Music

Music has always moved me. No...not moved me, as in 'dancing', but more precisely, emotionally.

My earliest recollection of music was that which I heard in Sunday school at the East Hampton Presbyterian Church. I'm sure that someone must have sung something to me as an infant, or that I heard a radio somewhere, but my earliest memory is of Sunday school. I heard those same hymns when my parents would sing together on our Sunday afternoon drives. Daddy sang lead, with his baritone voice, and Mom sang harmony with her alto voice. I can remember 'feeling good' when I heard them singing those familiar words.

Later, in school, my art teacher put music on to inspire 'moods' while we created masterpieces with paint brushes and clay. Mr. Stowell, my music teacher, played classical music for us, to introduce us to the sounds of Bach, Beethoven,Brahms and the other classical composers. It was something I enjoyed, but my love of some of the 'long hair' pieces came when I was older. Rock music was what I liked most then, and was encouraged even more by the on and off boyfriend I had throughout high school. He had a guitar and he'd formed a band. How could I not be encouraging?

And, speaking of long hair, I was a teenager during the 1960's when the term had a new meaning. During those years, musical groups were letting their locks grow long. The look was quite different from the Doo-Wop groups of the fifties and the early sixties. The music had gone from rock to Motown's soul sounds to the British Invasion. I loved it all!

As I evolved into the 70's, folk rock was big on my list. Everybody had a message about something...war, peace, love, rebellion. I seemed to be inspired by the messages and the music,

the soft, acoustic sounds. When disco made it's arrival, that sound got my feet going! I added that to my list of affections.

From that day until now, I've been carried along by the waves of various styles that were the current rage. There are favorites, of course, in every type of sounds. I'm still partial to the softer sounds, rather than hard rock or heavy metal. (I can't bring myself to call those music.) What I find myself singing these days, more often than anything else, are the old hymns. The sounds I remember from my childhood days echo in my mind. Those sweet, time-aged words that reach so far down into the soul are the most precious sounds to me. I sing them to myself, to my grandchildren, in church.

They say you can never go home again, but as far as music goes, I have come home to my roots.

RANDOM THOUGHTS ON COFFEE

Coffee: I love coffee. I wake each morning and, after a compulsory trip to the bathroom, I stumble to the kitchen counter to make a pot of the stuff. I can barely wait as the strong brew follows its path from the funnel to the carafe below. Sometimes I can't wait, and pour a mugful before the entire pot has finished filling.

It took me a many years to find out that I liked coffee. I'd always been a tea drinker. When I went to work at a realty/insurance office, there was a never-ending pot of coffee going, and that's when I began this habit. I created my cup with a lot of sugar and a great deal of dry creamer. In time I discovered that half and half was my additive of choice, and I drink my java with no sugar at all now, if I make it at home. I will admit, though, that I have to order 'sugar on the side' when I get a take-out cup of coffee, and often add something to sweeten a cup when made by friends. Everyone's recipe for a pot of coffee is different, and different brands of coffee tend to need adjustment to match up to the taste of your normal cup.

Motel rooms often provide a two cup pot and pre-packaged coffee and dry fixings, so that when their customers rise, they will be able to have their first cup of their morning drink. I appreciate their efforts, but I prefer to dress and go to a coffee counter somewhere, for something that resembles my version of a cup of joe.

Coffee has long been a companion to women when they meet together for a short social time. Many business people have a coffee cup on the desk or in the vehicle while traveling. My husband actually carries his large travel mug everywhere, drinking coffee all day long. (His buddy and former workmate always kids him about his 'Magic Tea Pot') I limit mine to two cups a day, but rarely drink that much, considering that my coffee cup is really two cups in size.

I wake to a mild headache which is chased off with that first mug of hot coffee. It seems I'm mildly addicted to the stuff. I'd better go drink that waiting cup while it's still hot.

Four Day Party

After a good little vacation from blogging, I'm back and rarin' to go. My few days away from here have been fantastic, rewarding, and successful....and a little tiring. A big celebration went on for four days, with a houseful of daughters a son in law and grandkids here for Mom's birthday.

We had such fun, as we generally do when we're together. As with every family, there are occasional sibling disagreements, and we did have one of those, but all in all, it went well. Peter brought the Karaoke, and we took turns performing. The cameras were clicking, so the memories are recorded for all time. All this will be put into our scrapbooks. I can only imagine what future generations will comment about when we're long gone!

After cooking marathons, feeding frenzies and snack attacks, the bunch of us needed the dancing and Zumba we did nearly every night. I'm sure that even with that exercise, a few extra pounds stuck. I guess I'll go on a diet of 'rabbit food' for awhile, and continue the Zumba moves. I've got a doctor's appointment in April, and I don't feel like getting any grief.

Gram was in and out, according to how much of the mass confusion she could handle. She seemed to enjoy it when she was here, but sometimes the noise of so many people is a little much for someone who lives alone. She's a trooper, though, and was thrilled with the idea that her grandchildren thought so much of her that they would take time off and travel as many as 900 miles to join her on her birthday.

We gathered for photos of all of us in our sweaters, as planned...and Gram wore one of her own, as I knew she would. It was fun to see us all in one place wearing her handiwork.

I enjoyed having the gang here, and I hope that we'll have many more celebrations together in the future. Yes, I was tired, but staying up until 1:30 AM for a few nights will never kill me, and I'll soon return to my habit of falling asleep in front of the TV.

Now I've got work to do. I've got to shop for diet food and and to get moving, to start my walking again, adding dancing, and recording every calorie I eat. It's almost time for swimsuits, and I'm not ready for them! I'll let you know how things work out.

Is It Gardening Time Yet?

The weather has been absolutely beautiful during this last week or so. The temperature has been in the 70's every day and one day, it was nearly 80.

Boy, what a change from a week ago Sunday when we had 4 inches of snow on the ground!

The daffodils are in bloom, the fruit trees are blossoming, the roses are beginning to uncurl their leaves. Much of the garden is awakening, and I can't wait until it's in all it's Spring attire!

I dare not trust that we're beyond the night-time freezing weather that we experience here, and so I do not set out new plants or seeds until mid-April. A few years back, we had an Easter freeze that ruined the peach crops and killed my weeping cherry tree. I itch to get my fingers into the dirt again, but I will wait just a little longer. Of course, I could always get out there to prepare the beds.

Because the family will be gathering, beginning today for a five-day visit, the gardens will wait for any attention at all until next week. Besides, the weather channel reports that on Friday we'll get a blast of cold air (44 deg), and then it will steadily climb again.

The see-sawing temperatures tease me. Like the sirens of the sea, they call me to the gardens. Just when I'm geared to begin the tasks at hand, the horrible weeding chore and the de-clumping of the hard clay, a wave of cold hits and all enthusiasm for the work outside departs from me. Then, another beautiful, bright, sunny, warm day arrives, and the cycle begins again.

Looking at the dry heads of the Autumn Joy sedum and the sleeping grasses in the gardens, I'm taunted. I want to clean up the areas and ready them for the new season. I long to 'redecorate' the flower beds that will greet me each day come Summer. But, I must endure a few more weeks of this indecisive weather before I attempt an effort in that direction.

Until then, I'll pour over my gardening magazines and drool on the photos of the gardens I dream will one day be mine. "To everything there is a season"...and this is the season of waiting.

Random Thoughts

It's almost time! The kids will be here this weekend...and the final count is ..who cares at this point! My four daughters, 1 husband, 4 grandkids and the local family will be here! We'll visit, laugh, sing karaoke, eat and celebrate Mom's birthday. It'll be good to see my girls again.

I so wish that Tim could be here too, but my son will be on his way to Alabama for some schooling for the USAF. We're used to not having him around for these sorts of get-togethers. The Air Force has owned him for over 20 years now, and he's at their beck and call to fly around the globe delivering paperwork to various bases. I told him that he's seeing a lot of the world. His answer was 'yeah...one base at a time.' I guess he's not seeing much of anything except military buildings unless he's on leave at the same time. He was able to line up some 'off' time while he was on duty to England, so he took the chance to see Ireland.

Family time is important to me, and the older I get, the more important it seems to be. We are so scattered in this day and age. Not only my family, but the families of most of us these days, seem to be separated by time and miles. When I was growing up, all of the family lived in the same town where we were raised and where our parents before us grew up. We knew no other place as "home." There was a comfort in that, a knowledge of things "familiar".

We've all moved out of the family homes and many, or just a few, miles from where we were raised. We've formed new places to call 'home', new friendships in new environments. I guess that's why family visits are more important than ever now. We are drawn to what is 'familiar' to us, and what could be more so than the faces of those we love and know so well?

Family Reunions

Family reunions happen all the time, though we may not call them that. When members of the same related group get together for any reason, I call it a 'reunion'.

Our seven kids are scattered between three states, and obviously that means a good number of grandchildren are, as well. When our NY girls decided to come for Gram's 83rd birthday, it was only natural that the Ga. girls would come too. One family of four won't be able to spend even one night, the other six will be here for from three and four.

As we email and phone to and fro, a full visit of celebrating is looked forward to by all. Here at home base, I try to keep the records straight as to who's coming and going on what day and time and which rooms they will occupy. Mike and I spend time going over the menu plans and making shopping lists. We've got a number of 'fussy eaters', so there has to be something that will accommodate everyone's palate. That's not so easy!

I'm still awaiting word on my nephew's acceptance of the invitation, so I'm figuring them into the mix. Late last week my daughter thought it would be a good idea to ask my cousin in a neighboring state if he'd like to bring his family to the celebration. I did so, and then invited his sister and her husband, in another near by state. She asked if her two children's families could come along too. Suddenly the party of fourteen had jumped to thirty possible guests. After a minute of stress, and then a good deal of anticipation at seeing those I've not spent time with in a long while, I mentally prepared a longer shopping list.

As Mike and I worked all day to clean and furnish our new sun room, we kept in mind how many we'd need to seat for the party and picnic supper following. We finally managed to get the seating and tables arranged in our minds, but left the porch in a state that Mom wouldn't suspect anything if she popped in from across the street. The extra chairs and folding tables would be added on Sat. morning while one of my girls kept her busy at her own house.

I kept checking my email for updates from the new invitees. On Sunday morning I still hadn't heard from my nephew's family, but there were messages from both of the cousins. No one from either family would be coming after all. Ok. With disappointment, I subtracted fourteen from the last number. We are at fourteen and holding until such time as I can add my nephew's four.

With all the confusion associated with these types of get togethers, I go through a myriad of emotions. While I love my family members, sometimes personalities don't mesh or immaturity over-comes adults, and there are 'unpleasantries'. At other times it's a big group of goofballs having a terrific time singing karaoke or eating everything in sight or laughing the hours away.

The fun starts on Wednesday. Would anyone else in the family like to join us? I can't even read the shopping list any longer due to the changes, so if you're coming would you mind stopping at the grocery store on your way?

Procrastination...

Why is it, I wonder, that we often put off doing things? I mean, really! If you don't do the deed, it will still be there waiting for you until you do. Once the work has been done, it's gone, at least until the next time it needs to be done. Well, maybe that's the answer to the 'why?' right there.The same job might need to be done again, and again, and yet again.

So much of our day is filled with mundane, repeat tasks. Day after day, we need to make the beds, fix meals, wash dishes, collect the mail, etc, etc, and etc. Booooooooooooooring! Well, maybe fixing meals isn't boring, but most of the rest of it is. Isn't it more fun to just do something else? Maybe we could do some gardening or some creative writing or scrapbooking? (Choose your passion!) The danged other stuff won't go away, so surely we can ignore it and take the time to have a little fun.

I have noticed, however, that the 'undone' things not only stay, waiting, they seem to grow as they wait for someone to show them some attention.

A sink full of dirty dishes is not pleasant to tackle or to look at. So, why wait? Wash them when there are few, rather than waiting for the empty cabinet to signal that unless you take on the task, you'll be eating out of the palms your hands.

Beds? Unmade beds, with all their wrinkles and lumps are not comfortable to crawl into at the end of the day. It's so much nicer to look at a smooth, well-made bed and is so much more welcoming to a weary body.

The mail would be more exciting if it was anything other than utility bills and junk mail. I hate that all that money is spent on paper,ink, postage and employees who create and distribute the ads, only to have them all end up in the dump.

Ah well, I think I've just talked myself into not waiting to do those menial small chores. If I do them when they are 'little', just think of all the time I'll have to play on the day the I'd be playing 'catch up' because I put them off.

Ok. I'm off to don my armor (my Nikes and their coordinating Tshirt emblazoned with the motto, "JUST DO IT") I'm going to collect my weapons of warfare in the battle against the dust bunnies, falling dry leaves from the house plants and the dirty mirrors. By noon I'll be able to see all those wrinkles that have been hiding behind the splashed water spots. Hmmm... maybe I'll wait on the mirrors.