Day One.

Monday.

Woke up at 5:30am as the cat used hubs' face as a pommel horse to attack the bird singing outside the window. Luckily, the bird survived, and hubs still has both eyes. (win-win?)

Wore a dress that I was contemplating giving away. And a necklace - I never wear necklaces. And flats. FLATS. And even though I was dressed as a total impostor? Managed to eke out compliments from a slew of folks, including a random police officer at Whole Foods and several colleagues. What's up with that? (Needless to say, I'm keeping the dress.)

Drove to Arlington to pick up our awesome company manager, who started work today. Forwarded at least 40 emails and to-do items to him. Aaaahhhh...life is SO much better now!

Met two of our interns (who are both adorable and supah smaht) and the rock star stage management team for Viaggio. We're in good hands.

Brain dumped all day. Really, I can't remember the last time I talked so much. Hoping I wasn't super annoying, but guessing that I might've been at least a bit.

Made it home with energy to spare. Thought I'd try to make something new for dinner. Total. Fiasco. One the likes of which I haven't seen in months. I'm either a kitchen goddess or I need to get out of my comfort zone more often. (likely a little of both.) 

Finally. 8pm. Sitting (aaaah) on the porch with 2 animals, a spritzer, an imperfect pedicure and a streak of self-tanner across my instep. On the docket for the rest of the evening? Dishes. A walk with the dog. Some yoga, hopefully without the cat staking claim mid-sequence to the very center of my mat. 

There's a slight breeze, making the trees' movement look somehow choreographed, like they're Follies girls practicing their routines. 

Keep dancing, ladies. You're lovely. 

My five:

1. Days that fly.

2. Good people.

3. Quiet evenings. 

4. Flip flops with little nubs on the insoles.

5. Beginnings.

I went to Canada!

(waiting for the Air Canada desk to open @ BWI)

And made it back! What are the chances??

The last time I was in Canada, I had taken the train up with my family and a group of my dad's high school French students for some cultural immersion.

We caught the train in Syracuse, took it to Montreal, and then took a smaller train to the Old City in Quebec. (On at least one occasion, the conductor let my brother and I press our noses against the windshield to watch the tracks disappear beneath the train and blow the whistle.)

I didn't need a passport.

I wore jeans and a navy blazer over my favorite Smurf t-shirt. My haircut was half Twiggy wanna-be, half little boy. (Mom called it a pixie to make me feel better, but my brother and I rocked the same 'do for several years.) I tried to watch the big kids playing cards on the overnight ride, and wondered why my parents wouldn't let me stay up with them.

We stayed in the Château Frontenac, on the St. Lawrence. I remember an alleyway where artists sold drawings and jewelry. There was a yellow house that was a restaurant, and we ate on the top floor, even my dad bowing under the short ceilings. I tried escargot and frog legs for the first time, and liked them both.

(the Bellevue Hotel is pretty close to adult candy. lovely)

It was springtime, and we visited a maple farm and ate maple sugar candy. I was happily adventuring with my family, and my dad was in his element, surrounded by kids and a beautiful language.

***
My return to the Great White North was less carefree. I needed a passport this time around. I almost missed my connection in Toronto, but the sunset in Vancouver totally made up for it. I hadn't seen geography like that ever, like giants had heaved huge boulders into the oceans during some crazy game of catch with their gargantuan labradors.  I was part of an exhilarating, busy, bustling conference, and while I made it out of the hotel a handful of times to sightsee, it was all within the city limits.

But, at a small store, there were tiny billets of maple sugar candy...as sweet as the candy I had tried as a 10 year old.  I snagged a handful - for my niece and nephew and a colleague.

And one for me. I may greedily finish it this evening. It conjures such good, good memories.

My five:

1. Sensory memories.
2. Travel.
3. Sunshine.
4. Occasional overindulgence.
5. Sugar.

Thanks for the lovely respite from pre-season madness, Vancouver. I'll be back, promise.

ramping up.

Not enough brain cells for narrative. So, bullets.

• Hubs and I spent a few days on a lake in Western Maryland. No interwebs, no phone (although we coulda had both, just opted out): instead? Books and hiking and lots of remembering what it feels like to disconnect. Verdict: I have to unplug more often. Sheesh.
• Spent a few days in the radio station with some alarmingly productive talent. We got seven (!) shows recorded, and it felt like buttah, it was so easy. While we were there I futzed around with video for hours...I wish I were better at it, but boy, it's fun to do!
• In less than a week I'm going to Vancouver! Unreasonably excited. Any recommendations on things I must do/see?
• I played two songs in front of people tonight. The first I got too nervous...false start, and then stopped half-way through so I could get to the good part without messing it up. I got there, finished it ok... The second tune, because I was playing in support of someone else, was easier, but still glitchy (new instrument, + a technology glitch. That was my fault. Ouff.) and not great. I'm amazed at how rusty that performance muscle has become, and also at how unconcerned I am about it. Because the reality is that I can play piano, and do so pretty well when no one's listening. And it seems that playing well for myself is more valuable than playing pretty for others. I'm happy about that, but I'm going to force myself to get out there a little more musically - it's going to suck, but I think I need to strengthen that performance muscle. 
• (I work with fun musical people. It's cool.)
• I'm reminded of how strongly I'm drawn to project work. I'm so happy to be thrown bum-over-kiester into a project for a finite period of time, and then tie up the loose ends and walk away. I'm always really excited about the summer - I need to find and pursue those things in my personal life. (She says, as she's about to give up all of her free time for months...)

It's the Introvert's Last Hurrah - a few weeks to store up energy before the summer. And yet, my schedule - professional and social - is busting at the seams. If you have rituals/traditions that make you feel relaxed, that help you to recharge, won't you please share them?

I'll be putting this little number on a loop, I think...

unstructured time.

I'm out of the office this week, and it's been lovely.

When I was in my 20's, my first teaching job brought me uncommitted summers...I had large plans for superhuman fitness, for artistic adventures and a focused march through the canon of unread Western literature.

I lasted 2 weeks.
Two. Weeks.

At the end of those 2 weeks? I was hitting the gym with fanatical devotion, had reverted to an almost nocturnal state, and was totally, 100% miserable. I got the first retail job I could, just to have a place to go, a schedule to keep...crazy only begins to describe me without a routine.

(Life lesson: the beauty of vacation is in leaving those comfortable patterns and schedules. But sometimes it's hard to leave them behind when you're not really sure what they are...)

But here, almost 20 (LAWDY) years away from that first shot at unstructured time? I think I might be getting the hang of it... today consisted of:
- coffee/journal/dog walk, same as every day.
- email/writing/editing while waiting for the refrigerator repairman.
- 90 minutes in the gym, playing on all of the machines because they weren't being monopolized by large, gruff, sweaty dudes.
- A massage, in which I learned that I not only have knots under my shoulder blades (Freddie and Stevie...they've been with me a long time), but also in my butt muscles. What the WHAT?!?
- Browsing at a bookstore.
- Erranding.
- Grilling shrimp, and then using them as an excuse to eat a whole tomato and a whole avocado alongside for dinner. (My love for avocados runs deep.)
- Reading magazines on the porch. Surfing a little bit, polling facebook for good stories.

I didn't get everything done on my wish list, for sure. But I'm feeling pretty rejuvenated here at the end of it, ready for an early bedtime and a good night's sleep.

A storm is about to blow in - there's a fantastic breeze in the air, and the flowers are trembling in the breeze. The motion of the leaves are making the streetlights and storefronts dance like club lights. There's one stripe of sky that is light grey, as the clouds and nighttime sock us into dark. If I were that 20-something on a night like tonight, I would be almost buzzing with possibility, looking for meaning in every conversation, every twist of circumstance. But I'm pretty happy to be sitting on my porch, feeling that same sense of possibility and excitement, without having to get all gussied up and talk to strangers. "Floating on the Lehigh" by Grizzly Bear is playing, and indeed, this floating feeling with the breeze and the night is quite lovely.

I'm planning to unplug almost totally for the next few days - to really make some space, to notice more small things, to leave behind the digital treadmill for a little more presence. (Case in point - I just noticed that this crazy tropical plant that I've somehow kept alive for several years curls its leaves up at night! They were unfurled earlier today, but now they're rolled like cigar leaves. Wow. Gotta work on those observation skills.) I'm guessing it'll let me hit the office -and the upcoming season - with a little more generosity and room if I can unplug.

Starting to rain. Time to head inside. Good night, chickadees.

priorities.

My house is a mess.

This is actually the usual state of affairs. I'm not a fan of dirt, but I have a high threshold for clutter. A scarf is tucked into the leather recliner, ostensibly forgotten when I was folding laundry last night. The blanket on the couch next to me is trying to ooze onto the carpet. There's a magazine or journal on the back of the couch that, when I look out the window, pokes me at the base of my skull.

Even with the clutter? I'm feeling pretty organized. Mostly because I spent 45 minutes this morning at the piano - my honky-tonk, have-I-tuned-it-in-the-last-year? piano that my folks bought for me when I was in 6th grade, and that I've carried with me ever since. It's bright, and a little worse for wear, but it's mine, and when I press the buttons it makes music. I made an appointment with the piano tuner for tomorrow, and sat down to see how bad it really was.

I won't lie - it's pretty gross. But I've played worse. (And let's be honest, with the lack of playing in my life, I've played better than I'm playing now.

But how I'm playing doesn't detract at all from the fact that I am, in fact, playing. Bach 2-part inventions (while keeping my foot on the floor - I'm a bit of a lead foot, gas pedals and damper pedals both), Mozart sonatas. Trying to get the fingerwork right on a Chopin waltz. Revisiting Debussy's "Fille aux cheveux de lin" and not only remembering all of the c-flats and f-naturals, but actually getting that shimmery inversion correct and in time. Aaaahhhhh... Notes on pages and fingers and ears and eyes all working together have a way of making me feel calmer, more organized, more capable. Dunno how, but it's the truth. And, since I've been doing it in one form or another for almost 37 years (oh sweet jeebus, that's a long time), it shouldn't surprise me that it's integral to my well-being.

I think that I walked away from a big part of my musical self when I decided that I wasn't going to perform anymore. I must've forgotten that the performing wasn't the thing I enjoyed, not really. I enjoyed the playing, the figuring things out, gaining speed and facility, speaking without words. And - no surprise - I still enjoy those things. I'm no pianist, and I wouldn't wish my practice sessions on any unwitting ears (the animals will just have to deal, I suppose), but I do love to play.

So what if the house is a mess? The mess will still be there after the next piece. And I just need to play one more...

Heinz 57.

Where to start? It feels like I haven't written in ages.

So, I finished 30 days of Paleo eating. I may have tripped once or twice and a glass of wine might've fallen into my mouth, but I mostly did pretty well. I found it interesting in that I couldn't write for CRAP while I was on the plan - too many synapses devoted to figuring out what I could cram into my maw, I suppose. I'm struggling with re-entry a little bit: I'm finding that my body hates things that it used to love (goodbye brie...I'll see you in my dreams. Or maybe in reality with a Lactaid chaser.), which is disappointing. And, in the effort to sort out those things, I'm wishing that I could stick to the plan, because I just felt so much better. Having all of these choices back is sapping my willpower. (I seriously ate 11 malted milk eggs last night. They tasted so über-sweet and wonderful! But I still feel gross today, and I had some of the weirdest, most disturbing dreams in recent memory. Malted milk eggs, meet brie. I miss you guys already.)

I've been drinking iced coffee like it's going out of style, and made my first big batch of cold-brewed coffee. I can't wait to try it tomorrow morning! I also made a pitcher of iced mint tea. I might make it my go-to beverage for the summer.

I had a totally happy accident happen today. I went to DSW to pick up new sneakers and browse, when someone called my name. It was a girl that I hadn't ever met. BUT we have a close pal in common, and that pal had connected us on the ol' FB. And while we talked about getting together, we hadn't...ever. But she recognized me from my photo, and we had a ridiculous blast chatting in the aisles of the shoe store. It very much felt like being at the right place at the right time.

How can we all not think of Boston? As my own way of saying FU to the cowardly F'ers who did such a horrible thing, I'm starting to run again. I signed up for this with some friends because there's no way I'd be able to run a marathon. But this will be fun and challenging, and I'm proud to be a part of the running community.

We're in the weeds at work, trying to do ALL THE THINGS before people start arriving. Lots to do, but it'll be WAY more fun once the singers and staff arrive. Before that happens, though, I'm heading to Vancouver for the Opera America conference, and am even sitting on several panels for their Artist Intensive. Gah. I guess this is the year I get over that whole Public Speaking thing...or else it's likely the last time I'll have to do it. (unintentional win-win!)

And, in fantastic news, I am nowhere NEAR as freaked out about my upcoming birthday as I was. The perspective shift is welcome and new, and it's a huge relief to be appreciative that I didn't kill myself in my twenties, rather than mourning the fact that I am solidly and irrevocably in Ma'am territory. (And believe me, I tried some crazy stuff in my 20s.)

Feeling grateful for:

1. Breezes through open windows.
2. Sandals.
3. Dogwood blossoms.
4. Pomodoro timers. (productivity is my new super power! well, almost.)
5. Chats and emails with good friends.
   

Serendipity.

Sometimes things happen in just the right way.

Yesterday was gorgeous - brilliant blue skies, mild temperatures - it felt finally like Spring might be sticking around.

A group from my alma mater was performing in town, to celebrate the retirement of Robert Page - a guy who was a mentor to me, took risks on me and most importantly stayed involved in my musical life even when I didn't rise to the opportunities he offered. (He gave me my only academic F. Ever. I totally deserved it. AND afterwards he wrote me the most wonderful, brilliant recommendation letter. I still have a copy of it, more than 10 years later.) I sang for him in the Mendelssohn Choir of Pittsburgh and taught for the Junior Mendelssohn, and used his techniques in every class that I taught. (I still use DWWR every summer in my current job.) And there's a secret fraternity of sorts that can be discovered if you use one of his stock phrases, the most iconic being "MY CONSCIENCE TIS OF THEE."

So, imagine my surprise when I drive to a Maryland hotel to meet KT - a pal from undergrad that I hadn't seen in years, but had kept in touch with on the ol' FB - for lunch. (She was in town to sing the solos in the aforementioned concert.) I move my car to unblock the hotel's circle, because there was a car behind me, and I see KT walk over to the other car.

And then I hear, through my open sun roof, that voice.

"LEEEEEE AAAAANNNNNNNE."

And I'm ready immediately to admit that I hadn't practiced the alto excerpts for today's rehearsal mea culpa mea culpa mea culpa.

It was Bob Page. Looking great after a 4 hour drive from Pittsburgh, still witty and charming and loud and Texan.

To have that short moment with him, and some time to pick up with KT (seriously, someone must've studied the phenomenon that makes chatting with college pals super easy...something about getting to know each other in one's Ur-state that makes subsequent meetings - no matter how far removed - so easy and pleasant! If you know of anything, point it my way; I find the whole thing fascinating.)? Well, it was a lovely, lovely day. And even though I had to miss the concert (I had one of my own, here, which was CRAZY good. I know, you're skeptical, but it really was wonderful!), I was certainly there in spirit.

So thanks, Universe. I'll smile thinking about that voice sliding into my sunroof on a pretty spring day for a long time.