Just for fun, I've decided it's high time I give you a look into my life as a pianist. We're a rare breed and the things that come out of our mouths often astonish me if I think about them too much... so I try not to. But every now and then, it strikes me anew how amazingly different we are from the rest of the world... towards the edge of ridiculousness in some cases. Most of what I've written here are either things repeated on such a regular basis that I don't think twice about it, or things I've said before and realized my own ridiculousness in the moment. For your convenience, I've divided these gem-like phrases into categories...
The needs:
"Do you have any nail clippers? I left mine in the car..."
"Ugh, I am totally out of hole re-inforcers..."
"I clearly didn't drink enough coffee this morning..."
"Thanks for feeding me."
"I need to go pick up some music for my kids..."
"Can you stop and get me a banana on your way?"
"Man, I really need to go practice..."
"Hey, wanna hang out? I just really need to be with people."
"Oh yeah... it's in my car." (as in, whatever... anything... and everything: music scores, multiple pairs of shoes, food, water, tea bags, tissues, stamps, Bible, car charger, extra pair of mittens, scissors, tape, a hole punch, the NFMC guide to repertoire selections, an air mattress, a blanket... you get the idea...)
The excuses:
"I can't... I have rehearsal."
"I can't... I have to teach."
"I can't... I have to play a wedding."
"I can't... I have to play for the Lutherans (or denomination of choice)."
"I can't... my kids have a competition/recital."
"I can't... I have to practice."
"I don't think Beethoven would approve..."
The complaints:
"I need to practice so bad... I haven't touched a piano in like 3 days."
"Oh man... I have to play a wedding this weekend and I am so not ready."
"If I have to play Canon in D one more time..."
"Ugh, I have a cold. I just can't hear anything right now..."
"If I don't practice soon, the pads on my fingers are going to go away..."
"I haven't clipped my nails in so long..." (like, a week)
"That judge is anything but a pianist. Look at hair nails! She clearly has a full set of acrylics and hasn't played in years..."
"That fingering is awful. What edition is this...?"
"Those slurs are soooo not Bach's..."
"I don't think that pedaling is Beethoven's..."
"Oh man, my Beethoven/Chopin/Bach/Rachmaninoff/etc is KILLING me..."
"That left-hand passage in the development is brutal..."
"Bach, why do you HATE me??"
"I only practiced like an hour today..."
Things we tell our students:
"You need to clip your nails. Like stat. Sorry, it's part of being a pianist. Embrace it."
"I really want you to practice this in short sections, slowly, counting out loud."
"Did you count?"
"Have you practiced it hands seperate?"
"Have you practiced it hands together?
"Have you practiced it hands together in short sections?"
"Seriously, one or two measures at a time. And then the next one or two measures. And then hook those two measures to the first two measures. And then take that line and add it to another two measures... it's like you're going to build a big lego train of two-measure chunks."
"I promise: the way to go fast is to go slow. Think about the tortoise and the hare..."
"See this fermata? It means you can hold this note as long as you want. You could hold it so long, people will feel like they need to go get a cup of coffee or take a shower..."
"This measure needs some serious stop-practice..."
"Have you worked on it with the metronome?"
"Boy, that's a nasty page-turn, isn't it?"
"I need more top..."
"Shhh!"
"Count"
"Sing!"
"Your left hand is a little too loud there."
"Great! Can you add your dynamics now?"
"Up-down"
"Down-up"
"More-less"
"Get your pedal ready!"
"Yeah, good... I need more."
"YES!!! Oh man, I nearly fell over that was so good!"
"Here, can you go for a ride? Put your hand on top of mine."
"Um... I don't believe you. Can you try it again and shape the phrase better?"
"Ahhh! Look at all that tension in your thumb! You might as well be asking to get picked up on the side of the highway..."
"Um, I really need your fingers to not be flat."
"There's no way you'll ever play your scales faster with bent fingers..."
"Can you try it again without a hitchhiker thumb?"
"I'm going to give you this Taylor Swift/Disney/Twilight/Beatles/Harry Potter/etc piece, but I want you to be sure to count it out loud and use the fingering they give you..."
"So how have you been practicing this?"
"I'm gonna guess that you practiced this maybe 2 or 3 times this week..."
"Yes, yes, yes.... AHHH!!! No! No! You're killin' me, Smalls! Ok good. Let's go back..."
"Have you listened to this yet?"
"Did I give you any theory?"
"Don't put your hand between your legs when you bow... it looks like you have to go to the bathroom."
"I promise this is how real pianists do it."
I could go on. But it's time to sleep. Because tomorrow I'm gonna get up and do it all over again :)
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Monday, December 31, 2012
Epiphany
New Year's is always an anomaly to me. When I was growing up, we spent New Year's Eve... at home... going to bed early. I mean, let's not get too crazy here. And then on New Year's Day, our family would gather 'round to watch "It Happened on 5th Avenue" and at the end, when McKeever's dog jumps into his arms and they walk off together to head south, I would cry every time. But on the whole, New Year's was and still is extremely anticlimactic for me. Dr. Budds says that his ideal New Year's Eve would be spent going to the opera house in Vienna. It would certainly be an occasion worth dressing up for, that's certain. sidenote: the lives of the rich and glamorous are an entirely different world to me... I would be lucky if that happens for me once in my lifetime. Crazy to think that's how some people live.
On the whole though, I like to think about New Year's more in the context of the 12 Days of Christmas, i.e. the season between Christmas Day and Epiphany. It makes more sense to me to think of Epiphany as the important day to consider, not necessarily January 1. Besides, it lengthens the Christmas season that much more.
This New Year's Eve is no different than the rest: weird. I was blessed by a magical walk in the snow this morning, which turned into at least an inch or two by noon.
Then, since my friend Edwina is coming into town for the day, I decided that I would make a little something special. Unfortunately in the process, I cracked my housemom's red dutch oven from Crate & Barrel...
... seriously, Katherine. Don't try that at home, kids. It will not bode well for you. And then you will have to confess and look like the blonde that you sometimes are and spend an exorbitant amount of money on a new one. And then you will be a sad puppy. I honestly don't know why I didn't just use a saucepan in the first place. Truly, who can know the mind of Katie Beth sometimes?...
This is what I'm making... which will eventually turn into a gluten-free version of these. Yum. I hope. That is, if no other disasters strike...
Once Edwina gets here, which is taking forever because of the snow, we will finish baking these, go get stuff to make homemade hummus, eat the cauliflower soup I made yesterday, and go see my housemom at her store so she can meet Edwina and I can fess up to the cracked pot fiasco. Then tonight, we're headed over to a couple of friends' houses. This is the first time I've been out on New Year's Eve in... well, years.
I had hoped that I would feel better about the pot if I blogged about it. But I don't. I think it has to do with my personality. I have a tendency to feel overly bad about things. I also found out the other night that I share my Myers-Briggs personality profile with famous people like Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, J.K. Rowling, Shakespeare, and some sources even suspect Beethoven. I wonder if Beethoven would've felt bad about the cracked pot...
Also, an update for you on the rest of my life: I asked for three things for Christmas -- a car, a man, and season 4 of How I Met Your Mother. I've somehow gotten both a car and Season 4 before New Year's. I figure if a man comes before Epiphany, it still counts right? I mean, there are 12 days of Christmas that we're dealing with here... a lot can happen in 12 days. To be honest, I will probably find myself at the end of 2013 looking back at this post, still single and laughing at myself. But if buying a car has taught me anything, it's taught me that our God owns all the things in the world -- cars, men, houses, pots (cracked or uncracked)... whatever. Not only that, but he's a big God who knows our needs and our pain, and he's right there with us, ready to give us just what we need at exactly the right time.
That's how I'll be ringing in 2013.
On the whole though, I like to think about New Year's more in the context of the 12 Days of Christmas, i.e. the season between Christmas Day and Epiphany. It makes more sense to me to think of Epiphany as the important day to consider, not necessarily January 1. Besides, it lengthens the Christmas season that much more.
This New Year's Eve is no different than the rest: weird. I was blessed by a magical walk in the snow this morning, which turned into at least an inch or two by noon.
Then, since my friend Edwina is coming into town for the day, I decided that I would make a little something special. Unfortunately in the process, I cracked my housemom's red dutch oven from Crate & Barrel...
... seriously, Katherine. Don't try that at home, kids. It will not bode well for you. And then you will have to confess and look like the blonde that you sometimes are and spend an exorbitant amount of money on a new one. And then you will be a sad puppy. I honestly don't know why I didn't just use a saucepan in the first place. Truly, who can know the mind of Katie Beth sometimes?...
This is what I'm making... which will eventually turn into a gluten-free version of these. Yum. I hope. That is, if no other disasters strike...
Once Edwina gets here, which is taking forever because of the snow, we will finish baking these, go get stuff to make homemade hummus, eat the cauliflower soup I made yesterday, and go see my housemom at her store so she can meet Edwina and I can fess up to the cracked pot fiasco. Then tonight, we're headed over to a couple of friends' houses. This is the first time I've been out on New Year's Eve in... well, years.
I had hoped that I would feel better about the pot if I blogged about it. But I don't. I think it has to do with my personality. I have a tendency to feel overly bad about things. I also found out the other night that I share my Myers-Briggs personality profile with famous people like Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, J.K. Rowling, Shakespeare, and some sources even suspect Beethoven. I wonder if Beethoven would've felt bad about the cracked pot...
Also, an update for you on the rest of my life: I asked for three things for Christmas -- a car, a man, and season 4 of How I Met Your Mother. I've somehow gotten both a car and Season 4 before New Year's. I figure if a man comes before Epiphany, it still counts right? I mean, there are 12 days of Christmas that we're dealing with here... a lot can happen in 12 days. To be honest, I will probably find myself at the end of 2013 looking back at this post, still single and laughing at myself. But if buying a car has taught me anything, it's taught me that our God owns all the things in the world -- cars, men, houses, pots (cracked or uncracked)... whatever. Not only that, but he's a big God who knows our needs and our pain, and he's right there with us, ready to give us just what we need at exactly the right time.
That's how I'll be ringing in 2013.
Friday, December 28, 2012
Light blue and destined to bless: Norma Jean
Today was the best story ever. I could give you the bullet points but it wouldn't do it justice. But first, a little context... well, maybe a lot of context. Because no good story is ever complete without a healthy dose of it, let's be honest.
The car I have now, I have driven forever... or at least, what seems like forever. In actuality, it's been about six years. From its outset, this car has been destined to be a blessing to others. It was given to me by some family friends whose mother passed away and willed it to them. They didn't need it and had been praying about who they should give it to. At the time, I was in college and desperate to move off campus in order to save money on my growing pile of student loans. I barely had a dime to my name and had literally started praying that a car would fall from the sky. Little did I know at that time that God was totally taking me seriously. So of course it blew my mind when a 1992 Buick Le Sabre fell into my hands for the whopping sale price of $1. It was a light blue grandma car with about 70,000 miles on it at the time but I didn't care. It was the answer to prayer I'd been looking for. I have literally driven that thing til today. It has been such a good car: a complete beast in snow and ice, hauling around not only half my teaching library, but also its fair share of music scores, camping equipment, and high schoolers to student ministry activities. It's had coffee spilled in it and helped me move on multiple occasions, has survived an interstate blowout, an exploding coolant system, and rear-ended someone (due to my lack of attention... oops). I had named her Norma because she reminded me very much of the lady who took care of me when I was a little girl... Norma, who owned and operated a family dairy farm, together with her adult siblings and her mother: sturdy and ready to work with a hint of country in her. I drove her all over Columbia while I was in school and now St. Louis for the past two and a half years. These days, she just isn't getting the fuel economy I need her to and sadly, her reliability (at least for this pianist) has diminished significantly, particularly in the past year or two. It's time to find a new home for her.
So I've been looking. I started looking for a new car about mid-December. What a process. I can't tell you the number of slithery people I've talked to, nor the number of questionable cars I've test-driven. Every morning I would get up, scan craigslist, search through cars.com and carsoup, and start making calls... it was mind-numbing and draining and exhausting. At first I wanted a Jetta (and I eventually still do), but after taking one to my mechanic which turned out in every way to be just like the last guy I dated, I realized that now is probably not the right time to buy one. Had I bought that car, I would've totally named it after him. (sidenote: one thing I will say, I have learned so much about dating, simply by going through the process of buying a used car. There were days when the weight of looking for needles in haystacks in multiple areas of my life was not only overwhelming, but super discouraging...). After the Jetta fiasco, I started looking at Altimas and Honda Accords, particularly at the advice of our mechanic, who is a trusted family friend. Eventually I found one: drives tight, no major problems, reasonably decent mileage, only 10 yrs old. The catch? Sticker price about $1500 more than I'm able (or want) to pay. Eek! Long story short, this morning my dad and I went to the dealership to talk turkey. The car was still available and Dad had pre-coached me through the negotiation process. He and some of his friends had also done some considerable research into this particular Accord, as well as 02 Accords in general. We were so ready for this morning. It took about three rounds of negotiations but we finally arrived at the right price -- exactly the amount that I was able to pay. God is so good. Dad thinks I could've gotten it for maybe $200 cheaper than I did, but he says I did well for my first time. He would know. He used to sell cars.
But this is the best part: after we picked up the Accord and signed all the paperwork, I called my sister's boyfriend Will to let him know that it was time to sell the Buick. Will had agreed to help me from the outset and since Dad had done a lot of the work in helping me test-drive and negotiate, I figured this was one area where Will could take the wheel (no pun intended. Promise. I hate puns) and sail through with flying colors. I was praying for a good buyer -- someone who would use her well and not dissect her for parts or sell her to a scrap yard. Will and I had agreed to sell the Buick for only the cost of the sales tax on the Accord. Within an hour or less, Will texted to let me know that he had a buyer... it was a friend of his, a friend who's been out of work for awhile, whose family has been through its own share of pain and heartache, and really needs a car to help them out. When I talked to Will later tonight, he indicated to me that this was no ordinary sale. Once again, Norma is falling from the sky into the hands of someone who desperately needs her at just the right moment. It makes my heart so happy it hurts...
God, you are so, so good.
The car I have now, I have driven forever... or at least, what seems like forever. In actuality, it's been about six years. From its outset, this car has been destined to be a blessing to others. It was given to me by some family friends whose mother passed away and willed it to them. They didn't need it and had been praying about who they should give it to. At the time, I was in college and desperate to move off campus in order to save money on my growing pile of student loans. I barely had a dime to my name and had literally started praying that a car would fall from the sky. Little did I know at that time that God was totally taking me seriously. So of course it blew my mind when a 1992 Buick Le Sabre fell into my hands for the whopping sale price of $1. It was a light blue grandma car with about 70,000 miles on it at the time but I didn't care. It was the answer to prayer I'd been looking for. I have literally driven that thing til today. It has been such a good car: a complete beast in snow and ice, hauling around not only half my teaching library, but also its fair share of music scores, camping equipment, and high schoolers to student ministry activities. It's had coffee spilled in it and helped me move on multiple occasions, has survived an interstate blowout, an exploding coolant system, and rear-ended someone (due to my lack of attention... oops). I had named her Norma because she reminded me very much of the lady who took care of me when I was a little girl... Norma, who owned and operated a family dairy farm, together with her adult siblings and her mother: sturdy and ready to work with a hint of country in her. I drove her all over Columbia while I was in school and now St. Louis for the past two and a half years. These days, she just isn't getting the fuel economy I need her to and sadly, her reliability (at least for this pianist) has diminished significantly, particularly in the past year or two. It's time to find a new home for her.
So I've been looking. I started looking for a new car about mid-December. What a process. I can't tell you the number of slithery people I've talked to, nor the number of questionable cars I've test-driven. Every morning I would get up, scan craigslist, search through cars.com and carsoup, and start making calls... it was mind-numbing and draining and exhausting. At first I wanted a Jetta (and I eventually still do), but after taking one to my mechanic which turned out in every way to be just like the last guy I dated, I realized that now is probably not the right time to buy one. Had I bought that car, I would've totally named it after him. (sidenote: one thing I will say, I have learned so much about dating, simply by going through the process of buying a used car. There were days when the weight of looking for needles in haystacks in multiple areas of my life was not only overwhelming, but super discouraging...). After the Jetta fiasco, I started looking at Altimas and Honda Accords, particularly at the advice of our mechanic, who is a trusted family friend. Eventually I found one: drives tight, no major problems, reasonably decent mileage, only 10 yrs old. The catch? Sticker price about $1500 more than I'm able (or want) to pay. Eek! Long story short, this morning my dad and I went to the dealership to talk turkey. The car was still available and Dad had pre-coached me through the negotiation process. He and some of his friends had also done some considerable research into this particular Accord, as well as 02 Accords in general. We were so ready for this morning. It took about three rounds of negotiations but we finally arrived at the right price -- exactly the amount that I was able to pay. God is so good. Dad thinks I could've gotten it for maybe $200 cheaper than I did, but he says I did well for my first time. He would know. He used to sell cars.
But this is the best part: after we picked up the Accord and signed all the paperwork, I called my sister's boyfriend Will to let him know that it was time to sell the Buick. Will had agreed to help me from the outset and since Dad had done a lot of the work in helping me test-drive and negotiate, I figured this was one area where Will could take the wheel (no pun intended. Promise. I hate puns) and sail through with flying colors. I was praying for a good buyer -- someone who would use her well and not dissect her for parts or sell her to a scrap yard. Will and I had agreed to sell the Buick for only the cost of the sales tax on the Accord. Within an hour or less, Will texted to let me know that he had a buyer... it was a friend of his, a friend who's been out of work for awhile, whose family has been through its own share of pain and heartache, and really needs a car to help them out. When I talked to Will later tonight, he indicated to me that this was no ordinary sale. Once again, Norma is falling from the sky into the hands of someone who desperately needs her at just the right moment. It makes my heart so happy it hurts...
God, you are so, so good.
Friday, November 9, 2012
yellow
In case you haven't noticed, it's been a while since I've been on the blog. There have been a couple of reasons for this, mainly because I've been on an emotional roller coaster since moving in with Abby's parents. And it's not because of them. In a word: boys. Or more specifically, a boy. And he walked out about as quickly as he walked in. It was amazing while it lasted, but awful and horrendous in the end, which made the break-up surprisingly easy to deal with (or easier than I expected at least) because he turned out to be completely immature and unfit for a serious relationship. You don't tell a girl you love her and talk about marriage and then act surprised if she takes you at your word. Neither do you voice major fears, concerns, and doubts about the relationship within the first month of dating (while telling her you love her) and act surprised when she has a certain amount of anxiety that's feeding off the situation you've created. Poor guy dug a hole for himself that he just couldn't get out of without turning coward.
I have kept telling God all along that I just can't deal with another heartbreak. And he was totally faithful in sparing me because I have largely been more frustrated and angry than sad. I suspect that I will grieve about it at some point later when I least expect it, but when you're treated in a such a manner, you're just glad when the truth finally comes out, the confusion is over, and you can move on with your life. I honestly pity him... and the woman he ultimately ends up with. If he learned his lesson at all and somehow changes because of it, then I will have done my job and considered it all worthwhile. This isn't to say that I'm not hurt. I'm just choosing to see the bigger picture instead.
Strange how someone can seem so perfect for you in so many ways and yet be completely wrong...
... and in all of this, I have found Beethoven to be extremely therapeutic the last couple of days, particularly the development section of the first movement of my sonata. The development is short (i.e. a completely attainable goal) with lots of swirling left hand stuff to work through... purely a matter of time before I hardly give it a second thought. Kind of like this break-up.
I have kept telling God all along that I just can't deal with another heartbreak. And he was totally faithful in sparing me because I have largely been more frustrated and angry than sad. I suspect that I will grieve about it at some point later when I least expect it, but when you're treated in a such a manner, you're just glad when the truth finally comes out, the confusion is over, and you can move on with your life. I honestly pity him... and the woman he ultimately ends up with. If he learned his lesson at all and somehow changes because of it, then I will have done my job and considered it all worthwhile. This isn't to say that I'm not hurt. I'm just choosing to see the bigger picture instead.
Strange how someone can seem so perfect for you in so many ways and yet be completely wrong...
... and in all of this, I have found Beethoven to be extremely therapeutic the last couple of days, particularly the development section of the first movement of my sonata. The development is short (i.e. a completely attainable goal) with lots of swirling left hand stuff to work through... purely a matter of time before I hardly give it a second thought. Kind of like this break-up.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
lost to write-ins, independents, and non-voters
It's here. The day we all groan together over the next four years. And let's face it, we would have groaned either way. Because neither candidate is really worth celebrating.
To show you what I mean, here is an excerpt from a text conversation yesterday with my dear friend Halley:
H: "I still don't like either of the candidates..."
Me: "Write in"
H: "Hahaha. Is that what you're going to do?"
Me: "Yep. Maybe I'll write in Big Bird. Or Stephen Colbert."
I ended up writing in Ron Paul. Halley is pregnant with her first and due any day now. She ended up writing in her baby's name.
And I can think of countless others... friends of mine who are fed up with the system and choosing not to buy in, who wrote in a candidate or voted independent or just sat the election out. Ours is the generation of what I would call conservative moderates. Or maybe conservative libertarians. Either way, it's those of us in the 22 - 35 age bracket who grew up with either super conservative or super liberal baby boomer parents, who have settled somewhere in the middle politically. The current system is super broken. It just isn't giving us what we want. We're tired of it and we're not casting a vote to perpetuate the brokenness.
You may say that we wasted our votes last night. But you know, when I'm shopping for a dress or a really great pair of jeans and I don't find what I want, I wait for something better. I don't buy something I'm not convinced of. I would say it's the same politically for us. I'm no political strategist or statistician, but from what I know, countless votes were lost for both sides last night because thousands like yours truly just didn't believe in the candidates presented to us. What my vote said yesterday was this: "All you old white men with money and power who head up the partisan sides: Give us something better. We're not buying this."
And yeah, it didn't happen this election. And maybe it won't happen next election either. But eventually, third party ideas will become more mainstream and my generation will be able to vote our convictions in good conscience again. Maybe we'll get excited about voting again instead of writing in someone like Gandalf... or worse, sitting the whole thing out.
I didn't waste my vote. I refused to compromise my ideals.
To show you what I mean, here is an excerpt from a text conversation yesterday with my dear friend Halley:
H: "I still don't like either of the candidates..."
Me: "Write in"
H: "Hahaha. Is that what you're going to do?"
Me: "Yep. Maybe I'll write in Big Bird. Or Stephen Colbert."
I ended up writing in Ron Paul. Halley is pregnant with her first and due any day now. She ended up writing in her baby's name.
And I can think of countless others... friends of mine who are fed up with the system and choosing not to buy in, who wrote in a candidate or voted independent or just sat the election out. Ours is the generation of what I would call conservative moderates. Or maybe conservative libertarians. Either way, it's those of us in the 22 - 35 age bracket who grew up with either super conservative or super liberal baby boomer parents, who have settled somewhere in the middle politically. The current system is super broken. It just isn't giving us what we want. We're tired of it and we're not casting a vote to perpetuate the brokenness.
You may say that we wasted our votes last night. But you know, when I'm shopping for a dress or a really great pair of jeans and I don't find what I want, I wait for something better. I don't buy something I'm not convinced of. I would say it's the same politically for us. I'm no political strategist or statistician, but from what I know, countless votes were lost for both sides last night because thousands like yours truly just didn't believe in the candidates presented to us. What my vote said yesterday was this: "All you old white men with money and power who head up the partisan sides: Give us something better. We're not buying this."
And yeah, it didn't happen this election. And maybe it won't happen next election either. But eventually, third party ideas will become more mainstream and my generation will be able to vote our convictions in good conscience again. Maybe we'll get excited about voting again instead of writing in someone like Gandalf... or worse, sitting the whole thing out.
I didn't waste my vote. I refused to compromise my ideals.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
flow
A quick post this morning while I wait to go downstairs. A couple of mornings now, I have trotted down the stairs to find myself right in the middle of Mike and Karen's morning Bible study together. I'm always at a loss at what to do. I certainly don't want to interrupt by heading to the pantry and starting a pot of coffee, especially if they're praying. It's an awkward moment. I'm sure I'll get used to it and figure out their routine, just as they will mine in due time of course... unless of course neither one of us has a set routine, which could turn out to be the case. Going with the flow is a great skill, until your flow runs into another person's flow... and then there's too much flow going in equal and opposite directions. It's a lot of flow. Flow.
But seriously, in all actuality, these past few days have seen some of the funniest moments for me of the past few months. Sunday was moving day, and so of course one or two of the freshman girls from student ministry at Central came to help me move... that is, came home from church with me and then I took them back later that night to youth group. They are, in a word, some of the most hilarious creatures on the planet. "Can we come house-shopping with you someday, Katie Beth?" "When you get married, can we come to your wedding?" "Seriously, how long did it take you to learn all of our names last year?" (Uh... the entire year)... "Katie Beth! That is not ok for a mama!" Not to mention all the antics they like to try while in traffic. I have never seen so many astonished drivers sitting at stoplights next to me. But I love them and they were a huge help. They basically set up my entire room for me while I stood around talking to my family and bidding them farewell after the move. And then they forbid me to bring my ficus tree (strung with white lights) upstairs to my room, claiming that it was a bad addiction and that I needed to quit the ficus. You can't make this stuff up.
Yesterday I made my debut as a conductor at Lutheran High... I promise you, it was nothing huge. But definitely funny. There's one piece (a cappella) that Jen wants to sing the solo for during Chapel next week and since I won't have to play, she's asked me to conduct it instead. She figures if the director of the St. Louis Chamber Chorus can step down from the podium and sing with his own choir, then so can she. I'm just excited to actually use my Basic Conducting skills :) But of course, being a pianist, the very first downbeat I give them, the entire choir bursts out laughing. I can't help it... I prep with a sniff. I always do... that's how I was taught to cue as a pianist. Get over it and let's go. It took two or three tries before they finally stopped laughing and then I gave a bad prep and did it once without sniffing, at which point they were completely confused and decided they absolutely couldn't come in without it anymore. Lol. High schoolers...
Today: attempting to get back into my normal practice routine. Spent the majority of yesterday's practice time catching up on accompanying stuff. Then teaching three kids this afternoon, then Wednesday night youth group. Long days, but I love them. And I'm loving the weather here lately. St. Louis in the fall is incomparable.
And somehow the Cards lost last night and still made the playoffs... here we go again.
But seriously, in all actuality, these past few days have seen some of the funniest moments for me of the past few months. Sunday was moving day, and so of course one or two of the freshman girls from student ministry at Central came to help me move... that is, came home from church with me and then I took them back later that night to youth group. They are, in a word, some of the most hilarious creatures on the planet. "Can we come house-shopping with you someday, Katie Beth?" "When you get married, can we come to your wedding?" "Seriously, how long did it take you to learn all of our names last year?" (Uh... the entire year)... "Katie Beth! That is not ok for a mama!" Not to mention all the antics they like to try while in traffic. I have never seen so many astonished drivers sitting at stoplights next to me. But I love them and they were a huge help. They basically set up my entire room for me while I stood around talking to my family and bidding them farewell after the move. And then they forbid me to bring my ficus tree (strung with white lights) upstairs to my room, claiming that it was a bad addiction and that I needed to quit the ficus. You can't make this stuff up.
Yesterday I made my debut as a conductor at Lutheran High... I promise you, it was nothing huge. But definitely funny. There's one piece (a cappella) that Jen wants to sing the solo for during Chapel next week and since I won't have to play, she's asked me to conduct it instead. She figures if the director of the St. Louis Chamber Chorus can step down from the podium and sing with his own choir, then so can she. I'm just excited to actually use my Basic Conducting skills :) But of course, being a pianist, the very first downbeat I give them, the entire choir bursts out laughing. I can't help it... I prep with a sniff. I always do... that's how I was taught to cue as a pianist. Get over it and let's go. It took two or three tries before they finally stopped laughing and then I gave a bad prep and did it once without sniffing, at which point they were completely confused and decided they absolutely couldn't come in without it anymore. Lol. High schoolers...
Today: attempting to get back into my normal practice routine. Spent the majority of yesterday's practice time catching up on accompanying stuff. Then teaching three kids this afternoon, then Wednesday night youth group. Long days, but I love them. And I'm loving the weather here lately. St. Louis in the fall is incomparable.
And somehow the Cards lost last night and still made the playoffs... here we go again.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
oct 2
A quick post while I wait to meet my mom. So many things have happened in the past week... so many good things, that is. But this pianist is one exhausted girl.
For one thing, I moved... again... for the 5th time in two years. We are officially out of the boy-lair and in with a couple of empty nesters whose seven kids are grown and gone (at the very least in college). It is wonderful but my body is still adjusting. Any time I make a major life transition, my body violently resists and turns its pure hatred on me in whatever form it so chooses. This time it's sleeplessness... last night I got about five hours. The average for the past week has been about six per night, give or take. I really need about seven to seven-and-a-half to function in a loveable manner. Less than ideal, but you do what you have to do.
Monday morning I got off facebook. I didn't deactivate. Between you and me, I will probably still check it now and then to keep up with people, but no commenting or status updates. It's already really good because I'm forcing myself to be more intentional in real life with people I care about. The only downside is that you can't be intentional with everyone, so I know there are (and will be) people who fall through the cracks. I think Facebook can be really dangerous in that regard... giving us a false sense of security in our relationships. I'll be interested to see what else my hiatus reveals.
Saturday we got the piano and the dining room table and chairs moved out of the boy-lair. Holy cow, what a job. But it was the smoothest I'd ever seen that instrument moved. Eight guys and a truck showed up from my church and we were done within an hour and a half. It is now properly installed in the Central Youth House where it will stay until it either dies or finds a new owner. I am so relieved.
Today, I also got MY NEW MACBOOK in the mail today from my friend James. I am super pumped. He gave me a great deal on it and even sealed in a beautifully printed receipt for my business tax records. I'm not typing from it just yet... it's still in its packaging and I am hesitant to open it when I have to teach in just another hour or so. I would much rather wait until I have ample time to introduce myself to it properly, figure out its quirks, and start transferring stuff over. Let's face it: in the midst of a move and a new computer, it may be another three weeks before I am fully functional again.
More later. Mom just rolled in...
For one thing, I moved... again... for the 5th time in two years. We are officially out of the boy-lair and in with a couple of empty nesters whose seven kids are grown and gone (at the very least in college). It is wonderful but my body is still adjusting. Any time I make a major life transition, my body violently resists and turns its pure hatred on me in whatever form it so chooses. This time it's sleeplessness... last night I got about five hours. The average for the past week has been about six per night, give or take. I really need about seven to seven-and-a-half to function in a loveable manner. Less than ideal, but you do what you have to do.
Monday morning I got off facebook. I didn't deactivate. Between you and me, I will probably still check it now and then to keep up with people, but no commenting or status updates. It's already really good because I'm forcing myself to be more intentional in real life with people I care about. The only downside is that you can't be intentional with everyone, so I know there are (and will be) people who fall through the cracks. I think Facebook can be really dangerous in that regard... giving us a false sense of security in our relationships. I'll be interested to see what else my hiatus reveals.
Saturday we got the piano and the dining room table and chairs moved out of the boy-lair. Holy cow, what a job. But it was the smoothest I'd ever seen that instrument moved. Eight guys and a truck showed up from my church and we were done within an hour and a half. It is now properly installed in the Central Youth House where it will stay until it either dies or finds a new owner. I am so relieved.
Today, I also got MY NEW MACBOOK in the mail today from my friend James. I am super pumped. He gave me a great deal on it and even sealed in a beautifully printed receipt for my business tax records. I'm not typing from it just yet... it's still in its packaging and I am hesitant to open it when I have to teach in just another hour or so. I would much rather wait until I have ample time to introduce myself to it properly, figure out its quirks, and start transferring stuff over. Let's face it: in the midst of a move and a new computer, it may be another three weeks before I am fully functional again.
More later. Mom just rolled in...
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