%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |  Just play: don't look at your hands! |
What a dumb title for a person who never got a single star  on her piano lessons!Daily practice is the thing though: the practice of noticing as well as of writing.  However, I'd much rather play duets than solos, so hop right in! You can do the melody or the base part, I don't care.  Just play along--we'll make up the tune as we go. I'll try to write regularly and deliberately. Sometimes I will do it poorly, tritely, stiltedly, obscurely. I will try to persevere regardless. It seems to be where my heart wants to go, and that means to me that God wants me there too. See you tomorrow. ![Merit Badge in Journaling
[Click For More Info]
For wonderfully creative and imaginative writing](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/type-Journaling-2180.gif) |
| After the second night of H.M.S. Pinafore, I was afraid the crew had peaked too soon. Their first night, while certainly far from perfect, outdid the following evening. Then yesterday afternoon they got it together, and everything went well! Hip hip hooray! I have a bunch of things to do tonight while Bill is at a meeting. Since he won't be out practicing all the other nights of the week, I'll have to snag my time to myself wherever I can. So, to give you a little entertainment, here's a site someone passed on to me that was very clever. HEMA is a Dutch department store. Take a look at HEMA's product page. You can't order anything from this page, and it's in Dutch; but just wait a couple of seconds and watch what happens. Don't click on any of the products pictured, just wait and see. And be sure you have your sound turned on. This company has a sense of humor and a great computer programmer, ya? http://producten.hema.nl/ |
  The first night of H.M.S. Pinafore went surprisingly well. I hadn't ever seen the whole thing before. "What, never?" "Hardly ever." That's a piece of dialog (sometimes lyrics) that comes up several times. Another is, "What was that?" "It was the cat," meaning the cat of nine tails, the whip that the captain intends to use on the 'lowly tar,' the seaman who is in love with his daughter. The tale, for those of you unfamiliar with this Gilbert & Sullivan epic, is about the sailor, Ralph (pronounced Raif,) and the captain's daughter, Josephine, who are in love but cannot be together because of their very different stations. Josephine is pledged to the admiral, Sir Joseph, played by Bill. This intended marriage is what the captain wants. It will be good for his own career, as well as give Josephine the life she has been born into. When he hears that she does not like Sir Joseph, he is very distressed, and he pours out his heart to Buttercup, a woman who comes aboard to sell trinkets to the sailors. He is charmed by her understanding, and wishes he and she could be together, but, of course, their stations are also too different, alas. It is all very melodramatic, and funny. My pictures from last night turned out well, and I'm going again in a few minutes to sit in a different place and take more. I was in the second row last night, and I kept cutting off people's feet, so I need to aim a little higher. Oh my! That didn't sound good, did it! I've spent much of the day today trying to fix the part of the costume Bill spilled lemonade on. It made a big stain on the gold satin, but I finally got it taken care of. Then we had time for a little plane ride, a few touch and go landings at a nearby airport, and then to a winery to pick up our monthly club member bottle, then home. He really needed a nap before last night's performance, and even more tonight; but each time he tried, the phone rang four or five times, after a whole day of silence. Maddening! |
 Daffodil's Debut the snow is almost gone and, though I've had no time to practice, today is my day to shine. "Stand up straight." "Be brave, little daffodil, you'll do us proud." here I am, watching the grass grow, waiting nervously for my cue "Spring." I heard it! I'm on! Ta Da! I am here to fill your heart with joy! Tonight is Bill's dress rehearsal for HMS Pinafore, and so I have plays on my mind. I thought at first this daffodil reminded me of a spotlight, but then I noticed how shy she looked and thought of her as a performer. The spring performance of flowers around here has been vibrant. I wish they lasted longer. The winds blow away the blossoms far too soon, and the air between my house and the neighbor's flowering plums are filled with petals. Once I was in Spokane in April, thought I was seeing the petal shower, and realized it was big snowflakes instead! I know I planted some pink angeliques last year. I hope they're just late bloomers because I can't find them anywhere. |
| Tonight I intended to blog, but it looks like I'll be trying to clean up poor Seamus, who has some intestinal distress, to put it nicely. He has an appointment next week at the groomers, but this probably can't wait. I'm trying to get up the guts to haul him into the bathtub, knowing I will smell the smell all night no matter what. I poured some pepto-bismal down him, which insulted him greatly, and am cooking some rice for him right now, with just a bit of chicken for flavor. Spent too much of today inside for such a beautiful day, but I did get some good pictures this morning. After that I was in a darkened room for a teleconference on children's grief. Did you know that kids who had MySpace sites continue to receive lots of comments and hits after they've died, and that that is one of the newest resources for teens for grieving. They might not "journal" but they'll pour out their hearts in places like that. Okay, I'm off to the odious task. Mavis, I could sure use a hand. P.S. If I can keep him comfortable outside till it's over, that would be better timing, wouldn't it? But, I accidentally burned the rice. Maybe that smell will overpower the other?  |
| Yea! We already have our taxes in! And, some day, we'll get a refund. I hope. |
| Once again it's been a wrestling match to get these pictures in here, and I'm sorry they're just thumbnails. I took them in two areas, the orchard and the city park. The big sycamores almost make me think of creatures from Fantasia. I can imagine them coming to life, picking up rakes and pulling kites out of their branches. Our big windstorm uprooted hundreds of trees in January, but those giants seem to be in tact, even their very low limbs that need support, especially when climbed on. Maybe i'll have to keep trying....  |
| It was a beautiful day for a drive, or staying home and working in the yard, or about anything else you can think of outside. My new patient complained that she hadn't been outside her house in a year and it was all her doctor's fault, but I'm not sure if either of those statements was true. The nurse told me I'd really like her, and maybe I'll learn to. Today I thought she was a cantankerous, angry, bossy old lady. She yelled at her caregiver about everything and made little side comments. "I don't know why he didn't turn that TV off sooner. I told him three times." She had told him to turn it off before he left. Maybe it was a case of seeing myself a little. I know I've said things to make myself sound smarter than someone else, just like that. And I've bragged about some product that I used and wouldn't have any other, for the same reason-- to look savvy. Her beverage of choice, two glasses in the morning and two in the afternoon, is Liebfraumilch; but, she says, since she can't get it around here any more she drinks Blue Nun. I think I've pretty much grown out of that habit, to need to look smart, but not entirely. I don't do the put-down thing any more, well not very often. Maybe just a little returned one-upsmanship with my husband occasionally. She, on the other hand, had all the exasperated sighs and mutterings down pat, and I didn't find her pleasant or amusing. I wonder why the nurse thought I would?  Speaking of husbandly things, maybe some of you have had versions of the following conversation: "Do you think we have a picture frame that will fit it?" Bill asks. "Fit what?" "I want to print out the picture you took and frame it." He sounds testy by now. "What picture do you mean?" I haven't a clue. "The one of me, that I have to give to Josephine." "I don't know what you're talking about." "Weren't you listening? I need that picture for the play!" Oh, Josephine is a character, and Bill had me take his picture the other night in his admiral's hat, but I thought it was just because he liked the way he looked, or wanted to show it around for publicity for the play, or who knows what. I didn't know it was to be a prop. That was this morning's interchange. A few weeks ago we had a similar one on a different subject but instead of ending in, "You never listen," or words to that effect, it ended with his loud, "I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" At that particular time, Bill did an odd thing. In a very nice voice he said, "I think I understand why you talk to me when I can't hear you. You don't pay any attention to the ambient noise." And he gave me some examples of the ambient noise in his room that I should have noticed. Knowing full well that he talks to me from his computer room when I'm doing the laundry, or running the disposal in the sink, I asked if he didn't possibly think he did that too. No, he said. He pays attention to those things. You can maybe guess how frequently in the past two weeks, instead of running in to where he is to hear what he's saying, I've answered his indecipherable sentences with, "Ambient noise, dear!"  |
| Margot was headed for her driveway when she spotted Wren, sitting on the front porch, enjoying the first warm day of spring and reading a book. Abruptly steering her car to the right, she slid in beside Wren's Prius, turned off the ignition and strode across the lawn. "How do you like it?" Margot called. "Isn't it super!" "It's terrific, and it certainly suits you, but I thought you said you'd gone green. It isn't a hybrid, is it?" Wren asked. "Well, it's British racing green. That's good enough for me." Margot made a face, and Wren laughed. "Want to go for a ride?" "No, not right now, I don't think. I was just finishing this page, and then I need to get the potatoes peeled for supper. Maybe tomorrow though, if you're up for it. I'd love an excuse to go up to the lake if the weather is as nice as it is today." "I think I could manage that, if I finish up with my client by lunchtime. So, what are you reading? Anything I might want to borrow?" Wren replied, "Oh, I don't think it's anything you'd be interested in." "Too intellectual for me?" Margot chided. "Try me." "It's Thomas Merton," Wren said. "Here, I'll read you this bit. I think it's rather wonderful." My Lord, You have heard the cry of my heart because it was You Who cried out within my heart. Forgive me for having tried to evoke Your presence in my own silence: it is You Who must create me within Your own silence! "Is that about enough?" Wren asked. "No, go on. It's a bit over my head, but I want to hear the rest. There isn't much more, is there?" Wren laughed. "All right. Let's see.... ‘You are not found in the Temple merely by the expulsion of the money changers. You are not found on the mountain every time there is a cloud. The earth swallowed those who offered incense without having been found, and called, and known by You. If I find Him with great ease, perhaps He is not my God. If I cannot hope to find Him at all, is He my God? If I find Him wherever I wish, have I found Him? If He can find me whenever He wishes, and tells me Who He is and who I am, and if I then know that He Whom I could not find has found me: then I know He is the Lord, my God: He has touched me with the finger that made me out of nothing.' "There, what do you make of it?" "I'll give it a go. He's saying that God doesn't come to us on our own terms, and we can't find him wherever and whenever we might want to. God is bigger than all that. Am I close?" "I'm impressed." "You won't be when I go on." "What do you mean?" "I think God is like a cat, and we want him to be like a dog, waiting for us and wagging his tail. Instead, he comes if and when he chooses. Like my cat Chloe, who occasionally graces me with her presence. Rascal wants my attention full time, but I don't think God's like that, do you?" Wren stared at her a minute, then said, "No. And I think that's very clever of you. Maybe I'll bring the book along tomorrow on our ride." "Oh please don't. That's enough philosophizing to last me for the year. But it was fun. Thanks for not laughing at me," Margot said. "I hope I would never laugh at you when you were being serious. I won't bring the book tomorrow, but I might tell you why that passage is important to me." "Well, maybe. But I might rather get away from thinking and just go have fun. I'll call you tomorrow," she said, as she turned toward the car. |
The above sign came from a blog that is rich in folk art and folk legend. Many of her signs and pictures can be purchased there, and the little homemade and/or vintage items are called etsies. I don't know where the name came from, but there's a site by that name, a cross between ebay and grandma's attic. I like the sign because it reminds me to look beyond the known and concrete, to value imagination and curiosity as more than, uh, curiosities. It makes me think of my favorite line from the Nicene Creed, "We believe in...all things visible and invisible." That too invites me to remember that our lives, our world, are made up of many elements that can't be seen or measured. Not gremlins or UFOs, but the intangibles like love and honor that make our lives worth living. A spirit of kindness, and of charity, a desire for justice-- these are, of course, just some of the good things we imagine and make happen, such as we can. Have good, imaginative days today. Try something new. |
| I haven't long to blog tonight, because Bill is waiting for me to practice his lines with him. He's the Admiral in Gilbert and Sullivan's H.M.S. Pinafore, which will be starting in two short weeks. He knows all the singing parts, but the lines are still alluding him. That's why I've never wanted to be in a play either: memorization is hard. His lines are particularly difficult: too many similarities between one response and the next, and the ones in the following scene, but not quite the same. The main difficulty is that the man playing the captain has missed so many practices. Bill called one night last week and begged me to come and read lines to him while he waited for his part. I was slightly annoyed at first, since I was trying to do my on-line Word lesson. Of course I was caught up in the production and the off-stage drama as soon as I got there, and didn't mind at all. The man playing the character Ralph (pronounced Rafe) (Do the English still say it that way?) was a late comer. They'd had a hard time finding someone, a tenor, willing to do the part. (This is a very amateur production, done as a benefit for the new library we have in our little town, to help pay the bills.) The director is a wonderful woman, a friend of mine, in her 70's, with lots of energy and experience. Nevertheless, she is wringing her hands and tearing out her hair at the difficulty of pulling this thing together. It will be held in the high school auditorium in just two weeks. The sets are good, the costumes coming along well, but the main parts are iffy, due to lack of attendance. Buttercup couldn't be there last week due to a family emergency, but we never heard the Captain's excuse. Ralph is played by a man who doesn't appear to be the brightest bulb in the marquis. His father is a principal or superintendent of one of the schools, and he is a janitor. He has a bit of a speech impediment, and a shaved head. Nevertheless, he has a good, strong tenor voice and few lines. At the practice I attended, the director told him to take a step forward with one line, and another step forward with the next. Since he is standing stage left, she told him to lead off with his right foot. He balked at that, saying he had had several years in the military and knew better. When she tried to override his complaint, he stormed out, saying he didn't have to take that kind of treatment and that he had to "go pray about it." Darn these Christians. Don't they know that doesn't make points with anyone? The whole cast stood around for a few minutes waiting for him to come back, until the director had them practice something else. It never occurred to him that he was interfering with other people's work, that he should suck it up and get on with it. We have a hat to make tonight as well. Can you picture the officers' hats from 1885? They're pointy, front and back, with a fancy button on top. Bill borrowed a real one from a friend, to take a look at it. Because there are none around to rent, the next best thing is to make his own. He got a cowboy hat, and, with instructions from a costumer, soaked it in water. Then we rolled the sides of the brim up so that they come to almost points front and back, and stuffed the crown with a bag of beans to round it out. His first hat, just for effect, had one of those shower scrubbers made of net that pouf out into a ball on top. It was surprisingly okay. Well, this entry didn't go where I aimed it at all, not a single rainbow in it. I think it's long enough though; will get back to rainbows another night. Bill has been occupied working on a flight plan to Florida, but he needs to stop that play and practice lines. So, since he's now contemplating making it from Little Rock to Brigham City, he must be on his way back. I'd better go find the script. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
