New Year's Resolutions and Other Hooey

I never make resolutions anymore. This is mainly because I know I will never keep them. And also because it's somewhat arbitrary to decide to do something just because everyone else is doing it. However, this year seems like more of a fresh start than most. In 2010, I lost my mother and then a month later a very dear coworker died suddenly. Then Chris lost his job and then I learned that the libraries were reorganizing and my job would change somehow. I'd have to go through a round of interviews to find out. Lo and behold... a promotion, just when Chris found a job...

That he hated.

So we moved. Then he quit. Then he accepted Job 3 of 2010. Then Athena changed schools.

The only thing that could have made the year more stressful is if we'd had a baby or gotten a divorce. Fortunately, we did neither. My head might have exploded.

So, in walks 2011 and I says to the Year, I says... "Year, you better not suck even 1/4 as much as last Year did. And really, that still gives you plenty of suckage allowance. And Year, can we do something about making me feel less like a blobby waste of protoplasm and more like the Wonder Woman I felt like two years ago? Maybe?"

And the Year said, "Well, you COULD make that same diet resolution that everyone else makes. That's always good for a laugh."

And I said, "As much as I'd like my failures to amuse you, Year, I know better than to do that. Any other thoughts?"

And we thought, and we thought, and then we thought some more. And then I looked over and saw this book. I had no idea who this celebrity chef was, but I was intrigued by her formula. Three meals each week, designed to flow with the seasons somewhat, that are easy to make and actually can build off one another so that you can use leftovers almost immediately in a different dish. Seemed very similar to my experience with Dream Dinners, which is now, sadly, quite out of business in my area of the world.

I bought this book last year because it held promise of a way to get me in the kitchen more and in a more organized fashion. It also would, by default, be healthier because it would provide me some variety without being too complicated. She leans heavily toward Mexican and Asian cuisine, which are two areas I've done VERY little cooking in. But now as Year and I looked over at it, I realized my resolution could be way easier and more concrete than "Diet and Exercise." Now my resolution could be simply, "Cook everything in this book, in order, whether you think you'll like it or not and see what happens."

So that's the deal Year and I made with one another. So far, so good. I've done two weeks of her recipes and all have gotten better than a C grade from the spouse and myself. We don't ask the kids. Although Athena has been pretty pleased so far. Marcus may actually starve to death. We're watching.

I'm using ingredients I've never even held in my hand before (habanero peppers and hot sauce to name a couple -- and not in the same recipe, thank goodness) and I've made dishes I normally wouldn't want to eat even if I'd been served it at someone else's house (zuppa di pesce -- I don't like tomato-based soups in general). I am finding that my taste buds are more adventurous than I gave them credit for and I've probably eaten more vegetables in the last two weeks than I did in the entire Year of 2010. Take THAT, evil Year.

I did make two other resolutions. Read 30 books (three more than last year) and write more. One book down, one blog post down. Boo yah!

The Year That Needs to Die

So I have been away from blogging for a while. There have been several factors involved in my separation... many of which involve personal introspection that even journaling would not help with. But I must admit that I feel guilty that these last couple of years are completely now outside the scope of this blog and therefore they will be non-years in effect when I read back over my writing or when my children read back over it. The reason I've never felt that I'd abandon blogging forever, in truth, is my children.

This has been reinforced as I now troll through my mother's things and find lots and lots of junk with little tiny treasures sprinkled in. There is a picture of my grandmother while she was on vacation at a place that inspired one of the Disney resorts I have patronized. There is the furniture that my father made for my mother to display her shadowboxes in. And there is the typed up collection of letters that my grandmother sent to my grandfather daily when he was away during World War II and she was home with my mother and her infant brother. These remind me how important it will be for my children to have my writing in order to get to know me better and to learn more about themselves as well.

Most of the time I've been away from blogging has been simply due to writer's block brought on by several different factors. During that time, I was reexamining my life and my priorities. I still haven't quite got it figured out, but a path seems to be emerging for me to take.

But since November of 2009, when we took our 10th anniversary vacation, life has simply been too extreme to really keep up with it in writing. We had a one month battle with lice that we seem to have picked up on the cruise. That was followed by Christmas, which was then closely followed by my mother's diagnosis with cancer. She died a month later and I feel very fortunate that my job allowed me to spend so much time with her. Not just my job, really, but my immediate family too. Chris was exactly the support I needed through that time, and I had some very good friends who also propped me up and carried me through it.

One month after my mother's death, one of the members of my staff died suddenly of a stroke. One cannot really appreciate the loss this coworker's death brought to me and the people I work with. She was an extraordinary human being, and I don't say that lightly.

On the heels of that, Chris was furloughed indefinitely, slashing our income by more than half, just as we happened to begin receiving inheritance from my mother. To say that the timing was extremely important devalues how lucky we really are. As Chris looked for work, I learned that the libraries were restructuring. This restructure resulted in an intense interview process in which I was successful and earned a promotion of sorts. This promotion moved me to a new library, but one I am very happy to be a part of. Soon after I learned I got the job, Chris also got a job, and we began to look for a house. The market is good for buying and we figured we would see what was out there.

In July, we found a house in distress and made an offer. We had knowledge of a mold problem in the home, which is not unusual in foreclosures, so we made an offer that was contigent on the mold being remediated. Two months later (one month after the original close date) we have just learned that the mold is absolutely remediated and on top of that, we got a beautiful new bathroom out of the deal. The bank has been very generous in fixing this house to make it safe for my family and we are so grateful to be moving into a beautiful home within two miles of my work and significantly closer to Chris' job as well.

Over the summer, we also battled lice again and this time, the fight was drawn out because of policies at our day care that I was unaware of. Suffice it to say, the lice are gone and I don't expect them to be back. But we are checking regularly now. Not taking any chances.

We should be moving by mid-October, although the process will begin almost as soon as we close on the house. We then need to sell this house and although we have a buffer in place, I am very nervous about selling in this market.

Still, that said, I am giving myself until the end of the year to expect the stress level to be high, and then 2010 needs to go away and never be heard from again. I have no idea if anyone is even really reading blogs anymore with Facebook and so many other venues available to them, but for me, I hope to really return to saving our lives in writing for my children. I now know how much they will value it.

What I Said Today About Mom

Describing mom is no easy task. She is unique. One of a kind. Truly, in a word, indescribable. My husband plays hockey, and at his game this past week, his teammates offered condolences. When he relayed that to me, I asked him if he told them anything about her and he replied quite honestly, “I would have no idea where to start.”

And this is my challenge today. To tell you something about this woman who defies description. To reminisce over a life that was incredibly full, incredibly busy, and incredibly generous.

So when attempting to meet a challenge like this, it’s best to break it into smaller pieces. Maybe I could speak to you about one or two aspects of her life. But what do I pick? Over her life she has accomplished so much and her talents are so numerous, it is difficult to choose one area to talk about. However, anyone who knows her knows that of all the roles she has had – Garden Council President, DAR Regent, Forest Oaks Community Association newsletter editor – (the list is really too huge), the one she valued most… and the one that is dearest to me, is the role she played as “mom.”

As a child, I had no idea how impressive mom’s juggling act was. After all, she was mom, and that’s what moms do, right? So the fact that over the first 18 years of our lives she managed the household, dealt with our school work and associated activites, got us to music lessons, swim team practice, Girl Scout meetings and activities, art lessons, dance lessons, and theater practice while still managing to feed us, get our hair cut, and get us to the doctor and the dentist just seemed effortless to me. Let’s then throw in that during that time she painted hundreds of ceramic pieces, made dozens of beaded Christmas trees, designed, created and furnished over 25 shadow boxes, played tennis regularly, and stayed active in garden clubs and the DAR (among other things), it’s enough to set any reasonable adult’s head spinning. And she did all of this without mobile phones and computers to keep her organized. She kept it all in her head and on a little paper calendar.

But she didn’t just shuffle us from activity to activity either. She took on important roles in our activities. She became a Girl Scout leader despite the fact that she really had never had any previous interest in the Girl Scouts or the activities associated with it. She freely admitted that her idea of roughing it was a Holiday Inn with no room service and a b/w television. But she was a good Girl Scout leader. She was an instant hit with the troop. She didn’t do it only halfway either. We earned dozens of merit badges under her leadership, and I picked up skills and hobbies I carry with me to this day. And she did take us camping. I am not making this up. She forded the stream to get to the campground in her Cadillac DeVille and she wore her mink coat to keep warm.

When I was a younger child, mom would hint at those upcoming “teenage” years. Every now and then, she’d express that fear that I now understand all mothers have… that once their children hit the magic age of 13 (or maybe 12 or 11, realistically), they will suddenly hate their mothers and turn into rebellious little demons. I actually became anxious about my 13^th birthday. What sort of evil monster would I become? Would I get ugly and hunched over? More importantly, would it hurt?

But the weirdest thing happened. I woke up on my thirteenth birthday, and lo and behold, I thought mom was just as cool as I always did. Maybe even a little bit cooler. Other kids could go hate their moms if they wanted (and in fact, some of my friends did choose to go that route.) I, on the other hand, got to bond with my mom during my most emotionally turbulent and physically awkward years. And I wasn’t the only one…

My friends loved my mom too. Even the ones that didn’t like their own moms so much. They loved to hang out at my house and chat with her. They loved to eat her magically amazing grilled cheese sandwiches. They loved to admire her dollhouse and shadow boxes. And they loved to just chat with her. My mom was, dare I say it… HIP! And again, I’m not making this up… one of our neighbors sent me a note this week that said ever since he met her in 1976, he always thought of her and my dad as “hipsters of the day.” Who knew?!

She supported me through every difficult time in my life. Even when I made choices she wasn’t so sure were best for me, she would support me. She would offer me her opinion and advice, of course, but there was never any pressure from her to change my mind or behave differently. She let me learn my own lessons. And to her surprise and delight, once or twice it turned out that I was actually right.

I must say that when I was 27 and I announced to mom and Linda that I was planning to get married, they were shocked. And had good reason to be. After all, up until then, I had not been great at maintaining a meaningful relationship more than a few months, and my intended was a man whom I had known for about two months and had only been dating for about two weeks. I put myself in her shoes and imagine she must have been, for lack of a better word, completely freaking out inside.

But she remained outwardly calm, asked me some questions (including the ever-reasonable, “Can I perhaps MEET this young man?”) and expressed her nervousness over the short courtship. However, by the end of the conversation (and assurances that she COULD meet him, absolutely), she told me that she supported any decision I made and that her main interest is that I should be happy.

She remained cautious and nervous through the whole engagement and wedding planning, although she never really shared that with me. Linda got an earful, as I understand it, but she was sure to always show me strong support and love. It wasn’t until my wedding reception eight months later that mom pulled me aside and said, “I wasn’t sure about this whole thing… it was all terribly fast, but it is clear to me that Chris loves you very much and he is a wonderful match for you.”

And then, over the last ten years, she frequently took his side in any disagreement he and I would have. When I would call her on it, she would say, “What? He is right!”

Now I’m a mom. And I hold myself up to the “mom” standard constantly. When I talk to my children, I am almost always simultaneously thinking “Is this how mom would handle this situation?” She has set the bar very high. But she raised me to get it right.

When my father passed away, I read a passage from a children’s book that spoke quite eloquently about the circle of life and how death works into it. For mom, I felt it more appropriate to simply read you the lines of one of her favorite songs. It was sung at her high school graduation, and it remained special to her throughout her life. I believe it also speaks well about her death:

When you walk through a storm

Hold your head up high

And don’t be afraid of the dark

At the end of the storm is a golden sky

And the sweet silver song of a lark

Walk on through the wind

Walk on through the rain

Tho your dreams be tossed and blown

Walk on walk on with hope in your heart

And you’ll never walk alone

You’ll never walk alone.

It's The Little Things

As I have been sitting by mom's hospital bed these last two weeks, I've been frustrated that while she is still living and breathing and here with me, the morphine has either had her knocked out or unable to work her mouth well enough to speak. My mother is a talker. And a listener. And she's funny. And she's smart.

And I miss that.

Or rather, I missed it. Today, out of the blue, she woke up from a good night's sleep and started talking. Really talking. Full sentences. The works. Of course, I wasn't here... it was my sister's night to be with her and I was at work. But they called me and Linda put Mom on the speaker phone.

I cannot describe the joy I felt in hearing her voice again. Really hearing it. I was truly afraid that I wouldn't get to have another real conversation with her. And although her facial expressions are very communicative, it's not the same.

She's asleep now. She had a really big day and has managed to stay off the PRN morphine all day. A very low dose of extended release morphine has kept her pain under control and her mind sharp. We are hoping it is a positive sign of what is to come.

But tomorrow, once she is rested again, I sincerely hope she talks my ear off. I cannot wait.

A Cure For Writer's Blcok

So I'm in the hospital watching over my mother. Her diagnosis has changed several times over the last 24 hours, and we will have a more definitive answer tomorrow after a biopsy. But it's not looking good. She is very uncomfortable and practically immobile with pain.

The hospital has wifi "for our convenience," but I am finding that most sites I use on a daily basis are blocked. I would not really be updating my Facebook status with the icky and highly personal aspects of her stay here, but I would like to be able to watch my friends live their lives on the outside. I can't clear out my Google reader because half of the blogs I follow are blocked here in the hospital and I can't even finish setting up my Goodreads account because it is also blocked. (Oddly, LibraryThing is NOT blocked here, so if I had just been willing to pay them their blood money, I could be finishing that task up easily).

And so, I blog.

Mom is just shy of turning 68. She has never really been the healthiest person I know... she has been a smoker since the ripe old age of 12 and although she knew they weren't good for her, she has clung to cigarettes as her main vice. Her other is chocolate, and we all know that chocolate is healthy, so I don't begrudge her that at all.

So we knew this day would arrive. All we've been able to do is hope that it isn't too painful and difficult for her. It looks like those hopes will not come true. She is in for a painful ordeal that may or may not yield positive results.

Watching her, I am reminded of all she has been to me and to all of her friends and family. She is loving and stern, funny and truthful, and conservative and generous. She has been a role model and a rock of support to me and has spoiled me in ways I will never be able to spoil my own daughter. She has ensured I live a full, open and happy life and has guaranteed my comfort and safety, even when I didn't really deserve it.

She is being well taken care of here at the hospital, and yet I find it almost impossible to leave her side. I take pleasure in watching her simply breathe and I enjoy joking with her and making her smile. Work, hobbies, and life's mundane tasks have taken a back seat and at this point, I have a hard time even acknowledging they exist. My sister will be here tomorrow from Hong Kong and Mom is very excited to see her again. It has been almost a year since we last saw her, and just the prospect of her showing up lights up my mother's eyes.

And I suddenly understand yet another aspect of motherhood. I see in her what it means to raise children and set them out in the world. I see the joy she takes simply in knowing that her children "are." And I want my children near me now with a passion I have never before felt.

But right now is her time. She needs to have her girls back just as her girls right now. And she shall have that. For she is why and what we "are."

Le Scooter Ne Marche Plus

For the first time ever at Walt Disney World, we rented an ECV. These are those little scooters that you see advertised for older folks who can't get around much on their own anymore. Designed for locomotion and not so much for long term care like wheelchairs, scooters are really nice for people like my mother... over sixty, chronic pain, long-time smoker, poor walker. At first, Mom was just going to try to walk the parks, but before we even started our first full day at Epcot, she admitted she wanted to go ahead and get the scooter.

I'd love to show you a picture of her on it. I have a great one. But mom is not a fan of having her picture taken and asked me not to post it, so there you go. We used the scooter each day, and by our third day, Mom was a pro. Well, except she seemed to think she could use her feet to brake, which really doesn't work so well, and I fussed at her the whole time to keep her feet up so she wouldn't break her ankle. It was a nice role-reversal.

So anyway, back to the third day... the only rain we saw during the daytime on our trip fell on Monday. Fortunately, due to my awesome Disney planning skillz, all three downpours fell in rapid succession during the ninety minutes we were enjoying Croque Monsieurs at Chefs de France in Epcot on Monday. Unfortunately, they didn't have a covered area for mom to stash the scooter, so although we didn't get wet, the scooter did.

We lifted a stack of paper towels from the restaurant, dried it off the best we could, then mom decided to sort of wheel it out of the spot where she had expertly parallel parked. It didn't start. At all. Nothing. nada. *sigh*

Unfortunately, the number printed on the key to call for help is merely an extension. In this day of cell phones, I wonder why they don't just give you a full number, but anyway... we were right there at the restaurant, so we went in and spoke to the manager. Apparently, their phone is not on the WDW system, so the extension meant nothing to her either. However, in true Disney customer service fashion, she began making phone calls to try to figure out who she needed to call.

Fifteen minutes later, she got someone from the International Gateway to come. Ten minutes after that, he actually arrived in a way-cool "tow-scooter" to take the dead carcass away and trade us the shiney new one on the back.

Mom tried to start it with the tow-scooter guy still there. Nothing. Then he said, "Ma'am... it won't start unless you are sitting on it."

We looked at each other. "Oh," we said. "Well, um... then the other one may work after all." No one told us this little rule when we got the scooter. Sure, it makes perfect sense, but, duh... we aren't thinking or anything... we're on vacation.

He was very nice... waved, and let us go on our way with the new scooter... probably returning to the International Gateway to laugh at us with his coworkers.

Something Cool

My brother-in-law (specifically, Chris' sister's husband) writes an occasional storyline for Walt Disney's Comics. One of his stories appears in the March book (No. 690) - ISBN 978-1-60360-025-5. I don't have any permission to scan the panel or the cover art for you, but it's cool enough to tell you about it. He put in a little tribute to Chris' dad, who spent his career managing restaurants... If you happen upon the book (or you own it), check out The Winter of Their Dissed Kismet." One panel about midway through the story features a restaurant called "Caran's Costly Cafe." Nifty!

A Tribute to All Moms, But Mostly My Own*

*The title of this post is an obscure reference for most people indeed. First one to post the correct answer to what it references will get a prize (probably an adult beverage... and I probably know who will guess it.)

So here we are... Mother's Day. I actually don't encourage my family to celebrate Mother's Day, and I would have been at work today if not for the strep (it's official! Woot!) It's another Hallmark Holiday like Valentine's Day, that is set aside for something we should really do all the time. So I say "Bah, Humbug... I love my mom and don't need anyone to force me to say it."

Still, since we're here and having this little chat, I'll go ahead and say it. I think my mom is the shizzle.

Having kids of my own was, like it is for so many people, the turning point for me. I had always appreciated my mother, no doubt. She makes a fabulous grilled cheese sandwich that the neighborhood kids would clambor to our house for. She put up with my A-TI-TUDE when I was pubescent, and she is still very loving and caring and looks out for my best interests... sometimes without me even knowing.

Although we have certainly had our issues, and we still do not agree on politics at all, we have always gotten along. I always respected her opinions, even when she didn't respect mine. But now that I have kids of my own, I have learned a whole new world of information about what her life has been and what she has really done for my sister and me.

I have been blessed with amazing opportunities for travel. Many of those doors were opened by my father and his international company, but they were facilitated by my mother. She made sure I was well-rounded and sought out all sorts of opportunities for me. I'm even glad she forced me to take piano when I was five, even though I thought I had no interest. (I do wish, however, that she had chosen a better teacher).

She is pretty good with a computer, which I KNOW is rare for her generation. She taught herself a lot and has taken a couple of courses. Her biggest strength is probably Maj Jongg, but it's not her only strength. I'll be teaching her a little more about blogging this weekend, as I make my first attempt to post pictures live from Disney World. So, Mom... here is my blog entry about how awesome you are. Thanks for the trip! And thanks for everything. Really. I mean... everything. I love you.

Sibling Rivalry

I'm way past my jealousy of my sister. Way past it. I mean, it doesn't bother me in the least that she once chatted with Bill Murray for about fifteen minutes before a Broadway show once, just because she actually had the nerve to approach him when she spotted him down the row from her.

And I don't even care that she talked to Elizabeth Taylor for quite some time at a Macy's event she was working.

And certainly, it doesn't faze me in the least that she just traveled to Japan on business. I mean, she did send us all some way cool kimonos.

So I am CERTAINLY not jealous that she is turning Times Square into a Buddhist Garden on Thursday as a publicity event for a Japanese Buddhist organization. A stunt that will be on all the major networks' morning shows (tune into your favorite and marvel at her skillz). And besides, who really wants to escort Mira Sorvino to an awards ceremony so she can get some recognition for her peace efforts? Really. I mean, besides my husband, who would have ulterior motives anyway. Who cares?

*uh... am I looking a bit green to you?*

A Family Tradition

On my side of the family, we normally only go to the hospital when we are on vacation. Linda had her appendix out on Christmas day when she was 11. I had the worst UTI in my life while in Canada on tour with my theater group (socialized medicine is awesome) and Linda's husband spent a great deal of time in Moroccan hospitals when they took a long adventure holiday there.

So now Athena joins the fold. If you want all the details in a minute-by-minute account, you can read his blog (if you have the password). But the long and the short of it is this:

Took Athena to the hospital today (day after Thanksgiving) in Santa Rosa, California because of a fever and frequent vomiting. Expected them to give her some pain medicine for her headache, replenish her fluids, and provide an antibiotic for general purposes.

We did get all of the above eventually, but we also had blood drawn, a cat scan, and finally a spinal tap. We were there all day. This is not exactly how I planned our stay in Sonoma.

However, this experience was actually very good overall. Athena got to rest without being pestered by her brother. We discovered some of the best customer service I've ever seen in a hospital setting. And I was reminded of just how beautiful, smart, and wonderful my daughter is. She handled the whole ordeal amazingly well... and I'm not the only one saying that. The staff commented on it as well. She was so charming that the person who was charged with drawing her blood couldn't do it... she stalled until the IV person arrived and had her do it.

Do I want to live this day again? Nope. But Athena is on her way to getting better, she already feels MUCH perkier, and I got to spend a whole day with my sister. Every cloud has a silver lining.

Something Different

Well, I'm still sick. I'm not AS sick... but I had to come home early today. Made it through yesterday with little issue, but today, not so much. This is the most sick time I've taken at once with the exception of my maternity leave.

However, I refuse to continue to talk about my illness. Therefore, I will update you on goings on around here.

Hockey season has started. We lost our first game. As usual. Five years in a row now. That's impressive.

Athena is in Round Three of swim classes. This time, her teacher is a boy. She doesn't seem quite so comfortable with a boy teacher. She didn't even want to go to her second class. Hopefully, when Chris takes her next week, it won't be a problem. After this round, she will be asked if she wants to try something new (dance, music, ice skating) and we'll see what she says.

Disney - The November Trip is planned and I only have one more dinner reservation to make. As many times as I have been there, there are STILL restaurants I haven't tried. And there will still be some once we return from this trip. The place is amazing.

My sister has been emailing me pictures of vacation homes in Sonoma since we will be heading West for Thanksgiving this year, and she cannot accomodate my mom plus our growing brood in her one-bedroom condo. So we're renting a house in Wine Country. All the houses she sent have pools. Heated pools. Fine by me, but we'll have to keep an eye on our water babies... The houses are beautiful, though, and I'm looking forward to seeing her and her husband. Athena is looking forward to getting on an airplane. Marcus hasn't expressed an opinion.

Video at Last!

You may remember my lofty goal to produce a video per day at Disney and try to post them almost nightly. I suppose you at least know how that turned out. We completed exactly zero videos, and there were days we didn't even really take pictures. Plus, our camera broke mid-trip.

The repair to the camera is pretty simple, so we will have it repaired eventually, but part of the curse that goes with having such a great camera (two lenses... one for video, one for photos... all in one camera) is that is is a bit bulky and cumbersome.

Now that still cameras have come such a long way, and memory sticks have grown exponentially in storage space, we are simplifying... and we think we may only use the old repaired video camera when we want a REALLY good quality video. In the meantime, my mom got me a Sony Cyber-Shot for my birthday. Plus a 2G memory stick. The camera is super light and VERY quick on the shutter, which means we get good pics, even when are children are moving at 90mph.

See for yourself! I made a movie tonight from the pictures and video I captured in Roanoke this weekend! Let me know what you think of the quality. And maybe we'll do a movie per night for trip number two!

All By Myself

I had a very quiet weekend. Chris took the kids up to Virginia to see family, and I had to work, which meant I had to stay home. We looked at going other weekends so I could join the fun, but our next free weekend is about two weeks before our Disney trip, and I will be in exit mode. Not to mention, I'd like to avoid long drives just before that SUPER long drive.

I was looking forward to the peace and quiet. I lived by myself for years before I met Chris and I rather enjoyed living alone. However, apparently I have adjusted to life in home with small children, because when the family left Friday night, I found the place eerie and spooky even. It just didn't seem right.

I thought maybe by Saturday I would have adjusted, but I didn't. In fact, my dreams that night were all horrible, violent nightmares... frequently waking me with horrible shivers and spine-tingly feelings. Not fun.

So I was mighty glad to see everybody on Sunday when I returned home from work. I think I like the full house way better than the empty one. Who woulda thunk it?!

More About Jilli

I mentioned that Jilli came to visit us about a month ago. Jilli is Chris' Uncle Rick's dog. (Follow that? If not, think of it this way... Chris and Jilli are cousins.) Jilli has also done something that I have only dreamed of. She has become a star.

Recently, she did an Internet game for a large veterenary medicine company. Here's the link. You can type in standard doggie commands and she will do them.

After you have tried a few basics, I recommend trying "Jump," "Dance," and "Achoo!"

Too cute!

Musical Geniuses and Me

Okay, tell me if this happens to you. You are moving along perfectly well in life... being successful at work, having The World's Cutest Babies (TM) and hanging out with good friends. Then, suddenly, you are reminded that you once had potential in something or other, but you wasted it because you were young and stupid. Not following? Let me give you an example... (you knew I would)...

Today, I traveled to Greensboro to see the final student concert of the Eastern Music Festival. This is a month-long camp for kids 13-21 (shoot me now, folks... I just referred to a 21-year-old as a kid. Oy vey!) where they study orchestral music (playing it) in intense workshops and performance settings. These kids are headed for conservatories world wide including Julliard and others of that ilk. Growing up in Greensboro, we always knew about EMF, but we never attended a concert. My dad always said he wanted to, but we never got around to it.

But I've gone the last three years because my first cousin once removed (that would be my cousin's daughter) is a violinist and has been selected to participate all three summers. (Incidentally, she calls me Aunt Elizabeth because it's easier than explaining the family tree to everyone she introduces me to. It's kind of cool being called "Aunt." I'll just refer to her as a cousin from here on out.) The past two years, I've only seen faculty concerts... one featuring Andre Watts and one featuring a very famous violinist who I absolutely cannot remember now. But this year, I went for the final student concert. And oh, my... it was excellent.

They performed Bernstein's West Side Story Symphonic Dances and they also did Pictures at an Exhibition. Even if you don't like classical music... you've heard these. And they were simply outstanding. My cousin earned an award for most improved. She's 17 and she was 13 when she arrived at her first EMF festival. THIRTEEN.

So this got me thinking about my own music career. I went to Kindermusik before I started school. I LOVED those classes. Then, at my mother's whim, I started piano at five. It was okay, but my teacher was crazy. Although I wanted to learn more and more, she continued to stifle me until she finally told my mother not to let me play Beethoven so that I wouldn't pick up any bad habits (i.e., it was too advanced for me). This is despite the fact that I was, at that moment, playing Fur Elise... and quite well, I might add. Rather than go back to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star (not that I have anything against Mozart), I quit. I was seven.

Soon after that, a woman came into our third grade classroom to give us a music aptitude test. She was recruiting kids to take violin lessons through the public school system (a new program for us). I passed the test and was offered the chance to enroll in the enrichment class, which was to be offered once a week during the school day. I was so excited and begged my parents to let me do it. After all, one of my cousins was in high school in Charlotte, and she was playing violin in youth orchestras and was probably going to major in music in college... so it was in my blood.

In the fall, I started lessons and I was getting more and more confident. Then, at Christmas, my father was talking to said cousin and when I was about to play a duet with her, he made a crack about the level of difficulty. I think he intended to praise her, but inadvertently stung me with his words. I never told him about that, incidentally.

Anyway, that broke my spirit, and I gradually convinced myself I'd never be very good at violin. However, I remained hopeful and stuck with it for three years.

At the end of sixth grade, Miss Keller (our violin teacher) asked us who was interested in switching to viola or cello in the Junior High next year, as she wanted to start a string orchestra. Not only did I NOT raise my hand, but after class, I approached her and asked her NOT to ask me to switch, as I really liked the violin and wanted to focus on it.

Did she respect my wishes? Of course not. I was just a stupid ten-year-old, after all... so she called my mother and asked her to "talk to me" about switching to viola. She felt I was so good at reading music that I could adjust to the unusual clef (violas use the alto clef) and she also thought that since I was so tall and broad-shouldered, the viola would fit my body better. My mother was so excited because the viola has a deeper, richer sound which appealed to her. I suppose she didn't really want to hear me squeaking out notes on that E string anymore.

So, in seventh grade, I was holding yet another new instrument. I did well with it though, and found I did like the sound a bit more, but tired of the fact that all I ever played was harmony.... lots and lots of boring long notes. *yawn*

In eighth grade, at the behest of my private viola teacher (I had to supplement my school class because I had some catching up to do with all those violinists who had been studying for three years) I auditioned for the Greensboro Youth Orchestra. I had a horrible audition. The director even asked "You're playing WHAT?!" because I chose an easy-listening standard of the seventies rather than a classical piece. But I guess Ms. Linnell (said private teacher) pulled some strings, because not only was I invited to join, but I got 10th chair (out of 12). They really should have sat me behind the trombones.

So I did that for two years. The only thing I liked about it was the director. I had a mad crush on him. I never practiced... and I faked my way through every performance. I can't believe I wasn't kicked out. But that crush kept me coming to every freaking rehearsal... Sunday afternoons, week after week.

After ninth grade, I gave it up. I had bigger fish to fry. I wanted to learn to parle francais, and I also wanted to really get into theater... so I did. I took up singing for my musical focus and auditioned for lots of musicals. I got in a lot too...

When I was in college, I decided that boning up on piano would help me be a better singer and it would be fun. So over a summer break at home, I picked up some sheet music at Mom's house and started sight reading Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring. For a first attempt, it wasn't half bad. But it was my mom's favorite song, and she came in to tell me how horrible I sounded. She had no idea how much that hurt my feelings, but I vowed to never play an instrument in front of people again.

So I give you this story because today, I looked at my cousin and realized how much music is probably seething down inside me that I just never allowed to surface through bad circumstance and boredom. This cousin I saw play today... her mom (my actual first cousin) is a pianist. I already mentioned the other cousin who played violin. Then their mother (my aunt) is a dramatic soprano and has sung roles like Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady and Miss Jones in How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, not to mention countless operas.

I couldn't help but feel that I have gone through my entire life without really exploring what might be my strongest talent. The proof was there. I didn't try, yet it came quite naturally to me. Makes you wonder how things might have been different, doesn't it?

Family Portrait

From Left to Right: "Aunt" Judy, Mommy Librarian, Jilli, Marcus, Athena (and her camera face), and Chris. Uncle Rick was behind the camera. 

Marcus, Jilli Dog, Toys, and Feet

 

Jilli, The World's Cutest Superstar

Jilli, pictured above, is perhaps the most famous member of our family. Her "people" are Chris' Uncle Rick and his girlfriend Judy. Jilli has been on several major networks, on stage, and will soon be the star of an internet game! I'm not normally a fan of the Yorkie, but Jilli is special. She does some really great tricks. Check out her mad poker skillz on her website. Here, she poses for Rick's camera while lounging in Athena's armchair.

Athena got the chance to give her a treat. We have discussed before how much Athena loves animals... but here are two pictures that really prove it... 

Before...

 

And After...