For some inexplicable reason, I didn't check the forecast before I went to bed. If I had, I would have taken my drying rack and Wellies inside, and I would have covered my bike. Fortunately, my Wellies were relatively dry this morning, as was my bike which was sheltered under the rear slide-out. I don't leave the awning out at night in case the wind increases. My drying rack will dry, because that's what it does.
I was trapped inside BOB today due to the rain, so I colored my hair. It looks great, but four months without a cut is another thing. This is the longest I've gone without a haircut since I was a kid because my mother had a "no-split-ends" policy.
I also took another stab at diagnosing the leak under the kitchen sink. When I arose this morning, I emptied the cabinet under the sink and removed the soaked microfiber cloth. I turned on the hot water heater and went back to bed to do Sudoku. The heating cycle per se produced no water in the cabinet, but doing the dishes did.
Previously, when I ran the hot water faucet, I wasn’t really running HOT water because the water heater was off. When I crawled under the sink with the hot water heater on, and with the HOT water running, I discovered that the hot water input hose to the faucet was the source of the leak. I applied some Lexel(R) plastic sealant to the hose connection, so I believe the problem is solved.
Camilla is starting a blog, and for her first piece she is interviewing women she knows by asking the following two questions: "1) What did you think it meant to be a woman when you were a little girl? 2) What does being a woman mean to you now?" Here are my answers:
1) My parents both had careers, and they both achieved advanced degrees after I was born. As both parents and professionals, I did not experience any difference in their genders. The shopping, cooking and housework were my mother's domain, and the maintenance of the house and yard were my father's. I guess they divided those duties via the conventional roles of wives and husbands in the 1970s, since neither of them had any specific experience with either. I experienced their division of labor as just that, and I was expected to help both of them. My parents expected me to go to college and to graduate school so that I could support myself as they had done. I expected that I would do those things, plus I expected that I would get married and have children. I guess the fact that women, not men, give birth is the only difference I perceived between the genders, and therefore, as a child, being a woman was defined by giving birth.
2) At 38 years old, I gave up trying to become pregnant. At nearly 42, I had a hysterectomy. Having a child defines one as a "mother," but if the mother doesn't feel maternal (or keep the child) what does it mean to her to be a mother? I don't know. Biology identifies gender (unless you are a hermaphrodite) and menses redefines a girl as a "woman," but does either the ability to reproduce or reproducing mean to her that she is a woman? I don't know. If menses is the common establishment of womanhood, does a hysterectomy or menopause remove it? I don't know. To me, the word "woman" only means that a female human being is post-menses. Period: period. I don't think of myself as a woman: I think of myself as a human being - psychologically, socially, intellectually, professionally, etc. Thanks to my mother's generation I have likely had professional opportunities I otherwise wouldn't have had, but in spite of their efforts I've probably been the victim of gender discrimination: if I have, I don't know. I'm also white, so if I've likely been the beneficiary of race discrimination: if I have, don't know. I'm just a human being who is white and female and assumed that neither of those things matter. When I'm older (or now) will I be the beneficiary or victim of age discrimination? I don't know. Right now, I am a 51-year-old person looking for a job which will benefit the company, the shareholders and me, and nothing other than my education and experience should matter. So, being a woman is nothing other than an age-defined biological construct to me.
Gwen Ifill of "The PBS Newhour" died today from endometrial cancer. I discovered mine at Stage I. I'm OK. Why didn't she know when I did?
Siobhan M. Knox
In May 2016, I bought a five ton, 25’ long Class C motorhome because I like to drive, I like to travel, and it’s more fun and less expensive than living in a hotel. No prior RV experience was required, and I had none: perfect. I’m writing a book about my adventures which will come to an end when I get a job. The dogs will be sad.