Mysteries

While there's been a whole long list of things I haven't been able to do the past three weeks, one of things I could do was "fuzzy thinking." That's where  you are on cold medicine and in-between sleep comas, you start thinking of unrelated things. Usually it's pretty funny and I often do "fuzzy thinking" each morning before coffee, so this wasn't a new thing.

One of the topics is: there is only one Irish bar. Oh, you may think you're walking into O'Doherty's in Spokane or Katie Mullen's in Denver, or some random pub in New York, but no. It's all the same bar with many different doors.

When I was in the Czech Republic this summer, one day I was completely freaked out. I was lost, my Czech is terrible and as I rounded a corner, I ran into the one Irish pub. Same dim lights. Same wooden bar. Same soccer games on t.v. narrated in English. Same cute bartender with the slightest hint of an accent (the gender of the cute bartender seems to be based on what you like....I always get a cute guy while other folks always get a cute girl). I sat down and had some of the same Irish beer on tap and got diretions back to my group.

No matter where you are in the world, when you are lost and confused and uncomfortable, around the next corner that pub will be there. Full of potatoes and beer. Yet no one ever seems to notice that it's always the same pub. Mysteries.

Another topic is: no matter how large a stage is, there is always some uneasiness between the cellos and violas about space. This happens every. single. time. Even in a quartet performance, where four people are on the stage. Somehow the cellist and violist enter into each other's bubble and we end up needing to shift our chairs around.

It happened last night during the orchestra concert. The stage was quite large, but throughout the whole concert all the cellists and violists kept shifting around. I know we take up large amounts of space (and we SO aren't welcome back near the basses who take up the most...they always have strong boundaries). I just enjoy very much the constant ebb and flow of chair shifting and how I've performed concerts on large stages with far less elbow room than I've had in tiny little pit orchestras. Mysteries.

And to round out this little blog of fuzzy thinking, a third topic is: Legs. I was sitting somewhere recently waiting for someone (I don't remember details because of fuzzy thinking) and due to a big sign in the way, I could only see folks from the knees down. I sat for a while trying to guess which pair of knees was my friend and I realized that I haven't had to do this sort of identification since I was like 5 or 6. When you are super little, you know what pants your parents wear each day and what shoes they have on, because that's what you see.

It turns out that I'm no longer very good at knee identification. But little kids are. That's not really a mystery, just good observation.

And these are just three bits of fuzzy thinking I've done the past three weeks. However, I'm on all sorts of kick-ass medicine and am feeling more real each day. One awesome thing is that I'm currently finding just about everything funny. The theory is that laughing would make me have an overly dramatically annoying coughing fit and that I was pretty stupid with cold medicine and neither of these things is fun. Now (finally) my sense of humor is coming back on line. I've been assured that I'm not at my "pre-sick level of funny, but you'll get back there. Maybe." and I retorted that he "just wasn't laughing at the right laughter level in response to my jokes." Mysteries.

An Erinku (medicated):

When medical folk ask

what medicines I'm on

I make up names - I can't remember (Morkabloxin? Carpadercin? Hellamedicine?)

They sigh and look it up themselves