Captain's Log #19 - Universe, what are you trying to tell me?

10/7/17

Stalked by the Sleeping Lion

At the Ukulele play-in last weekend the lead singer wore a microphone and was flanked by 12 ukulele players/singers, everyone  sitting on folding chairs with music stands. In addition there must have been a good 15+ other musician/singers in the audience with song books and music stands. All of the 60-odd people in the room were playing or singing, or both.

One song was The Lion Sleeps tonight, originally released in 1961 by The Tokens and featured in the movie The Lion King. The chorus is “A-weema-weh, a-weema-weh, a-weema-weh, a-weema-weh,” on top of that is a soaring, higher-pitched solo, very striking and the heart of the song. The lead singer couldn’t manage those high notes and nobody, that I could hear, picked up that solo. Then, from some unknown place in me emanated a loud, strong contralto that filled the room with sound.

Later that week I was in the outpatient procedure room with Dr. Mueed Ahmad, a second generation Pakistani, a nice young man. While he was carving the basal cell carcinoma out of my forehead that song came on their office ‘Pandora’ (an internet radio service.) I was about to sing but was distracted by the sounds coming from his work on my face. It sounded like he was cutting a rusty bucket with a pen knife! I have yet to peek under the bandage. There should be a 3” scar, it now lifts my right eyebrow half an inch, a budget eyelid tuck. That song kept me from flipping out. Then when I came home and cranked up another Grey’s Anatomy episode it was titled The Lion Sleeps Tonight. OK Universe, I’m listening, just what are you trying to tell me?

I’ll Have What She’s Having

The pre-operative instructions stated that even though this is a minor surgery you might want to have someone drive you home, but I couldn’t be bothered organizing that. I really shouldn’t have been driving, the Lidocaine interferes with cognitive ability. Since I was in Santa Rosa, the plan was to buy some shoes. I struggled to get from the hospital to The Walking Company in the Santa Rosa Plaza mall. I found a homeless encampment being broken up by police under an overpass, and the mall, which used to have free parking, now charges, and the ticket machine wasn’t working. I don’t think I’ve been in a mall since I accompanied my 16 year-old son, me walking 10 paces behind him, to buy him hair dye. Good lord it’s overstimulating! Looking here, looking there, I’m lucky I didn’t run into a supporting column and of course the store was at the far end.

Behind the counter was a little wisp of a young woman, 5 feet tall, very thin, hair midway down her back, the lower half of it blonde, the upper half dark brown. She had drawn her eyebrows very thick, almost coming to a unibrow, there were various piercings, and she was wearing skinny jeans. I noticed the jeans because she kneeled on the tile floor to help me put on shoes, I felt anxious for her knees. There wasn’t a stool in the shop. Obviously I didn’t know what I wanted so she said, “Why don’t I bring out some shoes and you can try them on.” One of the innovations at the store was a sensor pad you stand on that shows you how you distribute your weight on your feet, and what kind of arch you have. That got her going about their removable insoles, how some were included in the cost of the shoe, some were not, some could be mixed and matched and some were expensive ($80/pair.) I refrained from saying, “Look, money is no object here, my feet are the decision makers.” I asked her, what do nurses buy, and doctors, and waitresses? She took me right to those shoes; I tried some on. Finally, after worrying about her bony, little knees on that cold, hard floor, I asked her what she was wearing because she was on her feet all day. $200 later, I have what she’s having.

In other news, we can thank Kevin that I have time to write. The guy works three jobs! He works 6 hours, 5 days a week at the Developmental Center repositioning clients, then he drives to Marin to teach drum lessons and often he’ll have a music gig on top of that. And he frequently has gigs Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I worry about him, but he makes his own decisions. Anyway, when he’s not getting up early on the weekends to play a farmer’s market, he likes to sleep late; his beauty sleep he calls it. I try to keep quiet when, otherwise, the days he’s playing the markets, I’m up early banging around here doing chores, a genuine pleasure. So, thank you, Kevin, for this opportunity to write. (Hmm, maybe I should pull out that Blue Wing Inn book project…)

Lastly, I’ll report that the winter birds have arrived: chevrons of Canada Geese honking up and down the valley, Red-Shafted Flickers loudly ‘kewing’ from the tree tops, Golden Crowned Sparrows with their soft, descending whistles, Cedar Waxwings with their stylish, Zorro-like eye masks. Welcome back, everyone!

Thanks for hanging in there with me. I’d love to know what you’re up to. David, Sue, Rod, Kate, Phyllis and Lin Marie thanks for touching base!

Until next time, many blessings,

Karla, k.j. and mom

P.S. Don’t hesitate to let me know if you’d like to be removed from the distribution list.