Out the Door

Each morning, there is a small time span that tightens the muscles on the back of my neck so tight - musical notes could be plucked off them... and it wouldn't be some playful overture - talkin' more of a scorched earth march through the South. Steam comes out my ears as I vent the stress on a daily basis to get people moving out the door and off to their daily regimen.

I don't like to be late. Not with a fox, not in a box... I do not like being late. Unfortunately, my other half doesn't know what it means to be early... and the trouble with compromise in this situation is that the clock doesn't lie. It is an instrument of exact science, right down to the second. So even her "earlier than usual" is my "later than average" (over the course of my lifetime).

As I attempt to get to work, school, church, other activities... in order to simply leave the house I must bob and weave through obstacles and around objects (luggage sized purses and piles of shoes). My heart pounds as the veins and arteries in this body are probably hard as cement with intermittent bouts of plaque blockage. Yes I have been quoted before as saying sarcastically to people who think I overstress - "I will probably die of a heart attack from the stress I feel from being late on a regular basis..."

However, the greatest obstacle is one I can't really do anything about. This obstacle is the space in the back of our house where four doors were once located. Call it a landing, a narthex, a rear entry, whatever... I call it an intersection reminiscent of spaghetti junction. One door has been removed, but this small "intersection" is still the route to head out of the house through the back door. Any newer home probably wouldn't allow such a tight space with so many potential options but ours is set this way and probably will be forever. To make it through this intersection - out the door - can be such a minefield.

Especially in the winter with stuffy jackets.

And carrying bundles and bags - I carry my youngest through the door reminiscent of Walter Payton with a football weaving his way to sweetness, or is it Barry Sanders cutting past Vikings?

The thing is, I am trying to set an example for my kids. To break out of this mould - into something different. Something that arrives on time, perhaps even early as the bird who gets the worm. Unfortunately what my kids probably see is an old man popping grey hairs from being stressed about something as trivial as being late.

Is it trivial?

Song by Song

I have made a lot of mixed cd's (a postcurser of the mixed tape) over the years. They were originally created out of inspiration of some sort or another - love, rock, motion, emotion, blah blah. Lately, the mixed cd's don't happen as often.

Today I have been loading these mixed cd's onto our external drive for use at a different capacity. Perhaps creating a digital fingerprint via memory lane.

It's not the same as creating the mixed cd's. A much different action... a bit of passion and inspiration vs this drone-like archivation.... (I know its not a word). Warmth vs. coldth.

For a time the creation of these mixes came as an onslaught of creation and alteration of some sort or another. One after another the mixed cd madness came with their clever titles (Hip Hop Blender 1, Hip Hop Blender 2, Long Hot Summer, Midnight Radio, Naughty..., ...and Nice, Love and Play, Winter Jazz...) well maybe not too clever.

The mixes popped through differing periods of time through the past 10 years... as if there was no end - and there isn't an end... but the energy seems to go to different uses now.

It was fun. The music was great - is great - it keeps coming and always will. Hearing a song and working it into a set on paper and imagining the sounds before they were actually "burned". A long technique that eventually became extinct and unnecessary.

Anyhow, soon there probably won't be cd's to purchase to burn and many folk use their portable digital devices to house their music - and they simply have to press "shuffle" to hear the songs in a different way - as they shuffle along song by song.

Smokestacks

With the New Year the smokestacks announce our intentions:

To stay warm within our inner sanctums.

Smokestacks in Minneapolis

Besides beacons of warm air moving aloft,

Besides smoke signals of necessity,

Besides pollution as CO2,

the smokestacks billow out spirits that renounce the cold.

Life is happening within and without –

and it is exhaling to the heavens.