Summa-summa-summertime!!

In typing out that title, I'm not sure it completely works, but whatever.

Breathe in, Breathe out. Today is the first day of summer. *bing*

I find it ironic that my first *real* day of summer coincides with the official, calendar-y, everyone else agreed start to summer, June 21st. Woohoo!

I have spent the last two glorious weeks in the process of teaching twenty-odd humans how to do the things that I love to do. I'm a percussionist. Since I spend much of my life receiving a confused stare and cocking of the head when I make this statement, I'll elaborate.

Merriam-Webster says that a percussionist is one skilled in the playing of percussion instruments.

Wikipedia says a percussion instrument is a musical instrument that is sounded by being struck or scraped by a beater, or struck, scraped or rubbed by hand, or struck against another similar instrument. The percussion family is believed to include the oldest musical instruments, following the human voice.

(Gotta say, I'm pretty jazzed to be associated with the oldest musical instruments, following the human voice.)

Percussion instruments are most commonly divided into two classes: Pitched percussion instruments, which produce notes with an identifiable pitch, and unpitched percussion instruments, which produce notes without an identifiable pitch.

There you go. Clear as day.

But the part I find interesting is how much I spend my teaching time talking about breath. And body. And movement. And dance. And joy. Yes, in a very fundamental sense, I hit stuff, but the longer I play, the more the music becomes an extension of the life and joy and breath inside me. And oh, how fun to share that with others.

I especially love that moment when someone sees a percussion concert for the first time and says "Wow, you guys have a lot of fun!" Or a wind player thrills over being able to play with "All these different instruments. I only get one, but you all get lots and lots!" Explaining the interest and beauty of a phased rhythm, then watching them experience it. Raising the bar. Expecting excellence. Very good stuff.

So now we close the workshop for another year and turn to the tasks of the season.

Swim.
Sun.
Rest.
Play.
Connect.

Summer on, my friends.
~Me

Mama's two-fisting it again...

Welcome to the first official day of summer. <throws confetti>

Actually, not really. It'll start in two weeks. More on that later.

We started vacation off with a whimper, due to some LATE night drama last night. But all is well, everyone's alive (to the best of my knowledge), and we made it home safe & sound. Rising at the grand hour of 8:30 am (I truly live the lush life) I proceeded to herd my Things 1 & 2 off the couch to feed them breakfast. Food - check. Milk - check. I began making my breakfast smoothie and latte. Check, check! Here's where you can see my Californian roots showing.

My breakfast smoothie:
1/2 cup traditional rolled oats
1/2 cup plain, nonfat Greek yogurt
1 Tb Chia seeds
3/4 cup frozen berries
Water
Blend. Drink. Go on with life. Ignore just how granola-earth-y this looks.

So, having made my breakfast beverages, I decide to call husband.

"Hey husband, how are things?"
"Hon, you're slurring."
"What?!?"
"Slurring. Have you had your coffee yet?"
"Working on it now."
"Call me back when you've had your coffee."

Side note 1: There was no alcohol consumed this morning, or in the 36 hours prior
Side note 2: NO, I am NOT a morning person. If the world could choose to start about 10:30ish, I would totally be on board.
Side note 3: For some cosmic joke, I have two children who are wired to rise at 6:30 every day. Every. Single. Day.
Side note 4: I have no idea how I survived a 7am high school jazz band for 4 years.

If you're ever in my neighborhood, and you see a red-haired woman wandering the streets with extremely vertical hair and beverages clutched in both hands, just tell me to drink my coffee and point me towards home.

~Me

Managing the "feeds"

Welcome back, self.
Thanks, self! Glad to be here!

Today is the final day. The Finish. The last page. The school year is ending.

This comes with much mixed feelings, as I LOVE me some public schooling. I also LOVE the personal time that is given to me each and every school day. But let's be real, folks: we parents are tired. Tired of the early wake ups, tired of the packing of school lunches, tired of the tracking emails/notifications/carrier pigeon/smoke signal/telepathy of information coming from teachers and offices. Tired of tying shoes. Thank goodness homework was over a few weeks ago, 'cause I was ready to go all the way around the bend on that one...

BUT

This now means my children will be home with me. All. Day. Long.

I've been gathering up ideas for keeping my Things 1 and 2 occupied during these summer days, and yesterdays stroke of brilliance was thus: They should keep writing journals! Fabulous! They'll practice their writing skills! Incredible! They'll document their summer! Bonus! They can draw pictures! Amazing! Pats on the back all around.

Then comes the little voice.

"You should keep a journal, too."

Crap.

Let me introduce you to my little voice. She doesn't have a name, though she sounds a lot like me. Though I often suspect that's because she's in my head. (NO, I am not crazy. Not any more than you, anyhow.) She doesn't talk a lot, but when she does, it's kind of a stinger. And though she frequently, regrettably, consistently ticks me off, she's often right.

Earlier this year (December-ish) I came to the realization that I'm a writer-type. Slash-poet. Parentheses-lover-of-words. Not that I've done huge amounts with that knowledge, I'm a MOM for goodness-sake! But, the realization remains, thus my chirpy little inner voice.

So, paired with that global realization of (say it with me) I spend too much time on Facebook (there, see, we all feel better. Kind of like an AA meeting) my current thought is thus:

Ditch Facebook for the summer and write a blog post a day.

Go ahead, gasp and freak out. I'm right there with you.

In mildly exhorbitant disbelief,
~Me