Am I happy? Where am I headed? What are my goals? What can I be grateful for? What can I do to improve anything that isn't making the grade? Who do I want to become, and am I on the road to being that adult? Should I pluck my eyebrows, or leave the little caterpillars alone? What about make-up? Am I just slacking off, or truly uninterested?

And, in this mode, I was reflecting on how mild our Chicago weather has been lately. Snowless and generally only hovering around freezing (Yay! Time for the polar bear plunge!). But, behold:

Tuesday
31° F | 25° F
Ice Pellets
90% chance of precipitation

Wednesday
31° F | 16° F
Chance of Snow
40% chance of precipitation

Ice Pellets? WTF? So much for enjoying not have to ice pick my car out in the early, bitter cold, pissed off, "I hate your guts, too!" mornings.

To furthermore elaborate on this foot-in-mouth problem, it seems to be contagious. Around 1 pm today, whilst I was teaching, after just a light dusting in the snow department, I was complaining to my student about how I was thinking this morning about how nice it has been to not have snow, only to have it start snowing immediately after the thought crossed my simple little mind. To this she says, "at least it's not so bad." But, oh ho, Linnea! We have ice pellets scheduled for this eve. Ice Pellets!

So, here's to a happy new year, and the hopes that you are all toasty warm in spite of ice pellets (ice pellets!) falling from the sky.

So, back to the post:

Tonight, at the Evanston Symphony Orchestra's Christmas Concert, we played music from Tchaik's Nutcracker Suite. There was a parade of young dancers on the stage in front of the orchestra, glittering in their tutus and jester leotards. They reminded me of my Grandma taking me to see the Nutcracker Ballet at Christmas time as a family tradition (and, wow, is on-stage a bad place for misty-eyed nostalgia). We went to the show when I visited her in Phoenix, and for years, I kept and treasured the tickets from those performances. I felt so much like a grown up when I went to the ballet, got dressed up, and had everyone treat me like the adult that I was certain that I was (at that ancient age of 8...). I even had my own rosy red nutcracker for years, before it, like the velveteen rabbit, went on to become Real.

As I watched the pomp and glitz on stage, I saw how many children were with us tonight, how many dancers had come to perform with us again this year, how many new dancers were on stage that we did not have last year, how many kids were in the audience with the families, and how many kids were backstage, waiting for their mommies and daddies to finish with the first half of the concert so that they could inhale intermission cookies. I was thinking about my student, Ben, who, when he was told that Santa and his elves would be at our Christmas concert, lit up the room with his glee. I was wondering if he made it there to see Santa. AND, what I realized was that there were hundreds of kids who were having that same annual tradition that centered around the Christmas holiday and the arts. Hundreds of them. All having their own Nutcracker with their parents, their grandparents, watching their aunts and uncles, and just generally feeling like the world is made of stardust for an evening.

As I was having my misty-teary moment, this dawned on me: This is what I really love about music, this is why I want to be a musician, this is why I want to go to grad school: because I went to the Nutcracker as a kid and it changed my life. So, thanks, Grandma. Love you. :)

PS. We played Leroy Anderson's Sleigh Ride. It has become one of my favorite Christmas songs EVER.

The second bit of good news is this:
http://dusting-in-pearls.blogspot.com/2008/11/sparkly-soft.html
I was quite happy to see such love from another artist. :)

Today I forgot my public transit credit card, and when I asked about the fare, I was given the "grade school and high school student" discount.

So, maybe 24 isn't as glamorous as I'd thought.

In other news, weather reports indicate that we should be watching for freaking snow flurries today. Last night, I checked in on the Phoenix weather for my upcoming visit, which is expected to range from a balmy 65 to an unbelievable 90+ while I'm there. The packing process has taught me that I can't quite understand what this means from my particular vantage point in frozen Chicago, as I kept setting aside sweatshirts, wool sweaters, and wool socks. Hopefully, I will meet with more success tonight as I try to repack with more tees and sandals, rather than the parkas and boots that I set aside yesterday...

This is it, kiddies. We're headed off to the Opera (for free!). We'll be sitting just behind the Mezzanine boxes, and I am thrilled at the excellence of our seats. :) Thank you, my unknown friend, who, though unable to attend, offered his tickets to my coworker. (And thank you to my coworker, who knew that this would make my life). :)

After we had a few chilly mornings, and, to be more realistic, after I survived biking to work through them, I made a goal for myself of biking until November. Now, with the swift change in hours of daylight, and with the swift change in the wetness of the road, I'm thinking that I won't be able to make it each day until November, but, after biking on a wet and chilly day like today, I realized a few things that may or may help me with this goal:

My brakes are worthless when their wet. I might as well drag my feet. (get some shoes with industrial soles?).

The helmet can only withstand about a 1/2 mile of rain before the water makes its way to my scalp. The visor on the helmet is a big freaking joke after 30 seconds of rain. (purchase shower cap, I am so jazzed about this idea).

While I have my back end covered by a basket, I have little protection for my legs and feet up front. (Get a fender).

My jacket is not waterproof.

But, thick winter gloves are excellent at keeping the water and cold out.

Cold water on one's ass, no matter the circumstances, is truly unfortunate.

Waiting for the rain to stop is like waiting for paint to dry. (Note: find some wet paint to watch dry instead. Much dryer).

Today, I had a hiatus just long enough to partially dry, catch a chill, and then have to face the sad, drippy music of getting back on the bike in the rain. I would have preferred just standing in the rain the whole time. (Plus, all I got for my drying time was a wet ass as soon as I got back on my bike - guess who forgot her plastic bag?)

Also, biking 9 miles ill-equipped in the rain, in my estimation, is roughly equivalent to being dropped fully clothed 30 ft. into a lake, and then being told to bike out.

On a happier note, when returning home from said journey, I came across another young woman on a bike. When we saw each other and realized the unnecessary, terrible ordeal that we were sharing, we both cracked up, and I'm pretty sure that no one who could see us missed our smiles or our laughter. It was fairly absurd to be on a bike today, and for whatever reason, seeing her made me realize that I am a complete nut job.

So, it's October 2. It's chilly here, barely over 60 during the day, and down in the mid- to low-forties at night. I've been doing my darndest to ride my bike to work in spite of the weather (long johns!), and to stay cozy when I can. We've gotten out our wedding quilt, and the tell-tale ominous non-rain dark clouds have moved in for that unpleasantly grey color that is so characteristic of Chicago (and Cleveland!) winters.

Our apartment has been getting colder and colder as this happens, and it only just occurred to us (and by us I mean Mendon) that because we have a new landlord, and now that our faithful servant Christine isn't around, and now that our landlord isn't living on the premises, that perhaps we need to call and request, pretty please, will you make it warm for us?

I did so this afternoon. By 3 pm their "guys" had left, but there was a shimmery promise that, though they would not be by today, that I would be called back so that I could know when the heat would be on. So, at 5, I call back, neglected and confused, to find that the office had been empty for an hour (you told me that your hours were until 5, not 4! You said you'd call!), and that there would be no returning of calls today.

What a tall glass of disappointment! It's cold here, and even the city takes issues with these temperatures (there are regulations, and our apartment is currently in violation of them). Holy tamoles, I will be righteously pissed if we have to go the weekend with our apartment getting progressively colder. And what really gets me frustrated is that Mendon and I are hearty young things, and I know that there are plenty, plenty of people in this apartment who are not so hearty, who could really suffer were they to get sick from the cold.

So, while for Hirsch Management this is a business, I encourage them to remember that they are directly responsible for the health and well-being of numerous lives. My lovely neighbors are not a phone call that can be taken tomorrow. Dammit.

I had plans for this sale, this 8:30 am on a day off sale. I could do it, I could win!

And I did:

The key for those of us who might follow along in my little life follows.
Labradorite, blue and green glowing rock
agate, fancy black rock
Moonstone, surprise, blue glowing rock
More of the Labradorite, but this time tiny, cut, and more expensive!
Silver beads

So, after said investment, I squirreled away my acorns purchase into my purse, and zipped home like I had the Golden Ticket. I told Mendon about how really, life is about happiness, right? And so, it's OK to sometimes not be all about the 401K, right? Sometimes, we need to buy glowing rocks like a kid with a Dark Crystal fix, right?

After retiring to my mess of a beading space, I looked at my Preciouses and realized that they were awfully... grey. While this realization might have allowed the briefest bit of regret, it took a whopping nanosecond for me to remember that the stones are glowing and consequently cement my love for them.

See self-promoting advert on the side bar, that is my store. It is the means through which Mendon forgives my "investments."

Wednesday night, we were scheduled to have Mendon arrive back, to host Feast, and to pick up my mom from the airport. While Wednesday night was a wee bit of what I might call stressful, it was completely worth it to get my mom into town and start a mini-vacation for myself. Little did I know that this mini-vacation would become in my brain my last chance at summer. Everything that I wanted to do for weeks and weeks of working full time and teaching and not seeing the light of day came out full-force once my mom arrived.

Sorry, mom.

In spite of it all, I made it into work on Monday on my feet.

While one might assume that we used the week to catch up and rest a little bit, the truth of the story is that today (Friday), I’m barely able to sit up in my chair I’m so exhausted (by this, I mean that I might be able to, but it feels risky to try).

In the interim, Mendon started school. Organic Chemistry and Physics.

And, I think to myself, Oh, right, this is what it felt like to be in class all through university. I’ve resorted to trying to drink water to keep myself awake. Awesome!

Me and my Reese's puffs were bemoaning that I teach violin in my own home, and we were longing for a day when (1) I didn't have to clean twice a week and (2) there would be fewer distractions in my teaching space. Number two has really been getting to me - we have these giant windows in our living room, where I teach, plus all of our art, our furniture, my husband getting home from work, making tea, forgetting his tea and letting the water boil, etc, etc, etc. But, alas, I have not the money for a second rent for my own studio.

:(

And then, me and my Puffs realized that, holy tamole!, who the heck am I kidding? If I were teaching in a school, or a shop (which is feasible), I would be fighting trombones, percussionists, and (urrrr) vocalists. Now my apartment seems a sweet baby lamb next to the beast of an electric guitar lesson in the next room, with nary but a (haha) fortified cardboard divider between.

Tonight after the summer camp faculty recital, I saw my first lightning bug of the season. It pleased me so very much. It also made me wonder a bit about myself that one well-placed bug can either end/make-all-right-with the world.

I've been working full-time, freelancing for weddings mostly, teaching 3 (now 4!) violin students a week, practicing, and trying to sleep. But, the studio grows, and I am optimistic about its development, and my consequent employment.

Every day at lunch, I leave my building immediately. I head to the beach and either walk up and down the park paths, or sunbathe on the rocks near the lake. Today's highlights were: One (1) wandering black collie, a jewel-toned rainbow sail boat, a light breeze, and the bluest, bluest lake water I've ever seen. Today, I fantasized that I was on vacation in Florida, rather than on lunch break in the Midwest. That, dearies, is what we call an over-active imagination.

Over and out.

PS. I do still really, really want to write about Japan.

With comments, many have been uploaded to my flickr site:
http://flickr.com/photos/44351041@N00/

Think of it like conveyor belt sushi!