Blog posts have been slouching toward Dallas to be born a bit slower of late. This is at least partially because of my incredible non-existent immune system which only bestirs itself when it realizes that its archenemy—the thyroid—is still loitering around my throat. It takes a pretty laissez-faires attitutude towards sinus infections and such, and I have to admit that it leads a pleasant and undisturbed life. The same cannot be said of me. But a few different people have asked about my blog in the same week, so I decided to resurrect it.
I've been watching my clothes dry in the Texas heat and thinking of the woman who lived across from my church in New Jersey and always line-dried her enormous white cotton bloomers where church-goers (and anyone driving on the very busy road) could not fail to be flagged down by the myriad flutterings. The association was of many white flags of surrender, but since this estimable woman was waging a highly succesful war against the scourge of grandmothers-in-thongs, they seemed in the end to be so many outposts of traditional feminine victory, where the bow of surrender is in fact victorious.