musings in mayhem

writer, mom, tutor, superwoman

a sprinkling, a spattering

Just a few random things, like snapshots, but not.

Sunday’s weather was gorgeous here, over 60.  Captain Comic entertained himself playing one of his made-up giant monsters, Ulmaragon, in the backyard for hours.  At one point, Grandma looked out the window and noticed he was beating an uprooted plant against the fence.  It was my hibiscus I planted last summer.  This would be the second hibiscus, as voles ate the roots of the first, killing it dead.  After Ulmaragon’s handiwork, there may be a third.  Honey said he managed to get it back in the ground okay.  But we’ll have to see come the really true spring. 

Speaking of spring, I awoke to birdsong this morning.  Well actually, I awoke to the bathroom light blasting through my eyelids, and the sound of racing sneaker shod footfall on the stairs, not sure which came first but each represented my sons’ awakening to  Monday morning.  Oh, and Toots mewled from her crib even before that, I think, and had joined us in bed.  But that’s just life with my kids.  But Birdsong,  yay!

Speaking of song, yesterday, though I shouldn’t have according to doctor’s orders, I went out and sang a solo at my UU church.  It was actually a big production number involving the whole chorus, a drummer, guitar and piano.  We were amplified.  If you’ve ever attended a UU service, the music is usually pretty subdued and on the folkie side, other than the hymns. 

Speaking of hymns, if you google Garrison Keillor and Silent Night, you’ll see an example of what a lot of people find disconcerting about UU.  We change lyrics on hymnal standards.  Sometimes a little, like in Silent Night.  Sometimes, it’s a complete lyric rewrite of an old hymn or other familiar tune by a classical composer.  Some people get really upset about it.  Some people don’t.  That second group tends to join us.  That first group includes Garrison Keillor, which I find ironic, as he is a big member of the folk tradition, through oral tales, and those folkies are changing traditional stories all the time!

I digress.  It’s bound to happen.  Just the kind of free thinker I am.  So, my solo was in the song Seasons of Love from the musical Rent!  It was fun.  I haven’t soloed intentionally since early in college, may have even been back in high school.  That’s a long time ago, folks.  Mr. Cynic said I sounded good.  And he hates the song.  Of course he hates the song, it’s about love and friendship, not gloom and doom. 

It was a good thing I had another post-op follow-up doctor appointment today, because I just didn’t feel right after overdoing things by singing the solo in both services.  Everthing checked out fine, but the doctor reiterated to me, do nothing for 8 weeks was his original protocol.  Yesterday was three weeks.  Bad, Cathy, Bad.  Well, he didn’t sat the bad cathy, part, that’s me.  I feel like Costello, no not Elvis Costello, the other guy, the heavy sweet  half of Abbott & Costello, when he says, “I’ve been a baaaaad boy.”  So innocent.  We both meant well.

But I love to sing, and singing felt good, so there.  I will go lie back down momentarily, too.  As soon as I finish this post.

Toots keeps me smiling.  I’m so glad we made a later in life decision to add to our family.  Yes, she’s a toddler, but as toddlers go, she is very easy going and happy.  I am lucky.  I am happy as a clam. 

One last thing for laughs:  Mr. Cynic likes to watch Iron Chef.  Saturday evening, as we watched an episode that involved a vat of 3 pounds of butter melting,  Mr. Cynic said, “That’s a lot of saturated fat!” 

Captain Comic, half paying attention, piped in “Exaggerated fat?!  What’s that?” 

I cracked up, but thought exactly! 

Otherwise, mostly these days, I am enjoying the Olympics.  Are you?

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2 thoughts on “a sprinkling, a spattering

  1. i love captain comic. and i love that you call your kids captain comic, mr cynic and toots. cracks me up every time i read it. πŸ™‚ take care of you and don't over do it!

  2. thanks, kelly…as long as you're laughing with me! πŸ˜‰

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