Raising the bar.

I just spent a very pleasant twenty minutes or so practising The Minute Waltz. There was just no way (I thought) that I would be able to play those hectic chords with the left hand.  Nevertheless, I kept at it for some reason, almost in a trance, morbidly fascinated by trying it out. And guess what? I’m starting to get it right! Not only that, but some memories are flooding back from when I was first learning to play it (nearly a decade ago) and I recall feeling all ‘butter-fingers’ back then too, when there was nothing wrong with me. What a relief. Look, I ain’t never gonna be no concert pianist, but then, I never was. Not nearly enough passion for it. I merely play to please myself, and the occasional friend/ family member who asks me to play. (No, really, I’ll play for you!)

I have no aspirations to play at Carnegie Hall, only dreams of lounge-lizardry. (Who said that? Was it you, mdmhvonpa?) Still, I’m having a ball. When I’m done with the waltz, I’ll be working on Danny Boy, for a nice relaxing number to play of an evening by candle-light.

Then the nice cheery American Patrol to irritate Michael, lol. (Although, darling, you have to admit that I do most of my practising when you aren’t home.)

I’m amazed at this whole process of testing my wings, raising the bar and challenging myself. I never would have thought myself capable of swimming 100 laps before I tried it. My problem is that I battle with something and immediately write it off as due to the ms. Which is not neccessarily true. There are few pianists (well, average ones) who wouldn’t battle at least a little bit with the Minute Waltz. It certainly doesn’t come automatically, one has to work at it. And the swimming. No-one just jumps into a pool after not exercising for three years and does 100 laps.

Of course, there are some things that I really can’t do. Such as hopping on one leg, come to think of it, ha ha.

I’m really loving the exercise. Not a trace of cellulite on my legs, and my stomach is at least half as toned as I want it to be. Now, to everyone’s relief, I can stop belly-aching about it. No pun intended.

I’m in a little bit of a pickle at the moment. Thing is, you all know about me and my fasting habits, which I’ve totally let slide at the moment. But. If I do go onto the trials and get the actual drug (which I will be testing for, I mean surely a lab could work out if it’s a sugar pill or not) then I won’t be able to fast for the two-year duration of the trials. So, if I want to do one, I’d better fit it in now, before trials commence. Not much time, especially since I haven’t done the pre-fast prep, which you’re supposed do for as long as you intend being on the actual fast. Yes, I’ve been sleeping on the job! Nor do I feel very inclined to start the prep now, because I want a nice plate of cooked food for dinner. Only yellow rice with raisins, baby potatoes, butternut and lightly steamed cabbage. (Yes, I know I’m weird, but cabbage is my favourite). Nothing wrong with that food, only I should ideally be having raw fruits, salads and juice to make the fast a lot less uncomfortable and more effective.

I’m not overly keen on partaking of the ‘roids. (yes, I will overuse that word now that I’ve discovered it!) But it’s either that or stuff my hips up from the word go again. My walking is becoming heavier and less co-ordinated, and that puts a lot of strain on the flowerchildren (hippies). Okay, that was a bit lame, but then again, so am I, ha ha. See, I’m finding myself too funny, better that I go for some cortisone 😉

I watched 50 First Dates this morning (again!) and cried like a prementrual woman on ‘roids. (okay, I’ll stop now, but only for the rest of the post). They actually mentioned the word ‘roids on the movie, just like that. Only surprised I didn’t pick it up the first time I watched that movie.

Now I have to go change the filter on my water-distiller so that if I do go on a fast, the water won’t taste completely yuck! 

Edited to add: There was a mahssive wasp busy circulating the room, trying to suicide-bomb my head! I managed not to freak out, mainly because I’m not really the type to freak over a wasp. (that would be locusts). Anyway, I opened the curtain for Walter (yes, I’ve taken to naming insects) and he just went zooming past, straight out the window. Smart bug!