Spring in My Step

"For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come." Song of Solomon 2:11-12

It's definitely here now. Last night while I was sleeping it arrived ever so surreptitiously, waving a magic wand over the hawthorne and magnolia so their voluptuous rosy blossoms proudly greeted me this morning when I arose. Coffee cup in hand, I was left speechless to gaze in wonder, serendaded by symphony's of robins and cardinals.

On Sunday, our minister talked about being "Easter people," believing in the power of new life and rebirth. I admit to having difficulty finding shreds of hope in the midst of my winter. But each year about this time, my soul takes a deep breath and I am instantly calmed and comforted. And on mornings like these I am reborn along with the buds on our ancient trees. If they can perpetuate such beauty year after year, despite the months of freeze they endure, shouldn't I be able to do the same?

On My List

I'm in the process of enjoying a few days of relative normalcy after a very hectic couple of weeks. So I thought I'd take a few minutes and review what's currently "on my list" - such as... 1. On My Bedside Table: The Doctor's Daughter, by Hilma Wolitzer, for literary edification; Somehow Form A Family, by Tony Early, for my memoir writing class; and A Continual Feast, by Jan Karon, for spiritual enrichment.

2. On My Music Stand: Mozart Sonata #12 in D Major, K. 284.

3. In My Car CD Player: The Circle of Grace, a "woman's novel" about four friends who reunite after being apart for 30 years.

4. In My Home Stereo: Schubert's Trout Quintet, for feeding my chamber music dreams;

5. On My TiVo: America Idol, a very guilty pleasure, and Dancing with the Stars finale, which I watch occasionally when I feel the need to "get pumped."

6. In My Netflix Queue: Six Feet Under, the final season, disc one; and Mad Hot Ballroom (more dancing!)

7. In My Refrigerator: Pork chops for tonight's dinner; Cesar salad with grilled chicken for tomorrow's lunch; and Red Diamond Chardonnay (2002), a smooth new (to me) label from Washington state;

8. On My Agenda: A quiet weekend getaway, just the two of us, to the Bayshore Resort in Traverse City. Three nights of peace and quiet, with the big lake right outside the window, and a jacuzzi for two right inside the room. Can't wait...

Time's A Wastin'

I have become extremely proficient at wasting time. Tomorrow's impending loss of an hour with the advent of daylight savings time led me to examine the major culprits in my collection of ways to "fritter away" minutes. So, without further ado (for a change), here are some of the ways it happens: The dogs: Number one way to lose time. Can't resist stopping to cuddle, stroke, talk to, throw a ball, get a biscuit, brush their hair, etc. etc.;

The computer: Have to check the email at least four times a day to see if I might have a new message from one of the many online sites that regularly send me can't miss offers or notices of sales. While I'm there, take a quick glance at my bank balance, my credit card statement (it can't be that much already!), and my favoirite gallery of web sites;

The kitchen: A cup of coffee or carton of yogurt often beckons as I pass through through on the way to the computer. While I'm in the refrigerator, can't help noticing all the scraps of leftovers and the slimy lettuce languising there. I really need to clean out the fridge. Decide to do it after the coffee;

The piano: Suddenly just have to whip off a few bars of that Haydn sonata I've been re-working. After that, some Debussy might be nice. Since I'm sitting here, should probably run through a few of the solos for festival;

My book: Ah, the worst culprit of all. My number one indulgence in the morning is to lie in bed and read, sipping my coffee, the puppies curled up on each side of me (this way I can waste time in three categories at once! how efficient I am after all!) I originally allowed myself half an hour for this pasttime. Often, to my combined delight and dismay, it stretches into an hour.

And while I'm busily wasting precious minutes in all of these vitally important pastimes, the real work piles higher and higher. Ah well, it's only time...

Contrary Motion

It suddenly occurred to me few minutes ago that I might be in a fugue state...I don't really know why I thought that, it's just that I feel so very odd and disconcerted lately, and that term just popped into my head. So I decided, YES!, that must be what's going on with me. But when I googled "fugue state," the definition was a "sudden traveling away from familiar surroundings in an amnesiac episode." Well, that really isn't me at all right now. My surroundings are all too famliar, and my memory is actually pretty good, considering all the stuff that's roiling around in my head. (I remembered earlier today that it was Chris and Cathy King's birthday - they were twins who were my lab partners in seventh grade science class. So, in some respects my memory is working very well.)

So, if not in a state of fugue, what is going on with me these days?

In thinking about it, I believe it was the musical concept of fugue that felt appropriate to my state of mind...the idea of a theme that keeps repeating itself, but entering and exiting at different times. I even have some variations of the theme going on as well, which helps to keep things even more interesting (how proud Bach would have been!)

Here's how it all plays out in practical terms.

1. The professional woman theme: That's the one that goes into her office, turns on her computer, reviews and documents a huge pile of medical records, creates a summary of medical activites related to patients with all kinds of mental and physical disorders, sends a bill and report to the appropriate people at the appropriate times, assigns and schedules work hours, and handles employee disputes.

2. The "artiste" theme: Here's the musician/writer who sits at the piano for a three hour rehearsal, takes a quick dinner break during which she drafts a letter soliciting funds for a scholarship in memory of a former student who recently committed suicide, and then heads over to a local church hosting a group of homeless people to provide an hour of musical entertainment;

3. The wife/mother/daughter theme: This is the variation that creates a meal, takes the two dogs to the groomer, stops at the grocery to pick up a carton of eggs for her mother, and pays some bills online at 11:00 p.m.

Somehow, these themes become integrated into a day in the life of a whole person - ME. See, I did all the things listed above at various times TODAY. And although part of my mind says, God, you are too old to do all this crap, another part of it is saying, God, you are amazing that you can do all this crap! So, do I want it to end? No. Do I want to have scads of free time to go out to lunch and go shopping, and clean the grout in my bathroom with a toothbrush? GOD, no.

I like being a fugue, one of the most complicated and difficult musical forms to master. It takes hours and hours for me to hack my way through one on the keyboard. But, hell, I can damn sure live one every day.

Homesick

You would probably call me an incredibly lucky person, and deep in my heart I know that's true. After all, I was just able to escape the midwester midwinter doldrums, and spend five days at my house in Naples, Florida. No matter that I spent a lot of time sitting at my computer, struggling with a couple of very lengthy reports from my office job. At least that computer was parked on the glass topped lanai table, with the warm southern Florida breeze rustling my hair (and my papers). Also got to spend some time catching up with my son and daughter in law, admiring the way they've crafted such a nice life for themselves at such a young age. The boy's got it "goin' on" as they say, and frankly, I'm sometimes envious. But that's fodder for another post... The real thing I want to talk about is how whenever I'm there, I am both dreading and wishing to come back here. Dreading, because, let's face it, my house here is old and outdated and grungy with age, while my house there is new, posh, and clean. My neighborhood here pretty much matches my house, and suffice it to say, my life here just trails right along in those same decrepit lines. However, this life here seems to still call out home to me. This old house and neighborhood has sheltered me from my first days as a young wife and mother, through raising my child and watching him fly far from here into his own life. My friends are all here, the things I do that enrich my life are here - in other words, everything that is real resides in this weatherbeaten, slightly run down place. In Naples, life is almost too good to be true. As beautiful as that is for a while, it leaves something to be desired, somthing gritty and unpolished, something that you can work to clean up and rejuvenate. Something that makes life worth a little more in the end.