Pink and Green
I recently received some very happy news. I’m finally going to be a grandmother! Or as we say in North American French, a Memere (pronounced more-or-less MEH-may), which I’m told in the Continental version of French refers to any overweight elderly woman. Yikes! Neither of those fit me. My wife, not being French, has rightly claimed the Grammy/Nanna appellation for herself. That’s OK. I had Memeres, and so it’s only right and proper that I should also be one. Not that it really matters, but given my druthers I’m hoping for a little “sugar and spice and everything nice.” I already did the “snakes and snails, and puppy dog tails.”
Of course, every Yin has its Yang and the course of life is no different. I had a personal issue that put me out of commission for a while. During that time not much got done, and our heroines faded into the background. Once the issue finished wreaking its havoc, and spring had sprung, in my head if not outside, I could welcome them back.
I’ve felt a sense of rejuvenation for the last week or so. That’s at least in part thanks to the longer days and higher angle of the sun in the sky. I’m taking two to three hours every evening to write. That translates to about two pages. Obviously, every two pages will be whittled down to one later in the process. Right now, I’m giving my brain free rein to go where it wants. Trimming is what editing and reworking is all about.
I’m in the crucial middle part of the chapter, its heart. Viewed superficially, it’s simple and straightforward. But as with anything, the devil is in the details. The surface might seem placid, but like the North Atlantic in winter, it’s what’s going on beneath the surface that really matters, regardless of how tumultuous or calm the façade might be.
I find that Laci is growing up fast. I’ve always known there was a very gifted and caring soul tucked away inside her, carefully safeguarded in case the opportunity to blossom ever came. What surprises me a little is just how desperate that beautiful flower was to reach for the sun. I’d hate for her to come across as a flawless paragon of virtue. She’s not – not even close. I’m not sure yet how to rein in her niceness, at least in the short-term, though I foresee her getting into some trouble of her own making a little further on. That, of course, is hardly a given since I never know for sure where things are going until I get there. For the time being, I’m content to let the flower unfurl and shine.
This past weekend, my wife and I had reason to get all dolled up in heels and dresses, something I enjoy when the opportunity presents itself. What woman doesn’t enjoy being attractive? The occasion was a performance of Bach’s Mass in B Minor. It’s an incredibly beautiful work considered by many to be the finest composition in Western music. I can understand why that argument has merit, but in my view, that honor will always go to Beethoven’s 9th Symphony.
The Bach composition is a full Latin Catholic Mass set to music and choir. It’s a bit curious because while sacred music made up most his music, Bach was a Lutheran. From what I understand, it’s unclear why he chose the Catholic Mass as the framework for his final and finest composition. Geniuses can never be taken for granted; they exist on a different plane.
For those who enjoy Classical music but have never listened to it, it’s well worth the hour and half or so it demands of your time. There are several outstanding performances readily available on YouTube. It’s now on my Classical music playlist.
We enjoyed our date night immensely, from getting dressed to getting undressed (and more). The performance was very, good especially considering the symphony and choir are amateurs – it’s very technically difficult to play and sing. Nope. No complaints.