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Ah, weekends. Even though I work for myself at home (usually in my pajamas), I still like to make an energetic distinction between weekdays and weekends. One way that comes out is just relaxing my morning routine a bit on Saturday and Sunday morning.
Instead of going through my usual routine, which gets me to work in my studio by 9:00am, sometimes I lounge and read. Sometimes I listen to the radio.
It’s nice to just let myself ramble a bit.
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When my parents go out of town, we dog-sit for their German Shepherd, Chloe. She sheds a lot, and harries our cat, Nika, but she’s the best vacuum ever.
She also makes the most wonderful expressions. There’s her goofy look, her eager-to-play-with-the-cat look, and her concerned look.
My favorite, though, is when she tilts her head to one side, trying to figure out just what in the heck is going on.
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During my divorce in 1999, I moved into a little one-bedroom apartment that was a few blocks away from the Quaker meeting house, where my synagogue held Friday night Shabbat services once a month. For about a year, on that last Friday of the month, I’d invite a few girlfriends over, and we’d eat a simple meal, chat and laugh, before walking the ten minutes to the Quaker meeting house, where I would lead services.
It was a rough year in many ways, but those conversations over Shabbat dinner were points of light. Just thinking about them makes me smile.
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The first performance I can remember was in kindergarten, when the whole class took over the multi-purpose room one afternoon to put on a circus for an audience of parents and older kids.
We rehearsed it for weeks. Deanne was the ringmaster. Andrea, Laura and Mandy were ponies. Brian was an acrobat. Jill a lion-tamer and Scott the lion.
In one of our rehearsals, Carla and I improvised a clown scene in which we kept stealing a lollipop from each other, which Mrs. Chong liked so much that she bought us an enormous lollipop to use in the show. I think the lollipop part was as big as my head.
Some of us played two roles, though, and in addition to being a lollipop-stealing clown, I was one of a rookery of seals (read: maybe three, total). We painted cardboard masks and taped a red balloon to the “nose” — our balancing ball.
We had it easier than real seals, because our ball never fell down. It also wasn’t round, but I guess it was close enough to get the point across.
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Field trips in kindergarten. A gaggle of doddling children with pudgy cheeks, small hands clutching a rope with little loops tied into it. “Hold onto your handle, everyone,” the teacher calls, turning around to make sure nobody has wandered off. “We’re crossing the street now!”
A clever way to keep a class of 4- and 5-year-olds together, but still, that was one brave teacher, if you ask me.
