SMELLING THE LILACS

In the continuing saga of pollen:

I go for a walk today.  Okay, actually I am walking home from a friend's house, but that still counts.  It's finally warm today after a chilly and grayish start to the day, so I tie my sweatshirt around my waist and head toward home.

Crossing the street by the churches, I decide to cut through the grass-covered alley instead of staying on the sidewalk.  The path is lush, green, and, best of all, in the shade. 

At the end of the walkway is a tall bush.  Yup, lilacs.  Again.

The last time lilacs and I ran into each other, I avoided them as much as I could so I wouldn't keep sneezing.  Today, pollen be damned!  It rained this weekend, it was cold this weekend, it was overcast this weekend.

I decide to change my attitude with the sun.  Since it's warm now and finally spring for real, I walk up to those lilacs, take a deep breath, savor the moment, and move on.

Now, if I can just translate that into my everyday life, the lilacs (and the pollen) can teach me life lessons.  Right now all I've got is "Stop to smell the lilacs."  I suppose "Damn the pollen!" works, too.

POLLEN, POLLEN ... EVERYWHERE!

Pollen, pollen, everywhere
Pollen, pollen, makes me swear

Nastiest stuff I've ever seen
Shit that makes my car turn green

Falls in clouds from every breeze
Clouds of crap that make me sneeze

First my car is white with snow
Then the petals that do blow

Coat my car and house and grass
Pollen- pains me in the ass

Sure, it signals changing gear
Yes, it means that Spring is here

But could I have just one fine day
Where shovel and broom can go away

ROSSINI STRIKES AGAIN

I am reasonably certain that I've written about this before, but it always fascinates me when it happens, which is once in a blue moon.

My clock-radio (yes, I STILL have one of those) is set for 5:05 a.m.  Sometimes I change the station around.  It's usually on the local Spanish station, but occasionally I will branch out to classical music or to funny morning talk.

During the night I do something that I never, ever do:  I sleep through the night.  Oh, sure, I wake up around 3:30, but I'm too tired to drag myself out of bed to pee, so, when I do get the call, I convince myself that I'll get up to pee when I roll over in ... threeeeeee, twooooo, ooooone ...  Back to sleep I go.

Then next thing I know, the alarm is going off, and it's the William Tell Overture.  You may know this as the theme song from the old television show The Lone Ranger.  Instantly I am up-and-at-'em.  It's amazing to me how the music (and having to pee) can set my day into motion.  If the music is slow and quiet, Brahms perhaps, my day starts out a lot calmer.  If it's talk radio and it's sports (and my team lost), I end up starting my day in a foul mood.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c7O91GDWGPU

Starting my day with Rossini, much like starting it with Mendelssohn, sets into motion a quick-start, and I am up and running at a break-neck pace.  Of course, by the end of the day my head is resting on my arm on the kitchen table, and I'm napping at 4:30 in the afternoon, but it's okay because I started my day at high speed and maintained that pace until the bitter end.

If only I were a Kentucky Derby horse, there might be a pay-off for this energy.  Unfortunately, I'll have to be happy with the humor I see in it all and the crazy pace I set for myself because my clock-radio happens to be set to WCRB this morning instead of WODS (oldies) or Power Ochociento or EEI Sports Talk... 

TOOTH-SNAPPING AND OTHER DISASTERS

I'm having a rough week.  Right smack in the middle of it, I crack a tooth.  Actually, I do more than crack it; I snap a piece of that sucker right off.

It all starts when I steal my son's late-night dinner.  He arrives home from playing flag football, and I wander into the living room, following my nose.  I openly steal right from his take-out container.  When I grab a piece of chicken, I bite down hard without paying much attention to what I'm doing.

Unfortunately, the place in my mouth that I use to put the biggest force on the chicken is a place that is already compromised.  There's a part of my jaw that has been beaten down since I was a small kid and fell into a coffee table, whacking out several teeth.  Years later, a failed root canal and a surgical procedure to fix a gum/jaw infection did little to help that section of bone structure.  Last year I had some facial surgery right at the same spot, too.  It's like there's a target over my left cheek.

Oh, but my poor broken tooth.  I feel so guilty.  I feel like a bad human, a bad skeleton.  I feel like I've let the Tooth Fairy down.  This poor tooth has been through so much already and has a massive filling holding it together. The tooth has shifted ever-so-slightly from its mooring, and that sucker has been on borrowed time for most of my life.

Still, however, it has always been the Little Tooth That Could.  Tonight, it's The Little Tooth That Couldn't Any Longer.

Unfortunately for my tooth, the dentist is out of town and will be for about four days.  I could see another dentist, but I'm not in any pain (yet), and I'm not letting anyone touch my tooth except Dr. P, anyway, so there's no point.  Besides, I'm slightly afraid that another dentist will knock the filling out, expose the nerve, and leave me writhing and miserable until Dr. P comes back.  It's not a front tooth; I'm not looking like a hockey player or anything like that.  The tooth only snapped in the back.  The front of the tooth still looks fabulous.  Of course, the jagged little edge annoys the hell out of my tongue, but I'm trying not to loosen anything else.

This is a long, sad saga, for sure.  There is some good news, though.  I will be seeing Dr. P on Monday afternoon.  I'm taking it all as a good sign because I believe in humor and coincidence.  You see, my dentist appointment is actually at the perfect time --  2:30.  Yes, tooth-hurty.  The irony is not lost on me.  I do, however, hope that there is NO "hurty" in this tooth situation.  I already feel horrible for breaking the poor baby in the first place.  I hope that's pain enough for me.

PARKING LOT PROBLEMS

Are you even kidding me right now?  Where are the cameras?  Candid Camera must be nearby.  I mean, this isn't the first time this has happened, but come on.

I need to stop at AC Moore for some candy-making supplies.  Luckily, AC Moore isn't very crowded on a weekday afternoon, but I park out in the lot, anyway.  I like to be away from people, and I could use the walk.  There isn't another car in the square area of the lot where my car is all by its lonesome.

I run in, buy the stuff I need, and am out of the store less than fifteen minutes later.  I start walking toward my car and I see ... MOTHERFUCKER. 

Parked right up next to the driver's side of my car, less than fifteen inches away, is another car.  It is so close that there is no way I'm getting into my car without smacking theirs with my door.  I peer inside the car.  It looks like everything this person owns is inside, all higgley-piggley. 

What. An. Asshole.

I get into my car, then I sidle out again, take some pictures, and scooch back into the driver's seat.  Honestly, I am flypaper for freaks, fiends, and fuck-heads.  I could park in an isolation chamber and some asshole would find a way to park right next to me.  I consider waiting for the driver to come out of the store, but I figure if everything the person owns is inside the car, there's a good possibility there's also a loaded gun in there.

No need to get shot over poor parking.  Besides, once an asshole, always an asshole.  I pack my AC Moore supplies into the front passenger seat, and I'm back into traffic where I expect people to be right alongside.

MORE WALKING, RIGHT?

I am trying to do more walking.  When in DC, I walk about twenty-five miles over three days ... probably more than twenty-five miles.  I go for walks around town with friends but also more often by myself.  I also do a 5k (mostly walking but some jogging) over the weekend.

I'm trying to keep up the momentum, so today I do my favorite route forward: 1.25 miles up a long, gradual, but intense hill.  Once I get to the top of the hill, I have a multitude of ways to come back down the hill, but it's okay because I must descend since the entire first half of the walk has been climbing.  Regardless of my return route, I'm moving in the right direction: NOT uphill.

The best part of this route is that I go past a lot of residential older homes before hitting civilization.  Today the blossoms are out on bushes, and the tree leaves have nearly unfurled.  This is great news for the coming of summer.  This is horrible news for my nose.

Halfway through today's walk, my nose starts running, which is depressing because this is not the body part that should be doing the running; it should be my stumpy legs running my lard-ass back to base camp at my house at the bottom of the hill. 

Oh, I almost make it.  Yup, I keep away from the worst of the pollen until I pass the lilacs.  Then I pass more lilacs.  Then more.  And even more.  By the time I pass the fourth stone wall covered in semi-blooming lilacs, my nose is running faster than an escaped convict.

Thank goodness I thought to bring a tissue with me.  Unfortunately, it's only one tissue, so I have to cut my walk short.  I jog the last 3/10ths of a mile to my house, sitting on the front step and blowing my nose into the nearly threadbare tissue.  I only make it two miles today, which is better than I planned (my plan was to sit on my fat butt when I got home).  That counts as "more walking," right?

DARTH VADER IN DC

I know, I know -- It's not May 4th anymore; it's past Star Wars Day.  In Washington, DC, it's Star Wars Day every day if you visit the Washington Cathedral.

The Cathedral is an amazing piece of architecture that took many decades to build.  Inside are a major sanctuary and lots of little side sanctuaries honoring different ages, occupations, and nations.  While we are there, we are the only people touring the downstairs chapels when we stumble across the Cathedral organist practicing Benjamin Britten's "Rejoice In the Lamb."  It is, quite amazingly, a damn-near holy experience.

Inside the church is the Canterbury Pulpit, from which Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., gave his last Sunday sermon before his assassination, and everyone from world leaders to the Dalai Lama has spoken from this pulpit.
 

There are statues and stained glass and incredible arches.  President Woodrow Wilson is interred in Washington Cathedral.  There's even a lunar moon rock in a stained glass window.  There's a walkway around the seventh floor from which post-earthquake repairs can be seen in process.  (I cannot even fathom being inside this massive structure during an earthquake,although if one needed prayer, this would certainly be the right venue.)

Yes, it seems like the place just cannot get any cooler.  Except that it can.

On the outside of the Cathedral, high amongst the tall windows near the peak of its tower, is a special gargoyle, perhaps the most revered of all the gargoyles.  Darth Vader is on the Washington Cathedral.  We spot Darth while we are hanging outside and doing our cell-phone online check-in for the upcoming flight home.  I vaguely recall hearing a story that Vader is a gargoyle, but I never believe we will spot him.

I look up, and, to a wandering docent's surprise, we spot Darth Vader.  Okay, at first I believe it is a gargoyle just left of the actual Vader, but still.  Not every Jedi has perfect aim, right?  Sure, the rest of the Cathedral is stunning and absolutely mind-blowing, but Darth Vader has to be one of the cooler parts of this journey.

Although it's a few days late, I bring to you greetings from DV in DC.  May the Fourth be with you, my friends ... and also with you.  (Hey, it IS a Cathedral, after all.)