House Projects

I was home all morning and afternoon today after a long week of BPO and other obligations. Here was the schedule from the week:

Monday-AM off (Veteran's Day), Houghton in the afternoon, Hochstein in the evening
Tuesday-Leave at 8 AM for BPO, stay in Buffalo all day for 7 PM concert
Wednesday-Leave at 8 AM for BPO double rehearsal, back at 5 PM, out the door at 6:30 for Choir
Thursday-Leave at 8 AM for BPO double rehearsal, back at 5 PM, out the door at 8 for Bills game
Friday-Leave at 8 AM for BPO concert, Houghton lessons in the afternoon, Houghton concert 7 PM

J said James was much better behaved all day, since I was around. Given that he stole food, threw Lincoln logs, and pitched a hurricane-force tantrum about having to wear grippy slippers, I shudder to think what he was like earlier in the week.

Today, with two parents, was a day for getting things done. First thing I loaded up a few basketfuls of laundry and took them down to the basement. Then came the long delayed project of putting away all the clothes that are upstairs in our room. They've been sitting in big rubbermaid bins, unsorted and unstowed. There comes a dangerous point in the life of any mess, when you start to fail to see it any longer. For example, J will put a few of my ties neatly folded on one of the stairs for me to put away. (My ties always end up downstairs because when I come home from a concert I kick my dress shoes off and step into my slippers, throw my coat over the desk chair, yank my half-tied tie all the way off and throw it over the armchair.) Anywhow, the ties will accumulate on the back of the chair until she notices that it's a problem, and she'll put them on the stairs. Then, I'll see them as I'm on my way to do something else. I'll notice that they need to be brought upstairs and put away, but I'll be in the middle of saying "I don't know if Woof-Woof is still outside, but we need to get you into the bathtub before the mustard dries in your hair." I have SEEN the ties, but done nothing about them. Then perhaps the next day I'll see them again, but someone we'll be saying to me "if we turn the box spring a little bit left I don't think we'll crack the drywall too badly." Again I'll SEE the ties, but do nothing. And then, before you know, I've stopped seeing them. The ties will be right there on the stairs, but they've blended into the landscape of the steps and almost become part of the wood. It will be a Friday evening and I'll be frantically dashing up and down the stairs, yelling at J "Come on, don't I have a single black tie anywhere in this house?" I could probably step right on the pile of ties, and I wouldn't even notice it.

So this was the danger of the rubbermaid bins in our bedroom. They had sat there for over a week, and they were nearly permanent furniture in our house. The fading-to-unnoticed trick has already happened with the damage to the bathroom threshold. It was the first thing that I noticed when we did our initial walk-through of the house. "Don't worry," I told J "that's a cinch to fix. I can take care of that in one trip to Home Depot and 15 minutes of work." Now I don't even remember that there's a problem, although probably every guest who's used our bathroom looks at entrance with mild revulsion and thinks "Why don't they ever take care of that?"

Not only did we empty most of the rubbermaids, we also unloaded two boxes of pictures and wall-hangings that were chameleoning into the downstairs library. I got out my stepstool, drill, and level, and we put up lots of pictures of our family. It turns out that we only have pictures of James and O&K, so all of the rest of you need to get us pictures if you want to be up on our walls.

The big project today, however, was hanging up an enormous mirror in our bedroom. J's grandparents gave us a gorgeous solid cherry dresser with a matching mirror. The dresser is possibly the nicest piece of furniture in the house, and we wanted to set up our television on top of it so that we can watch TV in bed, keep the TV out of the downstairs area, and possibly limit James' George intake. (So far, unsuccessful. George is need to watch his self on Mommy-Daddy's bed.)

The mirror we didn't know what to do with. It didn't have any hardware to be mounted vertically on the dresser, and we didn't have room to mount in horizontally. Plus, it weighs about 400 lbs, so I got tired of holding it up at different angles in a hurry.

Good thing we bought a studfinder for just such an occasion. J and I had massive problems with the very little shelf-hanging we'd tried at previous apartments. For people whose livelihoods depend on detecting minute differences in pitch and timbre, neither of us were particularly adept at using the "knocking" method of studfinding. So when we moved into the the new place, we decided to splurge on a new studfinder. And when I say "splurge," I mean we bought the cheapest one we could find and hoped it would work.

It actually does work pretty well, although we still quadruple check every mark we make on the wall. We had a long adventure finding a screw that we could actually fasten into the stud. The first long screw we found I stripped the head with my drill, and then accidentally bent it beyond salvaging when I tried to hammer it in. (True story: I actually uttered the phrase "I just got my flannel shirt caught in my drill case" a few days ago). The second screw I successfully drove into the wall and screwed in almost to the point where we wanted, and then the head broke off, leaving the body of the screw stuck in the stud for all eternity. Finally (in a new hole) we got a screw in securely, I bloodied up my finger, and we hung the mirror.

We both let go and took a ginger step back. I nudged the mirror and it stayed up. I put the level up, and said "close enough." I nudged the mirror again, and it stayed up. I think we're actually figuring out this home-ownership stuff a little bit at a time. So if you want to see any of our handiwork, come on over, and bring a picture of yourself. I'd be more than happy to hang it up. Also, keep your eyes open for my trumcor black soft mute while you're over, because that's definitely chameleoned into a couch somewhere. And step carefully, because I still feel like that mirror could come down at any moment.

J's Morning (or, reasons why J needs a hug)

7:15 AM
Husband: Asleep, completely passed out after staying out till midnight watching the Bills game and consuming chicken wings and beer. Making noises/movements associated with upset stomach/mild hangover. Did not get up with alarm clock.

Toddler Son: Holding animated conversation in his bedroom with several stuffed animal friends.

Infant Son: Has just begun to whimper and cry in bassinet

To Husband: "I'm going to get the boys up. Are you feeling okay?"
Husband: "unnhh."
"I'd really like to take a shower this morning, and I can only do it while you're here. Can I leave Owen with you."
"I feel like I'm gonna die."
"You kind of look like it too. How many wings did you eat?"
"I only had two. I had two wings and two beers. Why do I feel this terrible?"
"There's something about that combination. How was the game?"
"It was awful. The Bills suck."

J gets up, gets Infant Son out of bassinet, changes diaper, brings Infant Son in to sleeping Husband.

"Okay, can I leave him with you? Roy? Roy? Are you awake?"
"What?"
"I need to take a shower. I'm going to get James up and leave Owen with you, okay?"

Opens door to Toddler's room.

Toddler Son "Hi, Mommy. We have some Cinnamon Cereal?"
"We're out of Cinnamon Cereal, honey. Let's change your diaper, okay?"
"No, no fanks."

Toddler Son makes his way downstairs, cannot be pursued because J is still holding Infant Son

"James, can we put some grippy slippers on your feet for going down the stairs?"

Toddler Son ignores her.

"Roy, are you awake?"

No answer

J nurses Infant Son downstairs. Husband is heard getting out of bed and getting into shower. Toddler Son makes his way back upstairs to collect armful of Friends. Toddler Son slips halfway down the stairs because he isn't wearing grippy slippers and falls down the rest of the stairs, getting bloody mouth in the process.

Toddler Son: "WAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"I'm coming Sweetie, what happened?"

Puts Infant Son down in living room, he just finished nursing and hasn't been burped

Toddler Son "I NEED MAH GINKYYY!!!!!"
Husband "What's going on? Did you fall down the stairs?"
"Honey, you're completely soaked! You're getting water all over the stairs."

Husband has come down the stairs half covered in a towel, not having dried off at all, dripping water everywhere.

Toddler Son "I NEED GEORGE AND STEEEBEN!!!"
"Come here sweetie, let's fix your mouth."
Toddler Son "I NEEED THEM!!!!"

J gets damp paper towel and cleans up Toddler Son while Infant Son fusses beside the couch. Husband comes downstairs in black suit with shirt untucked and belt unbuckled, puts on water for coffee, lies on living room floor in fetal position.

Toddler Son: "I need my friends."
"Okay, first we need to change your diaper."
Toddler Son, beginning to cry: "No, I no wanna diaper change. I need...I need to play iPad."
"We aren't going to play iPad, we need to change your diaper."
Infant Son: "waah...waah...waahh!!"
"Roy, can you get him?"
Husband: "Yeah, I've got him. Sheesh, I swear I only ate two wings. I feel awful."
Toddler Son: "Mommy, where the iPad be? George needs it."

Husband picks up Infant Son, lies back down on floor with Infant Son lying on his chest.

"Honey, he hasn't been burped yet, he's going to spit up all over your suit."
Husband: "Okay."

J changes diaper of Toddler Son, brings him back downstairs. Husband and Infant Son are both passed out on the floor.

Husband: "Do you want me to watch the kids so you can take a shower?"
"No, I think I'll just skip the shower this morning. Is this your water boiling."
Husband: "....yeah."
"Should I pour your coffee for you?"
Husband: "Yes. Thank you."
Toddler Son: "Now we do some iPad?"

Husband gets up and hands Infant Son to J. Infant Son immediately spits up all over J.

Husband: "Okay, I gotta go to my concert. See you tonight!"

Episodes

I.
I brought James his bowl of cereal. Cinnamon Cereal. It's the Aldi version of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and he thinks it's spectacular. J bought a box of it for me over the summer on a vacation week, and I turned my nose up at it. "Why would I eat that? That's kid's cereal!" (This was dishonest of me. I love sugary cereals. I always eat the worst-for-you cereal I can find when we're visiting her parents.) I didn't get into it then, so James got the box, and James loved it. He loves it so much that he insists on sipping out all the milk with a straw once he's finished the actual cereal part. And he hardly ever finishes all of the actual cereal part with anything else.

Buying Cinnamon Cereal is a once a month treat for him. When he knows it's in the house I usually hear him making noise in his bedroom earlier than usual. At about 7:30 or so I'll go up to his room and open the door. This morning he was sitting on the edge looking at the door, and as soon as he saw my face he said "Hi Daddy, we have some Cinnamon Cereal?" He asks for it when he gets up from his afternoon nap too, and then when we tell him he can't have cereal at 4 in the afternoon, would he care for cucumbers and hummus, he starts to sob that he needs it and he wants it to be morning so he can have cereal again. His deep disappointment is worsened by the fact that he's in the midst of a horrible sugar crash at that point after a morning of being out-of-control wired.

So this morning, I poked my head in his door and he said "Hi Daddy! We have some Cinnamon Cereal?"

I brought him downstairs, and went into the kitchen as he scrambled into his booster seat.

"I wanna big bowl."
"I'll pour you a big bowl."
"Make sure my bowl is big."
"Okay, it's a big bowl of cereal."
"I want lots."
"Yup."

I'd eaten already, but I needed to leave in 20 minutes, so I repacked my gig bag while I sat at the table with him and chatted.

"Daddy?"
"Yes?"
"You will not go anywhere today."
"What's that?"
"You will not go anywhere today."
"Hmm...well, I do need to go to rehearsal today."
"Why you need to go to rehearsal?"
"Why it's your job?"
"Because hat's what I do to get money."
"Why you need to get money?"
"We use money to buy Cinnamon Cereal. So I'm going to go to rehearsal today to get some more money to buy more Cinnamon Cereal. That's how we pay for it."
"You be back by suppertime?"
"Um, I don't think I'll be back by suppertime today."
"When you be back?"
"I'll be back a little after bedtime. Should I come say good night to you?"
"Yup."

J padded down the stairs holding Owen a few minutes later.
"Good morning, James! How's your Cinnamon Cereal?"
"Mommy, I'm havin' lots in my big bowl. Daddy is gonna go to rehearsal to buy me more."


II.
My carpool sat around a table at Wegmans with empty lunchplates stacked in the middle of the table and half-full cups of tea (really hot toddies, thanks to a surreptitious bottle in a handbag) steaming in front of us.

"How's the outlet table?"
I craned my neck to check.
"Still taken."
There's only one table with access to a power outlet in the Dewitt Wegmans. It's almost always taken when we arrive, usually by an old person who isn't even plugging anything in. We wait until they leave, and then we descent to power our devices as we kill the four or five hours until concert time.

"Okay guys, I need an idea for a date with J on Sunday night."
"Dinner and a movie."
"It needs to be something we can do in the house, because we won't have childcare. And it needs to be cheap. On the free side of cheap, actually."
"Hmm...so no dinner out?"
"Nope."
"You should...play a game. Bananagrams is fun."
"We don't have Bananagrams, but that could work."
"You should make dessert together."
"You can spend a little bit of money, right?"
"Yeah, a little."
"Okay, if you to a Joann's Fabric--"
"I'm curious to see where this is going to go."
"Yeah, what does a bass trombone player do at Joann's Fabric?"
"Shut up. So, if you go to Joann's Fabric, and you buy some spare fabric you could make a blanket together."
"That could be really nice, actually."
"Just to confirm, this is something you've done before?"
"Shut up."
"Can you make dinner together?"
"I'd like to give her a break from making dinner together."
"Can you keep her out of the kitchen and make dinner for her?"
"Possibly...but I'd kind of like to hang out with her, and I have trouble in the kitchen sometimes. Like with pizza, I've had no luck at all."
"Maybe you should have her make dinner while you practice Clarke Studies. That sounds like a great date all around."
"That's how it usually seems to go."

"Hey, I think they're getting up from the corner table!"
"Nope, just stretching. False alarm."

III.
"Thank you all very much for your patience. The committee would like to thank you all for your playing this afternoon, they said they heard some really, really fine playing and that the level was phenomenal across the board. They are going to hold one more round, a final round, and they'd like to hear four out of the ten of you. Okay, 4 out of 10 chance, those are good odds. So, for the last round, the committee would like to hear numbers 102, say 109, number 104, say 109, number 108, please let the last number be 109, and number 110. $*&# it. The rest of you, good job, sorry it didn't work out this time, thanks for coming down.

"Hey congrats, play well in the final round."
"Thanks, good to see you again."
"Congrats, good luck!"
"Safe travels back."
"See you at the next one."

"Hi, my name is Roy Smith, I have a reservation to fly from Charlotte to Rochester tomorrow morning? Yes, that's the one. Yes. Yes, I was wondering if there was any chance that I could get out on an earlier flight this evening. At 7:00? Yeah, that'd be great. Now, what what sort of fees would there be to get on the earlier flight? Oh, really? Wait, I'd get $10 back? That's fantastic? There's no fee, and I can go home tonight?"

And that is the story of how Southwest, even though they advertise too much during football games, is a wonderful organization. The orange juice was good too.

Brothers

"James Bear, would you like to meet your baby brother?"
"Nope."
"Okay...well, here he is. James, this is your baby brother Owen."
"George, are you scared." <Curious George nods his head> "George is scared of Owen."

"Okay James, let's go to the store. Now listen, you know that Mommy and I love you very much, right? And your baby brother doesn't change that?"
"When is Owen gonna go back to HIS house?"

"Why we need to buy some ginkies?"
"We need to by some ginks for your baby brother. He would like to go to bed with a ginky just like you do."
"This ginky is not for him. This ginky is for me."
"No, these are tiny ginks. These are for little babies."
"Owen is not want this ginky. He is want me to have it."

"Daddy, my baby brother wants that Thomas piggy-bank."
"Hmm...are you sure that maybe it isn't James who wants a new piggy-bank."
"He needs it."
"Well, we can get you a piggy-bank, but it can just be for you. Do you want to have it all to yourself and not share it with your baby brother?"
"Yup."

<Owen sneezes>
"Hey, what he do?"
"Baby Owen sneezed! Bless you, baby Owen."
"He made a bless-you."

"Heavenly Father, tonight we pray for Mommy and Daddy, for James Bear and for Owen Bear."
"No, no, he is not Owen Bear."
"For James Bear and for Owen Bear."
"Nope."

"Do you want to watch me change Owen's diaper?"
"Yup."
<climbs up on the side of the changing table>
"See how little Owen's diapers are? You'll have to show him how big boys go on the potty once he gets a little bigger."
"Nope."
<Owen starts to cry>
"He is need is George."
<Scoots down and finds Baby George from Owen's bassinet>

"James, do you like having a baby brother?"
"No, no fanks."
"Do you know all of your uncles? Like Uncle Sam and Uncle Oliver and Uncle Calvin and Uncle Lucas?"
"Wanna watch a George?"
"All of your uncles are my brothers, and we used to be little boys just like Owen."
"Wanna watch a George?"
"And my favorite part of growing up was having lots and lots of brothers."
"Wanna watch a George?"
"And Aunt Martha."
"George is want to watch hisself."

"I need to practice for a bit. Do you think that baby Owen will like the trumpet?"
"No, it is too loud. He will cry."

"You need to finish your pizza."
"I don't wanna eat pizza, I wanna get down."
"Do you think that your baby brother should finish your pizza?"
"No, he would not eat that. He is TOO little."

The Story of the Birth of Owen

I was walking into an RPO rehearsal, buzzing my burnt-out lips and hoping the conductor didn't spend too much time on Alexander Nevsky today. I'd already played two kiddie shows full of Jurassic Park and Star Wars earlier that morning, and now I had two back to back rehearsals of film music in Rochester. I was going to need an ice pack by the time the day was over.

I circled up to the fourth or fifth level of the parking garage and parked the car. As I was pulling my trumpets out of the backseat I felt my phone buzzing. Pulling it out of my pocket, I saw that it was J.
"Hi, what's up?"
"My water just broke."

I stood still in the garage for a second. The baby wasn't due for almost another two WEEKS. And that was just the due date...James didn't come for another ten days after that.

"I'm not in labor yet, but I think this baby is coming in the next twenty four hours."
"Do we need to go into the hospital?"
"I'm not sure yet, I'll call in."
"Okay, I'm going to let somebody know I won't be at rehearsal."

I flagged down the personnel manager, got myself excused, and drove home. J met me at the door looking fairly calm, all things considered, and we were shortly joined by our sister in law K. When James was born--and I'm going to try to treat Owen as his own person as much as I can throughout his growing up years, and avoid constantly comparing him to James--when James was born, we were almost panicky with nervous energy and anticipation. It didn't help that we had an extra week and a half to get up-tight about the whole thing.

This time, J met me at the door and told me that there were still some boxes to be unpacked in the upstairs bedroom, and she was going to work with K on setting up the baby's room some more. About to have a baby, ho hum.

I went out for some hospital supplies that evening--we remembered what the food was like from last time--and J finished packing the hospital bag that we were going to get around to once we'd finished moving in. The contractions started coming, and I'm afraid to say that she didn't get much sleep that night. I slept like a rock. She woke me up at 6 AM, and said it was time to go.

That was about the lowest point for her, I think. The contractions were still pretty irregular, but they were lasting a long time and she was in considerable "discomfort." I told her repeatedly that she could swear if she needed to, but she didn't bite. She did throw up, though. I threw on some jeans, made a pot of coffee downstairs, and rang the on-call doctor a few times. He never called back.

At 7 AM we gave up on waiting for the on-call doctor and drove to the hospital. We drove to the wrong hospital, actually. What exactly led us to Highland Hospital instead of Strong varies depending on who you ask. My version of events (the true version) is only available by private request, because J just did me a pretty significant favor by birthing me a son. The other version (which is kind of like a tall tale or a fable) involves me not looking up directions carefully enough.

Anyway, we arrived at Strong a few minutes later and J was wheeled up to triage while I parked the car. When we did this with James we were completely lost in the hospital maze before we found our way up to where we were going. This time I knew exactly which back staircase would take me where I wanted to go, and I asked the coffee shop what varieties they had out, since I'd be back down in a bit.

Perhaps the biggest scare of the morning was when we found out that J might be too far along already to receive an epidural. Fortunately, the anesthesiologist (everyone's favorite person) squeezed us in, and then J felt a lot better. It was about 9:00 when J turned over comfortably onto her side and I collapsed in the big armchair beside her.

"You know, I'd be on the road to rehearsal right now if this was a normal day."
"I'd be getting James ready to go to a sitter, because I'd have work this afternoon."
"We'd probably be making lists of things that need to be unpacked and projects around the house."
"You'd have lessons?"
"Probably. And I'd need to practice too."
"This is much more relaxing."
"And we can say his name now. Owen, Owen, Owen."
"Have you decided on a middle name yet?"
"I want to get a look at him before I decide for sure."

And that was how we had the most relaxing morning we'd shared together in many weeks. We had no mortgage paperwork to fill out, no boxes to pack, no three-year old to look after, and no rehearsals to attend. We talked about the World Series and some folks from church. It was really pretty nice.

The actual birth part went pretty smoothly too. Unlike James (not that I'll be comparing Owen to James throughout their childhoods) there was no perceived risk of meconium (which I pronounced "merconium" several times before I heard the correct pronunciation) for this delivery, so there were fewer doctors and attendants in the room. The pushing lasted less than fifteen minutes, and I didn't pass out this time.

At 12:06 on October 30th, much earlier than expected but very welcome nonetheless, Owen came into the world. He mewed a little bit, and the doctor asked me whether we had a name. I was tearing up, and had to take a minute. "Owen Nicholas!" I said.

They laid him on J's chest and cleaned him off--he was rather cheesy--and we gazed at our new son. He looks just like his big brother in so many ways, but now we have a baby again. We have a baby that stays still for photos and wants to be held, and doesn't talk, and is helpless in nearly every way. It's hard to believe that James was ever so tiny...and I suppose the lesson is that baby Owen won't be tiny for too long.

J was great. I'd like to think that we both did a lot better this time around, but she was definitely a champ about the whole process. She's convalescing nicely with the help of her Mom, and we're trying to acclimate the brothers to each other. (More on that to come later, of course.)

I think that when I remember back on that week years from now and think about how we moved into our first house and had a baby within a single week, I'll think about how nuts we were and how crazy it all must have felt. But actually, baby Owen, when you came into the world, it was a pretty peaceful, beautiful morning.

The Best of the New

About this time last year I wrote about how much we were loving our new apartment in Brighton/Pittsford on a beautiful fall morning when we took a walk down to Barnes and Noble. It was on that very trip that we bought George, who is now a year old. (Sorry we missed your birthday, George.)

There's a lot to love about our new house, one year later. I love the smell of the brand new carpet, which we weren't expecting to put in, but which has drastically improved the odor of the downstairs. I don't think you could tell a cat ever lived in this house now, unless you are in one particular corner of the basement.

I love having our own laundry machine downstairs, and not needing to worry about sharing it with the neighbors.

I love going to Home Depot, and knowing that whatever it is we need to pick up is for us and our home, not something we need to haggle about with a landlord.

I love the playground across the street. It has a rock wall (apparently James can climb rock walls), a couple of big slides, and most importantly, a baseball diamond. We went over there for the first time on Sunday night, and as soon as I showed James where the baseball diamond was he took off running the bases...and he didn't stop until I told him we could come back the following day and run them some more. (Maybe I should let him stay up and watch a game of the World Series this week.)

I love gorgeous hardwood floors, and enough storage space in the garage and basement to put our boxes of stuff somewhere out of sight.

Most of all, I love what I'm going to be able to do when James goes to bed tonight...practice in my very own basement without needing to drive to a church or a hall.

J looks pretty pleased as well. She got back yesterday from a checkup with a 3D ultrasound of the new baby. It's really a baby in there, with little fingers and toes and a face. A face that looks EXACTLY like his big brother's. ("It's 'nother one James!")

So right now I'm waiting out a funeral in the sanctuary where I teach lessons in Lima...and once I'm done teaching I can't wait to go home!

Brass or Woodwind?

Every week I ride in a carpool of orchestra musicians from Rochester to Syracuse. Usually the carpool is comprised of brass players, but sometimes there are woodwind players that ride along. Listed below are verbatim quotes from the trip. Test your instrument personality recognition skills to see if you can tell whether a woodwind player or a brass player is responsible for the quote.


"Oh, you eat before you play? I could never blow that into my instrument!"

"Is Ben David asleep? Let's see if we can put this cowboy hat on his head without him waking up..."

"I'm a little worried about the temperature of my instrument, so I think I'll keep it here in the car with me."

"So I bumped into Lisa at a concert the other day, and she mentioned how she had your leiderhosen in her trunk, and I thought, 'gee, I should probably pick those up for you.'"

"You know, when I finished my theory degree, such-and-such a professor gave me a hug as I walked across the stage and it just made me cry."

"I would volunteer to pat you on the hiney, but I don't think your wife would be thrilled about that."

"I'll go as fast as I can, but it takes me a little longer to pack up my instrument than it does for you.

"Laserhosen, I mean leiderhosen. Wait, laser-hosen would be even better. Pew-pew, pew-pew!"

"Would you guys like to come over to my house between rehearsals and watch a foreign film?"

"Nah, we'll just ignore everything she does on the podium and play loud in the concert."

"I try not to eat too many of those cookies they put out at the break. I'm on a diet."

"Is Ben David still asleep? Let's see if we can put this baseball cap on top of the cowboy hat!"'

"I had a really bad reed for that whole first half."

"My beard feels funny today."

"I don't do much during Jurassic Park. I just play whole notes."

"I think the dress is concert black. Semi-formal concert black, casual top. Except the bass trombone is concert plaid."