Not Caring Quite As Much in Everyday Ramblings

My lodestar crocus, my groundhog. Year after year I look for these to give me a read of where we are with the season of regeneration and growth. When I see them, I know a universe of leaves are on their way. The work is happening, the earth is heaving with effort to renew and start again. The worms are out in force.

These crocuses are around the corner and down the block. We still might get snow, we have had it here as late as March, but it will only be a temporary distraction. The seasons are turning, Spring is in motion and on its way. One can smell it, like land after being at sea for an interminable voyage.

I actually smelled land once when I was coming in on a boat in the Caribbean. Up to that point it had been a figure of speech. I was out with a dive boat captain I had met the night before at dinner. That had been on Valentine’s Day, many years ago. If one is going to have a fling in the Caribbean, it might as well have started on Valentine’s Day.

Now my life is much more prosaic. At least in practical terms. The local League of Women Voters is having what we call a “Media Luncheon” on Valentine’s Day. This is our first time doing this since before the pandemic. We invited a bunch of local reporters to talk about their take on what is and what is not happening in our fair city. So far, we have 90 people coming. I am looking forward to seeing a bunch of folks I work with, in person. And all I need to do is show up and be there.

It is also in easy walking distance of my place. How cool is that?

On Monday I did another short presentation to the board on the budget. This is crazy making for me because the board meeting is in direct conflict with my Monday night class and what I do is end that Zoom call and hop onto another for the last 15 minutes of the meeting.

I don’t feel I am giving either my students or the board my full attention, but this is the compromise we have arrived at this year until June.

Then yesterday we had a board meeting on Zoom for The Open Road. This was about a deadline for a grant application one of the guys in the group wants to submit for a play he wants to write based on an album he produced a few years back. This is a prospective new board member, so it gets kind of complicated.

I want to support him, just like I want to support all the artistic endeavors of the folks involved with the group, but I am not crazy about the project.

It has brought up all sorts of questions for me. There were a lot of jokes about supporting the concerns of short, old, white people and how there is no way he is going to get a grant for something like this in this moment in time. One of our missions is, though, to support older artists who haven’t received appropriate recognition for their work before.

One of the coffee guys in our group has been on the committee that gives out these grants before and he doesn’t think there is a chance he is going to get the grant. He is determined to write the play anyway and I am good with that, I just hope he updates the material as he does.

We will see what unfolds.

Today I only had one class to teach and no other direct obligations. I am doing chores and if I manage things well, I will be able to read this evening.

I have 2 ½ weeks before the next phase in my dental journey occurs. I won’t have any big, complicated surgeries for at least six months, though there is an extraction in there so there will be some recovery, but I am happy about the break.

There is a list of ideas for 2024 on the wall next to me here. Ideas about the garden, the book, my teaching business, personal fitness goals, and housekeeping things I need to do. It is already February and I have yet to make a start on them.

I won’t give myself a hard time though. I hope that is one habit I have made a dent in, the self-chastisement.

That is one beneficial thing about being a short old person. Stuff doesn’t matter quite as much anymore.

Last updated February 07, 2024