Friendship and gas pains

A few days ago, I was able to meet up with a dear friend for a couple of hours to drink some iced tea, chat and watch her dog play. And it was just a joy. The sun was out. The city was buzzing with life. My kids were taking a nap, so I figured they would be safe if I just left the house for a bit. KIDDING!!!! GEEZE!!!! My parents were at my house building the deck. PROMISE. 

(That's her on the left. Who wouldn't want to be friends with that?)

I returned home just about the time the kids woke up. It was perfection. We played outside until Daddy arrived and Mommy then again drove off to see another one of those most precious, darling friends! I know! I have the life. Tell me about it. 

As I was driving to meet her, I was singing so loud and so good I swear Kelly Clarkson would have been jealous. (Alright... so I lie just a bit. But isn't it true that you sound like a star when the music is soooo loud?) The "windows were rolled down". The trees were budding. And someone passed me (on the turnpike) and smiled as he watched me singing and smiling all alone in my little car. I smirked back sheepishly, at first hesitating in a moment of embarrassment. And then I gave back a big, "cheeky" grin quite unabashedly. And he smiled back even grander, as if to say... "you keep singing at the top of your lungs, girl." I swear it wasn't one of those creeper smiles. 

And the night was just grand. I sat there with my beautiful friend as we laughed and giggled and gasped and stuffed food in our mouths in the small seconds of breaths in between words and smiles. We took an evening walk in the spring air. We drank tea. The feeling reminded me of those sleepless nights as a 13 year old watching movies such as Dirty Dancing and Big with a pile of girl friends amped up on root beer and Swedish fish. 

Anyways... I drove home again singing and smiling. 

And you know what happened?

GAS.

I'm telling you, people. I took in a lot of air that day. And it killed me the next morning. I worked at the coffee shop and had to go to the break room over 8 times to do the "camel". What? Never heard of it? Here's what you do: You kneel down on the floor, place your head closest to the floor and your hind end closest to the ceiling... so that the air that is caught in the painful places in your mid-section can rise to an exit. 

GAS. 

It was so darn painful. But the joy of friendship was worth it. Oh, so worth it. 

Crankin' out the tunes

Rewind about 15 years. You will find me desperately finagling with my parents a way out of practicing the "piano". It was a bad word to me. I had taken lessons, I am sure at first, very willingly. And then, as I had made friends and wanted to do things such as prance around the mall and watch Fresh Prince of Bellair and lip-sync to Shania Twain and play soccer... the piano lost it's luster.

image

Yet my parents kept encouraging me to play. They understood the beauty more than a 12 year old did. They noticed that, once I was actually on the piano bench... it became me. I enjoyed it. And, for a little tike... I wasn't half bad. But I wanted the "cool" things in life. I wanted to go to basketball games and do things like snuggle with our dog. (Basically anything that wasn't called "practice").

So, after 10 years of piano lessons... I stopped at the age of 17.

But last night... I had this urge to play. Our piano is still sitting in the house we are trying to sell. So, I printed off the sheet music to Sara Bareilles' "Uncharted" and drove over to play. I was all alone... in a vacant house... cranking out the music and singing to the top of my lungs. 

And it was so so good.

So, I sit here this morning and wonder how I am going to be with my own children. If I see something in them ignite with a certain "instrument", maybe a sport, maybe acting, maybe creating, maybe writing, maybe painting... how am I going to nurture it and what will I do when they resist the "practicing"?  

What do you do? Or what do you think you will do? 

Because that stinkin' twelve year old that wanted to run around the dumb mall is now very thankful. 

Stuck in the middle with you

Dance Party

Untitled from jenny stevens on Vimeo.

Do you hear the music?

Recently, we watched the movie, "August Rush". It is the story of an orphaned musical prodigy. And it is just beautiful. If you would like to develop the ear to hear the music in everything... the breeze, the birds, the ocean, the city noise, the working world, and even silence... watch it. And if you haven't heard of Kaki King until now... you are going to be amazed. Much of her music is featured in "August Rush". She's a bit of a musical prodigy herself. That skydiving cousin of mine that I love introduced me to her.