Gray day......

Gray day. Everything is gray, I watch but nothing moves today.....line from a book about colors by Dr.Seuss. He was brilliant, and all my children when they were little loved this book, and I still do. It is a gray damp February day. The snow has softened since it's dumping, and icicles hold little threat. This type of weather puts a chill in my bones that I can't shake. Not to mention that I've been relapsing with this sinus infection/cold. My Dr. had to extend the antibiotics I'm on since I have fluid in my ears, and then she had the audacity to tell me I needed more "rest". Ahhhhh rest, that is a quest I've been after for a while. Lately I haven't been getting much. Our furniture is still piled in the center of our room. I have no energy to pull the room together and instead of letting it drive me crazy I'm not going to worry about it until the weekend. I'll put on some Miles Davis and have at it. I think better when I'm alone with my "jazz". What is it about that music that settles the nerves, let's my mind ramble on no certain course, and makes my heart feel light. Probably since I was raised in such a traditional caucasion household. I liked jazz the first time I heard it. It was so unlike anything I had ever experienced. It had a beat, a rythmn all it's own. Like buzzying bees without a course. I am probably the only one in my family that loves it, but then again I have a huge Frank Sinatra collection, I love the trumpet, and then the blues. I listen to whatever Alex puts in front of me, and there are many talented artists out there today, but I like to stick with those I know. Sometimes I want to sing along to John Mayer's "Georgia" or croon with Frank's "One for my baby"....but music has always been one area in my life that I have always been true to. Sure I listened to the music that was "in" when I was in high school but I was never afraid to listen to whatever else I wanted too. I love me a good Ike and Tina "Proud Mary" and yet I can listen to George Winston's Summer CD and drift a million miles away. The other day it was delightful. I was the only one at home, painting away and listening to Chris Botti's "When I fall in Love". The music was loud and a freight train could have come through the house and I never would have noticed. I was at peace. One of the greatest gifts that the program of Alcoholics Anonymous has given me is that I appreciate the little things. A few stolen minutes alone with music, gray day or sunny, is a perfect way to pass the time.....