rosemary.

Ron bought donuts and brownies at Apple Barn on the way back. He treated me to a maple soft serve, too.

We did another trip to Lanesborough for apple cider donuts and other treats.

I was able to dig out more of the miserable bittersweet root. Got the new plants in the ground before the t-storm. We watered everything anyway beforehand.

Ryan dropped by to pick up his painting tools; nice to see him and get caught up.

I sorted through two piles of bathroom goods from the old house and found a number of helpful gadgets and enough bandaids and antiseptic wipes to make two first aid kits for the vehicles.

I’m pretty sure the bushes we transplanted are, in fact, azaleas. They may originally have been from the same plant.

Around 6:30 am, spotted a couple of deer walking along our back fence, an adult and a fawn.

Attended a talk by the composting company we use, Second Chance, and picked up subs for all of us at Angelina’s. After lunch, picked up our Senior center lunches, dropped off recyclables and the bad soaker hoses at the transfer station, stopped for cash at the bank and bathroom cleaner at Dollar General.

Ron set up one of the good soakers around the transplants. We got everything – wheelbarrows, garden tools – inside before a brief shower.

Got a call from one of the minisplit contractors I phoned last week. He arrived around 4.

Unfortunately, on his way to inspect the breaker box, one of the basement stair treads collapsed under him. He assured us that he was okay. He thinks we could install a five-head system on the left side of the house.

Wrapped up the day with a performance by contemporary jazz artist Makaya McCraven and his band, including harpist Brandee Younger, at the Clark. Originally planned for outdoors, they started late due to weather. Hard-to-impress Ron was blown away.

I’m soaking wet with sweat, hot, tired and will probably be in pain soon, but it was for a worthwhile reason: transplanting two bushes from the garden abutting the deck to the former location of the ugly bird feeder monstrosity.

They look perfect there; I hope they will live. That location gets morning rather than afternoon sun. They seem to have buds, although I’d be surprised if they bloom this year.

This was precipitated by my wish to dig out a bittersweet plant that has taken firm hold in that garden. Ron did a great job clearing chunks of it, but I found more root after raking out the area this afternoon. We’ll work on it again tomorrow.

Ron did the CSA run.

Earlier today, I picked up a small bag of peat moss and stamps; had to go to the North Adams post office, Williamstown was sold out. Someone told me Subway was doing free sandwiches, but I got there 15 minutes too late.

Ron got a new hose. Love the color. By coincidence, I was thinking of painting the shutters and the vestibule the same color.

Ron also ran hoses around the perimeter of the yard and hooked them up to the soaker in the corner garden!

Our contractor installed the new air conditioner in Ron’s temporary office. It works very well.

This morning, when I was unlocking doors, I noticed that our neighbor’s trash was strewn all over their driveway. They are away for the week, so I picked it all up and put the trash barrel close to the curve for pickup this afternoon. Horrible; they have a cat.

The contractors made good progress on getting ready to install the second LVL in the living room. Soon they will be done with the first floor and (I hope) the basement structural elements.

Finally, we picked up the Tacoma this afternoon at K-M. Surprise: the cost was $120 less in labor than the estimate, due to the skill of the tech! I was able to thank him.

Ron washed off the garden tools and hammered stakes to secure the transplanted bushes.

I decided to throw away most of them but kept ten or so for the gardens and in reserve. Most were either broken or kinked; one was impossible to attach to a feeder hose.

Got the working soakers set up in both gardens.

Visited with our neighbor’s mom and their dog, nice chat.

She used to visit this house and remembers when it was quite different: four bedrooms upstairs and a den downstairs.

USPS says they delivered our air conditioner this afternoon; they did not. Filed a claim.

Grilled burgers for supper.