Sounds of Summer Mornings

This is my last morning waking up with all my blankets!  Tomorrow, I'll be waking up with either no blankets or all of my blankets piled Desdemona style on top of me plus Doug's blankets.  Doug's coming home tonight from Camp Rainbow Gold.

The first sound I hear on summer mornings is the frantic meowing of Callie, who loves to be outside at night but must be part vampire because she spazzes and starts wailing when the sun comes up.  She learned from Calvin and Charlie to peek in the window well to our downstairs bedroom and meow at us.  I learned to hide under my blankets or throw a pillow in the window; if she can't see me, she quits moaning.

Summer mornings are full quiet anticipation of upcoming possibilities.  At 5:00, when I finally tire of Callie and get our of bed for breakfast and (when I'm my best) study, I hear nothing but the sounds of my furry entourage: purring, a tail thumping happily on the carpet of my craft/study room.  Possibly joined by the sound of food boiling over on the stove.  Sometimes Callie gets her poofie and I hear her little bubble blowing noises as she waits for me to throw it again and again.  Callie, the cat, is a master fetch player.

Monday, Thursday and Saturdays, the first human voice I hear is the voice of Tawnya.  We enjoy talking all about kids and life.  Since there is a dog with us, our conversation goes like this, "That's the cutest!  Did you get a picture? HEEL TUG!!! Yes, it's a marvelous job.  I'm so blessed. TUG!!! FOR THE LOVE!! YOU'RE PULLING OFF MY ARM!!  MOMMY SAID HEEL!!  Yes, Doug said so too..."

Some mornings are spa mornings.  I play Christian music on my way to Ahhsome Spa.  At the spa, the background music is Jim Brickman, Debussy, David Lanz and some weird electronic mood music they find relaxing (the most obnoxious is synthesized singing monks... of ALL the music in the world, they had to pick that...).  All I can hear is the hum of other people's machines, the occasional sigh of comfort when a massage chair gets just the right spot, and the beeping of somebody changing the settings on their foot machine.  Occasionally I hear a snort when somebody wakes up from a fish tank and moves to a jade chair.  I hear the pages of my own book's pages turning and my own pen clicking as I scribble edits into my novel or add thoughts to my Sunday School lesson plan.

Some mornings are music mornings.  I usually practice in the basement at work, starting around 8:30.  I worry about practicing at home because if I get too sucked into my playing, I may lose track of time and be late.  At work, I hear the beeps of the keypad unlocking the door, the beeping of the security system, the "System Disarmed: Ready to Arm", then I run downstairs and make noises on my violin, or music on my accordion, until I hear the footsteps of my coworkers or the beep of the microwave heating up my second breakfast (always eat at 5:00 then again at 8:45ish).

Wednesdays are Gold's Gym mornings.  I hear techno versions of hymns in my head while I filter out the suggestive tracks in Body Pump class.  I enjoy the clean songs and the wordless ones.  I hear the clink of barbells and the voice of my spunky, instructor, Michelle.  I hear my muscles thanking me for using them.  Afterwards, I talk Rock Tape and chiropractic with the lady with the bunion who noticed my taped ankles.  I hear my clearest, slowest version of my speech.  After class, I run laps around the gym.  It takes ten laps, dodging treacherous obstacles (big men marinated in strong colognes carrying barbells), to run a mile.  I hear the sound of my own feet, and I hear my mind yelling gratitude for the day my chiropractor straightened my leg so I could run!

Some mornings are cleaning mornings, delicious with the thump thump of the unbalanced but amazing Bosch washer, and the hum of our first dishwasher, the roar of the vacuum and accompanying jingling collars of retreating kitties scared out of their wits when the broom comes out.

I think today feels like a swimming morning.  I'm off to the Aquatic Center.  I check Lindsey Stirling's pre-ordered album for new songs to download then rock out to her new song on repeat, singing along, on my way to the Aquatic Center.  I love the sound of the water rushing by my ears as I swim my laps.  I like how voices of the distant class of retirees echos off the walls.  After my laps and hot tub soak, I hear the refreshing shower in the locker room and the conversation of retirees discussing health concerns, civic activities and genealogy.

My three and a half hours of deliciously indulgent personal prep for the day end at the office.  Im the last few minutes before I clock in, I pick out whatever I'm craving musically on Pandora: traditional Turkish, Peruvian pan pipes, French accordion, Dvorak, Piano Guys... whatever suits me at the moment.  I answer the early bird phone calls and hear the voices of patients I love.  I recognize each team member by how she opens the door and how heavy she steps on the tile.  When the clock strikes 9, off goes my music and on comes Air 1,  The office bustles to life in preparation for a wonderful day of service.

We recently read a book with a chapter about being audio, visual or kinesthetic learners.  I'm an audio learner; words and sounds stick in my memory.  So it's important to fill my mind with words and sounds I love!  They are my fuel for the day.