First of May

May 1, 2011 at 11:49 am (Home)

She’s outside most of the day now.  Just look at her; what a beauty.  Bug hunter extraordinaire.  She also brought me a vole once, for which she got praises.  Remember all those mice I caught and released, the first two winters?  Now it’s the circle of life.  She gets to excel in her Catness and I get to not worry about rodents in the garden and the house.  I am not less compassionate; I am less lonely.

Our last Connecticut gig was last night.  It was oversold, but I managed to get family and a few friends in under the wire.  My cute bank teller with the hidden-under-sleeves tattoos also finally came.  There was a gathering at a restaurant afterwards, and I asked to see them.  They’re bold and complex.  He said he also has some on his back and I don’t know where else.  He also recently got a “Don’t Panic” in Japanese on his forearm, because he says there are often moments of panic at the bank, and it helps him to pull up his sleeve and look at it.  It turns out he’s in his late 30s, not mid 20s as I had expected.   He looks so like a kid.

Snow was also there, and it was a great night out for her.  She had a hard week; her stepmother suddenly went in for heart surgery a few days ago, and she was worried to the point of tears all day over it.  We laughed a lot and poked each other at the table.  “I’m not touching you!  I’m not touching you!”

Thoroughly satisfying; made more so by the fact that I was horribly sick all week with a cold, and got better enough JUST in time to pull off the gig.  It was a downright miracle.

I had other things to write about.  I’m too restless now.  I need to plant day lilies someone gave me, and clean this place — every surface is cluttered with stuff and I can’t stand it any more; I’m embarrassing even myself with my slovenliness — and there is bread to be made and a crockpot waiting for some ingredients.  I am happy about the gig.  I have a crush on my teller.  My fingers are a disaster, but that’s the only thing wrong at the moment.

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Fourteen to Go

April 5, 2011 at 1:07 pm (Home, On the Road)

The rain has begun at last.  It drums and tinkles and whooshes in the yard and the downspouts.  I hear it because the stoves are off.  Finally, a day relatively warm enough to conserve a little of the dwindling fuel; the wood, the pellets.  We got oil last week so we are rich in oil; like Scrooge I don’t burn it, just hoard it knowing I can make it last until the next cold season.

I took Smidge out into the raised bed enclosure for the second time this afternoon.  She only lasted five minutes before the rising wind began to scare her.  The makeshift cold frame over the strawberries — a piece of clear plastic tarp with clothespins — rattled in the gusts, leaves blew around, birds yammered across the yard.  It was too much; I managed to catch her and put her on my shoulder to come inside again.  She’s still too frightened outside to jump down and run off somewhere, thank goodness.

We are back from another New Jersey weekend.  This time we did two benefits for an AIDS awareness organization.  We’ve worked with them before; there are two choirs that participate, a small adult choir and a boys’ chorus.  They asked us if we would do one of my songs with both choirs backing us.  It’s lovely and hymn-like.  We had a chance to go over it just once before the first performance.  I almost couldn’t sing, it was so beautiful.

After the second performance, the adult choir director asked me if I was going to do more choral arrangements after the band stops touring, and I said I would love to, but I needed a keyboard or a piano for that kind of harmony work.  Moments later someone else said their mother in law wanted to give away her upright, and my dear friend Diane who is a brilliant pianist said she would go over and check it out and let me know if it’s worth coming back down to pick it up.  Karl said I could borrow the pickup truck, and all I’d need is a little crew on either end for loading and unloading, and I could have an actual piano in my house.  I’m not completely getting my hopes up yet, but if it’s a sign from the Universe about which way to go next, musically, I’ll follow it.  I’m listening.

Daunting, exciting, fun.

This morning I had fasting blood sugar and cholesterol checked, and a mammogram.  Periods are showing up like gypsies now, no schedule at all; maybe they’ll come, maybe they won’t.  I could do without the breast tenderness that seems to pervade, more weeks than not.   Just a couple more haircuts and all the blond will be removed.  Then it’ll be me, my dark nondescript blondish but not blond, and the gray.  I french braided my hair last week.  It takes a few minutes but keeps it out of my face, and people notice it.  It’s nice to still be noticed, even though it’s not because I have runner’s legs or a youthful face.

I really, really need a chiropractic adjustment.  The tic in my neck is so prominent now.  I need eight massages and five adjustments.  I just made those numbers up but they feel right.  I’ve been trying to work the microphone with better posture.  We used our headset mics this weekend which was very freeing, even though we can’t clear our throats or make mouth noises with them on.

Smidge is all healed up from her spaying.  She is such a love, purring on my shoulder, pressed up against my neck, depositing her hair all over me now.  I was hopeful she wouldn’t be a shedder, but at least she’s not a long hair.  She is still fascinating, amusing, miraculous.

Time to go to the endodontist.  The tooth that was so temperature-sensitive for so many weeks went into complete remission the moment I made this appointment, and it hasn’t bothered me in nearly a month.  I tried to cancel it but the receptionist became alarmed, saying, “But what if it flares up again and it’s an emergency??????”  I will not let them talk me into any procedure prematurely.   I guess I’m going so they will xray it and I’ll have a better idea whether anything is really going on inside.  Mainly I’ve ground the enamel off the surface and it gets sensitive sometimes.  But I have been very faithful about wearing my mouth guard, even on tour when it’s not convenient, and now it’s better again.

There is more; there has been brush clearing and porch clearing and woodshed planning.  It will wait til next time.  I am content; we have six more U.S. gigs, then seven England gigs, then one more U.S. gig and we are DONE.

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Just Before Texas

March 9, 2011 at 10:36 pm (Home)

Smidge has an appointment to be spayed on March 21, the day after I return from Texas and Missouri.

Aaaaaaand, she seems to be coming into her first heat.  At least that’s what I’m concluding from her yowling and slight, um… drippiness.

Tomorrow she goes next door for the duration of my trip, so Rose will have to deal with whatever is ahead.

The General Store in this village has closed.  Old Lily and Joe, who have run it for years and years, have retired and sold the place to some lady they don’t like who wants to make it into a dance studio.  Karl and I went by tonight after work to remove some scrap wood from their barn that Joe was glad to see gone.  Most of it will end up as parts of the chicken coop this summer.  Some will go to the dumpster at work.  We loaded until there wasn’t enough light to do more.  There’s a solid door in there that may serve for the coop, with the addition of new hinges and knob. Planks, 2x4s, 1x2s, and miscellaneous plywood.  A painted sign that says, “Labyrinth Walk.”  A weeding tool.  A section of wooden fence.  A good haul for free.

I’m tired.  Don’t want to go to Texas and Missouri for a week and a half.  But I’m glad to be away from work, too; there is a lot going on there, lots of scrambles to build and scrounge product for sudden orders, not enough lead time, many parts on order, emergencies every day.  Snow finds it hard without me.  Belinda is back from her three months in India.  It’s helpful to have her there, but also time consuming, as it takes nine times as long to have a conversation with her as with anyone else.  She doesn’t understand concepts easily, doesn’t think in a linear way, or maybe it’s just the language barrier, but it’s frustrating.  She’s so polite and timid, everyone wishes she’d just get to the point and say what she needs to so work can continue.  But she has to preface and overexplain and make excuses.  It’s hard not to get irritated with her.

I harbor a hope that, two weeks from now when I return, these storms will have passed and things there will be less scary.

So tomorrow is my buffer day, and I have a list.  Check the basement for rain water and vacuum it up with the shop vac; empty the vac.  Can’t go out the bulkhead yet, as there is still too much snow; so the vac will have to be emptied with 5-gallon buckets taken up the main stairs and dumped outside.  Fill the wood rick again and bring in pellets.  Possibly cut a tree that Karl downed at the bottom of the driveway.  Start doing the Reiki moving meditation I loved so much two years ago.  Clean the parlor wall of rusty rivulets from the ice dam last month.  Get a new comb; I seem to have left mine in New York state somewhere.  Do a load of laundry.  Comfort my kitty when she wails.

There is this rush to eat everything in the refrigerator before a long trip.  Tomorrow I must consume three tiny eggs, two chicken breasts, a lot of broccoli, half a jicama, half a container of Chob@ni yogurt, some soymilk, half a bottle of wine and a zucchini.  Celery and carrots can come with me if necessary.  I can take anything viable next door.  I am trying to eat only real food, whole grains and no sugar, though I ate chocolate tonight after dinner.  I panicked and got stressed and had chocolate.  There are worse transgressions, I guess.

It is in the 70s in Austin and the 60s in Missouri.  I can pack light.

Nice here, quiet tonight.  Smidge is sleeping finally, on her tall condo tower.  She loves that thing.  I’ve made a wide cardboard tent for her, about 14″ high, with windows in it.  I dangle her favorite bungee toy into the windows and she attacks it from inside.  Between that and the tower she can pretty much amuse herself for a long time… unless of course she’s wailing because I WANT TO GO I DON’T KNOW WHERE  AND DO I DON’T KNOW WHAT BECAUSE I’M ONLY FIVE MONTHS OLD AND I’VE NEVER BEEN IN HEAT BEFORE, BUT I JUST KNOW IT’S GONNA BE GOOD SO BRRRRRROWWWWWWWWWW!!

It makes sleeping a little bit challenging.

Anyway, in spite of everything pressing — taxes which have to go to our accountant tomorrow, cat stuff, house stuff, work pressures — oh, and the unrest with Rose still, which I haven’t even touched on — I am in love with my home, glad to be here, so grateful, and disappearing in episodes of Lost which I never saw when it was on of course, since I don’t get tv here.  I’m in the middle of season 3, and watching it every chance I get.  There’s even a Netflix app on the iPh0ne, so I’ve watched on the road too.  It’s my great escape.  I haven’t had one for a long time — which makes me want to pick up a Stephen King book, whom I have not read for years now.

Nearly time for bed.

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On a Thursday

February 24, 2011 at 6:38 am (Home, Light on Thrush Hill)

By a few more seconds each day, the sun is lingering.  In the predawn the moonlight comes into my bedroom.  It’s a half moon now, still casting shadows but not bright enough by which to do one’s homework.

I do have a little homework this week.  James, who is studying at a seminary to be a spiritual counsellor (interfaith), is using me as a guinea pig.  He’s posed some questions I get to think and write about for our next conversation.  I haven’t sat with them yet.  Right now I’m just getting through the work week so I can tend things like that over my 3 day weekend.

Smidge is bored.  She’s uninterested in her toys (been there, mom, done that) and has explored the house.  She mews a lot now, at me, in the next room, upstairs.  She’s a warbler, it turns out, which is cool.  Her meow does that rising “brrrrr–owwww?”  At first it alarmed me, her sudden vocalizing.  But she doesn’t seem sick — sneezes every now and then, but her eyes are fine and she’s eating and her bum is normal so she’s not in heat.  I think she just misses the stimulation she got next door with all the activity and other kitties.

She’ll have a companion soon, anyway.

Two nights ago she slept with me all night.  I’d had to take Sudafed in the evening so I slept for shit anyway, so her occasional walking on me wasn’t as disturbing as the fact that I couldn’t fall asleep anyway.  She did sleep quite a bit next to me.  Last night, though, she was too playful, so I put her out of the room and wore earplugs so I wouldn’t hear any protests.  She’s fine; she has many cozy places to sleep.

Anyway I slept better for being alone.

I just love her.  I smooch her all the time.  I can barely sit down for a minute before she’s on my lap, warm and content.  I can barely stand up for five minutes before she has leapt onto my shoulder (gaaaahh, time to clip the claws again) and is purring in my ear.

********

Thursday is my Friday this week.  I came back a little cash-rich from the last two tours (meaning I made more money than what I lost from missing work), so I bought a new camera.  It’s just a C@non P0wer$hot, not a high end camera at all, but it’s an upgrade from my old one that finally died, and I love that it’s small.  It’s also blue.  I have to get a memory card still.  Apparently I threw the old one out without removing the memory card.  Or if I did, I don’t know where I put it.  The joys of middle age.  I’m so forgetful and befuddled so much of the time.  Maybe the camera is still around here somewhere, but I looked everywhere I could think of.  I don’t remember putting it in the trash.  Heaven knows where it is.

I am home this weekend, and Dar is coming to visit either Saturday or Sunday.  I haven’t seen him in ages.  Maybe since Christmas.  Taxes also need doing this weekend, which means spreadsheets and some pesky investigation into CD sales and digital download income for the band.  Quick and dirty this year is my strategy.  We’re awfully late getting around to it.  Our accountant needs stuff by mid March.

Anyway it promises to be a clear weekend, though cold.  The jet streams have shifted.  It will begin to slowly warm up now.  Around 40 today, and maybe some stuff coming out of the sky by tonight.  I hear that bird in the distance, the one that lazily cries, “Heeeeee did it!  Heeeeee did it!”  I always forget which one that is.  Reminds me of Spring, though.

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Between Tours

February 21, 2011 at 9:03 pm (Fire, Home)

All is well here.  Florida’s second weekend was a mixed bag.  We got home fine, and I ate so much on that trip that my pants are tight.  Yesterday I threw out all the sweets in the house, with the exception of the chocolate bars in the freezer.  I don’t eat those regularly so they’re pretty safe.  But I had more junk food than real food in the house, and that was just unacceptable.

Since Florida we’ve had two more gigs, one in NJ and one here in CT.  Both well attended and good.  Now off Pred for some time, my hands are breaking out and itching like crazy of course.  It was a nice respite.  I so have to find money for a dermatologist.

Yesterday and today, with some help from Karl, I processed another third of the giant hickory tree they pulled down when I was away last month.  My chainsaw got a good workout.  Last week I arrived home from Florida to find I had about one day’s worth of wood remaining.  I called around and finally found someone who could deliver a cord, so there is a tarped pile in the driveway.  It’s two years seasoned, very dry and burns like gangbusters.  That’s good, but it means the stove doesn’t stay running the whole night.  That’s been a problem, having to relight it morning and night.  So I’ll augment with the fat hickory chunks.

I’ve decided to hire a carpenter this summer to make another back door, from the living room.  This is a really cool idea.  Rather than carry wood through the entire first floor from the back porch, I’ll build a wood shed behind the living room that will hold 4 cords.  There are recessed shelf alcoves on either side of the fireplace, which I currently have curtained off.  I could remove the shelves on the right and put a back door there, opposite where the wood shed will be.  Wood can be brought directly in next to the stove.  The curtains could remain so the LR will still be symmetrical.  This will remove one big pain in my ass, because lemme tellya, bringing in all this wood from so far away got old a long time ago.

I still like burning it, though, and I don’t mind the labor yet.

Homesteading things.

Smidge has been sort of wailing all evening.  She doesn’t have enough voice to wail, but her plaintive cries have been emanating from all over the house.  I called Rose and asked if she could be in heat yet.  We don’t know how old she is, but she seems awfully small for six months.  I have to call the vet for that appointment anyway, and she’s not too young for spaying even if she’s only 5 months.  She doesn’t *look* like she’s in heat, but she’s never been restless like this before.  She could be bored.  This household isn’t nearly as stimulating as next door.

Anyway, other than that she’s great.

********

I slept upstairs for the first time in over a year, last night.  Rose helped me put the back bedroom together again.  I needed the option of closing a door.  The plywood solution to keep kitty out was just cumbersome and silly.  There is enough heat upstairs from the wood stove.  A friend is going to cut a vent hole, but he wasn’t able to come this weekend so I’m relying on air coming up the stairs.  Meanwhile Smidge slept with me for half the night before bugging me a lot.  Since she woke me I went ahead and put some more wood in the stove.  After that I had to put her out of the room, but it was nice to begin letting her in there anyway.

Oh, I am so tired.  There are a lot of chores here.  I get up and vacuum the wood debris out of several rooms, fill and clean stoves, tend the cat, gather laundry.  We got back from NJ around 3am on Friday night, and I went to bed at 4.  I still haven’t caught up on sleep.  Driving is precarious.  I think I’ll turn in now and see if I can regain some equilibrium.

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Florida, Day Three

February 5, 2011 at 8:53 pm (On the Road, Trading Time for Money)

Finally we are at a familiar place. We’ve had three gigs so far. After tonight’s concert we drove an hour to Carol’s mom’s spare condo (she’s in assisted living) where we have stayed a number of times before. A couple of years ago Carol’s sister and niece came to live here to look after their mom. This time they’re both elsewhere so we have the place to ourselves for four days. It’s bliss.

I found the bedding and the double-thick egg crate topper for the foldout couch, which is otherwise all springs and metal bars. I’ll be comfortable enough. It’s after 1am; I’m beat. C&C have driven to her mom’s place to sneak into her apartment and leave her some meds, of which she has run out. The A/C is on to drive away the stuffiness. I feel relaxed for the first time.

We almost missed our flight on Thursday. It was the nearest miss we’ve had in all the years of touring. There was black ice on the roads, and I was delayed about an hour getting to their house. I was absolutely convinced we wouldn’t make it, but Chris kept his optimism foremost and drove like a maniac, and somehow we made the boarding line with about ten minutes to spare. It was incredible.

We really like flying Southwest. They’re musician-friendly and they board differently. For an extra ten bucks ahead of time you can get bumped closer to the front of the line, and you can sit anywhere once you get on. This time there was only ONE human on the plane before us. Even farther back in the line, it means we can find seats with an open bin above to put our guitars in. We try to choose the exit row where the seats still tilt back, so we have lots of leg room. They even have crackers shaped like planes. I think they also don’t charge extra for baggage.

Anyway we got our nonstop to Tampa and all was well.

Concerts have been very good this weekend, and we’ve gotten to stay with the nicest people in the world both nights. Just the kind of folks you wish you didn’t have to leave town right away so you could stay and get to know them some more. We did a live radio hour on WMNF in Tampa on Friday afternoon that we’ve done before. I forgot how hectic it is, working out sudden technical problems and having no time to warm up and being caught up in the headphone wires every time you try to take off an instrument or walk across the room. The show has to start on the dot, whether you’re ready or not. The DJ is very good, knowing how to stretch out the last 30 seconds or hurry it up to get out on time. But it was a bit harrowing for us. I was glad when it was over.

And we never have to do it again.

Between the two nights we’ve made almost $3000 in fees, not counting CD sales, which were light the first night and good tonight. Next weekend we won’t make nearly so much. Anyway I’ve already covered the time I’m missing at work, so I am very pleased.

C&C have come back, so we’re going to count the money now. 🙂

********

Yesterday I made the decision to go on Pred for a few days. I haven’t done it in a very long time, but the eczema is just out of control — I’ve even got it in my ears — and that’s enough bullshit, really. Tomorrow I’m calling an intuitive healer I met at a gig recently who offered me a free consult in return for the music we made that night. She said some very interesting things — that I had circulation issues, for one, which is true and getting worse — and that I should use toning during Reiki sessions, because, she said, “Toning and Reiki do the same thing.” It makes sense; entraining the imbalance to a new vibration. That’s what music does; that’s what Reiki is about. Cool.

In my absence, Smidge has been having a ball at Rose & Karl’s house. She seems to have a crush on Linus, chasing him around the house, jumping on him and then running away laughing. Linus just looks annoyed. Goiter has been either ignoring her or growling from a distance, and Arthur is completely afraid of her, as he is of everything. Diva the parrot makes purring and kissing noises to her. I’d say she’s having the time of her little life.

In addition to doting on my kitty, they re-cleared a ton of snow that was pulled off the roof last week to stop all the dripping from the ice dam. For two days before I left I was emptying buckets and wringing towels on three floors as the water came down the walls inside. It wasn’t pretty. There is so much snow piled up against the house now that we’ll have to pull it away with the tractor before it begins to melt, or it will all end up in the basement. We’ve had about 80 inches of snow already, and it didn’t even start until after Christmas.

They also split the rest of the snow-covered wood that was at the top of the driveway, and filled the rick in the living room. I can’t believe all this gets done in my absence. They have generous hearts and boy, do I owe them some sweat equity!

Now I have a stack of cash, I’ve had a glass of wine and a spoon of peanut butter (well, there isn’t much food here), and my bed is ready for me. I think I’ll go to that appointment now.

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Pre-Florida

January 31, 2011 at 10:16 am (Dreams, Home, Time)

Back again, and now three days away from leaving for Florida for 12 days.  Rose has suggested bringing Smidge over to their house for these long trips.  I agree, wishing she’d brought it up early enough that I could have acclimated her to their house (and other cats) before I had to actually abandon her for nearly two weeks.  But they are weary of dealing with the wood stove in my absence, and no stove means a cold house, and that’s only acceptable if Smidge isn’t here.  It is causing me a great deal of stress.  Upside is that I will save a lot of wood, maybe still have a couple of pieces left when I return.  There is no hope of cutting any more here, with the several feet of snow everywhere and the mountains of it thrown up by the plow.  I will end up ordering wood.  We ran low on wood and pellets at the same time; I have to pick some up today.  Tractor Supply has them for cheaper than CJ’s, who isn’t returning my calls anyway.  They don’t deliver, though, so I have to get them, and then transfer fifty bags of pellets to the pallet on the back porch.  I’ll borrow Rose’s chainsaw to trim some pieces I have that are a mere inch too long to fit into the stove.  The cord on mine isn’t pulling right now for some reason.

In prep for that I moved the last 14 bags from the old batch into the mudroom last night.  Three on the bottom had been chewed into by mice.  Not surprising.  I duct-taped them closed and brought them inside for immediate use.  Not much loss.  I wish there were a more secure way of storing them, though.  Anyway, between the shoveling and the hossing of fuel, I’m getting some upper body strength that I’ve missed.

My hands are flaring absolutely horribly, and I’ve found little patches of eczema on my arms and legs as well.  They wake me up in the night, itching.  This sometimes subzero winter is cruel to my skin, my lungs, my sinuses. I’m still highly congested and allergic, following the virus I had a month ago.  The snow is like an enemy that won’t leave the yard.  I’ve gotten snowed in here twice; if Karl hadn’t had machinery I wouldn’t have gotten out til Spring.  Even after the plow came last week, I could barely get out into the street, there was still so much at the mouth of the driveway.  He says I need my own tractor.  I’d kind of LIKE to have my own tractor, actually.  That’s kind of an exciting proposition.  We’ll have to keep our eyes open for a used one we can afford.  There is also the matter of wood storage.  I need a woodshed that is closer to the stove than the opposite side of the house.  I am imagining bumping out the pass-through room, where I’m currently sleeping.  It’s right off the living room.  Take out the window, put in a door (French door, windowed, so there will still be some light) and create another room beyond that opens to the back.  Put a window in it so the pass-through won’t be dark as night.  Stockpile wood in there and it’s just feet from the stove.  This will work best when the upstairs room is done and I can move up there to sleep.

And, dreaming as if money were no object here, if there’s a room THERE, we might as well build up and extend the little bathroom upstairs off the master bedroom.  Create a dressing room/bathroom, a little boudoir.  I love it when a bathroom is big enough to put a comfy chair in it.

Of course all this will wait until K’s shop is built, and I don’t even know if we can afford it any time soon, and do I really want to take on chickens with these projects looming as well?  (Probably.)  Last night as I first wrote about this I was so discouraged and weary, I could only think of the downsides.  Touring is taking its toll this winter, as I knew it would.  Things will look more hopeful as the days get longer and there is SOME hope of this snow going away.

I got home late yesterday afternoon.  Smidge didn’t leave me alone for five minutes all night.  She jumped on my shoulders a dozen times, put her paws up against my legs, sat on my lap, sat on this little table looking at me for 45 minutes, watching me eat dinner, her eyes blinking sleepily.  I love her desperately.

I deal with the resentment of touring, go back and forth, maintain gratitude for the money coming in.  I feed the stove and stay warm.

I’m going through a lonely phase.  So bored with no flirtation, no interest, no romance, no sex.  It’s been 3-1/2 years since I even kissed anyone, let alone had sex.  I think, who would want me now anyway?  Oy.  Sure, honey, I’ll sleep with you.  Let me just get my mouth guard, my breathe-right strip, my earplugs, and my A&D ointment.  BRB.  Last month my body had the nerve to menstruate.  Just menopause already.

I’m taking some Prednisone to Florida with me, and will decide whether to knock back all the inflammation for a few days.  I haven’t had to do that in a long time, so I won’t feel hesitant if this continues to be agonizing.

Meanwhile it’s going to be a busy day and I have my list ready.  Might as well get to it.

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Leaving

January 20, 2011 at 2:24 pm (Fire, On the Road, Trading Time for Money)

Apparently it is Winter, and there will be Snow, and we have to leave for Annapolis tonight instead of tomorrow morning.

I’m still adjusting to the rush of unhappiness about not having a full 24 hours “off” this week, as well as leaving my kitten for another night, but life will go on.

I cut and split a bit of wood, bathed and washed my hair, tended both stoves, paid some bills, and packed for the weekend.  Must still get to the bank and post office so those bills will arrive and not bounce.

The wood stove is a marvel; it’s been mostly between 70 and 72 in here with it running on low.  That’s up from 57, where the thermostat is set, and at which level the furnace would come on a few times a day.  I have made friends with the door to the stove.  It is a big square gaping thing out of which sparks can shoot like the fourth of July.  I learn to open the ash drawer door, let the whoosh of air stoke up what’s in the box, open the top door slowly with poker handy against flying cinders.  I got some very good, lined leather gloves for handling the wood and opening the doors.  Karl and I built a rick for the living room so it doesn’t all have to be on the back porch.  We got the outside pile tarped just in time; the following day there was rain, sleet and snow.  It’s been rather a mess here.

This was going to be a practice day, but there is no time.  I don’t care any more, how slick and well rehearsed I am.  My investment in this band has ended.  It is freeing; I feel myself moving from anger and resentment, the feeling of being overused, to the peace of letting go.  I don’t have to pretend that I can keep all these plates up in the air at once.  If some fall, it just doesn’t matter.

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Smidge, Week 6, and Some Other Stuff

January 2, 2011 at 8:24 am (Home)

We are favored with a mild weekend.  Most of the snow we got last weekend has melted, and in this early morning there is even fog.  The branches of the mostly dead, ancient hibiscus out the living room window are stark barley white against the morose brown of the descending woods.  I look out and think how we’ll clear that corner this year for the chicken coop, and then I am distracted by a bird high in another tree.  Down below I see that much of the grass is still green, though matted with leaves I didn’t rake.

This is the day my second severe virus in two weeks turns around.  The first hit me when Rose and I took our annual girly road trip to Northampton.  We shopped like mad on the Friday, by Saturday I wasn’t feeling so hot, and by late afternoon I was expelling in all directions.  I was grateful for a safe hotel room and a comfortable bed.  It passed fairly quickly.  Then, last week, I was hit by a horrible fever/bronchitis that is only now, on the sixth day, turning around.  We had to play a gig on Friday, the first day in four I didn’t have a significant fever.  I managed to sing mostly all right, though Carol took on more than her usual share of fronting, and I was completely exhausted by the end.  Got to bed at 2:30… Yesterday I coughed up massive amounts of nonthreatening matter and stayed in bed the whole day, my voice frail and froggy.  The beast sitting on my chest went from a large turkey to a small quail.  This morning, in the quiet mist and patchy snow of January 2nd, I think I might just be able to get to some laundry and grocery shopping… and bring another eight bags of pellets into the house.  Good lord, I’ve gotten skinny from all this lying around.

In the midst of it all, two interesting things have occurred:  Eczema is remitting a lot on my hands, whether from the December break we had or from my immune system going into high gear, I don’t know; and, my body has decided that, after four months of no periods, it will have a little spotty one.  I don’t know if spotting counts.  I hope not.  I want that thirteenth moon.

Smidge is fabulous.  Comfort kitty, companion, wild cat, chasing her tail all over the recliner, her feet drumming down the stairs when she hears I’m awake.  She had her second vet visit with shots and deworming.  I dote on her, of course.

Work is ever busy.  Snow is now irreplaceable, as am I.  Karl has made the wise decision to cut his hours by a day or so a week, as he’s burned out to the point of desperation.  Any of us would take a good business opportunity if it showed up.  In fact I think we three would make a great team.  We continue to brainstorm behind the scenes.

In the midst of refurbing the little wood stove I got for cheap, another, bigger one has been offered.  If I can persuade K to pick it up today we’ll assess and revise our plans.  We had to get oil again after only 2 months.

That’s all I have energy for, right now.

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Smidgen, Day 1

November 27, 2010 at 10:45 pm (Home)

So far so good.  She’s tuckered out and so am I.  Right now she’s lying on her new kitty bed next to the futon couch where I’m sitting.  Looking up at me through the slats of the arm support, eyes slits.  I cuddled her for hours in between her bouts of playing with stuff, dashing from bedroom through parlor to kitchen, wandering around investigating everything in her new, small world.  Rose came over to eat and schmooze, and Pearl came by to meet the 3-pound, 4-oz. baby.  She hasn’t peed or pooed all day.  I’m a little nervous but she’s been plopped into the litter box half a dozen times, and she only ate lateish this evening.  She wasn’t touching the kibble so I finally gave her a little leftover salmon from last night.  She inhaled it.  Likewise a little canned food.

I guess if I wake up and don’t smell anything weird, things have gone well.

I’ve taken ridiculous amounts of pictures and videos, of course.

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The vet said she was an extraordinary cat.  She suffered her shots well enough and didn’t bite anyone.  She is healthy and beautiful and between eight and ten weeks old, the vet thought.

Every so often she wakes up a little and looks up to make sure I’m still here.

Tomorrow I will have to come out of my trance and get groceries and go out to the laundromat.  There is also a wood stove to take apart and clean, and de-rust and repaint.  Life stopped for today, but somehow must go on.  I’ve banked the pellet stove; I hope she’s warm enough tonight.

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