On Running Late

I'm a hypocrite.

When it's time for me to leave for a gig, I'm always ready to walk out the door at least 15 minutes before I actually need to walk out the door, and that's including a 10 minute traffic buffer...so that I can arrive 20 minutes early. Being late is a mortal sin in the orchestra world. You can get away with a lot in the back few rows of the orchestra, but you must be on time. Everyone has a horror story about the one time they were late for a rehearsal. One friend was riding a train that broke down. Another wrote down the wrong start time and thought that the rehearsal started a half-hour later than it actually did. I was late once because I drove to the wrong rehearsal space. I've never actually known anyone who was late to a concert, but sometimes you hear the faint echo of a ghostly scream coming from the subterranean corridors below the concert hall, and I think that the wraiths of old conductors must be torturing a violist who was late for a pops concert. (Although, admittedly, it would be difficult to distinguish the sound of a violist being tormented from the sound a violist practicing.)

Otto Karl Shdenkenheim was music director from 1962-1968. Now a wandering spirit, he is best remembered for the extraordinary slumber he produced by programming every Haydn symphony during his tenure with the orchestra.

So this is why I always make sure that NO MATTER WHAT I will be on time to my rehearsals and concerts. And I'm a horrible hypocrite, because when J needs to get to a rehearsal, I show all the foresight and haste of a elderly yak. Sunday morning was just such an occasion. I'd had a concert the previous night and made a deliberate effort to procure the two grocery items I'd need for the following morning--coffee and shaving cream.

I was out of both, so between my rehearsal and show I wandered up and down Elmwood St. in Buffalo. I found shaving cream in a discount grocery store, but they didn't carry anything except plebian coffee. (I passed the plastic tubs of pre-ground Folgers and made a face for the benefit of the empty aisle that conveyed both superiority and disgust, as if even the smell of cheap coffee was turning my highly sophisticated stomach.) I did find shaving cream, and thereby gave occasion to awkwardly explain to a clerk in each of the next two stores that I visited (neither of which had coffee) that although I had just purchased my shaving cream elsewhere, I hadn't the faintest idea where my receipt was or if I'd even been offered one, but I would be leaving their store without buying anything because they didn't carry any coffee products that met my lofty standards.

And this was why I woke up at 7:30 on Sunday morning and didn't have any coffee. We agreed to stop at a Tim Horton's on the way to church (and a Wegmans on the way back, thank goodness there was still some remnant of civilization left in the world) in order to caffeinate, which J reminded me again was an expensive habit.

I limped my way downstairs to the kitchen table, and opened my Greek New Testament. The whole world seemed to be in black and white. I put my head in my hands, and started to pick up the translation I was making from St. Mark. J sat next to me and worked on her cereal, occasionally making pleasant remarks to which I grunted acknowledgement. Sometimes in movies with loud explosions (these are the types of movies which make up the majority of my high-brow fancy-coffee-drinking film diet) an explosion will occur particularly close to the main character, and the director will convey his disorientation by cutting out all sound except a high pitched ringing, and scanning the camera around unsteadily. This is what its like to be without coffee, except you also have a headache. Yes, it is actually worse than surviving a nearby explosion.

We needed to be on the road by 8:00, and J was ready to go by 7:50. I was nowhere near ready to go, and I was also profoundly unhelpful with the hardest part of going anywhere as a family--getting James ready. I didn't particularly want to go to church anyway. Her church is far away, and it is a contemporary music church. I don't hate contemporary music, but I also don't make any effort to listen to it unless there are special circumstances. It's sort of like listening to Spohr. If Spohr comes on the radio, I change to a different channel unless the performer is truly exceptional. When Spohr is on a concert program, I avoid the concert unless a close personal friend is part of the performance.

Spohr's name even sounds uninteresting. It's a cross between "boring" and "snore." Sopor is Latin for deep sleep, so it's no surprise that Spohr is soporific. If Louis Spohr were a campfire treat, he'd be a lukewarm tofu between two unsalted wafer crackers. We'd call them S'pohrs.

This guys music is Spohrrible.

So that's why we were running late on Sunday. I was uncaffeinated, unhelpful with James, and dragging my feet to go listen to Spohr with drumset.

"I think it's going to be a good day." said Julie

I looked over at her, and she was neatly done up in a short black skirt, a snazzy brand new top, with cute black shoes and sunglasses atop her head.

And it was a good day.

Summer So Far

So far Summer 2013 has been about:

Cleaning
This week was all about getting control of our house again after being away at camp for two weeks. I got up at 6 AM on Monday and started in on the dishes. Five days later, we still aren't finished. (Although the pace of our efforts has diminished considerably as we've made progress against the mess.) We scoured the countertops in the kitchen, scrubbed the sticky kitchen floor until it was once again smooth and clean to bare feet, ran endless loads of laundry, rummaged through the storage boxes of the laundry room, threw away two garbage bins of junk, moved book stacks back to their rightful places, paid old bills, answered old emails, dusted, vacuumed, held James at a safe distance from the terror of the vacuum, sorted the toy box, put away outgrown clothes, gave away outdated ties, installed more baby-proofing equipment, and even scrubbed the carpets. My favorite project, however, was the total transformation of the Neon. I emptied the backseat of all the gigging debris that had accumulated over the course of the year (old choir music, bits of wire-stands, spare mutes, parking receipts). I scrubbed the passenger side carpet where a milkshake had spilled and left a sticky (and stinky) mess. I vacuumed out half a driveway of pebbles. I wiped down all the glass surfaces, scrubbed the dash, and completely reorganized the trunk. I had a brand new car at the end of the day. It was a wonderful feeling to sit inside of the Neon and think "Wow! This is what rental cars smell like!" Of course, the outside still looks terrible--the paint on the hood is peeling away in huge stripes, and it looks like the front of the car caught on fire. But still, I've been proud of my clean car, and I've really enjoyed driving back and forth to Buffalo in it.

Gigging
I've been driving back and forth to Buffalo a lot. This is a very good thing, since there was no summer work whatsoever in Rochester this year. I've played a couple of tent concerts on the harbor front, a lunchtime show at M&T plaza, an anniversary celebration for Artpark, and tonight a "Classics" concert at Kleinhans. Every summer there seems to be a piece or two that show up on every concert I play. Perhaps the music library gets to choose one number that they never have to take out of the folders? In years past it's been the Victory at Sea suite in Rochester, or the Brahms Hungarian Dance no. 5. (I take it for granted, by the way, that 1812 will be on every concert.) This year it's American Salute in Buffalo. J and James came to the lunchtime concert, and it was a lot of fun to watch him react to a real live orchestra. (He begged for a few minutes to be allowed on the timpani, then spent the rest of the concert wandering over to homeless people and trying to climb into the fountain.)

Camp
We spent two weeks in Houghton, NY at the Csehy Summer School of Music, where J taught flute. We stayed up late with lots of great musician friends, and James was fascinated by people riding bicycles. (We may need to borrow a baby seat and take him for a ride sometime soon.) I was in and out with orchestra work, but J taught some great students and had some solo playing opportunities. We juggled childcare (thank goodness the camp has someone on staff for that) and tried to stay cool in the unairconditioned dormitories. Fortunately, there was Perry's ice cream available at every meal.

Auditions
Well, one audition. For the Virginia Symphony. I drove ten hours to Virginia with all the windows rolled down, then spend two days going back and forth to a Jewish temple in Norfolk playing excerpts and waiting to hear the advancement notices. There were two spots open, and out of the three of us that made it to the very last round of playing, I was the one that didn't get a job. To be honest, it was awful. And I still feel awful about it. I played really well, and I don't think there was anything I could have done differently--in fact, I got to talk with the music director afterwards, and she assured me that there was nothing else I could have done. But it still stinks. It was my third visit to the finals in the last year, and I'm simultaneously elated with encouragement and sick with disappointment. But for now, back to the practice room.

James
James really likes to have Daddy home for the summer. We're bouncing around quite a bit outside, and he's turned a corner with his "talking" recently. I suspect that camp had quite a bit to do with this, because he was surrounded all day by conversation, and he's started to imitate it. He's now pouring forth torrents of nonsense syllables not only in response to our questions, but without any prompting as he plays, cries, takes baths, throws things, eats, and does all the things little boys do. Two days ago, we even got a real word: Basketball. Basketball might be his favorite thing right now, in addition to rocks, balls, dogs, drums, tractors, driving, sidewalk chalk, Chika-chika boom boom, conducting, and forks. I think his life was made complete the other day when we found a Youtube video of a dog shooting basketball. (With drums in the background music.)

"Parents" of three

Now that I'm home for the summer I can help J watch our niece and nephew two days a week. S&K need the childcare between their work and school schedules, so we are happy to watch our bubbly three year old niece Hayden and her newborn brother Liam. J has been watching them ever since Liam was born in April, and she is understandably tired after the days where she watches all three kids. This is very good practice for when we someday have multiple children of our own.

Here's how the day went:
9:30 Hayden and Liam arrive. J makes a bottle Liam, and Hayden and James play nicely with a balloon. He is super excited to see her and expresses this by emitting loud high-pitched shrieks repeatedly. (I think that he thinks he's talking to her when he does this.) Hayden tells me several times how nicely she and James are sharing. Sometimes she is so eager to share that she rips the balloon right out of his arms, so that she can give it back to him again. Liam is fussy while the bottle is being prepared. Hayden takes off her shoes and puts on a pair of J's high heels.

9:45 J begins to make pizza dough for lunch. (N.B. Her pizza dough turns out beautifully, without any of the drama that certain other people have experienced while attempting it recently.) I hold Liam on my lap with a book, by far my most peaceful 15 minutes of the day. Liam works on his bottle contentedly. James and Hayden both insist that they be allowed to "help" Aunt Julie with the pizza. She pushes two kitchen chairs up to the counter, and they climb up to assist, mostly by asking questions about what everything is (Hayden) and stacking the spices into towers (James.) James is continuing to emit high-pitched shrieks every fifteen to thirty seconds. At one point I suggest that the pizza be topped with dirt instead of pepperoni, and Hayden is deeply upset. She tells Aunt Julie that this would be "disgusting."

10:00 The pizza dough is in the bread machine, and it's time for everyone to get dressed. I take off Hayden's high heels and put her crocs back on. I take James upstairs and put on his socks and sneakers. I close the door to my room and change into jeans and a long sleeved shirt. Hayden and James both bang on the door with Hayden insisting that they come in since I'm all "nakey." James assents by shrieking.

10:05
James has pooped his pants. J takes him upstairs to take off his shoes, pants, and diaper, put on a new one, and then put all his clothes back on. He shrieks through the process. Liam has also pooped his pants. I change his diaper downstairs, and he begins wail/shriek. We ask Hayden whether she needs to go to the bathroom before we visit the park. She is very noncommittal, so I take her upstairs to sit on the potty just to be sure. She doesn't need to go. I pull her jeans back up and we are ready to leave the house.

10:15
J carries out Liam in his carseat while I try to corral Hayden and Liam into the PT Cruiser. I load James first, who initially fusses and then gives great guffaws of laughter when he realizes Hayden will be sitting next to him in her booster eat. I strap in James, then strap in Hayden, then take the carseat from Liam and attempt to put in unsuccessfully several times before J gets it secure. James is shrieking again, and Liam is still crying. The door doesn't close on the first attempt, but it does when we reposition Liam's carseat. All three kids are in the backseat.

10:30
We listen to a CD of children singing Bible songs. Hayden provides musical criticism on several points, including "Why are there kids singing these songs?" We listen to "This Little Light of Mine" three times. We get to the park, and Hayden informs us that we are at the wrong park. Liam and James are both quiet.

10:40
We unpack the kids from the car. I carry a sleeping Liam in carseat over to the playground. Hayden walks on her own, but J has to carry a kicking and fighting James, who has seen the stream that runs through Hubbard Park and wants to get down and play in it. Hayden informs us, upon closer inspection, that we are at the right park after all. She tells me many stories about the last time she was here, with Aunt Martha.

10:45
Liam is asleep in his carseat on a park bench. Hayden and James are both in kiddie swings. Initially J is pushing Hayden while I push James, but then I push both, mostly giving underduckies.

10:50
Liam is still sleeping. James and Hayden climb up the swingset to go down the slides. J rules out the "twin slides" facing south since they both have large pools of standing water from a recent rain. James goes down a tunnel slide and gets his rear end soaked anyway. He slides very slowly with a damp bottom, but still laughs uproariously and goes down several times. Hayden climbs to the top of the slide once, but is too scared to go down. James climbs over her head and goes down again. Hayden decides to go on the swings again.

10:55
James is upset that Hayden is in her swing. Hayden does not switch swings, so Aunt Julie starts a timer for Hayden's turn and then James' turn. James' interest does not last to the end of the timer, so he goes back to the slides. Liam is still sleeping.

11:00
James starts down one of the super-wet slides, and I catch him halfway down before he reaches the puddle at the bottom and pull him off. J yells something to me from across the playground. I walk a little closer to listen to what she was saying. I don't end up listening, because in my absence James begins to play in the puddle of water at the base of the slide. His frontside and his backside are now soaked. I pull him away from the puddle and attempt to splash most of it off the slide and into the dirt below. James goes to another slide with another puddle and tries to pick up an enormous bug that is flailing in the water. I take away the enormous bug, and he reaches his hands down into the mud puddle from where I drained out the first puddle. He is completely soaked and his hands are coated in dirty woodchips. Hayden is shrieking on the swings, and Liam is (to the best of our knowledge) still asleep.

11:05
I carry James (sopping wet) over to the stream that he was trying to get into earlier, hold him upside down by his feet, and instruct him to rinse off his hands in the water. He cleans his hands and thinks this is enormous fun, but then is upset when I don't let him play in the stream. I carry him (still wet) and crying back to Hayden and J. I offer to take Hayden on a walk with James, and J sits down with sleeping Liam.

11:10
We follow the stream through the park, and see a mother duck fly over our heads to her five little ducklings swimming in the cat-tails. We follow them as they swim upstream (probably trying to escape from us) and I hold Hayden in one arm and James in the other so that we can keep up. They utterly fascinated by the little ducklings. Eventually we let them swim away when we reach the empty old basketball courts. James wants to be let down to play basketball, even though I tell him that we don't have a ball with us. Hayden insists that she knows where one is secretly hidden, but I don't let her down either. Both of them cry as I carry them back to J and Liam.


11:20
Liam is awake. We take one more round on the slides (then another, then another) as we gather everything up, and then load back into the backseats of the SUV. James cries a lot as we leave--we pass the stream without playing in it again--and Hayden shows everyone how tall she is when she stands on a rock. Liam is fussy. We listen to "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands" four times on the way back home. Cracking open Liam's window helps with his fusses, but Hayden insists that he doesn't like it.

11:30
We all come back inside and J shows Hayden how the bread machine turned their mixture into dough. Hayden goes upstairs and puts on another pair of J's heels, then wears them into the kitchen to model. James imitates her by putting on (without much success) a pair of my flip flops. J begins to assemble the pizza, and Hayden and James take up their positions on chairs at the counter again to help.Hayden is worried that there might be dirt on the pizza when J puts on the sauce. She also helps put pepperoni on the pizza, but is upset that she can't eat more than one before its cooked. James makes more spice towers and spills a cup of flour onto the floor.

11:45
J is looking after Liam. Hayden and James go upstairs to James' room. I knock on the door, and Hayden informs me that I'm not allowed in their house. She then tells James that his room is a mess, and they need to clean it. James laughs.

12:00
The pizza comes out of the oven, but when Hayden can't have a piece before it's cut and cooled she sasses J and ends up in time out for three minutes. She begins to cry, which makes James cry. Liam needs a bottle, and when he hears the other two crying, he begins to cry as well. I work on giving Liam bottle while J cuts up the pizza. Time out ends, and J serves pizza to Hayden and James while Liam drifts off to sleep again in my arms.

12:15
J, Hayden, James and I eat pizza around the kitchen table. Hayden is very relieved there isn't any dirt on the pizza.

...and this would probably be an excellent opportunity thank my Mother, who used to watch three three-and-under-year-olds EVERY SINGLE DAY.