A Close to Perfect Day

This was one of those picture-perfect days where it is cool but not so cool that you need a jacket in the sun, where there is not a cloud in the perfectly blue sky, where there is no humidity, where you finally see some leaves blushing and others fluttering to the ground. As I rolled out of bed after falling forward, the sun was already up – we’re once again saving daylight, whatever that means.

I worked out in our basement gym, thinking about the hundreds of calories I had consumed last night in our Hungarian dinner at a friend’s house, extending my time on the elliptical machine just a few more minutes. Then I downed my Cheerios and headed off to see Rebecca, mindful of the Marine Marathon which was in full tilt across the city.

My weekly appointment with Rebecca is so relaxed and familiar these days – familiar because Rebecca has become like family to me, sort of like the sister I never had. After we exchange all the gossip we can muster up and go through the hit parade of new recipes and restaurants while drinking our morning tea, I head upstairs to that beautiful front room that is so perfect for massage because it collects sunlight in its irregular shape. There’s now a white blanket on the carefully tucked sheets. The ceiling fan has been traded in for heat which feels good on my bare feet.

What is so wonderful about a massage with Rebecca is that it is never the same. Her spirit guides – Esther, Michael, and Isis – advise her as she decides just what is needed. Today was a mixture of long periods of silence interspersed with animated conversation, in which Rebecca decided that I am definitely a racist – ME, can you imagine that? The massage itself was especially good today, as she applied lavender to my temples to banish my headache and then used shiatsu on my legs and hips to try to add mobility to my creaky joints. Rebecca never watches the clock, simply working through all exposed body parts until she is satisfied that her work for the day is completed.

Feeling like a new person, I headed over to Temple Micah to join David, Bill, Kris, and hundreds of Micah-ites for a walk for the homeless – to benefit Micah House, our home for transitioning women. We donned colorful Tee shirts donated by Fannie Mae and walked in solidarity along the planned route. Afterwards we found a delightful outdoor café for lunch in the sun.

Mid-afternoon I went over to Deborah’s house for our weekly practice session. She had practically OD-ed on music yesterday, but tuned up her bass anyway for some more music. Our time together is always nice because it’s not preparation for a performance, but simply a time to luxuriate in the sounds of our two instruments. We’ve come so far in the six months since we started playing. I now know how to get started on a piece just by listening to Deborah breathe. We invariably start any new piece with “Don’t take it too fast.” If we tossed pennies in a jar for mistakes, there would be about the same number from each of us. At then end we treated ourselves to playing some jazz. There are infinite possibilities for what we might play next year at Chautauqua.

Then I came home for a movie and dinner with David. The movie was an Israeli film with English subtitles, which had a happy-ever-after ending but was lacking in some other ways. Dinner was recycled pea soup (which gets better with age) and a fresh apple-pear crisp, seems to be my specialty of the week, now that I finally know how to make it. (That’s for another post.)

What a busy day – filled with so many of the things and people I like best in this world!