You Agreed to do What ...?!

This is one of those weeks that I bit off way more than I could chew (an unlovely but appropriate folk term). Hosting a party on Friday for a wonderful young friend to celebrate the publication of his article in a professional journal. I don't pretend to have read it, much less understood what he tried to explain to me, but we're really proud of the acknowledgement of his expertise in print . Thank goodness that best friends, Emily and Mike, are co-hosting because I'd probably run out screaming otherwise. Nothing fancy, but one more thing on the calendar. Then I said I'd play for an open house on Saturday evening. Again, nothing fancy, but one more thing on the calendar. I rehearsed with the other harpist yesterday and felt like throwing the harp out the window afterwards. I'm fine doing solo work, but I pretty much suck right now playing the harp in ensemble. My woodwind stuff is quite fine, thank you very much, but I sort of suit myself with the harp. That doesn't work with an ensemble. And I have no earthly idea when I'm going to sit down with a metronome and a harp between now and then.

Additionally, I'm finding it harder and harder to hump the big harp around by myself. However, it has such a lovely tone, I guess I'll keep trying until I drop it or it falls on me! I suppose I should give some serious thought to just how much I use those bottom strings and see if I could convince myself that the middle harp would work just as well for schlepping about. It's not so heavy and the case is a whole lot easier to hang on to. The lap harp is just cute as a bug's ear, but I think of it only for taking somewhere when I have something to work on between other stuff. It's a really pretty thing, but has the limitations any lap harp has. About the time my back is screaming and my shoulders are on fire, I think, "Gee, a harmonica is looking really good right now."  I suppose it wouldn't be such a bloody expedition if I didn't have to haul all the impedimenta along with the harp; bench, music stand, floor drape, floor lamp, music books, tuner, tuning wrench, ad nauseum. It's as bad as a baby or a little league ball player! I see some of you murmuring, "Choices, Jayne, choices." Alas.

On a brighter note, I want to take a moment to give thanks for small blessings. At the end of my road, as one leaves the neighborhood, there is, across a field and state highway, a ridge that rises straight up. It is covered with all manor of trees from base to ridge top. For several weeks in the fall it appears to be aflame. The trees are all the different colors of the fall and it can take your breath away in the morning. It is lovely again in the spring as the trees come on in every shade of green possible (after they bloom). These undeserved gifts are such a blessing that I don't want to neglect to mention them. There was a huge and windy storm this afternoon before I left court. As I was driving along a street doing errands, I noticed some of the trees still clung grimly to some of their blaze orange leaves and, in the sunlight that came intermittently through, they shimmied and glittered like something the other side of gold. Just lovely.

I asked him what he was going to be for Halloween and he said, "A pencil." I said, "How can somebody be a pencil?"

"At my age, taking the easy way out is not to be despised."