Conversations and Progress

So, my car started to make a funny noise in Oklahoma. Today, we took the car to Dale and Matt’s to present them with what Dale referred to as “a mechanical conundrum.” That should take a few days. But, that’s just the pretext for what comes next. More pretext: the county is rebuilding the bridge just past our driveway. It needed it. But, this has led to the asphalt ending in a fairly well tamped down gravel bit. And the gravel is doing what gravel does: it is slowly being tamped down farther by me and my family and neighbors who all drive over that lip a total of about 15 times a day. On the way home with Hemingway, we drove over it again, so I mentioned it. Now, here it is. He said, “And someone will drive over it too fast here in a few weeks and blow out a tire. And, forgive me, but it will be a woman driver, and she will say, “Well, it shouldn’t have been there.” Really, Pops, thought Tricksy. So I shot back, “And statistically speaking, it’s men drivers who go out, get all hammered drunk, and smash into an entire family. Take your pick: blown tire, or four dead.” Hemingway looked at me and said, “I’m used to losing these points.” I then replied, “Then stop saying stupid shit like that, jeez, Dad, you know better.” This, from my Dad, the man who is more of a feminist in much of his life than any man in his generation I’ve ever met, who was glad the Dems won some ground for the sake of women and reason, who made sure I could drive, I could fix a flat, or in a pinch, change a belt. Fortunately, we can have this exchange with exactly zero acrimony.

And 3.5 hours later, I have a working introduction to the book and the certainty about it to write a chapter on Stein interpreting her poetry as a kind of vatic realism. I know, that sounds really wierd, but trust me. ;-)