Back to birth mother talk, eventually

Cooper gets the I should have been a Red Diaper baby award for her knowledge of The Scottsboro boys case. My maternal grandmother died when I had just turned eleven but not before teaching me about every great American injustice in 20th Century history including McCarthy. She also taught me about Communism, feminism and fashion. Yes I know that beautiful women can be Communists and feminists. My grandmother was one.

My parents were progressive which meant that that they had certain beliefs and sympathies, but were not now nor had ever been….

This is of course leading up to Ann Coulter. Shayna did a great BIO post on her that I absolutely couldn’t find. It was Saturday the 10th–didn’t find her. I gave her the best use of the word harpie award. I meant of course the opposite. Coulter gets the Harpie of the Millenium Award

It amazes me that Ann Coulter is taken seriously by anybody and that people buy her books. She has no understanding of compassion, caring. She’s about as insightful as a third grader on amphetamines, and I can’t see how anybody can call her clever.

But I blog and she makes millions. So…

Since I’m into awards Bone gets best used of the word whilst by an American. It’s a word that I love but have never had the courage to use.

I give myself, she once had a life now she’s blogging award. 6/14 is the nineteen month anniversary of the day I joined BE It was a rainy day. I was bored. Have never been bored since.

Must thank all the people who have encouraged me on this journey. It has led to so much. One of the too many Chinese Fortune cookies i opened last week for the fortune said “the journey is the destination.” I hope to get to my destination, not the last one for some time, but the ride has been wonderful. For an update on my Ac’s.

I cancelled the Ac’s at Home Depot yesterday morning, and spoke to a very nice woman at J&R who made darn sure that the Ac’s will be delivered this week. It was gray and dismal this morning. I had planned on going to the beach, but it was too yucky. Hope to go tomorrow, Tuesday.

Thought that it was more important for my physical and mental health to go to the beach than to see Al Gore. When Lucia left for work this morning, people were already lining up. She leaves at seven, it’s a 49 block or two and a half mile walk to her office.

What I miss most about working in an office is the morning walk there. It’s calming and well at some jobs was the high point of my day. When I lived in Riverdale, it literally was as I would walk down the hills, across The Major Deegan, a highway, up the hills of Kingsbridge and around part of the reservoir which stunk of mold. It was great easy exercise.

Also miss the separation. Here I look at a computer and have to write. It’s not an obsession but a compulsion and I think a rewarding one. Do have a notebook but also have handwriting from hell. Use a recorder but hate my voice. Would die when I would have to listen to interviews ten or more times while transcribing them.

There’s nothing wrong with my voice. Just don’t like it. Was in the elevator with the bitch in the penthouse who was nice today and her daughter. The daughter has a very preppy accent. My voice has preppy undertones and there’s nothing preppy about me except a love for Talbot’s tee’s and some color combinations.

Though I know I would make a much funnier reality show than many that are on, all by myself. My computes talk to me. I have an imaginary dog. My doormen can be funny. Think they have to watch Rhoda in doorman school. Rafe has a hair salon on Madison Avenue. Don’t think that there’s ever been a reality show about Madison Avenue, and I know it so well.

Might blog more this week because I’m nervous about next Monday and find that the act of blogging is very calming. When I work on my book I totally focus. When I blog, I let it all out.

We’re probably not going to read The Girls who went away

On the sidebar, which strangely is Technorati tag for Courting, and not one that I put in, nor did I put in Christian as we’re Jewish, whatever, I have a page about why I don’t write much about being adopted Something that I am proud of as we had incredible parents, and our family has provided so much wonderful material.

In the 70’s and 80’s maybe even later I could have never said that I was proud to be adopted. It was a crazy time that tried to take all dignity from being adopted and adoptive parents, and give it to the birth parents. There is much validity in what they have to say, but they said at the expense of adoptive parents and the adoptive family.

My birth mother was in her late 20’s. She wasn’t a girl but a woman. She might have been immature as I am and was.

I know how heart wrenching it was for her. I also know how much I did belong in my family, and I’m not up for fighting this war once more. Until I met my birth mother, I had never felt like a mistake. Then again nobody had ever called me one before.

I’m being selfish here and looking at this strictly from my perspective and the perspective of my family. Though my parents actively encouraged my search, my father did read an article that lead to me meeting another member of her family.

And my sister seems to be entranced by the whole thing. Shortly after I first spoke to my birth mother, my sister and I went out. Doesn’t take her much to get tipsy and she was convinced that I was going to leave our family for a new one. We were adults. I wasn’t about to switch allegiance.

Thought that my birth mother and I might become friendly. Wasn’t meant to be.