I am at Rancho Utopia in Montrose, Colorado, the amazing home of friends. It truly is a Utopia, especially on a snowy night, when a girl's plane is late, and roads are icy and she's still an hour from home and it's almost midnight.
What a good day.
Today, I got to sit in on Ace's voice lesson and meet her voice teacher and accompanist. She'd already proven to me in her performance in Christmas at Belmont, that she's taken her talent to new heights, as well as her vocal range.
This was more intimate, a humble little rehearsal room. Instead of a black dress and tons of makeup and fancy hair, my girl had on sweats and glasses and a headband. She looked about 10 years old. She looked like the kid who always sang around the house for me.
But while she looks young, she sings like a person who's had some life and loss and heartbreak. I heard her pieces for her vocal jury. The last one she sang, had me completely teared up to the point where I couldn't even speak. All three, teacher, accompanist, and Ace, looked at me and I just had to wave them off, and catch my breath. The song was difficult, but I didn't know that, I was just caught up in the lyrics and the singing of it. Her teacher told her that was the first time she'd heard Ace sing it without thinking of how hard it is, instead, she was just singing it, then she pointed at me and said, "see, what you did?" I was on my second or third Kleenex by then.
We ate lunch at a Greek restaurant, felafel's and salad and took our time heading back to get me packed up and off to the airport. It was a sad farewell, but it was time to go.
At the airport, I learned my plane had been delayed for about 3 hours, so I set up my little traveling office and got to work. We were even later and it looked like I would miss my flight from Denver to Montrose, but when I deplaned I was told I had 5 minutes and could probably make it.
I ran and ran and ran and got there just as the agent was closing the doors.
Then I ran down two flights of stairs and down a long hallway and then out a door to the icy tarmac to our plane which was covered in ice. It was an icy trek out to the plane where I joined about 7 others to wait for takeoff.
The crew was amazing, cheerful, even let me off the plane to go use the ladies room when I realized how long we might be there. Another chance for a little run. When I came back the stewardess had brought me an armful of mini pretzels. She'd heard me say how hungry I was.
We landed in Montrose. My car was covered in snow, but as always she started up right away and my windows were soon defrosted, and the car was warm. I drove slowly over the back roads to my Tim and Sandy's mecca, Rancho Utopia. When I arrived, the lights were on and Sandy was there to open the garage door for me and settle me in.
Yes, it's been a long day, and not what I'd planned, but still a very fine day, better than I could have planned. Someone up there must have my back because I am one lucky human.
12.08.2009
12.07.2009
i used to think...
I used to think that I needed someone to experience these moments with me.
I'm talking about when I'm sitting in an audience of lots of random strangers and I'm watching my very own daughter perform. There's a hush, a wait for it, wait for it, wait for it, there she is....then she sings, or plays or both, and people are quiet, listening.
Myself, my heart stops, my breath stops, time stops, it's that moment, when I realize I don't need someone there to go "wow, that's great" to make it great. It just, is. Great. A moment in time.
Years ago, these moments made me feel lonely and sad because I wanted someone to take us out for pizza afterwards and go "damn look how cool we are." Now, I know that making snacks and drinking wine and having slivers of chocolate afterwards while we're a bit giddy and a lot happy are enough. Knowing that you're here because I am feels momentous and lucky. The happiest accident.
I used to feel lonely when I was proud. Now I feel connected, me and that audience of mostly strangers, we'll celebrate you together.
I'm talking about when I'm sitting in an audience of lots of random strangers and I'm watching my very own daughter perform. There's a hush, a wait for it, wait for it, wait for it, there she is....then she sings, or plays or both, and people are quiet, listening.
Myself, my heart stops, my breath stops, time stops, it's that moment, when I realize I don't need someone there to go "wow, that's great" to make it great. It just, is. Great. A moment in time.
Years ago, these moments made me feel lonely and sad because I wanted someone to take us out for pizza afterwards and go "damn look how cool we are." Now, I know that making snacks and drinking wine and having slivers of chocolate afterwards while we're a bit giddy and a lot happy are enough. Knowing that you're here because I am feels momentous and lucky. The happiest accident.
I used to feel lonely when I was proud. Now I feel connected, me and that audience of mostly strangers, we'll celebrate you together.
12.02.2009
A chill in the air
The first moments after she passed, I walked past her room and there it was, a chill in the air.
A chill, definite and bone tingling, unexplainable by heating vents and duct systems. Yet, when the cleaning lady met me in the door where I stood, she said, it's not unusual, often she feels a hand on her shoulder when she cleans a room where someone has died.
Peaceful, absolutely.
Pain free, yes.
Still, a transition, and the chill is the dust left in the wake, the spin of the wheels, the tread marks of the life that left us to go...someplace else.
Hospice work is for the faint of heart. It is perfect for those of us who think too much. It is right for anyone who can see that we are all more than our bodies and hair style and clothing selections. Underneath all of that is what some call our essence, others call our soul, and what I call, the funky juice of our lives. The memories, desires, worries, they don't live there, this part is all living, present presence.
At least, that's what I think.
I mean...that's what I know because I felt in when I walked past, the chill, still tingling, expanded in the air it left behind like the softest snowy, dust of a life.
A chill, definite and bone tingling, unexplainable by heating vents and duct systems. Yet, when the cleaning lady met me in the door where I stood, she said, it's not unusual, often she feels a hand on her shoulder when she cleans a room where someone has died.
Peaceful, absolutely.
Pain free, yes.
Still, a transition, and the chill is the dust left in the wake, the spin of the wheels, the tread marks of the life that left us to go...someplace else.
Hospice work is for the faint of heart. It is perfect for those of us who think too much. It is right for anyone who can see that we are all more than our bodies and hair style and clothing selections. Underneath all of that is what some call our essence, others call our soul, and what I call, the funky juice of our lives. The memories, desires, worries, they don't live there, this part is all living, present presence.
At least, that's what I think.
I mean...that's what I know because I felt in when I walked past, the chill, still tingling, expanded in the air it left behind like the softest snowy, dust of a life.
11.01.2009
here there and back again
Part 1 - Honda in the Snow.
It was only last week, early, that I drove over the mountains to the big city, chasing the snow storm. My little Honda, content in the right lane, slowly climbed elevation to reach and crest a mountain pass that was noted by the flashing highway signs as having "icy conditions." Phew.
Once in Denver, we made our way to my Denver place, a bedroom I stay in once a week while I'm attending classes. Snow was threatening, much of it.
I got to work, bought some wine, crawled up on my simple bed and got to reading about history and multiculturalism while I put the finishing touches on a 10-page essay.
Phew.
The next morning, I woke up, as usual. I looked out the window. My car was missing under 10 inches of snow, some flakes, some drifts. Snow was still falling outside in that white, wet, cold land that yesterday had been so different. All day I stayed in that house with my roomie and her visiting boyfriend. The interloper, that was me. We ate pancakes and finished off all of the coffee. I shared my honeycrisp apples. Classes were cancelled. ADD set in, and focusing was futile. I made it out for a few hours to get more coffee. Coffee. Yes. Coffee. Then sleep.
The next morning, more snow, more snow, more snow. Classes were cancelled but my flight to Nashville was on. I left early. The house, that is. Down the front steps to where my Honda was packed solid in the snow, an avalanche was waiting to happen. I opened and closed doors and trunk, and big drifts of snow fell. But wait, there was more. Using my ice scraper as a "shovel", I dug the little car out. Snow was up to its little canckles. Snow was hugging it's little tail pipe and bumpers. Snow, snow, snow.
I drove it up and back, and up and back and dug some more.
Finally, we slid away from the edge of the street where there was traction and slush and off we went.
Being who I am, I do not let a little weather stop me. I do not, did not, as yet believe that it could stop me. I respect ice and snow, but I will not be one that stays behind in the storm when a plane is waiting to take me to Nashville. I drove to the little train station, the DINK, the little public transport option. No parking overnight.
I didn't think about it, just drove to the highway and slowly merged onto the icy road with all the other folks who are like me, a little to confident for their own good.
Unfortunately, or fortunately for them, many of them drive ginormous cars and they like to go fast. I once again settled into granny gear and plodded on my way, slowly and surely, the turtle would emerge in once piece, as the story goes.
And we did. We made it across flyovers and through exits and down roads where police lights flashed and other drivers, the "hares" amongst us, were stuck together, fender to door. We plodded on. 10 miles to the airport, 9, 8, another big collision, this one all cop cars, a big PoPo wreck. I waved virtually and traveled on to the extended stay parking lot where I found the very last spot, unloaded my car and made my way to the the little place where we wait to be picked up.
I waited and waited.
I saw movement in another kiosk and headed over, the snow blowing wet and cold, my coat an snow boots back on the other side of the valley, I pulled up my hoodie and trekked over to find a group of cold people waiting. They motioned me to the heater and we waited together...and waited and finally a bus arrived.
Warm again, we unfolded into the bus, sat and rubbed our hands and were delivered at the airport...where I began my second journey....
coming soon in Part 2: Southwest Airlines - they do their best.
It was only last week, early, that I drove over the mountains to the big city, chasing the snow storm. My little Honda, content in the right lane, slowly climbed elevation to reach and crest a mountain pass that was noted by the flashing highway signs as having "icy conditions." Phew.
Once in Denver, we made our way to my Denver place, a bedroom I stay in once a week while I'm attending classes. Snow was threatening, much of it.
I got to work, bought some wine, crawled up on my simple bed and got to reading about history and multiculturalism while I put the finishing touches on a 10-page essay.
Phew.
The next morning, I woke up, as usual. I looked out the window. My car was missing under 10 inches of snow, some flakes, some drifts. Snow was still falling outside in that white, wet, cold land that yesterday had been so different. All day I stayed in that house with my roomie and her visiting boyfriend. The interloper, that was me. We ate pancakes and finished off all of the coffee. I shared my honeycrisp apples. Classes were cancelled. ADD set in, and focusing was futile. I made it out for a few hours to get more coffee. Coffee. Yes. Coffee. Then sleep.
The next morning, more snow, more snow, more snow. Classes were cancelled but my flight to Nashville was on. I left early. The house, that is. Down the front steps to where my Honda was packed solid in the snow, an avalanche was waiting to happen. I opened and closed doors and trunk, and big drifts of snow fell. But wait, there was more. Using my ice scraper as a "shovel", I dug the little car out. Snow was up to its little canckles. Snow was hugging it's little tail pipe and bumpers. Snow, snow, snow.
I drove it up and back, and up and back and dug some more.
Finally, we slid away from the edge of the street where there was traction and slush and off we went.
Being who I am, I do not let a little weather stop me. I do not, did not, as yet believe that it could stop me. I respect ice and snow, but I will not be one that stays behind in the storm when a plane is waiting to take me to Nashville. I drove to the little train station, the DINK, the little public transport option. No parking overnight.
I didn't think about it, just drove to the highway and slowly merged onto the icy road with all the other folks who are like me, a little to confident for their own good.
Unfortunately, or fortunately for them, many of them drive ginormous cars and they like to go fast. I once again settled into granny gear and plodded on my way, slowly and surely, the turtle would emerge in once piece, as the story goes.
And we did. We made it across flyovers and through exits and down roads where police lights flashed and other drivers, the "hares" amongst us, were stuck together, fender to door. We plodded on. 10 miles to the airport, 9, 8, another big collision, this one all cop cars, a big PoPo wreck. I waved virtually and traveled on to the extended stay parking lot where I found the very last spot, unloaded my car and made my way to the the little place where we wait to be picked up.
I waited and waited.
I saw movement in another kiosk and headed over, the snow blowing wet and cold, my coat an snow boots back on the other side of the valley, I pulled up my hoodie and trekked over to find a group of cold people waiting. They motioned me to the heater and we waited together...and waited and finally a bus arrived.
Warm again, we unfolded into the bus, sat and rubbed our hands and were delivered at the airport...where I began my second journey....
coming soon in Part 2: Southwest Airlines - they do their best.
10.24.2009
Apologies Dear Readers
I know many of you read this blog. According to Google Analytics, either there are people reading my blog, or spam trolls on it, pretty regularly from the same locales.
I know it's been sparse and that is because my life has been rich and full and there have been ample writing opps out in the real, as opposed to the virtual, world. There is a lot of life happening happening right now. In fact, the Bird Man just walked past my house, sparking off a big dog bark session...sigh.
At any rate, I don't have time to blog so much anymore, even on holidays...or days off.
I'm living and doing.
Grad school is taking a chunk of time and I'm willing to give time to that.
The man takes a bit, too, again, mutual.
Then there's driving to Denver once a week...8 hours.
And sleeping.
And not exercising...that is going to change very very soon.
I appreciate you all and I hope you check this space often. As soon as my first quarter of school is out, I will be back.
Truly.
xoxo
I know it's been sparse and that is because my life has been rich and full and there have been ample writing opps out in the real, as opposed to the virtual, world. There is a lot of life happening happening right now. In fact, the Bird Man just walked past my house, sparking off a big dog bark session...sigh.
At any rate, I don't have time to blog so much anymore, even on holidays...or days off.
I'm living and doing.
Grad school is taking a chunk of time and I'm willing to give time to that.
The man takes a bit, too, again, mutual.
Then there's driving to Denver once a week...8 hours.
And sleeping.
And not exercising...that is going to change very very soon.
I appreciate you all and I hope you check this space often. As soon as my first quarter of school is out, I will be back.
Truly.
xoxo
10.01.2009
October, Rocktober
What I love about October,
Honeycrisp apples
my birthday
Halloween candy (but not so much Halloween)
cool mornings
cool evenings
a nip in the air
boot weather
crispy brown leaves underfoot
orange, red and yellow leaves still dangling off tree branches
the dogs are crazy
and I am too.
What I love about school
my teachers
my school friends
notebooks
pens
writing papers
staying up late cause I'm too into it to go to sleep
the people are nice
the guy at the starbucks in avon calls me 'love'
Honeycrisp apples
my birthday
Halloween candy (but not so much Halloween)
cool mornings
cool evenings
a nip in the air
boot weather
crispy brown leaves underfoot
orange, red and yellow leaves still dangling off tree branches
the dogs are crazy
and I am too.
What I love about school
my teachers
my school friends
notebooks
pens
writing papers
staying up late cause I'm too into it to go to sleep
the people are nice
the guy at the starbucks in avon calls me 'love'
9.24.2009
teacher's pet - teacher's pet - teacher's pet
Okay, so I brought an apple to class...
No, I didn't.
But the teachers do like me. I'm inquisitive, which means, of course, that I like to talk and ask questions. I love to raise my hand!
Seriously.
We're talking about things that matter...justice and injustice and neutrality and why and where and how and starting where they are where we are and why are we there.
I get a twinkle.
The teacher's love the kid with the twinkle.
Oh,
and
Yes, I do sit on the front row...most of the time.
No, I didn't.
But the teachers do like me. I'm inquisitive, which means, of course, that I like to talk and ask questions. I love to raise my hand!
Seriously.
We're talking about things that matter...justice and injustice and neutrality and why and where and how and starting where they are where we are and why are we there.
I get a twinkle.
The teacher's love the kid with the twinkle.
Oh,
and
Yes, I do sit on the front row...most of the time.
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