Some of you may know that I (Lori) just had some minor surgery. No big deal, and I'm fine. But it does require that I spend a couple of days of rehab inside. No, not the kind Amy Winehouse vowed never to go to. My kind of rehab is way more fun than that. So far, it consists of the following 6-step program:
1. Read. (I read about 50 pages of Ann Patchett's novel "Truth and Beauty," a memoir about her friendship with poet Lucy Grealy -- I can't put it down.)
2. Relax. (I took a long, luxurious bath -- ok, I could put the book down.)
3. Sing. (I practiced the first two verses and one chorus of my new song, Soldier and Trumpet -- it's sort of a salute to my dad as well as a commentary about the various battlefields we encounter in life.)
4. Practice. I played the first twelve measures of Pachelbel's Canon in D. The first time through it wasn't even recognizable, so I decided to slow it down to about one note per second. That improved things. Now I could tell it was music. After playing it five times I finally got up to half-speed, with only a few F naturals. I'll work on that.
5. Eat. I made myself a banana orange pineapple vanilla ice cream smoothie and drank it in less time than it took to hold the "smoothie" button in.
6. Write. I decided to blog about my rehab experience. I thought about the word "rehab," and looked it up in the dictionary.
By the way, the word "rehab" is not in the dictionary. However, "rehabilitation" is in the dictionary. Did you know that "rehabilitation" comes from "habilitare," the Latin word for "habilitate," which comes from the Latin word for "able," which has to do with ability or skill, and comes from the Latin "habere" which means "to have" or "to hold"? So I guess rehabilitation means to repossess ability or "get smart." I think I should write a book, "Rehab for Dummies Who Want to Get Smart."
Now back to step 1.