April showers bring May phlegm?
I’ve been sick twice lately. Very out of character. I’m done with it! Is the planet slowly but surely trying to do us humans in? I wouldn’t blame it. Our cast of SpongeBob is dropping like congested flies. It’s a mask fest at rehearsal. There is an upside, in my opinion. A sense of insularity that I love when I wear a mask; I tiptoe into rehearsal masked up. I’m wearing a baseball cap. I feel as though I’m barely there. Am I there at all? It’s the strangest and most wonderful feeling to work onstage and take away the part where you “put it out there.” I’m leaving it all “in here” for now, and by in here, I mean it’s for me. Wow. Cool. I might always mask up right before tech.
Blow Gabriel, blow
Now, the last vestiges of this sick are being blown away. Literally. I did not know there was so much moisture that could leave my body via my nose, transported by Kleenex. Kleenex is at a premium at The Playhouse at the moment.
These boots were made for walking
I don’t remember if I’ve mentioned this dream of mine; to complete a walking journey across all — or part of — the United States. Important piece? I don’t want to sleep in a tent. I have other ideas. So, it’s tech week and I decided that it would be a good idea to test out a “long walk.” I felt healthy enough and thought some fresh air would do me good, so off I went. I love to walk and run lines and music outside. Years ago, I was interviewed and shared that if one finds themselves on The Springwater Trail and hears someone running along, singing, and talking to themselves, it’s likely me. I tested my walking-while-singing powers on my way to the post office in Boring, Oregon; it’s approximately five miles out and five miles back from my house in Damascus. Yes, there is a Boring PO. Before I moved to Gresham, (I’m going to date myself) the mayor of Boring guested on Late Night with Johnny Carson. I told my future husband I would NOT be living in Boring. I wouldn’t mind now, it’s a great town! Sister city? Dull, Scotland. Yes, there’s a parade in the Summer — kilts, bagpipes, and all. But I digress.
My walk
I started out walking down 242nd; not a route I’d recommend, folks drive very fast and there’s no sidewalk. On the other hand, there are some terrific sights and sounds. In between the sounds of cars whizzing past, My Merlin, the best bird app, (I adore it), clocked the sounds of Red-wing Blackbirds, Brown-headed Cowbirds, Common Yellowthroats and Tree Swallows. I met a herd of sheep. They saw me coming and trotted over with their little lambs bleating away. I had a nice chat with the woman who runs the Thompson Farms fruit and vegetable stand and stopped for breakfast at The Red Apple Restaurant. I took the Springwater Trail a lot of the way back, after I chatted with my favorite postal worker, Kristy and dropped a birthday present in the mail. It was a smashing success. Lines and lyrics spoken, birds, seen and heard, humans chatted with, and Save Democracy signs savored. My next walk is planned to Everett House. Springwater Trail, here I come.
A hypothesis
As I come into the last chapter of my life — those words don’t seem to be possibly true, but they are — I wonder. What do I want to do with my life? A walking tour is of interest, with an artful component. Go a little Yoko Ono with myself. Test out whether my actions are toward the good, toward understanding myself and toward being more peaceful. And whether they are, indeed for the benefit of all beings everywhere.
Are you there? In your last chapter? What are you thinking about doing?