Thankful Thursday

If you have any interest at all in instrumental classical music, this album needs to be in your rotation. Photo from Amazon

Warren Zevon recorded The Wind while in the process of dying. The music is understandably contemplative and melancholy, and still uplifting. Photo from Amazon

Thank you for the music, the songs I’m singing

Thanks for all the joy they’re bringing

Who can live without it, I ask in all honesty

What would life be?

— Benny Andersson, Björn Ulvaeus

I was really busy earlier this week, so instead of Grateful Monday, here is Thankful Thursday.

I was listening to a Hidden Brain podcast on how we change our beliefs Tuesday. In it a woman was on her way to an appointment where she would be diagnosed with ALS. She was listening to Warren Zevon’s “Keep Me in Your Heart,” which is from an album he recorded while dying. It got me thinking about how we build soundtracks for our lives.

Music is a universal language. Many of us like songs in languages we don’t speak. Sarah Chang’s performance of Chopin’s “Nocturne #20” proved (to me, anyway) that a performance doesn’t have to have words to bring us to tears. Then there’s the whole genre of rock, where you’re hard pressed to understand the words, even with a libretto.

Unfortunately, most of us are not open to new forms of musical expression after our mid-twenties.

Even so, I’m grateful for music.

• For the opportunities it gave me to travel and grow and get over stage fright
• For the learning opportunities of life on the road
• For the ways it brings people together
• For its ability to communicate complex ideas and build empathy or movements

Grateful Monday

I am always grateful for these two cute dogs—even when they eat my shoes.

I got to give Milam Touch of Love a check to cover buying materials for the new dog run at the City of Cameron pound. Photo by Suna

Harvey and Suna both love to sing, and I enjoy listening to them.

A big black dog

Little too much gray around the muzzle

A big black dog

Why she ended up at the pound is a puzzle

—Emmylou Harris and Will Jennings

This week is another of those that prove the need to cherish the things that don’t go to plan as much as those that do. Everything you experience goes how you want it to, benefits you or your community in unexpected ways, or teaches you something that will make you a better person going forward.

Sarita snags … again.

The Sarita sale keeps hitting snag after snag. On Friday, the title company called for payoff so they could complete the settlement statement. The mortgage company “couldn’t find the loan.” By the time this snag was resolved, it was too late to finish the statement today. They can finish it on Monday, but FHA requires three days to review it. That would put closing on Thanksgiving Day. Looks like next Monday will be the earliest we can close.

The incompetence of title companies and mortgage companies is outside of my control. I’m doing better at accepting this reality. The Realtor® helping us with the sale thanked me for “being so patient.”

Better living through chemistry. Right? Not so much. I’m grateful to be learning to focus on what I can affect.

Cars are expensive!

Through a series of decisions, we now own three cars that need to be inspected, licensed, and maintained in November. This year, I failed to set up a reserve to handle this expense. So of course, my car needed thousands of dollars in repairs.

The timing is set and can’t be changed unless I trade vehicles. The lack of reserves is something I can correct, and I will.

I am grateful I had more than enough set back in the family’s general reserve account to cover the combined expense.

Tractor Supply rocks!

Suna and I went to the Herne Tractor Supply to buy things for the horses. While we were there, we got to talking with a really nice guy who turned out to be the store manager … at least, until January sometime.

He helped us find all the materials we need to build a big dog run for the City of Cameron’s pound. Now that we know where to find all the materials, Hearts, Homes, and Hands cut a check to Milam Touch of Love, the charity that supports pounds and animal rescues in Milam County, to cover the expense. Next week, we will go pick up all the materials, and my nephew Chris has promised to help put the run together over the Thanksgiving weekend.

I am so grateful we could help further the work of MToL and help take care of the lovely animals who end up in the Cameron pound.

We Finally Won One…

Beccano mallets away at the competition. Aren’t their new uniforms great?

…and didn’t win another one.

The one we won (I’m getting too wrapped up in this homophone, right?) was the football game Friday night. McNeil usually wins all of the out-of-
district games and loses most of the in-district games. This year we started out the opposite way. One of the kids in the stand prophesied that this trend would continue.

I don’t really care. I’m there for the band.

And that brings us to the one we didn’t win. Saturday was the first marching contest of the season—and the only one I’m likely to see. McNeil sounded really good and look pretty good. I thought they had a serious chance, but the judges thought otherwise.

McNeil was the only band that we saw who performed their whole show. That should have counted for something. The other bands had worked on adding flash, but just stood in place for their third movement. We marched the whole damned thing! And sounded good doing it. But apparently flash is more important than knowing your show, and McNeil placed sixth out of a number that resembles a nine but is of lesser value.

Grrr.

Granted, the last three places were determined by only a few hundredths of a point. But still…

So this week, I am grateful to get to hang out with so many dedicated kids who work really hard to put on a show each Friday night. They deserve better than they got.

The Trip Home

Dad reassures Suna that the AC in his tractor works.

As I mentioned yesterday, we stopped off at Dad’s on the way home. We couldn’t stay as long as I would have liked, but we got to see him and eat some ice cream at DQ.

My favorite part was when he showed off his new tractor to Suna. He gave her a really good tour of the cab. He even started it and let her pretend to drive.

Suna and Beccano enjoyed riding around on the Mule that Chris loaned him. That gave Dad and I a little chance to talk—mostly about nothing. And that is just fine.

This week, I’m grateful to be able to talk to Dad about nothing in particular.

Birds

A couple of weeks ago, Suna and Beccano talked me into buying a bird feeder for the front yard. I had put one up in my front yard in Granger and found out that most of the seeds in wild bird food are weed seeds. I had a few birds but a whole yard of thistles.

So I was a little sceptical. I have, after all, worked very hard to beautify the front yard over the last few years. I didn't want a bunch of thistles taking over the flower beds and lawn.

Then I came home from work one day this week to find a dozen birds pecking seeds from the lawn. Another half-dozen tiny birds hanging on the feeder. Of course, they all flew off when I pulled into the driveway.

The next morning a small flock flew away when I opened the front door. As I watered the container garden, I noticed the loudness of the Morning Song around me.

I love the sound of the birds in the morning. For this I am grateful.

More To Be Grateful For

Beccano in his brother’s dorm residence hall living-learning domicile

Last night Beccano told us that Junior Roundup—the day juniors at McNeil get their schedules and books—was this morning. Both he and Suna said that he had told us previously, and it had slipped all of our minds. So I got up early (for me) this morning to take him by school.

We had a nice talk on the way to school. About half way there, he said, “You know. You don’t have to go in with me. I’m just going to get my books. It shouldn’t take that long since I’m not getting a locker or anything. That’s what takes all the time.” So we planned put where and how I should pick him up when he was done.

I found a parking place in the lee of the PAC and started this blog about how proud I am of this young man. It was just a couple of years ago that he wouldn’t even ask a clerk at a game store about a game he really wanted. Now here he is going into a crowded room to deal with authority figures on his own—not wanting his peers to see him with a parental unit.

It also made me aware of how independent Trackgrease was and how I should have appreciated that more.

I am grateful to have had both of these fine young men in my life. I have learned so much from each of them that my paltry contributions to them are negligible in comparison. Mostly I am grateful to Trackgrease for surviving the vast number of parenting mistakes his mother and I made in raising him. I would do a much better job if I could have a do-over.

Mobile Blogging from here.

RIP: Les Paul

I think more people will recognize the guitar than a picture of the man.Photo by: his1K

OK. I never was a big fan of Les Paul (June 9, 1915 – August 13, 2009). I only recently discovered how much I like the music he and Mary Ford recorded before I was born. But no one can doubt the influence he had on twentieth century music. Where would rock and roll be without the guitar that bore his name?

Ironically, when The Economist showed up in the mail on Friday, the cover featured an angel playing a Les Paul guitar to promote a feature on why we love music.

Les Paul became an inspiration to me a few years ago when I heard an NPR interview with him. Arthritis had all but taken his hands. He could only use one finger on his left hand consistently, sometimes two. But he kept playing. The bit they played on the radio sounded as good as many four-fingered guitarists and better than most.

How did he deal with the pain? He said, if you want to play, you do what you have to.

Les Paul died last Thursday, but today I am grateful for all that he gave us.

Life Is Hard But Good

OK. Suna blogged this one, too. But it’s such a nice picture. Photo by: Jon Montgomery

Well, I’m still not blogging with the consistency that I was earlier this year, but maybe that’s a good thing. Work is good, and it’s been taking most, if not all, of my writing energy lately. So I’ll keep this Grateful Monday short.

This week I’m grateful that our family economics are to the point where both Suna and I can start investing some of our energies outside the home. Tonight, Suna is leading a meeting at church. I cooked a nice sausage dinner—Suna and Beccano picked out the sausage yesterday—and had it ready when Suna got home.

Suna, the boys, and I sat down to dinner and conversation, something else to be grateful for. In spite of the dreadful manipulation of paranoid souls in which the Right continues to engage, I have some hope for the future. With Trackgrease, Tubaboy, and Beccano putting their energies into making the world a better place, how can we fail? Again.

Thanks, Dad

Dad at Texas Roadhouse

This week’s Grateful Monday is short. I’m grateful to have my dad hanging around, farming, and generally being obnoxious at 86. It may not be all that unusual for someone in their 50s to still enjoy the company of their parents, but consider that Dad and Mom were both in their mid-30s when I was born.

I lost Mom almost a decade ago. I want Dad to be around for a long, long time. I’m greedy that way.

Cherry

Me and My Victory

Photo by: Karl P.

I said I would post pictures of my new bike, whom Suna has named Cherry. One of my uber-conservative friends snapped the picture this weekend when I stopped by his house.

I had to ride the bike through gusty winds on an overpass today. The crosswinds were almost unnoticeable. The bike cut through them with little or no effort.

So far, I only have two complaints:

• It is belt, not shaft, driven.
• The shifter is toe-only. (I got spoiled to a heal shifter on the VTX.)

Now I promise I’ll stop going on and on about the bike.

So that brings me to what I am grateful for this week, and it’s not the bike. This week I am grateful again for Suna. She encouraged me to get the bike even though she generally dislikes them. She then blogged nice things about the bike, even making it her Wednesday Wonder! She makes me happy in thousands of little ways, just by being the nice person she is. Thanks for being so nice to me.

Happy Birthday, Mom

Mom and Dad (when he had hair)

Photo by Olan Mills

Today would have been my mother’s 89^th birthday. She lived a long and difficult life, but she always kept her sense of humor. I remember her making the ICU staff laugh just days before she died. She always had a kind word and a smile, no matter what.

Dad was, Mom’s third (at least) husband. I don’t know because she didn’t talk much about her past until the end. She was too busy looking ahead. So I only knew of one other when I was growing up.

Mom and Dad were married more than 40 years. Dad was disappointed that they didn’t make 50. She said he was the best thing that ever happened to her.

So today I am grateful for the years Mom and Dad had together. I’m also grateful for what she taught me about the healing power of humor.

Just Workin’

This week I am grateful to be working to much to do much blogging. Writing under an accelerated deadline saps my writing creativity this week.

Library Thing

I know there’s supposed to be an illustration here, but like I said, I’m tired. And apathetic. Would something random be better than nothing?

Well, this was a horrible week in the news. Many of my friends lost jobs last week, and today wasn’t any better. It turns out that AIG paid—perhaps was legally required to pay—hundreds of millions of dollars to the people who raped the economy. President Obama is so angry about that, he said he was choking. The Dow didn’t make five consecutive days on the positive side, even though it would have been the first time in recent memory.

But Suna is getting interviews before her contract ends, and my dad said a well near our property hit gas. My job continues. So, all things considered, I have a lot to be grateful for today. Picking one thing for the week is a challenge, but I’ll give it a go.

This week I’m going to be grateful for my online book community, Library Thing—not what you expected after the economics intro, but what the hell; I’m tired. They published a cool screen saver for the Mac this week and are trying to get one together for Windows. They have given me intelligent acquaintances all over the world who share my love affair with the printed word—especially if you count online media, however volatile. They power my church library and my personal library online. They provide much of the book and author content I link to from this blog.

I’m making a committment to upload higher resolution book covers for the community than they can get from Spamazon.

Still More Music

I didn't get any pictures of the kids at church, so I'm recycling a picture from the Triskelion gig last month

Sunday was the annual youth service at church. It was all positive, focusing on service at all levels but starting with random acts of kindness. There were fewer partially thought-through ideas than last year, but the best part was the music. A cover of imagine made Suna get all weepy. There were a few other really good songs, too.

So this week am again grateful for music and for the passing of the torch. I find that music is in good hands with this next generation. I just wish I knew how to mentor them better. But to do that, I would have had to have accomplished something with my music. Maybe it’s not too late for that. Probably, but maybe not.

Weekend Update—Not SNL

Buddy and Rose often have head-on collisions at the doggy door.

I got to work in the garden a bit this weekend. I also had some time to myself. I tremendously enjoyed both.

Then yesterday, I played in the Dixieland-ish band at church, and the people seemed to genuinely enjoy it. We stayed late for a Music Committee meeting, which I think went really well.

Last night, I put together a cheap stand so the bird can move up to the media room and rejoin the family. I’ve missed that bird since we started using our portables in the media room so I could transform the old office into a music room. (That hasn't even really got started yet, but it will.)

As I was walking around campus today, I saw a fat pigeon go after a bug only to get picked off by a hawk. I wondered if the insect were aware of the pigeon’s fate, would it see the incident as divine intervention or a lucky coincidence.

So that is what I am grateful for this week: life in all its permutations, varieties, and plot twists.

Life is what we make it. Let’s choose to make it good.

And More Music

Triskelion. More pictures on Facebook.

Suna and I went to see Beccano’s band play in public for the first time tonight. Triskelion played an open mic at Nuno’s Bar and Grill (north).

We arrived with the band a little before 19:00. The kids had told us they would play a sometime between 19:00 and 20:00, but the guy who ran the show said his band played the first set, which started at 21:00. He promised to get Triskelion on next so we could get the kids home for school.

We settled down to wait with the other parents and Jeff. While we waited, we nibbled on bar food—jalepeño poppers (be careful how you type that), Buffalo wings, and so on. We talked about nothing and told old jokes. You know, the stuff you do when you’re bored and can’t do anything about it.

Finally, starting time rolled around. The first band took the stage. They we really good—two guitars, bass, three-part harmonies, tight, tight, tight. They kept looking over at the kids and cracking jokes like “This is what it’s like to be our age and still trying to do this for a living.” They even played two covers of ELP songs: “From the Beginning” and “Lucky Man.”

The it was the kid’s turn. They learned how to adjust to the room on a medley of “Johnny B. Goode” and “Revolution”—or as Parker described it, “two songs we kinda smooshed together.” Beccano did a great job on the bass solo for “My Generation,” and they finished strong with a Hendrix-like cover of “Hey Joe.”

The crowd, mostly older musicians there to jam, was really supportive of the kids. The guy running the show talked them off the stage by saying, “You really need to give it up for these guys again. This is the next generation of doing what we do.” Suna said he invited them back anytime they want to play.

Combined with yesterday, my life seems filled with music. So that is what I am grateful for this week: an abundance of music and nice people.

Grateful Monday

Trackgrease and Roxy came by to visit this weekend.

This weekend my son Trackgrease and his partner made it up to visit. Since they had said they were coming by a couple of times before, it was nice that they actually made it and stayed with us and went to church with us, too.

Trackgrease has been making a living singing, and I have always liked the sound of his voice when he sings. So it was no big surprise to hear him singing well at church. What did surprise me was that he even sang the out the children—neither the words nor music are easily findable in the hymnal.

I really shouldn’t have been surprised because he has mentioned that he might like to become UU minister. I don’t think he quite gets it that he has to finish a bachelor’s degree before he can enter the seminary, but that’s OK. Its a good goal. Suna and I would both like to take classes there, too. Just for the helluvit.

After church we went to South Congress. It was my idea. I wanted to do something nice for Suna, but I wasn’t prepared for the press of that many people. By the time we headed back north, my nerves were already shot, but I was trying to hold on. Then I made a wrong turn and got trapped in a parking lot where nobody moved and I couldn’t turn around to get back free. This set up a full-fledged panic attack. This couldn’t have helped Suna, who was already jangled from a series of stresses she has already blogged about. Sigh.

So I am grateful for Suna not freaking out when I had a panic attack. And I am grateful for one of the last things Trackgrease said to me before he went back home. He said he was glad that he could still come stay with me and feel like my son. So am I.

Patio Furniture

This is the new patio furniture that has been wet since I finished putting it together.

Suna and I celebrated Valentine’s Day early this year. We went to Z-Tejas, a restaurant that has some of the best food and deafening acoustics. Hopefully, the next time we go there, it will be warm enough to sit outside.

The other part of our Valentine’s Day celebration was to go to the Home Depot and buy some new patio furniture for our new patio. While we were deciding which set we wanted, we ran into the guy who built it for us. That was kind of a cool irony.

So I spent a good part of the weekend assembling the furniture. Even Ikea could learn something about packaging from Home Depot’s Hamilton Bay brand. Not only did they package all the tools required (as does Ikea), the shrink wrapped the nuts, bolts, washers, and spacers to cardboard backing that was labeled with the part reference from the assembly instructions. I was astounded.

This week, I am grateful for my special Valentine, Suna. Not to mention that I am also grateful for the new patio furniture and the patio to put it on. I’m looking forward to sitting out on the patio and sipping some cold beverages while getting to know the neighbors better.

Oh, and I almost forgot to mention that we got a healthy rain last night. It wasn’t enough to break the drought, but I appreciate every drop.

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10 February Update: Added the picture I didn’t get to take when I was putting the furniture together.

Songs of the Heart

I think this was a high C note. I love hearing Suna sing.

Photo by Beccano

I went back to church yesterday after having missed a couple of weeks with the creeping crud.

My voice still isn’t under control, so I didn’t sing along with the hymns as I usually would. My throat wakes up in a different place emery day. That makes finding the initial pitch very difficult. And since I have relative—some would say questionable—pitch, I have to find that first pitch to make sense of the melody or whichever part I sing.

But yesterday, my voice was almost back to normal—just a little wobbly. In Microsoft terms, trying to hit a note could yield unpredictable results.

I found myself standing between two really good singers, namely Suna and Saranda. Suna sings alto and Saranda, soprano. When we got to the third hymn, they each knew their respective parts perfectly. Add to that a decent arrangement of this tune, and I was transfixed.

I stood between them and listened to the interplay of their voices rendering the parts. It was so pretty that I forgot to try to sing until the last verse rolled around. While I didn’t do the tenor partjustice, I really enjoyed the parts that worked.

Suna wants to get a studio set up in the old office. I’m looking forward to doing so. One of the first projects I want to try is recording some of these simple hymns, with Suna and Saranda doing the leads.

That’s I’m what I am most grateful for this week: being surrounded bysuch lovely voices.

The Sweet Smell of…I Can’t Smell Anything

This has been the problem for the last few days.

I am still breathing—not that I was in great danger of not doing so. I was down part of last week with a cold that kept changing its symptom profile, but basically moved between my throat and sinuses. But no pneumonia this year!!

Suna was a darling this weekend and took great care of me. I propped myself up on the couch in the media room, and she kept the household running and nursed me back to health.

So today I am back at work wrapping up a project that went fairly well, if not perfectly. I have other reasons to be slightly optimistic about the future, even if much of what I touched last week underwent a mystical transmogrification into steaming piles of fecal matter—a cosmic situation with which I am not totally unfamiliar. I think I see the light at the end of the tunnel, but I am a little worried about that chugging sound.

So that is what I am grateful for this week: progress in spite of setbacks, kindness and love in the face of human frailties and mistakes.