A Shiver Up My Spine (Not the Good Kind)

Winter is making its second grand entrance in less than a week here along the Lake Erie shore. It's been snowing for at least 24 hours straight, with a nasty wind averaging at least 35 mph. The wind has a good side: it blows the snow off our driveway as fast as it can fall, so I haven't had to do any shoveling. However, the downside is that the wind chill factor is about -11 F. Though our house is fairly new and holds heat well, that wind just seemed to penetrate its icy fingers right through our walls earlier today.

Throughout the morning, as I was reviewing my notes for my Financial Management final, the room seemed to be getting colder and colder. I was already wearing my L. L. Bean fleece pj's, which are usually toasty enough to be more than adequate when I bump the heat up to 66, as I often do when I'm home during the day. But my hands were icy and I couldn't feel my toes even with socks on.

So I put on my heavy robe over the pj's and a second layer of socks before I took the exam. Gotta love those online classes on a day like this! After acing the exam (yes!) and farting around on my favorite websites for a while, I thought, hey, I'll do a cardio workout--that ought to warm me up. I opened the bedroom door to get my workout wear and was practically bowled over by the crypt-like draft blasting out of there. The thermometer said 52 degrees! It's always freezing in there during the winter, especially on windy days, but this was lower than I'd ever seen it.

I went downstairs to check the thermostat: 60 degrees. That's funny, I thought. It seems like the furnace isn't even on. I went down to the utility room, and sure enough, it was eerily quiet. My mind flashed back to a time in the summer when the air conditioning seemed to be malfunctioning, and wouldn't respond no matter what we did. It turned out that Mouchie the cat had bumped the master switch to the "off" position hours before. (I really wonder who thought it was a good idea to install it 2 feet above the floor level.)

Today, the switch was in its usual "up" position, but I thought, maybe turning it off and on will "reboot" the furnace. I did that, and, dramatically, the furnace roared to life, followed by the fan. I had fixed it! That's a little weird, but whatever. And then, exactly 15 minutes later, it stopped. All afternoon, I kept running down there to reboot it, which brought the house to an anemic 61 degrees. I had the gas fireplace on for about 7 hours, which at least kept the family room warm, but I knew something was seriously wrong. The bedroom was now down to a bone-chilling 45 degrees! How on earth were we going to sleep tonight?

When Paul got home, we looked up furnace troubleshooting tips online. We looked up the phone number of the heating and cooling company that does our maintenance in case we had to call them tomorrow. He went outside into the arctic blast with a flashlight to see if the outside vent was coated in ice or something--nope. It just kept getting colder and colder. We started retreating into ourselves like turtles. Well, I did, anyway.

Paul finally started checking the tubes that vented water from the humidifier, after jostling one around, water just started gushing from it, as if it had been pent up in a reservoir. It had been pinched near the bottom, leaving the water nowhere to go. After one false cycle, the furnace has been functioning normally for an hour and a half now. I think (hope) he solved the problem.

Here's what we think happened. Although Mouchie hadn't flipped the master switch this time, the chain of events that led up to this is still his fault. About 3 weeks ago, when I was eating my lunch at home, I heard a huge crashing noise, followed by the pinging of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of tiny pebble-like objects. Something was clearly amiss down in the utility room.

As I came down the stairs, the overpowering smell of dry catfood overwhelmed me. Mouchie, hiding behind the couch in full freak-out mode, shot up the stairs as soon as he saw me. I had a few choice words upon entering the room. He had knocked over a newly-opened 15-pound bag of dry cat food from the top shelf. It weighed more than he did--don't ask me how he had the strength--and absolutely exploded upon impact dumping little pellets of cat food everywhere. And I mean everywhere. All over the top of the washing machine and dryer. behind them. Inside them, even though their doors weren't open. On top of (and in) the litter box. (Guess I should be thankful it had a cover over it.) In every dust-bunny- and cobweb-infested nook and cranny in the entire room. Including, of course, all of the nooks and crannies of the furnace and its myriad pipes and tubes.

I was on my hands and knees for at least a half and hour with the hand broom and dustpan getting it all. We had had ants before (who love dry cat food), so I made an effort to get every last kibble. It was like hunting for cockroaches; you see one, you know there are 10,000 more just out of plain sight. Honestly, that's what I was thinking when I pulled the flimsy little white pipes aside only to see at least 200+ kibbles way under there. I had to get them all! As you can imagine, I was kind of pissed at this point, and I took it out on those poor pipes, shoving their ends back in their little hole none too carefully.

Fast forward to today, the first day it was cold enough for the furnace to be on continuously for hours and hours at a time. The water from the humidifier just couldn't drain fast enough, and when its reservoir stayed full, it automatically shut off the furnace. Now that it can drain, problem solved. It sure is a relief that we (and our pipes!) won't freeze overnight, and that we are spared the ordeal of an emergency service call on a day that I'm sure plenty of others would be ahead of us in line.

Almost Busted

Last night on my way home from class, I stopped for gas at a very well-lighted Shell station right before the freeway entrance. Toodling along on I-71, listening to a mix CD, I noticed the traffic slowing as we approached the municipality of Linndale. Linndale is a tiny community, encompassing only a few hundred yards of the freeway, and is universally known as a notorious speed trap. The general impression is that nailing speeders is their primary means of municipal income. There is almost always a cop car lurking on the far left shoulder under the overpass, just waiting for the opportunity to score.

The speed limit on that part of the freeway is 60. I saw the cop car and checked my perfectly illuminated speedometer display. It read about 58 mph. All was well with the world. No one around me was speeding, either.

After passing the bridge, I glanced up at my rear-view mirror. I saw that the cop had started his flashing lights. I figured that this was a don't-mess-with-me display, not unlike that of a cobra flaring its hood or a dog baring its fangs, just to warn people to slow down. But then he started moving, with the lights. I wondered who he was after. Usually, they don't bother unless someone is going recklessly fast, weaving in and out, etc., and I didn't see anyone around me who wasn't on their best driving behavior.

Pretty soon, I saw the lights in the lane right behind me, and realized he was after me. I pulled over, having no idea what I'd done. My heart started pounding. What on earth did I do? The thought of a moving violation jacking our insurance rates through the roof gave me a sinking feeling. A young cop got out, came up to me, and asked for my driver's license and proof of insurance. And then asked me if I realized I had been driving without my lights on!

I had no idea. Obviously, I had turned them off when I stopped for gas and never remembered to turn them back on. The streetlights lit the road so brightly, I couldn't even tell the difference. He spent several minutes in the cop car, presumably writing me up. Ugh, what a stupid brain fart. And for that, I would probably have to pay a ticket (a day's pay or so) and then eventually an extra week's pay on next year's insurance premium. This suuucks!

After making me sweat for a few interminable minutes, he came back to my window to hand me back my documents. I said I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed about the lights. He asked, "You didn't notice that your dashboard display was dark?" I showed him that the dashboard is fully lit whether the lights are on or off, and I really had no idea. He then said, "Well, remember to drive with your lights on from now on."

Sweet--I got off with a warning, and no ticket! That hasn't happened to me for 15-20 years. I guess that means my feminine charms are still good enough to get me out of a jam. More likely, I reminded him of his mom. :-)

Night Out (the Having-A-Life Part of My Weekend)

Last night, Paul & I went to see Verb Ballets at the new Breen Center for the Performing Arts in Tremont, a whopping 12-minute drive from home. It's a beautiful facility for dance--just a few hundred seats, all with good sight-lines and an excellent sound system. Saw lots of people from the Cleveland area dance community. It was a one-night engagement, so everyone who wanted to come was there the same night. Highlights:

• The opener, "Cleveland Flats Symphony," had stunningly bright and sharp video images of architecture and scenery from the Cleveland flats projected on the backdrop. The dance seemed almost like an accompaniment to the video, the choreography echoing its images. One I liked: a dancer doing the backstroke across the stage as river paddle-boats floated by across the screen.
• "Reflections of...'" a new duet by the Greene/Medcalf Project (Terence Greene and Michael Medcalf, both of whom have taught classes I've played for over the years). Terence's choreography is to movement what melisma is to a melody. It was nice to talk to both of them after the show.
• After intermission, under the pretense that she had won a Verb t-shirt in a raffle, a young lady was called up to the stage where her sweetheart presented her with a red rose bouquet. He asked the audience to sing "Happy Birthday" to her, which we did, in the keys of D major and F# Major simultaneously ("Happy Birthday" arranged by Charles Ives). He then proposed to her on stage, much to the delight of the audience (lots of shrieking and standing ovations). Good thing she said yes!
• The final piece was "The Myth and The Madness of Edgar Allen Poe." Schubert and Bizet were mixed in with eerie, diabolical- and and dramatic-sounding music to accompany this narrative of Poe's descent into madness as all of his loved ones die before their time, one after another. Lots of black ravens carrying them off into the next world and dancing menacingly. It made me think about how nasty, brutish, and short life (and death) were back then, when most people died of acute diseases and infections around age 36.
• Afterwards, we went out for dinner at the Flying Fig (first time for us) with Brad and Elaine and Brad's mom, Grace, who we know from the CWRU Dance Department. Great food and great conversation--we talked a lot about the tension between science and religion in this country, and about the book about the changing nature of death that Paul and I read last month. Next thing we knew, it was after midnight and we were closing down the restaurant!

I've got four (count 'em) nights playing at Stages Restaurant this month, starting tonight, after a five-month hiatus. I'm a second-stringer there, and usually get called about once a month when one of the regular pianists gets another gig that pays more. One of them John Parkinson, is convalescing after having a heart attack and won't be up to it for a while. I wish him a full recovery. Meanwhile, I'll enjoy the windfall of extra paid work.

Of course, this also means my having-a-life nights will probably not take up a whole evening again for a while. After the gig tonight, we could have gone to a party, a wine tasting, or out dancing, but I'll be cracking the books for school until the wee hours instead.

This Is My Brain in The Zone

Today, one of my Facebook friends set up a group called "Tapping Our Creative Energies," with the aim of exploring and sharing our insights and experiences about being "in the zone" where creative inspirations happen. This is a great topic, as I've arranged my life so that I can have creative experiences every day. It's the only way I can consistently enter the Zone, where I can feel fully present in the moment for more than a couple of seconds at a time.

I posted this as the first discussion.

Ever since I can remember, I've always associated specific colors with pitches (A is red, D is green, etc.). It's not as vivid as it was when I was a child, but whenever I play a piece of music, I see in my mind's eye a combination of colors, shapes, images,and musical notation.

The colors are always coordinated with the tonality of what I'm playing, and the shade changes depending on the harmonic context. For example, D major is a bright, primary green, while D minor is is more pine or sage green, and a D in a diminished chord would be more olive. It's a sort of visual shorthand.

When I'm playing for a modern dance class, where I have to make up everything on the spot, sometimes I'll look at what color someone is wearing to help me pick a key. I'll see a shape or sculpture that reflects the meter(s), structure, or accents of the exercise--for example, if it's in 7, is it 2-2-3, 2-3-2, or 3-2-2? If it's the first one, I'll see two squares and a triangle--then all I have to do is "color in" the picture with notes, and not get bogged down in concentrating on each individual count.

These "little" patterns become parts of bigger structural elements. Say there are 9 7's. I'll maybe divide it up into 3 sets of 3 7's. Or the overall pattern might be 4+5. Whatever it is, that's what I'll use to phrase it.

I use this same process when playing things I did not make up. Memorizing just sort of happens automatically, unless I haven't spent much time on it.

If I didn't see these visuals, playing/composing music wouldn't be half as fun or interesting. How about you? Anybody else have sensory overlap experiences during the creative process?

Treasurer

My church has been soliciting the congregation to fill the position of Treasurer for several months now. This is the first time in my memory that no one on the Board of Trustees stepped up for it. Every week, there has been an (increasingly desperate) announcement that we need a volunteer for this position, that no experience is necessary, that Steve (our outgoing treasurer) will walk you through the first month or so.

I knew about this position back in June, when Steve's 2-year term was supposed to end. All summer I have been thinking about it. My first reaction was that it would be too much for me to take on, with two hard classes plus additional music work this fall.

But last week, I was talking to Paul about whether I should take on the volunteer tax clinic for a second year, which would entail taking the training class again (6 Saturdays in the fall, 4.5 hours per class) and doing people's taxes for 10 Saturdays (5 hours a day) in the spring. Would it really add that much to a resumé to say that I did it for two seasons instead of one? Or would it be better to get some experience with some bookkeeping-related work, since that's what I hope to do with this degree?

Internships are hard to come by in Cleveland, in this economy. Finding a part-time one that I can work into my strange schedule during the school year seemed well nigh impossible. As we were talking about it, I realized: here is a chance to get some experience that can work around my schedule! Here's a description of the Treasurer's responsibilities from the Beacon (monthly newsletter):

The Board is seeking a Member to fill the position of Treasurer. This is a 2-year position to begin as soon as possible.

The Treasurer tasks include:

• Receiving and processing donations, pledges, offering and other income
• Working with the Bookkeeper to compile monthly reports
• Attend Board meeting to present monthly reports
• Maintain Account of Finances
• Submit Fiscal Year End Report
• Pledge Receipts Reporting to Individual Members

This work is done with the assistance of the Society’s Bookkeeper and Office Administrator. Steve Doell the previous Treasurer will work with the new Treasurer to provide guidance and assistance during the first month to help the volunteer to become familiar with the tasks and duties of the position.

It's almost like the universe was saving this opportunity for me to take on, as no one else has expressed any interest in it for the past 3 months.

The Living End (Reflections)

I just devoured a book called The Living End, by Guy Brown. It was a well-written account of how the circumstances of death have changed drastically in the past 100 or so years. In the old days, something like 40% of humanity never made it to their 5th birthday. Life expectancy was still low even for those who made it past 5--they were most likely to die in their 30s or 40s from acute causes like infectious disease, famine, violence, complications from childbirth, etc.

Nowadays, in an age of good sanitation and antibiotics, people live a lot longer but tend to die of chronic conditions like heart disease, cancer, respiratory disease, and dementia, often after at least a decade of poor health. Even fatal heart attacks have become less common (when you think about it, that would be a good way to go--it's quick). Now, instead, people live with congestive heart failure, or a fragile, jerry-rigged heart, kept going by technology and drugs.

The first third or so of the book, as you might imagine, was a bit of a downer. There is no evidence, he says, that a good diet, exercise, supplements, etc. slow down our aging rate at all. Yeah, you'll be healthier, but a 65-year-old in 2010 is just as physically aged as a 65-year-old in 1510. So all of this increase in life expectancy isn't front-loaded onto youth; it just adds years onto the end, when you're less functional.

The cool part of the book was the discussion about how death has changed from a "digital" (1 you're fully alive, 0 you're fully dead, with no gray in-between) to an "analog" event (more like a dimmer switch). From the book:

The digital theory of death is dying. We can no longer think of ourselves as suddenly going from being fully alive (1) to fully dead (0). In the same way we have accepted that we do not jump from being non-existent (0) to fully alive (1) at birth. Becoming a full human being is a process. We grow into it over a period of years and decades, but then we grow out of it. That does not mean that aging is growing up in reverse. They are obviously completely different processes: an extremely old person is not the same mentally or physically as a new-born baby. But growing up and growing old could be thought of as growing into and growing out of life. This would give us an analogue theory of life and death: there is a continuum between life and death. Life is not all-or-nothing, there are degrees of life; at some times in our life we are more alive than at other times. We’d all agree that at some times of the day (or night) we are more alive than others. But to assert that some people are more alive than others is a political bombshell. However, whether we like or not, the future reality where the majority of us die demented or cognitively impaired will force new concepts of life and death upon us.

Later in the book, he applies this analog theory to the concept of self. Our cells, organs, etc. are constantly dying off and being regenerated over a lifetime, like a wave that is made up of different water molecules as it advances. In our culture, we've always thought of the "self" as a kind of unchanging spiritual essence that stays constant throughout life and survives in eternity in some sort of afterlife. His theory suggests that the self is just as fluid and ever-changing as the body or the degree of being alive.

All of the memories of every experience we've ever had affects the chemistry of our brains, wiring them differently for each individual. Neurons die or get pruned constantly--there's no way we could remember everything that's ever happened to us. The very act of calling up a memory changes the neural pathway where it's stored. The life experiences/memories that make you unique are therefore constantly changing--it's just usually so gradual you don't notice it.

Are you really the same self at 80 as you were as a baby? This makes sense to me, but seeing it spelled out like that made me sort of uncomfortable. The "self" is such a big deal in our culture. Paul has read the book too, and we're trying to figure out what actually constitutes the "self."

Back After 2 Years!

During this last few days before school starts again, I just read everything I've ever posted on this blog. It was very entertaining, and reminded me of some of the things going on in my life that I would have forgotten otherwise. Haven't posted here in forever. Tried to sign in here a couple of nights ago and found myself locked out, but somehow managed to get in today.

I've been using Facebook since May 2008 for connecting and keeping up with friends and family. It has many advantages--I'm more likely to post something when it has to be under 450 characters or so--but once it scrolls off the page, it eventually disappears. Now that I know I can include anything I post here as a link there, I may use this to post things going on here that are longer than a status update.

Here's what's up in my life right now:

• School: 3 years down, 1 year left to go for my Associates in Accounting. Only 3 classes left,at least 2 of which will be very hard. I've kept up a 4.0 GPA all this time. Lots of nights at the computer until 2:30 a.m., spending 12+ hours per week on each 4 credit-hour class. Other than school breaks, I've had many months with virtually no life at all. It's nice to see the light at the end of the tunnel!
• Work: still at CWRU, Windsong, and the UU Society. This summer, I started working for Cleveland City Dance. I really enjoy the atmosphere there. I'm just so happy to be back at a ballet school again. I'll be back there after Labor Day, maybe as much as 3 days/week, depending on enrollment. That's as much as I had the year before last at Gladisa's, before I lost that job.
• Home: Paul and I just celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary. I never know what we're going to talk about at the dinner table, just that it will be interesting. Last night, we talked about the mole measurement in chemistry, the history of the periodical table, stupid right-wing beliefs, and Eastern vs. Western ideas of the nature of the self.
• My gradual slide into lax eating behavior over the past 1-1/2 years. I got so sick of anal-retentively logging all of my food and activity. Thank God for Lycra in all my clothes is all I'm going to say. Ugh, though. I look a little "round" in recent photos. I'm gonna have to lose this and get back on the wagon, but I'm not quite ready to do what it takes. I think I've gained back about 15 pounds (not that I would know for sure, not having stepped on a scale for weeks).

Well, I'm off to a meeting at the UU to plan the choir schedule and discuss other choir-related concerns before rehearsals start up again this Sunday. I have really enjoyed the summer break from choir. I am kind of burned-out, as I come for the rehearsals on a volunteer basis, which doesn't feel optional. I have feedback I want to share about time management of rehearsals, picking of music that's appropriate for the limited skill level of the choir, etc. I don't want to sound like I'm just bitching and complaining, so I'll have to think of a constructive way to frame it.