Orchestrating the Plan

A choral director—the same one who said, while pounding the piano top for emphasis, “Soft and synonymous are not slow!”—often directed us to taper the musical phrase, to avoid socking the final note with such effort that it destroys the aesthetic you’ve worked to establish. "Never bu-UMP the last note in the phrase," he'd say.

So it is with planning. Yes, this is me talking. How many years and how many moves/trips/parties has it taken to pound that fact into my head?! With nine days to go (yikes), I’ve gotten the big things out of the way. The car purrs after engine and brake work; LLBean delivered my order including the new purple rolling duffel; motel reservation confirmations rest in chronological order in my loose-leaf binder; piles of items to be packed grow on top of the dresser; and I’ll get new tires and a stout X-style tire iron this week. Remaining tasks seem small by comparison: vacuum the apartment, pack away the over-sized pitchers and salad bowl that hang out on top of the refrigerator, farm out the one remaining African violet, make some sense out of the linen closet, take out the recycling.

My plan—I live to plan—is to have all the big stuff, the major tasks accomplished by next Sunday (D-Day minus three). The last two days before I leave for Alaska will generate their own frenzied activity, and if I’m still trying to cope with the major tasks, that gnatty swarm of last-minute details will bu-UMP my excitement straight into anxiety. Which, if you’ll recall that first posting in March, I’m trying to leave out of this adventure.

I know for a certainty that no one was ever hospitalized by an encounter with a 1/16th note, but no piece ever ends with one, either. So, let’s aim at a pleasing arched phrase to end the prelude…and then the segue to the road early May 19.