How did you happen to form a ukulele trio?
It all began when we would wait outside of the preschool classroom coveting each others' corduroy jackets, knowing we should be friends but suffering from the kind of social anxiety that most closet songwriter/poets/moms suffer from. I mean, we're used to talking to ourselves, to our children, and to the freshest pieces of fruit at the grocery store.
But somehow, because I was too late to enroll Nora in preschool at St. John's and because I happened to see a notice in my church bulletin about the preschool at St. Paul's in Utica looking for students...because God knew we'd get over our shyness, I went from being a very lonely woman living in the middle of a corn field, isolated and searching for support to finding myself surrounded by friends--golden friends. Cry at the kitchen table friends. Leave stuff on your doorstep friends. Praying for and with you friends.
(If you'd like to sample some of the songs we played last night at the Sweet Talk Radio gig, check out my facebook wall.) And just so you know, STR was amazing and funny and nice. Check them out.
What's your minivan doing in the ditch?
I believe that before it began to snow, someone moved the driveway and this is why I overshot the entrance by 5 feet. Actually, it was better than the alternative, which would have been to stay in my lane and let the guy who wanted to ride in my trunk even though I had my turn signal on a good 1/2 mile before the turn find out why you shouldn't ride someone's bumper in the middle of a snowstorm, so I moved over into the other lane when I realized I wasn't going to be able to slow down enough to make the turn without ending up with Mr. Car Behind Me Guy owing me a new bumper, and drove (quite gently and calmly) into the ditch rather than risking a pile up. The guy behind me didn't stop. Lynn helped me get the car out with the tractor and the kind of driving I usually only see in a demolition derby. Maybe I've underestimated the power of the minivan.
What do you need right now?
Time to write long letters, read long books, write journal entries and poems, design classes, and take naps. Time to bake over 50 dozen Christmas cookies with Nora and watch bad movies with my mom. Time to be still, like today standing in the middle of the orchard with a suitcase in one hand, a ukulele over my shoulder, Nora's hand in mine, ditching the minivan and walking into a warm house. When you can't move something yourself, it does no good to worry about it. Just say a prayer, and let it go until it's moved. And it will be moved.