Tatted (and tarted) snowflake in a window. November 2024.
I discovered 30 minutes in my day! Our holiday newsletter has reached 50% completion. For the first time in several years, I am “on schedule”—I dare not say “ahead” both due to the Law of Jinxing and because I see little time to work on it during the next two days. My Sunday deadline approaches, just as Tuesdays did decades ago when I worked on weeklies. Let me tell you, there’s nothing like starting a Tuesday knowing you don’t have enough copy to fill the empty pages! It really gets the creative juices flowing! I used the same approach as a teacher, walking in some days only clutching a topic in my mind. Lesson plans? Hah!
We kicked Covid out for good this week, but like with any unwanted guest there’s a bit of cleaning up to do. Last night’s choir rehearsal—my first in four weeks, my second in two months—did a number on my throat, partly because I had to violate the “sing from your diaphragm” rule on several pieces. My muscles ache from weeks spent primarily sitting in this office chair. The cough hasn’t completely disappeared either, small but annoying.
And lastly, one of the readers of this site and the one who partly inspired a trip to Michigan in 2023, may be amused by the photo below. I’m not a cider drinker, but I think this is being newly distributed here in NC:
From the exurbs of Detroit! Spotted in a Raleigh, NC, grocery store. November 2024.
We’ve had two (or is it three?) cold fronts move through. Friday’s came through late afternoon. The past two mornings have featured wind chills in the single digits. No big deal for a lot of folks, but in North Carolina the weather-folk told us to stay indoors. Apparently they either never lived in the north, or they realize many of us down here never have. Regardless, my fingers are too cold to type, my brain is too cold to think. I can’t blog.
I’m having a crisis with the beer fridge. I want it to chill the beer no colder than 40 degF, preferably 42. It’s giving me 32 on the middle shelf, and I’ve got the thermostat turned up as far as I can without turning it off. (Hmmm, unless it’s backwards–maybe it’s as cold as it can go…) I need to find an external controller. I don’t have time to blog.
My choir director headed to England for a week last Sunday. Texts me at 4:35 a.m. Tuesday to ask me if I’ll introduce the guest organist performing a concert that very night at our cathedral. Of course, it was past 9:30 in London. I said yes. It sucked up half an afternoon (for doing things I would have done near dinnertime), and all of an evening, plus it left me a zombie on Wednesday when I got home late, couldn’t get to sleep, and stayed up to midnight “to relax with a nightcap”. I can’t think, I can’t blog.
Shortly after that Tuesday text, I’m showering and realize, “crap, I’ve got a blood draw this morning!” Just in time to get dressed and go. (Rule: When it’s a fasting blood draw, schedule it early.) I can’t remember my appointments, let alone remember to blog.
Thursday we attended a luncheon meeting about forming a seniors group at our church. If you want to see some visual humor, take a look at the car parking skills for a bunch of 65- to 90-year-olds. I can’t blog. I’m still looking for a parking spot. I’ll blog when I do.
I rose at 4:44 a.m. today to get myself going for a 7 a.m. mass where I was the scheduled cantor. I’m a bass. It normally takes until noon to get my voice warmed enough to hit middle C. I did it today in less than two hours. I think I strained something. I can’t blog.
I finished Roger Daltrey’s autobiography early in the week. Roger revealed that one of my top bands fit the definitions “irresponsible miscreants” and “jackasses”. Removing my admiration left me emotionally untethered. I can’t blog.
Or maybe it’s just that planning some very special vacations to Europe and points beyond, getting my profligate ways under control, dealing with life’s vagaries (bills, groceries, cat vomit, completely unscheduled propane deliveries), and trying to figure out how to exercise, meditate, study scriptural sources, pay bills on a near daily basis, cook, read for pleasure, write (outside of the blog), and still find time to be a husband to my wife–all of that takes more time than the day has granted me. The blog sits too far down the list. (Saint Frances de Sales, patron saint of writers and journalists, pray for me.)
In the Roman Catholic Church tomorrow is The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe. This begins the final week of the year…as far as liturgy is concerned. The new year begins with the First Sunday of Advent on December 3. This year Advent is three weeks and one day long, the shortest it can be, because the Fourth Sunday of Advent falls on Christmas Eve Day. It can be four weeks long when Christmas falls on a Sunday as it did last year. Thus the end of the year prompts a bit of reflection for me before falling into the seasonal frenzy.
All of this by way of saying too many things dance in my head this moment to make this a coherent piece of writing. One of yesterday’s posts prompted a request for more “soundtrack” postings, and I’ve decided to play with that for a little bit.
Today’s soundtrack
I’m a bass in one of the choirs at the Holy Name of Jesus Cathedral in Raleigh, NC. There’s a lot of music coming down the road right now. We’ve a special liturgy full of music coming up, Lessons and Carols, and then there is the tradition of a musical presentation preceding the Midnight Mass on December 24-25. (The music begins between 11-11:30 p.m. to make sure the mass itself begins on Christmas Day–“midnight” mass.) This year’s music packet for the choir is nearly 100 pages. I’m not telling this to brag, convert, solicit sympathy, or narrate information about the church. I’m telling you this to explain that the soundtrack began with a lot ME practicing my music!
The remainder of it has been finishing Yessongs by Yes. Released in 1973, it’s more interesting than good. Large amounts of the two-hour album are better on the studio albums where the group could overdub to its heart’s content. I’m particularly not fond of some of the improvised melodic changes. They’re just not as good as the originals they’re meant to bring to their audience. But considering the large of amount of overdubbing and the intricate work which went into making the studio albums, it’s illuminating to hear how well that is conveyed in concert.
Enough. It’s time to sip some cheer, consider stories for my annual Christmas newsletter (more on that later), and relax. For now I will leave you with an oakleaf hydrangea, a native plant in the southeastern USA (which I just learned!). Some lousy squirrels broke it off just above the ground last year because it’s almost directly under a bird feeder which they cannot reach. Thinking the entire thing was dead and gone, you can imagine my delight to see it sprout a small plant this spring. It has conical heads of white flowers which turn woody in the fall–literally, like little chips of wood. And of course the leaves! Worth trying to save.
all the voices in my head 