Not a Morning Person

This year has been one of self-realization. Well, not really. I've known these things, but now I have a place to post them and talk about them. It's like meeting a new person... it opens a new world of joy for you because the stories that are old and tired with your old friends have never been heard by your new friend. Suddenly, once again, you're funny and interesting.

So... with this in mind:


Hahaha!

Really, though, I'm not a morning person. I find myself grumpily rolling out of bed each morning way too early to two alarms with no snooze button. If I let myself have my way, I'm in my pajamas until after 9:00, even when I'm doing things. I feel like I could fall asleep again at any moment until about 10:00.

Mary Kay Ash truly was a smart woman. In her book Miracles Do Happen, she talks about being a "5 o'clock consultant." These women wake up at 5 AM every morning and get ready like they're going to go out. They then work until their families wake up and are extremely productive. She encourages all of her serious consultants to be 5 o'clockers. I know this works. When I wake up and immediately get in the shower, I feel refreshed and awake, even if I haven't had enough sleep. I can see how I'd be more productive if I'd just get in the shower as soon as I wake up, but there's no way it would be 5 AM. I'd have nothing I could reasonably do except paperwork. There isn't anyone I can call at 5 AM that wouldn't hire a hit man, save my friend in Thailand, where it would be 5 PM, but that would be a personal call, not a business call.

I even considered beginning to run again, like I did in college for my Phys Ed class. Ha! Yeah, me running. I had it all worked out, though. I was going to wake up with my husband and go running while he got ready for work, so someone would be in the house with the kids. I've tried running during the day, but the kids can only take about 10 minutes of it before they're climbing out of the stroller while I'm running. And it's too hot here. It would have to be early. Plus, I know myself well enough to admit that I'd do it for one day and not have the motivation to do it again. And then I'd have bought all the nice running gear that would never be used but couldn't be returned because I'd worn it once and sweated in it. So I figure I'm saving myself lots of money by using this self-realization.

I'd like to exercise but I can't afford the gym or a treadmill. The treadmill is definitely something I would use, though. I've always loved running on them for some reason. Running in an air-conditioned environment? Yeah, I'm spoiled. I guess I'll just have to wait until I'm a rich and famous Executive Director, and then I'll join a gym.

It's 9:53, I'm being especially lazy this morning, so I guess I'll go change out of my pajamas now.

*Ding*

Obsession complete. Please remove the plastic wrapping and remember that item will be HOT.

Just for your enjoyment, here's a photo of me on stage, taking a bow after a performance. It was taken by my hubby back in my college performing days. Yup, that's me. Clarinet in hand, big goofy grin on my face.

I picked up my clarinet from the shop today. It looks like new! It's amazing. The guy that fixed it even commented on how beautifully it plays! (Thanks, Mom!!! We knew the Buffet was the way to go, huh?!)

I am completely and thoroughly obsessed.

I got all my chores and work done especially fast today, because I've made music my treat for doing well. I finish folding laundry (and putting it away - I've gotta crack down) and make all my phone calls... the clarinet is MINE...

I looked at it longingly while I made my 20 calls today. Each call on the stack got me closer. It was almost like a drug, and I was ready to just hook up an IV. The good thing is that I booked 4 appointments (and left lots of messages). The GREAT thing is that I got to play my beloved instrument for a whole 15 minutes.

Wow. Just 15, you ask? Well, it's been a while, you know, and my embouchure has gone to crap and back. I'm almost starting from square one on toning the muscles in my mouth. After 15 minutes all I could tell my kids was "buuhhhh buh buh buh buuuhhhhh." Can you imagine? "Elahhh... buh buh bbbbbbuuuuh. BUH!!!" It's a good thing my kids know sign language.

They actually let me play, too. But that's only because my mom (THANKS MOM) brought them two recorders on her last visit. They sat right alongside me on the piano bench and played with me. Distraction? Nah. They weren't no stinkin' distraction. My piano teacher actually trained me on how to focus while distractions are happening.

To prepare us for competition, she would have us play our memorized piece while she tried valiantly to distract us and mess us up. This kept going until we got it right despite the distractions. I remember lights going off, piano lids being shut on my hands, her and her son stomping around, clapping and singing at the top of their lungs, putting their hands over my eyes and taking away my bench while I was playing, trying to distract me. Did I budge? No. I was the essence of tranquility and calm focus. Oooommm. 'Cause you never know when those judges are going to put their hands over your eyes, you know.

I'm grateful for that, though, because it has caused my Zen-like ability to focus on my music in any atmosphere. Even with two toddlers. Amazing.

And just for good measure, I practiced Doctor Gradus ad Parnassum by Debussy tonight on the piano for about an hour after the kids were in bed and the hubby was safely out getting a beer with his buddy. I remember it! My hand hurts like all heck, but I remember it!!! I felt like I had to play Moonlight Sonata as a cool-down exercise. So now my lips and my hands hurt.

I'm falling apart, but at least I'm enjoying myself.

My Mom has started a blog. The Princess commands that you read it AND leave a comment. Give my Momma a big blogspot welcome! She's getting pretty good at this computer stuff.

And just for the record, I did have pigtails and braces, but never a red and white checkered dress. I was in the sixth grade when I started playing clarinet, and kids get their butts kicked for that kind of stuff. It was bad enough that I played an instrument of my own free will.

P.S. I dropped off my clarinet to be overhauled today. Express-mail those donations, please. ;)

Sweet Symphony

Haha, Mom! No, they didn't ask me to perform with them. Although after the first movement of the first piece, my resolve to pick up my clarinet again strengthened to a full-blown obsession, and by the end of the fourth movement of Elgar's Enigma Variations, I was plotting the overhaul of my Buffet and infiltrating a community band.

I haven't been to the Symphony in years. I hadn't ever been to the Houston Symphony before Friday night. Walking into the concert hall, with the smell of old wood, soaking reeds, and bow oil really catapulted me back into my performance days. As I sat in the audience of the Symphony (right up front, stage right, it was breathtaking...) I vividly recalled what it felt like to be the one on stage. I was only in Orchestra for a year, but I played in many other bands right in the front row as the first chair. Wind Ensemble (on both Bb and bass), jazz band (on sax), a community band called Prevailing Winds... the joy, excitement, nervousness of it all. Worry about screwing it all up coupled with the ecstasy of sharing something you find so beautiful with people that will appreciate what you have to offer. I was hooked.

Again.

I never really left the world of music. It's hard to drop a passion, and I've been sporadically practicing piano over the past five years. But I haven't really played clarinet. I can trace that decision back to a horrendous and vile instructor I had at the University of Houston. Mr. Griffin. He was a griffin. All teeth and claws and no heart. He made me so frustrated that I lost my love for playing. Not for music, just for playing for him. Practicing for him. And when I lost that, I lost it all.

I remember playing in the ensemble, letting the feel of the music wash over me, the beauty of the harmonious chords and the dissonant ones, the building tension, and the release of the resolution. I remember it being my idea of heaven. And I'm so happy it can be again.

I remember how excited I was when I was in my advanced Theory class. Now that was my idea of a good time. Dissecting masterworks to find the underlying mathematical equation. I was never more pleased with myself at my accomplishment. Liszt? No problem. I can spot his equations a mile away. Contemporary composers don't use different equations, they just aren't afraid of dissonance. Doesn't mean I particularly enjoy listening to them (I prefer the Romantic composers, like most women) but I respect where they're coming from.

I guess it's time to brush the dust off of my Buffet and get it overhauled. I'm sure without even looking at it that it needs new pads and corks, and probably some fine-tuning on the lower keys for best playing. I'm now accepting donations to Jen's Musical Obsession Fund.

Oh, and I managed to get tickets to see Holst's The Planets in 2 weeks. Ah, sweet music!

Dead Ant, Dead Ant...

Dead ant dead ant dead ant dead ant dead aaaaannnnnttttt...

Another amusing ant musing.

I was taking a shower this morning (okay, quit thinking about me naked, I know you are!) and couldn't help but notice that the ants are back. OK, OK, so they never left. A small annoyance about living in a town where there is a sugar mill.

The ants in my house don't go for normal things, though. I have health-nut ants. They don't get into my candy. I can leave it open and they won't touch it. But I can't have a container of nuts or bread in this house that won't get hit by ants. It's just so dang weird. They swarm all over my almonds and 7-grain wheat bread and leave my chocolate-covered marshmallow bunnies from Easter alone. The real test was the Goldfish crackers. They leave the original crackers alone, and only swarm in the colored Goldfish, the only one in the line (other than the pretzel Goldfish) that doesn't contain partially hydrogenated oil. No wonder they're so little.

But this morning, once again, I found ant carcasses littering my bar of soap. Apparently my ants are hygenic, too. Every morning I have to scrape dead ants off of my soap to use it. Maybe these poor ants have a slave-driving obsessive-compulsive queen, and are sacrificing themselves to get her some soap. Brave little critters.

So, welcome to my world. I have health-nut ants with an obsessive-compulsively hygenic queen. Joy.

Oh Happy Day!!!

Despite being woken up at ungodly hours this morning, I had an absolutely wonderful day! I wore a new shirt, and had 3 different people comment on how they thought I looked like I had lost weight! (since yesterday? Probably not. It's just the shirt takes off inches visually with vertical stripes) On top of that, my networking proved incredibly fruitful today... 10 new leads and all of them to hear about the career. Yay!!! No so-so or on-the-fence leads, either. These were bonafide seriously interested women who were all sharp and friendly. Go me.

And the grand slam of the day?

I was offered a free ticket to tomorrow night's Houston Symphony performance of Chopin's Enigma.

And my husband said I could go.

Joy! Rapture! Exquisiteness! Raspberry, goober, yikes, snickerdoodle, and passion!!!

Good Morning!

Sometimes I think my childrens' purpose in life is to make sure Mommy never gets enough sleep.

Consistently they wake up around 6:15 or 6:30. Recently, my eldest is learning to appreciate dozing in bed until 7 AM (although she joins me in bed around 6:30). She crawls in, claims Daddy's pillow, and declares, "Mommy, this is my pillow. I don't want to smell you." (as if she doesn't have morning breath too! At least she comes by her aversion to smells honestly...) My youngest, however, is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as early as we'll let him be. Some mornings it doesn't even matter if we don't want to let him. I remember one morning this week he was up at 5 AM. Running around like he was at a playground, making lots of noise and definitely not interested in going back to bed.

And my poor daughter, if my son ends up in bed with us in a feeble attempt to get him to relax for a little bit so we can snooze for a few minutes, he rolls around like an acrobat. This morning he had one foot on me and one foot on my daughter, his head inbetween us, rolling back and forth and kicking, and making a sound like Chewbacca. If I had that kind of energy in the morning I'd bottle it and sell it and become an instant millionaire.

Forget Red Bull, because now there is Toddler Rocket Power! It will have you bouncing off of walls and tearing wrapping paper into tiny shreds within minutes... guaranteed!

Yeaaaaah...

Makes me think that if I had time for morning coffee, it would have to be consumed like this:


So, unfortunately, I'm off to start my day. The horrible thing is that most of my work today is phone calls, which I can't do for another hour or two. I've already checked my e-mail, fed the kids breakfast, and balanced the checkbook. So I guess that leaves... *cringe*... housework.

Ewwww.

Twosday Tag

I feel really bad. I haven't posted in a week. A whole week. I'm so sorry. I know all of you enjoy reading about my idiosyncracies and random thoughts and I let you down. :(

So, to make up for it, instead of Two for Tuesday (taken from the group sekondstory runs with that I was graciously invited into), I'm going to do some fivers. This also takes care of my tag from the coolest hippie chick ever. Other than me, of course. ;)

So... how do you like THEM apples?

Five minutes to yourself:
Catch up on e-mail and blogs, read a few pages in a good book.

Five bucks to spend right now:
Caramel Light Mochiatto with two sugars and a toffee almond bar.

Five items in your house you could part with, right now, that you hadn't thought of already?
The Christmas tree (I want a bigger one), about a box of jewelry I don't wear, the broken Marvin the Martian moving poster, the boxes of useless and outdated computer parts, and the high chair that my son is too big for. I hope all that stuff counts.

Five items you absolutely, positively could never part with in your house?
My scrapbooking supplies, my computer, my pictures, my Disney movies, and my spring fling dress.

Five words you love?
raspberry, goober, snickerdoodle, yikes, passion

And just for kicks, here's another neat picture from Julian Beever:

Two for Tuesday

I've been invited to join in on the Two for Tuesday. I'm honored!!!

1. I'm glad I'm not in corporate America anymore.


2. Actual cantaloupe smells differently than the candles bearing the same name. I found this out today because I'm smart.

Sunny Sunday

For the fifth time in a row, I didn't make it to church today. I'm such a heathen.

We woke up bright and early to go to the levy near the Gulf. We surprised my Dad for his birthday with a paramotor flight. My husband is friends with a guy named Andy who is apparently pretty well known in the industry. This was my first time meeting him, and he seems like a great guy! When we got there at 9:00 (yes, it took that long to get there), the wind was too high to fly tandem. So we waited until 11:30 or so for Dad to fly. I think he's found a new favorite sport. :)

We then ate lunch at a burger joint that really captures the spirit of Texas. Family-style, with big incredibly tasty burgers, outdoor seating, and a children's play area. You can't miss it, the entire roof is a big Texas flag.

And I realized something. There were a whole bunch of things I could be complaining about that happened today. But I chose to be happy today. I've been told before that my attitude is a choice I make. Sometimes it really hits me how true that statement is. We can wake up and say, "Good God, it's morning," or we can say, "Good morning, God." It's a choice. And our attitudes affect so much of us. It affects how I treat my children, because if I am in a bitter mood I'm less patient with them. If I'm in a good mood, I'm more likely to practice creative distraction techniques instead of losing my cool. It affects how I deal with everyone, from my family to my clients to my dogs.

For an example, my grandma Louise was the ultimate positive person. She was diagnosed with cancer in 1966 (I think). The doctors told her that she had six months to live. She kept a positive attitude and never gave up. She faced what she was dealt with a smile and a song. She died in 1991, a full 25 years after the doctors' predictions. And she is one of the people I admire most. I want to be just like her. Continuously positive, seeing the good in everyone and everything. If she was told someone was going to rain on her parade, she'd reply with, "That's great, 'cause I have a pink umbrella I'm dying to use!"

So... at the risk of being sickeningly cheerful and positive, try to see your life as half full and not half empty, no matter how much society tells you that you deserve to be sad or angry. In the end, you will be the person who stands out in the crowd, that everyone loves to be around, and who everyone wants to be like.

:)