Good thing my folks were teachers, because otherwise this whole never-getting-it-right thing wouldn't be half so interesting. Today's bullet points:
- Perspective and a good night's sleep are tightly correlated.
- Transcendent theater can undo a bad day.
- When something unreal happens, take the time to acknowledge it. The next moment will wait.
I'm writing, obviously, from a strange mental neighborhood.
It's August 1; writing the 8 on my to-do list means that we have conquered July and all of its inanity!
It's also my parent's wedding anniversary - would've been #42...can you believe it?
It's also a full moon.
We had a dress rehearsal of a show this evening that made me laugh out loud, but also made me leave the room for wanting to ugly cry at its saddest moment. (the impulse was reigned in, but barely...see bullet point #1.)
Someone left me (well, could've been for my hubby, but I'm going to claim 'em) a beautiful bouquet of flowers on my porch.
There was prosciutto at work today. (WIN.)
I had someone tell me, in a concerned voice, that I looked tired. (I was, but I thought I looked ok? Hmm...)
The dog chewed up the sea salt carton. (Who's puffed up like a toad? Well...both of us. Forget I asked.)
In other words, the day's been a bit of a mixed bag.
My favorite moment happened this morning...I was walking El Diablo through a neighborhood park that follows a stream. About a pace ahead of us - really, really close - was a blue heron. Easily as tall as me, he was so quiet, so beautiful. He walked with us for what would equal about a block...watching the oblivious dog sniff at the edges of the path, watching me. And I couldn't stop watching him. After a number of steps he flew farther up the path, to perch on higher ground. But those few minutes of eye contact with a wild animal? Amazing, and humbling somehow. He didn't give a crap about my schedules and spreadsheets, or even about the art that I was making. He just wanted to know whether I was a threat or an ally...and I couldn't find the inner peace to be the latter, so I was automatically the former.
(Well, in my defense, I did have my attack dog with me. Milk bones and tennis balls BEWARE!)
It seems somehow emblematic of something else.
I've written before about transitions...how I struggle and rail against them even as I welcome them in. And, to quote someone much smarter than I, "Leave-takings are in the air." Artists that I didn't have the chance to really talk with are leaving for their next projects. In less than 2 weeks the offices will be so very, very quiet. And I will both cherish the silence and mourn the loss of activity, of people, of art-making.
(Harumph. I am more fickle than I had thought.)
Transitioning now to horizontal and sweet Lethe. But before that? Cleaning up the noxious mess that someone has deposited in the basement (UGH.) and making a pot of coffee for tomorrow morning. Thursday is a free day, which also means that my out-of-office is happily going up in mere minutes. And if I do nothing but drink coffee, nap, write, and make a decent meal tomorrow? I will have earned an A+.
Wishing you a day of malleable devoirs, of guilty pleasures, of naps and icy drinks and Olympics coverage sans snark.
I'm all about idle hands tomorrow.
(But the only bread machine in my house is called a TOASTER. Nick Shadow can suck it.)