Burning

I am excited/horrified at the number of commitments I have made for my extra-curricular activities. Thrilled to be singing, learning repertoire, and getting ready to perform as I may be, I mourn the long-ago days of college when waking up to practice was about all I had to do. Back then there were no worries of ESOL, grading papers, or mortgage payments. Oh well, at least with the end of The Oliver Adventure I have a little more time to wiggle. I really wish I could be a 50% person, but I find that I throw myself into everything and expect the most , not satisfied when my performance doesn't reach the 100% of my expectations. I feel that way about my teaching too, though age and exhaustion (and maybe a little wisdom) have granted me the permission to exhale and assess the situation before I berate myself too badly. I can only do the most I can do with the conditions dealt to me. Anything more than that would require superpowers, and my cape never came in the mail. Funny... another teacher I know (like maybe, the BEST teacher I ever knew) must not have realized that they give us books, not capes. Yet somehow she can fly, and take the kids along with her, and still not miss a beat as a supermom back at home. Like me, I guess, feeling that 100% sometimes isn't enough.

Little Boxes

Technically, I am in a state of mourning, but today I found a lot to smile about. I guess I'm getting better at compartmentalizing my feelings. Usually I feel them all at once, which gives the bad endless opportunities to trump the good. I've been working on postponing my worrying to a designated worry time, and allowing happy to flow freely. There are certainly worries and bad things to fear: death, financial ruin, employment uncertainty, and the perils of raising a teenage daughter, to name a few. Today, though, the weather is warmer, I enjoyed a week of teaching some awesome kids, I have new music to learn, and I have a whole weekend full of family, music, theater, walking/running and friendship ahead of me. The apocalypse can wait.

And then there were none

A long day without a moment to think. Out of the house at 6:45 AM and home at 11 PM, I am thankful that the sun rises earlier now, and I am home for a tiny bit of daylight. Not much light shining for the family today though, with the passing today of my final grandparent. Though the grandma I knew had been gone for many years, her mind some other place and her body still here with us, her passing marks the passing of a generation. I keep thinking about the photos she shared with such pride. She and her sisters, real "lookers" in their not-at-all revealing swimsuits on the Long Island beaches between the wars. Meeting my Grandpa, a honeymoon and shipping out, and my dad, a wartime baby whose picture was carried in the pocket of my Grandpa serving in the Pacific. He was nearly 3 when they finally met face-to-face. My grandpa, a war veteran, but a man who said little of war or anything else. That's okay, because Grandma said it all for both of them. She was a woman on a mission for as long as I remember. Whether it was getting the city to cut down trees, fighting for grocery bargains, or some function at "The Center" her elder years were active. Our long trips from New York to Virginia were met with pot roasts and recycled family jokes. The house full of pictures and random family treasures, the matriarch on my father's side, and another piece of my childhood now lives only in my heart and in my memory.

Doing my Duty (Thanks for the picture, MJ)

I missed a day of blogging yesterday, but that's okay. I've been busy doing my duty. Whether it's turning a 3 day weekend into a 1 day weekend to travel and pick up some consulting work, or finishing out an ill-fated theatre project, staying at school until 5:30 to grade projects, or counting the 'tweens as they head off to their bus ride home (pictured) , I've been doing my duty. A bit too much duty lately, though, and neglecting of myself. Blogging, practicing, running, that's for me, and I have a duty to myself to indulge.

Travel Buddy

For some, this is a 3 day weekend with an extra day of relaxation. For me, it's a pair of flights to Lawton, Oklahoma, a 6 hour writing workshop, and a return Monday night sometime around midnight, with a couple of hours before back-to-work. And, for kicks, my travel buddy: the FTCE Middle Grades Integrated Curriculum Exam Study Guide. Memorization of atomic mass and the dates of various Civil War battles equals Good times. Job security trumps recreation these days, and that great novel or light romantic comedy film that might've helped me outlast the miles will have to wait.

8 down 4 to go

Tired backstage, and really ready for this run to end. 4 weekends of this production - it's starting to feel like a job. What I dread is my time onstage. Working hard to muster enthusiasm for a script that was chopped up, a production that was ill conceived. Backstage, I love chatting with some lovely people with whom I'd love to work again. Somewhere else. Doing something else.

Okay, It's not that cold in Florida

A mid-February visit to 15 degree Chicago has cured me of my why-is-it-so-darned-cold-I-thought-this-was-Florida blues. Granted, moving to Florida I had visions of winter beach swimming and year-round flip-flops. We've had more than our share of cold this winter, maybe not record-breaking lows, but endless weeks of chill. Worse yet, I don't recall a year with so many overcast days. It's been looking like the gloomy Northeast. Bring back the heat and humidity.