November 24, 2006

11:49 a.m.

Wednesday, November 8
Somewhere in Ohio

We open for Gordon Bok tomorrow at The Ark, a wonderful and very coveted venue in Ann Arbor, Michigan. It's Bok's final tour; he's retiring from music. We were lucky to get the slot. We're doing either three or four songs. The gig will kick off our third Midwest tour this year.

I'm feeling a little off tonight; I'm cozy in a motel, and everything's okay, but somehow feeling vulnerable and ready to be attacked. Why, I wonder?

I brought road food so I didn't have to go out for dinner. Cold zucchini, sweet dumpling squash and some leftover Annie's sort of lasagna thing. I drove a little over 500 miles today; about 220 left tomorrow. My mates left late so they're probably 80 miles behind me tonight.

***

I just talked to James and told him about my funk. I've been thinking about my mother a great deal lately, because I'm putting together a story collection about people's mums and I've been mulling over what I would write about her; also it was Hallowe'en, and I kept thinking about the veil being thin and that maybe she could hear me a little better than usual. James wondered if my vulnerable feelings were related to that, and I don't know. I think there's a place where hurt feelings are stored and once in a while it gets jostled open. Like from way back, adolescence. James suggested I write a letter to my younger self and reassure her it was going to be okay. It sounds like a good idea, and it's similar to the walking-in-the-woods fantasy I've had for years (meeting one's younger self on the path), so I thought I'd go ahead.

Dear Adrienne,

You're now thirteen years old and living in the upper peninsula of Michigan. I know it seems like a Godforsaken place, and you don't have any real peers. The people you have been given as friends aren't much like you; they don't share your interests and you spend all your time trying to be like them so they'll accept you. I know this isn't satisfying to you and you don't feel you're self-actualizing at all. But pretty soon there will be opportunities for you! Nevermind that Leslie can do a handspring and she got into cheerleading and you didn't because you have a soft voice and no gymnastic skills. Do you know that Leslie will marry unhappily, have kids and get divorced? She'll struggle in her ways, too. She won't always be the cheerleader in the middle. (And she'll never be able to carry a tune.) You guys are friends by default; she met you at a time when you were very unformed and didn't know how to impress yourself on others. But what's happening is that you're forming inside. Where others seem tall right now, you are deep. You haven't yet learned to identify your bliss, but later on you'll find ways to manifest it and make it your life's work. And there will be people to help you.

As for mom and dad, they have their own problems. Their journeys are hard ones, too. But they love you a lot, and show you as well as they are able -- even if you can't receive it right now.

What I mainly want to tell you is that, although you feel like less of a person than most of the others around you, your shyness is deceiving you. The truth is that you are smarter, more gifted, more eloquent, and more exceptional than they are. This is not to belittle them; everyone is blessed. But your IQ will test at 162; you will excel at nearly everything you turn your hand to; you will reinvent yourself with ease time and again because it suits you to do so. Your songs, your words and your hands will heal people. You were born with the caul. You are destined to touch the world in a remarkable way. Remember that as you go through these confused years, and the years to come when you grasp at love in the guise of clueless men. Some things you learn quickly; others wll come to you with painful slowness, like angels walking when you call for help. Every hard experience you endure will fill you with compassion. Every rejection will help you accept someone who struggles with self-doubt. When your mentors come, they will teach you the value of encouragement and opportunity, and they will heal a world of wounds in you.

I am writing to you from your late 40s. I sometimes try to put on your eyes again, the eyes of such a young girl, and then look up into the mirror at my 40s face and see if I'm startled at what I'll become! So far so good. I wish you could see yourself. I try to think of mom (your mother; my mother) when she was this age. Did she have similar feelings about her face? Did she play a similar game?

Remember that most of the people who hurt you are really full of shit; you just can't see it. If you could, they wouldn't be able to hurt you, would they? Your blessed imagination will invent all sorts of people, that people won't turn out to be. It's okay. We all do it. You'll figure it out; the angels sometimes walk slowly but they come.

Singing is important; writing is important. You're going to love Reiki. You'll write some very embarrassing and self-indulgent poems in your late teens. Fortunately you won't keep them, and those to whom you show them will also forget them pretty quickly. You will get better at what you practice.

But, the oboe? You might not want to waste your time on that, okay?

I think that's it for now. I know, there could be much more, but you're going to be all right. Michigan won't last long. For once getting reassigned every year and a half will work for your benefit. And things will get better quickly when you enter 10th grade.

***

Well, I do feel somewhat bolstered. And now it's time to get some more ice for tomorrow's Edensoy, and go to bed.

********

Thursday, 11/9

What a sleep I had! I went to bed before 11 -- unheard of -- and knew I had plenty of time to sleep. Sleep and dream I did; I didn't write any down, but they were okay and I got up before the alarm went off. This morning I woke up feeling... I can only describe it as beautiful. Doing my hair this morning, and putting on makeup in anticipation of the gig, I saw a little of my mother in my face.

I also realized this morning that I'd forgotten my gig shoes. All I have with me are funky sneakers and hiking boots. The receptionist said there's a Payless nearby, so I'll go there and hope to find something that will do for this trip. Fortunately I have tons of time and will probably get to the venue before our schedule rendezvous anyway.

Hmm, rendezvous. I can't remember when I last wrote that word.

My Celebrancy class is bringing me a lot of joy, as well as the stress of having a significant workload on top of everything else I'm doing. I wasn't able to get the coming week's homework before I left for this trip, and may not get online before Sunday night, so I'm a little nervous about not having it together for this Tuesday when the online class session resumes. At least we'll be staying with people who have a h/s connection and I'll do what I can. I get home late-ish on the day before the next class, so that'll be a scramble too. But then there are no more long trips until mid January so I have time to redeem myself as Teacher's Pet. :)

Rose is moved into her comfy condo and loving it. I think I mentioned she's in her 2nd post-divorce relationship now; I'm coming closer to just accepting that she's going to take no time to be alone. The guy is nice, stable & capable, has a niece who is adorable, and he seems crazy about her. Let us give thanks and move on.

I guess I could check out any time; Payless is open now and I ought to hit the road.

********

Late Friday night, just past midnight
Ann Arbor, Michigan

I found some little shoes on sale on the way out of town -- not my first choice for gig shoes, a little casual, but comfortable enough and easy to pack. Even after going to the dreaded WalMart to get some gel arch supports, and picking up a Subway sandwich to have for lunch later, I still got to the venue long before anyone would be there. So I walked around Ann Arbor, looking into shops and getting a half-decaf coffe to suck on while I waited for it to be later. Why is outside-bought decaf so often bitter? No decaf I've ever made at home has been bitter. I don't get it. Do they sell the bitter stuff to the cafes because once you've bought it and walked out, you're stuck with it?

The sandwich was heavenly. I hadn't had a Subway veggie with honey mustard for a long time, and I ate the whole thing on Interstate 80.

When my mates arrived we loaded in, and waited for the headliner to arrive and sound check so we could go. We played a very short set, so it was overwith pretty quickly, and we got to hang around and listen to Gordon play, and eat free popcorn. Between dinner and the popcorn I consumed enough salt to shock a horse. Hey, maybe I won't have to get up and pee in the middle of the night.

Speaking of which, I'm really tired. It's the middle of the night already. Goodnight.

P.S. Remind me to tell you about my mother's wedding ring.

********

Friday, late afternoon

As part of my study of Celebrant ceremonies, my class has been talking about what a divorcing couple might want to do with their rings if they had a divorce ceremony. It led me to get out my mother's wedding ring, which resides along with a lot of her other jewelry in the jewelry box I inherited from her. She stopped wearing it when she and dad got divorced, some 20 years before she died. I know it wasn't a happy marriage, but it was something strongly imbued with her energy.

Because I'm putting together a collection of people's stories about their mothers, and am planning to write one about my own, I've been thinking a lot about her lately and I wanted something that would connect me to her. I have a red pullover blouse wth a built-in sort of necklace -- a length of red piping that goes from shoulder seam to shoulder seam. The blouse came with a rather gaudy gold disc -- looks a bit like a Christmas ornament -- which I wore last year. This year I wanted to replace the gaudy disc with something else, so I cut the piping at the seam, slipped it off and, for this trip, threaded my mom's ring onto it and sewed it back in place. It's not exactly the right piece of jewelry for the shirt, but it's a way to inaugurate having the ring on my person. I'm thinking of doing a cleansing ceremony for the ring when I get home, maybe burying it in salt for a few days, then doing a water and smudge purification, then channeling Reiki into it. I could write an affirmation that releases the ring from any sad associations, and honors both my parents for doing the best job they could while they were alive, with the tools they had. This might be more for my own benefit -- mom and dad, I feel, have long since come to terms with each other on the other side, and no doubt are more aware of the reasons things fell out as they did than any of us are who are still living -- but it may also be for the sake of the energy left in the ring. Things have a history, and gold circles hold stuff.

Incidentally, I've had some interesting responses to my call for writers for this book. I'm calling it, "Raising My Mother: Stories of the Women Who Raised Us." I've talked it up to a few friends who can write, but also put it on the band's newsletter last month and a few people have come forward from that. Also, uncannily, people from my high school years keep turning up - from California, Oregon, New Hampshire. And some of them are writers, even published ones. One guy's mom flew freighter/transport planes in WWII with the WASPs. Another worked with the Red Cross in Luxembourg. I'm getting excited that it will be a remarkable book. Though I haven't started my own story yet, I'm making notes. I remembered a dream I had about her, sometime maybe a couple of years ago. It might have been longer. I thought it was after she'd died but that doesn't really make sense. I could dig back into journals (I probably wrote about it here, in fact) and find out; it might be important. You see, I was in my mother's house (as I so often dream, though the house is always different) and we were talking in the living room. Suddenly I became lucid; knowing that I would wake up soon, I felt that I had to explain this to her. I tearfully told her that this wasn't real, that when I woke up I wouldn't be with her any longer, and that in fact she wouldn't exist any more either -- not in this form, and for my dream mother, this was all she knew. But I loved her so much, I told her; I wanted to make sure she knew how much I loved her. Then I took her by the hand and lifted her up; I taught her to fly, and we flew around the living room together.

And then I woke up.

Oh, I miss her.

********

Carol and I went out to Wholefoods, as they'd forgotten to bring their protein powder. Of course I found plenty of road food to stock up on -- pears, a grapefruit, almonds, soy chips, soy milk. Later we went into town (Ann Arbor is a wonderful place) and window-shopped. I found an excellent hat or two I couldn't afford, and many things Rose would love for Christmas, but I just decided I can't spend any money this year. It makes me sad. Carol said she takes pictures of things she can't buy (or cuts the pictures out of the catalogues) and holds onto them for a while. She said it's surprising how many of them she decides later she doesn't want anyway. I could go back tomorrow and take pictures of the hats. Or not. I could come to grips with my faith again and affirm that next year I'll make more money than I did this year, because of all the work I'm putting into my various careers. One day I'll get out from under credit card debt again. And stuff is just stuff. I can feel like myself without a hat.

A warm, plushy, gold-star-and-moon studded red suede box hat.

Sometimes I hate that life isn't just like Solitaire, where if the game isn't going very well you can just redeal and keep going.

It was chill and sunny this morning; now it's overcast, white sky, dull features. My bed is as unforgiving as a trampoline, and slightly slanted. The kind of hard bed that will break your shoulder if you try to sleep on your side. I brought my twin egg crate foam pad from the car and installed it for tonight; that and a thick comforter underneath me should ensure a better night's sleep. I'm also having some problems with a very sore jaw -- you know how if you eat really chewy granola all week that you're not used to, it makes your jaw muscles really tired? Big problem right now.

Okay, I performed vigorous oral sex last weekend. But that was SUNDAY. This is FRIDAY. I can't be that out of shape.

Tired in general now, after that cry over my mum. Maybe I can cadge a short nap before we go out for dinner.

********

No nap, but a brief liedown and then the house cleaners arrived, so we took the cue to go. Back into town; Shalimar, an Indian place our hosts recommended, whose food was not commensurate with my favorite local place at home. The korma was too creamy; the baby eggplants were not the Chinese (or is it Italian?) kind, but little round ones with the stems still attached. Each dish had an abundance of sauce and not quite enough mass within. Still, it was tasty enough and we walked in the cold night to the local Co-op, where we got Dagoba chocolate bars on sale. We also stopped into a local chocolate company and watched a girl stirring a large cauldron of caramel popcorn and peanuts.

Back at our hosts', we met the wife who had been asleep when we arrived last night. They're both brainy physicists, and she teaches physiology to high school students, by writing songs about biological functions. She was working on a round about what calcium does in the body, and we sang it with her so she could see if it worked. I thought it was a brilliant way to get information into kids' heads. She teaches the songs to the class and they retain the information by associating it with rhythm and melody.

Tomorrow we have maybe an hour and a half drive to our gig in Flint, so we'll have much of the day here to poke around, practice, or take pictures of hats. Can I just say that I know it's ridiculous but I really want that hat? Hiss, I KNOW YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND THIS! I'm going to take a picture of it just to prove that YOU, TOO, would want this hat. (I'm not buying it. It's $115.)

Okay, moving on from the hat. Ahem. I had a great talk with James tonight. His birthday is tomorrow -- I had thought for some reason that it was next Saturday, but that's because I'm lost without my calendar in front of me. Fortunately, my new phone will allow me to record the band singing our special version of Happy Birthday, take a picture of a birthday cake (if I can find one) and send them both to him. I also made him a cool card/book that has all sorts of neat paper layering and clever stuff in it, which I sent before I left home, with the instruction not to open it until the Day.

I've secured my traditional Thanksgiving invitation this year. My sister's veterinarians have a big bash with friends and family overflowing, two turkeys, masses of food. One year I got invited along with Rose and Mike and it turned out they couldn't go because they were in Kansas with Mike's folks. I went by myself, unheard of for one who doesn't mingle well -- I barely know these people and didn't know any of their other guests -- and had the best, warmest time. You bring your favorite slippers and leave your boots at the door. After the gigantic meal and a little digesting, everyone who wants to goes for a long woodsy walk with their 2 dogs. That was four years ago and I've gone ever since. Last year Carol and Chris were able to come with me, and we sang a mini concert after dinner. This year I wasn't sure what would happen because of the divorce. I knew that Rose and Mike wouldn't both go; and that I'd be uncomfortable if just Mike went. But, as it turns out, they both will be out of town, so I sent a polite inquiry on behalf of myself and of the band, and got a typical, robust, open-armed reply saying any and all of us were ALWAYS welcome and they hoped we'd come. It cheered me immeasurably.

********

I've realized that one of the reasons I haven't written here much in the last few months is that I typically do this when I'm on the road. I have not been on a longish trip in a few months. I don't know what it is about going away somewhere else that is so conducive to getting inside my head. I think if I wanted to write a book I would have to do it while traveling across the whole country. Or maybe just go to that hermitage retreat again. It really is freeing to step away from all the distractions of home.

********

By the way, regarding the above? About Rose being out of town for Thanksgiving? She's going to Texas with the new beau, whom I will call Rik since it seems he's going to be on the scene for a while. James and I went to Rik's for Sunday brunch last weekend, which was fun. Rik's neice lives with him -- he saved her from a horrible family situation -- and she's very nice, too.

We're about to leave, so there won't be time after all to revisit the hat. Sigh. Goodbye, hat. I had dreams of Dar offering to buy it for me for Christmas. Someone less worthy and more solvent will buy you.

********

Tuesday, Nov. 14
North Olmsted, Ohio

We've been here at Carol's distant cousins' house for a couple of days. We've had some nice R&R; I went on two good walks in a nature preserve, but today I could no longer stand that Chris is running every day, so I went out and got some colder weather running clothes. I successfully attended my online class this morning, and learned that there is no class next week so I get a respite from trying to do homework on the road.

I called Dar and after we chatted a while, I asked him if he'd like to buy me running clothes for Christmas. I didn't tell him I'd already bought them on his card. I don't normally do this but I was sure he'd be enthusiastic, and I couldn't afford them... He asked, "Is there someplace there you can get them?" "Oh, yes," I answered, "there are a couple of places I can look. Thank you!" Later I was talking to James and I told him I'd gotten some running clothes. He said, "Oh, rats! I was going to get you some for your birthday!" Oh, the irony! Oh, the poignance! I didn't mention Dar and the Christmas present. Anyway, the running clothes cost just a little less than the hat would have. And I suppose they're ever so much more practical.

Tonight we watched a DVD of a play our hosts were in a while back. They do a lot of community theatre, commercials, & so forth. (I keep hearing the line from Waiting for Guffman, "They're the Lutzes of Blaine!") It's been friendly being here but I'm very allergic to the house, and there's a certain lack of privacy. The three of us are bunked up in one room; their 50-year-old son is living at home right now while he's divorcing; there was another overnight guest the first night; son's two little boys have been here all evening doing an emergency-last-minute boy scout project of some kind. I went into "our" room (which is the son's room normally) to find them playing games on the television there. Things seem to be settling down now. Tomorrow night I'll have my own room in Columbus.

Gonna run tomorrow. Gonna feel good.

********
Forgot to bring a sports bra. Rats.

********

Wednesday, November 15
Columbus, Ohio

We're playing tomorrow at the Thomas More Newman Center. Apparently the Newman Catholics are very modernistic. I hear there aren't many groups of them; I believe they're also called Paulists. Father Isaac Hecker was their founder, I read here; his calling was to speak the Word "with the tools of the modern age." On the front is a picture (painting) of whom I presume to be Hecker, haloed with a little flame coming out of the top of his head; he's blessing us with his right hand, has a large crucifix with a miniature Jesus suffering thereon, and in his left hand is a scroll that says, "Our power will be in presenting the same old truths in new forms, fresh new tone and air and spirit." I don't know how, exactly, this presentation differs from presenting the same old truths in the same old way; but it reminds me of what my class is calling "reimagining ritual" because a ritual of 1,000 years ago might not wash in today's circumstances but, when revamped, can be very effective. I'm almost sorry we won't be here for a service so I can see for myself what this progressive Catholic branch is considering to be new forms.

Also I don't know who Thomas More was, then, and why they're called Newmans.

But what is more important is that I did run this morning, about 34 minutes, and though my lungs were slightly raw afterwards I think that was because I'd been so allergic at that house. By now I feel fine. My clothes performed admirably and I love them. They're comfortable, soft, stylish, and make me look broad-shouldered.

Oh, speaking of broad shouldered, the Fathers here are strapping and robust, for the most part. We're staying in the house where 3 Fathers live, and tomorrow one is coming back from some time in a nursing home, so there will be four. We were here 2 years ago. Once again I am upstairs across from Father Vinny (older than the others; neither strapping nor robust at this point, but very nice, articulate and friendly). We share an adjoining bathroom between our bedrooms, so there is a silent agreement about doors being closed, knocking, etc. We had a little smile about it at dinner. I told him I'd try to stay out of his hair up here. Could be worse; I think he'll be gone all day tomorrow and we'll be in, so I can shower in peace. The other Fathers -- Chuck, and Larry who booked us -- love their wine at dinner, and Larry is a Star Trek fanatic. They just finished renovating this house, and the built-in bookshelves aren't fully stocked yet. But he made sure to put his Star Trek Russian Nesting Dolls on the shelf in a place of honor. Star Trek DVD (special edition) set, Spock fridge magnet. It's very cute. Say, these Newmans are cool. Anyway, that was the broad-shouldered reference... love those totally unrealistic shoulders on Picard and Riker. Mmmm... Data. That's a fantasy for another entry.

I'm having a disgustingly excellent cookie from Wholefoods. Mac the Chip, it's called. Barley- and Soy-flour based. Chocolate chip with macadamia nuts and coconut. I wish I'd gotten about five of them. I am not going to examine the nutrition label.

It rained all the way here and is still raining. I might be running in it tomorrow. That's not so bad, right? You just get wet. If it isn't too cold.

********

Thursday, Nov. 16th

Decent night's sleep, ending with some wild sex dreams I don't recall very well now. I did run; it sprinkled on me a little but the sun was coming out by the time I got back. Yup, the legs are pretty fatigued.

We'll set up at 4 and then Father Larry will take us out to dinner.

********

Friday, late morning

It's so hard to tell whether people will come to a gig or not. We didn't draw well two years ago, and in fact last night by ten minutes before show time there was exactly one person in the huge sanctuary where we were set up. We were standing with Father Larry in the foyer area where the CDs were set up, feeling all embarrassed about it and making jokes like, "Should we do one set or two?" "Well, I guess it depends on whether that guy has a bedtime or not," and a woman walked in the door with a campus brochure in her hand. "Can I help you find something?" Father Larry asked. "Yes," she said, "I'm looking for... for, uhhhh..." as she flipped through the brochure looking for something. We waited, holding our breaths. "The concert," we willed her to say, "The folk concert!" She uhhhed some more and flipped some more, then suddenly blurted out, "The annulment workshop!" Deflated, Father Larry directed her to the elevator, and she went up.

A few minutes later, after one more couple had come in, the director of the annulment workshop came down into the foyer. It turned out that lady was the only participant in the workshop, so Father L. convinced them both to come down to the concert instead.

Eventually we had about 16 people including the volunteers. A bit sad, but they all enjoyed it and bought stuff.

Now I've got to pack. Bloomington, Indiana today.

********

Sunday, 11/19, 9:56pm
Somewhere in Pennsylvania

The Bloomington house concert was a bit better attended than it was in '02 when we were last there. That's not saying much -- I think we brought in 12 people. I set up my airbed in a room in the finished basement that was designated as Office and Paper Pile Repository. It was so crowded with piles of junk I just had room to put the twin mattress down in a little aisle. It always amazes me that a) people's houses get this way, and b) they'll allow guests to not only witness it, but sleep in it. We arose next morning and headed to our final gig in Woodstock, Illinois. Aside from getting lost on the way there for a while, we arrived without mishap and on time. It was at a beautiful hundred-year-old church, in a lovely round sanctuary. We had a good crowd for a change, including a few hardcore fans from Chicago. The sound was beautiful and we were fed and acommodated with gusto. A great gig with which to end the tour.

We were housed in someone's "spare" house -- no one lives there yet, but it's an older house with a historic Westinghouse stove and other slightly archaic elements. I lucked out with the fairly comfortable twin bed, but my mates tried to share the sofabed which gradually sank in the middle and part of it eventually gave way. Chris ended up moving to the air mattress in the second bedroom. We were short on sleep anyway, having 1,000 miles to drive home and wanting an early start, and they had a very interrupted rest on top of that.

And today we did about 600 miles. This trip was far better than the last Midwest run, over the summer, when, as I recall, I didn't have any fun at all. My IBS was grievous then and I wasn't feeling very well. This time I felt much better and even got in a couple of good runs (no, no pun intended -- I mean actually running down the road, silly). I had a very emotional morning and afternoon yesterday, suddenly out of nowhere feeling very bitter towards Will, just after a day when I was reflecting how good I felt about all that and that it seemed so resolved and past. Isn't that strange... just when I thought I knew myself, I'm back in a place I thought I'd left far behind. James thought it was related to my upper spine being all whacked out -- I have a chronic stiffness and his chiropractor says that area can affect emotional state -- and it also could have been that I was tired and cranky. Anyway I toughed it out in the car and by the time we got to the venue I was busy setting up, and then everyone was so nice we felt really loved and I was over the hump.

The happy news is that we made good money on this trip and, indebted though I am, I'm still going to apportion a bit of my earnings towards a much-needed massage. Very soon.

********

Monday morning, early

I just awoke; it's a quarter to eight. The note under my door says my mates left about an hour ago! I'll shower shortly, pack up and be on my way as well. Solo today.