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I'm just trying to view my journal entries from the archives, and I can't find the right thing to click!!! Looks like I'm going to have to post this in order to see the journal itself. Grrrrrrrrr!
October 9th, 2008
October 8th, 2008
I discovered Pete had used band funds and booked BJ and Sean a flight to LGB on Friday. Not a cheap fare, either. However, they'll get down there for sure. BJ is already listed for a return flight on buddy passes.
Sean was very grateful at band practice last night. I haven't decided if I like someone being beholden to me or not.
It was another of those 19 hour days, and by the time the 17th hour rolled around (band practice), I was in a fog. We were in the "balcony" at Highland HS, a long narrow room, probably about 8 yards across the short way, with folded-up bleachers along one long side and huge doors to a gymnasium on the other. It was pretty poor for acoustics, but great for marching, so that is what we did.
By 7:30 I was hurting, and playing wrong notes on tunes I could play in my sleep. In fact, I WAS playing them in my sleep. I don't play them very well, sleeping, but I get lots of the notes right. Not enough to make the PM happy, however, so at the break at 8:15 I requested to be able to go home. Sean was quick to excuse me, and thanked me again.
The best part was as I was leaving, everybody--and I mean EVERYBODY--said good-bye to me. It made me very happy to hear them. Warmed my heart, you might say. It hit me that these people are my friends. I see them at least once a week. We know each other's weaknesses and strong points. We've sweated through numerous competitions and other adventures together. But mostly, their real lives don't exist for me: families, homes, jobs, etc.
It sure took a long time to earn their friendship. I remember at least 2 years when the only people who talked to me were Dennis, because he was my instructor and even then he only said 'hi', and Pete. And sometimes Jack. 'Course, I was an atrocious player.
Now that they all speak to me, I try very hard to speak to all the new people consistently, more than just 'hi', draw them into the conversation. Drew and Lee are two I can think of. I saw Heather, who is not practicing with the band yet, still just doing lessons, at Olive Garden last week. I gave her a hug and asked how piping was going. She was waitressing, so she didn't have lots of time, but I made it clear I was waiting for her to show up to practice one of these days.
I hope I am making the band a better place.
Sean was very grateful at band practice last night. I haven't decided if I like someone being beholden to me or not.
It was another of those 19 hour days, and by the time the 17th hour rolled around (band practice), I was in a fog. We were in the "balcony" at Highland HS, a long narrow room, probably about 8 yards across the short way, with folded-up bleachers along one long side and huge doors to a gymnasium on the other. It was pretty poor for acoustics, but great for marching, so that is what we did.
By 7:30 I was hurting, and playing wrong notes on tunes I could play in my sleep. In fact, I WAS playing them in my sleep. I don't play them very well, sleeping, but I get lots of the notes right. Not enough to make the PM happy, however, so at the break at 8:15 I requested to be able to go home. Sean was quick to excuse me, and thanked me again.
The best part was as I was leaving, everybody--and I mean EVERYBODY--said good-bye to me. It made me very happy to hear them. Warmed my heart, you might say. It hit me that these people are my friends. I see them at least once a week. We know each other's weaknesses and strong points. We've sweated through numerous competitions and other adventures together. But mostly, their real lives don't exist for me: families, homes, jobs, etc.
It sure took a long time to earn their friendship. I remember at least 2 years when the only people who talked to me were Dennis, because he was my instructor and even then he only said 'hi', and Pete. And sometimes Jack. 'Course, I was an atrocious player.
Now that they all speak to me, I try very hard to speak to all the new people consistently, more than just 'hi', draw them into the conversation. Drew and Lee are two I can think of. I saw Heather, who is not practicing with the band yet, still just doing lessons, at Olive Garden last week. I gave her a hug and asked how piping was going. She was waitressing, so she didn't have lots of time, but I made it clear I was waiting for her to show up to practice one of these days.
I hope I am making the band a better place.
hopefulOctober 7th, 2008
The Chief Drummer Dude of Grade III, BJ, and JTDunnie's PM, Sean, have been invited/permitted to practice and play with the LA Scots (in L.A. . . . you know. California?) Every couple of weeks they go to LA for the weekend. We got to vote on whether they could go or not, because they would be enrolled as members of the LA Scots so they would not be able to play with the SL Scots (except as an instructor). I was wondering how they were getting down there. I don't know how BJ is set up, but Sean is a student, the same age as D#1, and works at the State Liquor Store, so he can't be doing much more than hand to mouth to Westminster College, so he can't be financially able to buy round-trip tickets to LA every month.
So I got an email from BJ asking if they could use some buddy passes to get there. I had assumed they were driving down there so they had a car to get around. Guess not. Luckily for them, D#2 didn't get married after all and family did not come out, so I still have plenty of passes, and I sent them some. Sean didn't get his email so he called last night and I gave him the info. He seemed really grateful. I am happy I could help. I don't think this will help my playing at all (I wish), but it helps out the band.
We moved the Sleeping Couch upstairs--through the window--yesterday. We set up the step ladder, on top of which we laid the 20 foot ladder from next door, reaching from the ground to the (upstairs) family room window (from which we had removed the screen and window). We tied a rope around the couch the long way, leaned it long-ways against the 20' ladder and HH and I pushed from below while D's #1 and 3 and SS pulled from above, with the rope anchored around the railing. When HH and I had pushed it up as far as we could reach, I ran upstairs and helped the kids to pull it in through the window.
So I got an email from BJ asking if they could use some buddy passes to get there. I had assumed they were driving down there so they had a car to get around. Guess not. Luckily for them, D#2 didn't get married after all and family did not come out, so I still have plenty of passes, and I sent them some. Sean didn't get his email so he called last night and I gave him the info. He seemed really grateful. I am happy I could help. I don't think this will help my playing at all (I wish), but it helps out the band.
We moved the Sleeping Couch upstairs--through the window--yesterday. We set up the step ladder, on top of which we laid the 20 foot ladder from next door, reaching from the ground to the (upstairs) family room window (from which we had removed the screen and window). We tied a rope around the couch the long way, leaned it long-ways against the 20' ladder and HH and I pushed from below while D's #1 and 3 and SS pulled from above, with the rope anchored around the railing. When HH and I had pushed it up as far as we could reach, I ran upstairs and helped the kids to pull it in through the window.
Yes, it did fit.
We neglected to pull the ladder down so the tops didn't dig into the couch when it was passing through the window. So they did dig in and ripped the upholstery a little. I hope we didn't release the spell. It doesn't really matter about the rips because we have had a cover over that couch for almost a year. I am glad that didn't happen to the new couch. The new arrangement of couch pieces in the family room makes the room look much bigger. I like it. I got up early to put the clean cover back on.
The only drawback is that I can't put clean clothes on the back of the couch in personal piles anymore. I sorted some onto the floor, but they picked up some of our pet hair collection. I know that's not going to fly with the Fashion Police Officer.
Only one injury: I pinched my fingers in trying to extend the extendable step ladder. Nobody was crushed by a falling couch.
October 2nd, 2008
Tuesday we had a 2 hour practice. On pipes. No wimpy PC's for us. And I didn't have to ice my lip, and it didn't swell up! I don't know why this should happen, as Practicing and I haven't been too chummy lately.
I'm beginning to suspect I have one (or more) leaks in my bag and I'm afraid to look.
I can't access my email any more at work. It tells me I'm not authorized to view this page. Ever since I got that stupid email from the mystery callers people at work, this has happened. So I don't have access to any work emails right now. Plus, now I can't even pull up new Internet Explorer thingys, so I hope I don't need anything new until IT opens at 7am. Three hours! Ugh! What is wrong with this computer?!
My friend Jean finally came home from the hospital. I don't know what condition she's in as I haven't been over there. But at least she's back in the neighborhood.
I started the work for the Egg Man last night.
I will explain.
When we lived in Glencoe, there was an old gentleman who came around and asked for empty egg cartons. These he would take away to some local farm, fill with farm-fresh eggs and return them to you and only charge 50 cents. They were good eggs. He was a good egg. I don't know how he survived on that. Anyway, our family got to know him. His name was Henry. He and his wife lived vaguely over there, a couple of blocks away (anybody in town lived a couple of blocks away, it was that small of a town). They had no children, and were retired from farming. Henry the Egg Man came around every week, rain or snow. I always invited him in to have a sample of whatever I was baking, and take some home to his wife, Emma, too.
Then suddenly in Feburary 1999 he stopped coming. I didn't know exactly which house was his, nor did I know his last name, so I couldn't go hunt him down.
After a couple of months he came back, but completely changed. He had lost weight. His clothes were shabby and worn. There was pain written all over his face. I invited him in, as usual, but when I offered him some muffins to take to his wife, he started to cry. She had passed away in February. He had no one else, no children or parents or siblings. Every corner of his apartment reminded Henry of her, so he tried to stay away from it as much as he could. But this was winter in Minnesota, going and staying well below zero for weeks at a time, so that wasn't a valid option sometimes. I gave him rides whenever I saw him around town, but if you don't want to go home, getting a ride home is not something you really appreciate.
After a family council, we decided to offer Henry our back room to live in. He accepted, and moved in, but he still wandered around town a lot. After staying with us for a few months, he got an offer from some distant cousins to visit them. So he packed a small bag and went to visit. While there, he was helping to repair a roof, fell off it and broke his back. He was in the hopsital in Glencoe, and I went to see him several times and brought him chocolate (his favorite), but in less than a week, he died. I think he just gave up on life.
So, with no sibs or children, there was nobody to do his work, seal him to his dear wife, etc, etc. I know how he longed to be with her again. I was waiting for Daughter #2 to get the info collected, cuz she said she wanted to. But it didn't happen. So last night, after 9 years, I finally went and got his info into a file. Soon, Henry. I'm sorry it took so long.
I'm beginning to suspect I have one (or more) leaks in my bag and I'm afraid to look.
I can't access my email any more at work. It tells me I'm not authorized to view this page. Ever since I got that stupid email from the mystery callers people at work, this has happened. So I don't have access to any work emails right now. Plus, now I can't even pull up new Internet Explorer thingys, so I hope I don't need anything new until IT opens at 7am. Three hours! Ugh! What is wrong with this computer?!
My friend Jean finally came home from the hospital. I don't know what condition she's in as I haven't been over there. But at least she's back in the neighborhood.
I started the work for the Egg Man last night.
I will explain.
When we lived in Glencoe, there was an old gentleman who came around and asked for empty egg cartons. These he would take away to some local farm, fill with farm-fresh eggs and return them to you and only charge 50 cents. They were good eggs. He was a good egg. I don't know how he survived on that. Anyway, our family got to know him. His name was Henry. He and his wife lived vaguely over there, a couple of blocks away (anybody in town lived a couple of blocks away, it was that small of a town). They had no children, and were retired from farming. Henry the Egg Man came around every week, rain or snow. I always invited him in to have a sample of whatever I was baking, and take some home to his wife, Emma, too.
Then suddenly in Feburary 1999 he stopped coming. I didn't know exactly which house was his, nor did I know his last name, so I couldn't go hunt him down.
After a couple of months he came back, but completely changed. He had lost weight. His clothes were shabby and worn. There was pain written all over his face. I invited him in, as usual, but when I offered him some muffins to take to his wife, he started to cry. She had passed away in February. He had no one else, no children or parents or siblings. Every corner of his apartment reminded Henry of her, so he tried to stay away from it as much as he could. But this was winter in Minnesota, going and staying well below zero for weeks at a time, so that wasn't a valid option sometimes. I gave him rides whenever I saw him around town, but if you don't want to go home, getting a ride home is not something you really appreciate.
After a family council, we decided to offer Henry our back room to live in. He accepted, and moved in, but he still wandered around town a lot. After staying with us for a few months, he got an offer from some distant cousins to visit them. So he packed a small bag and went to visit. While there, he was helping to repair a roof, fell off it and broke his back. He was in the hopsital in Glencoe, and I went to see him several times and brought him chocolate (his favorite), but in less than a week, he died. I think he just gave up on life.
So, with no sibs or children, there was nobody to do his work, seal him to his dear wife, etc, etc. I know how he longed to be with her again. I was waiting for Daughter #2 to get the info collected, cuz she said she wanted to. But it didn't happen. So last night, after 9 years, I finally went and got his info into a file. Soon, Henry. I'm sorry it took so long.
September 30th, 2008
Sometimes, despite your best efforts and good intentions, charity faileth.
We have a woman in our neighborhood who is (probably) dying of uterine cancer, as her mother did before her. She's had 2/3 of her large intestine removed due to cancer. and she really can't keep food in her system. The only other person at home is her husband, who is not a cook. So she has asked that we send food over, enough for one person, two times a week, to keep him away from the fast food joints and help him keep his weight down. How hard is that?
Monday it was my turn. I totally forgot, until 6pm. After we had eaten.
Luckily, we had some left over, so I quick hurried home and set up a plate of chicken and peas and cole slaw and chocolate cake with strawberries on top. It all fit into a plastic container with dividers and a lid.
Next problem: no car. Not really a problem, since she lives about 7 blocks away from me. I could walk, but that would delay dinner for him by half an hour more., and it's already 6:30. Biking would be faster. I put the plate in my "glove compartment" (on top of the gloves) and rode over there in about 2 minutes. However, my "glove compartment" is only 4 or 5 inches wide, not wide enough to hold the plate flat. So when I got to their house, all the chicken had slid into the chocolate cake (which was very moist and soft) and mixed thoroughly.
He declared that chocolate chicken was his favorite green vegetable, but I bet he washed off the chicken after I left.
At least it was food, and not fast food.
I hope you get points for trying.
We have a woman in our neighborhood who is (probably) dying of uterine cancer, as her mother did before her. She's had 2/3 of her large intestine removed due to cancer. and she really can't keep food in her system. The only other person at home is her husband, who is not a cook. So she has asked that we send food over, enough for one person, two times a week, to keep him away from the fast food joints and help him keep his weight down. How hard is that?
Monday it was my turn. I totally forgot, until 6pm. After we had eaten.
Luckily, we had some left over, so I quick hurried home and set up a plate of chicken and peas and cole slaw and chocolate cake with strawberries on top. It all fit into a plastic container with dividers and a lid.
Next problem: no car. Not really a problem, since she lives about 7 blocks away from me. I could walk, but that would delay dinner for him by half an hour more., and it's already 6:30. Biking would be faster. I put the plate in my "glove compartment" (on top of the gloves) and rode over there in about 2 minutes. However, my "glove compartment" is only 4 or 5 inches wide, not wide enough to hold the plate flat. So when I got to their house, all the chicken had slid into the chocolate cake (which was very moist and soft) and mixed thoroughly.
He declared that chocolate chicken was his favorite green vegetable, but I bet he washed off the chicken after I left.
At least it was food, and not fast food.
I hope you get points for trying.
September 25th, 2008
Some days you wonder if you'll survive to the end. Yesterday was one of those days.
For complicated logistical and employment reasons, I got up at 0230 and drove to Sandy to work from the center. I did my 10 hours, then had a 2 hour team meeting and drove home. Made dinner. Ate dinner. Cleaned up after dinner. Took Small Son to Scouts. RS Presidency meeting--without Jean who is still in hospital, but her rash IS clearing up. Read Eldest to Small Son. Bed at 2030. Eighteen hours.
The only thing that kept me going was Robin McKinley's latest book, Chalice, which I just got in the mail on Tuesday and read every spare minute. It kept me awake and focused on the future--i.e. the next time I would get a break and be able to read some more--instead of feeling sorry for how tired I was. It worked. It was a great story, but I'm going to have to read it again when I'm not so tired (and after Daughter #1 has finished it). I did not get into the character of Marisol as much as with Harimad-sol in Blue Sword, but the bees were so entertaining, and I feel like eating honey now. Maybe I just have less in common with Marisol than I did with Hari. Maybe I was just too tired.
We've given up trying to figure out a way to get the new couch into the (upstairs) family room, and are going to keep the sectional up there, much to Daughter #2's dismay. It will not fit 'round the corner at the bottom of the stairs unless we saw it in half. Plans to move it through the front window upstairs included a 20 foot ladder, a step-ladder, a sled, 600 fee of rope, and 8 people. Pulleys would have been helpful, too. We'll just move the new couch and loveseat into the living room downstairs and give the Sleeping Couch* to a needy family. I bet the Christmas tree would look cool in the middle of the room, in the center of the two. 'Course, conversation would be awkward during the Christmas season . . .
I wonder if the new couch has a spell on it.
* The spell on the Sleeping Couch is that if you sit on it for 10 minutes or longer, you WILL fall asleep. This spell works on everybody, even my "let's-find-something-to-do" mother-in-law. It especially works on me.
For complicated logistical and employment reasons, I got up at 0230 and drove to Sandy to work from the center. I did my 10 hours, then had a 2 hour team meeting and drove home. Made dinner. Ate dinner. Cleaned up after dinner. Took Small Son to Scouts. RS Presidency meeting--without Jean who is still in hospital, but her rash IS clearing up. Read Eldest to Small Son. Bed at 2030. Eighteen hours.
The only thing that kept me going was Robin McKinley's latest book, Chalice, which I just got in the mail on Tuesday and read every spare minute. It kept me awake and focused on the future--i.e. the next time I would get a break and be able to read some more--instead of feeling sorry for how tired I was. It worked. It was a great story, but I'm going to have to read it again when I'm not so tired (and after Daughter #1 has finished it). I did not get into the character of Marisol as much as with Harimad-sol in Blue Sword, but the bees were so entertaining, and I feel like eating honey now. Maybe I just have less in common with Marisol than I did with Hari. Maybe I was just too tired.
We've given up trying to figure out a way to get the new couch into the (upstairs) family room, and are going to keep the sectional up there, much to Daughter #2's dismay. It will not fit 'round the corner at the bottom of the stairs unless we saw it in half. Plans to move it through the front window upstairs included a 20 foot ladder, a step-ladder, a sled, 600 fee of rope, and 8 people. Pulleys would have been helpful, too. We'll just move the new couch and loveseat into the living room downstairs and give the Sleeping Couch* to a needy family. I bet the Christmas tree would look cool in the middle of the room, in the center of the two. 'Course, conversation would be awkward during the Christmas season . . .
I wonder if the new couch has a spell on it.
* The spell on the Sleeping Couch is that if you sit on it for 10 minutes or longer, you WILL fall asleep. This spell works on everybody, even my "let's-find-something-to-do" mother-in-law. It especially works on me.
tiredFirst quarter mid-term grades came out at the local high school today.
I was very afraid.
Daughter #3 is a freshman there this year. A freshman with a learning/social disability. And if you do anything in high school, it's learn and socialize. I was mentally trying to prepare myself for terrible grades.
I know I'm going to get the actual titles of the classes wrong, but basically here's what she got:
Math C
English B
Science B
Sewing B
Geography A
Art A
Chinese A
All her teachers were delighted with her performance in class: she participates, arrives every day and on time, turns in all her work. Seems she has a gift for languages, too. Her Chinese teacher says she is doing beautifully! When we walked up to the teacher, D#3 greeted her in Chinese, the teacher responded back and asked a question, and D#3 answered. I was very impressed!
Her Math teacher discussed ways she could bring up her grade and increase her understanding of the subject. She was embarassed that she made so many mistakes. We explained to her that everybody makes mistakes, and the only bad mistake is one you don't learn from. If you go back and say, "Oh! That's what I did wrong!" and go back and fix it, you erased the mistake, as if it never happened! I hope she got it. I hope she acts on it.
Lesson today was one of those days when I played beautifully (despite being dead dog bone tired). The bag stayed inflated, instead of leaking air out of mysterious and invisible holes that only exist some of the time. I got all the notes right. So it was a pleasure to play. Still have to work on High Road to Linton and Donald MacLean of Lewis, my nemeses (if that's a word). High Road is actually coming along quite well. Don MacLean I'm still having trouble with the gen-den-yen that happens every line. And I don't have them memorized yet.
I was very afraid.
Daughter #3 is a freshman there this year. A freshman with a learning/social disability. And if you do anything in high school, it's learn and socialize. I was mentally trying to prepare myself for terrible grades.
I know I'm going to get the actual titles of the classes wrong, but basically here's what she got:
Math C
English B
Science B
Sewing B
Geography A
Art A
Chinese A
All her teachers were delighted with her performance in class: she participates, arrives every day and on time, turns in all her work. Seems she has a gift for languages, too. Her Chinese teacher says she is doing beautifully! When we walked up to the teacher, D#3 greeted her in Chinese, the teacher responded back and asked a question, and D#3 answered. I was very impressed!
Her Math teacher discussed ways she could bring up her grade and increase her understanding of the subject. She was embarassed that she made so many mistakes. We explained to her that everybody makes mistakes, and the only bad mistake is one you don't learn from. If you go back and say, "Oh! That's what I did wrong!" and go back and fix it, you erased the mistake, as if it never happened! I hope she got it. I hope she acts on it.
Lesson today was one of those days when I played beautifully (despite being dead dog bone tired). The bag stayed inflated, instead of leaking air out of mysterious and invisible holes that only exist some of the time. I got all the notes right. So it was a pleasure to play. Still have to work on High Road to Linton and Donald MacLean of Lewis, my nemeses (if that's a word). High Road is actually coming along quite well. Don MacLean I'm still having trouble with the gen-den-yen that happens every line. And I don't have them memorized yet.
September 19th, 2008
From Rauncie Kinnaird, on tuning pipes . . .
Tuning the Chanter
Sound the low A on your chanter and note where it is tuning on the meter. Adjust the calibration buttons until your low A reads "0" on the meter. The green tuning light will come on when your meter is in tune with low A. Use the meter notes and offsets from "0" in the following table to tune the other notes of the chanter. Ensure that the meter is reading the correct "note" which will show up in the top right corner of the tuner. Notes "C" and "F" show up as "C#" and "F#" on the tuner. The first column is the Note. Second column is the ratio to Low A. Third column is the Meter Note. Fourth column is the Meter Offset.
Low G_________7/8 ___G____-31
Low A__________ 1____A____ 0
B_____________ 9/8___B____+4
C_____________5/4___C___ -14
D_____________4/3___D____ -2
E_____________3/2___E ____+2
F_____________5/3___F#___-16
High G_________7/4___G___-31
High A_________2/1___A_____0
Tenor Drone____1/2____A____0
Bass Drone_____1/4___A_____0
Thought I'd save this somewhere besides my brain, which isn't very reliable.
Robin McKinley's Chalice came out yesterday. I'm very excited to jump into it. So why am I still reading Terry Pratchett? I hate to leave a project unfinished, and I didn't finish this one, Thief of Time, once before. So I have to finish it this time.
Tuning the Chanter
Sound the low A on your chanter and note where it is tuning on the meter. Adjust the calibration buttons until your low A reads "0" on the meter. The green tuning light will come on when your meter is in tune with low A. Use the meter notes and offsets from "0" in the following table to tune the other notes of the chanter. Ensure that the meter is reading the correct "note" which will show up in the top right corner of the tuner. Notes "C" and "F" show up as "C#" and "F#" on the tuner. The first column is the Note. Second column is the ratio to Low A. Third column is the Meter Note. Fourth column is the Meter Offset.
Low G_________7/8 ___G____-31
Low A__________ 1____A____ 0
B_____________ 9/8___B____+4
C_____________5/4___C___ -14
D_____________4/3___D____ -2
E_____________3/2___E ____+2
F_____________5/3___F#___-16
High G_________7/4___G___-31
High A_________2/1___A_____0
Tenor Drone____1/2____A____0
Bass Drone_____1/4___A_____0
If the top hand is sharp compared to the bottom hand, lift the reed slightly out of the chanter to bring the pitch of the top hand down. Add some hemp to the reed if necessary. If the top hand is flat to the bottom hand sink the reed further into the chanter. This will bring up the pitch of the top hand relative to the bottom hand. To flatten individual notes, add a piece of tape to cover the top of the first open hole on the chanter. Sharpening individual notes requires modification to the chanter reed or chanter and should only be done by experienced players.
Tuning the Drones
The drones are tuned to the low A on the pipe chanter. Sound low A on your chanter and adjust the calibration button until the meter reads "0". Adjust the tuning on each of your drones until they are reading "0" on the meter also.
Thought I'd save this somewhere besides my brain, which isn't very reliable.
Robin McKinley's Chalice came out yesterday. I'm very excited to jump into it. So why am I still reading Terry Pratchett? I hate to leave a project unfinished, and I didn't finish this one, Thief of Time, once before. So I have to finish it this time.
September 16th, 2008
At band practice, Pete got . . . called? appointed? assigned? . . . to be the Pipe Sargent. This means he is the second-in-command of the Grade IV/J.T.Dunnies. I'm perfectly content with this. Sean is going to be playing with the LA Scots and going to school and working and teaching, so I think his plate is full enough without band practice. Pete has always been very kind to everybody, even to me when I was a newbie and nobody else even looked at me. He's been in the band the longest.
I found out that Sean is the same age as Daughter #1. Aaaaaaagh! I could be his mother, and he's leader of the band! He started piping at age 12. Small Son was interested to know this, since he's starting at age 9.
Past history: On Sunday at Regional Conference, we happened to sit in front of Carleton Christensen (running for Utah Senate against Luz Robles) and family. He handed me a list of plants and said his brother runs a nursery and he planted too many last spring and was going to throw the excess out. However. His wife, Sister Christensen, is a member of the No More Homeless Plants group and wouldn't let him. They were giving the plants away to good homes on Monday night. I have been thinking about planting some more color on the boulevard, so I went over there and got about 15. They are now happily (I hope) ensconced and I hope they survive. I'm terrible with plants. When they die, which happens about 50% of the time, I cry over them. I can't put flowers on their graves, because those would just die, too.
I found out that Sean is the same age as Daughter #1. Aaaaaaagh! I could be his mother, and he's leader of the band! He started piping at age 12. Small Son was interested to know this, since he's starting at age 9.
Past history: On Sunday at Regional Conference, we happened to sit in front of Carleton Christensen (running for Utah Senate against Luz Robles) and family. He handed me a list of plants and said his brother runs a nursery and he planted too many last spring and was going to throw the excess out. However. His wife, Sister Christensen, is a member of the No More Homeless Plants group and wouldn't let him. They were giving the plants away to good homes on Monday night. I have been thinking about planting some more color on the boulevard, so I went over there and got about 15. They are now happily (I hope) ensconced and I hope they survive. I'm terrible with plants. When they die, which happens about 50% of the time, I cry over them. I can't put flowers on their graves, because those would just die, too.
September 12th, 2008
I agreed to do a gig for . . . well, it was either for the US Army or the City of Sandy . . . for 9/11 at a place called the Healing Field. The other two pipers who showed up were Ian and Aaron. About 1700 flags had been set up in a grassy median, each one tied with a yellow ribbon. It was an amazing sight. Let me see if I can get a link.
www.healingfield.org/
They had the little memorial of boots and an upturned rifle stuck into the ground with a helmet on top. This was set up at one side of . . . well, there wasn't a stage, just a designated center of attention . . . The mothers came up and put their childrens' dogtags on the rifle. They did a roll call, calling off the names of some of the soldiers present, and the last name called was the soldier who had died 6 days ago, Jordan Thiebault. His name was called several times. There was no answering "present!" I was trying hard not to cry. The Thiebault family had been the last to add dogtags. They stayed up there, close together, while a soldier came forward in front of the boots-and-rifle memorial, knelt and bowed his head. That was our cue to start Amazing Grace.
I did good. I was successfully able to do the slow roll strike in several times, in unison with Ian and Aaron. I didn't mess up the tunes. We had expected to be out of tune after standing in the wind for so long, but the tuning was pretty good, except for the D. My blowing was good. And I made both cut-offs.
Then I had to rush to the Celtic Center for the last half of my lesson and to pick up Small Son who was patiently waiting after his own lesson and reading his book, Sea of Monsters, by Rick Riordan.
Jason had a headache and was tied with a short string. Pete teased him that his forehead was bulging. It made him laugh, but I don't think it made his headache feel any better.
