Here we are, a rainy Sunday afternoon, after making a big pot of cassoulet and plenty of almond biscotti to get me through the week (did you know I sometimes think about turning this into a food blog? But I don't relish the thought of taking all those pictures. Get it? Relish? Anyway...). The view from out my window is supernaturally green, like, shimmering, wet, green green. Unbelievable, Emerald Isle, spring green. And it has been all about the spring this weekend. We bought seeds on Friday for our future garden. So much potentiality and excitement in seeds, it makes me want to sing! And then Saturday we were engaged in massive, epic, earth-shaking spring cleaning. The kind where you don't just wipe down the kitchen counters, you clean out the fridge and all the old, weird food from your cabinets, and scrub off the greasy cabinet above the stove, and dust everything in the living room and clean up above the lintels of the doors. The house is so clean. It's...amazing. I wish it could be like this forever.
Not much headway on putting together a spring list, and actually, as I reflect, I'm not very happy with my achievements on the winter list either. I still haven't been to the Albright-Knox to actually see the gallery, although I was there for a splendid milonga a few weeks ago. I still, after two winters in Buffalo, have yet to spend some time sledding, although I did make it to the Powder Keg Festival downtown and wander through the ice maze. (Which, is actually nothing like sledding, but they had sledding down an exit ramp, which is why I thought of it. Unfortunately, the exit ramp sledding was not successful...). And I still haven't made it to an open jazz session at the Colored Musicians' Club and I STILL, and most disappointingly, haven't been to one of the Cajun Zydeco Partees! Sometimes I am surprised to find that, even with all my independence of spirit and embrace of the single lifestyle, there are still places that I don't feel comfortable going to alone. But that's a topic for another post...
On the other hand, I did spend time at the Botanical Gardens, I did enjoy a snowy romp or two, I did immerse myself in baking, especially breads, which was a delight, I continued to nurture my artsy, craftsy side, there was at least one delightful evening of Apples to Apples, and I made serious headway on another little side project which I will hopefully reveal the results of in a few weeks (if you think it's a baby you're 1. wrong and 2. have a seriously misguided understanding of biology.).
But, all list-making aside, I did want to pause for a few moments to clue you in on something that's been stewing and brewing in my brain in regards to this whole guitar thing. I realize that I've mentioned a number of times that I now own a guitar (her name is Lucille) and am trying to practice the guitar and be disciplined about so doing, but there is a whole philosophical underpinning to this endeavor. (Of course there is, this is me we're talking about). I feel like everyone should at least attempt a musical instrument in their lifetime, and I actually have before, round about the grade school years when all the cool kids were doing it. I made a half-hearted attempt on the cello, had to miss a few lessons for what I'm sure were legitimate reasons, fell behind in the class and couldn't catch up again and gave it up. It should be mentioned that I have no natural musical ability to speak of. I floundered when attempting to play the recorder, for heaven's sake (remember those? in case not, they were really, really easy to play). Somewhere along the line, I think you can see that it becomes something more than, "Everybody should probably do this."
Okay, at the risk of sounding arrogant, I have to admit that a lot of what I've done in my life has come easily to me. This is mostly because for the first 22 years, my life centered around academia, and that is an area at which I could naturally excel, even without necessarily trying very hard. Music is different. Music is tough. Music makes me feel dumb. I have noticed that if I don't practice, even for a week, I feel like I've lapsed so far in terms of the time it takes me to remember where my fingers are supposed to go and get them there. I get frustrated at being so slow. Practicing isn't fun. I would avoid it if I could. And don't even talk about music theory. That stuff is so far over my head...it's tough. That's all I'm trying to get across here.
But I believe that it is fundamentally good for me to do something that is so difficult for me. I need to learn how to stick with something through the tedium, through the boring exercise of moving back and forth between the A and D chords that I can't get away with not doing. I can't fake my way through it, I can't talk my way out of it, if I don't put in the work, I won't get any better. Imagine that. Hence all the talk of the need for discipline, and how I'm discovering that I don't have any. But I wasn't joking about that 30 day challenge. We are a week in, and although I did skip one day (for very legitimate reasons, but remember, in Guitar Challenge, there are no legitimate reasons!) I did practice every other day. I think good things are happening. They might not be. They might not happen for a long, long time. But that's okay. I'm gonna stick with it. For as long as it takes...
S.
P.S.--I love Castle. That does not relate in even the remotest way to anything I've just told you. But you should know. Because if you don't love it too, I probably think you're a bad person. FYI.
