But you know. pouring the contents of my navel into this blog wouldn't be entertaining. You'll have to trust me on that one, my dear Rancourtesans. Not attractive. Instead of dwelling on the bad (which, more often than not, has jumped up and grabbed me by the tonsils), I've been meditating on possibilities. Like, what can I learn from all of this?
And more importantly, can I change up the way I'm looking at things to find a different place to hang out? Perhaps a prettier place, where the people are nicer and the kids smile more? Oh, and as long as I'm at it, where everyone's thin and athletic and beautiful?
Oh, wait. That's LA.
Nah, I'm kidding. I looked at a couple of comedy videos, but they weren't quite the lotion I needed. Instead, as I've done for most of my life, I started listening.
Because, it doesn't get much better than that.
Trolling the Ella Fitzgerald videos on YouTube, I came across this one for One Note Samba which actually captures what I was after. She uses her voice as an instrument, and while most serious vocalists will tell you that their voice IS an instrument, the addition of words, of text, of poetry, usually forces the voice into a different category than, say, a trombone or clarinet. Listen to Ella, and hear the possibilities. She demands that you rethink your expectations for vocal and instrumental music.
So hug your babies even when those babies are caught up in the throes of adolescent angst, cuz life is short and unpredictable. Remember that the only thing you can control is your own response to the random things that happen. And enjoy a little more Ella as she sings about the Stairway To The Stars.
(I'm adding this on...here's a link to an article on The Seattle Times website with more info about what happened here the other day.)