Veazey Mail Box

I couldn't stand it.  10 days and I had to pick the gauntlet up again.

My new blog is:  Veazey Mail Box.

come and visit!  now!


http://veazeymailbox.blogspot.com/2010/09/something-in-mailbox.html

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

What I did on my summer vacation was write Thursday Chronicles.  Now it's September and instead of contemplating coffee bubbles and font types, I'm teaching piano, directing choir rehearsals, seeing Reiki clients, and wedging in time with my family.

I'm grieving the farewell to Thursday Chronicles.  My flegling was just barely hatched.  Hopefully it will reincarnate before long.  Thanks to all of you for reading!

Travel or Travail

The excitement and dread of it.  Driving to unknown territory in Pennsylvania.  Five days away from my family.  Loneliness and euphoria all mixed up together.  The pain of packing.  Will it be hot or cold?  Will I get lost?  Will Hurricane Earl sweep me away?

Here's what I'm bringing:

• coffee
• electric kettle
• plastic cone
• filters
• mug

I'm staying in a very nice hotel that probably serves coffee, but unless I have a certain kind of hair-on-your-chest French Roast, I am not fit to meet the day.

I'm also bringing:

• clothes
• toiletries
• umbrella
• 2 notebooks
• 4 pens
• 18 books

I'm not bringing my computer.  Without "The Screened Beast" my little hotel room will take on the ambiance of a retreat cell.  The cleansing quality of a Lenten Fast.  What do you mean I don't need 18 books on a retreat?

I'll bring my credit card and some money for food and potential non-caffeine liquid necessities.  I'll call my husband every night because I miss him even though I want to get away, but I miss him.  I won't call my son because he's 17 and I don't think that's the way these things work.  But when I get home I'll kidnap him and take him out for hot chocolate and cannoli.  I'll ruffle his marvelous red hair and tell him how much I missed him.

Kinky

I should quit this habit.  Andrea told me to my face that she thinks it's dirty.  You wouldn't imagine me to be the kind of person to collect these things.  I don't know a single other person who does, but thankfully, my husband understands the fetish and plays along.  I have read on the internet about people like me, and sometimes when I'm alone I sit around in the afternoon and google images. 

It happened again today on my walk home.  I saw one by the sidewalk.

That's right. 

I had to pick it up and bring it home. 

Wash it off and save it in a bowl.

Last night I dreamed I had a beautiful blue bottle cap with white writing.  Lots of white writing.  More than one would expect on a bottle cap.

Dog Days of Summer

This happened once before - years ago when we were vacationing in the Adirondacks.  I had signed up for a class in birch bark art.  At cocktail time I ran into the teacher who said, "Why weren't you in class today?"  "Oh, I'm signed up for the Wednesday class."  "Today is Wednesday."  I had entered into the fullness of vacation mode.

I posted a blog yesterday, thinking it was Thursday.  That doesn't mean I have Early Onset Altzheimers does it?  Tell me it doesn't. 

I just finished reading "Still Alice" by Lisa Genova.  The book is a fictional, but realistic account of a 50-year-old Harvard psychology professor losing her memory.  I couldn't put it down, wondering if I was reading about my future.  Now every time I walk into a room and say, "What did I come in here for?" I think of Alice in the novel.  Fortunately this hasn't yet happened to me in a bathroom stall.

I'm just enjoying the dog days of summer.

The Lure of Print

When I started playing organ in high school it was a thrill to see my name in the church bulletin.  "Diane Lewis, Organist"  I fingered the bulletin admiring my name in print.  The page said I was An Organist and so I must be one.

Now my thrill is tossing words up on the screen.  The font is Arial and each little p d q looks perfect.  Orange headlines herald Important Topics Everyone Wants To Read.  Official.  Published.

But things are turning full circle.

Today I thought of handwriting's intimacy - more precious now that it's rare.  Visual imprints of dear ones from far away.  Casual words.  Easy to take for granted.

My teachers' handwriting.  Mary Stanton's red G # scrawled on the Chopin score.  The assignment book with detailed instructions from David Almond.  Jeffrey's neat rune print.   Attentive letters from Alex.  Christmas cards from Marilyn signed "Blessings" or "As always" saved in a shoe box.

Getting Things Done

Today is my day for planning fall piano teaching.  This is written in my calendar to keep me from procrastinating.   It started well.  I made new student records, tranferred notes from old records, printed student materials, and created a neon yellow index card to remind me of my new year's teaching resolutions. 

Then I thought I'd take a little break and read some Blogs of Note.  I love this one:  looseleafwriting.blogspot.com.   It looked like it might give me helpful hints on writing, so I read quite a bit it of before I went to yoga.  When I came home I really needed a shower, and then my towel was wet, so it seemed like a good time to do the laundry and I practiced a little while the clothes were in the washer.  Then I was hungry and while I was in the fridge I noticed an aging lemon.  I haven't make a lemon cake in years!  The only problem was flour, so I made a quick trip to the store.  When I got home I noticed those spots that I've been meaning to scrub off the living room floor all summer, which made me thirsty and what better thing to do while drinking a diet coke than read more of that blog to get ideas about writing, which made me think of putting up a new posting, even though it isn't even Thursday!