Nothing but Music

Aug 6, 2007 | This Life

Yeah… so, no words or pictures today. Ok, no pictures, a few words. This is a trend… and there are reasons. I just don’t want to write them. You know? There is just only so much of my medical life I want to face right now–blogging it seems really, uh, to defeat that purpose. If I write it, I have to face it. Blech.

That being said, please don’t worry and leave urgent comments. It’s not urgent. It’s not anything, but part of my life and I don’t find it inspiring at the moment.

I will say this… our car was broken into a few weeks past and the losers took my music and left most of IZ’s. Heh. So, IZ bought me a few new CDs. This is a big deal around here. I’ll spend money on flowers without a thought, but new music feels like such a luxury. So, my list of music I want is HUGE…

Anyhow, Prince Charming lived up to his name and he even let me pick out the new music and didn’t mock me or chastise me for the language. For my part, I skipped the Lily Allen and Amy Winehouse, (and Franz Ferdinand and the Killers!!) and got a few releases I thought IZ might be willing to listen to with me because some of his music was stolen too.

I would like to note that I’ve taught Boy Wonder to use the first line of “Rehab”… he now runs around saying “She tried to make me clean my room, but I said ‘No, No, No.'” Heh. He won’t sing it, because he says, “I don’t sing, MOM!” in that tone of voice that just dares me to correct him. I refuse. I’m a lover not a fighter.

And so, in the midst of no words and no ambition and no real reason to complain, really, I’m listening to the incomparable Regina Spektor. If you’ve not heard of her, go take a listen to Fidelity. (The CD is “Begin to Hope”, in case you’re wondering!) Your cool quotient is going up just reading this… and I have to say, Fidelity may be the worst song on the CD! It’s just that stunning.

This is how it works
You’re young until you’re not
You love until you don’t
You try until you can’t
You laugh until you cry
You cry until you laugh
And everyone must breathe
Until their dying breath

No, this is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into some
Someone else’s heart
Pumping someone else’s blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don’t get harmed
But even if it does
You’ll just do it all again ~~RS

And this is how it works. Sometimes words, sometimes pictures. And sometimes, nothing but music.

Lovely Day

Jul 28, 2007 | This Life

I am approximately this shade of burned. Despite slathering up with sunscreen, I’m just a wee bit toasty. The lovely Ms. Kathleen and I got it into our collective heads that we should have a yard sale. Ok, I got it into my head and dragged poor Kath along for the ride. But Ms. Kathleen is a good sport and played along. So, we spent a lovely, almost rainless, day in the sun selling our wares. A perfect day for a yard sale! We didn’t sell as much as we had hoped as both of our husbands kept rescuing items for sale, but certainly enough to make it worth our efforts.

And oof, effort it was. Boy did we hop all day. Our darling little signs were made by Kath and I have to say, those little chicks surprisingly resemble my, uh, shape. Hee! But I love them, they’re just so cute. Sadly, my photo doesn’t do her signs much justice. We were just so busy I never stopped to take a photo of the madness until the sunlight had passed us by.

The day was full of lovely little moments as well as some truly frustrating ones. Early birds arrived early and got my angry face. But then, little people visited, pressing quarters into my hands, “Um, do I have enough money for this??” (yes, yes you do, you little darling, it cost exactly 25 cents!) Several people came by and told me that they had looked at my house when it was on the market, but for some reason hadn’t bought it. We had one elderly gentleman who so impressed with how we priced our items he couldn’t stop talking about it. At first I thought he was talking about our actual prices, but it turns out he just liked the ribbon and hang tags. I had a delightful conversation with a four year old who told me his full name and chatted with me about how he wanted a hamster and how his dog died and how his nails are painted red and his hair has red color in it to match and. . . and . . . and. . . and he reminded me so much of someone I know too well (coughboywondercough) I let him take home a fun Tonka interactive computer game for a song. Because I know he’s going to spend hours with it, just chatting along to himself as he goes. I can just tell.

But perhaps, the most amazing moment came when a long time reader introduced herself and her husband! It’s always a bit of thrill to have someone take a risk and let you know they’ve been reading your work. Of course, it doesn’t hurt when they like your work, either. Oh yeah, I’ve been on the other end of that introduction, where they tell you just what they think of you: awkward! Anyhow, it was really great to meet a reader and chat for a few moments. (Waving HI! to Michelle and Jeremiah!!) Of course, in a classic “it’s all about me, Wende move” I didn’t ask Michelle any questions about HER! I was just so excited, my manners were, uh, overwhelmed? Ok, it was poor form…no excuses. I’m so sorry, Michelle. Please do comment and tell me all about you, OK?? Meeting readers is really cool—but getting to know them is even better, I think.

Such was the day. Oh, the stories I could tell. And someday, I just might. But for now, I’m done in by the sun and just thankful for the day.(thank you, thank you Kathleen) It’s enough, really. I just read this back and I used the word “lovely” too many times, but that word really does sum up the day. Tomorrow is Sunday; but it seems like there might be a sermon buried in the loveliness. Too bad I didn’t take photographs.

Delivered

Jul 24, 2007 | This Life

Pictures now, words later.

(post box and photo from the lovely and talented Juliet. Used with permission!)

UPDATE: It’s been a profoundly disappointing day. I woke up to discover that the medication I’d been taking for 2 months was actually a lower dosage than I thought. In yet another snafu with my Drs. office, it appears that they lowered my medication and didn’t tell me. Actually, let me rephrase, they lowered it and LIED about it. I took them at their word and didn’t read the label, so in the end it’s really my fault. For the past two months, while I’ve been thinking I’m going insane to feel the way I do, I was really just going through withdrawals. There’s nothing like interacting with your doctor to make you feel completely insane. Insane or not, I spent the remainder of the day making sure I had a new phyician, an appointment to see said phyician, and all my records in order. In between crying jags for the frustration.

When I thought the day had dealt me its worse, I discovered that the man who delivered my vintage hutch, only to take it away and work on it because it couldn’t fit, didn’t bother to look at it for a month. Despite telling me he could do the work in no time, easy peasy, despite reassuring me that he would make it a priority, he did nothing. And when he finally did look at it, (today!) he decided that he would like to charge me the same amount of money I spent on it to fix it. Yeah, that’s not going to happen.

So, my “space”, which has been torn apart waiting for a new hutch is now just torn apart. The item is too big and will now go back to the store where I will get to eat a 10% charge assuming it ever sells. I am without a hutch and without any motivation to face the disaster area that is my office. I have even less desire to begin the hunt for a solution to the problem. Honestly, all I can do right now is cry… Ever feel that way? Just overwhelmed with setbacks. It’s really petty, I suppose and I don’t know what’s more pathetic—all this nonsense, or the fact that I can’t seem to stem the waterworks today.

And for those of you who read this blog and wonder if I ever have a down day… yeah, well, here’s your proof. I do.

One Letter at a Time

Jul 23, 2007 | This Life

Growing up I had several pen pals. A child with no television with parents who defined the term “over-protective”, I sought refuge in books and letters. Lots of letters. I kept lists of the people I was writing, detailed charts that kept track of who got the next letter… and for the most part, the world wrote back. Life lines to an existence I wanted and could dream about and did dream about. My dreams and my letters went uncensored.

Good thing, too. Some of those letters were steamy! Because eventually I ceased to be twelve and the recipients ceased to be other lonely little girls living in middle America wondering about exotic California and our sunshine. No, eventually my letter writing was directed at long-distance boyfriends. Full of loneliness and angst, I’m sure. And some of those letters I received told me stories about worlds I couldn’t imagine. I wish that I’d saved some of these letters… but with each ending I burned the volume of paper that witnessed to a romance best forgotten. Even I couldn’t miss the irony of lust burning, despite having only written experience with the subject. Perhaps they weren’t as provocative as they felt at the time, but I knew this much, it was best not to keep them lying around. If they shocked me, I’m sure my parents would have converted just to pack me off to the nearest convent had they read them.

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