The Dance

Any joy or relief I used to find in music is temporarily on vacation. I can't enjoy music because every song and every artist evokes a memory. It's my own fault; I married a music man.

Of course, I enjoyed music long before I met him. But, when you are with a music man, it goes to new heights. You get absorbed in his knowledge. You associate songs (and especially lyrics) with happier times. You marvel at his mind and his talent. Happier times involve singing around the piano or dancing on the patio. You remember every concert, every dance, every quiet moment -- and what song was playing at the time.

My iPod hasn't been on in months. I have broken two nails jabbing the radio station buttons in the car. I turn it off but then the music in my head is worse than whatever they might play next.

I love country music and I thought I was safe with that. Unfortunately, they are playing Garth Brooks' "The Dance" a lot lately. This is a song the husband learned to play on the piano for me, even though he is not a fan of country music. It is sad and haunting. It is appropriate but we didn't know it at the time.

From The Dance:

And I, I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end, the way it all would go.
Our lives, are better left to chance.
I could've missed the pain
But I'd have had to miss the dance.

The Boys

I have lots of boys in my life. Okay, most of them are grown men but I think of them as "my boys." The top three are the husband, my father and the baby. Houseboy (a nickname he tolerates) is one of my boys. So are my uncles and many of my friends. They advise me and make me laugh.

Today I accompanied two of my boys to the doctor. By some fluke, they had back-to-back appointments. I was invited to one and barged my way into the second. Intrusive people know that they are annoying but we can't help ourselves. I need to hear the information first hand. I need to see the scans and have the doctor explain it to me like I'm a 5-year old.

I've got to keep my boys healthy. There are some surgeries in our future but they're relatively minor. When I dropped in on the husband's visit, he said, "Who invited you?" I planted myself in a chair.

Picking Up Men

Politeness and the teensiest bit of charm can open a lot of doors. I wish more people understood that.

My niece majored in theater so after we toured the husband's office, we decided to visit some of the theaters in town. They were all closed -- setting up for evening performances, etc. We talked our way into every one. One person went to the trouble of turning on all the lights so she could see the venue in its full glory.

It's May and in our city that means an obsession with the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. She mentioned that her father is a racing fan. Time was a little tight so I didn't see the point in paying to park, buying tickets, etc. to watch 5 minutes of practice. We thought we'd just run by the IMS and she could hear the racing engines and see the facility.

When I worked in the corporate world, I spent the entire month of May at the Speedway so I know my way around a bit.

We talked our way into a parking space. We talked our way through multiple people who wanted to see our tickets, our suite pass or credentials. We almost hit a dead end but through some luck and some fast talking, a very nice gentleman showed her the track from several vantage points. He even opened an empty suite for us so she could see the view from the balcony. (It doesn't hurt that she has a charming accent and legs like a gazelle.)

Her mother jokingly said, "Don't pick up any Yankee men." Hell, that's what we did all day. We weren't looking for dates; we were looking for access.

After a dinner where we ran into several other people I know, we headed off to one more stop. It was a private party but we crashed it so the niece could hear the husband's band. I warned her that we wouldn't know anyone. Turns out, we knew at least half the people there. We were once again surrounded by men.

We picked up one more man. He followed us home. We felt pretty safe since he lives here.