|Zora Neale Hurston, Drumming|
The weekend was way, way full. Warren had rehearsals and a concert in a city about an hour from here. The concert was an all Rodgers & Hammerstein evening. Now, I like R & H. I mean, really like them. Sigh. This was an inconsistent performance. Some of it was excellent (a couple of the soloists were superb), some of it was good, and some of it was, well, never mind. I will only say I have never heard "Oklahoma" sung at quite that tempo. You could not only spell "Oklahoma" but could probably embroider it to boot before the song finished. Between the rehearsals (Thursday and Friday) and the concert (Saturday), there were a lot of late, late nights.
As a result, I don’t really remember the weekend. Was there one? I know I got to Monday morning and said to Warren "I need a weekend now." Boy, do I ever.
Monday was made longer by my rising earlier than usual to take Aunt Ginger to the hospital for some pre-surgical testing. She sailed through without a hitch, looking unusually bright-eyed and perky (anxiety brings out her coloring). I hope I look half that good in five years when I turn 60, let alone if I ever reach almost 82.
So by the time I reached Monday night, I was beat. Exhausted. Worn out. I made oatmeal cookies for Tuesday’s legal clinic, I finished reading an excellent biography about Zora Neale Hurston (Wrapped in Rainbows by Valerie Boyd), I thought about but did not pick the tomatoes and beans. (It was evening. The mosquitoes were out. I hate mosquitoes.)
A day later, I am less physically tired, but my mood remains all over the floor. Limp. Worn out. I poke it around the edges. Sad? Depressed? Definitely on the numb side. I feel as if I have a lot on my mind, but nothing yet I can really catch up and deal with. (Or, perhaps more truthfully, nothing I am ready to catch up in my hands and deal with. Dealing with stuff is hard work.)
The biography I just finished started with a quote by Zora that I have long known: I have been in Sorrow's kitchen and licked out all the pots. What I didn’t know until I read this book is that there is more to the quote then that.
I have been in Sorrow's kitchen and licked out all the pots. Then I have stood on the peaky mountain wrapped in rainbows, with a harp and sword in my hands. [From Dust Tracks on the Road, 1942.]
As I emailed Warren this morning, right now I seem to be in Sorrow's kitchen, licking out all the pots. I need to move myself forward to the rest of that quote. I want to be wrapped in rainbows, with a harp and a sword in hand, standing on the peaky mountain.