Piano for Old People (and a few thoughts on trying to stay true to what you believe)

When I was younger my mom put me in piano lessons, and like my violin lessons, I only half- heartedly tried to do well, an attitude I regret a little now.  But! Not to be held back by my lack of enthusiasm in the past, I've decided now is as good a time as any to rally my energies.  So I've picked a few songs and practiced as many times a week as I can.  To encourage myself, I set up this prize: If I practice at least 15 mins. three times a week for two months, I can buy any one piece of sheet music I want at the end of the second month.

I realize that is a meager amount of practice time--but I'm going from no practice time to practice time, so I thought slow and steady (and realistic) was best.  I'm proud to say, though, that I've practiced much more than a mere 45 mins a week almost every week so far.  The piano is addicting, I tell you.

As part of my deal with myself, I've been practicing a hymn or two from church, so my newly developing skilz don't go to waste when it comes to serving in church.  So when I saw this sheet music in this month's youth magazine (from church) I took it with me to see if I liked the song.


I love the song, or rather, the message of the song.  You'll notice that it starts out with music from the hymn Come, Come Ye Saints--and that was one of the selling points for me.  I love the idea that anyone who is trying to live a moral code of values is engaged in a struggle not unlike our pioneer anscestors--though our conflict is more subtle in nature, it takes the same kind of dedication, fortitude, will-power and faith.

And anyone who has tried to live a code of values different from the norm knows what I mean when I say it is a struggle or conflict.  It isn't easy to be the only person at a social gathering, or at work, or anywhere, really, who believes something different from everyone else.  Especially when the thing you believe puts you in the position of having to say what you believe (which almost always means a high likelihood of  being ridiculed, or having to defend yourself---or at the very least having to find a way to tactfully remove yourself from the situation).  It certainly isn't a comfortable place to find yourself in.

So, I think the message of this song is a perfect rally cry for youth everywhere who are trying to hold true to their moral beliefs.  Actually, it's also a perfect rally cry even for this one older person who is trying to learn to play the piano.

The Christmas Wreath that wouldn't die

How I went from lazy-still-have-my-Christmas-decoration-up-in-February

to fully-decorated-for-Valentine's-Day-neener-neener

 

(yeah, that's a homemade wreath with a big ol' branch sticking off the side, and yes, I just cut some hearts out of cardstock and wired them onto the wreath.  It was easy peasy.  Even though it's a little ghetto...)

--Lu

Scrabble Frames

I'm gonna be on the lookout for scrabble games at the thrift store from now on.

 

image from diyideas 

(unrelated side note: a small piece of green fun foam is hiding beneath my alt key.  great.)

Sophie Blackall

Oooh.  If you're up late because of a cold like I am, this might make you feel a little better about being awake.

 

This blog by one of my favorite illustrators (she illustrates Ivy and Bean books, and I get the books just to look at the pictures...ok.  I read the stories too...) showcases her illustrations of missed connections. 

I would have posted one of the illustrations here, but I'm a weenie and don't want to email her first to get the ok.  So here's the next best thing:  links to the pictures!

I love the knitting one and the collar one and the ice skating ones the best.  Her etsy site sells the prints for $40. Just sayin'.

--Lu

Earthquake

I've been organizing my junk memorabilia this last week, and I came across this little gem from when I worked with handicapped kids one summer during my undergraduate days.  I retouched it a little (because I didn't go to graduate school for nothing, dang it.)  Hopefully you enjoy it.

***

Norm is sititng on my lap, his short red hair spoking out messily from his head.  I'm watching someone on the other side of the room.  I notice Norm shifting position, and I look down.

He's leaning closer and closer to me, his tongue poking out of his mouth.  He doesn't seem to mind the close proximity of my face, and it isn't until moments before impact that I register his intent and push him back. 

With his plan to lick my mouth (an ongoing battle) thwarted, I watch as his face twists into a boyish mask of anger.  He throws back his pale arm, balls his hand into a fist and glares at me.  Slowly and deliberately (almost painstakingly) he yells, "YOU STUPID!"  Each letter almost is highlighted with a small pause before the next is articulated.

I calmly look at him and state one simple phrase: "The earthquake is coming." 
His face remains tense, his arm still poised for bonking me.  That is my cue.

Quickly, catching him off guard, I grab him tightly and start rocking him back and forth, bouncing my knees wildly while happily yelling, "Oh no!" (smile) "The EARTHQUAKE! Run Norm!  Save yourself!  Don't worry about me--I'll survive somehow!"  He starts laughing and snorting hysterically.

I stop jostling him.

His laughter slows; one last giggle bubbles out.
And he's back on his old theme.  He manages to say, "STUP--"
But I beat him to it.  "EARTHQUAKE!" I yell as I bounce my knees as violently as I can. 
And then he's laughing again. Loving every minute of the "earthquake."

When I stop this time, his face relaxes--his eyelids lower, he breathes heavily, slowly.  He quietly whispers, "I'm sorry."

Corinne Bailey Rae's New CD

NPR ran this story on Ms. Rae's new album, and then set up a beautiful FREE link to let you listen to the album until it's released on Jan. 26.  Enjoy.  --Moo

Birthday Boy

My old roomie Jamila and her brother came to stay the night on Friday, and on Saturday I cooked The Rock and the Jamila's the biggest fattiest greasiest yummiest birthday breakfast EVER.  There were pancakes made with half and half, and freshly made berry syrup and whipped cream, and a Whole Package of Expensive Costco Bacon fried in it's own greasy goodness, and eggs fried in the bacon grease.  Wow.  It was heavenly. No four people should eat an entire package of thick bacon in one sitting--so we didn't.  We left two pieces for breakfast on Sunday.  And also, we didn't eat until noon, which turned out to be a good thing, because we would have exploded had  we actually eaten three meals that day. 

Annnnd...that's all. 
Happy Birthday to The Rock who can now say he is the same age (number wise) as I am, and that means it actually seems like we're the same age, and I can't play the I'm Older And Smarter card for a few months now.  Bummer.