In an attempt at festive air, I am planning on painting my toenails while peering at Times Square, if I do stay up that late - or can't sleep due to this noxious head cold. I can't believe that while miserably choking on the least tickle in my throat, I decided to read The Virgin Suicides. I am not at all sure of Eugenides' purpose, but I can't help but think that in his great exaggeration of a family's propensity for suicide, that he wasn't exposing the sorry waste such early deaths are and the inadequate ability peers have to help change events. Being one awfully acquainted with the subject, I don't quite buy the anniversary suicides of the four remaining sisters. I can't believe that at least one wouldn't have like myself wanted to get the hell out of town - and have succeeded. Thus I have enjoyed this last day of 2011, conscious of my past and looking forward to beginning a new year with the promise of new family members! Apropos of nothing in particular, I am posting this photo of my mother at age 14 (perhaps inspired by the book - for she also was schooled in suicide).
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