Change is the watchword these days; shifting toward something. My fitbit just asked me if I wanted to go 55 more? Since I just sat down, my answer is ignore. My nap was not over the limit into sluggishness. The brain feels alive, although that might be sign of a successful dinch: not too heavy, and satisfying to both the cook (that would be me) and the partner. The kitchen is clean, leftovers away.  Go watch another episode of season 6...? Indulgent. On a kind day, that would be absolutely okay.

Not that this is not a kind day. So far it has been. Good sleep and not much pain. Walking each night in the dark around the neighborhood, carrying the solar lantern and watching out for hazards of course, the dividends are coming in: loosey-goosey, like the old me. (Don't tell my lawyer that.) Sloppy-sleep my old PT used to tell me. Any old which way. Almost own that and without overuse of OTC. This is progress.

An email last week from an almost-friend surprised me by its bitterness, and now today another one: commanding us all (not willing or not wanting to repeat to everyone) to perform a task. Ostensibly in order to avoid ennui, yet not actually finding out in individual case whether or not it applies. It doesn't to me. I'm not bored at all. Oppressed maybe, terrified definitely, but that's lessening. Boredom pops up like a field rodent, disappearing almost before I recognize it.

Felt a pang of sorrow for her; I suspect this is emanating from her sudden massive displacement. Losing her home, her familiar hangouts, the knitting circle, the old crusty problems replaced by strangers. We'll never meet again; she's too old and this travel was meant to be permanent anyway. Reminds me of the upheaval before my mother's death. Damn.

A new piece of choral music is going through my head right now; Monday nights we voluntarily Zoom ourselves into an ensemble. The numbers are shrinking though. Last piece not a good balance of voices, so I stepped up to Soprano II, (thankfully all they needed was audio) after already submitting my Alto I video. My favorite coach is a YouTube woman that I found a couple of years ago when stuff hadn't hit the fan yet. I still like her; she reminds me so much of my sweet Lillian even though I gotta admit some of the 'reacting to fill-in-the-blank' videos are not my cuppa tea. At all.

And I 'volunteered' to work with a local coach during a sort of ad hoc part of the Monday night rehearsal. That was grisly. Had myself all prepped last month for the same business and she ran out of time. Cuz she talked too damn much. Okay, enough talking, let's do some singing. Ya think?

The reason I still have some fun is that it is almost impossible to take any of this seriously. I mean, sure, I show up to the Zoom, but I leave if I want to. I know my stuff for the most part. I still enter it into Musescore for my own pleasure, change the voicings all around and fiddle with the tempo. We get a 'conducting' video and then record ourselves. I have a beige sheet backdrop. It's all good. A guy has been engineering the final product. I sense from some quarters a bit of push-to-the-front of the process, which I would have totally done, like for solos and whatnot. Ixnay on that now. Doesn't interest me at all unless it is REALLY attractive, and so far, not so much.

Nah. I am content to knit and watch old TV shows and cook and pump some piano rolls. I message my grandson the latest puns and he responds.

no just no