apjournal

Amateur philosopher, deep but impatient thinker, not much time on my hands, exremely opinionated on certain subjects (America, dog food, pharmaceutical companies, lawyers, math education ....)

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

A Few Words

Yesterday something kind of neat happened. I'm a fan of the bucolic lifestyle, or at least the idea of it. I imagine a place in the country with a big herb garden, a few chickens, some paints, lots of paper for writing, a couple of friendly, goofy dogs, and of course, cats curled up on cushions on sunny, wicker porch swings. Okay, okay. I know it's like something out of a bad Maeve Binchy novel, but sometimes ... sometimes ... you can actually get glimpses of this, even in the city. I was upstairs changing yesterday before heading out for a meeting, and I come out onto the landing and there's one of the cats at the bottom of the stairs curled up in the laundry basket. The laundry basket had been set not far from the front of the grand piano, which, truth be told, would have made the picture more complete had it been uncovered and had its lid been up. Meanwhile, I'd forgotten a classical music station I'd turned on was still on, and some nice, light baroque music drifted up at me. The cat gazed up at me sleepily, and I took in the scene, which was flooded with natural morning light (east facing room) and it hit me ... this is a page from a magazine! Very cool. You simply have to notice moments like that.

I've lost 22 pounds and still going strong. None of my clothes fits me anymore (boo hoo). Yoga continues to be wonderful. I find yoga creeping into my every day activities and mindset, though I'm not consciously trying to make it do that. Piano playing has slowed down since work started again full tilt in September, but I continue to make progress, and am still loving it. My only complaint at the moment is that I really, really miss writing. I've read so much good fiction lately and I feel bits of stories, images, characters, conversations, for stories creeping into my head on an almost continuous basis. I must create! Man, how to carve out the time to do so, though, is completely beyond me.

My last surviving grandparent (grandmother on my dad's side) died on September 23. I had not been close to her. She lived in Germany and the last time I saw her I was 10. Since then there've been a few phone calls and letters and cards, but nothing major. It left a curious hole, though, when she died. Sort of made me feel smaller. I think it's a combination of two things: it reminds me of my mortatlity, which I never like to be reminded of, because I've not yet dealt with the fact that I will not, um.... live forever; and the other thing is that, generation-wise, my parents are next, and that is a place I cannot go to in my mind, not at all. It terrifies me.

The same week, my husband's son's father-in-law died. He was only 52. Had a heart attack at work and died on the spot, and had never had any history of heart diesease.

Well, that brings you all up to date. I'll be by to visit your blogs soon. I miss you all ...