It was a windy weekend in Chatsworth, a small suburb of Los Angeles, California. It was a little more than balmy, but not like a hurricane. Just those Santa Ana winds clearing the smog from the air in sunny LA. I'd had a bad week,just way beyond stressful, and I didn't realize how tough it was until I started to recount what happened to the patient new boyfriend and realized it had been almost miserable. Or as close as one can get to that in this sunny city. I work for a few doctors who take care of some serious things, like brain tumors and head injuries and spinal cord injuries, and sometimes we all feel really good about our work and sometimes, like last week, it's just overwhelming.
Lucky for me, I had my four-year-old twin grandbabies, one silly but very busy little boy and one curly-haired talkative little diva, for a sleep-over on Friday night. Those sweet little people always make me forget my troubles and have fun. Just can't help it with them around. Their mother, my beautiful curly-haired daughter, was getting ready to host a New Member tea on Saturday morning for her MOMs club, which stands for Mothers-of-Multiples and means they all have or are expecting twins or triplets or, eek, quads, so you can imagine how much the guests would appreciate a morning out in the company of other adults. Making dinner for the little people and giving them a bath, if I can catch them as they run around naked while the water is filling the tub, made me forget everything. Worries about the war, the environment, the economy, etc. etc, just flew away, like the smog in the wind, and I was peaceful again.
And, speaking of adults, I hosted another of my Free Cocktail Parties Saturday night. I invited lots and lots of single people in my age group and tell the hotel we're coming and ask a few people to show up early to greet the guests and then I just stand back and watch it happen. I'm not an artist, more of a thinker and doer, but there are times when I can imagine what it must be like to create a beautiful painting. The hotel lounge fills up with people, one by one and two by two, and each person adds a new color and flavor to the mix, creating a constantly changing painting all night long. Or at least until midnight when the band stops. Oh, there were a few complaints, since the band was playing blues and not rock-and-roll and they were a bit loud, but I asked them for dance music and they rocked and then we all danced and had fun and laughed. And isn't that just good medicine? The women were beautiful, the men were handsome, and the band sounded fine.
And then, on an even balmier Sunday, I went to a really nice yoga class taught by the delightful Jennie at the Total Women gym in Northridge (yes, the site of 1994 earthquake, which we who live here aren't likely to ever forget) and then the very patient new boyfriend took me to a concert that was one of the over 335 concerts all over the world that were dedicated as part of the Sixth Annual Daniel Pearl World Music Days network. Both professional and amateur artists performed as part of the musical movement promoting tolerance, international friendship and "Harmony for Humanity". It was a lively eclectic mix, from classical to jazz to ethnic music and dance that was spirited and heartfelt and lovely. I can't possibly imagine the loss of a child, but Judea and Ruth Pearl, while mourning the death of their journalist son by terrorists, created a foundation to honor him by using music to promote tolerance and respect for differences. A lovely and moving time was had by all lucky enough to attend. I imagine we'd all hope that our lives would have meaning, both while we live and after we're gone.
I ended this lovely weekend by watching Desperate Housewives in bed and it was really silly and I felt refreshed and renewed and ready for a new week. And when I woke up today, it was still balmy in Chatsworth, but the wind has stopped, replaced by a bright sun and blue skies. Look around, I say, it's good to be alive.
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