Old Age Day by Day June 30, 2011

I'm more rested today and ready to face my therapist, and my husband's last day of work. Our two sons and I are taking him out to dinner. All the other kids are away. I think he's so exhausted he will need the rest of the summer just to orient himself. It will be interesting to see how he structures his time and what he chooses to do. I didn't really retire, as my daughter became and ill, and after she was better, which took several years, I just never went back to teaching. I have not missed it, I must say. I think I was a good teacher, but I felt the time had come to be a student again, and I've loved the shift. I grew up in rural areas, where we had to entertain ourselves. I was often by myself, walking in the woods, biking to the river, reading. I still love to read, listen to music, write, see art, knit, sew, do collages, visit friends, take myself to lunch and a movie. The time flies, and it feels wonderful to have more control over my days. I also love to travel, but haven't done as much of that in recent years. Perhaps now that my husband is retired, we will take trips, and I will feel freer to travel on my own.

My friend's visit has made me realize I have people to see and places I could be, and it would be fun. But, home or away, retirement agrees with me.

Old Age Day by Day June 29, 2011

My childhood friend leaves today after a week's visit. We have been talking up a storm. The reconnection was instant and deep. I'm so happy it has gone so well, and we are caught up and ready to meet again. It had been 45 years since she was out here. How time flies!

We had torrents of rain yesterday, and today is gloomy and wet looking, though no rain yet. All we're going to do is have brunch and then drive to the airport. Tomorrow is my husband's last day at work. Then Saturday is our younger son's birthday. So the last few days have been eventful and the next few as well. Big doings!

Old Age Day by Day June 22, 2011

The story about old age by Elizabeth Berg is called "Over the Hill and Into the Woods". It is complex, beautiful, sad and hopeful. It has that ring of truth, hard truth, that is rarely found. I'm reading the Billy Collins book, and the poems are honest and true as well. But I also was outside a lot yesterday, on a perfect day. My younger daughter, foster granddaughter and I ate outside at a nice restaurant in a beautiful hotel, and we had a view of the bay and bridges. Then we walked around a small lake and fed the ducks. We took the new six year old home, and went shoe shopping. My daughter bought these terrific blue sandals, and I was proud of myself for deciding I had enough shoes, in the end, after being tempted by two pairs of black sandals. My restraint these days is Herculean.

Today I hope to see one friend and talk to another on the phone, before picking up my childhood friend at the airport. But first, grocery shopping.

Old Age Day by Day June 21, 2011

I'm already sweating! It's great! Summer, and on the solstice! I'm wearing a sleeveless dress and sandals. Today my daughter and I are taking my foster granddaughter out to lunch for her birthday at a big hotel. I think she will enjoy it. Then, after she's dropped off, we're shopping for shoes. A totally girlie day, eh, what?

I'm reading a terrific book of short stories by Elizabeth Berg - "The Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted". There is a story in there that epitomizes the conflict of feelings about growing old. It knocked the socks off me. I also bought the new Billy Collins poetry book, and a book of essays by Paula Fox, one of my favorite contemporary writers. So I have a feast of literature.

Tomorrow my friend arrives. I have to vacuum and grocery shop, but I'm feeling ready for whatever comes. It will be interesting. She's more or less a stranger at this point, but we have ancient history together. I feel like that was another life and I was another person. But I guess this will give me the ability to see who that child was. Not that I will take what my friend says at face value, but it may cause me to have a window into that life. I feel I've been multiple people and there have been endless transformations. But what is steady? That is the hard question to answer. For me, as a Buddhist, the answer is nothing, except my connection to all life, and my part in that huge cycle. I'm grounded from my interconnectedness, not from some definition of myself. I'm a part of something, and as Buddhists says, I'm in the river, a part of it, flowing to the sea, but there is no way to tell which drop is me.

Old Age Day by Day June 20, 2011

I've been out buying a birthday present for my foster granddaughter. Today she is six. I ended up with Playmobil and a magic trick set. I was going to get her soccer goals, but she, so far, seems totally uninterested. I don't want to push it, because that won't help her mom convince her to join a team. Only having girl friends who are joining will work. I have no power over that.

Well, be careful what you wish for! It's downright hot today, and looks to be all week. So all the warnings I gave my childhood friend who is coming to visit may be wrong. Usually people freeze here. Oh, well, I can't control the weather or much of anything else, I notice. Yesterday, for Father's Day we drove to where our older son and his wife live, and it was super hot. We walked around a lake, had ice cream and then a barbeque back at their place. It was true summer. And my baseball team is winning games, so I have to hit the ball park soon.

I'm loving his weather, so I'm going to go back out in it right now!

Old Age Day by Day June 19, 2011

It's Father's Day, and per our tradition, I served my husband breakfast in bed. The kids used to take part, but now it's just me. He does the same for me on Mother's Day. Of course, I make the better meal, but I'm the pro. We're going for a hike later and having a barbeque at our older son's house. It's a summery day, so perfect for our plans. I have to think of my first husband, the father of my older two kids, and how he is absent and has been so for long. Twenty seven years, to be exact. And he hadn't seen them in many years before that. Yet absence it is. I'd wish him here if I could. He'd be proud of them, and proud of my husband and me for our raising and loving of them. But what do I know of him and how he would have changed? I know he picked a terrific second wife, and his son from that marriage is a dear heart. But what would have happened to him? It is unknowable. His memory is certainly alive in all of us.

And what of my husband, who has had to play second fiddle to that memory yet take on all the responsibility? Stepdads are unsung heroes. He loves the older two as much as the younger two. He took them on from the very beginning of our relationship. In our marriage ceremony he vowed to love and honor them as well. All his mistakes and faults have been magnified, while the "real" father lives on, idealized, immutable, and a symbol for whatever purpose. The dead are with us always, and we never cease our mourning, but those of us who struggle on must appreciate ourselves for what we do quietly and well. Honor and persist.

Old Age Day by Day June 18, 2011

It just goes to show you are never too old! Last night I went with my daughter and her boyfriend and his dad to see Y'ousou N'Dour and stood and danced the whole time. I didn't know I had it in me! It was so fun. It was a huge theater and there was such an inclusive atmosphere and so many people from Africa there that it felt like the United Nations enclave. Before the concert, we went to a nearby pub and had beer and hamburgers. But for dessert everyone but me shared "Bacon, Eggs and Toast", which was this bread pudding dessert in a ceramic cup that had chunks of bread, chocolate, bacon and an egg on top! It wasn't sweet, and my taste was amazing. It was the strangest dessert I've ever tried!

The opening act was Angelique Doro, and she was terrific. She had a bunch of women on stage dancing with her. Her message was peace and love and we all felt it. I love the drums and percussion in African music. It's like feeling and hearing your own heartbeat. I won't forget the night, and will play the songs at home, probably dancing with the dogs. Today seems pragmatic, but last night was magic.

Old Age Day by Day June 17, 2011

I'm going to see one of my favorite singers tonight - Y'ousou D'our. He's Senegalese and his music is so beautiful. He has a lot of Sufi influence and blends with many cultures. If you haven't seen the documentary about him, it's amazing. I seldom do shows any more, so this is a big deal for me. I mostly feel too old for the volume of noise, the crowds and parking. We sang one African song this time in chorus, but every session the director has us learn something from that part of the world, so I now have a little repertoire of songs. I know several lullabies and the rhythms are so soothing.

I've been listening to the two Virgil Thomson-Gertrude Stein operas, Four Saints in Three Acts and Mother of Us All. They are both delightful, witty and melodic. I was lucky enough to see "Mother of Us All" a couple of years ago, and in August I can see the other opera. But just listening is fun. Virgin Thomson was from Missouri, and I have a kind of pride in that, as both sides of my family hail from there. There is a lot of good music that came out of that state, both the jazz and country, but other kinds as well. My parents were crazy for jazz, and went to clubs in Kansas City frequently. They saw all the greats early on, and wherever they lived or traveled, they took in shows. They often dragged my brother and I along, so we saw Louis Armstrong, Dizzy Gillespie, Theolonious Monk, Charley Parker, Ella Fitzgerald and Sarah Vaughn. They used to play in the casinos at Lake Tahoe, or in the clubs on Broadway in San Francisco.

Right now I'm reading a biography of Monk, and it's fascinating. One of my favorite bios ever is about Louis Armstrong. What an amazing man. So even though my parents were tone deaf, they had pretty good taste in music for rural Missourians. I'm grateful.

Old Age Day by Day June 16, 2011

Today is my foster granddaughter's last day of kindergarten. I'm standing in for her mom, at the pizza party. I think I'll get some flowers for the teacher on my way there. It's been a big year for my little granddaughter, and from being nervous and overwhelmed she is now relaxed and happy. She's toughened up that little bit they have to do, but which makes me nostalgic for her little self pre-big playground. Next year she will be a girl, in that world that it is ruthless and ecstatic, confusing and connected. Girls are hard on each other. But they know how to make allies and bond for superhuman strength. She is a tiger, and she will do well.

Afterward, I'm going for a walk with a dear friend, to catch up and check base with each other. We bonded over our kids, but have remained friends through the tragedies and comedies of our lives. We've have been there for each other at so many important events: weddings, funerals, graduations, bat and bar mitzvahs, Christmas eves, summer vacations. And now that web supports us throughout every minute of our lives.

My granddaughter is just beginning her web, and we have the luxury of swinging in our old network like kids in a hammock. What goes around comes around.

Old Age Day by Day June 15, 2011

We're having a heat wave! Not a tropical heat wave, but a sandals and no jacket, with the fan in the window at night kind of heat. It feels so great. I have no idea what to do today to celebrate, but I'll think of something. My thoughts usually turn to baseball, but my team is in such a deep, deep slump that it would be hard to go if someone gave me a ticket. No, baseball will not be an option at this point. Maybe I'll make fried chicken, an indulgence I seldom allow myself. Then there is watermelon, if I could pick a ripe one, and iced tea. I don't have a beach book handy, but than can be easily remedied. I live seven houses from the best, most terrific mystery bookstore. It is a warren of mysteries, sci-fi, fantasy and horror books stacked to the ceiling, piled on the floor. It looks small when you go through the door, but it goes back and back, with many nooks and crannies, and has an upstairs cluttered with children's books, stuffed animals, strange plastic toys and god knows what else. The whole store is so chaotic that one feels triumphant accomplishment to find the book one was searching for, or even another book, that from the back cover sounds like a goodie.

This bookstore is my security blanket. If I'm down, bored, sick of having lunch alone with the dogs (their conversational abilities are severely limited), I walk down the street, pick up a book, and feel better just having it in my hand. My current treasure of a mystery writer is Benjamin Black (really John Banville, Booker Prize winner), who writes about a doctor in Dublin in the 1950s. His name is Quirke, and he was raised in an orphanage, a cruel Catholic workhouse, and now is in charge of the autopsies at a hospital. His character is, well, quirky, to say the least, and his curiosity boundless. It gives me a glimpse of an era in which I was a young child, and a country I love, and where I have relatives.

Well, we'll see what the day brings.

Old Age Day by Day June 14, 2011

A friend is coming in a week to visit. She hasn't been here in over 40 years! The last time she was out she was driving across country with her girlfriend after graduating from college, and she stopped on the way in Texas and secretly wed her college sweetheart, who was killed 3 months later in Vietnam. I missed her second wedding, because I'd just returned from Fiji with a 7 month old baby, and she settled into farm life in Indiana and I was out here. She had 3 kids, I had 4. I've seen her a couple of times when I went to Indiana, first visiting my husband's family, then with a mutual friend when her husband left her when she was 50 and then for her son's wedding a few years ago. She moved to New York, after she retired from teaching, to be near her older daughter, but it was after my two had moved away from Brooklyn, so I had no reason to be there. I found out she had done a few trips to Las Vegas with her two daughters, and had not attempted to come here, so I've been waiting for her to make an effort my direction. I know we'll be giggling and catching up, but we have an awful lot of catching up to do. We were very different as children and young adults, so it will be interesting to see how well we get along. I met her when I moved to Virginia at 8, and I left at 14. We were best friends in a small, small town, and she and her parents visited us once here when I was a senior in high school. She watched me win the audition for Angelina in Gilbert and Sullivan's "Trial by Jury". She worked at the House of Representatives and adored Richard Nixon, I was marching in protest against him. She married her first husband's best buddy in Vietnam, I married a South Asian from the Fiji Islands. But we talked on the phone, and have kept in touch through Christmas cards. I couldn't come to her older daughter's wedding because my older daughter was getting married in the same place (New York) two weeks later. I made it for her son's wedding, but her younger daughter's was on New Year's Eve in Indiana, not the time or place I could make it. Now she has five grandchildren, and I have one. Her father died only several years ago and her mother is still alive, in that tiny town, with her son nearby to see after her. I was glad I saw them both at their grandson's wedding, and it was poignant, because my parents had been dead many years by then. I want to see if she still takes an hour to "get ready" in the morning. I'd be done in ten minutes, unable to figure out what exactly it was she did. But she always looks good. I'm a grub, in comparison. As you can tell, I'm getting excited.

Old Age Day by Day June 13, 2011

When we were at a farmer's market yesterday, my friend was telling me we are in the midst of 3 eclipses in a one month period. One has already happened, a lunar eclipse is happening this Wednesday night, though we won't see it here, and one will occur next week. It made sense, because I feel unsettled, and my friends seem unsettled. We forget how tied to nature we are, and that there are gravitational pulls and tides and moody weather that may disturb us. On Friday, we had a sunny warm day, but then Saturday was windy, overcast then sunny then overcast, clouds turned dark then light, and the wind was rustling everything. My response is to take extra care of myself. In the afternoon my friend came over and we had tea in the kitchen. It seemed too electric to be on the patio.

We later got in the car and went to see Terence Malick's "Tree of Life". We are both affectionados of Malick, and had been looking forward to seeing it for some time. It was astoundingly beautiful, and the acting was brilliant. The story was universal and at the same time so particular. It was set mainly in Waco, Texas in the fifties, right after World War II. I saw my family, my father especially, and the world of my brother. The jealousy of one sibling for another. The small town life, now really gone most places. How we are haunted by the dead, and how we live, in a way, outside of time. What wasn't real to us at the time it happened may become more real much later. How our view changes of events over time. How our passions are often picked up from the people around us, without understanding the transference.

People either love or hate Malick, but he's definitely got a vision, and all his movies are about this world that is mysterious and unknowable. And how we are a part of nature, not separate from it. It is a view of the earth, or even universe as one living breathing organism.

Old Age Day by Day June 10, 2011

My foster granddaughter and I went to our local ice cream parlor yesterday after school, and we had an interesting discussion about the ordering. First, she asked if she could have a milk shake with her grilled cheese sandwich, and an ice cream. I said if she drank her milk shake (see how I carefully didn't say ALL) then she could have ice cream. So we ordered, and colored, and found nine odd things in the picture, then ate. She first ate all the whipped cream off the shake, then all the potato chips, then her sandwich. I drank all my water so I could put her shake in her plastic cup with the lid, and I saw that almost none of the shake was gone. The waitress came around and asked if we'd be ordering dessert. I said no, despite my granddaughter's pleading look. Then I explained to her, very rationally, I thought, that a milk shake was ice cream, and she had not eaten it, so I could not see the point in ordering more. She pointed out that she might not order vanilla, like the shake. I let this pass, though we both knew she only likes vanilla, and when she tries any other flavor, she says she doesn't like it and it gets thrown away. I can't have sugar, so it really is wasted.

Of course I broke down first. This is why she is going to be a trial lawyer, and I could only be the victim or criminal. So I said I had ice cream at home, but I wasn't willing to buy any at the cafe. She was satisfied. I carried her milk shake to the car, and put it in the freezer when we got home. She had mango mochi ice cream from Trader Joe's, and didn't finish it, so I threw it away. Then she asked for two tiny pieces of dark chocolate, and after she ate those, a third piece. My resistance having run down considerably, which she counts on rightly, she had the third piece. Then she said she was hungry. I offered her fruit, goldfish crackers and cheese sticks. She decided to think it over. Then she requested lemonade and water, which I supplied.

A million down a million to go. Bet on the little one.

Old Age Day by Day June 9, 2011

My gardener showed up today, and with mulch! You never know with him. I often wonder if he's quit or taken a job in L.A., and then he surprises me and even remembers what he promised to do. He's taught me a lot about expectation. I'm usually all set to fire him, have complained to all my friends, and then he returns, like the sun. He's amiable and hard working when he's here. The garden doesn't look dreadful, and I begin to realize that he has his own life and priorities, and since my garden isn't even near the top of my priorities, why should I expect it to be with him? It does make for a great joy when he surfaces. The sun is out, the gardener is here, all' s right with the world.

Today I have therapy, so it's time to prioritize what I want to discuss in my one hour a month. It does make for efficiency. I forget so quickly that if something pops into my mind, I figure it has a tug on me and maybe should be addressed. What I'm grateful for is that right now there is no crisis which must be at the forefront. Thank you for boring, ordinary days. They won't last forever, so I try to appreciate every single one.

Old Age Day by Day June 7, 2011

I rehearsed last night with the other tenor in my chorus. She's new, and hasn't had the music as long as I have, and we needed to figure out what was still problematic, as the concert is this coming weekend. She is very different than me, and hyper where I am laconic. She's also single, dating, and in a different universe. It struck me that learning to find commenality is a great practice. She is challenging for me. I do know we both have Ethel Merman voices and big laughs. That's a great start. We don't have to be friends, we have to get along. I let myself be irritated a few months ago, but now I get it: it is what it is. I need to help her learn her part. Yes, maybe she should pay for voice lessons with the director, and she has seen her recently, but she has chosen or can't afford to learn the material that way. So I'm it. And it is to my benefit to have her on the right line with the right note. I get confused when I try to sing over her in that instance. She, also, has tips to offer me. She is great at rhythm, and reads music well. Last night she showed me a couple of places where I was off, and I appreciated that. So we're accomodating each other. She sings an octave up from me, and I can live with that. I had a problem, and I solved it by changing my attitude. And being patient. She has pretty much caught up now.

Now this lesson applies to me as well. I need to be patient with my feelings when they are not "good". I need to sit with them, and not label myself bad for having them, but not be impulsive. Things change. With or without me. If I'm in a stew, I forget to notice. When I shift, so do the other beings I am interacting with. Amazing!

Old Age Day by Day June 7, 2011

Getting older creates the obvious losses like illness and death of friends. But another sadness for me is the retirement move thing. We've had dear friends move away to retirement destinations, and sometimes it feels like we are the only ones still around. There is a tipping point, I'm sure, but right now we're not at it. Still, having to drive many hours to visit, or fly across country or even just the arranging it takes to have dinner together is a blow. Things change. And this is another reminder, but I have to wonder how much place matters. However, collecting all these scattered friends in one location would be impossible, and moving to where any of them are living exiles us from others. My best friend is two states away, my best friend here is moving perhaps only a city or two away, but farther from me than before. What happens when we can't drive any more? My childhood best friend is flying out this month to see me after a zillion years. She lived in the middle of the country for the past forty years, but now she's on the other coast. Actually, it probably will be cheaper to fly to New York that where she was before. But it's a long haul.

Right now the anchor for me is probably that 3 of my 4 kids live here. I seldom see them, but I feel the connection and am comforted by it. But my other kid and the grandkid are two states away, and I miss birthdays, holidays, being there to help out when she's sick. My field is huge. It takes a lot of energy to maintain it, and my resources are not what they were. This struggle is one I share with other friends my age, and there is no answer. There is only coping and remaining fresh to what is up right now, and how to carefully care for myself and all my dear ones. One day at a time.

Old Age Day by Day June 6, 2011

Another rainy day. I've bought groceries, and plan to stay in the rest of the day, hoping for better weather tomorrow. Yesterday my daughter, her boyfriend and I went to see Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris". I'm such a Stein devotee that I wanted to see Kathy Bates playing her, and she was delightful. The ringers for the famous artists and writers are mostly dead on and it's great to see them. It's a fluff of a movie, with Owen Wilson as the Woody stand-in, and he mumbles convincingly. Of course, Woody/Owen is a genius (even Gertrude Stein reads his manuscript and approves - what a writer's fantasy!) who has many beautiful women vying for his attention. But the cinematography is gorgeous - it's a love song to Paris. One odd thing: Woody/Owen ends up with a French woman who bears an uncanny resemblance to Mia Farrow, and she is in the last frame of the movie. What's that about?
Woody wears all his obsessions on his chest for everyone to see. The plot is his usual male fantasy of beautiful women, the younger the better, who appear ridiculous but willing to do anything for a mumbler. Right.
The most fun is watching male reviewers justifying their identification with Woody. Allen has not grown, though he is shrewd, and casts superbly. This time, at least, he is playful enough to attract an audience that is beyond his usual. A lot of people will have fun guessing who the ringers are and laughing at the parodies.
My husband won't see one of his movies, because Allens private life is so perverted. But occasionally I see a film of his or Polanski, though of the two, Polanski really has something to say, even though his vision is dark and corrupt. But I'm not comfortable doing it. We used to know a family that had their daughter in a private girl's school in Manhattan. Allen was a fixture there at the end of the day, ooggling the girls. I'm not sure what the difference is between him and a peeping Tom. Pathetic, and creepy.

Old Age Day by Day June 5m 2011

There is a white cat in the next yard succeeding in causing my dog to bark. She's the protector, and you can see her go through this struggle where she knows her duty, but is nevertheless afraid. It's very stressful for her. I can identify. How many times do we make that leap on behalf of our children, our spouses, our friends, even ourselves. Recently, at a party of colleagues of my husband's, I had to force myself not to run back to the car and drive off. Nobody was speaking to us, I'd had other dismal experiences with scientists, and I was mortified. I stayed for my husband, and of course eventually someone did speak to me and everything turned out okay. I wasn't glad I had come, but was relieved I hadn't skipped like a chicken livered coward. How many times did I attempt something physical to encourage my child? Or speak up about a book list with a teacher? For me making phone calls is agony, but for my work, my students, my clients I advocated, because to no do so was a dereliction of duty. You don't have to be brave inside, you only have to act as if.

So I know she's scared of that cat, but she puts up good bark. That's usually all it takes.

Old Age Day by Day June 4, 2011

It's pouring down rain, and windy, and thouroughly unpleasant out. I've still got a bit of my mystery left to finish, but it's way too gloomy to be reading about the Civil War, so I'm going to have to make a run to my friendly mystery bookstore, luckily located only seven houses away. I looked over the movies playing, but nothing excites me. I'm waiting for the Malick film. We're about to surpass the record for rain in June, but this fact is not causing any celebration in my neighborhood.

My husband wants to go get wood and have a fire, but we did that last weekend at the cabin, and I do not find the thought cosy. I want to get OUT, without an umbrella, hat, raincoat, and the dripping in the car, getting in and out. Boy, am I spoiled! My husband is happily doing a puzzle in the dining room. But the dogs and I are gloomy.

Hopefully, some idea will occur, and in the meantime, I can work on my book. A little music might help. And cocoa.

Old Age Day by Day June 3, 2011

My husband and I filed for Social Security today, and for Medicare. Welcome, geezerdom. By the time I'd sorted through Senior Discounts and tickets, AARP magazines and the like, I'm prepared. I've had Medicare Part A for almost a year. Now for Part B! I am relieved to have begun the switch. It will take a couple of months for us to be official and have the cards. It still seems strange to be this old, and not feel as crumpled on the inside as I look on the outside. I'm so old now I no longer worry about what is age appropriate or if my hair is too long. I think witches have it nailed: long gray hair and black to the ankles. Hides a multitude of sins.

I was talking with my best friend yesterday and saying I'd begun a new book, and she worried it might not be saleable. For heaven's sake, even my books that are marketable are not really, according to the agents I've tried. I might as well write what I damn please. There is no audience anyway, so who cares if I'm writing a book about sitting with people dying. I'm beyond those kind of boundaries, at my age.

I've written a book about battered women's shelters from the workers point of view, and that, according to my agent, was supposed to be a mini-series. I've written a mystery, a comedy set in Texas, a book about a white woman and a Black homeless man she lets live in the basement, a memoir of Fiji. It matters not what I write - I do not have the luck of the Irish, or Scottish, or German. I have the luck of the Native American.

So, I'm free, free, free of success or ambition or judgment! Well, almost.

Old Age Day by Day June 2, 2011

Another overcast day. It does affect my mood. Not that I was going to the beach or anything, but I'm sick of the bookstore outing alternated with the grocery. I walked the dogs this morning, of course, but in a raincoat and hat with a brisk pace to outrun the rain, if necessary. There are some movies I could see this weekend, but the one I'm still waiting for is only in the city. It will take another week or so for it to be here. I'm sick of all my DVDs. Several of my friends are out of town or moving, so no lunch date. I have my foster granddaughter this afternoon, so there's that. But if it rains, nowhere to take her. We'll be watching Brother Bear yet again. She likes to see a movie until she's memorized it, then move on. Unfortunately, by then I've had a brain imprint and if I'm not careful, will turn into a cartoon character.

Tonight is a sectional rehearsal, which is not exciting, and tomorrow is dress rehearsal. I don't like the concert thing, as I've mentioned before, so this part is just to get over with for me. I am part of a group, so I have to do my part, but I'm way ready for a break, sick of the songs, and feeling pressure about doing a good job. Again, I'm not inviting anyone to come. It's not that I think we are bad, we're okay, and the songs are great and the director is wonderful. I don't know exactly what it is. I have no stage fright. I just don't want to perform.

I guess I'll write a while then read my Civil War book. I seem a bit damped down. Like the weather.

Old Age Day by Day June 1, 2011

I saw a documentary yesterday by myself: The Cave of Forgotten Dreams" by Werner Hertzog. It was beautiful and fascinating, about a cave in France recently discovered that has rock art from 32,000 years ago and before. The images are so beautiful and powerful. It leads you to imagine what these people's lives were like and to see all the connections between then and now. I'm going to try to drag some friends or family members to see it before it leaves. And I'm so excited about Terence Malick's "Tree of Life" coming out. It's not here yet but will be soon. His movies are so dear to my heart.

The weather today is like winter with more flowers out. Overcast, gray, threatening rain. I got caught in the rain a bunch yesterday. Today I'm going to work and read, only going out for my voice lesson. I'm reading the book about little girls and Disney Princesses and it's fascinating. My girls were all grown up before this phenomenon hit childhood, but I see it with my foster granddaughter and granddaughter. It helps that the writer is funny and not judgmental. She had a genuine curiosity to understand what was happening to her daughter. Her research is eye opening. I"m grateful that toys and clothes for girls used to come in colors other than pink. With the granddaughters I just pick what I approve of to give them - the pressure is on their moms. And the pressure sounds like it's huge.

Well, I shall do my best to cheer myself up on this gloomy day. And try not to think too much about global warming.