You probably don’t remember that February is birthday month around here. When you have 4 core family members and half of them have birthdays in February, right after Valentine’s Day, no less, it’s a big deal. Makes for scrambling and excitement and extra cake.
As far as other things I’m grateful for, I’ve been feeling mostly better for almost 2 weeks. After a 7-week hiatus I got to go to Shape Note singing on Tuesday night, took Vi with me, sang for about an hour. It was fabulous. I had enough breath and I was using my best Alexander thinking due to having been around one of my colleagues on Saturday night (nothing to get good psycho-physical unification functioning like being around another Alexander teacher!).
In the 7-and-a-half years that I’ve been singing Sacred Harp on Tuesday nights in Northampton, Mass, I have never missed as many weeks in a row as I did over this extended period of ill health.
I also returned to yoga this week. This was the longest period in which I’ve missed yoga classes in over 3 years. Seven weeks. I was much stronger than I imagined, not so much was lost. I’ve still got muscles–even my abs (who knew?) and I’m regaining my breath very nicely.
Today is Hubby’s birthday and also marks the 25th anniversary of our first date. I don’t have a photo to share (I should get out the scanner) and I’m tired of google images, but I think some color is needed to break up the monotony of all these words.
I have now passed the point in my life after which I will now have known Paul for longer than I haven’t. I love to mark time in this way.
Time lengthening, time speeding up.
On Tuesday, I got to lead one of my favorite songs from The Sacred Harp:
#230 Converting Grace
As pants the hart for cooling streams, When heated in the chase;
So longs my soul, O God, for Thee, and Thy refreshing grace.
Oh, for converting grace, and oh, for sanctifying pow’r; Lord, we ask in Jesus’ name, A sweet, refreshing show’r.
For Thee, my God, the living God, My thirsty soul doth pine;
Oh, when shall I behold Thy face, Thy majesty divine?
Why restless, why cast down, my soul? Hope still; and thou shalt sing
Praise of Him who is thy God, Thy heath’s eternal spring.
twinklysparkles 