You might be surprised to learn that at one time, I was passionate about music.
It was a passion that turned into a career: From 1980 through 1983, I wrote and produced programming for nationally syndicated radio. In 1984, I was a staffer on a music video show that was syndicated by Group W (this was in the days before MTV was a staple on ALL the country's cable networks -- in fact, at this time, there was still NO cable service in my neighborhood in the San Fernando Valley!)
Needless to say, I had a HUGE collection of vinyl records, which have been taking up space and gathering dust in my home for years. As I was on the mailing list of several major labels, the collection ran the gamut from rock to pop to hip-hop to jazz and country... and a lot of them had NEVER been taken out of their jackets and listened to.
From time to time, I thought about selling some of these items on eBay, but I had no idea how to evaluate their worth -- and the tedium of creating an entry for each record gave me a headache.
We used to have three very tall palm trees in our front yard -- until I woke up one morning to discover that one of them had collapsed in the middle of the night. It had been diseased and simply died... and I was grateful that the damn thing hadn't fallen on the sidewalk on a busy morning, when kids walk past our house to get to the middle school up the street.
We were advised to take down the other two trees. We replaced it with a young jacaranda, which might seem like a strange choice to anyone who has to deal with the messiness of a jack's lavender-colored blossoms, after they have fallen off the branch. I didn't care. I just love this time of year, when you see these impossible swaths of color next to the dark green of all the other trees. I couldn't wait for my little tree to burst out in purple.
I'm guessing this occurred prior to my blogging habit -- so that jacaranda has been out there for at least six years, and we've never had a single bloom. I had come to the conclusion that whatever it was that killed our palms had affected the jack. I'd gotten into the habit of looking at it for signs of disease or death, but the fronds remain green and the tree is slowly growing.
And then, on Saturday, I spied a tiny little sprig of purple blossoms on the tree's uppermost branch.
It felt to me like a little miracle.
Yesterday afternoon, I did something unusual for me -- at least, since the start of the recession: I went shopping for something other than groceries.
I drove to my favorite mall, all by myself, with NO TIME RESTRAINTS (i.e., school pickup, dinner to cook, etc.) and wandered from store to store to store, with no specific agenda other than to see what was available.
I had a number of goals in mind: (1) We are leaving for the UK in a little over two weeks, and I'm trying to fill in some holes in my wardrobe (but I'm not sure which ones), (2) I want to pack more efficiently and wanted to look at my options, (3) the day we leave the country is my sister's 51st birthday, and last year, while mired in house renovation misery, I barely acknowledged her milestone. She says she doesn't care, but just the fact that she mentioned it to me tells me that she did care a little. So I wanted to find a little something to make it up to her.
A trip to a mall may not seem like a wonderful way to spend a Sunday afternoon -- but this was different. For one thing, I parked the way they do in the movies: The moment I entered the parking structure, a car was pulling out of the very first non-handicapped spot right next to the entrance. I got the best parking space in the place without even waiting for it. How often does that happen?
Another little miracle.
I started out at Target. I looked at luggage. I looked at travel products. I took some pictures so I could compare their stuff with the stuff I'm considering at more expensive stores. I tried on clothes and was delighted to discover that I'm still the same size as last year, even though I put on an additional five pounds. I didn't buy anything there -- I wanted to see what else was available and Nordstrom is having their big spring sale.
A lot of stores are having sales. I wandered into quite a few of them, just scoping out the merchandise. I spent a lot of time chatting with a saleslady in one of the luggage stores. I perused the Sony and Apple stores to see if they had anything that would make it easier to organize all the electronics we travel with these days (not unless I can budget for a new iPad or netbook -- which I can't. But it was worth looking at).
I must have spent an hour in Sephora. Now that I'm playing so much with video, I'm wearing makeup again. Sometimes having a lot of choices isn't such a good thing - I have a hard time making decisions there, and usually walk out empty-handed.
And then I happened into a store that carries my favorite brand of jeans, where I discovered that the style I favor was on sale for HALF PRICE. This made them only about $15 more than the cheap Old Navy pair I bought because I couldn't bear to spend the money on the ones I like.
It was another little miracle. I snapped them up. I didn't spend any time wondering if I could afford them, or worrying about the bill. I found something I liked and wanted and needed and I bought it as if it was the most normal thing in the world -- like it used to be.
I cranked up the radio when I drove home, and as I caught myself singing along to the music, I realized something: I was happy. I wasn't feeling stressed, or worried or obligated to anything or anyone. And I knew from experience that this moment was fleeting. I needed to savor it, because that feeling of absolute contentment never lasts.
And maybe that's a good thing, because if you never know anxiety or sadness or depression, how can you recognize the good times? Maybe all the crap I've dealt with over the last two years are a good thing, because now I can appreciate the good times ahead.
Another little miracle.
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