This and that

A few thoughts on a drizzly afternoon…

Cake in the oven is a wonderful smell. It’s birthday cake #2 for Brian, who will have a couple of friends over tomorrow evening to celebrate. His actual birthday was last week. Same kind of cake (butter yellow with chocolate peanut butter frosting) by his request.

I should be vacuuming the family room (where many of tomorrow evening’s festivities will be taking place) but I am relaxing for a few minutes, having worked on a last-minute project for work all morning. Break time.

I should also be figuring out what the kids will eat for dinner tonight. Today is the last of my evening choir rehearsals until the fall. Can I get an amen? I love my choir and I love my job, but I am ready for a break from the Thursday night grind, and the weekly dinner conundrum of having to find something easy and fast and a sure win for the kids so Earl doesn’t have to listen to their complaints about food.

Maisy had a spa day today, and I colored my hair. We both feel pretty.

I received my grade for my theology class in the mail today. I got an A! I had a good feeling after I aced (literally) the midterm, but given the epic slackoff in which I engaged afterward, I wasn’t so sure. I’m glad it all worked out.

I was pretty disappointed in some work stuff yesterday. Sometimes I try so hard, and things just don’t go as I would like them to go. It’s maddening, especially those things that flow from personality (introverted/extroverted stuff…don’t get me started.) I swam with the sharks of anger and frustration for quite a while afterwards, and then just thought, well, maybe the reason things are so hard is because that’s not how they’re going to go down. And maybe there’s a reason for that, which I don’t understand. And I started to feel a lot better after realizing that.

Shortly after I got out of the shark tank, there was a family squabble to deal with. I could hear it escalating in the other room, until the big brother started crying. Little brother had hit him in the face with a towel. Off to early bed went the little brother, who then proceeded to pout and cry and finally to tell me that no one in his family notices him, and furthermore, that we treat him like a pack of hot dogs. When I questioned him, trying not to laugh while also trying to help him see just how silly his comparison was, he downgraded himself to a package of tofu. Since you can’t get much lower than tofu, I decided to leave the poor kid alone to go to sleep. He was fine this morning.

I do wish I could keep writing. There’s something about a rainy day that puts me in a writing mood. But the timer just went off, so the cake needs to come out of the oven and that family room has to get vacuumed. Until the next rainy day, perhaps….

 

 

 

Summer music lessons!

I don’t write about it too much (except when it’s recital time!) but I teach private voice and piano lessons at my home south of Boston. The summer is a great time to keep up your (or your child’s) musical skills or learn new repertoire. It’s also the perfect time to give lessons a try without a long-term commitment.

I teach ages 5 through adult, and welcome beginners as well as those who have studied for a while. Flexible times and packages available. I’ve been teaching for more than 10 years and hold degrees in music education and voice performance, and would love to talk with you about lessons for your child or yourself! Leave a comment or email me at fayjulie at gmail dot com. I look forward to helping you reach your musical goals.

So much to be thankful for

It’s been a full day, a good day. A hot day! But I’m thankful that the cool of the evening has settled on our house and it’s comfortable once again.

Today started with my husband rolling out of bed at 5:50 and announcing that he’d decided he wanted to open the porch. Now, I am all for the porch being open. It is my favorite place to have my morning coffee. But I thought we had agreed that it could wait until the weather cooled down next week. It’s a big job, cleaning all the winter dirt from the floor, walls, windowsills and screens.  No one wants to tackle that during a heatwave. Especially me.

So I said what anyone who was hoping to sleep in would say: “I’m going to stay in bed for a while.”

Which I did, for about 10 more minutes, until guilt dragged me out of bed and forced me to walk the dog. I mean, Earl was out there vacuuming the porch at 6:03 and he hadn’t even had his coffee. The least I could do was take Maisy for her quick spin around the block.

So I did, and the coffee was ready by the time I got back. A little coffee, a little breakfast, and a bit more vacuuming, and then some more light cleaning. We were expecting guests today, who would be arriving around 9:00.

Our friends — the kids’ Memere et Pepere, our friends Elaine and Arnold, arrived and we had a wonderful visit. It’s been about two years since we’ve seen them — far, far too long. We caught up for a while and then they announced that they wanted to take us out for lunch. All of us! What a treat! So we went out.

Afterwards, the kids played their recital pieces for them and then they had to be moving along. Just as they were leaving, my in-laws arrived. They were visiting to go to Tim’s baseball game and to hear the kids play in my studio recital later in the afternoon.

By and by, Earl, Tim and my in-laws left for the game. I had a few things to do to get dinner ready and then get ready for the recital, but it was coffee time. I poured myself some iced coffee and sauntered into the living room. Unfortunately, I didn’t see the 1″ clear bouncy ball on the floor. I rolled for an inch or two and then down I went, knees slamming onto the hardwood and showering iced coffee everywhere, including onto the white-slipcovered chair.

For a while, I was in too much pain to even move. Then, as the red fog of pain began to dissipate, I took stock of the other damage. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too bad. A few drops of coffee here and there, but not an epic spill by any means. I think I sacrificed my knee to save my coffee.

I indulged in some whining on Facebook about  my fall, and was thankful for the perspective offered by my friend Christine: at least I didn’t land on my knees in a pile of Legos!

Fast-forward to the recital — a huge part of my thankfulness today. My students, including my own children, performed very well. I even played pretty well, myself — I was accompanying my voice students as well as Abby on violin. I played the Brahms — the one keeping me up at night these last weeks — quite well, including the planned faking I had decided to do on the last page. It was fine.

I was also thankful that Mozart wasn’t in the audience to hear the spectacularly wrong chord I played toward the end of “Voi, che sapete.”  I carried on, as these past 18 months of playing in church have taught me to do, but oh, my, it was bad. I mean, it not only wasn’t right; it wasn’t even in the same orbit as right. It came from deep, deep space, I think, and fortunately, passed through nearly as quickly as it arrived. Like a comet. A really fast, horrible-sounding comet.

All I can say is, Mozart, I love you man, and I’m so sorry.

Anyway — my students played well, their parents and grandparents were happy, and the church wasn’t nearly as hot as I thought it might be. There was one tiny glitch when I arrived, in that while the church was unlocked, the piano was not. Fortunately, the pastor was in the building, and was able to locate the key quickly. That was a new one; I’ve been having my recitals there since 2002 and the piano has never been locked before. I’ll put it on my list of things to check for next year.

We had our little cookies-and-juice-box reception, and were pulling out of the parking lot an hour and 15 minutes after we started. Perfect.

Then my wonderful husband made dinner and now here I am, feet up and resting my sad knee, feeling pretty satisfied with how the day turned out overall. Another thing to be thankful for: I don’t have the 8:00 mass tomorrow morning, so maybe I’ll get to sleep in a little bit, after all.

 

It’s not simple

One thing. That’s all it takes. One, little, seemingly insignificant thing, gone wrong, can throw everything out of whack.

I am sure there are scores of  examples, with far more dire consequences than even I can conjure up. But whoever said “it’s the little things” had it right. And in my case, the little thing is a pair of worn-out sneakers.

I need new sneakers. I discovered this when, after a solid week of exercising every day, I developed a mysterious ankle pain. It wasn’t excruciating by any means, and it certainly did not require medical attention. But it was big enough that it hurt when I walked, so I rested it a couple of days. I noticed it felt better. I put on my sneakers again, just to wear that day, and then noticed a few hours later that my ankle hurt again. Rats.

It’s been a really, really long time since I bought new sneakers, so it’s no wonder that the support is likely wearing out. I think I’ve had this particular pair for a year. So the thing to do is buy a new pair of sneakers, right?

Not so fast.

If I were being charitable, I’d say my feet were special. If I told the unvarnished truth, I’d say they’re as wide as the lower Mississippi.

With “special” feet like mine, one can’t just run to Sears or the Sports Authority and buy sneakers. Very few shoe manufacturers make sneakers in wide widths. There’s Payless, but if I want the shoes to actually hold together and provide a reasonable amount of support, that’s not an option. Only New Balance will do, and if I don’t want to pay $150 for a pair, then there’s only one place to go: the New Balance Factory Store.

Fortunately, said store is right here, in the Boston area. Unfortunately, it’s all the way over in Brighton. And here, dear reader, is where the little thing of a worn-out pair of sneakers becomes a big thing. I cannot get over to Brighton to get myself a decent pair of shoes until at least next week. Big whoop, right? But this means I can’t exercise until then, either. And this is what throws everything out of whack.

Longtime readers of this blog (or even acquaintances) will know that I have struggled with my weight for all my life, or at least since I was old enough to care (I think that was around age 11.) Exercise is a major part of that struggle — sometimes there is no time, sometimes there is no motivation. Right now I have both, but can’t do anything about it because of the stupid sneakers and a busy schedule this week that means I can’t fix the problem, nor can I do shoeless exercise like swimming laps. I can’t order shoes online because I need to try them on. I can buy two or three pairs once I get to the store, but that doesn’t help me this week.

In the grand scheme of things, what’s a week? It’s really more like 5 days, since I think I can go over to Brighton on Monday.

But this really isn’t about shoes. It’s about my need to control every aspect of my life, and the darned sneakers have wrested that control from my clutching hands.

Curses! I’ve been foiled by tennis shoes.

Sunday evening

Well, here it is, Sunday evening of Memorial Day Weekend. I am all alone, except for the dog, who isn’t interested in chatting right now. That’s okay. I could use a little silence and solitude.

First off, the reason I’m alone: Earl has taken the kids to go visit his parents today and tomorrow. This means I can go to bed when I want to tonight, and sleep in tomorrow, too. I can almost hear my bed calling me now, but it’s not even 7:00 yet, so maybe that’s someone else’s bed calling to them in another time zone.

Today I played the organ, chanted in Latin, and played the organ some more. I am very pleased with my feet and my choir. My feet, because they came through and didn’t play wrong notes during the three masses I played this weekend. My choir, because after an initial deer-in-the-headlights look from all of them when I first told them we’d be learning the Creed (among other things) in Latin, they dug in, prepared well, and sang like champions this morning. I was so very proud of them. They’re a terrific bunch.

We were joined by several singers from the choirs at our collaborative parish, Immaculate Conception. They really added to the sound, and it is a tremendous joy to conduct a full choir like that.

The occasion for the combined choir and all the Latin was the first mass by a priest, ordained yesterday, from our parish. Fr. John Cassani celebrated a mass of thanksgiving today, and had requested very traditional music and, as I’ve mentioned, lots of Latin. What followed was a bit of a liturgical pastiche, but it was a joyous, prayerful celebration, and I am so glad we were part of it.

So we sang all 7 verses of Veni, Creator Spiritus; a Kyrie we hadn’t done before; the Gloria, the Creed, the Sanctus, the Pater Noster, the Agnus Dei (which we already knew); plus Adoro Te Devote for Communion — again, all the verses. The choir really rose to the occasion, putting up with my picky-picky Latin pronunciation drills and learning the chant melodies, line by line, repeating after me. Very few of them read music. I tell you, it was a labor of love for them.

There were about a dozen priests on the altar, as well, including three former pastors, our current administrator (who is also the auxiliary bishop) and our new pastor, who will begin his assignment with the collaborative on June 4. That, too, made the celebration extra-special.

We had a nice reception for Fr. Cassani, and then I had a couple of hours to kill before the 5:00 mass, so I spent it doing administrative, end-of-the-year work for my teaching studio. Then it was more dancing on the pedalboard, and finally, home. Pasta for dinner and now here I am.

But soft! Now I am sure I hear my bed calling me, although it might not be calling me to sleep. I think I’m hearing something about jammies and a movie. I’d better go investigate.

AWOL writer gets a reality check

Holy smokes, I never write any more. I’ve spent a little time over the past few days thinking about why:

1. no time

2. no topics

3. creative fulfillment elsewhere

It’s a combination of the three and it ain’t gettin’ any better any time soon. And I’ve been wallowing in a big puddle of self-pity about it (well, except for the creative fulfillment elsewhere part, I suppose.)

And then I read about the horrible tornado in Oklahoma, and I say, get over yourself.

Chatty column

It’s a good thing I wrote this weekend’s column before the Marathon, because an otherwise free-ranging and pleasant conversation with my youngest child might have been much different. Here’s today’s column, coming to you from Saugerties, N.Y.