So, tonight's the night. I've been practicing my fingers to the bone. Or at least to the fingernail. I draw the line at cutting my nails for an open mike. My violin teachers are shuddering right now. Come to think of it, so are my manicurists. Well, they would be if I had manicurists.

It's looking like Mr. Spy will not be coming with me, which is sad. But I've bailed out on this particular friend so many times already, that I really don't feel like I can do it again just because we can't find a babysitter. Poor Mr. Spy. On the other hand, there tends to be a lot of Springsteen at these things and he can't stand Springsteen, so maybe it's just as well. And I'm sure I can use Mr. Spy's non-attendance as a graceful way to duck out early if the evening's a bust.

The clouds are finally parting, the puddles in the driveway are shrinking, the flowers are blooming, the birdsongs are echoing throughout the valley that hugs our house. There is the appearance of motion at all times, things are moving, happening, changing, growing, and I feel like it's all I can do to keep up and stay one step behind. At night I collapse into bed and sleep under heavy dreams, so tired I can hardly move even as I wonder at the feeling that I haven't done a thing.

AJ will come home from school today to find a new basketball hoop, just his size, standing in the driveway. It has been sitting in pieces in our garage since his birthday as we tried to sort out the incomprehensible directions for assembly. We finally hired a professional and it is done. AJ will play basketball this afternoon. I will play fiddle tonight. We are moving forward and staying the same. Because it's spring.

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