What's Happening

I'm finding it difficult to provide continuous interesting updates on this blog, but I know that there are a distressingly large number of people who apparently follow it regularly. I usually find the experience of writing and posting pretty therapeutic, but at some point (like right now) I should make the general disclaimer that I make no editing efforts whatsoever. Usually, as is the case right now, I sit down at the laptop with a half hour or twenty minutes left in James' nap, WRITE as quickly as possible for fifteen minutes, and then post whatever came out without looking at it again until Julie later asks me, "What did you mean when you said that you 'practicled the flumplet for a half a half an our?'"

So here's what's happening today:

I played a church gig/half-recital at Wrath of God Lutheran Church in S---use this morning, where two of my orchestra colleagues attend. They asked me to come out a few months ago and offered enough money to cover the gas and still make the gig worth it, so I dropped off a couple books of music for the pianist and then emailed back and forth with her for a few weeks until I had her convinced that we didn't really need to rehearse anything until the morning of the service. It actually went fine, once I got there. I got turned around twice coming into the city, which makes me more angry than just about anything else. I am (if I do say so myself) pretty good at keeping my composure and at least presenting a level head to the world if I'm frustrated or ticked. Getting lost, however, makes me wax wroth. As in, someone attempted to wax my wroth-hair, and now I am bellowing at the misleading road signs about how the town can't be two miles east if I just drove through it two miles west ago.

I did get there, eventually, and the gig went fine. I played the first movement of Steve S.'s Trumpet Sonata (spelled Shuwan, in the bulletin, speaking of a lack of editing), and did Endearing Young Charms (listed as Traditional Irish Folk Tune, in the bulletin) from memory, which I am increasingly convinced is the only way to do solo playing. (This is why haven't done any serious solo playing in over a year.) For the postlude I played the last movement of the Hubeau Sonata, and it was easily the best run out of the three times I've played it publicly. I love my new C trumpet.

When I got back James gave me a hug and called me "Dad" instead of "Daddy" again. He's looking less and less like a baby. We had acorn squash for lunch, which, along with drinking coffee and kissing girls, is yet another part of adulthood which turns out to be something I appreciate after all. You were right, Mom and Dad.

I've taken to running checks down to the bank as soon as they come in now instead of massing them all together for a big single deposit at the end of the week. It's a nice naptime activity, because the run to the bank and back is considerably shorter than the usual run around the block, plus I get to stand in a nice air-conditioned building for 90 seconds halfway through the run. Also, it's nice to see the account go up and to think, "Well, that could be another 2 square feet of our house!"

I'm calling around to get quotes for homeowner's insurance quotes this weekend. This is one part of the process that I actually have a bit of a jump on, since I worked for an insurance restoration company for the better part of two years while we lived in North Carolina. A few months ago I called them trying to figure out if anyone I remembered from down there could do a favor for a friend who lives in North Carolina, and I found out the company went out of business. All returns to dust, I suppose. I spent an hour on hold yesterday before I had to give up and get around to my other important business. (The Bills game) But today I talked to three actual human beings, each of which told me that they couldn't personally help me, but they would have someone give me a call Monday morning when the regional offices opened.

I'm also listening to old lesson tapes from grad school, thanks to Dad lending me a tape player. So far I haven't actually heard myself or Charlie play a note. In two afternoons of sitting at the kitchen table with headphones on, I've just heard a bunch of Chicago Symphony and New York Philharmonic stories.

It looks to be a pretty low key evening tonight. We'll take James outside for a bit, and then get ready for tomorrow, which is the big day--the day I get calls back regarding insurance quotes from three different companies. Also, our anniversary. We were going to use some old gift cards to go to dinner and see a movie, but it turns out we're going to get the house inspected and then see how much time is left. So if you see us tomorrow, wish us a happy inspectaversary!