It's such a lovely treat, in mid-August, to have a break from the typical D.C. city-sized armpit experience. This morning it felt so great. High clouds, lightish rain, and such an interesting ambient light -- it almost could have been any time of day or evening. Everything seemed soft and clear, like a watercolor. Kind of like the painting in the Art Institute of Chicago that is actually called "Paris Street: Rainy Day,"
but which my parents affectionately referred to as "The Flat-Iron Building" when it came up in our aged version of the Masterpiece board game. (a fun game, if you can get your hands on it.) Luminous. Homey, to me. I feel wrapped in the arms of my childhood, and in all the most interesting places I've been -- all the places that have meant the most to me -- on days like this. And then to enjoy a steaming cup o' Starbucks rocket fuel, AND treat myself to Swiss oatmeal from the Corner Bakery. Aaaaahhhh.
As I waited in the dozen-people-deep line in Starbucks, I grooved to some song or other that is apparently called "Fever," which is probably super super SUPER classic and something I should know all about, and which I have heard before many times, but which now serves to illustrate how very ignorant I am about music in general. This morning, though, I was not only merely enjoying the song, but picking out the various instruments (minimal) and what they brought to the song. Thinking, "Wow! I like the type of drum they used there. A different kind of drum would've changed the whole song." Yes, I realize to probably everyone reading this, that's like saying, "this morning I found myself counting to 10! Impressive!", but for me, it was a different approach than my usual clueless enjoyment or lack thereof. What pleases me about this, aside from the baby step of music appreciation that it represents, is that I know it happened because of the influence of the Significant Other, who is very very musical. (though he did NOT know that "Climb Every Mountain" was from The Sound of Music, which I still find shocking. But, we all blow it every now and then.)
I love how our various interests can, in the best way, infect and inspire others. I love that I'll be a more well-rounded person for having known M. That we all pass things on to each other, and help each other grow, and carry pieces of each other around, absorbing them and making them part of us in the process. It's so very cool. Don't you love it, say, when you're walking through a department store, and you see an outfit, and you think "That's so very so-and-so"? I love the idea that, even when "my people" aren't with me, or have moved away, that I carry them with me.
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