August 2008 Archives

Last Monday, Mendon left for a few days (2 nights) to take his clients to summer camp. Now, I am usually afraid of being alone, the dark, closets, nightmares, intruders, mirrors, creaky noises, spiders, and of getting cold at night, but for those few days of solitude, I was so blissed out that I couldn’t be bothered to worry myself with fear. I didn’t cook (but I’m going to pretend that I was on a “raw diet,” it’s, like, for my health!), I didn’t have to clean up for anyone but myself, I read two entire novels, practiced plenty, got a bunch of jewelry posted on my website, and slept beautiful, uninterrupted sleep. I love having my own bed; some days I think that Ricky and Lucy really had something going for them there.

Wednesday night, we were scheduled to have Mendon arrive back, to host Feast, and to pick up my mom from the airport. While Wednesday night was a wee bit of what I might call stressful, it was completely worth it to get my mom into town and start a mini-vacation for myself. Little did I know that this mini-vacation would become in my brain my last chance at summer. Everything that I wanted to do for weeks and weeks of working full time and teaching and not seeing the light of day came out full-force once my mom arrived.

Sorry, mom.

So, this morning, I was talking to my junk Reese's Puffs cereal. And by my junk cereal, I mean to imply that it is my only cereal, and that I LOVE it, crave it, thank goodness it's fortified, because otherwise, I might as well eat cardboard with corn syrup on it (fortified cardboard!)

Me and my Reese's puffs were bemoaning that I teach violin in my own home, and we were longing for a day when (1) I didn't have to clean twice a week and (2) there would be fewer distractions in my teaching space. Number two has really been getting to me - we have these giant windows in our living room, where I teach, plus all of our art, our furniture, my husband getting home from work, making tea, forgetting his tea and letting the water boil, etc, etc, etc. But, alas, I have not the money for a second rent for my own studio.

:(

And then, me and my Puffs realized that, holy tamole!, who the heck am I kidding? If I were teaching in a school, or a shop (which is feasible), I would be fighting trombones, percussionists, and (urrrr) vocalists. Now my apartment seems a sweet baby lamb next to the beast of an electric guitar lesson in the next room, with nary but a (haha) fortified cardboard divider between.