Do a Dance! Ian is Home! LA-CHA-CHA-LEE-AH-LEE-AH-CHA-CHA!!!!

I got to eat at Deb’s tonight since she was having her grad class over. It was all veggie fare–red lentil soup with raita, tabbouli, deviled eggs and dill pickles, tuna salad, and some kind of yummy pasta salad with pine nuts, sweet red peppers, and Greek olives. Lots of good bread, herbal tea or lemonade, cookies/brownies with decaf and cream for dessert. I got to eavesdrop on their last class of the quarter–winding things up on British lit during the Great War. Don’t have a clue about the subject, but it was oh so interesting to listen in and to see my dear friend in her professorial element. Then outside on her deck to read in the twilight with my best friend dog at lying at my feet. Luckily Deb reminded me to come in one minute before 24! Oh, you bad Clansfolk who got me hooked! (Nancy shares some of the blame).

Last night KK and I went to Lex to the Cathedral for the Lifeteen Mass. I was hoping to see Fr. Paul but we had a newly ordained priest instead. Since I am a stranger in my own land at St. Mark I am now better off seeking a place to worship elsewhere. The music at the Cathedral for this Sun. p.m. Mass is incredible–contemporary Christian at its best. These people have recorded professionally. It is beyond me why our bishop chooses to broadcast on our Catholic radio station Masses from St. Luke (congregational minimalist singing) or St. Mark (Sat. night when no one but the cantor sings)instead of the lively and inspiring Masses with music that is concert-worthy yet totally congregational in participation from the Newman Center at UK or the Cathedral. I don’t understand.

I went to my interview at Barnes and Noble. Part time, $7 an hour, no benefits, but in the children’s dept. Don’t know how I did–I’m not used to interviewing. Then a Mexican sampler with KK before she headed back to G-town, a quick stop at Meijer (man, do I love their produce–great strawberries–2 quarts for less that $3), and back to KR. I kept thinking of the song they sang for Communion at Mass–it fits my life right now, as did the Good Shepherd Gospel:

Jesus My Everything by Matt Maher

I’ve been looking for a reason, I’ve been longing for a purpose

I’m losing all my meaning, I’ve run out of excuses

Lord, it’s hard to know you, I don’t always see your plan

But holiness is calling me so take me as I am

Cause you are my everything, you are the song I sing: I’d do anything for you.

Teach me how to pray, to live a life of grace, I’ll go anywhere with you

Jesus, be my everything.

Some Sundays I just stay at home at Kelley Ridge. Since I’ve already been to church on Saturday evening, I stay there and do things and listen to Mass on the radio. The readings are the same, but it’s good to hear them twice. Sometimes the homilies are better on the radio. There is a deacon who preaches at St. Luke’s in Nicholasville who is pretty interesting. Then there is the rosary and in between decades a lady sings who sounds like Carly Simon, but I know she isn’t. I also listen to Bob Edwards and his interviews (at 7 a.m.). Bob Edwards knows how to interview. Scott Simon knows how to write. Everyone should read his weekly essays (Saturday Morning Edition). I would marry him but he’s already married and Mormon.

Breakfast with the Groupies at Cracker Barrel.

Visit with Alyx at 4th Street where she told me she is moving back to the Keep. I’ll miss her.

Clean-up of porch at 4th St.

Help middle school parents with yard sale–leftovers went to Cabrini Closet, our thrift store.

Watch the Derby. Exciting finish. Not as exciting as being with my two youngest brothers and their brides at Keeneland for the first time in my life.

Go to see FIDDLER ON THE ROOF at the Rose Barn Theatre, Madison County’s first real community theatre setting–in an old tobacco barn at Battlefield Park, but hey, who’s complaining? It’s a little chilly. Get to see my colleague and my student perform. Reminisce with Sarah and Rusty about Ian being Lazar Wolfe and Brendan being the Constable and Aaron being Perchik and dear, dear Alycia.

KK and I stay at Sharon’s and I can’t sleep so I blog.

There is an artist named Charley Harper who is 83. He’s from Cincinnati and he created an awesome poster of birds for Cornell’s ornithology department. I must have it.

Well, not actually from Owatonna. They were coming through from Florida on their way to Iowa and then to Minnesota last night, but to me they will always be from Owatonna. My Thanksgivings spent on Linn Drive with Nancy and her family are still fresh with smells and sounds and cold. Now she is retired (jealousy like bile coming up my throat), still maintains her home in Clinton, has her own personal assistant small business, and can spend time with Mor-mor (her mom) as she wishes. Mombo drove in to Kelley Ridge and we met her there. They looked over my progress on finishing things. Mor-mor is never hesitant to give me her advice, which I welcome. “Sell everything and build your home in the Valley.” Nancy–“Maybe it’s not quite time yet” meaning “Maybe you’re not quite ready yet.” Then we ate at Woody’s and had the dining room to ourselves so that we could converse in peace without blaring music. A quick look at 4th Street, dropped them off at the Hampton, and back to KR. I needed a mental health day to collect my thoughts. So I took today off, Mom and I came back to Richmond to have breakfast before Nancy and Mor-mor left, went to Penney’s to buy Mom a top for mother’s Day, worked on job applications on Sharon’s high speed internet connection, then back to KR. I saw Mom off and realized that I need to spend more time with her. She is my energizer bunny.

Twenty-five years ago today I was in agony. The ob. nurse had to get on top of me and help me push the baby out because I was so exhausted after 24 hours of labor. I was glad Dr. Roach told her to do that–he didn’t want to do surgery. He was tired–he had been at the Derby. Dr. Fisher, my mentor, was still in Louisville. Wayne was as exhausted as I was, being the faithful, empathetic coach. Everyone always says it was worth it. No, it wasn’t worth it–rather I was and still am unworthy of it. The existence of my first son is a blessing so undeserved, so tremendously unearned, purely God-given gift. He delighted me from that first moment and continues to do so. I had and continue to have, through him, one of my reasons to be.

There is an author named Molly O’Neill who writes cookbooks. I guess I’m weird, but I like to read cookbooks. But that is not what I want to read by Molly O’Neill. First of all, I can’t think of a better name than Molly O’Neill. Then I found out that she is Paul O’Neill’s sister. Yes, baseball Paul O’Neill, and she has written a book about growing up in Ohio with five brothers and baseball. It’s called MOSTLY TRUE. I must read this book. She was compelled to write away from Manhattan in her upstate NY 1802 row house. She re-did the house as she wrote and somewhat subconsciously recreated the house she grew up in as she wrote the book. She wrote during the day and renovated at night. Energy. Ian is happy that the Reds are in first. I am happy that Ian is happy.

I’m forgetting how to do this, so I guess that means I need to start again. So I will make it a priority along with varnishing the living room floor at Kelley Ridge, putting scrounged decorative rock around the outside of the house at K.R., applying for jobs, and sleeping.

Whose mouse are you?

Nobody’s mouse.

Where is your mother?

Inside the cat.

Where is your father?

Caught in a trap.

Where is your sister?

Far from home.

Where is your brother?

I have none.

What will you do?

Shake my mother from the cat.

Free my father from the trap.

Find my sister and bring her home.

Wish for a brother as I have none.

Now whose mouse are you?

My mother’s mouse–she loves me so.

My father’s mouse from head to toe.

My sister’s mouse–she loves me, too.

My brother’s mouse–

Your BROTHER’S mouse?

My brother’s mouse–he’s brand new.

Thanks Robert Kraus.