Are We There Yet?

Every Wednesday I get in the car and travel the short hop to rehearse with a group of other like minded women. There, we sing folk tunes, traditional melodies, camp songs, spirituals, and songs from other countries. Songs that seem to suit me. I have been doing this for over 10 years and still feel the thrill of the resonant sound thrumming in my bones. Our voices blend into something unique with every song we sing. Each phrase becomes a caress. The director is a teacher, a performer, a visionary. We put our trust in her completely. Her choices are ours. Her direction moves us forward to our final goal of communion with each melody. We learn without sheet music. We listen to her deconstruction of each song as she encourages us to commit each phrase to memory. Single notes turn into phrases, verses and then the songs take on a shape. She is the magician working her alchemy. Of course, there is that moment about 3/4 of the way through each semester when I rebel. All the songs are ...

The past week has been one spectacular day after another. the air is just so- all blue sky and gentle breezes. The weekend was that again and more, so a trip to Salisbury to attend Bill Binzen's funeral was a pleasure. It wasn't sad to know he is gone now. He had lived a long and full life and has a family full of loving memories of days spent together. It was a celebration of his life. Sun streamed into the windows of the Congregational church, the hymns were heartfelt and it was a peaceful blessed gathering. After the service, I went up the Mountain with Barbara and Curry, two of the best ladies I know. Mother and daughter, they have a sweet dance that they do to navigate their relationship. I sat in the back seat and listened to them. "Do you have the key?" -"Yes, the key is here," Curry patiently replied then turned her head a bit to fill me in with  the saga of the misplaced key. Barbara quiet, not interjecting with her usual impatience at this thing ...

There is a hereditary disorder in my family, passed down the generations from great Auntie to Daughter to Mother to Wife, traveling through the female line and hidden from view except from the family of those affected. The symptoms are tragic. Attraction to condiments is no laughing matter. Whole family financial systems have been threatened by this serious problem. It is known as Condimentia. There is no known cure. The afflicted are magnets for condiments. With every passing season, jars, tins and tubs of sweet and savory sauces, curds, pastes, spreads, confits, jams, jellies, preserves, conserves, dressings, marinades, rubs, syrups, blends, butters, sauces, dips, and extracts linger in the fridge.  We all have those condiments that are the go-to holy trinity. For some it's Hot Sauce, Mustard and Chutney and for others it's the trio Ketchup, Mustard and Relish. That would be no surprise in the trusty Fridgidaire, but my ice box is a masterpiece of food that is not quit...

Her name is Bear. She was given that name because she grunts like a Bear when she's happy. She sort of sings when she's eating a bone. Grunting and humming to herself in complete and utter contentment. And everyone thinks she's a male dog. She's a big, beautiful American Field Black Labrador Retriever. She's 2 and a few months. She's still got a load of puppy in her and she's the best fetcher I know. She runs faster, tries harder, jumps higher and wants that stick more. She's that dog Bear!

Just finished this month's book group selection, Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby. I think I'm getting too old for that kind of quick and witty fiction. We read Nemesis next...talk about two different books. Yikes. And the last book, Sweeping Up Glass. I think our book group might be a tad unfocused! Here are a couple of photos from the trip to Tuscany.