Let me restart what I am sure is an ancient argument, although I discovered it only this morning. I was thinking about my new contacts, and how they are just slightly tinted blue. Then I recalled one time admiring the deep blue eyes of a girl whose acquaintance I had made (yes, Pam has read this). Were those perfectly blue eyes I admired aided by some cosmetic influence? Had I been fooled into seeing beauty were it did not exist (well, to a lesser extent, anyway)?
What happens when you have to question whether a person’s attributes which we find appealing have been artificially enhanced? One result is that you start to doubt beauty when you see it, downplaying a feature because it is probably fake. But I guess that depends upon your definition of beauty. You may not feel it necessary to take into account the source of that beauty. Less discriminating, but aware of more beauty?
I could submit that this is the same argument as that surrounding performance enhancing drugs in the sport world. But I’m not a sports fan, so I won’t get into that.
Less philosophic today. Spent the day cleaning and straightening up the apartment. Pam and I finally bought a bureau in which to put all our the clothes which can’t go on hangers. It was all formerly on upper shelves in the closet or in piles on the floor. We brought the bureau home in a 4 foot by 18 inch by 6 inch box, and in five million pieces. It took us about fifteen minutes to decipher the coded directions, but after we had cracked them, they were surprisingly easy to follow. (The problem was that they referred to each screw, fastener and drawer slider, etc. by number, so it was “Affix, 45 to 312 with 62, laterally; make sure to line up arrows.”)
This evening we had a visitor, or actually two visitors. First was our somewhat annoying neighbor, Dave. He came offering some pie he had baked. He is in his seventies, recites poetry, won’t leave if you let him in the door, and has apparently wrestled bears.
Our second visitor didn’t make it into the apartment, since she came to the window instead of the door. But she stayed quite a while, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she we saw her there tomorrow morning too. She seemed much less concerned with Pam and me than with the rodent member of the household, since she was a very pretty black cat. As we are on basement floor of our building, the bottoms of our windows are exactly at ground level, and I think when we had the kitchen window by Pooh’s cage open this evening, guinea pig aromas may have escaped.
From where she stood, the cat couldn’t directly see Pooh, because his cage is off to the side of the window, and the curtain obscured her view. However, when we (mischievously) lifted the curtain, the cat’s expression of desire was unmistakable. We decided that we had better close the window, lest we find a fat cat lounging on our kitchen floor tomorrow morning. Even after we closed the window, the cat remained, crying, pacing and looking for a way in.
And I can’t forget that this weekend was Thanksgiving. Pam and I were invited to her employer’s brother’s house for dinner last night. It was very enjoyable. Pam, especially, was delighted because we dined with three children under the age of three. One of these was Brice, whom Pam nannies, and the other two belonged to the brother. The whole family was there, with grand parents, uncles, etc, and although Pam and I were the only non-family present, we did not feel out of place.
Happy Thanksgiving to the other Canadians,
and have a good Columbus Day to those down below.