Sifting into Place

The walls

Shine

With dry paint

And the books

Slowly

Sift themselves

Into cozy shelves

Ready for reading

Boxes emptier

Paintings almost up

Photos framed

Rugs rolled out

A few more days

And all is finished

(Then back to writing!)

(Hurray!)

I'll post pics soon. Until then, still some work to do.

Practicing

Sorry it's been so long, but I've been a bit busy. My house is two rooms away from being fully painted, and I also re-started a long-time interest. Last week I auditioned for The Sound of Music.

It's a musical I've been practicing for these, oh, past many decades, ever since I was old enough to sing songs on my own. I still remember watching it on laserdisc (yes, my family owned a player, and they amassed hundreds of them by the time I moved out on my own). One of my fondest memories of my father comes from watching this movie, for he let me scan back and sing "Climb Every Mountain" over and over, turning up the volume so that I could belt out the song at the top of my lungs.

Yes, others in the family complained. Thinking about it now, I'm not surprised. It was loud. I was only learning to sing. But when anyone did complain, my father would tell them, "She's practicing."

Last Sunday, that memory burst into me at a key point, when the director asked five of us to sing "Climb Every Mountain" solo to audition. One by one we stepped up and sang, and when it was my turn, the memory of my "practicing," with my father sitting there, without complaining, came to me. What a moment. I knew then what I'd been practicing for--for that one moment, that ending verse, the emotion, the message, everything.

When it was over, I felt so grateful to have that memory, and to have the chance to sing for my father, who passed away four years ago on March 9. (I tried blogging about this Friday, but I lost the whole thing just as I was about to post it.) I knew the casting didn't matter, for I'd sung to my father.

The moment isn't over, though. Maybe it was the memory, maybe it was all that practicing, but I earned the part of Mother Abbess, and when performances begin in May, I'll be belting that song out for the whole audience.

And maybe my father will be there, too, listening. For all I know, he was listening last Sunday, when all that practicing came to fruition.

Have anything you've been practicing for? Has it happened? No? Just wait. You never know when all that practicing is going to pay off, in more ways than one. Don't give up. Keep on practicing.

Show Me

Show me

The couple

With no kids

Who need a four-thousand-square-foot

Vacation home

With two pools

And beach access

Then I can look at my own home and feel bad

Show me

The yachts

The parties

Of the rich and snooty

Dining on specific kinds of cheese

I couldn't find

Unless I went to France

Then I can chew, tearful, on my vegan hot dog in a wheat bun

Show me

The drive of the spendthrifts

Who fork over thousands for trips

And wedding dresses

And man caves

And luxury seats

To watch a game, a play, a show

That I see for pennies on my television

Then I can wish I had the money to burn, to waste

No, wait!

Better yet,

Show me

People who care about something

Enough to work hard

To fix it

To feed those in need

To sacrifice their time

Their hard-earned money

And their whole lives

To help the world

Just a minute

I forgot

People like that don't make it on TV, do they?

Early Morning

The sun

Still sleeping

But I am awake

Not tense

My mind dreading

The tasks

Which wait for me

No

Today is an adventure

In organization

To turn boxes of old

Bags of donations

Loads of trash

Into gleaming rooms

To make a house a home

Not Dead

It's only been 20 days, but it feels like forever since I've had Internet access!

In case you'd assumed my death, you were wrong. I am alive and painting pretty much every room in my new house, now that we've moved in. I'll share more once I clean the paint out of my hair a bit. I might even give you a few pictures!

Hope all of you are doing well. I'll be checking all of your blogs a.s.a.p., I promise!

Madness

I'd say something profound

(Or at least attempt it)

But the searing itch of

Eleven mosquito bites

On two ankles

Is too distracting

Today

Not About You

Believe it or not

It might seem like the sun rose

Just so you could wake up

This morning

And get married

Or go on vacation

Or complain about the heat

But it rose to feed the trees

To feed the algae

To feed the countless lives

Stage by stage on the chain of life

And your waking was only one

Microscopic speck

Of the overall plan.

You might think traffic moves

Just so you can get to work

Or that old woman with coupons

Is in line just to irritate you

Or nothing's on TV

So that you can get the laundry done

Or cookies call to you

Or people wait to serve you.

Get over it

Get over yourself

You want it to be about you?

Do something with your life

To feed the world

To help people find work

Pay for groceries

Have clothing of their own

Eat.

Forget about being served.

Serve.