My public apologies to Hope & Cope. The intake forms were a little repetitive and I had to write in a few things as thyroid cancer isn’t really a category for them. But that’s as far as my criticism can go. My intake interview was done by a retired teacher named Gwen who volunteers there and is a 25-year ovarian cancer survivor who must now be in her 70s. The word “badass” comes to mind although I’m pretty sure that’s not how she would describe herself. Also she regaled me with stories about how rough McGill was for Jews when she was an undergrad. I have gotten a weird feeling the few times I’ve been in posh downtown clubs at dinners for donors. Every time I go into a place like the University Club, I wonder how far back into the past I’d have to go in order to not be allowed in the door, and I fear it’s not all that far.
Anyway, my personal trainer seems pretty great. My routine is, well, harder than it looks. The words “stiff” and “incredibly out of shape” come to mind. But she clearly knows what she’s doing, which is what I wanted.
I can’t return the cancer, so I might as well enjoy the fringe benefits, right?
Heh, today we are going to the Harvard Club for lunch (my first time) and I’m preparing myself to feel the same way. Now Jews and Asians rulle much of higher education. We were just at Yale and it seems somewhat to me to be still WASP-y. It gives me great pleasure to be there as an unwanted presence.
Did you know that I do a feminist technoculture collective blog, at http://www.differenceengines.com/? well, there it is.
It is cool that you can see Hope and Cope as a fringe benefit, and I’m very impressed by your badass initial contact with the place. there are badass people everywhere, scattered about like raisins in a pudding, and it’s always great to come across one.
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