Yesterday, I was singing Anchorage, the old Michelle Shocked song to my 11 year old, (as you do). If you know the song, I highly recommend belting out the Leroy part at the end to children you are associated with. Keeps them on their toes. They wonder who Leroy is (especially if there is no Leroy in the family).
Leroy says, hello
Leroy says, send a picture
Leroy says, aw keep on rockin' girl
Yeah keep on rocking'
Singing got me thinking about the limited time I have to enrich my daughter's musical education. So much music to expose her to and so little time. This week my yoga teacher, who is near retirement age, said something about how at this stage in her life it's hard to imagine that at a previous time she was raising kids, working, renovating houses and also cooking the occasional meal. She is busy now too, but in a different way. In my mind, and on my mat, I was mentally ticking off the activities she'd just listed off. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
It's that time crunch that takes one out of the moment and certainly away from the funny. This was aptly demonstrated to me this week in my husband's reaction to an invitation to participate in a longitudinal study about aging at the local university:
"What? They want me to fill out forms with what little time I have left?!"
Middle-age is like that. Irrational responses to seemingly harmless requests. Which brings me to yesterday. I spent a lot of it making hot cross buns. (Incidentally, Hot Cross Buns is the only song I remember how to play on the recorder. I can tell you that this has come in handy, when I'm near a recorder. Most listeners enjoy it). I made the choice to spend hours baking because I LOVE homemade hot cross buns that much. I made these labour intensive buns, because they are that good warmed up with butter and served with tea. Plus, I only make them once a year. I made three dozen, so if I can keep a portion of them away from my family, I will be having hot cross buns with tea every afternoon this coming week.
It will be an Easter miracle if the buns make it to next Friday, but the baking, like all efforts in life, was a choice I made in hope, knowing there is no guarantee.
Yeah, keep on rockin' girl.