Leaving My Footprint

I'm not a very good friend to the environment.

I try, but I could try much harder. Sure, I recycle, and I try not to leave lights on, and I do all my laundry on the cold setting. But there's so much more I could probably doing. And I feel incredibly guilty about my hour-long commute to work each day.

Today I did something. In the grand scheme of things, it was tiny, but it was at least an effort. I had some work done on my car, and the shop called to tell me my vehicle was ready. Rather than hitch a ride from a friend, bus, or cab (my husband is out of town this week), I decided to travel to the mechanic the old-fashioned way: I ran. Those 2 1/2 miles gave me a chance to explore a couple of side streets, I got a good workout, and hopefully I gave a little hand to Mother Nature.

Beet red and sweating profusely, I also scared the heck out of the cashier at the auto shop, who thought I was about to keel over. But I'd like to think I inspired him a little, too.

The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

This is going to be a long year.



I love teaching. I love the students, I love my subject area, and I have pretty good schools (because I teach orchestra, I travel between 4 schools).



But despite all that, I'm finally ready to try something new. And now that I've made that decision, it makes going to work very difficult. I just want to write, and travel, and take pictures, and explore new options, and see the world, and spend time with my husband, and live with a different schedule for a while. Maybe for a long while, maybe for just a few months, I really don't know. I just know that getting up at 5 every morning in order to go stand under fluorescent lights and fight with administrators who don't think the arts are a beneficial part of the schoolday? That is no longer appealing.



I'm not going to throw in the towel. I will work as hard this year as I have in years past; I owe that to my students. But it's very hard in the meantime to try to do my job and at the same time start laying the groundwork for this next stage. I know people have done it--they're out there now, living that dream they worked so hard to achieve. I just don't know how they found the time to work a regular 8-10 hour day and then research and write and plan on top of it all. School has only been in session since August 8, and already I feel overwhelmed trying to find that balance between the present and the future. I guess if you want it badly enough, you find a way to make it happen.

A New Journey

"My thoughts jump around like a monkey."

The first time I heard that, I was sitting in Gambrell Hall at the University of South Carolina. My best friend and roommate Katie was taking a religious studies class, and as a course requirement she had to sit through some panel discussion. Like a sucker, I went with her (as she had often suffered with me through organ and trombone recitals). The Hindu representative was caught completely off-guard by a question, and after struggling with an answer that's the best he could deliver. I don't remember the question or anything else from that panel discussion, but I loved the image of little monkeys jumping around, creating total mayhem in the guy's head.

I've got me some monkeys right now.

I love to write, and I have always been working on something, even when it was just for my own eyes. I have a diary that dates back to fourth grade. I have poetry and song lyrics, most of them awful, from high school and college. The interest in the diary petered out in 2002 when I started my first blog, and I have been posting on and off ever since.

My other huge interest, aside from music, has always been travel. My old bachelorette blog, What's Brewin', chronicled lots of my trips like day-hikes near Asheville and a weeklong cruise to Alaska. I even did a separate blog for my Europe trip. I love to travel, I love to write about travel, and I love learning about other people's travels. The travel-writing community has increasingly become the place I want to call home.

The big question has been how do I go about this?! Am I even a good writer? No one reads this blog, so my knee-jerk answer is "No." But dang I love it. I have two college degrees, both in music education, and all my post-college work experience has been of the same breed. I know it will be a ton of work to learn the ropes, make contacts, and try to get good at this stuff. And yet it still keeps calling me. Usually when I get a risky idea, I begin to realize the consequences and suddenly it no longer sounds that appealing. (Veterinary tech school sounded awesome. Until I realized I had to perform a castration and anal excretion exam. Back to the violin I go!)

This time I can't talk myself out of it, and honestly I've tried. The low pay, the crazy schedules, the hassles that come with travel...it all just sounds exhilirating and challenging rather than frustrating and profit-less. I think I really want to do this. The only big mystery left is my ability.

So I've taken some baby steps. I enrolled in a travel writing course, I've read two books about the profession's ups and downs, and I started writing some "real" stuff on a couple of travel webpages. If I try and fail, I'll be very disappointed but I'll live. If I don't even attempt something new, I'm setting myself up for an adventure-less life.

So here goes a new adventure. Wish me luck...

A Lesson in Karma

Several weeks ago, my husband left the house for a quick breakfast run. He reappeared only a minute later, looking sad and dejected. I went outside with him.

His car was covered in bird crap. We had never seen anything like it; it was as if they had poopball guns or something, sat on the telephone wire above our driveway, and shot target practice for hours.

Like a good, supportive wife, I was amused and cackled for at least ten minutes. It wasn't my car, ha ha ha!!!

Fast-forward to last week. During our lunch at Kennedy Space Center, I sat alone at a picnic table while Marc walked away to take a phone call. Almost as soon as he left--they were looking out for him!--a large gull let one rip and it landed within inches of both my arm and my meatball sub. Needless to say I was uncomfortable finishing my sandwich, and Marc was tickled when he returned and saw the fun he had missed.

I thought that was it. The birdies got their revenge, we were even, life goes on.

Saturday I played a very elegant beach wedding in Clearwater. The guys wore suits, the girls wore long flowy dresses, and it was a lovely affair. And there I was, the refined violinist, in her dressy black and heels. A hundred guests, a professional photographer, and a videographer all looking on as I played the meditation music.

I never saw the bird, but I'm sure he looked pretty smug as he flew away.

I Do Not Drive A Lexus

I know very little about cars, so I hate taking mine to the shop, even when it's just for a routine oil-change. Inevitably what I expect to be a routine oil-change suddenly becomes a dire situation which more often than not involves a few mechanics taking all of my car's innards out, throwing them around on the garage floor, splattering each other in oil, reassembling the car, and charging me $700.00. I hate it when they do that.
Today I got very lucky and left after receiving exactly what I asked for: a routine oil-change. No pressure to buy new wiper blades, no persuasion to have my transmission fluid flushed,not even a suggestion to have my tires rotated. The service was friendly, relatively quick, and less expensive than my previous dealership. And on top of everything, there was free entertainment in the waiting room.
I took my book and my Mickey D's sweet tea inside, where I plopped myself down into the first empty chair I saw. The tile floor amplified the deafening television, and I was amazed to observe a couple in their twenties glued to the set while their infant daughter sat alone, babbling in her stroller.

Scene: An Automobile Service Center Waiting Room

Woman to Man: But DNA testing isn't 100 percent correct.
Man Screaming to Television: (laughing) Y'see? Now you stuck. Now ya gonna have to stay with the bitch. That baby's yours, man!
Woman to Man: SHHHH! Don't say 'bitch.'
Man: Don't tell me what to say. I'm gonna go piss. (walks away)
Woman to Infant in Stroller: (in baby talk voice) If ya daddy don't fix hisself, me and Daddy's gonna be on Divorce Court, too.
Infant in Stroller: ---

Best Wishes

I played violin at a wedding last weekend, and it was one of the few where I didn't feel very good after it was over.

The music was fine, don't get me wrong. But it was one of those rare instances where the bride and groom and their families just didn't seem to have that "glow." I feel terrible saying that, I don't know these people and maybe they were elated and I simply didn't see it. But there were some red flags all along, and 4 days later I'm still mulling it over and worrying about their marriage.

When I sent the bride a playlist months ago, she wrote me back "just play whatever you want. We really don't care that much about the music." I know most people don't get as much into music as I do, but most brides (and some grooms!) show at least a little concern. Communicating with her was like pulling teeth; her phone was mysteriously "out of service" and she went through 3 different email addresses over the course of 2 months. I never received her payment, and after politely reminding her that my fee was due a week before the event she promised I would have it at the rehearsal the night before. It didn't happen, and I had to eventually chase down her dad while the photographer took family pictures after the wedding ceremony (I majored in music education, not business or entrepeneurship).

There were other things that were just strange. The bride cried--like really loud, sobbing not silent, smiling tears--through the entire event. Perhaps it was in part because her three-year-old daughter, aka Flowergirl #1, threw a fit before coming down the aisle. Or maybe it's because the groom's father's 20-something girlfriend (got all that?) arrived wearing a strapless, fitted, ankle-length WHITE dress.

I hope when the stressful logistics were figured out, they were able to laugh and relax and just goof off and enjoy their day. I loved every minute of my wedding day, and I hated to leave this one feeling sad.

It's The End Of The Year As We Know It

School's out once again, and today marks the beginning of My Summer Vacation. This year felt a little longer than usual; because I moved last June, I spent last summer finding a job and then jumping through the various hoops required to teach in Florida.



So I am extremely happy to finally have a hefty chunk of down-time here in my still relatively new town. I've lived here for a full year now, but I have done very little exploring other than a few beaches and a handful of restaurants. I'm looking forward to some shopping, eating, visiting museums, running a 5k or two, and hopefully taking my first cooking class. A trip out to Oregon and maybe a visit with my little nephew, and this should be a full, but relaxing, summer.

Thoughts While Cleaning My Closet

Any garments that are seen in pictures that also depict the only asshole I ever dated should not also be seen in my closet. Especially since I broke up with said asshole in 2001.

I have way too many striped tops.

I have way too many yellowed race/organization/festival t-shirts, and hardly anything to wear to work or out to a restaurant/bar/concert.

I need to find a deodorant that doesn’t ruin all my silky shirts.

On the off-chance that overalls come back in style, it’s highly doubtful that I’m going to be able to wear the same size that I wore in 1995. (While listening to Pearl Jam on my Sony Walkman and rollerblading across a college campus. Super-cool.)

Scenes I Hope To Remember

As I enjoy a rainy thirty-first birthday, I think about how lucky I am. I've experienced some amazing food, travel, and, most of all, people in my short time here. A handful of the many things I hope never to forget:

1. Dad's face when he told me I won the pony
2. Hearing that I had a baby sister
3. Meeting Slugger for the first time
4. My first telephone conversation with Marc
5. Mom teaching me how to make tartar sauce
6. Mom taking us to the bookmobile
7. Playing at The Rock with Mart, Beth, and Alisha
8. Riding the see-saw at the Mitchells house
9. Hearing my name called at graduation
10. Dad telling me he had talked to my principal and they were going to let me take violin
11. Flying in a plane over Alaska
12. Riding in a convertible for the first time
13. Hearing Marc repeat his wedding vows
14. Dancing in Myrtle Beach with my 3 best friends
15. Hearing Mart tell me about his new baby
16. Tubing on the Green
17. Buying my first margarita legally
18. Playing violin at my grandparents' anniversary Mass
19. My first view of the Eiffel Tower
20. Feeding kangaroos in Tasmania
21. Crying on the beach, admiring my new engagement ring
22. Riding in a pick-up truck to get Katie's wedding dress pressed
23. Hiking at Multnomah Falls
24. Playing kazoos at Thanksgiving
25. Unwrapping wedding presents at my bridal shower
26. Cosmic bowling in Columbia
27. Chatting with Guster band members
28. The Dr Seuss ride with Amy
29. Eating homemade brownies with Katie and Shareen
30. Laughing at The Melting Pot with Marc, Mom, and Dad
31. Trying to drive a stick
32. Gazing at waterfalls at 2AM in Findley Park
33. Climbing a tree to pick mistletoe
34. Getting my bellyring
35. Seeing The Producers from the third row
36. Taking my students to Mirabell Gardens and singing the Do Re Mi song
37. Walking to school with TR, Eric, and Jason
38. Singing in the 7th grade assembly
39. 80s music video nights with Marc
40. Snorkeling in the Bahamas
41. Acting out Beauty and the Beast with Sara while working 3rd shift
42. Winning my first 5k award
43. Feeding the deer at Hollywild
44. Baking Christmas cookies
45. Having the girls over for lasagna and salad
46. Riding the boogie board
47. Playing Marco Polo at the Kendalls
48. Watching him ride his bike on Mackinac Island
49. Opening my apartment door to a dozen roses
50. Picking blackberries for Mom and Dad's famous ice cream

Humble Pie

There are few positions more vulnerable than standing in a bathroom with your pants down as a stranger accidentally walks in on you.

Unless you're a teacher standing in a bathroom with your pants down as your principal accidentally walks in on you. That's probably worse. I think.