Monday, March 25, 2013

Three Little Words we are again.

Yes, here we are, and it's now Spring, despite any evidence to the contrary.  It's still beautifully, refreshingly, bracingly cold--and white!--here, as we come upon the end of this month of March, in this fine city which I frequently call home.  The snow has pulled back a step or two from the north side of the walk, but it's still well over the edge on the south and showing no sign of retreat.  In years past I seem to recall the big rivers being full swollen by this time of year, but we're only now beginning to see their many thousands of tiny rivulets come to life, to wend their watery ways beneath the soft white underbelly of Winter's accumulation... It's anyone's guess what's coming next, but for right now it's icy morning turns to afternoon puddle turns to evening slush turns to another crisp midnight...a steady, if cool, start to what will--no doubt?--become a fertile Spring, followed by a fruitful Summer! One could certainly hope for less.

With this change of seasons, comes a familiar beckoning: the call of migration, asking me among others to once again change my surroundings, my environment, my shape and size, my color and tone, my desires and needs, my intentions, my direction, my location, my frame of reference, my mindset, my tastes and smells and sights, my everything...

What better way to start than with a trip to IKEA??

Laughable, perhaps--but in all seriousness, I went there THREE TIMES this past weekend.  (I dare you.)  And in that strange warehouse of the spirit I encountered both ridiculous nonsense and respectable inspiration, a good amount of which will probably be returned within less than 90 days, and which included some slick shelf storage for my space-challenged kitchen (and by "space-challenged" I of course mean "lacking in square footage", not "imposed upon by the cosmos"), which I assembled at sometime around the witching hour last night (or perhaps the "whiching hour"?), with some amount of optimism.  Upon installation of said shelf--which was pretty much a *perfect* fit and addition, btw--I set myself to filling in the new and empty spaces with a bit of this and that, including a tin which had been situated in the far corner of countertop for long enough that I'd forgotten what it held--or was at least curious about its contents--so I pried loose the cap to take a look inside, and there I found...

Huh.  Now isn't just like me to go and leave something like that in there?  Not a soft pile of chamomile tea bags, smelling sweetly of allergies and metal, no.  Nooo, it's a little pink heart pillow, with a god-damned wishbone resting on top of it.  But, of course!  What else could I have expected to find, at this very moment in time?  And just what might I have been thinking when I arranged such a thing??  Effective, though... Touché, former self.


Moving on, today, I took a good-sized step in a new direction.  With a fair amount of apprehension, but also with assurance and resolve, I paid my dues in advance for the next nine weeks and met my new voice teacher this afternoon.  I came away pleasantly impressed, and I am both optimistic and grateful today, to the fellow who laid the groundwork; to a gracious and insightful professor with whom I look forward to working; to the enthusiastic clerk who sent me up the stairs (twice "brilliant", indeed); to Serendipity, with all due respect; and to myself, for having the good sense to pursue this ready tangent, and to discover how it might change me.  So far, so good.  Assignment no. 1: relax my jaw, and return with songs.

With that in mind, here's a little ridiculous nonsense for you, my esteemed reader, and a touch of inspiration from my ego, to my alter-ego:

(Hang tight, babe.)