circle of friends

As I was dusting around my tchotkes getting ready for a shindig with a circle of new and interesting friends, I pondered my pieces of real art that I paid good money for.  Now, my living room is full of art-y stuff that I love- needlework that I've done in a previous life, kid creations, even some beautiful photographs- all of which I sometimes dust around and often gaze at with happiness.  There are just a few things that I've bought from real artists and paid for more than frames.  This fabulous blue sculpture I bought just after Rebecca was born at an art fair in Gaithersburg, Maryland.  It's three people dancing in a circle holding hands.  I even left that $44 price tag on it- money certainly that had another purpose in that time of my life.  I loved it, I was with a friend, I bought it.  Another favorite is the green stone of some sort sculpture I bought at a 10,000 Villages (or whatever it's called now) sale at church.  This one is 5 people arm in arm in a circle.  When I light the tea light inside, it's almost pagan.  When I look at these sculptures I feel complete.  I don't think about wanting more, needing to do more, going in circles in this crazy life.  I feel complete.

What is about the circle that appeals to me?  Or maybe it's the closeness of the people.  Maybe it's the touching- sometimes dancing, sometimes holding up, sometimes just enjoying each others' company.  I think about the camp mentality.  Who are your closest friends ever?  The ones you lived with.  I loved my college dorm.  I loved having a best friend in the same room as me, and friends I could drop in on unannounced.  If I had something stupid to say, I could just say it.  There was no phone call necessary.  We could hang out whenever we wanted to.  I spent hours in the "sock lounge".  We'd play games, just chat, whatever.  At the time these people were more important than anything else.  It's like marching band in high school.  You spend so much time with people that dumb band jokes and songs become a cult. 

How do we recreate this in adulthood?  Well, one way is the weekend getaway.  Last winter, I went on a "quilting" getaway.  The four of us joined this existing group of close-knit quilters.  We made our own little click- I think only one of us quilted.  We did whatever, including watching Pride and Prejudice too loudly and playing games, my favorite Bananagram where my goal appeared to be making as many dirty and offensive words as possible while giggling.  But this was a special weekend of getting to know each other better- not quite like college- but closer than before and since.  Another appears to be the soiree.  Hence the reason for dusting tchotkes.  In a moment of weakness, I agreed to host tonight's get-together.  All people I'm just getting to know in person.  Many of whom have never been to my home, which is decorated early trash heap.  So, part of me worries about that.  A much bigger part of me is excited for the circle of friends talking, laughing, sharing crazy stories, holding hands and dancing (figuratively).  It's ok if the dust bunnies join in the circle. 

Music to my ears

How is it that a song can be such a mood changer?  Yesterday I was in a funk for hours.  Possibly because there was nothing exciting in my plans.  Possibly because I needed a nap.  Possibly because of no reason whatsoever.  In any case, the black cloud hung over my head..  

I was "tired and bored with myself."  So I googled "Dancing With Myself" which started a heart dancing.  The words may be somewhat sad, but that tune is darn peppy.  Then a good friend mentioned that wonderful song from Sesame Street- "Sing". You know the one where you just have to sing out loud, sing out strong, don't worry if it's not good enough for anyone else to hear.  The few brain cells started bouncing around in my head.  And they connected with the thought that music might be the missing piece of my day.  I'm always listening to the radio or a CD of some sort.  (As anyone who reads my Facebook posts knows.)  So I clicked on my tab for the Glee version of "Defying Gravity" which is my current favorite song.  I belted it out 3, 4, 5, maybe 10 times in a row and how could my heart avoid being lighter?

Music is my therapy.  An appropriately chosen CD fixes everything.  I can even bother to clean my house if I can crank something up.  I can drive wherever with the right radio station or CD:  Journey Greatest Hits my favorite car trip CD.  Music is the only thing that saves me between November and January.  We have ALL of the birthdays in our families in those 3 months.  Combined with all the stress of school concerts and events, dance recitals, piano recitals, etc. etc., those months are over-scheduled stress bombs.  What keeps me sane is cranking my MANY Christmas CDs and enjoying the special music opportunities at church.  I carve out time for extra rehearsals on Sundays- my favorite part of the week at that time of year.  I walk out of rehearsals bouncing and... singing.

Last weekend, the younger spawn was having a major crankfest.  I don't remember what her beef was (but her mood is so changeable, it doesn't really matter.) Before I even realized what was happening, she somehow said "ire" and I said "land".  We looked at each other and started belting out: "Irrrreland, Irrrrreland togetherrrrr standing tall" and raced for our Celtic Thunder CD.  Hilarious singing and Irish dancing ensued.  That one was/is particularly partial to the song as instruction and mood mender.  I can say the same words about a thousand times with no response, but if I put a little tune to it she marches to the beat of MY drum for a change. 

The oboe.  Yup, I decided in January that I wanted to play a new instrument, and I decided it was going to be the oboe.  Why?  Don't know.  So, I headed to Robert M. Sides and grinned my way up to the counter.  I simply professed my desire to rent an oboe.  The cashier started with the obvious questions: for your child?  Nope, for me.  Do you play the oboe?  Nope, not yet.  At this point, the look on his face was clearly along the lines of "are you nuts?"  Yep, probably.  Then I think he asked a question where the logical response was to tell him about my experience with the other double reed instrument.  He didn't ask how long I'd played that- not long- or how long ago it was- long, long ago.  But, in any case, that answer earned me the right to sign papers to pay them lots of money over time and to walk out the door with my very own oboe.  The first noises were similar to trucks mid-crash and cats in pain.  In fact, many of the noises yet are akin to trucks mid-crash and cats in pain.  But I'm getting better.  Sometimes I feel like some of the notes might be in tune.  The kids no longer leave the room screaming when I practice (it could be that they've learned to block it out.)  The cats still do.  And when we dogsat, the dog looked at me clearly as if to say, "what the hell was that?"  I laughed.  In fact, oboe playing seems to require laughter. 

Have my kids got the music gene?  You betcha!  They'll deny it- especially when it's time to practice piano (or clarinet).  But I see it in their faces.  I'll never forgot the talent show at school where Rebecca played the song perfectly- the whole room glowed with her excitement.  It's the same when she's singing.  In a school concert or a church anthem, her whole body is completely in the song- and usually I can hear her too.  It's a lot of fun to watch.  And that clarinet that she still claims to hate?  Yea, I've been to the band concerts and she's obviously having fun playing- unless she happens to see me watching.  Katie is quite the belter too.  Maybe not quite so lyrical, but enthusiasm makes up for a lot!  In just a few short weeks, we'll start with the incessant nagging about instruments:  she starts the drums and the bass.  Lord help us all.

life with a laugh track

So I watched a video this morning.  I laughed until I cried.  I watched it again, just to be sure.  I laughed some more.  I waited several hours and then watched it one more time.  I snickered.  I guffawed.  So, yes, apparently I think it's hilarious.  What exactly is it about typos and malapropisms that amuses me? (We'll ignore the fact that it's a little raunchy, because there is absolutely nothing wrong with my dirty mind!)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OonDPGwAyfQ

I remember my sophomore year of college (and actually sophomoric would be apt here), my roomie and I used to change the words to songs or even type out the words to songs (before Google with its easy access to song lyrics).  One of the signs we had in our room was "we belong to the city, we belong to the nifht".  This still makes me smile, if not giggle outright.  The other day I was reading Harry Potter to my younger daughter and I accidentally read that Professor McGonagall was the "assistant headmattress" of Hogwarts.  I laughed hysterically for 5 minutes and still giggle whenever I read her name now.   And, good grief, do not even try to talk to me when I'm tired.  I can't remember names or common words.  I've been known to answer "chicken" to just about anything... and then laugh.  One time I was trying to talk to myself (you do it too, that part isn't so crazy), and I did the whole roll call thing including our 3 cats before I managed to remember my name.  After I smacked myself upside the head... I laughed. And spoonerisms- always a reason to laugh.  Tonight in the car, a small crowd of ducks was blocking our way.  Rebecca suggested I honk.  I said, "I'm not going to donk at the hucks!"  And then I... laughed!

It appears that I could get a job as a professional laugher.  Is there such a job?  I mean other than a laugh track for bad television shows?  Oh well, it's a good hobby.  Last year, a friend and I were practicing in a public location for our piano duet- and may I suggest a piano duet as a fabulously fun experience.  We're both pretty ok, but not perfect by any means.  Guess what happened when we made mistakes?  You got it!  I laughed!  And because she's that kind of a friend, she had to join me.  One week a college-age guy mentioned how fun it was to hear us giggle as we played and that we sounded like a couple of girls.  Hold on!  Giggling only for girls- there is no age limit on laughter!  Don't get me started.  Actually, I mean that literally... don't get me started...

why not?

Life is interesting.  No question about it.  I like to keep it more interesting by making crazy decisions, trying new things, (never getting enough sleep), and living with my family.  We're weird.  Sometimes funny - at least to me.  And, lucky for you, I seem to like to share my every random thought.

You never know, I might actually say something worth reading... eventually.

I like to torture my teenage daughter.  She told me the other day she was glad we have a good relationship.  I almost drove the car off the road. This was after we played the game where I turn the radio up and she turns it down.  Yup, she said I was going to be deaf by the time I'm 50.  (Couldn't resist saying, "then I won't have to listen to you and your sister.")  We were listening to Kiss by Prince.  How can you not crank that?  Imagine her surprise when I told her Prince was a man- he sings higher than you, mom!

Don't get the idea that this child is always reasonable and mature.  She's not.  But we'll save that for another day.