I t could be said that I am late posting today. With the change in the weather, sleeping has become an option again, and it would appear that I am indulging myself to the fullest. Not even the gentle insistence of the 20 pound cat jumping on me this morning would rouse me…and these things are rare enough that I would rather be late for the rest of the day than to give them up.
A side effect of enough sleep is an active mind, and it is only through great restraint and the fact that I had the sense to sit and write my journal post first that you-all don’t have to be the recipients of my musings from my walk. I have to say that they all started with the contemplation of today’s blog post – which became a mental discussion (by the panel of experts in my head, hosted by Alistair Cooke just because I like him) about the nature of anchorage and my mother’s threats to place my young self in a convent with “walls twenty feet high!” From there the conversation wandered to the difference between being a mother and being a polymath…it was lively this morning.
I have lived in this neck of the woods long enough to have watched people’s kids grow up, graduate college and get jobs – careers – measurable success. It is a really cool process, all things considered – especially if you don’t have kids yourself, so can divorce yourself from the actual milestones as far as they relate to aging. My brother, by way of example, with his three kids, cannot separate his own mortality from the maturing of his kids. Too bad. The nice thing about being the auntie down the road is that when one of those kids learns how to cut hair, I can make the phone call and she will come to my studio, sit me down on a stool and give me a shearing. It is up to me when she leaves 5 minutes later, to sweep up the mess and – oh yeah, make a guitar. It is the way of things.