2) I still don't shake too badly after such a startling moment until I've come to a safe place, and even then not too long. Made it to the store I'd been headed for (still several miles away at that point) but noticed I was twitchier than usual on the way. Then sat in the car in the parking lot for a minute or two until my legs quit feeling like overboiled spaghetti.
3) Even in the midst of a Williams-Sonoma outlet lavishly decorating for the holidays, I can look at but not buy such things as the gorgeous wild turkey napkins (full color. Gorgeous. Overpriced for my budget, but gorgeous.) I went in with four things on the list, and came out with four things. No, despite the way pot manufacturers count things, the lid for a pot that comes with a lid is not another thing. It's part of that pot. The pot of the day was a 4 quart soup pot (All-Clad.) A jar of demi-glace, a molded baking pan (puts a pretty patterned top on quick breads--or should), a pumpkin-pecan-quickbread mix. Four things.
4) Even in the midst of a large Office Max full of enticing paper/pens/calendars/desk organizers/useful stuff I don't really need, I came out with the one thing on my list: ink cartridges for the printer. Two stores, two exhibitions of self-control. (This self-control was somewhat dented by the last shopping of the day, in a grocery store on the way home. I called my husband to see if he had any particular needs at that store, and, well, somehow a package of three big chocolate-chip muffins hopped into my shopping cart, pretty much canceling out the lack of calories in club soda.)
5) My voice teacher/coach/Svengali is a genius. This is not a new discovery, but that he is still doing things that make my voice (which, after all, is 66 now) not just slighter better, but amazingly better. He gets tones out of my voice that I never knew existed (and they're good ones. That's the shock.) And it's not just the voice. It's the rest of music stuff that I'm learning. The old dog can indeed learn new tricks. (HOW high was that note? And is that voice I'm hearing really mine?) If I wanted to torture myself with lost opportunities, I'd focus on how much better my voice could have been if I'd had voice lessons (from someone like him) in my twenties. But I'm not in the mood to torture myself...today is today and today I had a really good voice lesson and sang "If Music Be the Food of Love" (Purcell) Not perfectly. But SO much better.
Some discoveries are unpleasant (and I'm afraid the back door threshold is one such...it needs to be replaced. Also the progression of my cataracts that will require surgery.) But these--and especially the musical--are more than pleasant.