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Nighthawk of Sleet
Feb. 4th, 2018 09:08 pmIt snowed a lot in the night, and went right on snowing most of the day. It took us nearly an hour to shovel out the driveway and brush off the car so we could go to church. Looking out at the snow blowing in the wind, I was glad I hadn't planned to visit my mother this weekend. Very few people showed up for church. I was there early for rehearsal, but the other musicians didn't come until later, so I had time to help set up the sanctuary. It was kind of like old times, with only my friends the flutist and the oboeist--and of course our indispensable keyboard player! Eventually the bass player joined us. He was going to do a Black History Month presentation for the kids on jazz, but the children all stayed home because of the snow. We played some fun, cheerful African choruses. The music was pretty simple, and I felt I should have done better, even when I'd only played it a couple of times through for rehearsal. But the flutist said it sounded good, so I'll take her word for it.
We worked in the living room in the afternoon, with a warm fire in the fireplace, looking out the bay window at the snow. Now we're watching the Superbowl. The Sparrowhawk is rooting for the Patriots because he likes Tom Brady, but I'm loyal to Da Iggles today. I feel very conflicted about pro sports because of the concussions and horrible disregard of player welfare, and other issues. But I'm still watching. It's a good excuse to have cocktail shrimp and smoked salmon. Plus large, superhero-style men in spandex running very fast and crashing into things . . . . It's a nice distraction from talking to my mother, which was pretty crazy-making tonight. She sounded pretty sharp, but as I was hanging up, I heard her tell her helper, who had just come in, "I'm talking to my daughter on the phone--Paula." My name is not now, nor has it ever been Paula. Although Mother had a sister and now has a niece by that name. Oh well. She knows I'm someone she's related to and has good feelings about. Although she probably doesn't know that I used to worship Lyle Alzado like a scary god, or that "North Dallas Forty" is one of my favorite movies.
We worked in the living room in the afternoon, with a warm fire in the fireplace, looking out the bay window at the snow. Now we're watching the Superbowl. The Sparrowhawk is rooting for the Patriots because he likes Tom Brady, but I'm loyal to Da Iggles today. I feel very conflicted about pro sports because of the concussions and horrible disregard of player welfare, and other issues. But I'm still watching. It's a good excuse to have cocktail shrimp and smoked salmon. Plus large, superhero-style men in spandex running very fast and crashing into things . . . . It's a nice distraction from talking to my mother, which was pretty crazy-making tonight. She sounded pretty sharp, but as I was hanging up, I heard her tell her helper, who had just come in, "I'm talking to my daughter on the phone--Paula." My name is not now, nor has it ever been Paula. Although Mother had a sister and now has a niece by that name. Oh well. She knows I'm someone she's related to and has good feelings about. Although she probably doesn't know that I used to worship Lyle Alzado like a scary god, or that "North Dallas Forty" is one of my favorite movies.
