I went through my Dudley info, as I must, finally and at long last, write my script and memorize it. Had my salad for lunch, then took off for town. At the library, read for an hour Melissa Rivers' book on her mother, Joan. I always liked Joan Rivers and her sassy, verging on outrageous (and sometimes, not just verging) humor. Anyway, I'll continue reading it next time. Ellen texted she'll be in Ventura today and we'll meet for lunch--yay!
Yesterday was the birthday of my oldest granddaughter, Vivian. She is fourteen years old and what a complicated darling she's turned out to be--so much like the rest of us. I both deplore and applaud the family traits almost all of my parents' descendants seem to exhibit: a nagging sense of never being good enough along with a touch of arrogance, laziness and great energy, sweet naturalness and irritating artifice, plus an infuriating sense of privilege that co-exists with a well of self-doubt.
She's her grandmother's girl, all right.
3 comments:
A young Rosemary. Do you see yourself in Vivian?
Oh, so very much, but not her beauty or her athletic grace. I see the other attributes, not all of which are desirable.
Actually, she looks very much like her mother, Paula.
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