Birthday Party Cookout

We spent today at Bruce's 1st birthday party (Bev & Fred's). There must have been 30-40 people there. Fortunately, the weather stayed gorgeous. Bruce napped during the mid-afternoon (that would explain the partially-devoured birthday cake while we were singing Happy Birthday in the pic above). There were huge amounts of food which we ate constantly for at least 2-3 hours, lots of conversations, and several cute kids under the age of six, none of whom we were responsible for. ;-)

Fred poured a celebratory bottle of Jagermeister into little shot glasses, encouraging me to try it. I've heard of it, but had no idea what it was. Everyone else was chugging theirs and it didn't take me long to figure out why. It tasted mostly like Robitussin cough medicine, with anise and prune flavorings for good measure. Kinda nasty, but even the 1/4 inch or so I consumed gave me a buzz. Paul didn't like it either. One of Fred's friends generously offered to take it off my hands. All in all, a great day.

I've updated karint.com with new pix (see link in 5/28 entry).

Spring Performance

I just performed with Cleveland School of Dance at the Allen Theatre tonight. We were awesome, as usual! (I took a buttload of pics in the studio last Wednesday, just posted at karint.com.)

Paul is at his 25th reunion at Oberlin, so for the first time, didn't get to come to the performance. Whenever he's out of town, I always sleep pretty badly the first night. I couldn't sleep until at least 2 am last night and couldn't sleep past 8 this morning. I wasn't feeling blue or anything, I'm just so used to having him there and hearing his breathing. I should have been feeling draggy all day, but of course wasn't because of the performance buzz--no caffeine necessary.

During the lunch break after warmup class I thought I'd run my pieces on the piano in the theatre. What a rude awakening--it was so out of tune it sounded like one of those church basement pianos little kids are constantly pounding on, or a honky-tonk piano at a bar. Funky! (And not in a good way--more like moldy-leftovers-funky.) And I am pretty used to out of tune pianos. Yeah, it was bad. But I didn't mention it to Gladisa, figuring 1) She had enough to stress about already and 2) When Lawrence came later, he would surely tune it himself, as he has previous years.

When he did come and play it a little bit, he was livid, yelling at all the tech people, "If I were Karin or Larissa, I would refuse to play this piano! How can you not think to check this before now?" and etc. He was especially pissed because he had left his tuning equipment at home, not thinking he would have to use it. (Truthfully, of course I wouldn't have refused to play--I'm not much of a diva.) So he left and came back with the equipment, still fuming. We ended the tech/dress rehearsal an hour early so he would have time to tune it.

I love performance days. There's a lot of downtime, spent mostly chatting with colleagues and some of the moms, eating, reading Newsweek, and visiting various dressing rooms because some of the girls wanted to take a picture with me. You can feel the adrenaline in the air. I took a long, leisurely time to change into my black performance glamour outfit and add a little more makeup.

I spent the whole performance in the stage right wing, watching the other dances from the side view in the glare of the stage lights, feeling so relaxed I was even yawning, doing finger exercises to warm up since both of my pieces were fast and difficult from the get-go. I only felt the adrenaline when actually on stage, just enough to feel a little fluttery with my hands a little sweaty. Fortunately, my focus has improved enough to keep this from causing me to make noticeable mistakes. Maybe someday I'll be able to let go of self-conciousness enough to really get in a "flow state" on stage, but it only happens a few seconds at a time. At least I can see the colors, which gives me something to grab onto.

Larissa and I both played well (on a beautifully tuned piano), and the dancers looked great and like they were having fun. Afterwards there was much hugging, graduating seniors crying, parents and friends congratulating. I went to find Lawrence to tell him how much I appreciate his hard work on our behalf. I just love performing, but I'm also glad it's over so I can take it a little easy for a while.

Articulating my UU Faith

The Faith Articulation Covenant Group that I'm in is leading the service at church tomorrow, and I am one of the people who will talk about my faith for a couple of minutes. It's always been sort of nebulous for me (that's why I joined the group!) so the assignment was a little daunting, but I've finally written it out. Here's what I'm going to say, and afterwards I'll play a piece of music that means a lot to me.

Articulating My UU Faith

I didn't grow up Unitarian Universalist. When I was a child, my family were active members of the Episcopal, then the Lutheran church. We would follow a liturgy, reciting our prayers, creed, and confession of sin from the book. There were Bible readings and communion with homemade bread and real wine. My favorite parts of the service were the Passing of the Peace, a time to greet your neighbor that involved lots of hand-shaking and hugging, and of course, the music. By 5th grade I was singing alto in the adult choir and in the Folk Group. I always felt enriched by the community aspects of church; the fellowship hour, the church camps, the church musicals, the early morning trips to the birthday girl or boy's home where we would serenade them and throw fresh flowers on their bed.

My parents always encouraged us to think and ask questions about anything, including religion. As I became an adolescent, everthing in life seemed to be about hating being told what to do or losing the Power Game in any way. The idea of humility before God seemed so off-putting to me. The prayers we recited didn't make me feel connected to anything, they were just the same words we repeated over and over every week. The 2000-year-old, Middle Eastern, agrarian frame of reference just had no relevance to my life.

Our whole family dropped out when I was about 17, and for the next 15 years the only time I went to church I was getting paid to play the piano. I spent a lot of time out in nature, at the piano, or nurturing a relationship. Sometimes I would have brief moments of feeling fully present and connected to the universe doing these things. But I still felt kind of isolated and missed that sense of community I got from church as a kid. I felt really at home here when I joined this church. Here was a place I could have real conversations and feel part of a group of like-minded people.

For me, my spiritual path is something that grows organically from my experience, as opposed to an external creed or ritual. Nature, love and especially music are my ways of being connected to the universe. Ask me to pray or meditate and I'm not very good at it, but sit me down at a piano and I can reach that "flow state" right away.

Why is This so Funny?

So many things make me laugh. Satire, irony, absurdity, situations, even a good word play. But the kind of thing that gets me laughing until my abs hurt and I've cried off all my eye makeup? More often than not, it tends to good ol' bodily functions. The first time I saw
Farting Preacher Two * with Darcy and Paul, the three of us were howling.

Usually I'm the one laughing until I'm crying, and Paul is laughing more at me than at the farts, poop, barf, etc that set me off. But this time, he actually had to leave the room because his stomach was hurting and he was crying. I have never seen him laugh so hard, which of course set Darcy and me off even more.

The artist who edited this video is a comedic genius. The preacher often pauses and makes funny faces, gestures, etc, providing perfect opportunities for "sound effects." He'll say things like, "I feel something billowing and bellowing out of me," "that was prophetic," "Jesus spoke that through me," "I was meditating," etc., all of which add to the hillarity. As Paul says, "He thinks it's the Holy Spirit, but really it's just farts."

So we may think we're spiritual beings on a different plane from all other animals, but sooner or later some bodily function will bring us down to earth at a most inappropriate time. See, potty humor can be profound!

Here are some more pages, for your enjoyment, that caused me many a belly laugh and nose blowing:

Doodieman
How to poop at work

* There are also Farting Preacher One, Three and Four, but Two is our sentimental favorite. In fact, we watch it periodically for a good laugh at bedtime. Our euphemism collection has been considerably enriched. "Hello!"

Lilacs

I love the scent of lilacs. It reminds me of a May afternoon when I was 17. My boyfriend, who lived on the other side of town and had no car, took 2 buses to bring me a bouquet of lilacs he had picked.

First Gospel Rehearsal

Sunday was my first rehearsal with the Archwood UCC Gospel Choir. (See Audition or Party Game? post.) There were about 5 or 6 really nice people who made up the choir. Andrew, the director, was under the mistaken impression that our first song, "Soon and Very Soon," was in the hymnal. Nope. Did I already know it/ever hear it before in my life? Nope. Luckily, he had the CD and boombox handy. It was pretty easy to learn, although in the key of F# (or Gb) major. No matter how you slice it, that's 6 accidentals in the key signature. Why oh why are none of the songs on this CD in normal keys?! Not that it matters, since obviously I don't have to read any music anyway. Andrew kept stopping and starting the CD as I was rapidly trying to write down chord symbols.

I finally asked him to just let it play through once so I could write down the structure of the song (verses, bridge, etc.) Now he wants me to play the parts. I hadn't been listening for that, so I just made them up. He seems to be sort of disorganized, with the emphasis on fun/spirit over precision. Now that I know that, I can just relax and not stress if a rehearsal doesn't seem that productive. I'm not the director, so it's not my place to fill any vaccuum of leadership I might see.

Evidently they had tried starting the Gospel Choir with the regular pianist at the church, Dorothea, who had a hard time learning the music by ear. So here I am, little Miss Classically-Trained-and-Everything-Else-I've-Learned-is-a-Second-Language-White-Girl-Faking-Gospel, and she's the Black lady! :-D

Sucky work schedules

We were planning to see Verlezza Dance do their spring concert at Tri-C East tonight. The problem was, it started at 8 pm and I didn't get out of work until 7:30, thanks to an extra rehearsal for the spring performance. I almost bought our tickets in advance, but decided not to in case the rehearsal ran late/I felt like the Bitch From Hell due to lack of dinner, etc. In any case, Paul would have had to meet me up at work--we would have had to gun it and maybe been late anyway.

Well, it turned out that he got stuck working late due to a malfunctioning machine and didn't get home until almost 8:00.
:( BOO!

Silver lining #1: thanks to my caution, we're not out the money.
Silver lining #2: I guess we'll "settle" for going out to Mi Pueblo for dinner instead.

Socks

It's funny, the articles of clothing that I most take for granted, socks, can put me in the worst mood when they're worn out/uncomfortable/falling down. I hate shopping for these things--they're utilitarian, (almost) no one sees them, and good ones are expensive. But I finally bit the bullet last week when I put on a favorite pair of socks and could feel the bare kitchen floor right through them. Lo and behold, there were 1" in diameter holes in the bottom of each one. That's it--off to Target I go.

I figured it would be easy to find a few pairs that complement my khakis and blue jeans, pairs that were soft and had extra padding on the bottoms. But I guess now that it's spring, they figure everyone wants to wear these thin little things in pastel colors that are shaped like a tube (no built-in heel). Don't most people walk any distance at all? I could just see them, migrating down into my shoes, causing a lovely blister-inducing crease on the bottoms of both feet in less than 5 minutes.

I finally found the "active wear" sock selections, where the socks have contoured heels, extra padding on the parts where shoes are most likely to rub, and moisture-wicking material. Now we're talking! But I had only 2 "color" choices--white and black. I guess they figure if you buy these, you only use them to work out in, so why should you care what they look like? I bought several pairs of black ones. Black goes with everything, and, I've decided, looks much better than a color that clashes oh-so-slightly with one's outfit.

I've been wearing them every day. I love how they hug my feet and how I never have to yank them up through the day.

I'll put a real post up tomorrow

I was doing so well writing something every day. I got slammed over the weekend and today and now my brain is too dead to come up w/something tonight. Goodnight, all.

I am sick of sitting in your urine

I saw a link to this Craigslist Rant & Rave. OMG, so funny and so true! I bow to her brilliant articulation of Why It's Wrong to Hover.


I am sick of sitting in your urine
Reply to: anon-68483072@craigslist.org
Date: Thu Apr 14 15:44:25 2005

Ladies, I am tired of using a public toilet that is covered in your piss because you are too germophobic to actually sit your ass down on the seat. Instead, you pee while your ass hovers above, 12-24 inches of air protecting your precious butt from public toilet cooties. I am not concerned about pubic crabs or toilet bugs or a rat coming out of the toilet bowl and biting my coochie or whatever the hell you crazy anti-sitters worry about, and I will sit down and make myself comfortable while I pee. When I was toilet trained, I sat down on my potty chair and didn't poise my two-year-old hind end above the seat and old habits die hard. So.

A major side effect of the squatting trend is the little droplets of pee your squatting leaves all over the toilet seat. Don't even tell me you try to wipe the seat clean after you splash it. Just don't. Wiping a public toilet seat with sub-par toilet paper is even more disgusting than sitting on a toilet and is something that even I will not do. So you squat and pee and flush and leave and I here I come, full of coffee and eager to get the thong out of my butt crack, and in my haste I take a seat without noticing the urine that has pooled together on my throne. And there I am, my ass covered in your piss.

Oh yes, there are times when I squat, too, but only after your exuberant peeing has ruined it for me. Miami International Airport is a wonderful example of a place where I assume I have to squat. Those toilets look like you didn't just pee, you exploded.

Nobody abroad seems to have this problem. My ass has comfortably fell into the open arms of the toilet in Europe and in Africa. Yes, in Africa, where I am sure they have many more communicable toilet diseases than here, people sat their asses down and did their thing without a second thought. It was awesome.

You will notice that in many places The Management (or so it says on the dispensers) now provides you with some sani-ass covers. These were specially crafted for paranoid butts like yours, so that you too can sit on the seat and have a potty experience just like you could in the comfort of your own, disinfected home. There is no need for my butt to be wet with your pee drops anymore.

Alternatively, if you are still fearful of the germs that could climb over your sani-butt paper and fly into your anus and wreak havoc, perhaps you are like the woman who missed the toilet entirely in my office bathroom a few weeks back. As I stood up and buttoned my pants, there was her urine, pooled right next to my foot. Explain that one to me, girls.

Hotness=Self Esteem?

Paul and I were talking about an NPR Fresh Air program featuring an interview with Nick Anderson, Pulitzer-winning political cartoonist. Boy, he tells it like it is! Example:

Panel 1: a soldier in Iraq in a bullet-ridden, dilapidated HumVee. Panel 2: A well-off American at home in a brand-new yellow Hummer with a "Support Our Troops" ribbon sticker on the back, exclaiming,"Look what I could afford with my tax refund!"

Another one: Bush is watching a procession of military caskets. He tells a little kid,"Their daddies just didn't know the right people."

It made me wince although I agree with the sentiment. Paul said they were just as merciless with Clinton, if not more, and the Republicans didn't complain about that, did they? And now their panties are in a twist. But Clinton got roasted for sleazy sex, etc, which wasn't exactly causing the country to to go hell in a handbasket.

And then I thought, why couldn't he have just found a healthy outlet for that? Why not take matters into his own hands, so to speak? But some people just need that validation from others hitting on them to feel self-worth, I guess, to the degree that they're willing to risk everything for it. Understandable. I used to be a little bit like that myself. In my teens and early twenties, some kind of male attention every day was vital to my sense of self-worth. I was often desperate for it. The though of appearing frumpy, unattractive, something other than sexy young thing sounded like a pass to Loserville.

But you know what? I've grown out of it! I still feel beautiful and attractive, but the fact that men aren't hitting on me right and left doesn't bother me at all. In fact, I much prefer it! I get everything I need at home as far as that. I don't need to go looking for it.

New Phone Answering System

I am psyched--we have a brand new phone answering system! Our old answering machine, bless its heart, just wasn't very intelligible. I think Paul bought it when mini-cassette type answering machines were just beginning to be replaced by digital recorders, and this one was definitely a first draft. Messages often sounded little better than the adults on "Peanuts."

People who had medium or loud speaking voices would sound so distorted, we missed at least every 3rd word even with the playback volume on low. We could figure out most of the missing words from context, but the all-important digits of the return phone# would elude us. Think speaking softer would solve the problem? Not so fast. The machine would cut off if it perceived 7 or more seconds of "silence," and often hung up on our soft-spoken friends.

Finally tired of dealing with it, we now have a brand new system with 5.8 GHz and, count 'em, three mailboxes. So cool!

Credit Card Companies:1, Little People: 0

I just read this column in Newsweek about the bankruptcy reform bill that passed Congress recently. 95 percent of bankruptcy filers have suffered family breakup, job loss or devastating medical expenses, and about half are due to medical expenses alone. "Let's make it harder for them to file, and restore the stigma." Great idea, just what they need.

I really don't get this. Here's this administration putting everything on the Giant Credit Card in the Sky for future generations to get stuck paying, yet they want to punish someone drowning in interest and late fees because they maxed out their credit on cancer therapy not covered by insurance.

The credit card lobby has way too much power, I think. MBNA probably doesn't like me too much, since I haven't paid them interest or fees since 1990. They've long since stopped sending me unsolicited credit offers in the mail--they finally got a clue that I'm a waste of postage. But what about all those people just getting by who fall for those offers and then get slammed with the fine print? The creditors deserve to get stuck writing off that debt--they took the risk of preying on people who can't handle the credit, so it's their own fault.

If the Bush administration wants to get all moralistic about "irresponsible" debt, how about looking in the mirror?

Dancin' Feet

I've started taking a beginning modern dance class on Saturday afternoons. It's a lot of fun being on the dance floor instead of playing for the class, for once. I'm good at picking up and remembering sequences, but it's physically challenging for me, especially flexibility-wise. Pretty soon we're going to be starting up our ballroom dancing again. I've been waiting all these months for my foot to heal up enough, since ballroom shoes have no support whatsoever.

I'm amazed the foot feels as decent as it does. Well, as long as I don't stop moving. Otherwise, I'm like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz.


Thanks to all this lovely hardware in my foot, I have a slight bulge on the outer edge of it. I never noticed too much until my first day in sandals last week. Now, these sandals are Clarks and have always passed the Three-Mile Blister Test* with ease, but thanks to The Bump, I got a blister right where the straps intersect. It wasn't bad (it's gone already), but if I want to walk to work this summer, I'm going to have to put on a prophylactic band-aid first.


*My policy for shoes: If I can't walk 3 miles in a pair of shoes without getting a blister, I won't buy them.

Audition or party game?

Every (good) job I've ever gotten has been through word of mouth, almost always when i wasn't particularly looking. One of the Windsong singers told me about a possible gig accompanying a gospel choir at Archwood UCC. I thought, why not see if it works out? I have had some experience faking the gospel style, and learning how to do something new never hurts.

So this past Thursday, I met with the gospel choir director to see how we would work together. He asked me to play Amazing Grace. Now, I already know how to jazz this one up. In the hymnbook, it's written out in that generic white-bread, 4-part harmony version, and I know that's not what he wants to hear. I was feeling a little cocky, so I said, "What key?" He picked a key I've never played it in before, but it didn't really throw me. Next was a peppy spiritual out of the hymnbook that I'd never seen or heard before, to see how I would jazz it up at sight. Again, no problem. This was fun!

Then he asked me if I could learn things from a recording by ear. Sure, I said. So he put in a tape in the boombox. The song was slow, in an R & B style with jazzy harmony (the kind of chords they don't teach you the names of in theory class), and to top it off, was in the key of Eb minor. 6 flats! But by the 2nd verse, I could pick out some of the chords and by the 2nd hearing, could play the whole verse--well, at least the harmony. The pastor had come in by then, and they both kept saying I was amazing. I was having a blast. It reminded me of that beloved party game of my youth, "Don't Look--What Chord Am I Playing?" But this time it resulted in a job. We will have rehearsals 2 Sundays a month in the early afternoon, and sing for the service on 4th Sundays. Looks like Sunday will be one of my fullest work days.

A new website for Cleveland artists just went up on April 15. Called Artistschair, it's a place for artists seeking work to put up their profiles and contact information. Here's mine. No nibbles yet, but it can't hurt.

An Evening with Apollo's Fire

Last night Paul & I saw Apollo's Fire (The Cleveland Baroque Orchestra), with James Sommerville as featured soloist playing 2 Mozart Horn Concertos on the natural horn. This is the French horn from 200 years ago, which has no valves. Only a few notes (from the overtone series) can be played on it, but you can get the rest of the notes in the chromatic scale by manipulating your hand inside the bell, which raises or lowers the pitch. We came early for the pre-concert lecture, sat in the front row, and were enthralled along with all the other music nerds as he showed us some of the technical things about the instrument and did some demonstrations. When he played a scale, each consecutive note had a totally different timbre and hand position.

He was just tremendous in the concert, playing expressively and masterfully through all the runs, trills, and occasional cadenzas. I never really noticed before how Mozart often put an "open" note on the stronger part of the beat and the stopped or altered notes on the weak part, so when he did the opposite it has an impact we don't hear on a modern horn. So cool. The orchestra also played on period instruments, so everything had a mellower, muted sound quality.

One of the bass players, Sue Yelanjian, had been in some of my classes when I was at CIM, so I went up to say hi to her aferwards and catch up a little bit. One of my former music theory profs, Mrs. Roy, was there too. She remembered me--in fact, she and Mr. Guy still get together sometimes and she said just this week they had been talking about me! Funny, since I had just Googled him a few days ago to see if he was still at CIM (he is, but no longer the Theory Dept. Chair--Mrs. Roy says "he got tired of putting up with that.") I should email him. Of course, I also got to introduce Paul to these people from my past, which I love to do!

We went out for a late dinner at Nighttown afterward--excellent food and live jazz, and we didn't even have to wait for a table since it was so late. On our way out, who should we see huddling up at the bar but our evening's soloist, James Sommerville, smoking a cigarette.

More photos on karint.com

I've been catching up on my photo uploads. I had almost 2 months worth of pictures that I haven't shared yet. Starting the blog has inspired me to get off my butt (well, at least figuratively). Check out more hiking pictures and more Windsong pictures here. I'm also involved in a group at church, the UU Adventurers. We've done things like hiking, biking and taking a kendo class taught by Paul! You can see those pics here.

My Spring Photo Project

This month I have been enjoying a new photo project for spring. The time here between bare winter branches and full summer leaves is only about 2 months at most. It usually seems to go by way too fast because I don't take enough time to look. Since I'm walking to work 5 days a week now, I've been bringing the camera to record the transformation. Here is a view I walk by every day, the lagoon in front of the Cleveland Museum of Art. The week before I took this, everything was still almost bare except for the yellow-green of the willows.




I just added a new directory to my website with all my spring photos--they are turning out beautifully! Check them out here.

I'm finally starting this

I am such a flake when it comes to responding to email. It must be the perfectionist in me that makes it take an hour to write a personal email that takes maybe 90 seconds to read. If only I could just spit it out without overthinking so much.

My brother just started a blog this week and sent me the link, inspiring me to start my own. I haven't kept any sort of journal since I was 23 (for you mathematicians, that's 17 years ago). I found that journal during the Great Purge of 2002 (first move in a decade), and reading it was very educational. I remember at the time thinking I had grown up and matured so much. Let's just say, from my present vantage point of age 40, I was still very much an adolescent.