This page is...I've decided, where I get to spew and share my opinion.
I'll change it as often as my schedule allows and sometimes maybe, even sooner
depending on how I am feeling about "stuff".
I'll tell you now that it will rarely be about music or playing the
violin except for the
times when it is.
I invite you to spew and share as well. For an archive of my previous opinions, click here. Email email@example.com
Summer is rolling along...too quickly if you ask me. I have missed half of it already. By that I mean that feeling one has that it's well.... summertime.....a nd the livin is easy. When things slow down just a bit and you don't mind that it's scorchingly hot or that the city smells because you can just buy yourself a nice big ice cream cone, find a bench in the park and feel your biggest challenge at that moment is to finish your ice cream before it melts all over your clothes. When you sit at an outdoor café drinking your 8th iced coffee watching people go by and wondering to yourself why some women are still wearing panty hose in this weather.
Summertime is when you are supposed to feel lazy... isn't it? I mean I think God designed it that way... at least for New Yorkers. Who wants to work when it's 98 degrees and 100% humidity? I think we are not meant to work in the summer. And yet we do. Of course we do... we have to. Except for school teachers.
My mother was a school teacher and she worked harder than anyone I knew supporting the 5 of us on that meager salary but I'll tell ya... when summer time came... nobody was working in my house!
I have a Peter Pan complex about the summer because of this I think.
Little league games across the street, playing kickball til it got dark, trips to the closest amusement park, getting 3 dollars for mowing a neighbors lawn, those extremely cool multi-colored ice pops we would suck on while sitting on the curb discussing the latest Brady Bunch episode, begging so and so on our street if we could swim in their pool for a half hour and then wind up staying 6 hours or until our finger tips looked like raisins, tons and tons of scraped kness, the dreaded bath before you went to sleep (why can't you go to sleep dirty... where is it written?), the many, many wonderful barbecues, and even occasionally going to an outdoor concert where I would feel like God's favorite child just sitting there listening to Daphnis and Chloe or Finlandia.
Well I have worked every summer of my life since I turned 20... and I don't like it I tell ya. I am the one playing those outdoor concerts now and it's no fun. It's too darn hot, the instrument goes out of tune immediately, insects are feasting on you during the cadenza, you actually feel your make-up dripping down your face, and your fingerboard feels like someone poured molasses all over it. Not to mention the fact that I HAVE to wear panty hose!
I am complaining now...I know it. Behaving like a child and I shouldn't.
People still seem to really enjoy those concerts and when my part is through, I change my clothes and walk around the grounds and listen to the music. And I remember my youth and how much I loved being there and in a strange way I enjoy it even more than ever now because I worked for it.
I am blessed and I know it.
Who knows, maybe I am still God's favorite child... one of them anyway...
But what the hell do I know.
© 2001-2005 Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg