It’s been a billion years since I last posted, and so for all six of you paying attention, I apologize.
I feel I have a good excuse, though: We’re buying a house. I have been advised it is not all like giving birth. You do not forget the agony of delivery the moment your eyes rest upon its shuttered windows. Rather, you enter a special kind of plain where HGTV is the only station your TV picks up and you discover a hereto unexplored fascination with gutter guards. I hate HGTV. Gutters are ok.
But that’s not what I’ve come to bother you about. I’ve crawled out from under paperwork and packing boxes to marvel at the fantastic acoustics of our empty little rental house!
Oh my word…the exhilaration…the exultation of pounding the mess out of my mandolin and singing for all my might! Overused hardwood floors, barren white walls, cat fur dust bunnies tumbling along the baseboards–it’s the best stage I’ve ever performed on. Empty and full of echoes. Rain coming down on this rotting roof and soaking the air, making the notes all the sweeter and easier to hold. Callouses sliding across the strings like pressing the whetstone to the knife…
I am so glad I took the week off to pack. It gives me this glorious goodbye to my love/hate home of three years. You know that “old Irish blessing” about the wind at your back? I’ve come up with a new one: “May your house always know music and your acoustics be complementary.” You can quote me on that one. 😉