Shifting Sands...

Hello Bloggerinis!!!

Summer months seemed to fly by, as they usually do.  I do love summer.  I think growing up in the Sun City had a lot to do with that.  We have summer about 7 months of the year.  I remember having to buy a winter coat when off to college and then having to upgrade said coat when my journey brought me to the east coast.  The first day of truly warm weather is a holiday in my book.  Sleeveless blouses, shorts and well worn trusty converse sneaks are my uniform and I bask in the warm glow of the sun.  I love to swim and this summer afforded me some spectacular beach time.  Having a beau who lives 5 minutes from the beach has its advantages.  September is barreling down here in NYC and in true east coast fashion this is the hottest week we've had thus far.

So typical for an east coast vibe.  We simply refuse to do what  we are told, when we are told it and in a fashion the rest of the country would deem appropriate.  Such a difficult and petulant place NYC can be.  While some things seem so easy, others can just drain the life out of you.  Think your local DMV, Friday 4:30 pm times 250, ALL THE TIME.  I celebrated 14 years in NYC this past weekend.  I was in Philly for 8 before that. I've officially lived on the east coast longer than I have in Texas.  An odd milestone to realize given my deep roots in the Lone Star State.  I suppose with my transient lifestyle I always thought I'd return to Texas.  I might, but I won't be the same Texan I was when I left.  I'm burnished, frayed, and informed by the patina of living in a city that is at once miraculous and in the blink of an eye so difficult that swimming through honey seems a less daunting task.

There is a restlessness in the air here these days. The world seems to be imploding on itself and I find myself so distracted by world events and the cruelty we inflict on each other.  I will never understand it.  I could rant for paragraphs about ideologies and power struggles but it would be nothing new.  What is new is the creeping sense that times are truly "a-changing".  I've noticed others in my Facebook realm comment on this niggling feeling.  I wonder if the collective "we" have a deep intuition that is mostly untapped.  Imagine the power of banding to together to realize this shift and move seamlessly together to a new more peaceful paradigm. Evolution at it's highest form.  New York is a good example of the conundrum that faces our evolving world.  It is a city that is chock full of people looking out only for themselves, yet needing the power of the millions to make it through their day successfully.  Taking the time to extend just the tiniest droplet of kindness would improve things exponentially.  Small changes made by large groups of population can help stabilize this ever shifting beach we are traversing.

So how about it dear friends.  Let's make a pledge to be just a little bit kinder.  It might seem foreign at first but like any new and worthy endeavor it will become second nature in no time!  Let us be the change, let us take back the power, let US grow this world into the paradise we know it can be.  The first step is to think outside of our apartment walls and reach out, if only in the tiniest way.  I have faith we can do this.

~Mel

The loss of a great one

Hello readers.

I'm sad to announce that Maestro Lorin Maazel passed away this morning.  I'm still in a bit of a shock at the news.  He was so supportive of me and my career.  I spent three summers at the Castleton Festival and I treasure them.  The following in an excerpt of my original "city gal diaries" from my time on the farm.  The diaries were the precursor to this blog and only a select few got these emails.  It sums up my time in Castleton well and the generous spirit of this amazing man.

Well, himself is here.  Everything has changed and I can tell you dear friends I have never been so happy to see someone in my life!  Well, maybe that is a bit of an overstatement but I'm down right giddy.  The run went very well yesterday and he was pleased.  The orchestra arrived yesterday morning from Japan.  They are a college age group and arrived exhausted and not speaking much English.  They have an interpreter with them, thank the good Lord.

Last night they had their first orchestra rehearsal.  The poor kids were so tired, I can only imagine how they felt.  We were invited to quietly watch the rehearsal from the balcony.  The assistant conductor, who is awesome, ran the rehearsal with Maestro sitting right behind him leading the way.  I did not envy Tim this task but he handled it with grace and aplomb.  At one point a most hilarious game of "telephone" ensued.  Maestro would give a note to Tim then Tim to the interpreter and then the interpreter to the tired, jet lagged orchestra.  Maestro doesn't miss anything and the game went on for hours.  It was one of the most amazing things I've ever witnessed.  Each tuning issue, bowing change and tempi discussion was truly a just reminder of why I do what I do.  

I sat in the darkened balcony and watched music being forged and shaped in a most intriguing and satisfying way.  They worked so hard to make each note correct.  Truth be told they weren't quite up to snuff and aren't now but they were receptive and seemed to absorb the telephone game with some success.  I watched my score as the notes simply came to life and danced across the page.  The orchestration for this piece was done by Benjamin Britten.  While we, the singers, are intoning John Gay's vision the orchestra is bringing Britten's mastery to the plate.  It is a heady combination and my mind swam with the melodies and possibilities of this most unique show. 

I've learned many valuable lessons during my tenure in this crazy biz but perhaps one of the most was reinforced by my dear Pavarotti.  He insisted everyone be in the theatre for every rehearsal.  It didn't matter if we were in that scene or not, hence my first hand knowledge of Tosca Act III.  We sat there and watched our colleagues and our music staff create art.  In this time of cookie cutter, fast food culture, sometimes we don't think about what it truly takes to do what it is that we do.  I'm so happy that chose to attend this rehearsal.  It was not mandatory and no one is the wiser but this afternoon when Maestro takes the stick at our Sitzprobe I will know that my first piece is only accompanied by one horn player until the oboe obbligato.  I will know that the percussiveness of the piano will be replaced by a much smoother and quieter harp.  These little school notes are not the true lesson though.  I spent 3 and half hours in the presence of one of our great musical minds.  Call me greedy but I am going to steal as many moments of that mind as I possibly can.  I know Pav would be proud and I will have rekindled a musical spirit within me that many years of Holiday Inns and Comfort Suites have beaten out of me.

Rest well and God's speed Maestro.  I will miss you.

~Melsy

Beach Blanket Bingo!

I am truly a blessed woman.  Counting all of them would take days and I have committed myself to keeping a grateful attitude.  It's easier said than done at times.  But even in the face of life's little bugaboos I really am focusing on the positive side.

As some of you may have gleaned I have a new love in my life.  He's truly a blessing and we are simply having just the best time! Part of this experience was a wonderful Christmas gift of a cruise to the Caribbean.  Well, dear friends, I am fresh off the boat, sun kissed, relaxed, over fed and laughed out beyond belief.  We had such a great time!  Let me touch on just a few highlights and special moments from out experience.

We sailed from NYC.  This was nothing short of magical!  I have cruised before but never from just down the road and let me tell you.....life changing!  Brad and I hopped a taxi to the pier and were having a nosh and a pina colada within the hour.  We were blessed with lovely weather the day we sailed and I was able to capture some wonderful pictures of the new Freedom tower. I have seen it up close but not from the water and it is powerful addition to our fair city.

We spent the next few days at sea.  Because of the time of year and the amount of water we needed to cover it was a rough few days.  Thankfully my dear sister gave me some patches and I would not have been able to enjoy these days without them.  I am prone to sea sickness and this smoothed the rough edges.  These few days we got to experience the glorious transition from winter to warmer summer air.  The moist sun filled air soothed me to the core.  I know I'm preaching to the choir here but this winter has simply sucked the life out of NYC, and more specifically me.  Between the icy sidewalks, snowy banks and grey skies, topped off by my recent injuries have left me with  dirty dishwater disposition and a pallor worthy of any Dickensian novel. I needed this brightening up and am so grateful for the trip.

Our first port o' call was beautiful Old San Juan, Puerto Rico.  Sadly we had a very short amount to time to explore the city.  Brad has been to Puerto Rico many times and knew of a wonderful restaurant famous for it's deep fried Red Snapper.  We hopped a cab and in no time were darkening the door of El Jibaritto.  The charming atmosphere, ice diet cokes and delectable fish was a real treat.  Here's a picture of our friend.

Before:

And After:

Next up was picturesque St. Maarten.  I have never travelled to the Carribean before and I was simply enchanted with the beautiful crystal waters and soothing air.  The weather was flawless.  A perfect 85 degrees with expansive blue skies.  We spent the day at the wonderful Divi resort were we met a new friend.

This is Gizmo:

It is his restaurant and here we munched on fresh grilled shrimp.  The gorgeous water simply beckoned us and I tried to bust out my best tropical fashion:

It was an extraordinary day and I could begin to feel the icy winter leave my bones.  Bit by bit I was defrosting.  I will never forget the color of these waters.  My Father calls it "Disneyland Water".  He's right and I am pretty convinced that little island gnomes creep into the night and dye the water this azure potion.

The next day we hit St. Thomas.  One spectacular view after another.  We opted to cab it to Magen's bay, one of the top rated beaches in the world.  We hoped on a beach shuttle and were treated to a little tour of the island.  I always love to step off of the beaten path and I did enjoy seeing a little bit of the local scene.  I'd love to go back to St. Thomas. The people, the air, the water and the fresh seafood are on the top of my list.  One surprise was that my cell phone worked here!  It is a US territory and frankly my reception was better here than in NYC!  I was able to facetime with Dad for a bit and he got to see this astounding beach.  It was as if he was with me for a bit.  I cannot wait to take him here someday.  What a marvel technology can be!

Our next day was spent exploring a new port for Norwegian cruise line.  Samana, Dominican Republic is one of the most undeveloped sections of the Island.  Brad and I being the adventurers that we were chose to forge our own way and hit the pier running.  They have no formal pier so we were shuttled by boat to a small docking station.  This process is called tendering.  We caught an early tender and found ourselves bombarded by the local shop keepers and taxi drivers.  We did a little shopping and Brad really got into negotiating for items.  It was fun.  We found a "taxi" to take us to one of the local beaches.  I use this term lightly.  It was basically a metal cart attached to a moped!  They took us to Annabel beach where we enjoyed another delicious snapper, cold presidente beer and warm beautiful water for a delicious swim.  

We tendered back to the island around 3:00 pm for a 4 pm sail time. While on the tender I noticed a beautiful older woman with absolutely stunning hands and fingernails.  Her fingers were dotted with tasteful diamonds and a lovely coral bracelet.  I noticed her right away.  She was wearing crisp white slacks and a colorful cotton blouse.  In other words, she was my Mom, if Mom had lived to see her 80's.  I was truly gobsmacked by my reaction to seeing this elegant woman.  She was with her sprightly husband and was enjoying every minute of our short tender journey.  I mused on the immense injustice of my Mother's early passing.  She and Dad should have been with Brad and I . Laughing, haggling and exploring uncharted territory.  I cry foul, universe, FOUL!  Luckily, sunburned cheeks and sunglasses hid my misty moment.  I was shocked at my reaction.  I just couldn't take my eyes off this stunning woman. She was a vision and a little embodiment of Mother and her love to travel and tasteful Caribbean haberdashery.  I never saw her again on this trip and I like to think she was placed in my eye line to let me physically enjoy the presence of Mom.   

The following days at sea were filled with Bingo, slot tourneys, craps table adventures, deck lounging, steak consuming and book devouring.  All in all the week was just what the doctor ordered.  One of my favorite things was returning to our cabin from an evening of reggae and colada's to a towel animal placed in our cabin by our steward.  Here are a couple of my most favorite:

We returned this morning to this love letter from NYC:

This is the very deck where I was luxuriating a mere 24 hours before.  It was a charming surprise actually because at my core I feel this:

Which has a lot to do with this:

Thank you, my sweet, for helping this ice princess to melt.

Asking....

Isn't it amazing how time flies?  It slips from our fingers like tiny, slippery grains of sand.  6 months since my last entry and so many wonderful things have entered my life. Adventures, triumphs and even a new love have engulfed me like a welcoming warm blanket. I promise more detail about these things in the near future but today I need to talk about my recent experience with, that ever sexy and  titillating  subject....sciatic nerve pain.

A little over 3 weeks ago I woke up with a little tension in my lower back.  Nothing out of the ordinary caused this pain, no heavy rock lifting or super human antics.  Just sleep.  Yes, I was betrayed by my fancy new bed.  I suppose I should have kept the bag of rocks and straw I'd been sleeping on. Well, hindsight..and all that jazz.  By that evening I was couched and flat on my back wincing at every little twist and turn.  It hurt when I was still, it hurt when I was moving, you get my point.  The next morning I simply could not get out of bed.  I truly thought that it would vanish with a little advil and a good nights sleep.  That day is when my numb toes arrived and I knew I was having my first attack of sciatica.  My Father has suffered with this condition for years and I've watched him struggle and fight through it like the true champion he is.  I had no idea this is what he was going through and now have first hand knowledge of his experience. It is dreadful.  I spent the next few days holed up and suffering. Remember, dear friends, I live on the 3rd floor of a walk up building. I was trapped.  Ron was on a gig and I was alone in the house.  I think it took me 3 or 4 days to admit to anyone that I was down for the count.  Even then I kept a lot of the gruesome details to myself.  Suffering in a self pity soup for days on end.  Miserable.  Lots of screaming, tears and "why mes" rained down upon the streets of upstate manhattan.

I was well cared for on the weekends by my wonderful beau, Brad. He was a force of nature, cooking, cleaning, shopping and ice bagging for me.  What a blessing he is.  The weekdays were much harder.  Although I really did not want any witnesses to my situation I admit those days dragged on.  I've never been confined to bed for so long.  More than two minutes on my feet brought on an excruciating radiation of pain down my leg.  Think charlie horse, times 10.  Unbearable.

During these past few weeks the anniversary of my Mother's passing occurred.  It seems unbelievable that 3 years have passed so quickly.  That elusive life beach of slippery sand flows so quickly. My thoughts rest with Mom so often.  Even more during this period.  My Mother spent the better part of the last year of her life in bed.  After her first surgery she never fully healed and the disease just attacked her from every angle and took her from us one piece at a time.  In this time I never once saw my Mother reduced to the places I went these past weeks.  I saw her frustrated, angry and hesitant but honestly, the full blown melt down I experienced was not pretty folks.  I'm sure Mom had her private moments.  But, her strength and grace were simply outer worldly and I have no idea how she survived it for as long as she did.  Simply put, she was the strongest person I've ever known.

The worst betrayal in the world in one that involves your own body.  I've been a lucky woman.  I'm generally healthy and strong.  I've had a few spills on stage but for the most part I've been so fortunate.  I was simply at a loss when Ron returned home.  Stuck in bed for weeks and the pain just seemed to persist in a most pervasive way.  No relief, even with drugs, stretching, rest, ice...it all just seemed so futile.

Then I stepped outside of my comfort zone and did something I rarely do.  I posted about it on facebook.  Within a few minutes my inbox and comments were filled with well wishes, prayers and suggestions for doctors, acupuncturist, massage therapists etc.  It was a miracle.  I cannot understate this.  I don't speak about my faith very often.  It is such a personal journey for me.  God and I spent a lot of time together these few weeks.  Mostly me screaming and questioning.  Bringing up biblical healing and wondering what I had done to be forsaken so.  I never claimed not to be a drama queen, even one of biblical proportions.  When the deafening silence became to much I broke down and vented into cyberspace and every prayer was answered.  I've now met a most amazing massage therapist who comes to my apartment to help me.  He's a good Texas boy, West Texas A&M graduated, TEXAS musical veteran, and I can not overstate how valuable our sessions have been.  I now have connections to all sorts of professionals to help me with this issue.

As a singer I play my cards very close to my vest when it comes to personal matters.  It seems so strange to be in a profession that demands emotional vulnerability on stage and autonomy off of it.  It's also just in my nature to be private and not ask anything of anyone.  It's an art form, asking for help, and I am not a very good artist when it comes to that.  I suppose I equate it to weakness which is something I abhor, especially in myself. My perspective has changed. God did heal me, in a most unexpected way.  He broke down one of my most impenetrable walls and led me to ask for help. This is much bigger than a little jolt to my hip.  Mysterious ways are his trademark.

As to my healing, I'm better.  Still sore, and mornings are an adventure but I'm walking and even have left the apartment, once.  It was 22 degrees and snow filled and the most beautiful day I've experienced!   I have a gig next week, Beethoven's wonderful 9th symphony, and I know I will be just fine.  Now to transfer my new found help seeking skills into my everyday life.  I would never balk at helping anyone in need in anyway I can.  It is absurd to shirk at the idea of reaching out myself.  I'm a believer folks and I have one almighty power to thank for putting all you amazing people in my life.