We Can't All Be Cleopatra
Lady Margaret Faulford-Gleecks)
Half of you are hating me, right about now. The
first time *FootNotes* registers a
pulse in nearly six months, and it turns out to be an
hands: how many of you really
There is no "Fleeta," of course. I'd like to think that my
crackpot detector is more finely-tuned than that: otherwise, I would be
sending money to deposed Nigerian military leaders and buying
antihistamines from Mexican pharmacies online. I
most of the photos and paintings.
David and I pulled "reactualization" out of a thesaurus.
And while there is more than a *molecule*
of truth behind yesterday's lunacy -- there really IS an
Applebee's photo, and I really AM semi-obsessed with
it, and I
DO tell people that I think I might be the woman standing off to one
side, with the long braid running down the back of her bathing costume
-- the rest of it is as phony as Great Aunt Edna's
eyebrows. Statistically speaking, it's pretty darned unlikely
could have lived
Pompeii at the time of the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius, AND in the court
of King Henry VIII, AND twenty miles from Gettysburg during the height
of the Civil War. Don't you think? If there were
previous incarnations -- and here I must tell you that I'm not at all
convinced there weren't -- I'm sure I probably
mundane existences, far removed from the spotlight of history:
emptying chamber pots during the Middle Ages, for instance, or grinding
corn in a mud hut in Peru.
It's like the song says: We can't all be Cleopatra.
Still ... I've gotta tell you that it was great
fun to write. I came up with the idea on Thursday morning,
48 feverish hours later it was ready to roll. (I used to
all of my
term papers at the eleventh hour, too.) Writing it
stretched creative muscles that had grown flabby from
lack of use. And it certainly got YOUR attention: I
received messages from people I haven't heard from in ages. (Hiya, Laura!
hangin, Mr. Bacon??)
Even family members took notice. I posted the
entry at 8
a.m. Saturday morning; by 8:11, my phone was ringing.
"I know what day this is," Daughter #1 deadpanned. "But I
just wanted to make sure."
Writing the goofy thing has also
reminded me how much I used to enjoy writing
*FootNotes,* and how much I used to enjoy the contact with friends and
Lately, other projects and commitments have been
most of my 'fun-writing' time ... the job, the family, the
much-ballyhooed book project (currently stalled/still plugging away at
it), must-see Sunday
night television ... but if the past few days have
convinced me of anything, they've convinced me that if I really put my
mind to it, I absolutely can
find time to write the fun stuff. Which makes me think it
stretch those flabby
for real, and to regale you once again with semi-regular
tales of menopause and marriage and
The half of you that are still speaking
to me, that is.
Have a great rest-of-the-weekend, everybody!
to throw a rock?