A week and I half ago, I went to the first Thursday night drumming session. There's the rock on which two men sat, drumming. Three of us sat on chairs, drumming. I had borrowed Don's drum since it was actually my first time -- if you don't count the ten minutes that I tried and got enthusiastic about a new adventure during the Chelsea Art Walk.
And it was quite wonderful. Don keeps time in a very clear way, quite easy to follow if you don't start thinking of anything else. It is definitely a test of staying in the moment. Hit the center with your palm, the sides with your fingers. The two hours went quickly as the water turned to silver, the sky grew dark. There were no mosquitoes.
I went back this week, somewhat reluctantly because it's been enervatingly hot. But no one was there. Maybe next week.
For the past two nights I've gone for a walk with Chris and the dogs, the first time in four months that I've gone back to that nice area near Starbucks. Tulip (who should be called Turnip) chases the subway as it races along the track behind a fence. As soon as she sees it, she takes off.
Bogie likes to swim as an excuse for drinking water, paddling around a bit with his mouth open, swallowing.
Happy, whose portrait is not here, chases squirrels, staring up into the tree in wonderment that it yet again got away from her.
I'm exhausted after the walks, take aspirin and wonder why my body hurts so much. But it's either noodling around in the water (too hard to park near Revere on weekends) or the new adventure of going back to old walks. Onward....