I'm up early.
I went to be bed pretty early, like nine o'clock...what's that for my Europe friends, twenty-one hours.
I woke up at three because my left arm has a pulled muscle that is throbbing.
How the heck did that happen? I don't remember doing anything in particular.
It could be that Tobi the gorilla child is getting so heavy and I keep carrying him around anyway.
Or it could be that when I stand up to pedal up big hills on my cruiser bicycle which is not intended for standing on the pedals, it sort of torques my upper arms.
Or it's from the gardening.
Yesterday I was pruning small scrub trees that I'm trying to train to grow against the fence like espaliered fruit trees, why exactly I don't know, just mostly because they're there and instead of ruthlessly chopping them to the ground and having to deal with their annoying root bases, I'm letting them live as long as they try to look as fancy as possible for me.
I am the warrior queen and the pruning sheers are my sword in Rob's big backyard.
Have you ever known that some people see you exactly for who you really are?
How do some people do that for some certain other people?
It's like they've been previously recognized in another realm in another life.
I've been lucky to have a few people read me right in my life.
Recently a steadfast and deeply trusted friend invited me to her porch for drinks.
We sat far apart and we relished some one on one conversation.
She has worked in music and she knows the score much of the time.
At one point she said to me that I have some very loyal fans.
I said I'm well aware of that and I love those people so much.
She said she's aware of them from looking at my blog and my social media pages.
We talked about how they're all in different places, scattered around the US and Europe, and beyond...Tokyo, Kiev, Brisbane.
She commented, "Not everybody gets you, but the ones who do really do."
Boy, am I lucky.
How have I gotten so lucky?
To be understood beyond what one can do about it, that's a miracle.
I endeavor to be understood every day of my life.
Being understood has been a massive desire, a quest, a life long elusive pursuit.
I have tried so hard to be understood.
Most of the people I picked out to explain myself to didn't want what I was offering.
They didn't get me, didn't want to, didn't give a shit, whatever.
I banged on their doors.
I begged, I gave them my best song and dance routine.
They just stared, silent, then shrugged, then turned away.
I would run after those people and beg them to stay longer, give me another chance.
Those people were never going to get me.
What does it take, fifteen seconds?
I don't like that, I like that, I love that.
You can do it, I can do it, we can all do it.
You walk into your favorite small cafe.
You see they have live music set up.
You wait to see who is going to perform.
The performer takes to the microphone.
You are waiting, paused, holding your breath.
Should you go ahead and buy a glass of wine, or are you leaving?
The person begins with their guitar, then their words and their voice and their singing.
You are out of there.
Or, you buy the glass of wine, you stay, you fall in love, your soul is opened, you buy a second glass and stay for the second set.
What made you stay?
The je ne sais quoi, the I-don't know-what.
The something that ignites, the something familiar made fresh and new.
When I get to be that for someone, as a performer, I am thrilled.
Truly, it thrills me.
I'm lucky and I'm not taking this lightly now.
I'm writing songs every day.
Parts of songs and whole songs, every day.
Any minute now I gotta quit generating material and hammer it all into place.
Yesterday, that's when that should have happened.
But today is good too.
I already wrote about making love in a boat house on a private island in an undisclosed location on a northern lake...this morning.
I don't know whether that bit of lyricism is going to make the new album but I kind of hope it does.
We need something sexy right about now.
Once when I was a young mother with two baby girls in my double stroller, I stopped in at the hospital to visit their doctor father on his break.
The head surgeon my husband was working with was an older guy from the South somewhere, with a military aspect and a strong Southern accent.
I said a quick hello and then said I better get the girls home for their naps.
The surgeon replied, "That's right Courtney. You get on home. Get the dinner in the oven and put something sexy on."
I laughed all the way home about him saying that to me.
I realized it was the furthest thing from my mind, putting something sexy on, was The Furthest Thing from my mind.
Well, come on guys and gals, let's not let that happen to ourselves.
Put on your red dress and shake that fine ass of yours, and do it now, because life is short and we ain't getting any younger.
Love, Joy, and Daily Delights.
That's what we have.
Don't let those butterflies flit past without your noticing.