Straight Out of a Romantic Painting

We took the house! It was just too charming to pass up. (This picture is not actually it, but it sure does look like it, foliage and all.) We'll be able to get in to start painting in a couple of weeks. It's cozy, but not cramped and, although the bedrooms are smaller than we'd like, we can make it work. Besides, the layout is perfect for us and the actual living area is pretty roomy for a cottage. And it's clean and has been well cared for. Here are some of its selling features:

• Nice, old-fashioned front porch that's large enough for friends to hang out on summer evenings and watch fireflies.
• A great house to decorate for Christmas!
• Living and dining rooms are divided by two columns like this one, so it looks extra spacious.
  
• Bay windows in master bedroom (with window seat), dining room (with built in planter), and master bath.
  
• One story!
• Large corner lot with old trees and mature shrubs and flowers.
• Lots of large windows throughout - the kind that clear the floor by about 6".
• Newly remodeled eat-in kitchen with loads of new cupboard and pantry space.
• Large laundry closet.
• Privacy between the bedrooms. Each bedroom has a bathroom between it and the next bedroom.
  
• Large master bath with large shower, and one of these in the bay window!
• Walk-in closets. Imagine that in an old house.
• The two other bedrooms share a private bath.
• Large two-car garage with independent automatic doors.
• Garage has one of the best workbench areas I've ever seen, complete with drawers and cupboards.
• The owner was really pleased with us. He said he doesn't usually allow people to paint and make improvements, but he was happy that we wanted to.

I wish it had a fireplace and I wish we could pull up the carpet to reveal the hardwood floors, but right now I'm just happy to have found a place! Now that this phase is over, I can let this knot is my gut unravel. All that's left now is the application process.

Thank you all so much for being so patient with me over the past few months. Your friendship and your words of encouragement mean more than I can say.

So, what do you think we should name it? Ideas?

My Current Project

My opera - hundreds of pages!

The Count Down

With only 31 days remaining before we say goodbye to our home of five years, the hunt for a new one is stepping up. We haven't had the greatest luck, although this town is full of rentals. The problem is, most of those that are in our price range are either student tenements or white trash pigsties, and the houses that were nice have been snatched away from us for a variety of reasons.

We looked at two last evening. The first one had all the space we need and was the right price, but it was downright filthy from its foundation. The second one was in the neighborhood we really love, and was in good shape. It too had all we needed, but it felt so cramped that I couldn't wait to get back outside. Besides, the owner, an elderly man, lives across the street from the house and made it known that he did all the gardening, front and back. That means he'd be over all the time. I don't know about you, but I don't like living with a landlord.

Today at noon we're looking at a cute, yellow and white Victorian cottage with a darling front porch and loads of charm. It has the number of rooms we need, but I fear they might be really tiny. We'll see. Right now, I just want the security of knowing that a house is secured and waiting for us to start moving in. This not knowing where we'll be sleeping by this time next month is making me crazy.

Remember... Remember...

Sometimes, it takes every last ounce of strength that I have left.

Lazy

I've been dressed and doing the family thing from Thursday night, and I've enjoyed every minute of it. It's been a really terrific weekend. And now, I'm claiming the rest of the day for myself. Here is my theme song for the remainder of the weekend. Enjoy:

We Are Geeks

We spent Nettl's birthday with our family and with music. Lauren drove up from OU to spend the weekend, and it's great having her home. She gave Nettl a DVD of Covent Garden's 2003 production of Mozart's Die Zauberflöte (The Magic Flute), and we watched it almost immediately.

Those of you who know me very well know that this is my absolute favorite opera and that I've seen it many, many times, both recorded and live. I've seen great, good, and not so good performances and I can safely tell you that this one is now my favorite. For one thing, the ensemble was carefully cast so that their voices worked well with each other. And none of the actors had tinkly little voices, they were all full and rich. For a second thing, it was directed in such a way as to bring out the more esoteric essence of the story. For those who aren't familiar with Die Zauberflöte, it was written to be understood on three levels. First, there is the fairytale, which Mozart and the his collaborators intended so that the common people could enjoy the opera. Second, there is the political allegory of the spirit of revolution that was in the air in 1791. And third, there is the Masonic symbolism that acts as the dark matter that holds the three strata together.

That said, I can confess that I really appreciated Simon Keenlyside's Papageno, who was played more like an "every man" than the clown he usually is. Don't get me wrong. I adore the little feath withered buffoon, but this Papageno was more like the rest of us. I especially liked the duck hat he wore (no to mention the way he flipped off one of the priests), but it was ultimately his baritone voice that impressed me most, and this comes from someone who is staunchly loyal to Thomas Allen, who sang the role of the Speaker in this production. I've seen Sir Allen live as Count Almaviva (Le nozze di Figaro) and he's the best. What was wonderful was hearing how true his voice still was in 2003 at the age of 60. He has lost absolutely no quality; he's still as powerful and true as he was 25 years ago.

Although I don't intend this entry to be a review, I cannot write about this production without mentioning Diana Damrau who sang the Queen of the Night. Wow! She was absolutely flawless. Many people think that those high F's are the hardest part of her grand aria, Der Hölle Rache, but they're not. While they're certainly the showiest, by far the most difficult passages are those long melismas and "turn arounds". Most singers slide around them, but Damrau hit every 16th note head on, and clearly. She is now the ideal Königen in my estimation. I don't know how anyone can top that, because I don't think anyone can sing her two arias more perfectly. I'd love to tell you about the other principals, but as I said, this isn't intended to be a review.

After the opera we went downstairs, where I made the dinner Nettl wanted: my special hamburgers, corn on the cob, and ranch style beans. We sat around the table laughing and talking. Man, I love my family! I'd made a coconut birthday cake topped with slivered almonds, so some of us had a slice while some of us waited until later. After cleaning up the kitchen, I came back upstrairs where Nettl was watching the opera again! I lay down and napped through Act I, and then we spent Act II sitting on the bed, singing along with the score that I held in my lap. We LOVE reading scores, and reading through Zauberflöte together, and singing the parts, was great fun.

Yeah, we're geeks.

She...

Because today is Nettl's birthday I want to post an updated version of something I posted a few years ago, but that I know my newer readers didn't see. I cannot imagine who I'd be, where I'd be, or what the hell I'd be doing if she hadn't found me.

She...
is extremely talented.
has class, style and elegance. Rare qualities these days.
has a musical laugh.
is compassionate.
always sides with the underdog.
has a sexy mouth.
can be blunt.
is very intelligent.
has great tenacity.
makes me laugh.
understands me, and that’s not always easy.
loves me anyway.
has a singing voice like chocolate velvet.
claps her hands when she laughs.
gets more beautiful with age.
is a natural blond.
is strong.
is vulnerable and can be naïve.
has CHARISMA.
looks like a child when she sleeps.
is a hard worker.
detests any kind of bigotry.
is pure sunshine when she’s happy.
is a deep, dark river when she’s not.
is a fabulous actor.
is an amazing opera singer.
is a ham.
is shy.
is a pirate.
is determined.
makes me a better person.
saved me from certain madness.
is nurturing.
is generous.
looks striking in black.
is sexy.
looks like Marilyn Monroe at certain angles.
is kind to me.
is deeply spiritual.
is an avid historian.
always wanted to be a blues mama.
doesn’t have the hard edge that takes.
is a wonderful mother.
is a terrific friend.
likes to talk about herself.
likes to listen to others talk about themselves.
is the walking embodiment of my perfect mate.
believes we have spent many lives together.
wants to spend all the rest with me as well.
She will.

Happy Birthday, my Love!

For Those Who Think Classical Music is Stuffy

Below is a snippet of a recording of a piece by the 26 year-old Mozart. It is a 3-part canon (round) that he composed to sing with his friends while partying. It was probably an exercise in 3-part canon composition because he wrote a couple more like it, one that is pretty long. The title, Leck mich im Arsch, translates to, literally, lick me in the ass, but its sentiment is more like, kiss my ass. Below the YouTube screen you will find the words, first in German, then in English.

Leck mich im Arsch!
Lasst uns froh sein!
Murren ist vergebens!
Knurren, Brummen ist vergebens,
ist das wahre Kreuz des Lebens.
Drum lasst uns froh und fröhlich sein!

(Lick me in the ass!

Let us be glad!

Complaining is in vain!
Growling, grumbling is in vain,
is the true cross of life.

Therefore, let us be glad and merry!)

Thank you Merisi, for the translation of murren, knurren and brummen!

Getting a New Story

Are You Making Excuses Instead of Pursuing Your Dream?
Source:  The Art Of Sensitive Living Blog

I‘ve been hearing an awful lot of excuses lately.

• “It’s always been this way for me, so I can’t do it any differently.”
• “I don’t know how.”
• “I’m not qualified to do that” or it’s slightly better version, “I’m not qualified to do that yet.”
• “I can’t do it where I live.”
• “I don’t have enough time.”
• “I have to support my family, so I can’t take the risk of starting a new business."
• “No one will want what I have to offer.”
  

In the deliciously parallel way the world operates, I can relate, because as I’m exploring new directions for my own life and work, some VERY interesting excuses are coming up. I know it’s just my fearful ego-mind and my gremlins saying, “No, no! Run away! Change is not safe! What are you thinking?!”

The problem is that we allow these excuses to stop us dead in our tracks from pursuing our dreams. Sure, these naysayer messages will come up. But it’s our choice to decide whether we listen or not.

Remember, these excuses are like a code — if we pay attention, they point us to what’s really going on. We are afraid, and usually that we “aren’t good enough.” We’ve been trained to think that way by our less-than-supportive cultural model that programs for conformity.

Here are five tips to help you get your thinking-cap on straight:

1. The first step is awareness. Notice what you’re saying to yourself and other people about why you can’t do something. Is it REALLY true? Or is it just an excuse in disguise?
2. Appreciate your true brilliance. Learn to see how valuable, special, and important you really are. You have a unique take or approach to what it is you do, and there’s no one else like you.
3. Get a new story. It’s time to let go of all your limiting thinking and get a new story to tell. Aren’t you tired of listening to yourself saying the same things over and over again? Start telling a new story about how you are inspired to create the life you want, and even if you don’t know how yet, you’re determined to find the way to get there.
4. Find your courage. When I saw my teacher Sonia Choquette recently, she shared a story about the courageous heart of a mother lion, leading her cubs to an oasis,  looking neither left nor right at all the safari paparazzi around her, but focusing straight-ahead on her goal. Let your courageous heart guide you, let nothing deter you. Use your courage to focus only on where you want to go.
5. Wonder instead of making excuses. Any time you find yourself tempted to use an excuse, wonder instead. “Ask your intuition to run wild and free” (as astrologist Rob Brezney said recently) to help you discover your path. Say, “I WONDER how I can learn what I need to know,” and “I WONDER how I can create my dream successfully.”
   

Give up making excuses, and give yourself the chance to pursue your dreams.

Find a new way, find out how, get training, open your eyes to the possibilities, start small, but start now, plan, research, learn, transition, and find your true audience. (Want help claiming your dream? Join me for 30-minute “Dream Illumination” session. Click here to claim yours right now. Only 10 available.)

Pursue your dream. Remember: the world needs you, and all your brilliance, right now.

Disinsomnia

I've actually had two full nights of great sleep. I've been going to bed before 2:00, and it feels great. One of the reasons is that I've learned to resist the after-dinner nap. Another is not drinking iced tea after about 7:00. I don't know how long this will last—I've done it before—but for now, it feels pretty good.

It's been effing hot this week. Yesterday it got to 102°. That's too hot. Can't even use the hammock in that kind of heat.

To Live the Life Authentic

"I will live authentically, accepting blame for my mistakes as well as praise for my triumphs. Judge me if you will, but judge me for my dedication to living my own truth." - Steph Waller

Many years ago I had a dream in which I found myself in a room whose walls were lined with beautiful porcelain, hand-painted drainpipes that looked like they were made by Dresden. There were other facets to the dream that I won't go into here, but I always wondered what the drainpipes represented in the context of the dream. I knew that they symbolized channels and that their being so white and beautiful, with little flowers and cherubs painted on them, symbolized the need to keep my channels pure and free of debris. Still, I had no idea how to apply that to the specifics of the dream. I finally figured it out this past weekend. It has taken me nearly twenty-five years to do so.

I now realize that each drainpipe is a negativity that I harbor in my deepest recesses, those things that, like playing with a bad tooth, "hurt so good" and which I cannot leave alone. As these little epiphanies come to me, I'm writing them down so that I can name each drainpipe and clean the years of debris that has collected in it. This is the only way that I can be a clean channel, so to speak, to live a life of prosperity and joy without regret and without feeling unworthy.

The truth about judgmentalism is that it tells us more about the judge than it does the judged. How can I allow the shallow biases of people I hardly know destroy my happiness? Who are they anyway, and why should I care what they think or say about me? We should only listen to the words of people who care about us, because we will then attempt to live up to their good opinions. If we listen to people who don't care about us we fall further into the abyss of self-loathing and feelings of inadequacy.

I know that I have a great many issues that need to be dealt with, because there were a lot of drainpipes in that dream, but another part of it depicted great abundance, as well as joy and laughter without end.

The More We Judge, the Less We Love

This year's Celtic Festival was, to be kind, underwhelming. Maybe it's because we went on Sunday at about the time all of the church people in this town were converging upon Perkins, or maybe it was because it was Father's Day. Probably, it was both. There was a trio of musicians that was really very good though, and we had a lot of laughs making jokes about McChow's, meat pies, and "rocking the crosses" (you had to be there). After about an hour, Allen offered to treat us to lunch. He had a taste for barbecue, but can you believe that every BBQ place in town was closed on Father's Day? We decided to go to El Tapatio instead and we had a great time. Although I'd had only one hour of sleep, I made it through until the carbs started to hit me. When we came home, I took a two-hour nap. Later, I took another one.

It's been a particularly robust weekend, emotionally speaking. I've gone from the peak of exhilaration to the depth of disappointment, which is why I couldn't sleep. Now, I'm fairly exhausted.

I don't understand people who judge me and then write me off after spending a whopping 1 minute and 53 seconds checking me out on the web, forming preconceived notions about my character based solely on my beliefs or my sexual orientation. I'm a good and decent person, I try to do good and I do my best to treat people with respect and dignity. Sometimes I mess up, but liking and being liked is important to me. If someone chooses not to associate with me because of who I am, it hurts. I'm a social person and I absolutely love people. I've never understood people who close their hearts and minds behind concrete walls.

I've been an emotional punching bag for so long that now, even the smallest things can bring me down. And the past few years have been gruelingly difficult for Nettl and me; our defenses just aren't what they used to be. It's a constant struggle to keep my morale up, but I'm not a quitter, and I still believe that life has something amazing waiting for me. I'll get there.

Although I've been advised not to wear my heart on my sleeve in such a public and open space as a blog, I refuse to close off. This is my journal, if you will. If I felt that I had to keep my thoughts and feelings safely tucked away from both my readers and my critics, I'd quit blogging altogether.

Scots and Welsh and Irish, Oh My!

Today, we're all piling into the van, stopping by Dr. Kielbasa's to pick him up, and then we're going to the Oklahoma Celtic Music & Heritage Festival. Last year's was pretty cool. We heard some great music and looked at all the crafts. We also ran into J, tipped a Guinness or two, and talked with some shirt-tail kin from Nettl's Scottish clan. You know the guys. They're the ones who toss poles and chuck boulders around out in the field. I looked for some of my Irish clan, but the closest I came to finding any was the longhaired goats in the stables.

Anyway, this is my entry for Sunday. Have a great day!

20 Reasons Why I Love Jacey Ranae

In 2004 or 2005 Nettl invited a young woman over for some chat and wine. She'd met her at the cat clinic, where they worked together. Her name was Jacey Ranae (I often call her Racey Janae), and the minute I saw her, I felt that I knew her from somewhere long, long ago and that we were going to be very close. Since then, I have been proven correct, and I just want to share this special young woman with you, partly because last Thursday was her birthday.

I fell in love with Jacey the moment I saw her. I don't mean in the romantic sense. I don't "make friends", I fall in love. There are many different kinds of love, after all.

Here are some reasons why I love my Jacey.

1. She loves me unconditionally. In fact, she eggs me on to act out whenever possible.
   
2. She is an "animal whisperer". She speaks every language and dialect in the animal world.
   
3. (I personally believe she's an animal psychic.)
   
4. She is like a third daughter in my heart.
5. She calls me "Wolfie" like our other daughters do.
6. She has a heart of gold.
7. She is unpredictable, but in a fascinating way.
8. She loves the Beatles as much as I do.
9. She was born on the same day as Paul McCartney, although a great number of years later.
10. Like Ville, she's a Gemini. I love Gemini women. As friends.
    
11. When she, V, and I get together, we are the Beatles.
12. She "gets" me.
13. She doesn't make a fuss about things.
14. Whenever she comes to our house for a party, she always brings me a bottle of champagne and won't let me share it with anyone.
15. She overcame and conquered bone marrow cancer when she was 12. That experience gave her a wisdom and a love of life that is beyond her years.
16. Being half-Italian, she brings great hors d'oeuvres to our parties.
17. Also being half-Italian, she takes care of the people she loves.
18. She takes sick and/or injured animals into her home and loves them back to health. Sometimes, all she can do is give them a lot of care and love until they pass on, which is even more noble and selfless, because I know it's painful for her.
19. She adores musicians, and cuts us a lot of slack.
20. Like me, she's a collector of colorful people and surrounds herself with interesting characters.

Jacey was even here for the party that was shown in a film I was in. In fact, she made quite a grand entrance for the camera, dressed like Audry Hepburn and carrying her one-eyed pirate cat, Pirate Jenni. The film crew adored her! Sadly, Pirate Jenni passed on a few months later, and I don't think that J will ever get over that loss. We all loved Pirate Jenni. You can read about her here. This picture was taken of them at the private screening party on January 27, 2006.






This is Ville and Jacey at the party that was seen in the film.

The friendship between us isn't one that requires hugs and kisses, constant contact, or reassurances. It runs deep and silent and just is. In fact, we've never spoken about this with each other and we probably never will. We don't have to. We just know.

I love you Baby Cakes!

The False Friend

Doppelganger

What if you could meet yourself? What if life got so difficult that another you popped out to handle the crap for you? I'm not talking about something as logical as multiple personality disorder, I'm talking about an actual double. I'm not even talking about a clone. I'm talking about a gen-u-ine doppelganger.

For some things it could be handy. You could send it to work while you slept in, for instance, or you could call on it to take over with the drudgery of life while you took off for Belize. That would be pretty cool.

But what about other things? What if it demanded to take over for you when you were too tired or stressed to have sex with the person you love? That wouldn't be cool. And what if it liked living your life so much that you got sucked into the place in your brain that it came from, taking over your life completely? Then YOU'D be the doppelganger. Oh, hey! What if you are the doppelganger? Yeah! And what if you're doing a lousy job and you can't remember exactly when you took over, but you really, really want to give the life back to the original?

I know how these things go. I've watched enough Fantasy Island. Having a doppelganger would be cool for a while, but then, like a lot of cool things, it would eventually turn on you and all you'd be left with is a moral lesson.

Hm. A doppleganger might not be such a great idea after all.

"They Pay Me to Do This? Arf!"

The first half of this commercial busts me up. I mean, what's funnier that a dog getting paid to do the butt scuttle?

"Hey Mom, check out Toby's new trick!"

Calling Dr. Crack-in-the-Back!

I'm sorry, but this graphic cracks me up because it reminds me of my mom.

Speaking of crack, we've been hit by some weird back flu. Joel had it first, I think, then Nettl came down with it last Thursday. It hit me this morning, with mild lightheadedness, frequent jogs to the bathroom (notice I didn't say runs to the bathroom), and fatigue. About 30 minutes ago the backache began, a slow but steady crescendo of gruesome pain of hate. Now, I can hardly walk or sit.

It's always something.

Where Have All the Rug Rats Gone?

I think it's finally hitting me although it has been coming on for at least two years. Before Nettl came into my life in 1999, bringing with her three lively, intelligent, sometimes demanding, usually pretty independent children ranging between the ages of 8 and 12, I hadn't thought about Empty Nest Syndrome. I'd been a single parent for many, many years and the idea of keeping my chicks nearby was not based on a parental-only relationship, but also friendship.

I'd always dreamed of having a traditional family, but life just didn't turn out that way for me, for a number of reasons that were beyond my control. Then I met Nettl and whammo! Instant family! I admit that at first I wasn't certain that I was up to the task, and there are plenty of entries on this blog that attest to this, but if you love someone, you love their kids as if they're your own. In fact, they become your kids, or they should. Sometime around 2004 "your kids" became "our kids".

At one point, we nearly had all five of our kids at home at the same time. Plus my mother. I'm family-oriented like that and I don't understand families that kick family members out, or say no to taking them in when they need help. Family is family; I don't care how old someone is. Perhaps it's my Celtic roots -- I'm all about my clan. Actually, we did have all the kids home last summer. But now, the family is paring down. Lauren's been away at school and is now making arrangements to move back to France to teach (she spent the 2007-08 school term there), Micah is looking to making a Brit of himself, Heather is moving in with Ville, and Nathan is joining the Marines. That leaves just the three of us.

How in hell will I re-learn cooking for only three? I've gotten used to cooking for a small army!

Instead of staying in this big house, we're looking for something smaller, and we're checking out places we'd like to move, away from Okieland. We're considering Ventura, Toronto, Boston, and even Vienna. Each has its share of pluses and minuses and we have certain considerations to keep in mind. Considerations that effect each of us in important ways.

It hit me last night when I was turning out the downstairs lights: No more keeping the outside lights on for someone who'll be coming home late, no more Silly Straws in the dishwasher (well, except for when Nettl has her occasional Margarita :D ), no more line of kids filing up to use the master bathroom shower early each morning, no more buying Pop Tarts and Otter Pops. No more discovering Coco Puffs that have fallen between the foot of our bed and the cedar chest there, left by a teenaged boy eating cereal while watching telly with us.

Of course, there will always be those Thanksgivings or Christmases when, through some miracle, all of the kids will be able to come home, but that won't last, because the next phase will be weddings and grandchildren, and it'll be easier for us to visit them.

All this was given to me by Nettl, who finally gave me the kind of family I always wanted to be a part of. It came later, but it came, and I will always be grateful. When we first met she said to me, "I want to give you everything you've always wanted, but never got." She has more than fulfilled that ambition.

Time Travel

Today (yesterday to you), without planning it, Nettl and I watched movies set in the 18th century. These included Barry Lyndon, Valmont, Affair Of The Necklace, and Amadeus.

As Mozart historians (which necessarily includes being knowledgeable about the 18th century), we see a lot of flaws in every movie whose story takes place 200 or so years ago. Face it, watching any of these movies with us would be no fun for anyone who doesn't share our love for historic authenticity.

Where that's concerned, the best of these movies is Barry Lyndon. The fashions, speech, social mores, and social dicta are spot on. As much as we love Amadeus, and recognize how large it looms in our "legend", it's just not right. I'm not talking about the story (which is completely off), I'm talking about the wigs and fashions, that cover about 40 years.

Look at it this way: suppose they were going to make a movie about you, and the people in your story were costumed in fashions from the Fifties all the way to today, during a week in 1995. Suppose that in one scene the actor portraying you was dressed like Cary Grant or Marilyn Monroe, and in the next scene Johnny Depp or Angelina Jolie. That's what watching Amadeus is like for us--no fun for non-historians who might make the mistake of wanting to watch a period film with us.

We may watch a couple more tomorrow (today to you). We still have Moll Flanders and Last of the Mohicans.

No Sleep Tonight

It think it has been two weeks since I've had a glass of wine. That's okay. I've been enjoying sweet tea and ice water during the early heat wave we've been experiencing. To the consternation of my detractors, I am not an alcoholic, but I do admit to being a minor league wino. Hey, me and Johnny Depp. Bite me.

At 9:00, I laid down to take a 15 minute nap and didn't wake up until 11:00 pm. I knew I was going to be up all night, so I poured some wine and gave in to my fate. Now, it's nearly morning and I feel like it's only about midnight.

We looked at a house last evening. It's good. Nothing special, but good. I can't see us living in it though; it didn't "vibe" me. I still see us in the 70s house with the Tuscan remodeling, near the elementary school. The closer we get to August, the more anxious I become. I don't want to find ourselves on July 15, with no house. Damn. This stuff never used to bother me, I was a nomad constantly looking for the new horizon. Getting older really sucks sometimes.

Nature's Alarm Clock

I was wakened by a huge crack of thunder that was quickly followed by torrential rain. Because it was so dark, I thought it was early in the morning, so I looked over at the desk only to find that Nettl wasn't there, as she usually is in the mornings before she goes to work. I looked at the clock and realized we were in the midst of a storm. Cool! In the time it took me to go downstairs to put on the coffee, the hail started coming down, pummeling the windows in the dining area so fiercely, I was afraid one might get broken. Fortunately, we have those windows that have a metal "paned" grid between two sheets of glass. I looked outside and saw that the hailstones were golf ball sized and larger. I've always heard of tennis ball and baseball sized hail, but I've never seen it. The noise was so deafening that it woke up Micah, and he came out into the living room.

It was then that I realized I hadn't seen the cat, so I opened the veranda door and in she slinked, soaking wet. She'd been hiding under a potting table. I dried her with a kitchen towel and she was none less for the wear, but to be sure she wasn't too traumatized, I gave her some of her Catty Shack treats.

The storm is over, but what a way to start the day! The photo is of two hailstones that lie melting on the veranda table. Click to embigify.

Tuesdays With Mozart: The Unveiling

Over the past year or so, you, my patient readers, have read entries in which I cryptically referred to my "Mozartiana". Until now, I was not at liberty to explain what that is, because I was requested by the anonymous owner of the now-famous Mozart Cache (formerly known as the Hagenauer Cache) to "sit on this for a while and allow me to work my magic". As I write this, however, the cache is on exhibition in Milan, so I can at last unveil my treasures.

In 2006, I became acquainted with the owner (I'll refer to him as KC) and one of his business partners when they emailed to ask me some questions about an unknown portrait of Mozart. KC had found a cache of 18th century items in Italy and bought it, suspecting it to contain personal effects that Leopold Mozart had willed to his daughter, Nannerl. She in turn had willed them to the Hagenauer family (the Hagenauers had not only been the Mozarts' landlords for many years, they had also been close friends). After Nanerl died in 1829, the cache was sent to Josef Hagenauer, who lived in Trieste. In the cache was a painting that spurred worldwide speculation. (It turned out that the portrait was painted by Joseph Hickle, in Vienna, in 1783, and for a long time was known only as Man in a Red Coat, and later, The Hagenauer Mozart.)

Over the next couple of years, it and the items in the cache (which included several other portraits) were put through rigorous testing in the States, the Salzburg Mozarteum, and by Dr. Cliff Eisen at Oxford University in England. They were at last authenticated. Meantime, KC and I had struck up a warm friendship as well as a solid business relationship, and I was sent, as gifts, two small items from the cache. By small I mean in size, not importance, by the way. I am posting only thumbnails of these items at this time, because this entry is sure to lure in the Flying Monkey Brigade, and their little dogs, too. Don't bother clicking on the images - they do not embiggiate.

The first item is a letter, which is being translated. It is addressed to a bishop in Lucignano. We'll see what it says.

The second item is a book that was in Leopold's personal library. It's the text of a sacred oratorio, Discernimento De' Spiriti, by Scaramelli. In and of itself it's not much. It wasn't even an expensive book when it was published in 1764, when Wolfgang was 8 years of age. Why would Leopold keep it and pass it on? Hm. Well, it does have Leopold Mozart's personal seal in it:

But the main reason is because Wolfgang, probably trying to imitate his papa, scribbled his initials in the inside back cover as well:

Just proves that kids are kids, regardless of what century they happen to live in.
Too bad the ink ran at some point during the past two centuries.
As far as I know, this is the only childhood autograph in existence by Mozart.

Inside the book I also found a hand doodled bookmark that was made when someone cut up an old letter. The letter was written in French, but there are not enough words shown to know what it said, or to whom it was written. Who knows who doodled the bookmark... I also found a couple of light brown hairs, but I doubt anyone can make anything of them.

As much as I'd love to keep these items forever, we really need the money. My hope is that the Mozarteum will want them - they really need to be returned home, where they can be taken care of properly and kept for future generations.
__________________

UPDATE - JULY 1, 2009:
The letter has been translated, and while it has nothing to do with the Mozart family, it is valuable inasmuch as it ties the book with the Mozart Cache. I have been told that it is key in corroborating the authenticity of the book.

Earworms & Variations

I know without a doubt that my Muse is back and in full swing because my brain is composing variations again. Of course, it will grab any old tune without asking me first and only after going through about four variations, I'll realize what's going on. I've composed variations on everything from Mozart to the theme from Gilligan's Island. I don't write most of them down though. Today, my brian is composing variations on Percy Grainger's Country Gardens. I may commit this one to paper, actually. It's pretty good. No idea how that tune got into my head. I haven't heard it since Allen Sherman recorded it as "Sweet Suburbia" back when I was a kid.

For my non-musical friends:
Theme & Variations: In music, variation is a formal technique where a stated tune is altered during repetition. Here's an example. First, you'll hear the pianist play the theme, which will then be followed by variations that Mozart composed on it.

Anyway, this is how I know I'm a composer. It's relentless, and I love it.

Happy Birthday Ville!

Flat

Last night at around 8:45 pm, Nettl and I sat here discussing what we should do about the flat tire the van got on Friday when she went to the SuddenLink office to pay our bill. They're doing some construction work and a screw fell into the customer parking lot. Of course our car would find it. She put some Fix-a-Flat in the tire and that worked fine until last night when she noticed it was fla-a-at. She said that in the morning she would take the bike down to the stop-and-rob on the corner about 3/4 of a mile away and get some more Fix-a-Flat. I replied that if it wasn't so late, and nearly dark, I'd just walk down there for her. She said she was thinking the same thing. Genius that I am, I said, "Why don't we walk down there together? It would be nice to get out in the nice weather, and besides, it's Stillwater - we'd be perfectly safe." She thought that sounded like fun, so we left.

What was really weird was, at the very moment we were discussing what to do about the flat tire, Micah came upstairs to ask if he could use the van. His truck had a flat tire and he wanted to go to the store and get some Fix-a-Flat.

WHA?

Outside, the sky was nearly dark and some dark clouds were moving in slowly from the west. It was a nice walk past a private pond and a wooded area that flickered with fireflies. I said that walking to a mini-mart reminded me of when I was a teenager and Cathy H. and I would walk about half-a-mile to a 7-11 on warm summer nights to get Slurpees and a can of Pringles to share. Then we'd sit on the curb talking and laughing.

On the way to the corner, Nettl and I passed a fenced back yard that obviously contained a very large dog, judging from the barking. Usually, when I talk to a dog, en passant, it'll quiet down. I love dogs and have a kind of way with them. Instead, this bruiser nearly jumped the fence. Big old brave me immediately jumped over to the other side of Nettl, hiding behind her as if to say, "If he gets over that fence, he's eating you first!" What an asshoole I am! I was so embarrassed, and ashamed of myself. Nettl just laughed. The dog didn't faze her at all! She's like that. That's why she's so good for me.

A couple of hours after we got home, a lazy thunder storm came through and I put some of the plants outside in the rain. It's quiet now, except for an occasional flash of lightening followed by a long, rolling rumble.

Well, That Was Easy

I've always had this feeling in me that I play violin, and really well. Like I'm supposed to be able to walk around the house fiddling away as I'm talking with Nettl or while partying with friends--really natural, you know? I've played a little bit of violin/fiddle throughout my life, although I've never taken lessons of any kind. It was just for fun, mostly jamming with artists after we performed in coffeehouses, or just dinking around alone at home (and sometimes with Ville, who'd dink around on either my piano or my clarinet).

Once, back when I was working with Maestro Salazar and the symphony in the late 1980s, I told him that I really wanted to learn the viola. He said he didn't have a viola, but I could use his violin. (Later, when I tried to give it back to him, he told me to keep it, "to remember me by". It's now my #1 prized possession.) Trouble was, as thrilled and honored as I felt to have his instrument, I didn't really buckle down and teach myself to play it because, well, I wanted a viola; I preferred its lower, warmer tone. Now I want to teach myself violin--really get into it and learn to play. Frank's poor violin needs new strings, however, and the bow needs rehaired and repaired, something that's going to have to wait until after we move and the money pressures have been relieved somewhat.

Last night, Nettl and I were talking about little pieces we could perform together, one of them being Mozart's Oiseuax, si tous les ans. All primed to get going on my new endeavor, but unable to actually get to the instrument, I decided to reduce the piano part of Oiseaux to violin accompaniment. It took me about an hour and was about the easiest composition work I've ever done. Maybe this break from composition was good for me. Maybe I just needed to get away from it for a while (er, like a decade?). I mean, I've been writing music since I was a child and I'd seriously burned myself out. In the past year I've tried to get back to it a number of times, but it never took hold. Suddenly, without pomp or warning, it was back as if it had simply slipped in through the door and made itself at home again.

Here is Cecilia Bartoli performing Oiseuax, si tous les ans:

Next pieces to reduce:

• La ra, la ra by Antonio Salieri
• When The King Enjoys His Own Again by Martin Parker
  

Welcome back, my beloved Muse!

A Bookish Meme For Saturday

I found this on Facebook. Use it if you want, but try to refrain from italicizing book titles (I know you want to...).

1) What author do you own the most books by?
Either Virginia Woolf or Anais Nin. It's probably a tie.

2) What book do you own the most copies of?
The Letters of Mozart and His Family.

3) Did it bother you that both those questions ended with prepositions?
Yes. I'm an obsessed proofreader. I also hate bad apostrophe usage.

4) What fictional character are you secretly in love with?
Glorfindel. His entrance took my breath away, back in the day. If you don't know who that is, sorry about your luck.

5) What book have you read the most times in your life?
Any of my 18th century research books.

6) What was your favorite book when you were ten years old?
Auntie Mame, by Patrick Dennis.

7) What is the worst book you've read in the past year?
Some crappy Mozart fiction, but since the author attacked me for my very tame critique of it here on my blog, I'm not naming names. Nothing worse than an author who can't handle respectful criticism.

8) What is the best book you've read in the past year?
Snow in Capricorn, by R.W. Spryszak.

9) If you could force everyone you tagged to read one book, what would it be?
Tuesdays With Morrie, by Mitch Albom. (And no, I'm not tagging anyone, I promise.)

10) Who deserves to win the next Nobel Prize for literature?
Me!

11) What book would you most like to see made into a movie?
So Faithful A Heart, the book that Lynette are presently writing.

12) What book would you least like to see made into a movie?
My first novel, With A Bullet.

13) Describe your weirdest dream involving a writer, book, or literary character.
I always dream about my own characters; too many to remember.

14) What is the most lowbrow book you've read as an adult?
A Dog's Life, by Peter Mayle. I love it!

15) What is the most difficult book you've ever read?
The Elegant Universe, by Brian Greene.

16) What is the most obscure Shakespeare play you've seen?
Seen, or read? I've read more than I've seen, but I wouldn't consider any of them obscure.

17) Do you prefer the French or the Russians?
Well, I haven't read the Russians (yet!), so I guess the French.

18) Roth or Updike?
Updike.

19) David Sedaris or Dave Eggers?
Never read either, that I know of.

20) Shakespeare, Milton, or Chaucer?
Shakespeare.

21) Austen or Eliot?
That depends on the book. I lean toward Eliot though.

22) What is the biggest or most embarrassing gap in your reading?
I'd like to get into a Russian obsession one day.

23) What is your favorite novel?
Great Expectations, by Dickens.

24) Play?
Cyrano de Bergerac, by Edmond Rostand.

25) Poem?
Under Milkwood, by Dylan Thomas.

26) Essay?
A Room Of One's Own, by Virginia Woolf.

27) Short story?
Come Back My Love, by Maurice Walsh. In fact, I liked it so much that I made an opera from it called, The Faery's Daughter.

28) Work of non-fiction?
Mozart: A Cultural Biography, by Robert Gutman.

29) Who is your favorite writer?
Who can name only one? Silly question. Henry Miller.

30) Who is the most overrated writer alive today?
Tom Clancy.

31) What is your desert island book?
A Literate Passion - The Letters of Anais Nin and Henry Miller.

32) And ... what are you reading right now?
The Mayflower, by Nathaniel Philbrick.

Writing & the Art of Living

I am doubly fortunate in that not only are Nettl and I classical musicians, we're also writers. This makes for a lot of stimulating conversation, even if we might not always agree. Honestly though, we agree about 99.9% of the time.

Last evening, over dinner, we spoke about how anyone who wants to be a writer has to be willing to experience life. One must be unafraid to face down one's greatest fears and dredge up one's most hidden secrets, and that's not easy. There has to be an innate curiosity about life - what it is and what the hell are we doing here - and although it sounds paradoxical, one must, at the same time, get one's focus off of oneself, loosen one's biases, and be willing to explore other people's universes.

Henry Miller wrote,

"Develop an interest in life as you see it; the people, things, literature, music - the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself." 

 That sums it up for me, but then, Miller almost always sums it up for me on most issues.

It's unfortunate and disturbing how many people today choose to live in a narrow world, a world without good music, literature and art, and without experiencing the richness of other cultures and other lifestyles. Thanks to America's corporate feudal system, the necessity of a college education has robbed most young people of the education that comes with travel. Whether it's through something like the Peace Corp or riding a Eurail pass through Europe, there is more to learn out there than what is taught in college, which has, after all, turned into not much more than an expensive trade school. Going to college these days is more about landing a good job than it is about learning, and all specializing is, really, is learning more and more about less and less. To write, one must learn more and more about more and more, and writing from what you know is more important than getting every comma correct.

I hope that things in the world will settle down a bit, that people will begin to live rather than subsist, and that some quality of life will return, especially here in the States. If the current financial crisis can bring us back to what's really important in life, that is, family and friends, good music, literature and art, then it will have been good for us. I hope the days of the diamond encrusted cell phones and designer doggiewear are over. Mostly, I hope that a crop of new, young writers will emerge to tell the stories.

Sleepless

You know how you get really silly when you haven't slept? Nah, me either. Well, okay. I'll 'fess up. About once every other week or so I can't sleep. I crawl into bed at 4 a.m. and then spend two hours tossing and turning, fidgeting and wiggling, trying in vain to find the perfect sleeping position, the perfect part of the pillow, the perfect amount of foot to stick out from beneath the covers (it's my body's thermostat). Of course, this disturbs Nettl, and then I feel like a creep.

Downstairs, the cat is squawking at Nettl for her breakfast. It's rainy outside and at 5:30 I was on the patio putting the hammock and cushions away. While I was out there, I decided that I might as well move the plants into the rain, so when I came back indoors, I was really good and awake.

The picture has nothing to do with anything, except that I'm feeling silly.

Speaking Of...

Speaking of...

Laundry.
Of all the household chores that have to be done, I hate doing the laundry most. In our family, everyone is responsible for his or her own laundry, so I'm not beefing about being stuck with loads and loads of it. All I do is my own, once a week. Well, I also do the master bath linens. I wonder, why do we still call them linens when nothing's actually made of linen anymore? Shouldn't we call bath linens terries and bed linens cottons? I started my laundry yesterday afternoon. Four loads (two for my clothes and two for the terries) and the last load is still in the dryer. Because I didn't take care of it last night, I'll have to run the dryer again. Today, the idea of that just wears me out. Part of the reason I dread the laundry every week is due to having to haul the crap up and down the stairs.

Stairs.
I used to love the idea of stairs in a house. Until I moved to Denver 17 years ago. Since then. every house or apartment I've lived in has had stairs, and I'm sick of them. Our next house will not have stairs, and for that I'm exceedingly grateful.

Houses.
We think we've found the house we'll be moving into. It's a cute 1,875 sf ranch on a quiet cul-de-sac. We saw it Sunday, and it's what we want. The agent says that she thinks we'll get it. The 70s house we liked so much was leased to friends of the owners. Of course. But this one is better in some ways, not so better in other ways, and we can see ourelves living in it very easily. The pluses are, we'll be saving $500 every month on our rent and probably a couple of hundred on our utility bills, and we'd be able to buy it in a year, if things go well for us.

Things going well.
Yesterday, Heather went in for tests for lymphoma. She's only 19, and we were worried sick. The results came back a few moments ago and she's clear. The swollen glands she has under her arms are due to a high white blood cell count (could be mono as she was exposed to it a couple of months ago). Can you say EXHALE?

That's all!

Happy Birthday to Frederica von Stade!

From my favorite production of Mozart's Le Nozze di Figaro,
starring my two favorite ladies of opera,
von Stade as Cherubino and Kathleen Battle as Susanna.

Visit Frederica von Stade's Website