Recap and Survey

Snapshot (with sound, motion):

The dehumidifier with its mild indigestion. Dog whining. The usual disarray of my life--empty used mugs and glasses, ripped-open envelopes, a pack of green apple sugarless gum (quite good). So good I actually decide to have some and, miraculously, throw the wrapper away. A photograph of Significant Person, smiling last summer in Powhatan, VA. A ticket stub from a movie he took me to see, also last summer. Scraps of paper with e-mail addresses. Receipts. Digital audio recorder. Paper clip. Lip balm (passionfruit). The detritus of bachlorettehood, loneliness, disorganization.

I've had a busy several days. Little Sister (AKA "Yavie"--the Elvish word for her real name [we were raised Nerd]) came to visit and see a Switchfoot concert with me last week. Yes, Switchfoot is a Christian rock band, and I'm not terribly Christian. Neither is Yavie. They are appealing to me for several reasons:

1. Great chord progressions (the music major in me loves a skillful key change)
2. Interesting and complex lyrics
3. They never mention Jesus per se
4. Significant Person introduced me to them, so they induce Nostalgia

Actually, I asked Significant Person to name the five greatest American rock bands (this used to be my standard ice breaker) shortly after we met, and Switchfoot was on his list. Then he played me "Only Hope," which was his favorite song back then. (Is it now?) I was hooked.

The concert, being held outdoors, was delayed for two hours by torrential downpours. Despite our umbrellas, Yavie and I were soaked, mostly likely because the wind was blowing horizontally. Finally, the rain let up, to a backdrop of rainbow.

Yes, it was a good concert (much better live than recorded, Switchfoot is). I loved watching the sea of soaked and muddy people--parents with their children propped on their shoulders, lovers pressed wetly in each other's arms. I felt the compression of loneliness in my chest, how much I wished that Significant Person would have been there with me, even though I'm not sure of his opinions about music in general these days.

But I had my adorable little sister. Who could feel real sorrow?

Although, granted, everything is tempered. The one thing that I can't stop thinking about is watching the news last week, and seeing a story where a solitary victim of a rocket explosion lay in a field, flattened, almost like a spot of oil. Not even human. A woman in a bomb shelter nearby kept trying to call her husband on her cell phone, but he wouldn't answer. Eventually, they could hear ringing from the field.

How do we negotiate our lives in the face of such violence and grief? We move. We have to.

And so Radar visited the veterinarian on Monday for his check-up, and then I had to rescue my Sister Friends from Syria (VA), where they had ended up as a result of a wrong turn in Shenandoah National Park. (Once, when Significant Person was in Syria, I drove to my Syria, as though five letters could cross the distance between us.)

Today I had a more or less complete physical, including blood work and nasty female examinations. I found it amazing that I could carry on a perfectly ordinary conversation with the doctor while wearing, essentially, a piece of paper. Tomorrow, I'm supposed to get my very own HPV vaccination.

None of this should suggest that my whirlwind of luscious sadness has passed, since it seems only to thicken. I could ask you the questions that I'm considering myself, but they seem so private (and it should be apparent that I don't find much to be private).

I would be really interested to see some lists of your opinions of the Five Greatest American Rock Bands, though. Only American. Forget the Beatles, the Stones.

Seriously. I'm waiting. I could use the distraction, couldn't you?