and a magical day it was...5/4/99 Oh, where do I start? The beginning? I had a flat tire today! No, don't wince! It was great! I was having a great day. I woke up to my cat, purring like crazy and kneading my chest. How can I possibly be angry when she's so cute? Lazed a bit, checked my e-mail, got a gift certificate in the mail from my favorite clothing store. Sweet! and a coupon for a free pair of panties, which means I'll score an extra day before having to do laundry. This is perfect timing--I need professional clothes for my temp job, and John's told me to bring something nice to Milwaukee for a dinner thing, so I'm itching to shop. Unusual for me. I pulled on my velvet rainbow hippie skirt and a t-shirt, grabbed the certificates, and as I grabbed my keys I found my missing carpal tunnel braces; for some reason they were sitting on the microwave. Whatever, I was happy to see them. As I clomped to the door in my favorite platform sandals, I thought, "This is going to be a lucky day." And right then I twisted my ankle and plummeted. I was fine, see. And I laughed aloud!--jinxed myself and already I've been punished. I got in the car and headed down the alley toward the street. Something's grinding...oh, yeah, that one tire was low.... Stuck my head out the window to check and oh, yeah...uhh...fuck.... Stared ahead for a sec, then threw the car in reverse and backed up the 30 feet to my carport. Got out. Stared. I called Brian to let him know I'd be unable to drive to teach today, then I called John and told him to call me and tell me how to change the tire. Look. I've watched it being done, I've helped. But I've never done it all by myself. I poked around in the trunk until I found the jack. Sat on the steps for a good 5 minutes trying to figure out how to work the damn thing. "This fits here, but nothing happens...that thingy turns but then where does this go?" That sort of thing. I got it! I worked the jack. I remembered all of these "you must do this!" stories and I remembered to set the parking brake and put the jack under the frame. I had a hell of a time getting the lugnuts off--just imagine a chick in Fakenstocks and baggy khaki pants (I changed out of the skirt) bouncing/jumping up and down on a tire iron, braced against the roof of the car--you get the idea. I remembered to do the lugnuts in the special order, not in a circle. God, I was good. I changed the whole thing by myself. When I was done--spent tire leaning against the carport, shiny new spare on the Escort--I called John's voice mail again. "Hey, sweetie? Don't bother calling. I did it mySelf." I was so proud. I wore my greasy, schmutzy khakis for the rest of the day. And then! (God, what a great day.) I saw Marty. I love Marty. Everybody loves Marty. Marty's a tuba player, retired from the Navy Band, living in East Lansing now with his wife, who's the professor of percussion at MSU. He also teaches at Penn State. Marty's the favorite at tuba/euph conferences--always in the center of a crowd of students, military players, teachers, what a sweetie. I love Marty. He'd come to the school for a bit of business, we talked about John and, well, stuff. Marty's the second person who's noticed that I've lost weight...must be because I hadn't seen him in a while. Only one other person has mentioned it. I was just venting to John last night that 40 pounds must not be that noticeable. Had a bit of trouble finding Brian to drive out and teach, but we eventually ran into each other and got going. Teaching was uneventful. I started to think while I was mid-lesson, wondering what my old teachers would say if they could see me teaching. Would they approve? My methods are the same, my techniques are copped from all of my teachers, but my attitude and demeanor with the kids is totally different. Well, I think my current teacher has a similar relationship with me. We're friends (at least, I think so.) That's not to say my other teachers weren't my friends, they just had a more teacher-student thing going on. I try to be a friend to my students. I always wanted an older friend to talk to when I was in junior high/high school. I get down into their lives. I encourage them to talk to me about non-music things. Maybe we do spend part of the lesson chatting--why is that bad? They trust me, and I know plenty of things that their parents don't know. So far, nothing has been big enough for me to betray confidences. I'm not even sure what it would take for me to side with a parent over one of my kids. The kids who study music are usually not the ones who make good on their hit lists.
I'm babbling.
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