bits

It’s like this: I am soooo glad I didn’t make any new year’s resolutions because they would all be soooo broken already.

Son withdrew from college and is enrolling at community college tomorrow-last day of late registration before classes start Wednesday. Can you say “by the skin of yer teeth?” I’m wondering, of course, what I did wrong that caused him to be, um, unsuccessful his first semester. He didn’t flunk out; just didn’t do all that great. But it has to be my fault, because I’m neurotic and everything is my fault. A counselor told me many years ago that he was surprised when I DIDN’T take responsibility for the famine in Ethiopia. Go figure.

We’ve been moving from house A to house B for almost a month, and we’re still in the process. Boxes at both houses, messes to clean up in both houses. Treasures to discover in both houses. Stuff that was my dad’s. Stuff from the kids’ babyhood. Stuff from my babyhood. Smiles and tears. Sadness and laughter and recognition and fresh grief all tied up in a big knot that settles on my left shoulder and works its way down to my knees.

Last time I played the piano was on 12/22, prelude for 11:00 church service. It was, without a doubt, the worst playing I’ve ever offerred up in my life. Ever. I don’t know what happened exactly. Fibro was bad, concentration was bad, piece was as old as dirt, played it a hundred times and 99 of those times it was ok. Once, back in high school, I competed for a scholarship. Made it to the third level out of four. I played the first movement from Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. The auditorium was on the campus of a small, private college. Halfway through the piece, a short, round, middle-aged drunk man wandered into the auditorium and said, loudly, “Is this the class of ’56 reunion?” I got a little goofy, but managed to pull it back together in short order. He gave me an excuse to really mess up and I managed not to. I’d like to think I had an appropo excuse for the 22nd, but nope.

Little girl fell of her horse last week while practicing jumps. She has a couple of nasty bruises as a result, and a confidence problem. So tonight her instructor had her put a Martingale on horse so horse couldn’t pull her head up and yank girl off. Eventually they both had to face that same jump. Girl didn’t want to do it and was in tears over it. So, being the “parent” I told her she needed to get past the fear, over the jump and back to the fun of riding. She did. Horse did. Happy ending.

As for me and the piano, a biblical quote comes to mind: “Physician, heal thyself.”

It seems like, whatever I’m doing at present, I have some decision to make. Do I keep this or toss it? Where does that go? What needs to be done in what order?

Then there are the questions. What on earth is that thing? Where did it come from? Do I need it? Oops, decision time there. Is it ever going to stop raining and act like winter?? How do I help son understand that he must make some decisions, because he needs to grow up and be able to provide for himself? I don’t think manna is in season.

I stopped coloring my hair, so now it’s gray. Two people today asked me what was up with my hair. I told them. One said I looked too young to have such gray hair. The other said it looked “cute”. Cute? I’m wondering how long it’s been this gray. I’m also thinking (w/ apologies to CG) that I’m not quite ready emotionally to see that particular reflection looking back at me from the bathroom mirror. But then she’ll say that’s why she doesn’t own a mirror, so I have no excuse. Oh well.

Is there a crystal ball, or some fairy dust, or something that will tell me what I’m supposed to do with the rest of my life? Because I’m sort of taking up space at the moment, using my carbon footprint without earning any carbon credits, just inhaling nitrogen / oxygen and exhaling CO2 and adding to the global warming crisis. Oops, that’s global climate change crisis. I did learn yesterday that I should eat more chicken and less red meat, which will result in a decrease in my carbon footprint because chickens don’t live as long as cows, and because cows live longer their flatulence adds to the crisis. Washington wants to tax cow farts, seriously.

I want to see a tax imposed on Congress-critter farts, seriously.

But really, it’s time to figure out what the next phase of life has in store for me. Today is the first day of the rest of your life, and all that 70s stuff.

I may go to community college late registration tomorrow and sign up w/ son. Maybe if he winds up in class w/ his mommy he’ll try harder. Wouldn’t it be embarrassing to be upped in physics class by your mom???? Potential?

Maybe.

Time for Jay Leno’s “headlines.”

I need a laugh.

We all do, I think.

Advertisements

3 responses to “bits

  1. I recently read that gray is the new blond.

    Moving house – a little bit of heaven and a lot of hell.

  2. Hm, now I’m wondering if I really wanna be “blond”…

    Agreed: lots of hell, for now anyway.

  3. get back on that horse and ride.

    And sometimes I don’t recognize my reflection. I’ll tell you, it is freeing in a way people wouldn’t believe to not have your self-image (how you see yourself) so tied to that mirror in the bathroom.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s