Author: Stacy Horn

Ugh. It happened Monday afternoon, and was the result of doing something very stupid while exercising. The ER found one minor fracture, but they wanted me to followup with an orthopedist to check an area they couldn’t see. Since that was where it hurt the most I was pretty sure the orthopedist would find another break. I’ll know later today, but it started feeling a lot better yesterday, and even better today, so maybe there isn’t another break!

I’ve been taking it easy with exercising though. Yesterday I took a long walk, and today I’ll probably do some low impact something. Or nothing at all! What do you think about that, poor-judgement-while-exercising self?

A photo shoot I passed by on my walk.

My choir occasionally gets together to sing under one of the arches on Central Park (for the resonance). We spread out in a circle, wearing our masks, and we do our best. It’s very nice and I appreciate that these are organized by our director (that’s him on the right in the first shot). That said, I cannot wait to get back to regular rehearsals, where we practice week after week, and where we can really hear each other, and truly feel that sensation of harmony, as we perfect whatever it is we’re working on.

I am about to start my yearly Spring Cleaning. As readers of my blog know, I make a very big deal about spring (and holiday) cleaning. It’s exhausting, but there’s nothing more peaceful than a thoroughly—and I mean thoroughly—clean house.

Bodhi relaxing on my desk, arms extended.

Every once in a while I have this conversation in my head:

Me: Everything’s going to be okay.
Me: Well, probably. It usually is, but …
Me: Yeah, there is most definitely going come a day when it won’t be okay.
Me: Forever.
Me: Jesus. And there’s just no fucking way around it.
Me: Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Me: Maybe the people who believe in ghosts are right.
Me:
Me: Yeah.
Me: Don’t think about it.
Me: It’s all we have.

A storm was brewing while I ran my errands this morning.

Walking home from work last week I came upon a forsythia bush and a dogwood tree. Instant wash of nostalgia. The good nostalgia. The only thing that could have made it better would have been spurts of wild violets, grape hyacinths, tiger lilies, and rocks with salamanders underneath. Okay, and ponds and rivers and stars at night.