December 03, 2007

12:14 a.m.

Brightness on the Road

The sun is brilliant across patches of thin, new snow as we drive across New York state. I�m looking at old rusted bridges across a cold blue river. Earlier there were swans on someone�s small farm. As I write that, �Black Swan� by Bert Jansch comes up on my iPod. I see several ragged V�s of birds off to the right, heading for a warmer destiny. �Home is a long, long way away,� Bert sings. I am happy in the back seat.

We had a pretty nice little rehearsal yesterday, working on mainly new stuff. Three new ones on the boards now. Then we worked on the movie; Chris and I figured out how to get what he�d already worked up onto my computer. I�m looking forward to getting my hands on a section of it! We�ll be making DVD copies of the finished movie eventually and giving them to people who donated a lot of money towards our England trip. Until then, we�ll have this unadvertised link where they can go to see snippets. Of course, I know little about making movies, but I�m really delighted with what Chris has done so far. If anyone would like to view parts one and two in a covert and strictly entre nous manner, go here and click on either Part 1 or Part 2 at the top.

Carol has also gotten a MacBook, souped-up version. I now have our database and everything needed to upload website changes on mine.

If I could just get Chris to stop putting his fingers on my screen and leaving smudges everywhere, I wouldn�t have to spend so much time breathing steam onto it and rubbing it round and round with a tissue.

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I had a nice talk with James this week. He reminded me that this malaise I�ve been feeling is a cycle I go through. It feels a little different this time, different issues, but I let him tell me that whenever I have down time this happens. He could just be right. I am trying to embrace.

Maybe another hour to go on this ride. I am grateful not to have to drive this one, as my hip bothers me when I sit in my car for long, now. I ran day before yesterday and thought I�d probably pay a little for it. Laddies, I may have to stop running as I have known it. If I can find a way to be motivated in favor of some other program it might not be the tragedy I�ve feared. Bungees off the balcony? A swingset in the front yard? How about a velcro suit and one of those velcro walls to jump up on? THAT I would do.

I want eggnog and Christmas trees and shiny, exciting wrapping papers and the mysteries they contain. I want a hint of love, a possibility. I want a little magic. I want a meal everyone helped cook, and I want to really know, really be aware of, how excellent my life is. How much time and energy do I waste making up things to be worried about, that aren�t happenening right now? Today I have lodging, food, transportation, hair on my head and glasses that are the correct prescription, a job to do and the right clothes in which to do it. And I don�t have to drive. And the coming of winter is so pretty today.

Chris naps in the front seat while Carol drives. It�s 3:28pm and the Magic Hour is already over. This late Fall seems particularly dark to me. We�ve worked out a set list in the car, and are eating at the venue. Tonight is a repeat booking. Tomorrow we have a morning service and then we get to drive home.

I have a big week ahead but not too strenuous. Tuesday we�re doing a kind of workshop for the Connecticut Songwriters� Association, about promotional strategies. We�ll make a little music, too. Wednesday we go to the play with Dar, and Friday, Rose and I get in cahoots over our niece�s Christmas present. There should be time to make some decisions about tidying the kitchen, too, which has come to look like a mini-office. I can see myself moving from spot to spot in the apartment, as everything becomes cluttered with papers and things in progress. This, I find, is the first danger of going wireless.

I am content enough.

Sunday, 4:32pm
Somewhere in NY State

It�s already dark, again. The muddled sky has been spitting rain most of the afternoon. We�ve been enjoying episodes of This American Life and thinking about how we�ll enjoy being home. The hillsides are piebald with snow; I try to keep my feet near the little heat vent. We�ve had our takeout coffees. I�m hopeful of getting home maybe by 8:00.

We managed all right at the service, though our �lesson� turned out a little on the short side. Everyone was so appreciative, and it certainly was a cheerful group of people. I finally noticed this morning that our host (the pastor) reminded me keenly of Mr. Bean! That gave me a quiet laugh in the church.

We were offered communion with the rest of the congregation and I took it. I don�t always. But last night I thought, �I have to go in empty so I can be open and ready to take in whatever the service wants to give me.� It was the best way, I thought, to handle being the messenger. Maybe it was because of this that, shortly after I drank the wine and ate the wafer, I felt a bit of the opening that brought tears to me when I got my first Reiki attunement. A little grace about the head and shoulders. A little soft gratitude.

The soup and sandwich lunch available to us turned out to be grilled cheese on white and canned tomato, so we hit the road and in a while found a Subway. Not that there�s anything wrong with canned tomato soup, or a nice, comforting grilled cheese, but my mates aren�t eating dairy now and I try to stay away from white bread. There was some kind of anniversary cake available as well, which they did have. I had grapes instead, and made up for it by having real, honest, un-baked potato chips with my sandwich. It was an unaccustomed and luxurious sensation.

Night. Nearly Midnight, in Fact

It took about 8-1/2 hours for me to get home. We had to go a little slowly because of the weather, and driving back from the band�s house where I�d left my car was precarious. Lots of black ice everywhere. An SUV in front of me skidded wildly and hit the left hand cement barrier before careening back to the right and weaving into the breakdown lane. I stopped behind them to make sure everyone was okay, and they said they were. Their car was pretty banged up at the front left corner, but seemed driveable.

Then halfway down Rt. 6, some 20 minutes from home, I stopped in a long line of traffic waiting to get around another recent accident. I wasn�t close enough to see what had happened, but after waiting 10 or 12 minutes I tried a side road which proved fruitless. I finally turned around and went the 15 minutes back to the junction where I could take another main road. I went slowly but had that sense that what was under me could turn into Teflon at any moment. A block up from my house, neighborhood kids were sliding around in the street on pieces of cardboard. They were casual about getting out from in front of my car as I managed the last turn, untroubled by any awareness that I could skid into them (at my 1 mile an hour) at any time and end their cardboard surfing for the season. This neighborhood is like that. The pedestrians strut with a sense of entitlement, staring boldly at passing drivers. I mostly don�t mind it; if nothing else this place has character. It�s like when I encounter tough-looking bikers (which none of these are); I think they would probably help me if I were in trouble. Otherwise they just go around looking like they own the place.

I crept into the back parking lot, noticing that Sunny and her lover have raked the ocean of fallen leaves from the back to the front curb, just ahead of the sleety weather and rain. They�re so on top of this place. I saw Ben as I was loading in and he said the town is supposed to collect the leaves this week, weather permitting. The old oil tank was taken out of the ground on Friday, so the entire heating switchover is complete. We will be snug and untroubled by contractors for the Winter.

Ben was obviously in a model-car-making frenzy tonight, evidenced by the smell of airplane-type glue that wafted all the way up the stairs and somewhat into my apartment. This happens sometimes but he�s so passionate about his hobby, I don�t complain. I lit some incense in a few places and started cooking, and soon no longer noticed it.

I found some vegetables in the fridge and some Qorn cutlet patties in the freezer, so made an impromptu stirfry with peanut sauce, tahini and pepper, along with some brown rice (love that Success brown rice -- one minute). Opened a bottle of Falcon Ridge Zinfandel (Falcon Ridge is also the name of a festival we�ve never been able to get into) and called it dinner. All evening I�ve been meaning to start watching the new Netflix, but here it is after midnight and I ought to just go to bed. There�ll be all day tomorrow, as I plan to ride out the rest of this weather front with sewing projects, movies, and maybe working on a song or two. It�s good to not be in the car right now. I hope those folks on Rt. 6 are all right.