This and That

Happy see see the binding facing out.

Sometimes I just need a break. Like when I prepare music for a program, drilling fingerings and timings so they sound natural to the listener, hiding the effort required, I turn to a piece I know well or improvise with no expectations, letting my hands do the work and my ears revel in the sound, to relax my brain.

This piece is my writing break. I’ve been working on essays requiring complex thought, the gray cells churning and, I’m convinced, aggravating the tinnitus that plagues me. So this piece is just for fun.

That said, I am at a loss for a topic. I could talk about 19-year-old Mowgli’s hair, once long and blonde, now chin-length and black, closer to Rudyard Kipling’s Mowgli. Each time he comes down the stairs, I think I am seeing Blue Boy whose once blue hair for which he is nicknamed is now a natural dark brown. Both boys have curls, of which I am jealous. I take a moment to reorient, knowing Blue Boy is away at school and Mowgli is taller.

Misha is working 24/7. She often cautions caregivers to take care of themselves first, citing statistics that caregivers succumb to death before their loved ones. I’m thinking she needs to consider her own advice.

C-boy and family are house-hunting, or condo-hunting. They are looking for property to buy in Chicago. Their offer $25k over asking was rejected. It’s a tough time for young homeowners.

Nini-Dair is counting the years to retirement. Retirement?! I’m just getting used to my own.

Mike is pulling weeds and balancing pool chemicals between hikes, hoping to add miles to his Arizona Trail log, and lunches with friends.

Luna the dog continues to bark.

I have scheduled cataract surgery, awaiting confirmation from the doctor who tore his Achilles over the weekend and may need surgery. He will see if he can manipulate the pedal with his non-dominant foot. I’m not sure I am comfortable with a student driver for my laser eye surgery.

We could use some rain, preferably a steady three days’ worth. Not complaining about today’s  break in the unseasonable heat.

I am not writing myself to death. After all, I am retired. I write for me and my circle of followers of which there are (not) thousands. An hour or two of deep writing wears me out, sending me to my recliner to binge on “Search Party” and word games. Reading, a favorite relaxing device, is difficult with cataracts.

Another favorite pastime is staring. Sitting on the patio, looking out at the lawn, the trees, the pool, the sky, the flowers. Just staring. Taking in the textures and colors and movement and sounds and smells and sensations which make Earth remarkable and unique. Knowing that, for a short time, I am a part of this incredible tableau.

At night, a few minutes in the hot tub, and I am ready for bed. Looking forward to tackling the intense demands of tomorrow, or another word game.