Grocery Shopping

I’ll have to get some bananas today.
I hear they’re loaded with potassium.
“We need some milk,” I thought I heard him say,
And the ads say women need calcium.

My daughter likes macaroni and cheese,
So I think I’ll buy her a box of it.
The dog needs shampoo to kill all his fleas,
And today I really need chocolate.

We’re out of detergent – I almost forgot
That we’ll need diapers and formula too.
My husband wants salsa – medium/hot.
Oh, and he needs polish for his scuffed shoe.

There’s still one more thing that I need to buy.
I’ll never remember – why bother to try?

Henry VIII - Check Him Out!!

What can I really say about Henry VIII's love letters to Anne Boleyn? Although he expresses himself very eloquently, I find him to be a disgusting, womanizing pig. He's not even good-looking!! His portraits show him to be aging, overweight, and hairy. What a catch. Meanwhile Anne Boleyn's portrait (one of among the very few I could find and not very detailed- big surprise) depicts her as being fair and youthful with delicate features. Did she really want him? Just from reading the letters, I am compelled to believe that she most certainly did not. Anne probably could have married anyone she wanted. She was wealthy, young, and beautiful, and perhaps she wanted someone a bit less old, overweight, and insecure (and I'm sure a bit more hair on the head would have been nice too). But - what if Henry VIII looked like the handsome young man who plays the part in The Tudors? Hmmm. He probably would have had even more wives.

Henry VIII of The Tudors looks absolutely nothing like the old man pictured above - he looks like he is in his 20s and has great bone structure, sparkling eyes, and an athletic build. Ok, he's HOT (I hope my husband doesn't read this - just kidding). I haven't seen the show myself, but I can only imagine that a large part of it is spent on Henry's love life (sorry this post turned out to be slightly off topic - I think I just wanted a reason to add a picture of the new and improved Henry VIII).

Did Women Have a Renaissance???

And the answer is - of course they didn't. Why would they? The question itself implies that women once excelled at something artistically magnificent (no - having babies, cooking, and cleaning does not count). This is a sad fact. I don't believe for one second that women didn't (or have any desire to) paint , sculpt, or write beautiful poetry or prose. They probably did. And if they didn't - then they probably wanted to (this makes me think of Virginia Woolf's bit on Judith Shakespeare).

Nevertheless, Joan Kelly-Gadol's essay was informative (although not entirely entertaining). In her essay, she quotes a passage from The Book of the Courtier that states that a lady who lives in the court "will be able to entertain graciously every kind of man," and that she should "give up certain unbecoming physical activities such as riding and handling weapons." The essay goes on to say that she should be "as docile in adulthood as her early teachers trained her to be." Geez. No wonder women didn't have a Renaissance. They simply weren't allowed to. They were much too busy entertaining men and being pleasant and beautiful. They weren't allowed to nurture whatever real artistic talents they might possess.

It is sad to think that women have never had and may never have a Renaissance. If someone wants to study great works of literature by women, it is likely that they would have to take a feminist lit class. So why don't they just call the rest of our early lit classes misogynist literature? I'm not by any means implying that I don't enjoy reading the male authors - I just think it would be nice to read more women authors. This way we would be able to have some sort of concept of what it was really like to be woman during those unforgiving times.

Does this man exist?

When I first began reading Book I of The Book of the Courtier I was excited because I thought I had finally found a cure for my insomnia, but once the characters commenced with their game it actually became interesting. I really like how the dialogue flows - it's reminds me of a bunch of friends (really pompous friends) sitting together and just having a good, engaging discussion. Of course, their discussion happens to be appropriate for their time and class and entails describing the "perfect courtier." But does such a man truly exist? He's hideously perfect!! He has every admirable and desirable quality.

Just to name a few of his characteristics:

* He is "born of a noble and genteel family."
* He is "bold, energetic, and faithful."
* He displays courage but not to the point of being scary.
* He has confidence.
* He is gorgeous - soft features but not feminine, yet manly but not too brawny.
* He knows how to wrestle and is a perfect horseman.
* He knows how to "swim, jump, run, and throw stones."
* He behaves himself with good judgment at all times.
* He is graceful.

The list seems neverending. Not only is this man required to hold all the attributes of perfection, but these attributes must also be perfect in themselves (confident not ridiculous; strong but not a beast, etc.). My question is this: Do they really think that this man exists somewhere? I would think the men would find it very comforting to think that he is simply an idealized creation (and perhaps the women would be disappointed and once again immerse themselves in their romance novels, daydreaming of their "perfect courtier"). I really don't think they are being entirely serious. Even the nobility would have enough sense to realize that no single person can be entirely full of virtue and absent of vice, right? Perhaps we will figure out the point of this as the dialogue develops.

The Second Letter in Utopia

So we pretty much all agree that Book II of Utopia is pretty interesting and raises some interesting and controversial questions. But what about the very brief second letter to Peter Giles at the end? The footnote states that it wasn't included in the first edition of Utopia - so why bother to include it in subsequent printings? At first it seems to be some type of rebuttal concerning the authenticity of Hythloday's story. But More doesn't directly state whether or not he believes the story to be true; he simply tells Peter that anyone who wants to know the truth should ask Hythloday himself and even points them in his direction.

This tiny letter was perhaps the most difficult part to understand of Utopia. I get the irony in it, but is it simply a reaction to criticism that More received after the first printing? It just seems to be a bit random within the book. But it is slightly humorous. He states that "reading the book all the way through" is a "burden" (589). I'm sure several of us can't help but agree (although I was surprised that it was so interesting and timeless).