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 |
 |
| 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 |
 |
| Owen...not staying dry at the bay |
 |
| J modeling new boots. She'll probably make me take this down once she sees it. |
 |
| Picnic time with James' friend. |
 |
| Belgian Beer that J actually liked |
 |
| Owen getting into adult things Exhibit A |
 |
| The same, Exhibit B |
 |
| And Exhibit C |
 |
| A pile of bear, monkey, and boy |
 |
| "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.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)