James
-Staying up late on his own to read new library books
-An elaborate "goodbye" routine whenever an adult leaves the house that involves all of his cars bidding you farewell and then waiting by the window and waving
-Selecting "good yummy lunchtime food" for the adults from the pantry and then waiting expectantly for you to eat the can of kidney beans, jar of alfredo sauce, and saltine crackers that he's pulled out
-Cheering whenever a student arrives and immediately asking if he can have a half an hour on the iPad
-Preventing anyone from ever seeing his bare feet under any circumstances
Owen
-Holding onto my knees and refusing to let go whenever I come downstairs in a suit because he knows I'm about to leave
-Climbing up on the bathroom stool and brushing his teeth multiple times a day, sometimes with other people's toothbrushes
-Pushing around a duplo tractor inside and outside, especially if James is pushing his yellow dump truck
-Sticking his head into the shower if you attempt to take one and forget to lock the bathroom door
-Begging for music on the speaker dock, but then freaking out if you can't guess exactly which song he's asking for
-Matching pitch and singing along
Thursday, April 28, 2016
Political Reactions
"The cheek of every American must tingle with shame as he reads the silly, flat, and dishwatery utterances of the man who has to be pointed out to foreigners as the President of United States....Is [The President] less refined than a savage? It was a perversion of history so flagrant that the most extended charity cannot view it as otherwise than willful." (Chicago Times)
"We pass over the silly remarks of the President: for the credit of the nation we are willing that the veil of oblivion shall be dropped over them and that they shall no more be repeated or thought of." (Patriot-Times)
"The ceremony was rendered ludicrous by some of the luckless sallies of that poor President. Anything more dull and commonplace it would not be easy to produce." (London Times)
"Right to the point, but I don't think there was anything remarkable about it." (Civilian Observation)
Kings are usually made to speak in the magniloquent language supposed to be suited to their elevated position. On the present occasion [The President] acted the clown. (Richmond Examiner)
Really, the ignorance and coarseness of this man would repel and disgust any other people than the Yankees . . . What a commentary is this on the character of our enemies." (The Virginian)
The preceding remarks are press reactions to President Lincoln's Gettysburg Address.
"We pass over the silly remarks of the President: for the credit of the nation we are willing that the veil of oblivion shall be dropped over them and that they shall no more be repeated or thought of." (Patriot-Times)
"The ceremony was rendered ludicrous by some of the luckless sallies of that poor President. Anything more dull and commonplace it would not be easy to produce." (London Times)
"Right to the point, but I don't think there was anything remarkable about it." (Civilian Observation)
Kings are usually made to speak in the magniloquent language supposed to be suited to their elevated position. On the present occasion [The President] acted the clown. (Richmond Examiner)
Really, the ignorance and coarseness of this man would repel and disgust any other people than the Yankees . . . What a commentary is this on the character of our enemies." (The Virginian)
The preceding remarks are press reactions to President Lincoln's Gettysburg Address.
Monday, April 25, 2016
Boys in Trouble
I. James
I was stopping at Wegmans on the way back from church, because neither Julie or I wanted to deal with cooking anything after another hectic Sunday morning, and we were almost completely out of produce.
"Hey Daddy," James called from the backseat as we pulled out of the church parking lot "Do you want to count exit signs and speed limit signs with me?"
(By the way, when James says speed limit, the first I receives a strong acute accent.)
"Sure, I'll look at those signs with you."
This is not a casual activity for James. When he looks at exit signs he sits bolt upright in his booster seat with eyes peeled. He remarks on every sign that we pass, and if anyone attempts to talk about anything else he will shush them so as to focus on the task at hand.
We made our way through the city through the light Sunday traffic over the bridge, and then pulled off at the Winton Road exit to stop at Wegmans for some victuals.
"Hey Daddy, how are we going to get back down?"
"Get back down where?"
"Get back down to where we were going?"
"Oh, I don't think we'll go back on the highway. We'll go the rest of the way home on Winton Road, up past the James Sign." (There's a sign for a St. James church on Winton Road that James points out on runs. He's still looking for a St. Owen sign.)
"But Daddy!"
I looked back and saw that he was choking back tears.
"How are we going to clap if we don't get to Exit 8?"
Exit 8 is our exit off of 590, where we pull onto Empire Boulevard. I don't think that Owen particularly cares which exit signs we're passing as we go along the highway, but James always applauds wildly when we reach our exit, and Owen is happy to join in the cheering.
"Well, tell you what. We can head back the rest of the way on the highway if you'd like."
I figured it would only add about a block to the journey, and might even be faster if the lights up Winton were unfavorable.
We picked up some brussel sprouts, some olives, and a rotisserie chicken. (By the way, the chicken salad that we made from the leftover rotisserie chicken was really good.) James had a piece of french comte wrapped in prosciutto that the sample lady was giving out. ("Daddy, this is the best cheese I've nebber had.") Owen also had a sample and then tried to impale James with his toothpick.
I pulled out onto Winton Road and started heading up towards Blossom to get over to the highway again.
"Daddy, where are we? Where's the bridge that we were on?"
"It's back the other way. We're going to head up to the highway so we can get off at Exit 8 and you guys can clap."
"But Daddy, we only got to see Exit 20! We're going to miss Exit 21, 21, 21!"
(There are, apparently, three different Exit 21 signs that mark the 590 split.)
"Sorry James, you can't get onto Exit 21 from Winton Road. But you'll get to see our exit."
The crying started in earnest as I pulled onto 590 from the Blossom Road entrance.
James, recognizing where we were, shrieked in horror.
"Oh NO, Daddy! I did not get to see Exit 6 EITHER!"
I was mostly trying not to laugh.
Less than a minute later we pulled off the highway on Exit 8, and Owen, recognizing where we were, burst into applause and cheering.
I heard "George" talking to James through his sobs.
"James, why are you crying!"
"I'm so sad! I can't even clap for Exit 8 because I'm too upset!"
II. Peanut Butter Scare
Owen gets into the dishwasher. He likes to "help" unload it when it's clean, and he's pretty good at putting spoons, forks, and knives in the right spot. The problem is that he makes no distinction between a clean and an unclean dishwasher, so if you start putting dirty dishes in he'll just pull them out again with an indignant expression. ("Hey, didn't we just take all the dishes out of this thing?")
This morning after breakfast I was loading up the dirty dishes from the morning, and I heard him rummaging around behind me. I knew that there weren't any sharp knives in the utensil drawer, so I wasn't too worried. He pit-patted out of the kitchen while I wasn't looking, and I finished loading up the bowls and plates.
A few minutes later J came into the kitchen carrying a dirty butter knife that she'd found in the library. She made to put it in the sink, and then stopped and smelled it.
It had been the knife we used for peanut buttering our toast earlier. And Owen had most certainly stolen in, carried it off, and licked it clean.
Within ten minutes he was breaking out in hives, rubbing his eyes incessantly, and turning red. We gave him benadryl and immediately dunked him in the bath.
It's hard to tell what's the result of the allergy and what's the result of the benadryl, but he's certainly been slow all morning. As J said, "He basically looks like he's drunk."
He's been snuggly and sleepy and generally kind of out of it.
On the one hand, it was good for us to see a reaction, to contain it quickly, and to know that the effects are both very real and very treatable. On the other hand, it was a scary few minutes while we watched him turn red and break out. We'll continue to remind everyone who watches him about the epipen and the list of allergens to the point of being annoying...and please feel free to remind us to the point of annoyance to never hand him off without meds and safe food.
I was stopping at Wegmans on the way back from church, because neither Julie or I wanted to deal with cooking anything after another hectic Sunday morning, and we were almost completely out of produce.
"Hey Daddy," James called from the backseat as we pulled out of the church parking lot "Do you want to count exit signs and speed limit signs with me?"
(By the way, when James says speed limit, the first I receives a strong acute accent.)
"Sure, I'll look at those signs with you."
This is not a casual activity for James. When he looks at exit signs he sits bolt upright in his booster seat with eyes peeled. He remarks on every sign that we pass, and if anyone attempts to talk about anything else he will shush them so as to focus on the task at hand.
We made our way through the city through the light Sunday traffic over the bridge, and then pulled off at the Winton Road exit to stop at Wegmans for some victuals.
"Hey Daddy, how are we going to get back down?"
"Get back down where?"
"Get back down to where we were going?"
"Oh, I don't think we'll go back on the highway. We'll go the rest of the way home on Winton Road, up past the James Sign." (There's a sign for a St. James church on Winton Road that James points out on runs. He's still looking for a St. Owen sign.)
"But Daddy!"
I looked back and saw that he was choking back tears.
"How are we going to clap if we don't get to Exit 8?"
Exit 8 is our exit off of 590, where we pull onto Empire Boulevard. I don't think that Owen particularly cares which exit signs we're passing as we go along the highway, but James always applauds wildly when we reach our exit, and Owen is happy to join in the cheering.
"Well, tell you what. We can head back the rest of the way on the highway if you'd like."
I figured it would only add about a block to the journey, and might even be faster if the lights up Winton were unfavorable.
We picked up some brussel sprouts, some olives, and a rotisserie chicken. (By the way, the chicken salad that we made from the leftover rotisserie chicken was really good.) James had a piece of french comte wrapped in prosciutto that the sample lady was giving out. ("Daddy, this is the best cheese I've nebber had.") Owen also had a sample and then tried to impale James with his toothpick.
I pulled out onto Winton Road and started heading up towards Blossom to get over to the highway again.
"Daddy, where are we? Where's the bridge that we were on?"
"It's back the other way. We're going to head up to the highway so we can get off at Exit 8 and you guys can clap."
"But Daddy, we only got to see Exit 20! We're going to miss Exit 21, 21, 21!"
(There are, apparently, three different Exit 21 signs that mark the 590 split.)
"Sorry James, you can't get onto Exit 21 from Winton Road. But you'll get to see our exit."
The crying started in earnest as I pulled onto 590 from the Blossom Road entrance.
James, recognizing where we were, shrieked in horror.
"Oh NO, Daddy! I did not get to see Exit 6 EITHER!"
I was mostly trying not to laugh.
Less than a minute later we pulled off the highway on Exit 8, and Owen, recognizing where we were, burst into applause and cheering.
I heard "George" talking to James through his sobs.
"James, why are you crying!"
"I'm so sad! I can't even clap for Exit 8 because I'm too upset!"
II. Peanut Butter Scare
Owen gets into the dishwasher. He likes to "help" unload it when it's clean, and he's pretty good at putting spoons, forks, and knives in the right spot. The problem is that he makes no distinction between a clean and an unclean dishwasher, so if you start putting dirty dishes in he'll just pull them out again with an indignant expression. ("Hey, didn't we just take all the dishes out of this thing?")
This morning after breakfast I was loading up the dirty dishes from the morning, and I heard him rummaging around behind me. I knew that there weren't any sharp knives in the utensil drawer, so I wasn't too worried. He pit-patted out of the kitchen while I wasn't looking, and I finished loading up the bowls and plates.
A few minutes later J came into the kitchen carrying a dirty butter knife that she'd found in the library. She made to put it in the sink, and then stopped and smelled it.
It had been the knife we used for peanut buttering our toast earlier. And Owen had most certainly stolen in, carried it off, and licked it clean.
Within ten minutes he was breaking out in hives, rubbing his eyes incessantly, and turning red. We gave him benadryl and immediately dunked him in the bath.
It's hard to tell what's the result of the allergy and what's the result of the benadryl, but he's certainly been slow all morning. As J said, "He basically looks like he's drunk."
He's been snuggly and sleepy and generally kind of out of it.
On the one hand, it was good for us to see a reaction, to contain it quickly, and to know that the effects are both very real and very treatable. On the other hand, it was a scary few minutes while we watched him turn red and break out. We'll continue to remind everyone who watches him about the epipen and the list of allergens to the point of being annoying...and please feel free to remind us to the point of annoyance to never hand him off without meds and safe food.
Saturday, April 23, 2016
Cleaning Out Pictures
 |
| Owen looking at a picture of Baby Olivia |
 |
| And you thought the incessant trumpet practicing was bad |
 |
| Musician Tax Season |
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| A victim of small children. The band was crushed and broken after the ring was tossed off the table and stepped on. |
 |
| James staying dry at the bay |
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| Owen...not staying dry at the bay |
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| J modeling new boots. She'll probably make me take this down once she sees it. |
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| Picnic time with James' friend. |
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| Belgian Beer that J actually liked |
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| Owen getting into adult things Exhibit A |
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| The same, Exhibit B |
 |
| And Exhibit C |
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| A pile of bear, monkey, and boy |
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| "Yes, I shall now trot around my own George and Steven everywhere." |
 |
| ...and Exhibit D |
The Feast of St. George
I.
Today is the Feast of St. George. All you worms, serpents, and dragons, beware.
II. Moll Flanders
You can analyze almost anything in terms of power, money, and sex. Take, for instance, the orchestra concert that I'm going to play tonight--Songs of a Wayfarer and the Brahms Requiem. Both works require big-name vocal soloists, and the Requiem uses a chorus. A cynical view on the programming would be that the works were selected to draw an audience that would be composed of families from the massive chorus involved and to attract a crowd of vocal music enthusiasts who would be drawn in by the glitz of the soloists. The Requiem (written in German, not Latin) was Brahms' break with the traditional use Latin texts for a Requiem mass as part of the German nationalist movement that was gaining steam at the end of the 19th century.
Or you could analyze the program in terms of money. A better 2nd half pair for the Mahler would be the 1st Symphony, which uses much of the same material. But the instrumentation is much expanded, which adds up to a prohibitively high cost.
Or you could analyze the works in terms of sex. For Mahler, the whole song cycle was written in the wake of a failed courtship with a soprano. The titles of the tunes are "When My Sweetheart is Married," "I Went Over the Field This Morning," "I Have a Gleaming Knife," and "The Two Blue Eyes of My Beloved." About the Freudian connections between the process of grieving the dead and a compensatory urge to reproduce I'll make no mention.
None of these "angles" entirely explain why there is a concert tonight or how the music came to be, but each explanation illuminates something hidden and powerful in the process of a particular musical performance happening in a particular city.
Moll Flanders is an interesting book because it explains the life of a particularly unsavory character (Moll, based on a one-time real prisoner of Newgate) who is at various times a prostitute and a thief in terms of her financial needs. Every wicked deed, double-cross, and cheat has a price tag or pay-out that is explained in exact pounds, shillings, and pence afterwards. And then she lives for a time on what she has until she runs out and is forced into some new crime. The redeeming bit about the book is that she's quite funny and a genuinely sympathetic character. I don't know how he can keep it up for 300 pages, but so far I like it much better than Robinson Crusoe. (Really, the scene at the end of the first book when he gets attacked by wolves as he's crossing the mountains after finally getting off the island is almost as bad as the bit in Die Hard when the big Austrian guy climbs half dead out of the collapsed building and tries to fire off one final shot just as you think the movie is going to end.)
Today is the Feast of St. George. All you worms, serpents, and dragons, beware.
II. Moll Flanders
You can analyze almost anything in terms of power, money, and sex. Take, for instance, the orchestra concert that I'm going to play tonight--Songs of a Wayfarer and the Brahms Requiem. Both works require big-name vocal soloists, and the Requiem uses a chorus. A cynical view on the programming would be that the works were selected to draw an audience that would be composed of families from the massive chorus involved and to attract a crowd of vocal music enthusiasts who would be drawn in by the glitz of the soloists. The Requiem (written in German, not Latin) was Brahms' break with the traditional use Latin texts for a Requiem mass as part of the German nationalist movement that was gaining steam at the end of the 19th century.
Or you could analyze the program in terms of money. A better 2nd half pair for the Mahler would be the 1st Symphony, which uses much of the same material. But the instrumentation is much expanded, which adds up to a prohibitively high cost.
Or you could analyze the works in terms of sex. For Mahler, the whole song cycle was written in the wake of a failed courtship with a soprano. The titles of the tunes are "When My Sweetheart is Married," "I Went Over the Field This Morning," "I Have a Gleaming Knife," and "The Two Blue Eyes of My Beloved." About the Freudian connections between the process of grieving the dead and a compensatory urge to reproduce I'll make no mention.
None of these "angles" entirely explain why there is a concert tonight or how the music came to be, but each explanation illuminates something hidden and powerful in the process of a particular musical performance happening in a particular city.
Moll Flanders is an interesting book because it explains the life of a particularly unsavory character (Moll, based on a one-time real prisoner of Newgate) who is at various times a prostitute and a thief in terms of her financial needs. Every wicked deed, double-cross, and cheat has a price tag or pay-out that is explained in exact pounds, shillings, and pence afterwards. And then she lives for a time on what she has until she runs out and is forced into some new crime. The redeeming bit about the book is that she's quite funny and a genuinely sympathetic character. I don't know how he can keep it up for 300 pages, but so far I like it much better than Robinson Crusoe. (Really, the scene at the end of the first book when he gets attacked by wolves as he's crossing the mountains after finally getting off the island is almost as bad as the bit in Die Hard when the big Austrian guy climbs half dead out of the collapsed building and tries to fire off one final shot just as you think the movie is going to end.)
Friday, April 22, 2016
Bulgy Bears
"It is your right. And you shall be one of the marshals. But you MUST remember not to suck your paws."
"Of course not."
"Why, you're doing it this minute!"
Thursday, April 21, 2016
Updates
I. Duck Duck Goose
In James' funny little world whichever parent first does an activity with him is the only parent from thence to eternity who may do that activity. This is axiomatic for him--The Law of Immutable Non-transference. For this reason I'm not allowed to help him do pages from his coloring book or read him certain Elephant and Piggie books. But I am the only parent who is allowed to play Duck, Duck, Goose with him.
He wanted to play Duck, Duck, Goose a few days ago, but of course had to wait until I arrived back home from rehearsal. We went into the living room and sat down on the carpet, preparing to play with just the two of us, as we usually do. (This really takes the suspense out of who the "goose" is going to be.)
Owen came and sat down too.
"Do you think we should teach Owen how to play?"
Owen nodded.
James went around the two of us patting our heads and saying "Duck..duck...duck...duck...GOOSE!"
We all popped up and ran around the house, then tumbled back down into the living room.
"Owen, do you want a turn to be the ducker?"
<nodding>
"Duhhh...duhh...duhhh...DUDUH!"
<Owen takes off running.>
He pats himself on the head in his rotation also, which makes it even more adorable. Unlike James, he's happy to play with anyone.
II. 1,481 miles
On Friday morning I drove to Buffalo to play a 10:30 concert with the BPO. That afternoon I drove to Columbus, Ohio, which, accounting for the traffic snarl around Cleveland, took about 6 hours.
On Saturday morning I drove into downtown Columbus and played a preliminary round audition, learned that I advanced, and then immediately got back in the car and headed towards Buffalo. I arrived back there about 6 pm, took a walk and picked up some coffee, and then played an 8 PM concert. Once the concert let out (about 10:30) I got back into the car and drove until about 1:30 in the morning, stopping to spend the night outside Cleveland.
On Sunday morning I drove three hours down to Columbus and arrived around noon. I played in the semi-final, final, and section rounds of the audition, and received word that I wouldn't be offered the job around 6 pm. I got back into the car and started driving again. I ended up getting into Rochester about 1 AM.
Do you know what's really wonderful? Airline travel.
III. College Life
I'm on a college campus right now, sitting in a Starbucks and looking out at the students passing by. They're such a funny mix of grown-up and child. It's hard to remember that they're all Martha's age, but I guess that looks about right. I've missed college teaching this year a bit more than I thought I would, and I was contacted about a possible adjunct job yesterday that would be (of course) a ton of driving, but probably some pretty good money.
College is such a formative time. You learn all the facts you're supposed to know to complete your classes and exams, but you also learn how to get yourself up in the morning, get assignments handed in on time, dress respectably, and look after yourself in the wide world. Two young men in nice-looking suits just walked by me. One of them has some nice looking dress shoes, and the other is wearing sneakers that apparently have gum stuck to the bottom of them. That was essentially my college experience. In fact, I'm not even sure that I owned black dress shoes during my freshman year. I certainly performed at least my first two chorale/wind ensemble concerts in a tux with brown shoes.
I hope Martha's enjoying her college time. Eventually you start to get fined if you show up to the concert with brown shoes.
(I have black shoes tonight, but it doesn't matter. We're going to be in the pit.)
In James' funny little world whichever parent first does an activity with him is the only parent from thence to eternity who may do that activity. This is axiomatic for him--The Law of Immutable Non-transference. For this reason I'm not allowed to help him do pages from his coloring book or read him certain Elephant and Piggie books. But I am the only parent who is allowed to play Duck, Duck, Goose with him.
He wanted to play Duck, Duck, Goose a few days ago, but of course had to wait until I arrived back home from rehearsal. We went into the living room and sat down on the carpet, preparing to play with just the two of us, as we usually do. (This really takes the suspense out of who the "goose" is going to be.)
Owen came and sat down too.
"Do you think we should teach Owen how to play?"
Owen nodded.
James went around the two of us patting our heads and saying "Duck..duck...duck...duck...GOOSE!"
We all popped up and ran around the house, then tumbled back down into the living room.
"Owen, do you want a turn to be the ducker?"
<nodding>
"Duhhh...duhh...duhhh...DUDUH!"
<Owen takes off running.>
He pats himself on the head in his rotation also, which makes it even more adorable. Unlike James, he's happy to play with anyone.
II. 1,481 miles
On Friday morning I drove to Buffalo to play a 10:30 concert with the BPO. That afternoon I drove to Columbus, Ohio, which, accounting for the traffic snarl around Cleveland, took about 6 hours.
On Saturday morning I drove into downtown Columbus and played a preliminary round audition, learned that I advanced, and then immediately got back in the car and headed towards Buffalo. I arrived back there about 6 pm, took a walk and picked up some coffee, and then played an 8 PM concert. Once the concert let out (about 10:30) I got back into the car and drove until about 1:30 in the morning, stopping to spend the night outside Cleveland.
On Sunday morning I drove three hours down to Columbus and arrived around noon. I played in the semi-final, final, and section rounds of the audition, and received word that I wouldn't be offered the job around 6 pm. I got back into the car and started driving again. I ended up getting into Rochester about 1 AM.
Do you know what's really wonderful? Airline travel.
III. College Life
I'm on a college campus right now, sitting in a Starbucks and looking out at the students passing by. They're such a funny mix of grown-up and child. It's hard to remember that they're all Martha's age, but I guess that looks about right. I've missed college teaching this year a bit more than I thought I would, and I was contacted about a possible adjunct job yesterday that would be (of course) a ton of driving, but probably some pretty good money.
College is such a formative time. You learn all the facts you're supposed to know to complete your classes and exams, but you also learn how to get yourself up in the morning, get assignments handed in on time, dress respectably, and look after yourself in the wide world. Two young men in nice-looking suits just walked by me. One of them has some nice looking dress shoes, and the other is wearing sneakers that apparently have gum stuck to the bottom of them. That was essentially my college experience. In fact, I'm not even sure that I owned black dress shoes during my freshman year. I certainly performed at least my first two chorale/wind ensemble concerts in a tux with brown shoes.
I hope Martha's enjoying her college time. Eventually you start to get fined if you show up to the concert with brown shoes.
(I have black shoes tonight, but it doesn't matter. We're going to be in the pit.)
Monday, April 11, 2016
Today's To-Do List
Monday, April 11th.
It's been circled on the calendar for weeks--the first day in 11 days that I didn't have to drive to Buffalo or Syracuse. The day off. Date Night In, the day to reconnect with the boys. The day to get practicing in, the day to get stuff done around the house.
TO DO:
PM-Date Night In
Sadly, I've participated in almost none of the prep for DNI so far. J seasoned the lamb chops, managed to get creme fraiche and panna cotta to set properly, and took care of all of the shopping. My lone contribution has been twice (unsuccessfully both times) trying to find fresh rhubarb, which I finally gave up on this afternoon. Instead of topping the dessert with a ginger/rhubarb we'll go with balsamic strawberries. Incidentally, it's been WONDERFUL to have fresh (though not Panek-fresh, of course) strawberries in the house for the last week. I don't think I've ever eaten a strawberry without feeling the divine smile, and that's especially true if I'm eating lunch in the car on the way to rehearsal. The boys love them too, and J's been making spinach salads with them.
J Lessons
She has her three students on Monday, which meant that I loaded the kids into the Yaris and went to do our Monday errands--deposits to the bank, picking up wine, visiting the Pittsford Wegmans for produce. The boys are such stinkers. They know exactly where they can ask for sweets. When we were checking out at the liquor store James leaned an elbow up against the cash register, smiled at the cashier, and asked with a grin "So, do you have any candy?" (She gave him a dum-dum from the secret stash that he knows about.)The highlight for Owen, though, was seeing a life-sized bear head in the display of Gnarly Head wines. He saw it from the cart, pointed, shrieked, and then gave the most convincing bear growl a 17-month old is able to make. I took his picture with it, but James thought it was scary and hid behind the cart.
Wegmans trip/Deposit checks
Everyone knows it's impossible to go to Wegmans and only pick up what you were going in for. (Balsamic vinegar, more strawberries.) So we also walked out with St. Albans cheese, ice cream (not my idea), pomegranate seeds, leeks, spinach, bananas, and celeriac.
Family Exercise
We ran down Winton road to the branch library there. It's a tired-looking one story brick building that we've turned up our noses at ever since we moved out here, but we needed to get some overdue library books back and didn't want to drive all the way to Pittsford. J had actually been before and had some very nice things to say about the children's librarian. She was very sweet to the boys, and James found a bunch of Berenstein Bears books that weren't available in Pittsford. It was still just a little too cold for the boys to really enjoy sitting in the stroller, but it was a lovely long run, and we hadn't been out with the stroller as a family in over a week.
Oil Change and Tire Mount
With all the trips across the interstate I was long overdue for an oil change, and I also needed to have my all-season tires put back on. I suppose this winter was probably the one year when I could have made due without the snow tires, but on the few nights when it was really gross out I appreciated having the extra traction. Bonus to owning a house--having a spot in the basement to store four tires. (Although every time James sees them he insists that our trees need to get bigger so we can have a tire swing.)
French Grammar
Hadn't touched my French book in almost a week, but mon livre was opened again this afternoon so I could read about personal pronoun rules and possibly drive J a little nuts by repeatedly practicing the last syllable of vous invitez.
Hesiod
Officially finished the Theogony this afternoon. (Though, of course, since the last bit of the poem is missing, no one ever really finishes the Theogony.) Taking a break from hexameter, going to move onto Demosthenes as my next big classical Greek project.
I Maccabees
A little bit of the Septuagint on the couch during naptime. Loimoi is the new word I learned today--"pests" or "pestilences."
Martial
The big news about my project of reading through (and copying out, in an attempt to get a better ear for the meter) all of Martial's epigrams is that I've reached the end of one of my nice green-tint notebooks as of today. Potor nobilis--a noble drunkard. Does nobilis refer to high birth, or is it a joke about a heavy drinker of gentlemanly manners?
BCP
Today's readings were Psalm 25, a bit of the Exodus story (Moses taking his father-in-law's advice), the last little bit of I Peter, and the introduction of John the Baptist from the gospel of Matthew.
Dineson
Did not get to read any of Out of Africa today. (At least not yet.)
Fold Laundry
The laundry was sorted into three baskets as soon as the boys were upstairs for naps, and then put away after dinner. The laundry is clean, long live the dirty laundry! We are still having a bit of a laundry crisis in the house, since I reinvented the way that I fold everything, and J and I no longer have matching systems. Theoretically this should work out very well for her as I would just fold everything all the time, but I think that the guilt of watching my do it by myself is slowly getting to her.
Trumpets to Basement
Usually I don't have more than a trumpet or two upstairs at any given time, depending on what gig I am going to or arrived back from late at night. But last week, just on Thursday alone I needed flugel, Bb, C, Eb, and the picc. We randomly used B-flats for the Broadway show we played in Syracuse, and the rotary and the cornet were called for on Saturday. Anyhow, there were a lot of trumpet cases sitting out in the living room. James was upset that that his baseball field was compromised. I was upset that Owen kept on attempting to stand on the soft cases. It was in everyone's best interest to move them back to the basement where they belong.
Listen Shostakovich
Did not get done
Listen Bruch
I did listen to the Bruch with a score and mark up my part (rehearsal for this starts tomorrow) but I was driven to earbuds after the first movement when Owen started running the remote controlled car all around the downstairs.
Practice BPO folder
Done. Shostakovich likes to write high notes for the trumepts
Practice Excerpts
Done. All the other composers in the western tradition also like to write high notes for the trumpet. I did three chunks today, a big 45 minutes session in the morning, then a half-an hour after lunch and twenty minutes before dinner. J, bracing herself for the third session: "What do you need to work on now?" Me: "Well, I don't have anything else in particular up for today, it's more about finding ways to find a bunch of high Cs after you've been burning them up all morning." J: "Well, this sounds like it's just going to be everyone's favorite."
Fix Bed Squeak:
Not done yet. Will have to be tomorrow.
Blog
Doing it right now, slighly guiltily, following the disappointed comments of regular readers. I am free to type all of this because James is stuck at the table refusing to eat his stir-fry. Owen has mostly stayed out of the way, but did clothesline himself with the laptop power cord when he tried to walk off with it. Me: "I'm not sure that 'I told you so' is strong enough."
Write to K
Not done yet
Minimalia
I read this book (which I intend to blog about soon) for the Blogging program about the minimalist movement--consciously owning less, finding ways to give away what you have and fight the consumerist mentality. I've been making lists of things we can give away over the past few days--camp t-shirts that we haven't worn in years, books that we're never going to get around to reading, old silverware, etc. (By the way, last week I finished the Books Unread list I made of all the books that I owned but hadn't read. Unfortunately, since I wrote that list almost a year ago, I've acquired enough new books, none of which I've read, since I was reading the old list, to make a Books Unread 2.0 list.) Anyhow, I took a step towards the minimalist project today by loading up some books to give to friends and moving a shelf of books down to the basement that were of a more trumpet/music reference nature. Anyhow, there's more space and less clutter in the library now, which is the big ultimate goal. Definitely more updates to come on this project.
Renew library books
As noted earlier, ended up just taking them down to the Winton branch library
Call Kohls
I have a pair of Columbia boots that are just a hair too small, and I've only worn them a few times. I dug around in the basement earlier and managed to find the box they came in--with the receipt. The store policy is to accept returns up to 12 months, so I scrubbed what dirt they had acquired as best I could, and will attempt to get a size 11 at some point this week.
Mouthpieces
Selling more mouthpieces on eBay. I'd been doing this before I read the book about minimalism, but it's all in the same spirit. If anyone needs an 11C4, 10.5C, 7C cornet, or 6C mouthpiece, be sure to search on eBay. They're very reasonably priced.
Bulletin info to church
We're going to do a Roy Ringwald number called Join Hands. That guy has a great name.
Dishes
Done, although not by me. It's okay, I'll make it up to J by taking care of all of the DNI dishes.
Speaking of which, James (not having eaten his supper, which will be waiting for him tomorrow morning) has been put to bed, and it's time for DATE NIGHT IN.
And I think I made pretty good progress on my day off to-do list.
It's been circled on the calendar for weeks--the first day in 11 days that I didn't have to drive to Buffalo or Syracuse. The day off. Date Night In, the day to reconnect with the boys. The day to get practicing in, the day to get stuff done around the house.
TO DO:
PM-Date Night In
Sadly, I've participated in almost none of the prep for DNI so far. J seasoned the lamb chops, managed to get creme fraiche and panna cotta to set properly, and took care of all of the shopping. My lone contribution has been twice (unsuccessfully both times) trying to find fresh rhubarb, which I finally gave up on this afternoon. Instead of topping the dessert with a ginger/rhubarb we'll go with balsamic strawberries. Incidentally, it's been WONDERFUL to have fresh (though not Panek-fresh, of course) strawberries in the house for the last week. I don't think I've ever eaten a strawberry without feeling the divine smile, and that's especially true if I'm eating lunch in the car on the way to rehearsal. The boys love them too, and J's been making spinach salads with them.
J Lessons
She has her three students on Monday, which meant that I loaded the kids into the Yaris and went to do our Monday errands--deposits to the bank, picking up wine, visiting the Pittsford Wegmans for produce. The boys are such stinkers. They know exactly where they can ask for sweets. When we were checking out at the liquor store James leaned an elbow up against the cash register, smiled at the cashier, and asked with a grin "So, do you have any candy?" (She gave him a dum-dum from the secret stash that he knows about.)The highlight for Owen, though, was seeing a life-sized bear head in the display of Gnarly Head wines. He saw it from the cart, pointed, shrieked, and then gave the most convincing bear growl a 17-month old is able to make. I took his picture with it, but James thought it was scary and hid behind the cart.
Wegmans trip/Deposit checks
Everyone knows it's impossible to go to Wegmans and only pick up what you were going in for. (Balsamic vinegar, more strawberries.) So we also walked out with St. Albans cheese, ice cream (not my idea), pomegranate seeds, leeks, spinach, bananas, and celeriac.
Family Exercise
We ran down Winton road to the branch library there. It's a tired-looking one story brick building that we've turned up our noses at ever since we moved out here, but we needed to get some overdue library books back and didn't want to drive all the way to Pittsford. J had actually been before and had some very nice things to say about the children's librarian. She was very sweet to the boys, and James found a bunch of Berenstein Bears books that weren't available in Pittsford. It was still just a little too cold for the boys to really enjoy sitting in the stroller, but it was a lovely long run, and we hadn't been out with the stroller as a family in over a week.
Oil Change and Tire Mount
With all the trips across the interstate I was long overdue for an oil change, and I also needed to have my all-season tires put back on. I suppose this winter was probably the one year when I could have made due without the snow tires, but on the few nights when it was really gross out I appreciated having the extra traction. Bonus to owning a house--having a spot in the basement to store four tires. (Although every time James sees them he insists that our trees need to get bigger so we can have a tire swing.)
French Grammar
Hadn't touched my French book in almost a week, but mon livre was opened again this afternoon so I could read about personal pronoun rules and possibly drive J a little nuts by repeatedly practicing the last syllable of vous invitez.
Hesiod
Officially finished the Theogony this afternoon. (Though, of course, since the last bit of the poem is missing, no one ever really finishes the Theogony.) Taking a break from hexameter, going to move onto Demosthenes as my next big classical Greek project.
I Maccabees
A little bit of the Septuagint on the couch during naptime. Loimoi is the new word I learned today--"pests" or "pestilences."
Martial
The big news about my project of reading through (and copying out, in an attempt to get a better ear for the meter) all of Martial's epigrams is that I've reached the end of one of my nice green-tint notebooks as of today. Potor nobilis--a noble drunkard. Does nobilis refer to high birth, or is it a joke about a heavy drinker of gentlemanly manners?
BCP
Today's readings were Psalm 25, a bit of the Exodus story (Moses taking his father-in-law's advice), the last little bit of I Peter, and the introduction of John the Baptist from the gospel of Matthew.
Dineson
Did not get to read any of Out of Africa today. (At least not yet.)
Fold Laundry
The laundry was sorted into three baskets as soon as the boys were upstairs for naps, and then put away after dinner. The laundry is clean, long live the dirty laundry! We are still having a bit of a laundry crisis in the house, since I reinvented the way that I fold everything, and J and I no longer have matching systems. Theoretically this should work out very well for her as I would just fold everything all the time, but I think that the guilt of watching my do it by myself is slowly getting to her.
Trumpets to Basement
Usually I don't have more than a trumpet or two upstairs at any given time, depending on what gig I am going to or arrived back from late at night. But last week, just on Thursday alone I needed flugel, Bb, C, Eb, and the picc. We randomly used B-flats for the Broadway show we played in Syracuse, and the rotary and the cornet were called for on Saturday. Anyhow, there were a lot of trumpet cases sitting out in the living room. James was upset that that his baseball field was compromised. I was upset that Owen kept on attempting to stand on the soft cases. It was in everyone's best interest to move them back to the basement where they belong.
Listen Shostakovich
Did not get done
Listen Bruch
I did listen to the Bruch with a score and mark up my part (rehearsal for this starts tomorrow) but I was driven to earbuds after the first movement when Owen started running the remote controlled car all around the downstairs.
Practice BPO folder
Done. Shostakovich likes to write high notes for the trumepts
Practice Excerpts
Done. All the other composers in the western tradition also like to write high notes for the trumpet. I did three chunks today, a big 45 minutes session in the morning, then a half-an hour after lunch and twenty minutes before dinner. J, bracing herself for the third session: "What do you need to work on now?" Me: "Well, I don't have anything else in particular up for today, it's more about finding ways to find a bunch of high Cs after you've been burning them up all morning." J: "Well, this sounds like it's just going to be everyone's favorite."
Fix Bed Squeak:
Not done yet. Will have to be tomorrow.
Blog
Doing it right now, slighly guiltily, following the disappointed comments of regular readers. I am free to type all of this because James is stuck at the table refusing to eat his stir-fry. Owen has mostly stayed out of the way, but did clothesline himself with the laptop power cord when he tried to walk off with it. Me: "I'm not sure that 'I told you so' is strong enough."
Write to K
Not done yet
Minimalia
I read this book (which I intend to blog about soon) for the Blogging program about the minimalist movement--consciously owning less, finding ways to give away what you have and fight the consumerist mentality. I've been making lists of things we can give away over the past few days--camp t-shirts that we haven't worn in years, books that we're never going to get around to reading, old silverware, etc. (By the way, last week I finished the Books Unread list I made of all the books that I owned but hadn't read. Unfortunately, since I wrote that list almost a year ago, I've acquired enough new books, none of which I've read, since I was reading the old list, to make a Books Unread 2.0 list.) Anyhow, I took a step towards the minimalist project today by loading up some books to give to friends and moving a shelf of books down to the basement that were of a more trumpet/music reference nature. Anyhow, there's more space and less clutter in the library now, which is the big ultimate goal. Definitely more updates to come on this project.
Renew library books
As noted earlier, ended up just taking them down to the Winton branch library
Call Kohls
I have a pair of Columbia boots that are just a hair too small, and I've only worn them a few times. I dug around in the basement earlier and managed to find the box they came in--with the receipt. The store policy is to accept returns up to 12 months, so I scrubbed what dirt they had acquired as best I could, and will attempt to get a size 11 at some point this week.
Mouthpieces
Selling more mouthpieces on eBay. I'd been doing this before I read the book about minimalism, but it's all in the same spirit. If anyone needs an 11C4, 10.5C, 7C cornet, or 6C mouthpiece, be sure to search on eBay. They're very reasonably priced.
Bulletin info to church
We're going to do a Roy Ringwald number called Join Hands. That guy has a great name.
Dishes
Done, although not by me. It's okay, I'll make it up to J by taking care of all of the DNI dishes.
Speaking of which, James (not having eaten his supper, which will be waiting for him tomorrow morning) has been put to bed, and it's time for DATE NIGHT IN.
And I think I made pretty good progress on my day off to-do list.
Saturday, April 2, 2016
What We're Doing
I. Owen
The bedtime routine is pretty well set. At about 7 pm James will notice that it's beginning to get dark out and start asking nervous questions about whether he has any more time to play. He'll try to negotiate for more time, and eventually settle for choosing a bedtime story. (If he's feeling particularly rascally he'll pick an impossibly long bedtime story, like Richard Scarry's Encyclopedia Britannica, or Curious George Counts 10,000 decimal places of Pi.) Owen keeps on doing his usual thing at this point, except with more frequent breaks to rest his head against a piece of furniture or someone's leg while he tugs at his left ear and sucks the first two fingers on his right hand, a sure sign that he is running out of steam.
Then they make their way upstairs. James insists that he doesn't need to potty, and is put on the potty anyway. James protests the brushing of his teeth (the toothpaste is too SPICY) but steps up to the stool beside the sink and has them brushed for the length of two choruses of Happy Birthday. (Usually it's just one chorus of Happy Birthday, but with extraordinary embellishment and drama.) He leans over the sink and spits.
Then Owen steps up. Owen is not complaining about brushing his teeth--Owen LOVES brushing his teeth. He grins when you pull out his toothbrush and stamps his little socked feet in excitement when you apply the toothpaste.
"Would you like to brush your teeth?"
"Uh-huh!" <nods> <stamp-stamp-stamp>
Then Owen gets a chorus of Happy Birthday, and I take the toothbrush out of his mouth.
And he leans over the sink and spits. Well, sort of.
He isn't tall enough to properly lean over the sink, even when he's standing on the stool. And he doesn't really spit, but he sort of blows downward.
He's just trying to be like James, and it's currently the best part of my day. I love James. He is shrewd and calculating and serious and often incredibly dour and self-important.
Owen is none of those things. But watching James' actions transposed into the key of Owen is a way to love them both even more.
II. James
I've instituted some extra reading for James after the time when his light would normally go out. We've inherited or been given several children's Bibles (with apologies to any of you who gave them to us) and I can't stand them. All the interesting details of the stories are flattened out and sanitized, and the characters are literally whitewashed. J and I have stayed up late into the night arguing about what we're supposed to be doing about a moral education for this little boy who is clearly old enough to listen to Bible stories, but has no Bible stories that resemble the actual Bible.
This Easter I told him he was going to get to stay up a little later. He was now old enough to listen to some stories without pictures. I've been reading Genesis to him, almost unchanged. (I'll say "This is the story of Noah" instead of "These are the generations of Noah," but I'm leaving in the bits about the four headwaters and the entire land of Havilah.) I don't know how much of the Bible stories he's picking up, but I'm following them with a story or two from the Book of Virtues, and I know he's listening to those. (He remembered the story of King Midas the other day.) He's awfully antsy while I read to him, and I know he'd rather be thumbing through books about Cars or Curious George, but every once in a while I can see something flicker and he'll hold still to listen to the story.
When we talked about whether or not we were going to keep a TV in the house, I insisted that I wanted James to grow up with an imaginative life that wasn't entirely derived from television worlds. He hardly ever sees the television on, but it only took one watching of Cars (and, to be fair, a fairly regular exposure to Curious George) to wreck that project. He has an incredibly powerful and all-consuming imaginative life that is completely dominated by licensed and trademarked cartoon characters. I have no idea whether his moral compass is strongly tied to the stories of Cars and George (and again, to be fair, he could do a lot worse for a moral compass than the lessons in those stories) but I feel like we're now fighting guerilla warfare to introduce elements of imagination that don't come from screens.
III. J
Do you ever feel like you have one difficult decision that consumes your entire life for a time? And that it's too complicated to resolve right away, even if you wanted to, but as long as it's hanging over your head you can't really shake off the attendant anxiety, and eventually you just want it to be over, even if it doesn't work out in your best interests?
We both had decisions like that over the last few weeks. For me it was mostly a matter of sorting out where I was playing the trumpet in the month of April. For J it was buying a dress.
Her best friend is getting married in June, and she needed to order a bridesmaid dress. I've been paying attention to the wedding plans over the course of their engagement, but more out of politeness than genuine interest.
I regard wedding planning the same way that I regard exterior landscaping--an unfortunate obligation one owes to the community that ties up a lot of energy and money for a result that I find somewhat pleasing to look at but generally much less exciting that any number of better uses and is strongly tied to unspoken customs that pressure all parties involved to feel a social display of appropriate "keeping up" is absolutely necessary.
In case you couldn't tell, I'm not particularly excited about trying to plant flowers and shovel mulch in the front yard once the weather warms up.
At any rate, I'm usually not particularly interested in the details of people's wedding plans. Now, because I dearly love the bride and groom in this wedding, I am happy to offer a portion of interest on their behalf--I want to see them happy, of course. (And by the way, if either of them happen to read this, please know that I'm sure that all of the preceding comments are a result of a fault in myself.)
J loves wedding details. She's been wanting to help with wedding details at least since October, when she flew down for a visit for the express purpose of working on details. Actually, I think that one of the sub-purposes of that visit was to look at bridesmaid dresses.
And now, in April, she still didn't have one. There had been many twists and turns in the saga which I'd have to let her relate. The big issue was that she was running out of time. She HAD to order a dress before a certain number of weeks out, or she wouldn't have it in time for the wedding.
What started as a task she was excited about became the thing that was hanging over her head to her constant dread, and eventually she wanted it all over with, even if it didn't work out in her best interest.
She ordered a dress. A couple days later she called the company and changed the order, but even with that hiccup I think she feels a lot better.
I'm still dreading the landscaping, though.
IV. Me
33 services in 21 days.
That's what I'm looking at for the first part of my April. For the record, the usual orchestra week has a cap of 8 services per week, with a guaranteed day off. Because I'm basically attempting to play full-time in two orchestras (which are over two hours apart from each other) over the next few weeks, I'll be working the equivalent of four of the highest-pressure and busiest weeks of the year in three weeks. With an audition in the middle, in case you were wondering.
On the one hand, I need to make hay while the sun shines. (The sun has been shining so far, which helps) I'm grateful for the work, and it should bring in a lot of extra money.
On the other hand, I'm not going to be home very much at all. Next week, for instance, I'll have either a rehearsal or a concert in the evening 5 out of 7 nights. That's 5 out of 7 nights that J will have to put the kids to bed on her own, and I probably won't get back home until after she's asleep. There are also way too many days, like today, when I'll have a rehearsal in the morning (we finished about noon) and then won't have a concert until 8 pm. Today I'm at the Amherst Wegmans with a big stack of books. I don't think it will be too much longer until I've finished the Documents of Vatican II.
And as boring as that sounds, here's one of the most beautiful prayers I've ever read:
We are here before You, O Holy Spirit, conscious of our innumerable sins, but united in a special way in Your Holy Name. Come and abide with us. Deign to penetrate our hearts.
Be the guide of our actions, indicate the path we should take, and show us what we must do so that, with Your help, our work may be in all things pleasing to You.
May You be our only inspiration and the overseer of our intentions, for You alone possess a glorious name together with the Father and the Son.
May You, who are infinite justice, never permit that we be disturbers of justice. Let not our ignorance induce us to evil, nor flattery sway us, nor moral and material interest corrupt us. But unite our hearts to You alone, and do it strongly, so that, with the gift of Your grace, we may be one in You and may in nothing depart from the truth.
Thus, united in Your name, may we in our every actions follow the dictates of Your mercy and justice, so that today and always our judgments may not be alien to You and in eternity we may obtain the unending reward of our actions. Amen.
The bedtime routine is pretty well set. At about 7 pm James will notice that it's beginning to get dark out and start asking nervous questions about whether he has any more time to play. He'll try to negotiate for more time, and eventually settle for choosing a bedtime story. (If he's feeling particularly rascally he'll pick an impossibly long bedtime story, like Richard Scarry's Encyclopedia Britannica, or Curious George Counts 10,000 decimal places of Pi.) Owen keeps on doing his usual thing at this point, except with more frequent breaks to rest his head against a piece of furniture or someone's leg while he tugs at his left ear and sucks the first two fingers on his right hand, a sure sign that he is running out of steam.
Then they make their way upstairs. James insists that he doesn't need to potty, and is put on the potty anyway. James protests the brushing of his teeth (the toothpaste is too SPICY) but steps up to the stool beside the sink and has them brushed for the length of two choruses of Happy Birthday. (Usually it's just one chorus of Happy Birthday, but with extraordinary embellishment and drama.) He leans over the sink and spits.
Then Owen steps up. Owen is not complaining about brushing his teeth--Owen LOVES brushing his teeth. He grins when you pull out his toothbrush and stamps his little socked feet in excitement when you apply the toothpaste.
"Would you like to brush your teeth?"
"Uh-huh!" <nods> <stamp-stamp-stamp>
Then Owen gets a chorus of Happy Birthday, and I take the toothbrush out of his mouth.
And he leans over the sink and spits. Well, sort of.
He isn't tall enough to properly lean over the sink, even when he's standing on the stool. And he doesn't really spit, but he sort of blows downward.
He's just trying to be like James, and it's currently the best part of my day. I love James. He is shrewd and calculating and serious and often incredibly dour and self-important.
Owen is none of those things. But watching James' actions transposed into the key of Owen is a way to love them both even more.
II. James
I've instituted some extra reading for James after the time when his light would normally go out. We've inherited or been given several children's Bibles (with apologies to any of you who gave them to us) and I can't stand them. All the interesting details of the stories are flattened out and sanitized, and the characters are literally whitewashed. J and I have stayed up late into the night arguing about what we're supposed to be doing about a moral education for this little boy who is clearly old enough to listen to Bible stories, but has no Bible stories that resemble the actual Bible.
This Easter I told him he was going to get to stay up a little later. He was now old enough to listen to some stories without pictures. I've been reading Genesis to him, almost unchanged. (I'll say "This is the story of Noah" instead of "These are the generations of Noah," but I'm leaving in the bits about the four headwaters and the entire land of Havilah.) I don't know how much of the Bible stories he's picking up, but I'm following them with a story or two from the Book of Virtues, and I know he's listening to those. (He remembered the story of King Midas the other day.) He's awfully antsy while I read to him, and I know he'd rather be thumbing through books about Cars or Curious George, but every once in a while I can see something flicker and he'll hold still to listen to the story.
When we talked about whether or not we were going to keep a TV in the house, I insisted that I wanted James to grow up with an imaginative life that wasn't entirely derived from television worlds. He hardly ever sees the television on, but it only took one watching of Cars (and, to be fair, a fairly regular exposure to Curious George) to wreck that project. He has an incredibly powerful and all-consuming imaginative life that is completely dominated by licensed and trademarked cartoon characters. I have no idea whether his moral compass is strongly tied to the stories of Cars and George (and again, to be fair, he could do a lot worse for a moral compass than the lessons in those stories) but I feel like we're now fighting guerilla warfare to introduce elements of imagination that don't come from screens.
III. J
Do you ever feel like you have one difficult decision that consumes your entire life for a time? And that it's too complicated to resolve right away, even if you wanted to, but as long as it's hanging over your head you can't really shake off the attendant anxiety, and eventually you just want it to be over, even if it doesn't work out in your best interests?
We both had decisions like that over the last few weeks. For me it was mostly a matter of sorting out where I was playing the trumpet in the month of April. For J it was buying a dress.
Her best friend is getting married in June, and she needed to order a bridesmaid dress. I've been paying attention to the wedding plans over the course of their engagement, but more out of politeness than genuine interest.
I regard wedding planning the same way that I regard exterior landscaping--an unfortunate obligation one owes to the community that ties up a lot of energy and money for a result that I find somewhat pleasing to look at but generally much less exciting that any number of better uses and is strongly tied to unspoken customs that pressure all parties involved to feel a social display of appropriate "keeping up" is absolutely necessary.
In case you couldn't tell, I'm not particularly excited about trying to plant flowers and shovel mulch in the front yard once the weather warms up.
At any rate, I'm usually not particularly interested in the details of people's wedding plans. Now, because I dearly love the bride and groom in this wedding, I am happy to offer a portion of interest on their behalf--I want to see them happy, of course. (And by the way, if either of them happen to read this, please know that I'm sure that all of the preceding comments are a result of a fault in myself.)
J loves wedding details. She's been wanting to help with wedding details at least since October, when she flew down for a visit for the express purpose of working on details. Actually, I think that one of the sub-purposes of that visit was to look at bridesmaid dresses.
And now, in April, she still didn't have one. There had been many twists and turns in the saga which I'd have to let her relate. The big issue was that she was running out of time. She HAD to order a dress before a certain number of weeks out, or she wouldn't have it in time for the wedding.
What started as a task she was excited about became the thing that was hanging over her head to her constant dread, and eventually she wanted it all over with, even if it didn't work out in her best interest.
She ordered a dress. A couple days later she called the company and changed the order, but even with that hiccup I think she feels a lot better.
I'm still dreading the landscaping, though.
IV. Me
33 services in 21 days.
That's what I'm looking at for the first part of my April. For the record, the usual orchestra week has a cap of 8 services per week, with a guaranteed day off. Because I'm basically attempting to play full-time in two orchestras (which are over two hours apart from each other) over the next few weeks, I'll be working the equivalent of four of the highest-pressure and busiest weeks of the year in three weeks. With an audition in the middle, in case you were wondering.
On the one hand, I need to make hay while the sun shines. (The sun has been shining so far, which helps) I'm grateful for the work, and it should bring in a lot of extra money.
On the other hand, I'm not going to be home very much at all. Next week, for instance, I'll have either a rehearsal or a concert in the evening 5 out of 7 nights. That's 5 out of 7 nights that J will have to put the kids to bed on her own, and I probably won't get back home until after she's asleep. There are also way too many days, like today, when I'll have a rehearsal in the morning (we finished about noon) and then won't have a concert until 8 pm. Today I'm at the Amherst Wegmans with a big stack of books. I don't think it will be too much longer until I've finished the Documents of Vatican II.
And as boring as that sounds, here's one of the most beautiful prayers I've ever read:
We are here before You, O Holy Spirit, conscious of our innumerable sins, but united in a special way in Your Holy Name. Come and abide with us. Deign to penetrate our hearts.
Be the guide of our actions, indicate the path we should take, and show us what we must do so that, with Your help, our work may be in all things pleasing to You.
May You be our only inspiration and the overseer of our intentions, for You alone possess a glorious name together with the Father and the Son.
May You, who are infinite justice, never permit that we be disturbers of justice. Let not our ignorance induce us to evil, nor flattery sway us, nor moral and material interest corrupt us. But unite our hearts to You alone, and do it strongly, so that, with the gift of Your grace, we may be one in You and may in nothing depart from the truth.
Thus, united in Your name, may we in our every actions follow the dictates of Your mercy and justice, so that today and always our judgments may not be alien to You and in eternity we may obtain the unending reward of our actions. Amen.
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