too much

One of my favourite diarists is Florida Scott Maxwell (1883-1979).  She was an actress, a wife and a playwright while she was married, and then a Jungian analyst.  She kept a diary in  - I think, her 82nd year -  and I read it when I was reading for my book on women’s diaries, and quoted her (with permission from her niece, who didn’t charge me.)   I was way short of her age then but now I’m older than she was.  Today was a busy day with too much going on (in my head),  and I thought of her.  After something that had her wrought up and fussing  she chided herself:

“I’m too old for moral fervour.”

Me too.

Here’s the age card: I did too much today, too much, I guess, because I’m 85 years old, for goodness’ sake. Enough is enough.  But when is it enough? Well,  I just did ordinary things, not pushing my body through time and space, just at home, but I worked through my partner’s notes on my screenplay, and there’s some rethinking and some tact to be involved there. I went to my physio (traction, still recovering from the side effects of my leg wound), and I picked up some American money for my trip to Boston/Quincy later this week, and I stopped at a favourite bookstore and found that book I wrote about last week, that I thought I would wait until I could  afford to buy.  Well, it’s in paperback, and offered at a discount, and I have a loyalty perk.  How could I resist?

I won’t go into any more of my day (a bit of shopping, a guest for dinner, the Blue Jays game - and wow to that!). The Big News is the Book; Landmarks, by Robert Macfarlane. It’s even better than I thought it would be.  Oh, my, it is a joy and a treasure and a wonder!  Landscape and language, presented with joy and passion and wit -  oh, and erudition.  There are twelve glossaries, one of which (the eleventh) is blank for the reader (me) to begin her own collection.

Was ever an old woman so blessed?

I’ll try not to stay up all night.