I had a theory: if I was really busy, I'd keep up with my blog posts. As it has been one full month since I last wrote, that theory is clearly wrong. Yesterday I had my 50th performance since May 31. Ten more to go. They've been quite fun, but I'm pretty tired and glad to have a few days off to catch up on office work.
The problem with writing infrequently is that I end up with forty or so topics in my head. When I write frequently, I tend to have only about twenty. Here are a few:
It's mostly gone. I went on to take Prednisone, which suppressed it for the time I was taking it. When I stopped, after tapering off, the PI came back. Weird. Also weird were the small bruises that showed up in a line up my arm. I'm going to try the homeopathic rhus tox 30x to build up my defenses against this nasty weed.
Summer colds are deeply unfair. Even more unfair is having a cold/sore throat at the National Storytelling Conference. Once again, I was unable to speak much at the conference--this is the third time I've had this happen. I don't know if I want to dig into the psychological reasons. I'm ready to change the pattern. Other than this, the conference went well. I hosted a "playbreak" on Saturday afternoon and had just enough voice to carry it off, with the help of my microphone and the participants. Wish I'd had more energy, though.
Dancing at the conference
Required. This year the St. Louis conference committee outdid all the others, affording us three opportunities to dance. One was in the opening program, where many of us got up to dance in the aisles. The next was after the awards ceremony (big congratulations, especially to Sean and Beth). At first people were shy to get on the dance floor, but once Joyce suggested Motown to the keyboard player and singer, things loosened up. I got to dance with Sean Buvala's youngest daughter Kelsey, one of the only young kids around at the conference. The third chance to dance was at the closing ceremony, where the African troupe invited everybody to get up and move. Despite my cold, I danced all three times.
I don't actually like bourbon or most other hard liquors. Bourbon is what my father used to drink (pronounced "beuh-bn" in Dad's Rhode Island accent). Last week I told stories at the public library in Bourbon, MO--Dad would have laughed to hear I was "performing in Bourbon." The next day, I had another reference to the drink. In one of the St. Charles, MO libraries, I was singing a song in which a baby cries suddenly because she needs something. What does she need? A kid in the back called out "Bourbon!" What?! "No! I said 'burpin'!" Whew. In my defense, some of the other adults heard him say bourbon, too.
My trusty car
Have I mentioned how much I love my car? I spend a lot of time in it, though when I'm in town I try not to drive much. My car is a 1992 Toyota Corolla which just passed 221,000 miles. My mechanic thinks it will last to 300,000 miles. Inshallah*
I'm sure there were more topics I wanted to cover. Maybe they'll come to me after a nap.
*Arabic expression for anything in the future, meaning "if Allah wills it."