Krissie: Oooops

I forgot that Mini-me reads here. I share everything with everybody, but for some people it’s definitely TMI, and my sweet little niece doesn’t need to know details about my sex life. I mean, she’s only 44 — she doesn’t know about these things.
Jesus, she’s 44? She used to be a baby! She used to be a skinny, long-legged teenager. What happened?
Well, she still looks like a teenager.
There’s a great song by Sandy Denny (one of my all-time favorite singers) called ‘Who knows where the time goes.” Judy Collins had a famous recording of it, but Sandy’s original has one of the most beautiful vocals I’ve ever heard. You know about phrasing? If not, it’s what Frank Sinatra did beautifully. You’ve got the song as written, and then phrasing is the way you sing it, the slight wait at the beginning of the line and then you catch up, the way you hold certain notes, etc. That’s what Sandy does with that song (she wrote it, btw).
Music’s my second passion. I lived in NYC and worked there simply for the chance to go hear music, and I did. I heard about everyone back in the last 60s and early 70s before I moved up here. In fact it was music that made me move here.
I had gone to hear everyone. Chicago went from the bottom of the bill as Chicago Transit Authority to the top of the bill as Chicago. (BTW I never liked Chicago — they were just always with other people I wanted to see). I saw Sam and Dave, Derek and the Dominoes, Cat Stevens in a tiny coffee house (and in Philharmonic Hall a year later). Creedence, the Kinks, the Stones, Janis, Jimi Hendrix when he was Jimi James and the Blue Flames (before he went to England). I was at the Stones concert in MSG where Ike and Tina Turner opened for them and Janis came out and sang with Tina.
But one night I was in Central Park, listening to the Band, and they sang “Rocking Chair.” The sound floated over the warm night air and I knew I’d seen Ten Years After one time too many.
So I moved to Vermont to write my first book. Did I talk about this before — I don’t remember. Did I tell you how David Carradine saved my life? If not, I will, but that’s for another day.
For today, it’s so freaking gorgeous it could make you weep. Exquisite — the temperature is about 70, there’s not a cloud in the sky. It would be a great day to go for a hike, but I can’t walk. Not sure if it’s warm enough to go in the lake, but I hope so. In the meantime, we’ll work on the house. (Notice how other people do things with friends on Labor Day? We got no one. Richie has his cousins, so maybe he’ll get a little socialization but for me, nada.)
(i just reread this, and realized I forgot about my BFF. Though Sally’s pretty tied up with her new grandson, and she’s only been around about three weeks this year, so it’s easy to forget she’s here right now. So I need to stop feeling so damned sorry for myself.
Anyway.)
And now I’m starting to feel edgy and blue and that’s ridiculous. I’m going to bustle and declutter and be busy, and I’m going out in the sun and enjoy the glorious day.
I’ll worry about socialization later. I might even sew. Lots of glorious possibilities, and I’m not in the mood to be depressed. Not on such a beautiful day.
Low-grade depression can be a choice, and I choose to seize the day and be glad in it (how’s that for a mish-mash of ancient Roman and Christian philosophy?).
Because, damn, it’s beautiful outside.