So the day when I am officially another year older has arrived. I was afraid it would be a day I would struggle to be cheerful, because the local weather hyenas started howling this weekend about "blizzard conditions" in the metro today. (Well, there are monsoon conditions here so far today, maybe, but not one snowflake so far. Northwest is another story!) As someone who grew up in the land of sunshine, orange trees, droughts, smog, and traffic, the thought of a blizzard is depressing. Being trapped in the house for long periods of time is not my idea of fun. ( Don't get me wrong, we have a nice house, and lots of things to keep us entertained, and we DO still enjoy each other's company, but I am somewhat claustrophobic. The very idea of not being able to go outside if I feel like it gives me the willies!)
The day itself, however, has been full of blessings. First off, no snow, just rain. (We NEED rain, and I can drive in rain.) I got out early and got all the groceries bought, and my allowance and gas money out of the bank. The groceries came in under budget thanks to coupons, and putting them away didn't take too awfully long. Stew is in the crock pot for a nice, cozy birthday dinner. (With sourdough bread to toast in the broiler to go with it!) All the cleaning is done, so now if we get stuck in the house, it will be in a fresh, clean, good-smelling house.
An especially nice blessing is having my voice back to just about normal. I have been so afraid it was gone for good, but the mid - range is back in place, and I am Go! for any and all singing that needs to be done!
There have been really special birthday wishes sent to me today. I forget how many dear people that I care about also care about me. My Facebook feed has been overflowing with loving good wishes. Most of these are folks I have either met face to face, or have corresponded with for so long, that we feel like we've known each other forever. There are family wishes in there, too. MY big brother, and NOBODY else's, is the only of my siblings on Facebook, and he always greets me there, as well as sending a card. I got a sweet post from one of my nieces - in- law, too. One of my Facebook friends who is also on Twitter sent me a nice birthday tweet, and so did an actor/artist that I follow. The icing on the birthday cake of this day though, was a nice, short, 'happy birthday' from a busy man that I admire. It was the perfect topper for a day that turned out so much nicer than I was afraid it would.
Throughout the day were little reminders of how blessed and how precious this life is. There were lots of nice people at the base today, from the gate guard to the cashier and the bagger at the commissary who were cheerful and helpful in spite of the yucky cold wet weather. Those that looked at my ID card even wished me a happy birthday. (Nice to know they actually look at the darn thing when I go to the trouble to have it out for them!)
My dear husband had a sweet little gift for me when he got home. A while back, I had lamented that one pair of my full size sewing shears had just disappeared. He replaced them today with an even nicer pair. A small thing, perhaps, but so very thoughtful and attentive of him to remember my lamentation over "the good scissors".
There have been other "birthday presents" that we have bought together. Like this fabulous new computer that I got right after Christmas because the old one up and died. (It was only five years old, which is about 110 in computer years...) I got a Nook HD+ on Friday because the old Nook Color, while still working, is getting harder and harder to keep charged when using the Wi-Fi. This new one will let me watch Netflix on the go on a screen that is much more watchable than my phone. (Needs Wi-Fi connection, but that is cheaper than the data on my phone when it goes over the contract limit!) I can also be environmentally responsible at church and download the service bulletin to the Nook HD+, and not have to use a paper bulletin. (Quieter during the service, too!) I have also acquired a Bodhran and an istructional dvd to help me learn to play it. I intend to do so. I've wanted to learn for awhile now.
So, this birthday is a LOT better than I feared it would be. Thanks again to all those who have made it so.
All my Facbook friends and family, (you know who you are!) Also, Anne Lower, Michael M. Ornstein, Ron Perlman, Mary Stolfa, Anna Cathy Wells, and Fiona. (Rusty, I know you are sending good wishes, too, but I also know you are buried in job training! ;-) ) Phyllis C., commissary cashier extraordinaire, and Matthew Douglas Amistead, husband who goes above and beyond the call for me!
Monday, February 25, 2013
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Favorite Cookie Recipes
For your enjoyment, here are some of my favorite cookie recipes. Some are my own, or family inventions, others are from cookbooks as noted.
For the British recipes, a good kitchen scale is highly recommended. You can use the volume measurements, but the weight is by far the more accurate measure.
The recipe for No Bake Cookies, called "Chocolate Jobs" in our family, is a recipe my mother taught me. She and both my brothers have this one memorized. My earliest memories involve these cookies and licking the spoon and scraping the pan after the cookies were setting.
The Shortbread recipe is legendary. Catherine Brown's recipe is so good, I don't mess with it. (Oh, sometimes I add in things when I want to get fancy, like finely chopped nuts, or mini chocolate chips, but only once in a while.)
The Welsh Cakes are time consuming, but SO good. They go well with tea or coffee, and are popular at our after church gatherings.
The Mocha Snowballs were a happy experiment. I was quite pleased with the way they came out.
Amish Peanut Butter Cookies are always popular, wherever I take them, milk chocolate chips added or not. Just don't plan on leftovers.
Have fun!
Welsh Cakes – Pice Ar Y Maen
From The Complete Book Of Teas
By Marguerite Patten (1989 Piatikus)
Makes 16 – 18
8 oz/225g (2cups) self-raising flour or plain (all purpose) flour sifted with 2 teaspoons baking powder.
A pinch of salt
4 oz./ 110 g (½ Cup) butter or margarine (I use butter)
4 oz. /100 g (2/3 Cup) currants, or a mixture of currents and seedless raisins
1 egg
A little milk to bind
TO DECORATE:
caster (granulated) sugar
Sift the flour, or flour and baking powder, and salt into a bowl. Rub in the butter or margarine. (I use a pastry blender.) Add the sugar and currants. Mix in the egg and enough milk to make a soft rolling consistency. Roll out (or pat out) on a lightly floured board until the dough is about ½ inch/1.5cm in thickness. Cut into small rounds with a pastry cutter.
Preheat and lightly grease the griddle, which in Wales is sometimes called a bakestone. (And in Scotland is sometimes called a girdle, as in girdle scones) When it is ready, a little flour shaken on the top will take at least 1 minute to turn golden brown. Alternatively, use a greased heavy frying pan (skillet).
Put the cakes on to the hot surface and cook for 8 to 10 minutes, turning once, until they are golden brown on both sides. Transfer to a wire tray (cooling rack) to cool. When cold, dust with a little sugar.
Amish Peanut Butter Oatmeal Cookies
From The Farmhouse Cookbook By Susan Herrmann Loomis
Workman Publishing, New York, 1991, page 394
"These are a slight variation on an old Amish recipe, and they are the peanuttiest cookies I've ever had. If you're a peanut fan the way I am, you will love their nutty crunch. The addition of spices adds a delicate, aromatic undertone. You may want to double the recipe, because these disappear quickly."
(Katie's note: I always double the recipe, and I add milk chocolate chips to give an extra added richness. )
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
2 cups rolled oats
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter,at room temperature
1 cup unsalted chunky peanut butter (Katie's note, I use regular extra chunky, usually Skippy or Jiff)
1 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 large eggs
1 cup raw peanuts, preferably Spanish (I use unsalted dry roasted and just pulse them a couple of times in the mini food processor..)
1. Preheat the oven to 375, line several baking sheets with parchment paper (or spray with Pam Pro.)
2. Sift together the flour, salt, baking soda, baking powder, and spices onto a piece of waxed paper. Add the oats and mix together. (If you are doubling the recipe, use a bowl. That's a LOT of dry ingredients!)
3. Cream the butter in a large bowl until pale yellow and fluffy. Add the peanut butter, and cream until thoroughly incorporated. Then slowly add the sugar, and mix until the mixture is pale golden and fluffy. Add the vanilla and mix well. Then add the eggs, one at a time, mixing until combined.
4. Slowly add the flour mixture, and stir just until it is incorporated into the butter mixture. Fold in the peanuts, mixing them in thoroughly, add the milk chocolate pieces if you are using them, and mix them in.
5. Drop the dough by tablespoons 1 inch apart on the prepared baking sheets. Using the back of a fork, mark the top of each cookie in a crisscross pattern, flattening it out as you do. Bake the cookies in the center of the oven until they are golden, about 15 minutes. (Katie's note: Know your own oven. Baking times will vary, so keep an eye on the first batch, and plan future baking times accordingly.)
Transfer them to wire racks to cool. These will keep in an airtight container for 3 to 4 days. Theoretically.
For the British recipes, a good kitchen scale is highly recommended. You can use the volume measurements, but the weight is by far the more accurate measure.
The recipe for No Bake Cookies, called "Chocolate Jobs" in our family, is a recipe my mother taught me. She and both my brothers have this one memorized. My earliest memories involve these cookies and licking the spoon and scraping the pan after the cookies were setting.
The Shortbread recipe is legendary. Catherine Brown's recipe is so good, I don't mess with it. (Oh, sometimes I add in things when I want to get fancy, like finely chopped nuts, or mini chocolate chips, but only once in a while.)
The Welsh Cakes are time consuming, but SO good. They go well with tea or coffee, and are popular at our after church gatherings.
The Mocha Snowballs were a happy experiment. I was quite pleased with the way they came out.
Amish Peanut Butter Cookies are always popular, wherever I take them, milk chocolate chips added or not. Just don't plan on leftovers.
Have fun!
Welsh Cakes – Pice Ar Y Maen
From The Complete Book Of Teas
By Marguerite Patten (1989 Piatikus)
Makes 16 – 18
8 oz/225g (2cups) self-raising flour or plain (all purpose) flour sifted with 2 teaspoons baking powder.
A pinch of salt
4 oz./ 110 g (½ Cup) butter or margarine (I use butter)
4 oz. /100 g (2/3 Cup) currants, or a mixture of currents and seedless raisins
1 egg
A little milk to bind
TO DECORATE:
caster (granulated) sugar
Sift the flour, or flour and baking powder, and salt into a bowl. Rub in the butter or margarine. (I use a pastry blender.) Add the sugar and currants. Mix in the egg and enough milk to make a soft rolling consistency. Roll out (or pat out) on a lightly floured board until the dough is about ½ inch/1.5cm in thickness. Cut into small rounds with a pastry cutter.
Preheat and lightly grease the griddle, which in Wales is sometimes called a bakestone. (And in Scotland is sometimes called a girdle, as in girdle scones) When it is ready, a little flour shaken on the top will take at least 1 minute to turn golden brown. Alternatively, use a greased heavy frying pan (skillet).
Put the cakes on to the hot surface and cook for 8 to 10 minutes, turning once, until they are golden brown on both sides. Transfer to a wire tray (cooling rack) to cool. When cold, dust with a little sugar.
Shortbread Recipes
by Katie Armistead on Thursday, December 16, 2010 at 10:25pm ·
From A Year In A Scots Kitchen by Catherine Brown. Neil Wilson Publishing, Glasgow, Scotland 1999.(pp 35 and 36)
Its texture is a matter of taste, adjusted by varying the coarseness of the flour (Using ground rice for grittiness), cornflour and icing sugar for a more melting texture. The flavour of the Butter is crucial.
********************************************************************************
To make this shortbread gluten free, substitute a good quality gluten free all purpose baking flour (I use Bob's Red Mill) for the plain soft flour. The gluten free flour package will say if it can be subbed one for one with regular flour. Also, I add about 1/4 teaspoon xanathan gum per cup of flour. (You can measure the flour after you weigh it.) I also add toffee bits and mini chocolate chips to offset any "odd" flavor from the gluten free flour. Works pretty well. These are VERY fragile and should rest a little on the cookie sheet before you remove them. Cool completely before you try to handle them.*****************************************************************************
Ingredients:
For a 'gritty' granular texture:
125g (5oz) plain soft flour *Katie's note- I use all purpose*
25g (1oz) rice flour *available in the Oriental Foods sections at most markets*
100g (4oz) Butter * So far, I get the best and most consistent quality from Hiland butter*(You can also use Challenge European Style Butter)
50g (2oz) caster sugar *I use C&H baker's Sugar*
For a fine but crunchy texture: *this is the one I use*
100g (4oz) plain soft flour
25g (1 oz) rice flour
25g (1oz) cornflour *cornstarch to my fellow Yanks*
100g (4oz) butter
25g (1 oz) caster sugar
25g (1oz) icing sugar *powdered sugar to my fellow Yanks*
For a smooth 'melting' texture:
100g (4oz) plain soft flour
50g (2oz) cornflour
100g (4oz) butter
50g (2oz) icing sugar
METHOD:
Traditional: Put the butter onto a work surface, knead the sugar into it, then the flour,etc gradually until it becomes a firm, not too soft and not too firm ball of dough.
*My method: Put the butter in a bowl, add the sugar(s), use a pastry blender to mix the sugar into the butter, then use the pastry blender to cut the butter/sugar mixture into the flour(s).*
In Food Processor: Pulse butter and sugar till creamy, add flour and pulse until smooth. Remove and knead, adding more flour if necessary.
To Bake: Either press into a greased 270X175mm(101/4 by7 in.) swiss-roll tin and prick with a fork, or use a special shotrbread mould, or roll into a cylinder shape and coat in granulated sugar, chill and slice into thin round biscuit shapes. *I pat the dough out fairly thin, but not too thin, and cut it into shapes. Sometimes I stamp it all over with my thistle cookie stamp, and then use a round cutter to cut them out*
Bake slowly at gas mark 3/170C/325F until an even golden brown. *The time will vary because ovens vary. I usually start with 8 to 10 minutes, and increase in 2 minute intervals until I get the color I want*
Its texture is a matter of taste, adjusted by varying the coarseness of the flour (Using ground rice for grittiness), cornflour and icing sugar for a more melting texture. The flavour of the Butter is crucial.
********************************************************************************
To make this shortbread gluten free, substitute a good quality gluten free all purpose baking flour (I use Bob's Red Mill) for the plain soft flour. The gluten free flour package will say if it can be subbed one for one with regular flour. Also, I add about 1/4 teaspoon xanathan gum per cup of flour. (You can measure the flour after you weigh it.) I also add toffee bits and mini chocolate chips to offset any "odd" flavor from the gluten free flour. Works pretty well. These are VERY fragile and should rest a little on the cookie sheet before you remove them. Cool completely before you try to handle them.*****************************************************************************
Ingredients:
For a 'gritty' granular texture:
125g (5oz) plain soft flour *Katie's note- I use all purpose*
25g (1oz) rice flour *available in the Oriental Foods sections at most markets*
100g (4oz) Butter * So far, I get the best and most consistent quality from Hiland butter*(You can also use Challenge European Style Butter)
50g (2oz) caster sugar *I use C&H baker's Sugar*
For a fine but crunchy texture: *this is the one I use*
100g (4oz) plain soft flour
25g (1 oz) rice flour
25g (1oz) cornflour *cornstarch to my fellow Yanks*
100g (4oz) butter
25g (1 oz) caster sugar
25g (1oz) icing sugar *powdered sugar to my fellow Yanks*
For a smooth 'melting' texture:
100g (4oz) plain soft flour
50g (2oz) cornflour
100g (4oz) butter
50g (2oz) icing sugar
METHOD:
Traditional: Put the butter onto a work surface, knead the sugar into it, then the flour,etc gradually until it becomes a firm, not too soft and not too firm ball of dough.
*My method: Put the butter in a bowl, add the sugar(s), use a pastry blender to mix the sugar into the butter, then use the pastry blender to cut the butter/sugar mixture into the flour(s).*
In Food Processor: Pulse butter and sugar till creamy, add flour and pulse until smooth. Remove and knead, adding more flour if necessary.
To Bake: Either press into a greased 270X175mm(101/4 by7 in.) swiss-roll tin and prick with a fork, or use a special shotrbread mould, or roll into a cylinder shape and coat in granulated sugar, chill and slice into thin round biscuit shapes. *I pat the dough out fairly thin, but not too thin, and cut it into shapes. Sometimes I stamp it all over with my thistle cookie stamp, and then use a round cutter to cut them out*
Bake slowly at gas mark 3/170C/325F until an even golden brown. *The time will vary because ovens vary. I usually start with 8 to 10 minutes, and increase in 2 minute intervals until I get the color I want*
Amish Peanut Butter Oatmeal Cookies
From The Farmhouse Cookbook By Susan Herrmann Loomis
Workman Publishing, New York, 1991, page 394
"These are a slight variation on an old Amish recipe, and they are the peanuttiest cookies I've ever had. If you're a peanut fan the way I am, you will love their nutty crunch. The addition of spices adds a delicate, aromatic undertone. You may want to double the recipe, because these disappear quickly."
(Katie's note: I always double the recipe, and I add milk chocolate chips to give an extra added richness. )
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
2 cups rolled oats
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter,at room temperature
1 cup unsalted chunky peanut butter (Katie's note, I use regular extra chunky, usually Skippy or Jiff)
1 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 large eggs
1 cup raw peanuts, preferably Spanish (I use unsalted dry roasted and just pulse them a couple of times in the mini food processor..)
1. Preheat the oven to 375, line several baking sheets with parchment paper (or spray with Pam Pro.)
2. Sift together the flour, salt, baking soda, baking powder, and spices onto a piece of waxed paper. Add the oats and mix together. (If you are doubling the recipe, use a bowl. That's a LOT of dry ingredients!)
3. Cream the butter in a large bowl until pale yellow and fluffy. Add the peanut butter, and cream until thoroughly incorporated. Then slowly add the sugar, and mix until the mixture is pale golden and fluffy. Add the vanilla and mix well. Then add the eggs, one at a time, mixing until combined.
4. Slowly add the flour mixture, and stir just until it is incorporated into the butter mixture. Fold in the peanuts, mixing them in thoroughly, add the milk chocolate pieces if you are using them, and mix them in.
5. Drop the dough by tablespoons 1 inch apart on the prepared baking sheets. Using the back of a fork, mark the top of each cookie in a crisscross pattern, flattening it out as you do. Bake the cookies in the center of the oven until they are golden, about 15 minutes. (Katie's note: Know your own oven. Baking times will vary, so keep an eye on the first batch, and plan future baking times accordingly.)
Transfer them to wire racks to cool. These will keep in an airtight container for 3 to 4 days. Theoretically.
No Bake Cookies (Chocolate Jobs)
by Katie Armistead on Tuesday, April 12, 2011 at 8:44pm ·
1 stick of butter (1/2 cup)
2 Cups sugar
1/3 Cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 Cup milk
3 Cups rolled oats
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 Cup peanut butter
Bring sugar, cocoa, butter and milk to a boil and time 1 minute. Remove from heat, immediately add peanut butter and stir until smooth. Add the oats and the vanilla. Mix well. Then drop by spoonfuls on waxed paper and cool until hardened.
2 Cups sugar
1/3 Cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 Cup milk
3 Cups rolled oats
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 Cup peanut butter
Bring sugar, cocoa, butter and milk to a boil and time 1 minute. Remove from heat, immediately add peanut butter and stir until smooth. Add the oats and the vanilla. Mix well. Then drop by spoonfuls on waxed paper and cool until hardened.
My variation on a pretty standard butter cookie rolled in powdered sugar recipe.
Chocolate Mocha Snowballs
2 cups butter, softened (no substitutions, these are BUTTER cookies, after all.)
2 cups powdered sugar
4 tablespoons (I use Hershey's Special Dark Cocoa) unsweetened cocoa powder
2 teaspoons vanilla
2 tablespoons espresso powder
4 cups all-purpose flour
About 3/4 cup of 60% Cacao Bittersweet chocolate chips. (I use Ghirardelli)
More powdered sugar
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.
Beat butter, powdered sugar, cocoa, vanilla and espresso powder with electric mixer until light. Gradually add four, mixing until just blended.
Shape dough into 1 inch balls, tucking 1 chocolate chip into the center of each dough ball as you shape it. Place 1 inch apart on greased cookie sheets.
Bake for 8 minutes or so (no more than 10) or until lightly browned. (With my oven, eight minutes is perfect.) Transfer from baking sheets to wire racks, cool slightly. Roll in the extra powdered sugar while still warm; when completely cooled, roll them in the powdered sugar again.
Makes about 7 and 3/4 dozen cookies.
You can also make the cinnamon version of this recipe, omitting the coffee powder and using ground cinnamon instead. I also add some ground cinnamon to the powdered sugar I roll the cookies in when I make the cinnamon version.
Chocolate Mocha Snowballs. Ones toward the back have only been rolled in powdered sugar once. Ones in container are done.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Lent
Lent again. Already. Once again the birthday is during Lent. Oh well. Should be used to it by now.
Lent is supposed to be a time of spiritual self-examination. It is a time when some people give something up in order to take away a distraction or a self-indulgence. Others add a discipline, something they need to do to improve their spiritual life. (And sometimes their physical life.) For Lent this year, I am going to try a couple of things. I am going to try to make fewer negative comments out here in the real world. Online, I do a pretty good job of keeping things mostly positive. I do all right at it at work, but here at home, where I get tired and grumpy, and my only audience is my poor long-suffering husband, I get really negative about life, the universe, and everything.
I am also going to try to regulate my sleeping habits a bit better. I might be less grumpy, tired, and negative if I got the proper amount of sleep. (Ya think?) Doing so is not easy, as both of us tend to be night owls, and getting to sleep before midnight can be a challenge. Getting up early is a real challenge for me. I am not fully conscious until after 8 am. It just does NOT happen. I may get up, and function on some level, but my brain is NOT fully functional before 8 am.
There are specific traditions observed in our worship services during Lent. No alleluias. Not anywhere, not any time. Somebody in the congregation goofed after the Ash Wednesday service and tried to add the "alleluia, alleluia" to the Thanks Be To God at the end of the service. The clergy didn't add it, but someone in the congregation was responding a little too much by rote. The Psalm is sung to a different melodic pattern during Lent. That started Wednesday evening. Today, first Sunday in Lent, was the Great Litany, or as we refer to it, twice around the figure 8 around the nave Sunday. The Litany is sung in procession, and my part was dicey this morning because some notes would NOT come out. Thankfully, the whole congregation sings those responses, so it was easy to hide the fact that my voice is having a major malfunction.
In general, Lent is supposed to be a reflective, somber season. Not easy to do while the rest of the world is going crazy with cute bunnies and candy, and other stuff getting ready for Easter. Holy Week has a lot in common with Passover. Many believe the Last Supper was a Seder. The rituals we observe for Maundy Thursday, the celebration of the Last Supper, are very solemn indeed. The altar is stripped, and any leftover Hosts and wine are taken to an "altar of repose", usually in the small chapel in the Education building. On Good Friday, we will worship in a church that has no linens on the altar, no light burning in the Sanctuary Lamp, and no flowers. Only a plain wooden cross is placed there, in front of the high altar usually. In this spare season, we still gather every Wednesday evening for a dinner, and an Evensong service, and then, for some of us, choir rehearsal.
Of course, Sundays are feast days, even during Lent, so we have our usual worship services on Sunday mornings, with the differences I mentioned for Lent.
It is always hard for me to find a discipline for Lent, and to stick to one. I grew up in a church that did not observe Lent as such, and so I never really got the habit of giving something up. I hope that I can manage this year to have a Holy Lent, as we are instructed to do when the ashes are placed on our foreheads on Ash Wednesday.
May this season of reflection be for you whatever you need it to be. And if you are not a Christian, then may it still be a time of reflection for you as the world prepares to re-awaken from either the cold of winter in this hemisphere, or the energy-draining heat and drought of summer in the Southern Hemisphere. A season of preparation for the season of change.
Lent is supposed to be a time of spiritual self-examination. It is a time when some people give something up in order to take away a distraction or a self-indulgence. Others add a discipline, something they need to do to improve their spiritual life. (And sometimes their physical life.) For Lent this year, I am going to try a couple of things. I am going to try to make fewer negative comments out here in the real world. Online, I do a pretty good job of keeping things mostly positive. I do all right at it at work, but here at home, where I get tired and grumpy, and my only audience is my poor long-suffering husband, I get really negative about life, the universe, and everything.
I am also going to try to regulate my sleeping habits a bit better. I might be less grumpy, tired, and negative if I got the proper amount of sleep. (Ya think?) Doing so is not easy, as both of us tend to be night owls, and getting to sleep before midnight can be a challenge. Getting up early is a real challenge for me. I am not fully conscious until after 8 am. It just does NOT happen. I may get up, and function on some level, but my brain is NOT fully functional before 8 am.
There are specific traditions observed in our worship services during Lent. No alleluias. Not anywhere, not any time. Somebody in the congregation goofed after the Ash Wednesday service and tried to add the "alleluia, alleluia" to the Thanks Be To God at the end of the service. The clergy didn't add it, but someone in the congregation was responding a little too much by rote. The Psalm is sung to a different melodic pattern during Lent. That started Wednesday evening. Today, first Sunday in Lent, was the Great Litany, or as we refer to it, twice around the figure 8 around the nave Sunday. The Litany is sung in procession, and my part was dicey this morning because some notes would NOT come out. Thankfully, the whole congregation sings those responses, so it was easy to hide the fact that my voice is having a major malfunction.
In general, Lent is supposed to be a reflective, somber season. Not easy to do while the rest of the world is going crazy with cute bunnies and candy, and other stuff getting ready for Easter. Holy Week has a lot in common with Passover. Many believe the Last Supper was a Seder. The rituals we observe for Maundy Thursday, the celebration of the Last Supper, are very solemn indeed. The altar is stripped, and any leftover Hosts and wine are taken to an "altar of repose", usually in the small chapel in the Education building. On Good Friday, we will worship in a church that has no linens on the altar, no light burning in the Sanctuary Lamp, and no flowers. Only a plain wooden cross is placed there, in front of the high altar usually. In this spare season, we still gather every Wednesday evening for a dinner, and an Evensong service, and then, for some of us, choir rehearsal.
Of course, Sundays are feast days, even during Lent, so we have our usual worship services on Sunday mornings, with the differences I mentioned for Lent.
It is always hard for me to find a discipline for Lent, and to stick to one. I grew up in a church that did not observe Lent as such, and so I never really got the habit of giving something up. I hope that I can manage this year to have a Holy Lent, as we are instructed to do when the ashes are placed on our foreheads on Ash Wednesday.
May this season of reflection be for you whatever you need it to be. And if you are not a Christian, then may it still be a time of reflection for you as the world prepares to re-awaken from either the cold of winter in this hemisphere, or the energy-draining heat and drought of summer in the Southern Hemisphere. A season of preparation for the season of change.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Getting Older
There is a birthday looming in my near future. It isn't a milestone. It is three years past a milestone. Seven years from the next one. There are sags and lines and grey hairs that I didn't notice before. There is less energy sometimes. Things ache that didn't used to, even if it is only for a little while in the morning. Some joints are lumpy. Veins are more visible. The bad part is, my mind, my interests, all that makes me "me" still feels about like it did when I was 25. I have many interests and activities, I hang out with people of all ages, both older and younger than myself.
There are days when I don't feel like doing much, but I make myself get up and do SOMETHING anyway.
The crunch of diminishing time available is present. There are things I want to do that I fear I just will never get around to doing. Either too busy with something else I love, or no money. Because I love my job. It is one of those things that gets me off my behind and makes me get involved in life even on days when I don't really want to. I love the people I work with, I even love our customers most of the time. (OK, so the sixth person in a row to ask me about tax forms, I may not love them very much, but I won't kill them.)
The singing commitments I have are very special to me. I have found that I love to sing, that it gives me a chance to express myself in ways I cannot otherwise. Choir, of course, is part of my faith commitment. We help lead the worship at church , so choir is a ministry. Master Chorale is something more for fun, but it is a challenge. A bet with myself that I can discipline myself to learn this music well enough to sing it in public. Voice lessons are necessary. I would not be able to sing at all without them. Recitals are fun. Since everybody is in the same boat, I don't get too awfully nervous.
I have friends I love, and I love to spend time with them. They make me laugh, and all of us feel the years fall away when we get started laughing about things. (Even if some of us only get together online, the laughter is good for us.) The friends I spend time with here though, they are the best. They've known me for the last 20 years or so. They've seen age creep up, but still think of me like I used to be. Priceless people.
(That redheaded man in the picture on the left below, he still sees me as that sweet young thing he has his arm around there. God bless his little heart.)
Still, some days I mourn the smooth, firm line my jaw once had. I mourn the figure that allowed me to wear more revealing things without looking desperate. I even mourn the long hair that was such a pain in the a** to take care of. Now I can improve some of these things. I can firm the figure up by getting back into my exercise routine, but the skin will never be as smooth as it once was, no matter what I do to it. But I don't want to recapture my youth. I want to come to terms with where I am now. I want to still feel that I am beautiful, that I am NOT an "old lady". (Though some of my family members will argue that I was born about 35 years old and never really had a childhood. Yes I did. It's called Fandom, and I immersed myself in it from my teen years on...)
In short, I want the way I look to match the way I feel about myself a little better. Still haven't figured out how to do that. I figure the exercise is at least a start, as it will improve my health if nothing else. (Or, it might just make something else start to hurt...)
1983 2013
There are days when I don't feel like doing much, but I make myself get up and do SOMETHING anyway.
The crunch of diminishing time available is present. There are things I want to do that I fear I just will never get around to doing. Either too busy with something else I love, or no money. Because I love my job. It is one of those things that gets me off my behind and makes me get involved in life even on days when I don't really want to. I love the people I work with, I even love our customers most of the time. (OK, so the sixth person in a row to ask me about tax forms, I may not love them very much, but I won't kill them.)
The singing commitments I have are very special to me. I have found that I love to sing, that it gives me a chance to express myself in ways I cannot otherwise. Choir, of course, is part of my faith commitment. We help lead the worship at church , so choir is a ministry. Master Chorale is something more for fun, but it is a challenge. A bet with myself that I can discipline myself to learn this music well enough to sing it in public. Voice lessons are necessary. I would not be able to sing at all without them. Recitals are fun. Since everybody is in the same boat, I don't get too awfully nervous.
I have friends I love, and I love to spend time with them. They make me laugh, and all of us feel the years fall away when we get started laughing about things. (Even if some of us only get together online, the laughter is good for us.) The friends I spend time with here though, they are the best. They've known me for the last 20 years or so. They've seen age creep up, but still think of me like I used to be. Priceless people.
(That redheaded man in the picture on the left below, he still sees me as that sweet young thing he has his arm around there. God bless his little heart.)
Still, some days I mourn the smooth, firm line my jaw once had. I mourn the figure that allowed me to wear more revealing things without looking desperate. I even mourn the long hair that was such a pain in the a** to take care of. Now I can improve some of these things. I can firm the figure up by getting back into my exercise routine, but the skin will never be as smooth as it once was, no matter what I do to it. But I don't want to recapture my youth. I want to come to terms with where I am now. I want to still feel that I am beautiful, that I am NOT an "old lady". (Though some of my family members will argue that I was born about 35 years old and never really had a childhood. Yes I did. It's called Fandom, and I immersed myself in it from my teen years on...)
In short, I want the way I look to match the way I feel about myself a little better. Still haven't figured out how to do that. I figure the exercise is at least a start, as it will improve my health if nothing else. (Or, it might just make something else start to hurt...)
1983 2013
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
A Valentine For The Man I Love
We met in a Star Trek fan club that I had joined, and his mother and sister had joined. They were campaigning for more members, so Matt's mother convinced him that he should join. At the "launching party" for our new chapter of the club, Matt kept ending up next to me, and he started calling me after the party to talk We talked almost every day. He made me laugh. Sometimes so hard that I'd cry. His sense of humor is even more evil than mine.
He was active duty Air Force when we met. A Staff Sergeant (he made rank early) and an aircraft loadmaster on C-141s. He was stationed at Norton Air Force Base in San Bernardino, CA.
We dated for about three months before we knew it was love. He asked me to marry him on my birthday in 1984. My engagement ring has an amethyst in it because that is my birthstone, and also because he wanted to continue making house payments. When he got a big re-enlistment bonus, instead of buying a car, he bought a house. (He had his Mom and Sister and nephew living with him when I met him, one reason he had bought the house.)
Here are a few more wedding pictures. I think we were a pretty cute couple.
After we were married, he taught me how to ride a bike again. He had ridden with a minor racing team in Panama when he was a teen growing up in the Canal Zone. He had also ridden track. He could track stand a regular road bike longer than almost any other human being I have ever seen.
He has the patience of a saint. He put up with more whining and complaining, and me almost dumping us both off our tandem bike, and he still loves me. (And I still love him even though I SWEAR he ran over every bump he could find on that tandem just to launch me off that back seat.)
He got to go back to Panama once in a while on air drop missions. This picture is him pulling in the jump platform on a C-141 after the jumpers have all exited the aircraft.
I have always been so proud of him and his dedication to his service to this country. It was a job he loved, and he did it well. I never minded the late night trips to the base to either drop him off or pick him up. It was worth it. He was worth it. I loved going out to the base with him to watch the planes coming in or doing pilot training. Some nights he was at the squadron waiting to find out if the airdrop birds had in fact dropped, and whether they needed to go help unload, or at the very least retrieve their CDS buffer board. I sometimes took dinner in the crockpot to share with whoever was waiting with him. His nickname was Army-N-Stead, and they all called me Mrs. Army. I was always proud to be his, I know he was well-respected by the guys he worked with.
You can tell he was still active duty in the picture at my mom's house where he was carving the turkey. (After my Pop died, Matt got to do that job when we were visiting, unless my brother wanted to. )
Matt has always taken such good care of me. He worried about leaving me alone in San Bernardino, but he made it as safe as possible. He used to leave me love notes scattered around the house before he went TDY. He'd hide them in my dresser drawers, in the spice rack in the pantry, in my books, anywhere I'd come upon them unexpectedly.And every time he came home, it was a very romantic occasion. Sometimes I miss those days, because we were both a lot more romantic, and I think we were both more aware of the fact that life is short, and you really aren't guaranteed a tomorrow. Every time I dropped him at that squadron, it could have been the last time I ever saw him. That was always in the back of our minds. Even in peacetime, flying airdrop missions as he so often did is not exactly the safest game in town. His squadron lost a crew to a crash while we were at Norton. They flew right into a mountainside during a low level training mission.
While we were in Germany, Desert Shield and Desert Storm happened. Matt had to leave on rather short notice, and there was no way of knowing when (or if) he'd come back. Those seven months were nerve wracking. How the folks survive the long tours in Iraq and Afganistan is beyond me. I know we were blessed in that I was out on a farm with wonderful German landlords who more or less adopted me, and Matt was on Cargo aircraft, which because of their size and tendency to fly slowly, were always kept at bases farther to the rear of any action until and unless troops and/or cargo needed to be dropped.
The photo above left was made when he got to come home for Christmas during Desert Shield. His crew drew the straw that let them bring the airplane back that was scheduled for maintenance at that time. (With C-130s the age those birds were, maintenance was religiously observed. It was the only reason they were still flyable.)
After the Gulf War, Matt cross trained to Ops Resource Management. His shoulder had been messed up one too many times by getting rammed into a pallet that got stuck when they were loading it. He didn't fly any more after that. He still got to work 12 hour shifts in Current Operations at Rhein- Main Air Base, where he was NCOIC of the Current Operations office until we PCSed to Tinker in 1993.
He was in the Ops Resource Center at the 966th AWACS training squadron here at Tinker until 1998 when he retired. He was NCOIC of the section when he retired
.
We have been through a lot in our almost 29 years, and though things occasionally get tense, we are still just as much in love as we were then. Though the spinal cord surgery he had eight years ago has affected many things about him, like made him gain a ton of weight and made it hard to get off, and reduced his mobility in some ways, he still keeps going, works hard, and does so many nice things for me.
He now works for the Postal Service as a contractor for OU. He works at the Training center putting courses online so fewer people have to travel for necessary training, and they can train more people at once. He is putting all his hard won computer expertise to good use.
He takes good care of me still, and he still puts up with my quirks even though he no longer has the respite of going TDY.
He is still funny, and he can still make my knees weak.
The picture below was made on Christmas Day 2009. We don't have any really good pictures of us together that are more recent.
My darling Matthew, there can never be another that can make me feel the way you do. Right from the start, you got me. You understood, you never belittled my fan interests, you shared some of them, and you have always encouraged me to try new things, to find my strengths, even when I am sure I will fall spectacularly on my face. I think the true testimony to our love is that we are both still here. We haven't killed each other yet! I know both of us are too stubborn to ever contemplate divorce. We made a promise before God and our friends and families, and we both honor our promises. You have certainly loved me and put up with me, and cared for me, in situations that could not have always been easy for you. Thanks for a great life, and here's hoping for at least 29 more years!
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Poems About St. Paul's
A few days ago, I mentioned some poetry I had written about our cathedral family in the aftermath of the Murrah Bombing of April, 1995. The majority of my writings were essays from that time, but for a couple of Christmases, I wrote poems.
The first was written before the renovations to the cathedral itself were completed. In it, I tried to convey the sense of our Christmas celebration while "wandering in the wilderness" of Dean Willey Hall. (Which was cramped and crowded for these larger celebrations, but had a magical air about it all the same.)
Christmas Eve
By Carolyn Kay Armistead, 1996
The scent of pine needles, incense, and candle wax fill the air.
There is much confusion about the processional, and just who goes where.
But the night is full of magic, wonder and joy
As our Christian family prepares once again to welcome the baby boy.
The baby boy who came into a world of uncertainty and pain,
Who understands how we feel, being in Dean Willey Hall again,
And not in our beautiful Cathedral, with its comfort and sacredness.
He knows how it feels to deal with hatred's harmful effects.
Well He knows our sorrow, our impatience and our pain
And yet He makes us glad to be together, even if in the Hall again.
For He was not born in a fancy palace, or a hospital clean and grand;
But in a lowly stable, with cows, sheep and shepherds close to hand.
If He could be content with a birthplace so quiet and humble;
Who are we to be unhappy with our lot and to grumble?
After all, we are safe and still together, and together we still can sing
The same joyful song of angels, and isn't that the most important thing?
This next was written about a night that was almost giddy in its joyfulness. We were once again in our beautiful Cathedral, able to worship in the way we had been accustomed to. There were many new faces with us that night, and some of them actually stuck around after Christmas!
A Cathedral Christmas
By Carolyn Kay Armistead
1998
Here we are again:
The faithful and the now and then,
Assembled once more with great joy
To welcome a special baby boy.
This time our Cathedral is restored
To give homage to the One adored;
Our family home again made new,
Through with the years of "making do."
A delight to all the senses it becomes,
With new organ to support our songs,
And finery restored to its original glory,
The better to illustrate the Gospel story.
So round His table again we gather,
Banished is the world and all its bother,
For we are family, loved and treasured;
A gift with value too great to be measured.
As into the cold, crisp night we go,
Our hearts remain with love aglow.
Each face we have seen, each voice is precious,
For in each is God's love for us reflected.
This was written a few years later, as a reflection on the rather stark services we have every Good Friday.
Good Friday
By Carolyn Kay Armistead
April, 2000
You taught us when we mourn
Not to wear ashes on our heads,
Not walk around filled with
Sorrow and with dread
But Lord, that was before;
Before they dragged you off
To die
Before the clouds
Stole the sunlight from the sky.
How can I not wear ashes on my head?
How can I not be filled with sorrow and with dread?
When it is my fault you are dead.
It was for me that they nailed you to that tree
It was my sin that took you away from me.
This last was written about five years ago, again a reflection on a service that is often very emotionally difficult to get through. The music we sing, the way the church is stripped of all decoration, it all leaves us feeling the desolation, at least partially, that the disciples felt.
Good Friday thoughts 2008
By Carolyn Kay Armistead
Again the solemn ritual is done.
Again we read the painful lines
That tell how our salvation was won.
The dark church, the altar bare
Testify to the sadness in our hearts
For we drove our Savior there.
For love of us, the Innocent died
Because of us, Love made sacrifice
And all creation with us cried.
But today we know a secret thing
Those first believers did not.
We know the bells of Easter soon will ring
For Love has conquered even death!
Now, this one I have posted in this blog once before. I wrote it as a reflection on a very beautiful service that is a tradition in our church. Evensong is a lovely service, simple, musical, and peaceful. The prayers are beautiful, and they are usually sung. We were blessed at that time to have Canon Luke Back to officiate and sing for us. Now that we have Dean Justin Lindstrom, who also has a wonderful singing voice, maybe we can have a Sunday evensong again sometime.
Evensong
Oct. 21, 2007
The day is fading in the West
Our weary souls and bodies long for rest
But to Your house, O Lord we come
To raise our voices in Evensong.
We sing Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis
And O Gracious Light
To ask that You, Lord, remain with us
Through the darkness of the night.
Music is a very large part of our experience at church. The music we sing helps us worship. It helps those in the congregation, and when I can't participate, I miss it a LOT. So glad my singing voice as of today is more than 99% back, and by Sunday, it should be 100%. (Also get another week to practice my solo audition for Master Chorale, thanks to inclement weather causing a rehearsal and auditions to be canceled until next week.)
Re-Post of a Facebook Note about Bear
This was written right after Mr. Bear left us. Had forgotten I wrote it.
Remembering Bear
by Katie Armistead on Monday, November 28, 2011 at 5:32pm ·
He
was so big for a Schipperke, that's what I thought when I first saw
him, and he was more aloof than most. Then I noticed that he was
covered in ticks and wouldn't get close to my feet. He was in a foster
home, but I don't think I have a very high opinion of that foster
situation.
Once we got him home, it took almost a year of crate training and tethering to get him house trained again. He was five years old, but had been relegated to living in a back yard because the owners couldn't get him to stop peeing in their fancy new house.
I admit I was depressed and frustrated with him for awhile, but I didn't give up on him. It paid off. He learned to be trustworthy in the house, and he became one of the all around best dogs we've ever had.
He wouldn't play, though, not with toys. Sometimes, he'd go out and run around the back yard and act crazy for awhile, but that was it for being playful. He loved his walks. He was ALWAYS up to go out front on his leash and check out the neighborhood. (Although the last two times I took him, I had to carry him home.) I think Thanksgiving Day was the last walk we took. He really just wandered up to the corner and stopped.
He always enjoyed being in the Red Ribbon Parade with the other library staff dogs. The last time he was in it, he was dressed up like a bee.
We almost lost Bear at Eastertime in 2006. He came down with Ehrlichiosis, which is a tick-bourne illness. Our wonderful vet, Dr. Jeff Boyer, brought him through it, and though he had a pretty bad heart murmur thereafter, he enjoyed pretty good health until the last few months. He's been leaving us little by little, slowing down, having worse arthritis pain, coughing a lot in spite of the Lasix we gave him to control fluid retention. In the last few months, he hasn't wanted to walk far, he's limped a lot, and last Wednesday, his appetite went down. Then we noticed how very skinny he was everywhere except his belly. Jeff had seen Bear only two weeks or so ago. He was doing fine then, his belly pretty normal, if a little firm from the coughing. Not so today. Today, his belly was BIG, and hard, and we knew that wasn't good. He was also having more trouble breathing, and the Lasix didn't seem to help it at all.
This morning, Monday, November 28, 2011, we took him to Dr. Jeff so he could see if he could figure out what was going on. Now, Jeff loves this dog almost as much as we do, and we knew he'd check every possible angle and give us the truth. In this case, the truth was painful for all of us. Bear had a tumor on his spleen that had started seeping blood into his abdomen. Poor guy could NOT get comfortable, and I really think he knew it was time to go. I think he'd been trying to tell us this weekend that he hurt, and he needed it to stop. Nothing was fun anymore. He would still eat a treat or two, and a little turkey, but that was it.
This afternoon, Matt and I and Dr. Jeff and his assistant Lacey all held and cuddled and petted Mr. Bear and saw him off to the Rainbow Bridge to wait for us. It is so hard to do, even when you know it is the absolute best thing for the dog. I was really saying goodbye all weekend. I kinda knew this was probably coming. It still hurts, though.
The cat is a great comfort to us. Madame Skye is still looking around like she thinks the dog will come back, but I think she knew he was hurting, too. Every time we got on the floor with him to love on him this weekend, she showed up, too, and she tried to head-butt him and leaned on him, and THEN she tried to bite his ear. I hope she won't get too depressed. I'm depressed enough for all of us.
I will always miss my walking buddy, my constant shadow, my sweet natured little Mr. Bear.
Once we got him home, it took almost a year of crate training and tethering to get him house trained again. He was five years old, but had been relegated to living in a back yard because the owners couldn't get him to stop peeing in their fancy new house.
I admit I was depressed and frustrated with him for awhile, but I didn't give up on him. It paid off. He learned to be trustworthy in the house, and he became one of the all around best dogs we've ever had.
He wouldn't play, though, not with toys. Sometimes, he'd go out and run around the back yard and act crazy for awhile, but that was it for being playful. He loved his walks. He was ALWAYS up to go out front on his leash and check out the neighborhood. (Although the last two times I took him, I had to carry him home.) I think Thanksgiving Day was the last walk we took. He really just wandered up to the corner and stopped.
He always enjoyed being in the Red Ribbon Parade with the other library staff dogs. The last time he was in it, he was dressed up like a bee.
Bear with Melvin and Molly.
Mr. Bee-Bear (Who won't wear the hat part of his costume.)
He
was always interested in food. That seemed to be his greatest pleasure
in life, seeing if he could mooch people food. Our friends the
Rogerses spoiled him, in that Nancy would always sneak him a few bites
of whatever appropriate things she was eating. He LOVED Nancy. Even
the last time they were here, a couple of Saturdays ago, Bear was
bumping Nancy's arm, trying to get her to cuddle him and let him have
food.We almost lost Bear at Eastertime in 2006. He came down with Ehrlichiosis, which is a tick-bourne illness. Our wonderful vet, Dr. Jeff Boyer, brought him through it, and though he had a pretty bad heart murmur thereafter, he enjoyed pretty good health until the last few months. He's been leaving us little by little, slowing down, having worse arthritis pain, coughing a lot in spite of the Lasix we gave him to control fluid retention. In the last few months, he hasn't wanted to walk far, he's limped a lot, and last Wednesday, his appetite went down. Then we noticed how very skinny he was everywhere except his belly. Jeff had seen Bear only two weeks or so ago. He was doing fine then, his belly pretty normal, if a little firm from the coughing. Not so today. Today, his belly was BIG, and hard, and we knew that wasn't good. He was also having more trouble breathing, and the Lasix didn't seem to help it at all.
This morning, Monday, November 28, 2011, we took him to Dr. Jeff so he could see if he could figure out what was going on. Now, Jeff loves this dog almost as much as we do, and we knew he'd check every possible angle and give us the truth. In this case, the truth was painful for all of us. Bear had a tumor on his spleen that had started seeping blood into his abdomen. Poor guy could NOT get comfortable, and I really think he knew it was time to go. I think he'd been trying to tell us this weekend that he hurt, and he needed it to stop. Nothing was fun anymore. He would still eat a treat or two, and a little turkey, but that was it.
This afternoon, Matt and I and Dr. Jeff and his assistant Lacey all held and cuddled and petted Mr. Bear and saw him off to the Rainbow Bridge to wait for us. It is so hard to do, even when you know it is the absolute best thing for the dog. I was really saying goodbye all weekend. I kinda knew this was probably coming. It still hurts, though.
The cat is a great comfort to us. Madame Skye is still looking around like she thinks the dog will come back, but I think she knew he was hurting, too. Every time we got on the floor with him to love on him this weekend, she showed up, too, and she tried to head-butt him and leaned on him, and THEN she tried to bite his ear. I hope she won't get too depressed. I'm depressed enough for all of us.
I will always miss my walking buddy, my constant shadow, my sweet natured little Mr. Bear.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Appreciation
How to express in a few words how much you appreciate someone? Especially someone you work with day in and day out, someone who has seen you at your most harried and/or panicked and been there to help you through it?
How about the ones you don't work with every day? It's even harder to come up with something meaningful to say how much you appreciate the fact that they are there when they are needed, always pleasant and always prepared.
For our Staff Appreciation Day on Valentine's Day, we have been asked to write short words of appreciation for all our fellow staffers, and drop them in their "Valentine's Mailboxes" that the committee has made for everyone.
My coworkers are an exceptional group of people. Most of them have advanced degrees, yet they work in a field that doesn't exactly pay a lot. They are dedicated to their jobs, and they make a real difference in this community. I feel blessed every time I go to work because I get to spend time with such a wonderful group of people. They are fun, funny, extremely talented, and they've always got my back. And I've got theirs. There has never been a place I've worked before that has felt like this. Nowhere else have I really felt like part of the team, part of the family. I value the work my coworkers do, and they value mine. There are days that make us all feel like we've been through a meat grinder, but most days, we have fun. Somebody will find the humor in whatever is going on, and find a way to jolly us all through it. We seem to take turns at it.
One way to make the humdrums lighter is to count things like how many "what are your hours?" calls we get on say, a Friday afternoon. During the first of the year, "Do you have tax forms?" is the question likely to get the highest tally. Some days, we could get a pretty high tally for calls about meeting rooms.
There are many people at my church that I appreciate, too. Of course, the clergy and staff are always appreciated, because without them, we wouldn't be able to do anything. I really appreciate my fellow choristers. We've been singing together every week now for a LOT of years. For only about 16 of us, we have a really good sound going on. Here's a link to one of our recorded anthems. (First soprano lines brought to you by yours truly and Lou Kohlman.) This link is to the whole audio library. I only sing in Cathedral Choir. Lou is also in Musica Sacra, if you want to hear more of her wonderful voice. I love singing with Lou. Lea wasn't with us when we recorded these songs, but she has become a vital part of us. Now that Lea is with us, there are three first sopranos, and breathing becomes a much less complicated issue. Now you know why I get so frustrated when I can't sing. Singing with these fine musicians is a great privilege, and a LOT of fun.
There are also people, some of whom I have never met in person, who are there for me and cheer me up on down days. They are my online friends. Now, most of my Facebook friends are people I have met in person. There are a few I have only known through correspondence, some of them for YEARS. There are newer friends, friends of friends really, that have become very dear. One of those is a lady that writes for a living. Some days, she goes on a tear and the posts come flying out, and most often they are absolutely hilarious. She has brightened many days for me. She is a friend of my friend Lou. When I first "met" her on line, I knew she was all right if she was a friend of Lou. I have also met her brother a few times. So, Anne, know that you and your sense of humor are greatly appreciated here. You've been a real friend, even if we've never met face to face.
All my Beauty and the Beast fan friends are folks I have met only online, as I have never yet made it to a convention. These are some very talented people. I haven't really gotten to know anyone well yet, but they have been welcoming and friendly, and it is great fun to spend time chatting with them, or emailing.
There have been other, earlier posts in this blog appreciating various groups of people,but I felt the need today to do this, to say I appreciate the people who have found their way into my life, by whatever means, and I am very glad to know them.
One last and very important appreciation. My husband. Matt has put up with more than you would believe in the almost 29 years of our marriage so far. He is always there when I need him, though when he was active duty, that wasn't an easy thing. He puts up with my whims, he fixes my computer, he still sees me as I was 30 years ago. Bless him. I see the pictures he made for me today, and I know that lovely girl is long gone. See for yourself:
Me, in 1984 on our wedding day.
Me this morning.
I rest my case.
How about the ones you don't work with every day? It's even harder to come up with something meaningful to say how much you appreciate the fact that they are there when they are needed, always pleasant and always prepared.
For our Staff Appreciation Day on Valentine's Day, we have been asked to write short words of appreciation for all our fellow staffers, and drop them in their "Valentine's Mailboxes" that the committee has made for everyone.
My coworkers are an exceptional group of people. Most of them have advanced degrees, yet they work in a field that doesn't exactly pay a lot. They are dedicated to their jobs, and they make a real difference in this community. I feel blessed every time I go to work because I get to spend time with such a wonderful group of people. They are fun, funny, extremely talented, and they've always got my back. And I've got theirs. There has never been a place I've worked before that has felt like this. Nowhere else have I really felt like part of the team, part of the family. I value the work my coworkers do, and they value mine. There are days that make us all feel like we've been through a meat grinder, but most days, we have fun. Somebody will find the humor in whatever is going on, and find a way to jolly us all through it. We seem to take turns at it.
One way to make the humdrums lighter is to count things like how many "what are your hours?" calls we get on say, a Friday afternoon. During the first of the year, "Do you have tax forms?" is the question likely to get the highest tally. Some days, we could get a pretty high tally for calls about meeting rooms.
There are many people at my church that I appreciate, too. Of course, the clergy and staff are always appreciated, because without them, we wouldn't be able to do anything. I really appreciate my fellow choristers. We've been singing together every week now for a LOT of years. For only about 16 of us, we have a really good sound going on. Here's a link to one of our recorded anthems. (First soprano lines brought to you by yours truly and Lou Kohlman.) This link is to the whole audio library. I only sing in Cathedral Choir. Lou is also in Musica Sacra, if you want to hear more of her wonderful voice. I love singing with Lou. Lea wasn't with us when we recorded these songs, but she has become a vital part of us. Now that Lea is with us, there are three first sopranos, and breathing becomes a much less complicated issue. Now you know why I get so frustrated when I can't sing. Singing with these fine musicians is a great privilege, and a LOT of fun.
There are also people, some of whom I have never met in person, who are there for me and cheer me up on down days. They are my online friends. Now, most of my Facebook friends are people I have met in person. There are a few I have only known through correspondence, some of them for YEARS. There are newer friends, friends of friends really, that have become very dear. One of those is a lady that writes for a living. Some days, she goes on a tear and the posts come flying out, and most often they are absolutely hilarious. She has brightened many days for me. She is a friend of my friend Lou. When I first "met" her on line, I knew she was all right if she was a friend of Lou. I have also met her brother a few times. So, Anne, know that you and your sense of humor are greatly appreciated here. You've been a real friend, even if we've never met face to face.
All my Beauty and the Beast fan friends are folks I have met only online, as I have never yet made it to a convention. These are some very talented people. I haven't really gotten to know anyone well yet, but they have been welcoming and friendly, and it is great fun to spend time chatting with them, or emailing.
There have been other, earlier posts in this blog appreciating various groups of people,but I felt the need today to do this, to say I appreciate the people who have found their way into my life, by whatever means, and I am very glad to know them.
One last and very important appreciation. My husband. Matt has put up with more than you would believe in the almost 29 years of our marriage so far. He is always there when I need him, though when he was active duty, that wasn't an easy thing. He puts up with my whims, he fixes my computer, he still sees me as I was 30 years ago. Bless him. I see the pictures he made for me today, and I know that lovely girl is long gone. See for yourself:
I rest my case.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Why Are You Haunting Me, Tallulah?
Every time I get a sinus cold, I eventually sound like Tallulah Bankhead. I always knew this to be so, my own mother told me when I was a teen that I sounded EXACTLY like Tallulah Bankhead when I had a cold. After watching Lifeboat and a couple of other things she was in, I came to agree with my mother.
Tallulah Bankhead was from Alabama, as was my mother. Ms. Bankhead was from an entirely different part of the social strata than my mother, however. My grandfather was a school teacher during the Depression, which means he was unemployed a lot. Her grandfather was a U.S. Senator.
When I was younger, and didn't have so many singing commitments, sounding like Tallulah was funny, and could be fun, sometimes. Tallulah does not sing first soprano. I do. This is a problem.
These days, I sing in two different choirs, and I have voice lessons once a week. I do not like to let people down, and when Tallulah hangs around, as she has been, I can't sing very well, and I feel like I'm letting my directors and my voice coach down.
The other problem is Tallulah's personality. She can be quite sarcastic. She is a lot funnier than I am.
If I let her loose, I am afraid I will make many problems for myself. Here are some of the challenges Tallulah brings with her:
I answer the phone at work with my voice like this, and people pause a LONG time before they ask "Is this the library?" ("No, Darling. It's the city morgue. Who are you looking for?")
The older gentlemen who come to the desk do a double take when I speak. They know I don't normally sound like that. ("They're old enough to remember Tallulah, Darling." )
I develop the unfortunate tendency to call everyone "Darling."
After hearing me on the phone, one of my friends suggested I try working for the phone sex lines. ("Oh, please, Darling. I'd die of boredom.")
When it's time to do closing announcements, I must fight the temptation to say "Listen kids, it's been fun, but we have to close the place down now. Sorry to be a wet blanket, Darlings, but go home!"
Our choir director gets such a kick out of hearing me like this, he actually talks to me on purpose so I'll answer. ("You can't blame the man for having good taste, Darling.")
Tallulah overcame a lot in her life. I have read her autobiography, and I recommend it. It is an interesting read. I don't mind as much having her stop by for a visit anymore. It just gets frustrating when she won't give me back my singing voice. That she could get through the things she had to deal with and still be so funny, well, she was really a class act. Even if she had a bad reputation in some circles. Alabama is still proud of her, and that should tell you something. (Of course, Southerners are very tolerant of eccentric relatives, so maybe they view her that way...)
She and I have one thing in common. She was Episcopalian, when she attended church, that is. Seems her father sent her to the Episcopal church because her mother had been Episcopalian. I married into it. I love it, though, the tradition, the music, the very real love and faith of the people at our church. Episcopalians are not averse to having fun.
Since we almost never have bourbon in the house, she'll have to settle for a little of the Jameson's tonight. Sorry Tallulah, Darling, but this Celtic girl likes her Irish and her single malt Scotch better than bourbon. (Not often, but once in a wee while.)
Here is a picture of Tallulah. She was indeed beautiful.
Tallulah Bankhead was from Alabama, as was my mother. Ms. Bankhead was from an entirely different part of the social strata than my mother, however. My grandfather was a school teacher during the Depression, which means he was unemployed a lot. Her grandfather was a U.S. Senator.
When I was younger, and didn't have so many singing commitments, sounding like Tallulah was funny, and could be fun, sometimes. Tallulah does not sing first soprano. I do. This is a problem.
These days, I sing in two different choirs, and I have voice lessons once a week. I do not like to let people down, and when Tallulah hangs around, as she has been, I can't sing very well, and I feel like I'm letting my directors and my voice coach down.
The other problem is Tallulah's personality. She can be quite sarcastic. She is a lot funnier than I am.
If I let her loose, I am afraid I will make many problems for myself. Here are some of the challenges Tallulah brings with her:
I answer the phone at work with my voice like this, and people pause a LONG time before they ask "Is this the library?" ("No, Darling. It's the city morgue. Who are you looking for?")
The older gentlemen who come to the desk do a double take when I speak. They know I don't normally sound like that. ("They're old enough to remember Tallulah, Darling." )
I develop the unfortunate tendency to call everyone "Darling."
After hearing me on the phone, one of my friends suggested I try working for the phone sex lines. ("Oh, please, Darling. I'd die of boredom.")
When it's time to do closing announcements, I must fight the temptation to say "Listen kids, it's been fun, but we have to close the place down now. Sorry to be a wet blanket, Darlings, but go home!"
Our choir director gets such a kick out of hearing me like this, he actually talks to me on purpose so I'll answer. ("You can't blame the man for having good taste, Darling.")
Tallulah overcame a lot in her life. I have read her autobiography, and I recommend it. It is an interesting read. I don't mind as much having her stop by for a visit anymore. It just gets frustrating when she won't give me back my singing voice. That she could get through the things she had to deal with and still be so funny, well, she was really a class act. Even if she had a bad reputation in some circles. Alabama is still proud of her, and that should tell you something. (Of course, Southerners are very tolerant of eccentric relatives, so maybe they view her that way...)
She and I have one thing in common. She was Episcopalian, when she attended church, that is. Seems her father sent her to the Episcopal church because her mother had been Episcopalian. I married into it. I love it, though, the tradition, the music, the very real love and faith of the people at our church. Episcopalians are not averse to having fun.
Since we almost never have bourbon in the house, she'll have to settle for a little of the Jameson's tonight. Sorry Tallulah, Darling, but this Celtic girl likes her Irish and her single malt Scotch better than bourbon. (Not often, but once in a wee while.)
Here is a picture of Tallulah. She was indeed beautiful.
Friday, February 8, 2013
More From the Poetry Notebook
I have a book that I use for poetry exercises. One exercise asked for me to write down my 100 favorite words, and then compose a short poem using some of those words. Here are my words, and my verse. I did this probably close to seven years ago.
100 Favorite Words
opera, aria, cat, nap, diva, rose, thorn, verdure, note, finch,teapot, golden, aged, vintage, susurration, claxon, locomotive, envelope, Celtic, stench, inertia, Baroque, dominion, dog, bark, growl, spurious, apostle, gaudy, garish, tawdry, recede, Autumn, Winter, Summer, Spring, sing, you, me, husband, life, felicitous, book, writing, candle, chocolate, volume, tome, panorama, cardinal, blackbird, starling, sparrow, grackle, cowbird, fog, thunder, cozy, coffee, tea, charity, tree, clay, adobe, avocado, strawberry, apricot, potato, apple, forest, trail, smoke, horse, imagination, autonomy, solitude, rest, grandeur, scent, somnolence, wine, grape, vine, friend, convivial, antics, familiar, comfortable, stationery, pen, ink, hue, color, azure, cobalt, emerald, scarlet, cream.
Springtime Aria
Birdsong and rain
Blackbird, Starling,
Cardinal, Grackle
Thunder crackle.
Lightning's spark
Dogs bark
Inside cozy
Cheeks rosy
Watch for signs
Of verdure and vines
Scent of rose
Somnolent cat adoze.
These were true impressions of Springtime in Oklahoma. Early spring is often a mix of chilly days and humid, warm ones, beautiful sunlight, and dreary greyness. The day of the Murrah Bombing was one of the beautiful, sunny, magical looking ones. Then it turned to a nightmare. The next several days were as dreary as our spirits. Spring always brings hope and the hint of danger here. If not madmen with explosives, then thunderstorms intent upon eating our homes. The transitional seasons are always a duality.
I wrote poems about that spring. Most of them deal with my church and our recovery from damage. I believe I have posted some before, if not here, then on my Facebook page. Since this is going out in a hurry, I will find and post those another day.
I haven't found the 1995 poems yet. Here are some more bits I wrote for exercises. Some I think are pretty funny.
Song stuck inside my head
Not even one I sing
Wish I could banish it
Before I dread
The very thought of it.
A blank page.
So much potential.
So much fear
Room for joyful rambling
Or clouds of stormy rage
A missed opportunity
If you leave it blank
Risks must be taken
To reap rewards
Brought by poetry.
Still Winter clings to the land.
Its dry, brittle claws rending our skin,
Shredding the plants which try to grow.
Like some old hag, or some nearly extinct animal,
The Cold Season holds stubbornly to old ways
Rather than warming to the new.
So March roars in like a cranky, cold, old lion.
A poem to try out a verse form. Using the subject that was most on my mind at that time:
Because I'm sick
I'm coughing and sneezing
Because I'm sick
I'm croaking and wheezing
Because I'm sick
My voice is scratchy and cracks
Because I'm sick
My eyes feel like they're in burlap sacks
Because I'm sick
My very soul has a sting
Because I'm sick
So I can't sing.
100 Favorite Words
opera, aria, cat, nap, diva, rose, thorn, verdure, note, finch,teapot, golden, aged, vintage, susurration, claxon, locomotive, envelope, Celtic, stench, inertia, Baroque, dominion, dog, bark, growl, spurious, apostle, gaudy, garish, tawdry, recede, Autumn, Winter, Summer, Spring, sing, you, me, husband, life, felicitous, book, writing, candle, chocolate, volume, tome, panorama, cardinal, blackbird, starling, sparrow, grackle, cowbird, fog, thunder, cozy, coffee, tea, charity, tree, clay, adobe, avocado, strawberry, apricot, potato, apple, forest, trail, smoke, horse, imagination, autonomy, solitude, rest, grandeur, scent, somnolence, wine, grape, vine, friend, convivial, antics, familiar, comfortable, stationery, pen, ink, hue, color, azure, cobalt, emerald, scarlet, cream.
Springtime Aria
Birdsong and rain
Blackbird, Starling,
Cardinal, Grackle
Thunder crackle.
Lightning's spark
Dogs bark
Inside cozy
Cheeks rosy
Watch for signs
Of verdure and vines
Scent of rose
Somnolent cat adoze.
These were true impressions of Springtime in Oklahoma. Early spring is often a mix of chilly days and humid, warm ones, beautiful sunlight, and dreary greyness. The day of the Murrah Bombing was one of the beautiful, sunny, magical looking ones. Then it turned to a nightmare. The next several days were as dreary as our spirits. Spring always brings hope and the hint of danger here. If not madmen with explosives, then thunderstorms intent upon eating our homes. The transitional seasons are always a duality.
I wrote poems about that spring. Most of them deal with my church and our recovery from damage. I believe I have posted some before, if not here, then on my Facebook page. Since this is going out in a hurry, I will find and post those another day.
I haven't found the 1995 poems yet. Here are some more bits I wrote for exercises. Some I think are pretty funny.
Song stuck inside my head
Not even one I sing
Wish I could banish it
Before I dread
The very thought of it.
A blank page.
So much potential.
So much fear
Room for joyful rambling
Or clouds of stormy rage
A missed opportunity
If you leave it blank
Risks must be taken
To reap rewards
Brought by poetry.
Still Winter clings to the land.
Its dry, brittle claws rending our skin,
Shredding the plants which try to grow.
Like some old hag, or some nearly extinct animal,
The Cold Season holds stubbornly to old ways
Rather than warming to the new.
So March roars in like a cranky, cold, old lion.
A poem to try out a verse form. Using the subject that was most on my mind at that time:
Because I'm sick
I'm coughing and sneezing
Because I'm sick
I'm croaking and wheezing
Because I'm sick
My voice is scratchy and cracks
Because I'm sick
My eyes feel like they're in burlap sacks
Because I'm sick
My very soul has a sting
Because I'm sick
So I can't sing.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
"My" Kids
These are MY kids. The one and only class of kiddos that was mine for a whole school year. The rest of my teaching career, I subbed, in order to be better able to support my husband's Air Force career. These kids were just an ordinary bunch of second graders in that school district in that school year. They are all very special to me, though. I remember each and every one of them, and I wonder how they are now that they're all grown up and probably have kids of their own. The first name that comes back to me is the one I probably had to call out the most. Toby. Tobias Joseph Gonzales. Too smart and way too cute for his own good. Always done with his work early, and unable to resist the temptation to stick his nose in a classmate's business. We had many battles of will, Toby and I. He spent more than a few recesses either on the bench, or at his desk with his head down. He also got to write sentences a lot. However, I will never forget that impish grin, or the way he stayed behind right before the Christmas break, so he could give me a hug before he left without all the other kids seeing him. (Was OK for the other teachers to see, just not the other kids, I guess.)
Rafael Cervantes. Oh, another smart one, and very opinionated, too. But a helpful young man. He always helped me translate my bulletin boards so I could have both English and Spanish on each board, and he came back after school almost every day, finished his own homework, and helped me straighten up the classroom a little. (He put the papers I graded in everyone's mailbox for them, took the trash out to the big can for Regis, our janitor. Stuff like that.) Daniel Ineza. Oh, I wonder what ever happened to that young man who had SUCH a sense of justice. If I was inconsistent, Daniel called me on it. I always wondered if he'd go into law. He was smart enough, just not as quick as Rafael or Toby, but definitely intelligent enough. He'd have been very dedicated, too. He used to come after school and help with some cleanup, too. He and Rafael always went home to change and to check in with their folks before they came back, and I only let them stay if Mr. Slater was also working in his room, so we wouldn't be out there all alone. (Our corridor was kinda lonesome, and that neighborhood wasn't always the nicest one in town.) Daniel and Rafael were the ones who used to make fun of my old Pinto station wagon when it wouldn't start. They'd dance around the car and sing "Este carconcha no sirve, Teacher!" in their very finest Spanglish. Sigh. We tried to teach them proper grammar in both languages, but, oh, well.
Gilbert Cruz. Oh, Gilbert. I wanted to fight for him. Especially after one of the adults in authority very unprofessionally referred to him as "that Cruz kid." He was a live wire, but he was eight years old, for God's sake. So he forgot to take his ball cap off in the classroom sometimes. Well,he wasn't in the Army, so it wasn't THAT important. He usually remembered soon enough. I was VERY tired by the end of our field trip to the Natural History Museum, though, because I had to have Gilbert by my side the whole time so he wouldn't run off.
I had some darling girls in my class. Esmeralda Hernandez, who was sweet and always did what she was supposed to do, likewise Teresa, Olivia Sandoval, Olivia Zapata, in fact, all my girls were pretty well behaved. I had 20 girls in that class, and only about eight boys. The only girls I had to get after much were Esmeralda Reyes and Yasmin Barrientos. Esmeralda for getting up and wandering around the classroom, and Yasmin for "not hearing" our bell at lunchtime when she was busy playing tetherball. I also had a few discussions with Veronica Tapia about tattling. I had to keep my aide from wanting to clobber Veronica a few times. (I admit, the kid could get on your nerves, but well, she was just a kid.) Her mother always dressed her in beautiful little dresses with petticoats and patent leather Mary Janes with lace trimmed ankle socks. Just like the stuff we used to wear when I was in Second Grade. The other kids usually wore plainer clothes than that, and a lot of the girls wore pants. I had a bunch of corduroy skirts that came to mid-calf, with pockets, and I had sweaters or light blouses and blazers to wear with them. I also had chalk in every pocket of every garment I ever wore in the classroom.
I should also mention Ki'Lee. She was our "special needs" child. She had a mild hearing loss, and was a bit socially backward, but the class was VERY protective of her. Nobody from another class EVER teased her. In fact, my boys were usually watching to make sure nobody bothered her. She got to meet Tom Selleck when she participated in Special Olympics. She had her picture made with him and brought it to class to share. We were all very proud of her.
It was Toby's job to remind me to pick up my keys before we left the classroom, because I had locked us out twice already that year, and Regis wasn't happy with me. Since Toby liked being able to get on my case about something for a change, he ALWAYS checked the middle of my desk where I always dropped my keys to make SURE I picked them up before we left the room.
Yard duty was always loads of fun. I had a bevy of kids, usually mine, who would stick close to me. I'd tell them to go play, but they wanted to hang out with me. The ones who did go play always wanted me to hold stuff for them. Lucky for them I nearly always had pockets. The principal once commented that she could tell those kids loved me. Well, I loved them. I guess they could tell. A few used to mess up when they were excited about something and call me "Mom". I loved it. As long as they were at the school, I was legally responsible for them, so I guess that you could call me a "School Marm."
Earthquake drills were always fun. We were supposed to all get under our desks or tables. Well, I'd get under the reading table, but I usually had a bunch of company. I had to make them see that they'd be safer under their own desks, and that I would be sure to get EVERYBODY out if we ever did have a real earthquake.
One of the funnier things that happened involved our Science textbook. We were reading a lesson about space one day, and it said "Someday, we will land on the moon." or something like that. One of my boys, (Rafael, I'm almost certain.) raised his hand and said, "Um, Teacher, didn't we ALREADY land on the moon? Like a LONG time ago?" I said "Yes, we did. In 1969. Everybody turn to the very front of you textbook and find the place where it tells you what year the book was published." Rafael again, "1967, teacher! Teacher, these books are really OLD!" "Yes. I answered. These are the same textbooks that were brand new the year I was in Second Grade. Our new textbooks have been ordered, but didn't arrive yet. Books are VERY expensive, and we have to have them in many subjects, so it has taken a very long time to replace our Science books." We then talked about how soon after that book was published that we DID land on the moon. (About two years, maybe a little more.) We talked about the nature of books and how fast things can happen that can change what needs to be in a book. This was before computers were commonplace in classrooms, and long before there was such a thing as the Internet. Our school did have an Apple IIe. It was in the resource room, and only the sixth graders ever got to use it.
That was one of the things that made me decide to do part of my grad school coursework on Educational Computing. I got my Certificate in Educational Computing in 1988. I never finished the Reading Specialist Credential, we moved to Germany before I could complete that program. A computer in the classroom would have made so many things easier. We had ten tons of paperwork because of the federal funding for our bilingual program, and it sure would've been nice not to have to handwrite all those records.
I hope those kids are out there on the Internet somewhere, and that they remember me fondly. We had fun most of the time in our class, and according to our goals and test scores, we learned quite a bit, too. They taught me about how hard it is to love kids and be responsible for them and to them, but also how rewarding it can be. Wherever you are, my children, know that I still love you, and I pray for you.
The students pictured are: Back row, Margaret Quintana (aide), Elizabeth Martinez, Steven Velasco, Jennifer Turner, Norma Rivera, Olivia Zapata, Lorena Crotti, Yasmin Barrientos, Ki'Lee Fuller
Middle Row: Esmeralda Hernandez, Antonio Villegas, Rafael Cervantes, Blanca Sanchez, Gilbert Cruz, Daniel Ineza, Eugenio Macias, Bertha Sanchez, Teresa Rodriquez
Sitting: Christi Lane, Veronica Tapia, Olivia Sandoval, Ferny Vargas, Esmeralda Reyes, Toby Gonzales, Georgina Vargas , Sammy Garcia. Of course, I am standing behind Teresa and right next to Ki'Lee, hiding Gilbert's ball cap behind my back!
Sunday, February 3, 2013
On Being Detached From Reality
Since I was a snot factory this morning, I didn't feel like going to church and making everyone else just as uncomfortable as I am. I stayed home. (Actually, I went to the grocery store on the corner for a few minutes to restock my La Croix water and my Coke Zero.) That accomplished, I spent most of the day reading or knitting while watching some TV shows on the computer.
Yup. When I don't feel good, my life is EXTRA boring.
This whole weekend has felt like it was spent in another dimension or something. The only normal thing that happened was that laundry got done. (And I still have one load to fold and put away.)
The rest of the country was watching the Superbowl, I was reading tweets about it. (Some of them extremely entertaining.) Just my luck, the one year the game is decent, and I didn't watch. Oh, well. I wasn't able to focus on anything for that long at a time anyway.
Strange how dependent we become on our little routines. Let something disrupt them, especially several of them, and we tend to come a bit unglued. At least, people like me do. Some of us like order in life, and when things get too chaotic, it becomes very difficult to function. Then it takes awhile to get back into the routines again. Or to establish new ones.
Right now, I'd just like to be able to re-establish the routine of breathing through my nose.
Not looking like Rudolph would be a plus, too. At least I don't sound like Tallulah. But I still can't sing. That is what really makes me mad. I HATE not being able to sing. (Especially when I have a lot of music to learn!)
The worst part of being ill is the fact that you can't always trust your brain. Sometimes, it comes up with stuff that you just KNOW isn't right. Like how I was pretty sure the Ravens would win the Super Bowl because I had Poe's poem stuck in my head for the last couple of weeks. (And so the raven remains in my room. No matter how much I implore. No words can soothe him, no prayer remove him, so I must hear forever more.......Quoth the raven: "Nevermore") Why would that poem make any difference? It wouldn't. My brain is not trustworthy today.
Add to that the fact that my brain wanders off without telling me that it's going or WHERE it's going. I've been staring at the screen here for quite awhile, and my brain just now ambled back with an "Oh, sorry about that. Guess I kind of left you hanging there...." That's one reason I could never memorize piano pieces. My brain just gets bored and wanders off, leaving my fingers to make something up. I can memorize something to sing, but the long arias are a real challenge. I can't blame middle age (joke, only middle aged if I plan to live to be 106, and I don't) for this because it's been happening since I was a kid. First piano recital when I was 7, and my teacher figured out that my brain just wasn't trustworthy with memorized piano music.
Here's hoping normal brain function and breathing return tomorrow. I have to take the cat to the vet, and Tuesday, thanks be to God, I get my hair cut and colored. It's been driving me NUTS. I am hoping to feel almost human by then. Off now to try and convince my nose that horizontal will work as an orientation in space. Vertical isn't doing so hot, so maybe horizontal will work better. Further hoping that I will be able to write something of some actual substance again soon.
The source of being indisposed
Is this stuffy, but drippy, awful nose.
To make it even worse, my dears.
The congestion has also plugged my ears.
Throat is scratchy, there's a little cough
It itches on the roof of my mouth/
My lips are chapped, my nose is sore
Thus quoth the raven: "Forevermore."
Yup. When I don't feel good, my life is EXTRA boring.
This whole weekend has felt like it was spent in another dimension or something. The only normal thing that happened was that laundry got done. (And I still have one load to fold and put away.)
The rest of the country was watching the Superbowl, I was reading tweets about it. (Some of them extremely entertaining.) Just my luck, the one year the game is decent, and I didn't watch. Oh, well. I wasn't able to focus on anything for that long at a time anyway.
Strange how dependent we become on our little routines. Let something disrupt them, especially several of them, and we tend to come a bit unglued. At least, people like me do. Some of us like order in life, and when things get too chaotic, it becomes very difficult to function. Then it takes awhile to get back into the routines again. Or to establish new ones.
Right now, I'd just like to be able to re-establish the routine of breathing through my nose.
Not looking like Rudolph would be a plus, too. At least I don't sound like Tallulah. But I still can't sing. That is what really makes me mad. I HATE not being able to sing. (Especially when I have a lot of music to learn!)
The worst part of being ill is the fact that you can't always trust your brain. Sometimes, it comes up with stuff that you just KNOW isn't right. Like how I was pretty sure the Ravens would win the Super Bowl because I had Poe's poem stuck in my head for the last couple of weeks. (And so the raven remains in my room. No matter how much I implore. No words can soothe him, no prayer remove him, so I must hear forever more.......Quoth the raven: "Nevermore") Why would that poem make any difference? It wouldn't. My brain is not trustworthy today.
Add to that the fact that my brain wanders off without telling me that it's going or WHERE it's going. I've been staring at the screen here for quite awhile, and my brain just now ambled back with an "Oh, sorry about that. Guess I kind of left you hanging there...." That's one reason I could never memorize piano pieces. My brain just gets bored and wanders off, leaving my fingers to make something up. I can memorize something to sing, but the long arias are a real challenge. I can't blame middle age (joke, only middle aged if I plan to live to be 106, and I don't) for this because it's been happening since I was a kid. First piano recital when I was 7, and my teacher figured out that my brain just wasn't trustworthy with memorized piano music.
Here's hoping normal brain function and breathing return tomorrow. I have to take the cat to the vet, and Tuesday, thanks be to God, I get my hair cut and colored. It's been driving me NUTS. I am hoping to feel almost human by then. Off now to try and convince my nose that horizontal will work as an orientation in space. Vertical isn't doing so hot, so maybe horizontal will work better. Further hoping that I will be able to write something of some actual substance again soon.
The source of being indisposed
Is this stuffy, but drippy, awful nose.
To make it even worse, my dears.
The congestion has also plugged my ears.
Throat is scratchy, there's a little cough
It itches on the roof of my mouth/
My lips are chapped, my nose is sore
Thus quoth the raven: "Forevermore."
Saturday, February 2, 2013
This, That, and The Other Thing
So. It appears I DO have a cold. I have been keeping away from the kitchen as Matt is making goodies to take to church tomorrow. I have only been in there to have a soda handed to me.
It is surreal how my head feels right now. There seems to be an ocean in there, and the tide goes in and out on a whim. I hear it, and feel the pressure in my head. Also, just as soon as I am convinced that the medicines I took have kicked in, the nose will start trying to drip, I will sneeze repeatedly, and the roof of my mouth AND the insides of my ears will itch. (I guess it still could be allergies, but I really doubt it) It sometimes feels like I am going back and forth between two dimensions...
Guess I won't be auditioning for any solos on Tuesday night. If the ears don't clear, there is NO WAY I'm going to be able to sing. Tallulah hasn't shown up, but her evil henchmen have. (Congestion plays havoc with resonance and the musculature used in singing. Also, ear congestion can get painful when you try to sing, and the sense of pitch is adversely affected.)
There is an online Beauty and the Beast "convention" going on right now. It's called Winterfest Online, and it is a great deal of fun. I have read stories, played games, chatted with other fans, looked at art work, watched fan made videos, there are even round robin stories you can add to if you want. (I can't write fiction worth beans, so I'm not even going to try, but I want to read the finished stories!)
There are some extremely talented people in this fandom. They are really nice, too. More nurturing of newbies than most Star Trek fan groups are.
It's February already. How the heck did THAT happen? Did somebody mess with the TARDIS and speed this timeline up or something? Or is it just that time escapes more quickly because I am older now? I remember when I was a kid, it seemed like FOREVER between Christmas and my birthday. Now, it zooms past in the blink of an eye. (Ooh. Said blink. Don't blink, not if you're a Whovian and there are Angels nearby!) (I've had several antihistamines today. Can you tell?)
Oh, yeah. I think I have laundry going, too. Guess I should go check on it...
OK, I'm back. Dryer still needs a few minutes.
I have a couple of books going at the moment. One is the latest of one of the series I follow, but I haven't been able to get into it much yet. The other is Dave Barry's new book Insane City. It is really funny. It also has some sad parts. Amazingly enough, there is more to it than a series of jokes. I seem to remember that quality in his last novel. It has been a LOONG time since I read that one. And I read so much. Between the fan fiction, the non-fiction and the series mysteries, I am surprised I can keep anything straight in my brain anymore. But Insane City is turning out to be strangely compelling. Not riveting, not so that I can't stop reading and must continue no matter what, but I must go back and read some more, mull that over, perhaps laugh out loud a few times, read some more and wonder when it stopped being all about the gags. Good job, Mr. Barry. If I can follow your writing and enjoy it, and find myself thinking about it when I am on THIS much antihistamine, you have really done a good job.
The other books I am currently reading are Phillip DePoy's December's Thorn, which I am sure is a good book, just not one I have had the chance to spend a lot of time with yet. I am also reading The Mole People about the homeless in New York's subway tunnels. (Sound familiar to any BATB fans out there? Well, this is a serious look at a real tunnel society, or societies, and none of them as nurturing as the tunnel society WE love.) The author is Jennifer Toth, and it was published in1993. I am also reading, in bits and pieces, Anna Quindlen's Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake. There are also all of the Lord Peter/Harriet Vane mysteries by Dorothy L. Sayers on my Nook waiting for me to re- read them. It;s been awhile.
So, that's about all for me today. Nothing very organized, I'm afraid. I blame the antihistamines and the germs having a party in my head. Gotta go check on that dryer again. Something more coherent in a day or two, I hope.
It is surreal how my head feels right now. There seems to be an ocean in there, and the tide goes in and out on a whim. I hear it, and feel the pressure in my head. Also, just as soon as I am convinced that the medicines I took have kicked in, the nose will start trying to drip, I will sneeze repeatedly, and the roof of my mouth AND the insides of my ears will itch. (I guess it still could be allergies, but I really doubt it) It sometimes feels like I am going back and forth between two dimensions...
Guess I won't be auditioning for any solos on Tuesday night. If the ears don't clear, there is NO WAY I'm going to be able to sing. Tallulah hasn't shown up, but her evil henchmen have. (Congestion plays havoc with resonance and the musculature used in singing. Also, ear congestion can get painful when you try to sing, and the sense of pitch is adversely affected.)
There is an online Beauty and the Beast "convention" going on right now. It's called Winterfest Online, and it is a great deal of fun. I have read stories, played games, chatted with other fans, looked at art work, watched fan made videos, there are even round robin stories you can add to if you want. (I can't write fiction worth beans, so I'm not even going to try, but I want to read the finished stories!)
There are some extremely talented people in this fandom. They are really nice, too. More nurturing of newbies than most Star Trek fan groups are.
It's February already. How the heck did THAT happen? Did somebody mess with the TARDIS and speed this timeline up or something? Or is it just that time escapes more quickly because I am older now? I remember when I was a kid, it seemed like FOREVER between Christmas and my birthday. Now, it zooms past in the blink of an eye. (Ooh. Said blink. Don't blink, not if you're a Whovian and there are Angels nearby!) (I've had several antihistamines today. Can you tell?)
Oh, yeah. I think I have laundry going, too. Guess I should go check on it...
OK, I'm back. Dryer still needs a few minutes.
I have a couple of books going at the moment. One is the latest of one of the series I follow, but I haven't been able to get into it much yet. The other is Dave Barry's new book Insane City. It is really funny. It also has some sad parts. Amazingly enough, there is more to it than a series of jokes. I seem to remember that quality in his last novel. It has been a LOONG time since I read that one. And I read so much. Between the fan fiction, the non-fiction and the series mysteries, I am surprised I can keep anything straight in my brain anymore. But Insane City is turning out to be strangely compelling. Not riveting, not so that I can't stop reading and must continue no matter what, but I must go back and read some more, mull that over, perhaps laugh out loud a few times, read some more and wonder when it stopped being all about the gags. Good job, Mr. Barry. If I can follow your writing and enjoy it, and find myself thinking about it when I am on THIS much antihistamine, you have really done a good job.
The other books I am currently reading are Phillip DePoy's December's Thorn, which I am sure is a good book, just not one I have had the chance to spend a lot of time with yet. I am also reading The Mole People about the homeless in New York's subway tunnels. (Sound familiar to any BATB fans out there? Well, this is a serious look at a real tunnel society, or societies, and none of them as nurturing as the tunnel society WE love.) The author is Jennifer Toth, and it was published in1993. I am also reading, in bits and pieces, Anna Quindlen's Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake. There are also all of the Lord Peter/Harriet Vane mysteries by Dorothy L. Sayers on my Nook waiting for me to re- read them. It;s been awhile.
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