February 03, 2008

1:15 a.m.

The Rest of Florida

Thursday, Jan. 31

In the Teacup

Oh, the dreams... last night, discarding a big box of old stuff, a large framed picture that was damaged, some clothing, going through it all again to make sure I really didn�t want it. A gallon-sized ziplock bag with souvenir pieces of each thing, even... I was ready to let that go, too. The whole sequence of replacing the vacuum cleaner bag that was so full it was spewing dirt out of the nozzle. I was cleaning up, moving on. It was time.

Refurnishing a room, a blue room. Starting over.

We are at a little house called The Teacup by its owner, who doesn�t live here. It�s a bit neglected and musty, but there are several acres and some citrus trees (the grapefruits taste like lemons but the oranges aren�t bad). Last year I slept on a twin sized cot and made do with odd, flat pillows; I think I had a cold, but slept surprisingly well. My mates had an airbed that was cold, and brand new, still-creased satin sheets that wouldn�t stay on the bed, they were so slippery. The living room was largely unfurnished. This year our hostess emailed us that her sons had been staying here for a while, so now she had a double bed, plus a couch. I thought, great. My mates will sleep better, and we�ll be able to sit in the living room.

So we arrived, after a sad trip to a fruit stand in Cape Coral that produced terrible oranges and grapefruits that we�ll now have to throw out. The guy seemed a little shifty, but we took the chance and were disappointed. When we got here I went into my little room to find...

Nothing.

No cot. No bed. One little side table and an empty bookshelf.

I didn�t have a bed!

The couch she mentioned was where she assumed I�d sleep.

After we discussed it a bit, we decided to remain anyway; she goes overboard stocking snacks for us, makes up a gift bag with all sorts of things, and does her best to make it homey. I ended up taking the area rug and the sofa cushions into the little bedroom and creating a bed with them on the floor. I wrapped a quilt around them first to hold them all together, and then made it up with the sheets. If I don�t move around too much I think it�ll be quite cushy -- I kept thinking of our friend Jonnie in Austin, who creates beds all over their house. In the end I felt very nest-y and thought I would do all right.

Then Carol came in ruefully and said their bed was terrible. I went in and lay on it and rolled immediately to the depressed center of the mattress, feeling springs all the way. It turns out I got the better bed, after all.

********

We ate a rotisserie chicken and salad, had a visit from our hostess and her Great Dane, Emma, changed some burned-out light bulbs, and are now chillin� for the rest of the evening. Carol and I took a long walk and talked about our plans for a 50th birthday ritual. We talked about the things we�re releasing: she, her thoughts of having and raising her own children, and I, youthful energy and the expectation of being liked based on my appearance. (Well, that sounds really shallow to me as I write it, but I think it all factored into being a very shy kid and not being able to make my statement unless I had a way to �perform� it.) We talked about older women we�ve met who had an irresistible energy and inner joy. �She had a twinkle in her eye,� Carol said, �like you just knew she was scheming something!� That�s what we want to cultivate. Big healing energy, delight, a sense of mystery.

We talked about movement, too. Being with her dad all week, she became very aware of just how mobile and lithe she still is. That�s something not to take for granted -- even in the midst of my running issues, the odd ache and pain -- I�m still in such good shape. I can do everything for myself. No one has to help me do anything except put lotion on my back.

So she wants to incorporate dance or movement into our celebration. She�s very big on jumping and twirling. Like those sticks with the long ribbons on them. I suggested sparklers, too. And a ritual bowl that we�ll fill with something -- maybe water, flower petals and candles.

When I get home I will collect bittersweet from the edge of the woods.

********

8:43pm

We�ve each been amusing ourselves. I�ve been doing data entry; Chris has been frustrated all evening with a wooden block puzzle; Carol is making booking calls. I�m about to take my book and go to bed at this early hour. Or rather, go to cushion. Early radio show tomorrow.

********

Firday, 4:10pm

Slight headache, slight toothache, tired, marginal privacy. Can�t rest; am posted in a loft over the music room where we�ll be singing tonight. The air mattress wouldn�t hold air. We finally got it blown up in a way we hope will endure the night. I tried to take a nap earlier and ended up flat on the floor within 20 minutes. By the time it was fixed, the whole family was here and there has been a lot of noise below me, so nevermind resting.

Do I sound crabby? Is it because my tooth has been bothering me all week? Is it because I�m worried about my skin, all the things that are happening to my skin that I don�t understand? The repeated flareups on my thumb that won�t stay gone without the steroid, the mole on my back that looks so big and I can�t see it to keep an eye on it, the way the whole back of my head and neck is just damp all night from night sweats, and feels like it has a rash half the time? Oh, yeah, and how ants are EVERYWHERE here, in my bed, in my chair, in the bathtub? Crawling on me as I�m trying to take a nap because, of course, I�m only a few inches from the FLOOR? Again?

I�m trying to concentrate on the beautiful view. The host here is an architecht, and the house overlooks a lake and I�ll see the sunset. The air is fresh and the day has cleared up. They�re so glad we�re here. My sinuses hurt, I�m sleepy and can�t concentrate. I hear myself being so friendly and polite, my �professional self,� laughing over everything and thinking, �Wow, is this me? Man, am I good!� And then I go into the bathroom and relax and look at myself in the mirror and I look so exasperated. Ah, me. Touring won�t last forever. I should go down and say hello to our hostess; I was lying down when she came home a while ago and I haven�t appeared yet.

********

Perfect dinner. Salmon baked with capers (perfect), brown rice (perfect), steamed broccoli (see above). Good conversation with our host, and so far there is still air in my mattress. I thought we were starting at 7, but it turns out it�s 8 so I have a found hour. I�m watching the last of the orange fade from the far horizon, as the water goes dim and lets go of the sky. Carol is warming up downstairs in the far bedroom. Some 70 chairs have been set up below me and we�re tuned up. I had to clean out �my� bathroom because with so many folks coming, they need all three for guests. She asked me if I was all right with that. Well, hey, they�re paying my salary; I guess they can use my bathroom.

And they�ll all parade by and see my bed on the floor. I certainly hope they realize what a privilege this is.

********

Saturday Morning
After the Night of Not Sleeping Much

It was a horrible night, really. The air stayed in the mattress but that was the best thing about it. Because I�m in a loft above all the action, I couldn�t go to bed until the last lingering guest had departed and everyone else had gone to bed. I snuggled down into the air mattress. It was then I realized that at night, only at night, is when the air conditioning cycles on and off every 15 or 20 minutes, blasting like a gale out of the large ceiling vents. It sounded like a ship�s engine room and blew air directly onto my head. This began exactly when I was drifting off to sleep. Even through earplugs it was huge. Then, just as I was getting accustomed to the noise, it would cease, leaving the world in deathly silence.

Then, a few minutes later... as I was falling asleep...

...it would happen again. This went on ALL NIGHT.

There was no place in the house I could go to escape it. I tried closing the vents (standing precariously on a stool), which produced a high-pitched squealing noise that was louder than the engine room. I finally got it so it wasn�t quite so blowy right on me, but there was nothing in the world I could do about the noise.

By morning I was getting used to it and sleeping through a few cycles. But there are no curtains on the three-panel sliding glass doors and all the windows up here, so the daylight came pouring in, and then the first person got up and started rummaging around in the kitchen directly below me and that was the end of my sleep.

I�m tired and resentful and yearning for my own bed. I slept on a real bed once this trip.

I know, Afghanistan, Bosnia, Iraq, blah blah blah. People worse off than me. Shut up.

Everyone is by now gabbing around the breakfast table. I don�t want to go down there because they�ll ask me how I slept and it�s my policy not to lie.

********

Pseudo-nap while everyone went out sailing. I lay down on the mattress in my bandmates� room and covered my eyes with a scarf against the bright day. Squawking birds, constant motorboats on the lake, guy hammering next door. Also a little apnia kept me awake owing to congestion induced by dust mite-filled beddings. It�s just incredible how what looked like a paradise yesterday when we arrived turned into this place I wouldn�t live in, in a million years. Speedboats, ants and wasps everywhere, plant sludge and rotton fruit washing up at water�s edge. Disruptive noise everywhere. Everything about this house is loud, echoey, lots of hard corners on everything. Glass, cement, metal. No curtains. And, incidentally, no furniture yet, which makes it nice to have house concerts.

The couple are really lovely people. And the concert was a highlight of the trip. It�s just the fatigue factor that makes me hate it.

I see the little sailboat coming in now; I see Carol in her red t-shirt. They�ll be walking in soon. I�m glad I didn�t go out in the bold sun.

********

Sunday Morning, 1:09am

Great gig tonight; a woman who had never done a concert, but who loved us from the radio, set up a house-concert style event at her art gallery. It was pretty spectacular. We felt famous before we even started playing; she really created a buzz in the town and among her friends, and we had a very good crowd.

Then we drove 2-1/2 hours back to the condo, where we are still rearranging everything in our luggage for the flight tomorrow. We�re all beat. But I made about $1,500 on this ten day trip, which is more money than I�ve seen in a long time. It�ll help with some of the credit card debt.

And with that, I close until I�m back safe in my nest. It�s supposed to be in the upper forties and sunny tomorrow.