Seaweed Chronicles

I am going to India .. .

Delhi, Varanasi, Agra, Jaipur, Pushkar, Khajuraho, Nagarkot,  all of these names that roll off of my tongue . . . I can't wait.  

I have wanted to go for as long as I can remember.  I have had books on India spread around the house, and a dozen years ago my daughter started to mention "I want to go with you when you go."  I laughed and told her she had no idea . . . 

She kept saying she wanted to go, and she would browse through the books on the coffee table and say it looked nice.  I kept telling her "You have no idea.  You don't know what it's like. . . " 

But neither did I, really.  I had read a lot, dreamed a lot, asked a lot of questions.  I was convinced I wanted to go, but still doubted my daughter's intent.  So I dared her.  And in the process, dared myself.  

"If you still want to go when you graduate college, I'll take you."

So there.  It was written in air.

My, how quickly those semesters passed.  When she'd completed five of them and was beginning the sixth (aka last half of junior year), she was still asking about the trip, and I started looking into it.  The research was time consuming - India is a big country, and it took a while to decide what highlights were important, what area of the country they were in, and what weather we wanted to endure.  But finally an itinerary began to form, and I found a company that specialized in assisting in our type of endeavor, and by the time my daughter started the last semsester of senior year, we had tickets and rooms and camel rides all booked.

We'll be there for nearly three weeks, six cities, a few days in Nepal as a bonus.  The Taj Majal, the Ganges, the Himalaya, the Camel Fair.  Diwali!    

She is now a week away from finishing her final finals.  

And we are are seven months away from India.   Trip of a lifetime.   

We are going.  To India! 

 

Lessons learned but not taught

My daughter sent me a text a few days ago saying "I just noticed my ring is not on my finger. I feel like crying : (" 

She was talking about the claddagh ring I gave her on the day she graduated from high school.  And that requires a note of clarification right off.  

My family is not really big on graduations, or monetary rewards, or huge gifts, or things like that.  We don't make a big deal out of one of our kids "graduating" from kindergarten, or primary school, or sixth grade.  Finishing high school is something worth acknowledging with a card or a phone call, but we've just never seen fit to recognize these stepping stones as celebrations.  They're just things you need to get done, is all.  

When my daughter graduated high school, I gave her a claddagh ring.  Kind of redundant for a mother to give her child, eh?  A symbol of love, friendship, loyalty?  I always thought they were a bit of a cliche.  But I found a really unique one somewhere, and gave it to my daughter as a gift on her graduation day.    

She loved it.  She put it on, and left it there.  Every once in a while there was some reason to point it out, mention the fact that she had it on, or comment on how different it was, but mostly it was just there on her hand.  Symbolizing whatever it symbolized for her.  

And another four years passed in the blink of an eye, and now she is a few weeks away from finishing college.  She's done really well - I don't have to worry about her if something unfortunate happens to me.  She's proven that she can ride the waves, figure things out, get by.  But the lost ring . . . she was upset.  

And therein lies the lesson I want my children to learn most, after they learn basic survival skills anyway:  most of the time, it's just a thing.  Whatever value you place on it is nice, but losing it should not cause you pain.  If the loss does cause you to hurt, acknowledge that and move on. Please don't put too much value in things,  You can usually replace any THING you ever thought you owned.   Instead of worrying about losing things, spend time with people that mean something to you.  Do things that will provide you with great memories. Learn stuff. Take pictures, write notes, tell stories. 

Carpe Diem, not Carpe stuff.    

Testing, testing . . .

So I couldn't get the hammered dulcimer thing out of my head.  The CPA tax wizard lady managed to work a little bit of magic, but then BLAMMO, she offset that with her spectacular fees.   Still, I rationalized buying an expensive new musical instrument because:

- it's beautiful!

- it's good mental therapy!

- it's good physical therapy!

- it's an investment that I can always sell if needed!

So I decided to check one out but lo, there ain't one within an hour of here.  So we're driving just over one hour tomorrow morning to visit this place where they happen to have three or four that I can test drive.

I'm not convinced I'm going to get one.  But the more I see, the more I like.  Love.   

 

Hammered

Yeah, not what it sounds like.   It's been a rough few weeks and last week, particularly so.  As mentioned in the post below.  I had a bit more time lately to stay tuned in to what other blog and facebook friends were doing, and noticed someone bought tickets to a show by a rather . . .  esoteric? . . . band.  I ended up loving their stuff after listening to a few tunes, and was particularly captivated by the hammered dulcimer played by the female lead singer. 

Hammered dulcimer.  Never heard of it before.  Dulcimer, yes.  Hammered?  Nope.  Not what I usually think of when I picture playing a musical instrument.  Except, maybe, the drums?  And I WAS a drummer for a while there.

So this hammered dulcimer thing grabbed my attention.  I did a few days' worth of research and quickly became infatuated, then tumbled head over heels in love with the danged things.  I've seen about every youtube clip there is (let's not mention the silly unicorns and fairies, shall we? thanks).  I do LOVE this instrument even if I haven't played it yet. It provides the perfect blend of melody and percussion.  It has Celtic roots. And Indian. And others.    

But oy, they're not cheap.  Not mass-produced. Not available to borrow, try out, rent, or sub-let. In fact, they are manufactured only on order, it seems.  There are a few kit makers, but I wouldn't bother.  Most of the advice I've seen says if you're already a musician, and particularly if you know stringed instruments like the piano, you should buy the best you can afford right away.  (No, they don't say just how to buy one for $20 . . . ) 

So I'm waiting to see what the CPA lady wizard says about our awful tax situation this year.  If it isn't as bad as I thought (in other words, as it was when I did the $0 DIY TaxAct version at my desk here at home), maybe there will be some spare funds to put towards this thing that has captured my attention. This is . . .  

THE CLIP THAT GOT ME HOOKED.

I think I'll have a new hobby soon. And if I can't learn the hammered dulcimer, I know at least I can play the drums and dance like the guy in the red shirt in the back row in the video.