Have you ever noticed...

At the dentist's office, butterflies fly upside-down. I suppose this is an attempt to display the prettier (up)side to the patient, who is down. I find it disturbing. No butterfly goes around all day upside-down. I think it's probably impossible, certainly inadvisable. It sort of gives you a feeling of vertigo, as though you are looking down at them when all other sensations are certain that you are looking up.

Yeah, it's been one of those weeks. Stay tuned for a more in-depth post, where I examine the relationships of perfectionism, failure, despair, and Lutheranism. You might notice a new link in my "other blogs" section; Bluegrass Lutherans is a blogsite operated by the pastor of the Lutheran church where I am now the pianist. I haven't gone entirely Lutheran yet, but I'm exploring. There's something that frightens me about committing to a denomination. It's sort of like committing to a political party -- am I still stuck, even when I disagree with them? If so, I'd rather be independent and non-denominational!

I think my soul is sunburnt

It might be rewarding to say only that much and make you all guess what on earth I mean. I'll eliminate a few possibilities for you. My nose is not pink, and I haven't even had much time outside since Sunday. Even when I was in New Mexico with R., I didn't spend nearly as much time outside as we often do. No aloe necessary this summer. Sunburnt is just the best word I could think of for that dry, exhausted feeling.

Have you ever spent all day out on a lake with no sunglasses? You get that pleasant feeling of well-baked weariness. Your eyes are tired, your skin is dry (and possibly burnt, depending on your complexion), your arms may be sore from rowing. You may have some new mosquito bites on your legs. And you go to the screened-in porch for supper, as a slow hunger creeps up on you. You watch the sun set, the fireflies come out. You hear the whippoorwill. The bats begin their eerie, silent dance. You want to go to bed, but you don't want to go to that much trouble. You feel supremely content.

This summer has been something else so far, no doubt about that. My inside is feeling like my outside spent the day on the lake. Happy, worn, and perhaps a little lethargic. Once again, my adventures fall into the category of not-to-be-blogged; you'll have to wait for the book. Really, there aren't that many specifics to tell -- like being on the lake, you just have to be there. I guess I've been absorbing a lot, rather like sunshine. Perhaps it's a good thing that I'm back at work for a small dose of reality before finishing out the Silverleaf season. I wouldn't want to end up with sunstroke, after all.

Potpourri, once more

I've had several lengthy philosophical entries rolling around in my head over the last several thousand miles, but I haven't had the chance to post them. So, I'm afraid they must be cobbled together haphazardly if they are ever to see the web. And that, surely, would be disaster! (Tongue firmly in cheek.)

1. You know the chap who said, "Parting is such sweet sorrow"? I don't think famous playwrights are always on the money -- he missed the mark with that one, I think. Nothing sweet about it. I had a lovely road trip with my mother to end June with pleasant adventures, including visiting with family and friends that I rarely have time to see. And never enough time to have my fill of. The problem with seeing people that you cherish is that you really don't want to leave. Sigh. This business of having bits of my heart attached to people so far-flung can be more than a little wearing.

2. I'm from Michigan. I know about busted waterpipes. They happen in the dead of winter, usually in the middle of the night when it's least convenient. Why, then, did I return to Kentucky after the road trip mentioned above to discover a broken waterpipe in my apartment? At least the lack of convenience was consistent -- I discovered this on Sunday, when it is most difficult to get help for this sort of thing. It was in my "office," which meant I spent the day moving four bookcases, a full filing cabinet, a computer, and a late-40's desk of extremely solid construction, along with less significant (read "heavy") incidentals. The access panel for the shut-off valve was located inaccessibly behind the water heater. Grumble, grumble, mutter, grumble. On the bright side, there was no damage done at all, except to my best-laid plans. And I finally had the impetus necessary to organize those bookcases, which I've been meaning to do since I moved. Nothing like a big mess and a fast-approaching deadline to finally get projects done!

3. Silverleaf season has begun with a bang! We had a hot opening weekend, in all possible ways, and I'm thrilled to be back at it. I was able to put in a few days planting, painting, and insulating beer chests (oddly reminiscent of coffins) and pop-carts; the site and the line-up is bigger and better than last year. Don't know why I enjoy sweating in garb in a ticket booth all day, but I do. I may be a little strange, now that I think about it.

4. Speaking of Ren Faires, I've been to more this season than I ever thought I would: Tennessee, Kentucky's "Highland Faire", and even the free one in Mancos, Colorado. And somehow, I always seem to find familiar faces, or at least friends of friends. Talk about your small town! It's almost frightening when a new acquaintance at Silverleaf knows that you made a new friend in Kentucky! Good thing I only hang out with the nice people...

I think that mostly brings you up-to-date. It may be a while before my next post, but it's not for lack of material! I'll try to continue the saga soon. :)