It’s Just Sunday

I was out of bed earlier than I needed to be, I think the cool breeze whipping the curtains around woke me. Yes, last night, while rather moist, was relatively cool, the low 80’s, and I opened the windows before I went to bed. Open windows means I can breathe.

It’s just past 8am and I can hear  one of the maintenance staff watering the greenery and washing down the sidewalks around the building. (One of the plusses to this building, there is 7 day maintenance staff on duty.) Yesterday there was thunder throughout the day, it was that humid, major storms all around us but not exactly here.

Melissa aka Zero Space has been commenting on my previous post that she is now reading my old Blogger blog as an aid in managing her ED. First my writing about food helped her with that (she says) and now reading and eating. That made me happy for some reason. I’m helping her, in a small way, without actively trying (tho I would if I could, she’s an interesting lady and I like her).  Me, just being me, doing what I do – someone finds helpful. Doesn’t get much better than that.

One week from today I will get to meet the Baby Princesses for the first time! I’m so excited, and anxious. A two year old and a four year old – quite possibly stuck in an apartment or a hotel suite for too much time. I’ve bought coloring books, crayons, paper to draw on and some lego-like blocks. Their parent’s want to go to the National Zoo. Personally I would never step a foot into D.C. – it’s just too dangerous.  The zoo is free but it costs $30 to park – oho! And you need to get tickets ahead of time. I sent Da Mama a link to the web site so she can decide what she wants to do about that. They are driving down from Vermont, stopping somewhere in New Jersey for a few days to do the beach thing and then down here to Virginia.

Because today is Sunday it is major cleaning day, which just means, in addition to my regular cleaning, my husband vacuums. And I run a duster over the furniture, wipe down the window sills, change the bed sheets, wash the kitchen and bathroom floors. It also means, PIZZA DAY. It’s not like we couldn’t have pizza any other day of the week, or even every day if we wanted, it’s just become SOP. Like Sunday being major cleaning day (as if every day isn’t a cleaning day for me. Yesterday I was doing the on-my-hands-and-knees shower scrubbing – it has now become a standard Saturday chore.)

I wish I had a balcony or patio – it is such a gorgeous morning. The next place I live will have to have “outdoor” space. No compromises. And wouldn’t it be lovely to live in a place that isn’t hot and humid, as if that place even exists any more. At least we have mild Winters, most of the time, periodic snowmageddons, are no more fun than extreme heat and humidity for months at a time.

Look at this – me writing a post early in the day. Most of the time I don’t get a chance to really settle into internet/computer stuff until the middle of the afternoon. But I’m typing on the laptop, which I don’t like – the ‘t’ is wonky – I hit it once and two show up on my screen – what is that about?

Enjoy your day and I hope you dance…

It amuses me

to go back to my Blogger blog and read the posts I deemed worthy of saving. Quite frankly some of them are damn fine writing. What amuses me is that I have been talking about the same things for 20 years – way to be boring Grace. Or is it that some topics just interest me, lots of posts about words and language and usage.  Posts written while I lived in Philadelphia are truly snarky, and funny. Oh, how I hated Filthadelphia!

I’ve been writing about, and sharing, a lot of music in the last week or so, a meander through those old posts shows this is not a new thing for me. I particularly like this one –

Wednesday, October 15, 2008
MUSIC IS MAGIC

People say “Stop and smell the roses”; I say “Stop and listen to the music” but don’t really stop because if there is music then there is movement, there is dance.

Music is everywhere, all the time. You just have to listen. Okay, there is the obvious music – leaves rustling, birds, squirrels chattering; and the sound of the wind. Some of you may hear the music of traffic – different cars make different sounds, even the rhythm of a line of cars going over a speed bump. The cacophony of honking horns, some with high notes, some with low added to the revving of motors – the varoom, varoom and the bleat, bleat – can you feel the beat?

And the magic? I’m always playing music in my head – it’s not imaginary music, it’s real – I hear it, and dance to it. Did you ever watch people walking on a busy street – they are all walking in different rhythms, and don’t you add the melody to the beat – in your head? If you are part of that crowd, don’t you pick up the rhythm and walk along to it: sharing the music, sharing the rhythm. There’s magic in that. In that moment in time you, and all those other people, are communicating, sending, back and forth, calling out to each other, call and response. It’s magic.

I love the music of the city. There’s a church nearby whose bells toll each hour; the Mr. Frosty truck that comes by each afternoon, the sound right this minute of a car going by outside the house – first a low swoosh that crescendos and fades; loud trucks, soft cars; some take longer to fade, and I sway to the swoosh.

People remind me of songs – That song and that person will forever be connected in my mind. Some times it’s their song I hear. The song that is THEM; that is their heart beat, their life force dancing through their body and brain.

We are music. The first sounds we hear are music – the beating of our mother’s heart; of our own. The low notes – we hear them first. Warm, dark, comforting. Rhythm – babies love the rhythm – rock them and they are soothed; swing them gently back and forth; our earliest memories, our first memories, are musical – rhythm and melody. The beat of the heart, the melody of the movement of the fluid we float in…our first memories. We share these memories, tho different rhythms and different melodies, and sing out to each other – hear me, hear my music.

Listen – the world is never silent, nor are we. Clear your mind and then listen – can you hear your song? Can you hear mine?

A little self-serving perhaps?

Something I read this morning – about do you know who you are and what makes you, you. I think it was Rory, and then I came across another reference to being yourself and THEN when I searched for a Thursday song I found this –

Is the Universe trying to tell me something? If so what, because if ever there was a person who is totally themselves, it’s me. It seems I have a very strong sense of self. Despite –

~ A  few years in my early 20’s when I tried on different personalities/personas. I didn’t seem to have any control over it. It was odd, and expensive because each persona needed a different wardrobe. Just odd.

~ My ability to become another person – like the time I was going to a party with my brother and his girlfriend and she and I were discussing who I should be that night – I think I decided on Bette Davis – not that I would present myself as Bette Davis but rather the stereotypical Bette Davis character, like Margo Channing.

I always could ‘become’ an established character very easily, which is why I was great at cold readings in acting class. I had usually seen the play or movie we doing in class so for a first reading I simply replicated that performance. Like, “Butterflies are Free” starred Goldie Hawn. I was given one of her character’s monologues and I just did Goldie Hawn doing Jill Tanner. I could also do a good cold reading of something that was new to me but I was sensational if it was something I had seen performed.

I was talking about ‘sense of self’ with a friend, who like me, had a troubled and traumatic childhood (her way more than me, in my opinion). She still struggles with who she is (I know vague but let’s not get too personal here) and I couldn’t quite understand it and she remarked that I had such a strong sense of self, which was amazing given my background.

I think a lot of it has been acquired over time. One of the perks of getting old, you DO just stop caring what people think of you. Time is running out, you don’t have the luxury of playing mind games with people who don’t matter. Or even people who do matter (for that matter).

I once wrote about ageing and reverting to our essential selves.

I am Grace. Have I changed over and through the years. Oh yes, of course. I think back about who I was a various times, and I laugh. How did people put up with my young self, so positive about what was right and wrong. Oh my! Idealism run amok. So tedious.  So many things I was and then outgrew, or, just got older and wiser.

When the girls used to go out on the town, they always used a different name to fluff off guys. I could never think of another name for myself – I am, was, will always be, Grace.

I am still inventing other personas but they don’t stick. Because they aren’t me. They are aspects of me but I am only comfortable being ALL of who I am.

I know my good points, my bad ones. What I like, and don’t. I know when I’m acting badly, and sometimes I don’t care. When I do, I apologize. I know what I’m good at and I won’t hesitate to share that. I know what I’m not good at, and I just don’t do those things because why waste my time? I don’t like it, I don’t do it. I’m not here to please you.

That the life I am living right now is not the life I would prefer, I know. That it is in service to the well-being of another person, yes. Could I walk away? Yes. I have walked away from people and never looked back but not this time. this time I stick. Not sure why but that’s who I am. I don’t care what other people would think of me, I care what I would think of me. I do the right thing. And yes, sometimes knowing what the right thing is, isn’t hard to figure out.

I honestly believe that I am a person worth knowing, worth having in your life. You disagree? Fine, really fine. No one likes everyone but I also honestly believe the loss is yours. That’s not ego, that just knowing I am a good and worthy person.

I like me. I admire me. I have nothing but respect for me. I earned it. Big time. I am happy to be me!

I am Grace.

 

It plagues me sometimes

My need to keep everything neat and tidy and organized. Once I get it in my head that some part of my home needs to be tidied and organized, no matter how neat and tidy it might already be, off I go…

Last week we had to toss a loaf of bread because my husband has just jammed it in the freezer any-which-way and when he opened the door it fell out, and since the thin paper wrapping was frozen it just splintered and bread went flying all over the place.

That did it! I needed someway to organize the freezer. Bins! Wire mesh freezer bins. Which, quite frankly look exactly like any other wire mesh bins. I have a small one on my kitchen counter for salt/pepper/olive oil.

And that’s another thing, I love boxes, trays, bins – just about everything is neatly corralled in something else. I have pretty trays made of ceramic, hammered aluminum, brass. I have have boxes which most people might think are decorative tchotkes but they all are containers for other things. Some folks have junk drawers, I have junk boxes. Plunk me down in a flea market and I will find the booth with the boxes – pretty wooden boxes are a favorite. I had a beautiful stained glass box which has somehow disappeared and I used to keep my jewelry in lots of small pretty boxes (now I have a jewelry armoire – fancy, fancy – it needs to go, along with the jewelry in it. That’s my next project.)

I like putting things into other things. It borders on an obsession. And lately I’ve been wondering why. I’ve always been this way. My thinking is it is a control issue. So much in my life has been beyond my control that I guess even as a kid I found a way to control what I could. And that was organizing everything and putting it in – boxes.

I am not a knick-knack person. Those that I have are on my bookshelves and I did a major clean-up there some months ago – there are only a few boxes there now, I got rid of a bunch, just tossed them. Some were gifts, some I bought, the only ones left I have an irrational attachment to and they aren’t even the prettiest.

Last Thursday my freezer bins came late in the afternoon and I spent Thursday night cleaning the entire fridge and organizing the freezer. I was so excited. My husband said “It doesn’t take much to get you going does it? Please! New bins to organize things – Joy!

This is what my freezer looks like now – It’s a small freezer, but there is still plenty of room for more stuff.

When I re-did the kitchen I bought trays to keep all the assorted cutlery organized –
There’s that tray on the left – I’ve got those in other kitchen drawers, on the counter to hold the vitamins and meds, and that is next to the bread box (you know I have a bread box) –

I just bought a bunch more of those grey trays to use in my dresser – perfect size for socks, scarves (I have a lot of scarves), gloves – I did take some photos but really do you need to see them?

The top of my dresser has this really pretty tray, ’cause I love my trays –

I suppose if you have to have an obsession with controlling your environment , this isn’t the worst one to have. As my father always said “A place for everything, and everything in its place”  OK, so maybe it’s genetic.

Oh, and yes, there is a song. “I just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in…” – that line has been running in my head for days.

Did you know

that there is a difference between dilly-dallying and lollygagging? They have somethings in common with each other as well as with frittering.  They all basically mean wasting time.

It amused me to read that a person who dilly-dallys is annoying because they waste time by fussing around and not getting things done and they aren’t aware of the delays they cause other people.

Did the phrase ‘fussing around’ jump out at you? Me too and it means to ‘fiddle with someone or something’ which is a whole ‘nother idiom.

Defining idioms with other idioms – what fun!

Lollygagging is interesting, this is new information to me, and I’ll just quote rather than try to paraphrase: “Lollygagging takes on a different perspective of time wasting due to its origins and connections to love relationships.  Lollygagging meant wasting time, lazing around with someone else, when there was work to do or duties to perform.  Dilly dallying would indicate a trite waste of time while lolly gagging, a more old fashioned expression, was synonymous with illicit relationships and an inappropriate waste of time.” (SOURCE)

Fritter away, whether time or money, is just wasting it on unimportant or unnecessary things. Can you see what a rabbit hole this could send me down?

And speaking of rabbit holes – what does that mean exactly? According to the Slang Dictionary “Used especially in the phrase going down the rabbit hole or falling down the rabbit hole, a rabbit hole is a metaphor for something that transports someone into a wonderfully (or troublingly) surreal state or situation. On the internet (emphasis added) a rabbit hole frequently refers to an extremely engrossing and time-consuming topic.” (SOURCE)

I never thought of ‘rabbit hole’ as transport into a surreal state or situation. We all know it is a reference to “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland” by Lewis Carroll, and that’s what happens to Alice when she falls down a rabbit hole.  But for the rest of us, it is the internet meaning we mean. When we go there. Down the rabbit hole.

WORDS! and phrases – their meaning, connotation, etymology – the rabbit hole to end all rabbit holes.

And of course, what song do I have playing in my head when I hear the word WORDS? Why Buddy Holly, of course.