Sometimes there are just too many bodies in the pool. Not in the physical sense. I mean in the surreal sense. If I ever felt completely and utterly alone, this blog would be called “Welcome to the Oasis”. Let me explain.
Ms. Business and I worked on the Nook yesterday. Trash day
is Monday, and because the weeks are about to get eaten up with All Things Work Related, I decided that it was time to rip out the 46 year old rug that’s
graced the floor. Maybe covered is a better choice – there was no grace left in
this animal once called a carpet. There had to be at least five pounds of dirt underneath when we
flipped the sections to roll, which was the grossest thing I’ve ever seen. And
I’ve seen gross. During a Saturday art class I took when I was sixteen, we went on a
field trip to the labs at the University of Pittsburgh to see a body our
instructor was drawing. Yup. You read that correctly. A dead body. She unzipped the body bag, picked up a piece of
skin at the base of the abdomen, and said, “This is the chest cavity.” Four of
us leaned in for a better look. Everyone else blanched. Ah, but I digress. The point is, I’ve seen gross, and
the worst was on the floor of the Nook. Needless to say, there were several hours of
cleanup involving a broom, a swifter wet mop, and a regular mop. I’m happy to
say the room is now ready for the painter. I was physically exhausted, and quite glad
I hadn’t gone to the gym that morning, because the room would probably not be
ready!
Around 10:30 last night, after reading a little more of an
essay by J.R.R. Tolkien (research), my eyelids drooping, I crawled into bed and
happily snuggled deep into the mattress, wrapping up in the fleecy blanket. At
4:00 a.m. my little eyes popped open amidst the noise. The house was quiet
– except for Moink, who was just going to bed. (He has his nights and days
mixed up, poor kid!) No, it was the voice in my head, that darned little
creative beast that keeps me wondering about the world and seeing it in an entirely new light.
I have a friend who has a name for hers – it’s Jane. Great
name for the voice. I don’t know what to name mine, and of course, she often brings a friend or two. No, I’m not schizophrenic. I’m creative. We hear voices.
Sometimes we listen to them; sometimes we write what they say. Well, my little
muse was practically hopping up and down. “Wake up! Wake up! We should look for a big one.”
“A big one what?” She's so annoying in the middle of the night.
“Window. You know, with lots of panes so we can etch them.”
“Window. You know, with lots of panes so we can etch them.”
“We’ve never etched on glass.”
“Isn’t that what YouTube is for?”
I sighed and rolled over. “Go back to sleep.”
She poked me. “Let’s go look. You have to go to the
bathroom, anyway.”
She was right. I did have to use the bathroom. I slid out of
bed, put on my flip flops and bathrobe, and hit the bathroom. She turned on the
light. Damn her! I’d never be able to go back to bed now. “Happy?” I muttered.
“Yup."
One of the other un-named voices chimed in, the one that's the most practical and logical, and definitely not my true voice. "Hey, you need to rethink the menu for this week. Let’s
do the chicken and Spanakopita tonight. You’ll have to get the stuff out of the
freezer.”
We did that. It’s now 5:00 a.m., and we’re sitting at the
dining room table going through yesterday’s mail and rethinking the menu. There
is now a small shopping list that will need to be attended to later. I put down the pen. “We should
go back to bed now.”
“Let's go look at YouTube for how to etch glass. Hey, think Jane is up?”
I glanced out the front window across the street. Her house
was completely dark, as it should be at five o’clock on a Sunday morning. “No.
We’ll talk to her about it later this week.” Jane is an expert in all things
glass in the art world. No doubt she would be thrilled to talk to me about
this, but not right now. We turned on YouTube and set about watching several l-o-o-o-o-ng
videos on this process. I’m no expert yet by any means, but I feel that this is
something my muse and I can tackle.
It was now 7:00 a.m., and I was feeling ready to make
friends with my mattress again. Another video on some unrelated craft started,
and that little voice cried out excitedly. I closed the laptop and muttered
“Not now,” and sent her back to bed.
But, just as we were in the process of snuggling back into
the warmth of the bed, all the while trying not to awaken DH, she whispered,
“We should start sketching what we want to put on those panes.” I pushed her
out of the bed and closed my eyes. Not yet, not until I’ve had some coffee, and
a few more hours of sleep.
So, when you ask how my summer was, I’m going to answer that
it was wonderful and relaxing. I got to spend precious time with my family. I
got some things done around the pool that have needed to be attended to for
years. And my creative juices have started flowing again. My little muse is awake and ready to play. Am I sorry to be
going back to long days in the classroom? No, because I enjoy the creativity of
children, and being part of that process.
But I will miss getting up to gentle
sunlight filtering in where the blind doesn’t quite cover the window. (Like many, I
get up in the dark during the school year). I will miss sitting on the back
patio in the middle of the day or on a cool morning, drinking coffee and listening to the song birds that live in our backyard. And going
to the bathroom when I want, not solely relying on the minute and a half
provided between classes. Yet, summer will call again next year, and we will
once again enjoy the blue skies and sunny days, even the stormy days, with the
leisure accredited to her name.
Until then, the Stress Pool will still be up and running, and a
little more true to its name. If you have some time to spare, come on down to
the pool, and bring your voices. The more the merrier!
