Careful the things you say, Children will listen
Careful the things you do, Children will see, and learn...
Gosh, I just love that musical. I don't have a formal thought so I think I will just jot things down.
Memorial Day was not about the pool opening this year like it has been for the whole rest of my life. This year it was about hay bailing. Every field close by cut the hay, let it lay, then fluffed it and bailed it into big round bales. Then, it came to my farm, to go in the barn.
It occurs to me that I don't know how to spell bale, or bail. hmm...
I planted flowers for the first time in my life. I now have valias, petunias, a rose bush and a butterfly bush. John placed the bushes. Thank goodness. I couldn't decide where to place them. Appropriately, John planted the rose bush over Rosa's grave. He's such a smart man.
I made a 97 on my first American History exam. I also have 10/10 on all my presentations. So far I have done two, which is all that is required for the class and every other one is extra credit. I am signed up for four. The first one, I wrote letters on behalf of Abigail Bartlett and Mary Adams to demonstrate what the colonists were thinking at the time of the Declaration of Independence. I also brought in my copy of the Declaration, the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. What, you don't have a cool copy of the most important documents in the history of this country lying around your house? The second presentation was on polling. I used the West Wing for that one and took a poll of the class, which was my partners idea. The next one is on Congress. I was thinking of creating a mock congress with ranchers and shepherders instead of repubs and demos. I figure there are three bills that have to pass: one they all agree on, and two they don't. I'll probably get an A for that one too.
I made a B on my first Money and Banking test, which is good because it is WAY hard. Who really cares what happens to the GDP when the Fed injects money into the economy? I just want to balance your books.
The Martini Gavotte is polished off. I am moving onto bigger and better things, like Minuet 2, the extended version.
I got sunburned from planting flowers. I wore a funny hat and everything. Ahh..summer.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
As a reminder from God that I am on the right path, I discovered this wedding gift. I went to the storage unit today determined to unpack a box that had all my jewelry in it. What I found was this bowl. I was so surprised. It is a wedding gift from my violin teacher. Her card read "Wishing you a life together filled with joy and music."
Thanks Dr. J., I'm working on the music part as we speak.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Ah, the Martini Gavotte. I didn't know realize what the Martini Gavotte was for when I was growing up. It was just another song in another book that was meant to graduate from by the end of the school year so that I could play in the spring concert and get an award. At the top of the page in my Book 3 of the Gavotte, there are four numbers across the top: 3 4 3 4 low 1. My only guess to this cryptic notation is that those were the fingerings that wer the hardest. There are also fours that are scribbled all over on the song and low ones. Tonation is hard for a young person playing violin. Tonation is hard for me now. I have always had a hard time with my fourth finger. When I would play with the pinkie it would go flat, like a locked knee. I've know that it was not supposed to do that. Dr. Jacobson used to try and help me get it so it would curve like the rest of the fingers. Never happened. It still goes flat. I remember at one point her yanking my elbow forward and the curve happened. Unfortunately, I never really practiced it and thus she couldn't get me to do it correctly. Today, I practiced it. I pulled the elbow around and practiced a curved pinkie fourth finger on every string. My pinkie is weak and the sound was not great, but I practiced. Now my pinkie is sore and my arm aches a little, but hopefully my hand will remember the skill and I can apply it. When I played the piece again, sometimes my finger still went flat, but sometimes not. It is like every thing else that is: discipline, practice, it is a process of learning. It is good to be playing music again.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
I am listening to Beetoven's Symphony No. 9. It is the cd that my Dad is on, it won a grammy. You are welcome to stop reading this blog now in order to go put in your own copy of that music to play along.
I'll wait.
When I was a little girl, when I was in the womb, my parents were producing music. You know how you see those commercials of a woman playing music to her baby belly with the headphones wrapped around her and oh aint that cute, she'll have a smart baby because she is playing it Mozart? My parents didn't need headphones for me to listen to music. They made music. You are guaranteed that I my Mom's baby belly was rocked by some of the racket my Dad makes with his voice. He still does that today. He'll be in the kitchen reading the newspaper and something will trigger a song in his head and bursts into full vocal operatic baritone beauty. (And it always sounds good in the kitdhen, good acoustics) That is the way my family is. We sing a Christmas blessing before Christmas dinner. If the Pettits are with us, we sing in four part harmony. I think I have been going to choir practice since before I was born. I know the entire soprano part to the Halleluia Chorus and I have never read the score. My friend Matt Durden, he knew he bass part. He actually reads the score now though. My bet is that he went to choir practice last night. My parents sang, played instruments, led choirs. I had music not just in my played into my Mama's belly, it was in my blood, it was in my ambiotic fluid. It helped give me life.
My brother, kind man that he is, took me as his date to the symphony. The Atlanta Symphony. He didn't know where it was. That's funny because I have gone to the symphony so much, I can't not know where it is. It is next to the house that belongs to an elderly woman, who wouldn't sell her land to AT & T so they built a skyscraper less than 50 feet from her back door. It is still there. On the other side of the symphony, there is the HIGH. When I was in elementary school we used to take field trips there and all the kids would ooo and ahhh. I loved to look up. It seemed as though the ceilings were as far away as the sky.
When I walked into Symphony Hall with my kind brother, I felt like I was missing a huge part of me. I felt like I had walked into my home. That is silly to say because I am not a season ticket holder of the symphony. It is not something that my parents raised me back stage. I am not that dramatic. I don't think it was the place that made me feel that way. I think it was knowing that there were musicians there. Music was there.
At some point in the fantastic evening of the Berlioz Requiem (which who writes a death march that is overwhelmingly fabulous?), my brother asked me what I was doing musically lately. Nothing. I'm doing nothing. I listen in my car. I sing to worship at church and everyone wants me in the choir. I am doing nothing.
I took piano from the time I was eight until I was twenty-one. I played Chopin nocturnes. I took violin from the time I was three until I was eighteen and then again at 21 for a life saving one hour credit that allowed me to graduate college. I sang in youth choirs. I sang solos at church even though I wasn't that great.
What are you doing with music?
I have been disturbed ever since. At one point my husband was going to buy me a piano and then, he didn't. I wish he had. I wish we had the money now to buy one.
What I do have is an instrument that is pitiful at best. I do have my violin. It is a student model. It does not make a great noise, but then again, I probably couldn't make a great noise on it either.
I love this part in the symphony. It makes the hairs on my arms stand up. It is best heard at a loud volume. It will blow your hair back.
I pulled out my violin tonight, just to see. I figured if I tuned it, the strings would break. They did. The hair on the bow fell off. Not all of it, but a significant amount. There was no rosin in the case. Turns out it was on the floor next to the case. The bridge had to be reset. I dusted it. My mechanical tuner had a dead battery. I couldn't open the case to see what kind it needed. John got it open and it needs a 9V.
I am thinking, I am in school right now. There are violin teachers at the school. I am not really going for music. I am going to be a CPA. Same language, different dialect.
So what am I doing with music? I am thinking about it. I am listening to it. Maybe, just maybe tomorrow, when I get new strings, I will play it.
I'll wait.
When I was a little girl, when I was in the womb, my parents were producing music. You know how you see those commercials of a woman playing music to her baby belly with the headphones wrapped around her and oh aint that cute, she'll have a smart baby because she is playing it Mozart? My parents didn't need headphones for me to listen to music. They made music. You are guaranteed that I my Mom's baby belly was rocked by some of the racket my Dad makes with his voice. He still does that today. He'll be in the kitchen reading the newspaper and something will trigger a song in his head and bursts into full vocal operatic baritone beauty. (And it always sounds good in the kitdhen, good acoustics) That is the way my family is. We sing a Christmas blessing before Christmas dinner. If the Pettits are with us, we sing in four part harmony. I think I have been going to choir practice since before I was born. I know the entire soprano part to the Halleluia Chorus and I have never read the score. My friend Matt Durden, he knew he bass part. He actually reads the score now though. My bet is that he went to choir practice last night. My parents sang, played instruments, led choirs. I had music not just in my played into my Mama's belly, it was in my blood, it was in my ambiotic fluid. It helped give me life.
My brother, kind man that he is, took me as his date to the symphony. The Atlanta Symphony. He didn't know where it was. That's funny because I have gone to the symphony so much, I can't not know where it is. It is next to the house that belongs to an elderly woman, who wouldn't sell her land to AT & T so they built a skyscraper less than 50 feet from her back door. It is still there. On the other side of the symphony, there is the HIGH. When I was in elementary school we used to take field trips there and all the kids would ooo and ahhh. I loved to look up. It seemed as though the ceilings were as far away as the sky.
When I walked into Symphony Hall with my kind brother, I felt like I was missing a huge part of me. I felt like I had walked into my home. That is silly to say because I am not a season ticket holder of the symphony. It is not something that my parents raised me back stage. I am not that dramatic. I don't think it was the place that made me feel that way. I think it was knowing that there were musicians there. Music was there.
At some point in the fantastic evening of the Berlioz Requiem (which who writes a death march that is overwhelmingly fabulous?), my brother asked me what I was doing musically lately. Nothing. I'm doing nothing. I listen in my car. I sing to worship at church and everyone wants me in the choir. I am doing nothing.
I took piano from the time I was eight until I was twenty-one. I played Chopin nocturnes. I took violin from the time I was three until I was eighteen and then again at 21 for a life saving one hour credit that allowed me to graduate college. I sang in youth choirs. I sang solos at church even though I wasn't that great.
What are you doing with music?
I have been disturbed ever since. At one point my husband was going to buy me a piano and then, he didn't. I wish he had. I wish we had the money now to buy one.
What I do have is an instrument that is pitiful at best. I do have my violin. It is a student model. It does not make a great noise, but then again, I probably couldn't make a great noise on it either.
I love this part in the symphony. It makes the hairs on my arms stand up. It is best heard at a loud volume. It will blow your hair back.
I pulled out my violin tonight, just to see. I figured if I tuned it, the strings would break. They did. The hair on the bow fell off. Not all of it, but a significant amount. There was no rosin in the case. Turns out it was on the floor next to the case. The bridge had to be reset. I dusted it. My mechanical tuner had a dead battery. I couldn't open the case to see what kind it needed. John got it open and it needs a 9V.
I am thinking, I am in school right now. There are violin teachers at the school. I am not really going for music. I am going to be a CPA. Same language, different dialect.
So what am I doing with music? I am thinking about it. I am listening to it. Maybe, just maybe tomorrow, when I get new strings, I will play it.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Friday, May 09, 2008
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Who am I to make you wait?
I thought about waiting until I got back to blog, but...
I miss my farm. I never thought that would be true. I mean I got to ride in a golf cart, got to go to the symphony and got to play with the prettiest dog in the world. So, why would I miss the farm?
I guess it has become home.
My stepson who is a black belt in karate is keeping the dogs and staying at the farm. I feel like this means that he will take care of my home. He is supposed to be installing some cabinetry on top of just eating us out of house and home and using our tv and internet. So not just taking care of my home, but improving it. That will be cool to come home to, a new cabinet to put stuph in.
I had no intention of being away from home so long, but things happen and then the homesickness sets in after so long. It will go away after while. I don't remember getting homesick too much when I was little. I remember calling my parents after two weeks at camp and asking if I could stay two more. They said no. But there was no homesickness then. So why now? I can't rightly say. Maybe it is part of this grown up stuph.
I will be glad when I can pet my dogs instead of someone else's dog or cat. I will be glad when I can go to my refridgerator, eat my no sugar, no white flour food. I will be glad to wake up in my own bed with my own quilt and my own teddy bear. Yes, at home, I sleep with a teddy bear. Two actually: Madison and Snickers. I have had snickers since I was one and madison since I was 21. They are my safety to make sure that no one takes me too seriously, including myself.
Although, I am traveling. This is not something I have had an opportunity to do much in my life. I get to spend good quality time with family. They are all people who I love and love me. This makes the homesickness, not so sickening. It makes me recognize the wealth I have in my life that is not nearly true for others. Did you know that one in five children are born into poverty in the United States? In the US? Can you believe? I have never been there. I have had the love of a mother and father, the love of a brother, the love of God, and here recently, the love of a husband and his family. That is still new and not sure what to do with all the extra new love that has come into my life. I just do my best to give it to other whom I run into along the way. I pray for strangers on the prayer list. I talk to anyone who calls me for help. There is only so much love you can store and you just have to give it away. The nice thing about having all the love is that there is less home sickness. So I guess I will just lean on the love a little more. There is a Bible verse that comes to mind: Trust the Lord with all your heart, lean not on your own understanding. And love the Lord, your God with heart, your soul and your mind. This helps too. So I will. I will miss my farm another day. ah the simple things...
I thought about waiting until I got back to blog, but...
I miss my farm. I never thought that would be true. I mean I got to ride in a golf cart, got to go to the symphony and got to play with the prettiest dog in the world. So, why would I miss the farm?
I guess it has become home.
My stepson who is a black belt in karate is keeping the dogs and staying at the farm. I feel like this means that he will take care of my home. He is supposed to be installing some cabinetry on top of just eating us out of house and home and using our tv and internet. So not just taking care of my home, but improving it. That will be cool to come home to, a new cabinet to put stuph in.
I had no intention of being away from home so long, but things happen and then the homesickness sets in after so long. It will go away after while. I don't remember getting homesick too much when I was little. I remember calling my parents after two weeks at camp and asking if I could stay two more. They said no. But there was no homesickness then. So why now? I can't rightly say. Maybe it is part of this grown up stuph.
I will be glad when I can pet my dogs instead of someone else's dog or cat. I will be glad when I can go to my refridgerator, eat my no sugar, no white flour food. I will be glad to wake up in my own bed with my own quilt and my own teddy bear. Yes, at home, I sleep with a teddy bear. Two actually: Madison and Snickers. I have had snickers since I was one and madison since I was 21. They are my safety to make sure that no one takes me too seriously, including myself.
Although, I am traveling. This is not something I have had an opportunity to do much in my life. I get to spend good quality time with family. They are all people who I love and love me. This makes the homesickness, not so sickening. It makes me recognize the wealth I have in my life that is not nearly true for others. Did you know that one in five children are born into poverty in the United States? In the US? Can you believe? I have never been there. I have had the love of a mother and father, the love of a brother, the love of God, and here recently, the love of a husband and his family. That is still new and not sure what to do with all the extra new love that has come into my life. I just do my best to give it to other whom I run into along the way. I pray for strangers on the prayer list. I talk to anyone who calls me for help. There is only so much love you can store and you just have to give it away. The nice thing about having all the love is that there is less home sickness. So I guess I will just lean on the love a little more. There is a Bible verse that comes to mind: Trust the Lord with all your heart, lean not on your own understanding. And love the Lord, your God with heart, your soul and your mind. This helps too. So I will. I will miss my farm another day. ah the simple things...
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