January 18, 2000

"A New Day, A New Car"

sunrise caught early this morning

There's a newness about the day. I feel an energy I haven't felt in some time. It's time to put things of the past behind me, and look towards the future.

~ ~~ ~~~ ~~ ~

No sooner than I'd typed the above words, we got a call from the car dealer we'd went to yesterday. We were approved for the new car, but the white one we'd originally picked out had been sold. They did have a red one exactly like it, for the same price and with slightly less mileage. It's a 1999 Chevy Cavalier with a little over 14,000 miles. "A RED one?" But the more we thought about it, the more we liked it. It does seem more new and exciting.

Our new car!

Oh, it drives smooth! I like the extra large windshield which lets me get a bigger 'big picture'. The doors are especially ergonomically designed with a comfortable armrest slant, and curved door handles. Even the steering wheel has special hand shaped moldings. There's no doubt, it's one special car.

Now, all we have to do is pay for it.

January 20, 2000

"The Dog Won"

Not only do we have a new car, Julia's began her new job at the Recorder's office new branch in Casa Grande. It will be some time before they are ready to deal with customers. But they've been moving furniture and filling the computers with all sorts of data. The office is spacious, and filled with light. There's a courtyard in which Julia can take her breaks. It has lots of trees which attract birds she can watch, as well. But the building isn't the only nice thing, for it's only ten minutes away from home.

Laura and I are still bringing her, though, to leave our one and only, albeit it new, car for us at home. Yesterday evening, we had a good laugh while waiting for her. A tall, brown haired haired man with a moustache was walking down the sidewalk to get to one of the various buildings. A small black and gray spaniel mix dog followed him. He turned around, and took her back to his old truck to wait in the bed. Dog securely placed there, he turned back to his destination. But the little energetic and eager pup had other ideas. She bounded so quickly out of that truck to join her master. The man got half way down the sidewalk before he realized he was still accompanied. This went out about four times. Each time we saw that adorable puppy leap out and come running, we laughed louder. The last time he brought her back, he gave her a long lecture. Laura told him, "You've got a good dog, who really adores you." The man agreed, and added that she was learning, it was just taking time. The puppy stayed in the truck bed for a while, and the man got half way up the sidewalk, without her. But, no, she just couldn't bear to be away. Out she came again, although she held back a few paces this time. The man resigned himself to the dog's desires, and let her follow, at that distance. We absolutely howled with laughter, eyes even getting moist, for that determined little dog had won.

January 21, 2000

"Easily Tempted"

"Be careful, you are easily tempted," warned my fortune cookie oracle this evening. So true, that warning. I battle temptation on so many levels, and nearly always lose. The other day, it was dairy foods. I KNEW I shouldn't have a huge grilled mozzarella cheese sandwich, mountainous bowl of vanilla ice cream with blueberries, and full mug (21oz.) of milk with cookies all in one day. I knew, even as I was cutting that giant slab of cheese, that better things, such as fish and chicken, awaited me in the freezer. I didn't listen to that voice of conscience. I, of course, paid the usual price.

I've not been staying away from huge amounts of chocolate, either. I know the side effects, really I do. But the momentary gratification of the senses is all I can think of with the bowl of chocolate chips in front of me.

My temptations aren't limited to just food indulgences. I am much too tempted by computer games as well. I started this day fully intending to begin work on those mattress covers. You know, those long blocks of fabric that have been waiting for months now? But mid-way through sewing, I laid down another difficult project, and thought, "Wouldn't a couple of hours in Erathia be nice?" I never got to the mattress covers. I am bad, folks. Bad. And I don't know what to do about it.

Oh, I DO know what to do about it. With intellectual appraisal alone, I'd be healthy, wealthy and oh, yes, even thin. But it's not just up to my intellect, is it? No, there's ol' ID there.

And it just wants to have fun. Streams of that well-remembered song of Cyndi Lauper float through my mind, "Girls, they want to have fun. They just wanna, they just wanna, girls just want to have fun."

January 23, 2000

"Beauty That Transcends"

Yesterday afternoon, Serena was over for tea. We had gotten on the subject of music, and she told us about one concert she'd been to in which she felt as though she'd been lifted out of her body. It's rock music that does it for her. I've had similar experiences, although not by rock music. The best 'out of body' experience I've had is brought about by The Music Of The Night, from The Phantom Of The Opera by Andrew Lloyd Webber, lyrics by Charles Hart. I tried to express it in a poem I've written earlier. It is as though the muse which inspired that song comes to me, and takes me for a dance. The first time I was invited to the dance was at a concert back in the mid-nineties. Revielle, Tucson's gay male choir, featured that song in one of their concerts. The handsome, dark haired man who sung it had a sublime, agile, smooth voice. I felt myself hover above my seat about three feet. As I was on 'lift-off', I glanced briefly at Julia, and I'm not sure the song affected her the same way. Never mind, I was off and flying.

Julia's been in rapture to music, but different melodies evoke it. What is so wonderful is that music has the power to move us so. I awoke this music thinking of all the songs most precious to me. The Music Of The Night certainly occupies the number one spot. I love romantic music. Andrea Bocelli's Romanza album features several songs that can make me cry with their beauty. It doesn't matter that they're in Italian, the meaning is made clear. And detailed liner notes help, as well. When he sings Vivere, the passions well up in me. "Vivere" means "To Live".

I say yes to you. I say to you that I want to live.

Bocelli loves his music. This comes through clearly, even if he did not sing directly of it. In VIVO PER LEI, he sings of music.

Vivo per lieo da quando sai la prima volta l'ho incontrata, non mi ricordo come ma mie è entrata dentro e c' è restata. Vivo per lei perché mi fa vibrare forte l'anima, vivo per lei e non è un peso. . . I live for her, you know, since the first time I met her. I do not remember how, but she entered within me and stayed there. I live for her because she makes my soul vibrate so strongly, I live for her and it is not a burden.

Another of the lines express 'Through a piano, death remains far away'. The translation comes off oddly. Maybe it takes Italian to express this deep emotion.

No, I'm not zenophobic when it comes to my musical loves. Celtic music is another sure passion stirrer. It's the song writing skill of Andy M. Stewart, that get my blood moving faster. My top favorites are when he was in the group Silly Wizard. This album features The Queen Of Argyll:

And if you could have seen her there, Boys, if you had just been there, The swan was in her movement and the morning in her smile. All the roses in the garden, they bow and ask for pardon, For not one could match the beauty of the Queen of all Argyll.

I found the lyrics on the web, as a couple words were hazy to my ear. Okay, part of its glory is the heat of the guitar strumming intensely, and Stewart's delivery helps convey the vision. But I can SEE the woman for which he has such adoration. I know those feelings. This song makes me want to GET UP and dance. And sometimes, I've done so. Usually when no one's looking.

Oh such adorations! He has them again in The Valley Of Strathmore. "But if time was a thing man could buy, all the money that I have in store, I would give for one day by her side, in the Valley of Strathmore" Sigh, you really need to HEAR Stewart singing this so earnestly. All these songs, you need to HEAR them. For is the marriage of word and sound that makes the magic. Still, I'll try my best to explain.

But what I'm trying to express isn't coming through these words. You have to hear these singers. And even so, they may not create in you the same effect they do in me.

Music is not only a marriage of words and music. It is a marriage of the listener and the creators of the music, which exists in the listener's 'head space'. The listener brings all of his experiences to that space, including his memories, and mood of the moment. But then, all of life is experienced in that 'head space'. What one finds beautiful, another won't like at all.

If music doesn't please you, perhaps nature will.

I was at the Boyce Thompson Southwestern Arboretum with Laura and Julia today. Many of the plants were not there, or dried up, because of the season. But this time has its own charms. I caught a few things to savor.

enticing orange at the arboretum's garden

unexpected visitor at the arboretum greenhouse

view of an area in Superior, Arizona

Who are those people? They just were there. They help to show the size, though.

Whatever it is, if it lifts our spirits for awhile and helps us to forget our sorrows, and doesn't leave us feeling worse in the morning, it is beautiful!

January 24, 2000

"The Busyness of Bees"

These bees from last spring had big flowers to munch on

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made, Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honeybee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade. . . . . .William Butler Yeats

I now know where the expression busy as a bee comes from. Just one solo bee won't give you an idea. But if they're gathered by the thousands, it's an immense amount of bee-busyness. We don't have snow and nasty cold here in the desert, but flower population dwindles quite a bit. There's not a lot of pickings for hungry bees. In the arboretum, a few large, full trees had blooms. This rarity drew all the bees from miles around. Not many could be seen by my myopic eye, but I could HEAR them. The buzzing they made was tremendous. I stood under one tree and marvelled at the deep roar. Small things were raining down from the tree, and I tried to catch one. My hair was more successful at catching, and Julia picked my hair clean, placing the findings in my hand. The tree's flowers were actually clusters of tiny flowerettes. Only about 1/8 of an inch (3mm), they had five tiny yellow petals with a bushy golden center. The bees, being sloppy eaters, tossed some of their meal on the ground, as they fed.

I stood there for several minutes, mesmerized by the loud chorus. I'd always wondered at Yeats' line, bee-loud glade, and assumed the glade to be a quiet place, where nothing could be heard but the occasional buzz of a bee. If Yeats' hive was of any substantial size, it wouldn't be a silent idyll. Still, it would be just enough sound to be peaceful.

January 26, 2000

"In The Waiting Room Of Life"

Our new red car needs some repairs on it. It has a bad tendency to stall when turning corners. It's been to the shop once, and they replaced the spark plug wires. That's improved it, but it still stalls when the air conditioning is on.

So we were back at the dealer's today. They have a nice waiting room, complete with a TV, end tables topped with real live leafy plants, even a coffee table to try and make the customers feel 'at home'. But waiting rooms can never be comfortable, no matter what amenities there are. The agonizing process of waiting never lets you forget.

When will our ride come? When will our car be done? And when will I get inspiration on this piece I am writing? It has a good beginning and middle. The end is kind of truncated. It's a lightweight thing without a decent ending to weigh it down. I looked at it this morning. I can't pull anything out of my brain. Miss Muse has taken some time off and not left word as to when she'll be back. "I don't have time, Miss Muse! You've got to do better than this!"

She's not listening. So I'm left impatient in this large 'waiting room of life'. Oh, there's lots of iced tea, 7-up and snacks I can munch on while I wait. I have a comfy, padded seat. But I'm still waiting.