Here is what I did yesterday. I caught myself taking it for granted and thus realized that it had to be pretty typical AND pretty special for me to be accepting it as routine AND feeling bad about that.
Woke up at 7:00. Laid in bed waking up slowly and enjoying the warmth under the flannel sheets and the contrast to the coldish air until 7:45.
Got up and showered, got dressed in Carhartts, hiking boots, alpaca support socks, techno-dri long-sleeved shirt, Sesame Street T-shirt and Patagonia vest, put my hair in pigtails.
Made and ate my breakfast of eggs on mayonaise toast while listening to the commentary on Star Wars Episode II. Left for work only a little late at 8:40.
Picked up a hitchhiker and reminisced with him about the last time I picked him up when he had a neckbrace. He said he woke up in the morning feeling like a hot dog.
When he asked where I was working, I started to describe the location and realized that I had the right house pictured in my head but had located it near the wrong landmark.
Swore profusely while also apologizing that I was going to have to drop him off here. At least I got him closer and he was a good sport about it.
Consulted the navicomputer and recalculated my trajectory.
Drove past various farms and some pretty spectacular ocean/mountain scenes. Passed two cars that were going the opposite direction in 15 minutes. Kept to the speed limit.
Arrived at the job site on time but got to sit in the sun for 15 minutes because my boss was late, comfortable because I knew I would get paid regardless of when I actually started working.
Once Harold arrived and gave instructions, I spent the morning picking up sticks from the lawn I had raked a month ago, then trimming the fence line with pruning shears. There were 3 other people there so I wasn't lonely, but my work was independent so I could just work quietly. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and it was the perfect 75 degrees with a view of the ocean. It was 12:30 before I even thought to see how long I had been working.
I worked raking the fence line, then took a break for lunch at 1:30. I sat with Harold and discussed the pleasures of peanut butter and jelly with cold milk and the best summer meals of our childhood. I picked the fresh stewed tomato sauce my mother made with butter, garlic and fresh basil over fresh pasta that Mom went and bought at Barones. He talked about going out to the garden a picking a row of green beans with his 6 brothers and sisters that were then boiled and served over new potatoes with butter.
After going back to work shoveling pine bark mulch onto the bases of the apples trees, I heard a noise like a tiny droid approaching and turned to see a little brown hummerbird looking at me, then zooming away. The next time we thought to ask the time it was 5:15 and time to go home. Harold worte me a check for the day's work and the work raking a month ago. I'm now$270 richer and can comfortably pay my car insurance at the end of the month.
I went home and ate navy bean soup that I had made, rinsed off in the shower, put aloe vera on my face and went to choir.
I arrived at the Orcas Center a little early because I wanted to practice my solo a little. I can practice fairly well at home without a piano because I can sound out the intervals. However, the last two times I sang at choir, the accomplanist had to help me hit the high F, so I wanted it to be solid that night by drilling the notes into my tonal memory with the piano.
Enjoyed working hard at choir. When we rearranged into loose quartets, a second person talked to me about joining the more serious a capella choir. Then we sang the song with my solo. This is not the same one that fell on me like artillery shot by my own side. This one is like a descant on top of the third verse of a modern arrangement of a traditional folk song, but its not rediculously high up there like so many descants are. The first time through, she said she couldn't hear me so I had to move up to the front row. I shuffled like the bad kid being sent to the corner mugging for laughs. The second time through, I sang out louder and then everyone could hear me. My performance wasn't perfect and I was still shaky but I knew where I was going. Catherine, the director stopped the choir and explained that although I would be taking the breaths that I needed since it was a solo (some of the notes are high and long), they should not follow my breathing, but continue only taking breaths where she had directed them to. I didn't know I had that kind of power! The third time went well and we moved on to another songs. Since we were mixed up and not sitting in our sections, I got many kudos.
Drove home with that good tired feeling. My body was tired from physical labor and my brain was tired from learning music and trying to pull together all the elements of singing well. Once home, I realied that I had a West Wing DVD in my post office box so I drove the five minutes into town to get it. Watched two West Wings that I had never seen before while knitting and then went to bed.
Fell asleep immediately.
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