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There was a giant color monitor that was playing on, and the male receptionist and I watched it.
He kept asking me what I thought the price of everything should be, and I had no dreaming idea, though I did hit the eight-ounce jar of Dijon mustard right on the button.
The woman I just described is me, of course, but I could tell you about my friend who began a very normal existence at the Masked Ball in St. We are not unusual any more, we wives and mothers of long standing who are reshaping our lives.
By the time I looked up from a car pool in Baltimore to announce defiantly, “Oh hell, I’m going to New York,” it was a tossup which of our band of questioning housewives would be the first to leave. We thought that so far we had been pretty seriously taken.
When he gets out, Joe the driver suggests I come up in the front seat for the ride back.There was a time, many years back, when she dreamed of coming here, but she was sidetracked then by a boy out of Harvard whom she loved, by dreams, and by his babies.Now, so much later, New York suddenly seems possible again.I had written and sold a book — ironically enough, one which touched heavily on the strengths of my life with Barney and the children. “We get this really terrific apartment and put the boys in one bedroom and the girls in another — it’s dormitories — and we take your housekeeper with us. I am going to New York to become this famous writer. Not trusting my resolve, I made sure first that I was here, saddled with a lease and pride.That event allowed me some confidence (bravado by any other name) and some money. I write and you open a store called Carol Pots and we have dashing dinner parties with devastating men.” And then one day the what-if and do-you-think and my-God-the-kids conversation stopped. Barney had decided with my departure to take a campaign job in Washington he’d been wanting. But I had not dropped out of my conventional ways easily, and I pondered and anguished still.