The Week In Review

Okay, I have not done any better writing this week than I did last week, but this week I can account for where the days have gone.

Monday was spent getting my life back in order after having been gone all weekend. I came back from my silent retreat rested and relaxed and those who spent the weekend at my house (some kind of REALLY messy house guests I think or was it my family??) had their own kind of retreat - a retreat from washing any dishes or clothes, putting anything in the trash can, which negated the need to take any trash to the dumpster, or from putting any of the 6, 347 DVD's (by actual count) that they watched during these brief three days back in their sleeves. I think that maybe they had more of a retreat than I did. I at least made my bed every day and washed my own iced tea glass! So there went Monday. Oh, I think there was a trip to the grocery store in there as well.

Tuesday morning we went out for breakfast and selfishly took a few minutes to sit and do the crossword puzzles before going over to help a friend. She was getting a new puppy from a local rescue agency and wanted some help wrangling her other three dogs while the woman from the agency, who was probably more picky about this dog's new home than CPS is about most foster homes, scoped out the situation. All went well and "Peanut" who is now being called "Petey" has a new home.

Wednesday morning began bright and early. I had to be at the hospital at 6:30 am for outpatient surgery to remove skin cancer from my arm. The procedure went well; all of the cancer is gone and I am left with about a 5 inch incision. I was really hoping for a smiley face scar but because the did not have to do a skin graft I have only a boring wavy line. I think I look like an idiot who did not know how to slit his own wrist. Brooke says it is more like a wound from a defensive move from a knife fight. The bottom line, all is well. I am stitched and taped back together.

I did learn that most hospital staff does not have a sense of humor. First of all, a nurse asked me if I had had a hysterectomy. I responded with a "no". She then told me that she needed a urine sample. I said to her, "You are not seriously going to do a pregnancy test are you?" She said that they have to do one on every woman under fifty who has not had a hysterectomy. Has the medical profession not heard of tubal ligation? Celibacy? Boredom? There are lots of ways not to be pregnant. I did tell her that if I was pregnant that we would all be rich and that if she would smile I might share with her. She didn't smile. And, I am not pregnant. When I got home I had a little Internet retail therapy and played many computer games.

I taught my class on Thursday morning. I managed to play some dictation examples on the piano with my minorly swollen fingers. The one difficulty of the surgery is that I can't get my arm wet for ten days. That makes washing my hair a little challenging. I think that saran wrap, which I loathe as something to use in the kitchen, may become my best friend. I'll have to warp my arm with it to take a shower for the next couple of weeks. If I don't make friends with it, I will smell too bad for any of my human friends to want to get close to me! fortunately, my dogs don't care what I smell like. My knitting buddies did come over last night for a little fun. It had only been a little more than a day since I showered so it was OK. Today may be a different story.

You all know that I like to post pictures here. I do have some options. I could post pictures of my arm with its varying colors, steri-strips (the real stitches are on the inside), and the doctor's marks that say "slice here." However, I think you would rather see this: This is "Petey". He is a four month old terrier mix. This little guy, though he is very young, has had a rough life. He was rescued from someone that was using him as bait to train pit bulls to fight. Despite that, he is the happiest and friendliest little guy and has no problems getting along with other dogs. He was marked as "unadoptable" by a city shelter because of the puncture wounds that he had. A woman from a private rescue agency went and got him on the day he was to be euthanized. She nursed his wounds and then placed him up for adoption. He now has a wonderful human mom that loves him and three canine brothers and sisters that are taking good care of him.

All and all, this has been a good week!

Where Has The Week Gone?

I can't believe that it has been more than a week since I last posted. I wish I could say that I have been feeding the multitudes of hungry people, or battling forest fires, or discovering the cure for AIDS, or travelling the world, but I can't. Sadly, I can't tell you anything significant that I have done in the last week except for the last three days.

I was on a silent retreat this weekend with my Franciscan fellowship. Though we did have meals together and said the Daily Offices as a group, we were in total silence for 24 hours. It was awesome! The freedom not to have to say anything to another person was such a gift. It really was not as selfish as it sounds but 24 hours of silence was an amazing gift.

Before I left, I thought about how I could spend my quiet time productively. I thought about reading a book (something spiritual of course), or writing, or sleeping, but none of these felt right. I finally decided that I would spend the time with my camera. I have many things to learn about it and I seem not to have any uninterrupted stretches of time at home. So I took my camera, a full battery, an empty card, the manual and another book on photography.

After breakfast, I sat down with the book. I read a few pages, checked my camera's manual for specifics, found the appropriate buttons on the camera, read a few more pages and repeated the entire process. As is often the case, the more I read, the more I realized that I did not know. After this "classroom" session, I set out on the retreat center grounds to take some pictures.

Texas in June is monochromatic - brown with a slight hint of green. I had a hard time finding a shot that jumped out and said "take me". Truthfully, I was not really looking for a "good picture", I was hoping to play with some different settings on my camera. This I did accomplish.

We our group gathered to come out of silence together, everyone was sharing the fruits of their quiet time. Some people read from their journals; others read poems they has written; still others read passages from Scripture that spoke to their day; some remained in silence; and I confessed that I had spent the day with my camera. Several people asked to see the pictures, but I had intentionally not taken my computer so I really had no way to share. I'm sure they all thought I had wasted the day sleeping!

When I got home, I put the card in my computer and looked at the images. Though there are no outstanding artsy pictures, I did accomplish my goal for the weekend. I can see in the shots I took those things that I read about. I fell good about what I accomplished though I don't have much to outwardly show for it. Several people asked if I would email pictures once I had had the opportunity to look at them. I offer this one.

This was the one burst of color that I found. I don't mean to imply that the retreat center where we were was not pretty because it was. There were many tall trees and bark covered paths that wound through the wooded areas. There just was not much color variation. I found this flower on a bush outside the house where we stayed.

I still don't know where the other four days of the past week went. I hope that I can make a better accounting of the coming week!

Sausage, Silliness, and Solstice

We often say that "today was the longest day" when referring to a day that was not so good having gone on way longer than we wish it had. As we celebrate the summer solstice, today really was the longest day. I had a great day so for me I mean this only in the most literal sense.

Like most Saturday's, there were chores to be done, but a few days ago a few of my friends and I made plans to enjoy all of today's sunlight at the lake. We live only about a mile from the lake so you would think that we would make frequent visits. We used to, but in the last few years we have not been at all. In fact, none of us could remember when we were last there. (I must clarify one thing. Texas has only one natural lake and ours ain't it. Lake Ray Roberts was built by the Corps of Engineers in the mid eighties.)

Eight of us had a general discussion of food and who would bring what, we agreed on a time to meet and that was all the planning we did. As is often the case with such events, everything was terrific. We had a nice meal with chicken, sausage, steak, grilled corn, several salads, and awesome banana bread. We also managed to make it out there with charcoal, cooking and serving utensils, paper goods (down to our own roll of toilet paper, which I am happy to report was not necessary), and plastic wear. The only thing that we forgot was a trash bag. We managed.

We really did nothing but talk, eat, and be silly. How fun is that? I think that if we all had more evenings like the eight of us had tonight, a much happier society would emerge.

This is the summer solstice sunset on Lake Ray Roberts

In the midst of all of the fun and food, I did not check my camera settings before I took the first picture. I share with you a serious photographic error but a kind of cool picture. This is straight out of the camera and I have no idea what a did.

Moonstruck

My camera and I were not exactly one with each other as I took these pictures, but we had fun. This is one of those instances where a little more time with the manual would have been beneficial. Oh well . . .maybe next time.

First Kiss

Rendez-vousing in the parking lot of the mall after all the stores are closed can only lead to illicit behavior - sex, drugs, and/or rock and roll. This was confirmed for me tonight when my best friend, someone I respected and thought I could trust answered a phone call from "a friend" asking her to meet in the parking lot of a bookstore of all places.

I have often been accused of being a suspicious person so tonight I decided to earn that reputation fair and square. I followed along with my camera so that I could record the dirty deed. I was not disappointed. My friend drove to the designated spot, parked the car, and leaped out. I barely had time to focus the camera and they were already in each other's arms, kisses flying. I was shocked. Here is the proof caught on film, well digital media. I swear that there was no digital enhancement or manipulation used on this picture. Prepare yourself . . .

That fuzzy little fur ball was so proud of herself. You can see it in her eyes. She is thinking that this was sooo easy. I have faith in my friend. She may have a weak moment every now and then but she will come to her senses before this goes too far. I will stay here with my camera so that I can record the farewell.

Okay everyone, say goodbye. What! No goodbye? They are getting in the car together. The engine is started and they are leaving the parking lot . . . TOGETHER! How can she be so stupid? Didn't her mother warn her about stranger danger? I was just hoping for one of those National Inquirer photos that would make me rich. Instead, I am on a full-fledged mission. I followed closely, but inconspicuously, behind. We went several miles and they turned off the main road. They were heading for her house. What are they going to do? What if, what if, what if she decides to sleep with this fuzzy little fur ball tonight? I'm just telling you that if she does, all that stuff I said about respect and trust, I didn't mean any of it.
They pulled up in her drive way. She lives in the country and there was no light so I lost my photo op. (A flash would have given me away.)

In the morning I will sneak down and see if the fur ball is in the yard and maybe I will sneak in and see if the sheets have white fuzz on them.

What is this world coming to when sleeping together happens after only knowing each other a few hours?

Revolving Door

The comings and goings around here this weekend have made this place feel more like a hotel with a revolving door that is in constant motion than like a country home in the midst of the lazy days of summer.

I left Friday afternoon to spend the weekend in Austin. Though the weekend's agenda went through many scenarios before all was said and done, it was a great weekend that involved discovering a new knit shop, buying a few books, a glass of wine and two nights where I did not have to get up and let dogs in or out even once. The latter in and of itself justifies the entire trip. It was a most enjoyable and much needed few days away from home.

While I was enjoying my time away, Offspring No. 1 was packing up her room in Chicago and heading home for a summer with her beloved family and a job wrangling four and five year-olds. (And she thought Russian and Calculus were a challenge!) By putting some of her stuff in storage, mailing several boxes home, buying an extra suitcase, and paying $50 dollars for the suitcase that weighed 69 pounds, she managed to get herself and all her things home for the summer. She and her daddy flew home Saturday evening. Fortunately, because he is exempt from the second bag fees that American Airlines now charges (because he has flown so many miles in his capacity as a commercial airline test dummy, just kidding) it did not cost a fortune to get it all here.

I am so happy to have my precious firstborn home again. As you can tell from the expression on her face, she is also happy to be sharing the summer with her loving family.

Note: I, as the photographer, will take responsibility for the fuzziness of the above picture, but I must inform you that the hair color is not the result of poor photography, lighting, or an unfortunate encounter with Photoshop. I would like to say that it is the result of bad water in Chicago, or city smog, or poor nutrition that was caused by being forced to eat dorm food, but I must be honest. This lovely color can be traced back entirely to personal taste.

Because she will be the responsible adult in a classroom of young children for the summer, and because she will be working in a reputable preschool that fashions itself as having capable, competent, and respected teachers, and because it is hard to maintain such a reputation if the children go home and tell their parents that their teacher is Ronald McDonald, the hair will go through a color transformation before next Monday when she begins working.

Offspring No. 2 was home all weekend though she maintained a full social calendar. She leaves in the morning on a mission trip to Abbyville, LA. The group of kids will help with the rebuilding process that is still going on nearly three years after hurricanes Katrina and Rita. Two summers ago, she went to New Orleans on a mission trip. On that trip, the kids helped families clean out their houses so that they could then be demolished. Though the work on this year's trip will be equally challenging, perhaps it will be a little more uplifting because they are helping to rebuild.

She spent her time at home this weekend trying to figure out how to look good in work clothes and packing the necessary goods.

The male parental unit came home last night and was here to celebrate Father's Day. Like Offspring No. 2, he leaves in the morning. This week it will just be me and the vegan at home. Our first bonding experience of the summer involves a trip to the grocery store to stock up on all the vegetables the No. 2 will not eat.

This revolving door keeps me on my toes. Every morning I wake up and wonder do I fix tofu or hamburgers for dinner. And do I serve chips or sauteed kale with it? An error here could have very bad results!

The Sound of Silence

I have spent the last two evenings making a recording with our church choir. Early in May, we did a pretty hefty concert, sixteen pieces ranging from Latin motets of the Renaissance to pieces written within the last year. It was a fun concert to perform and was well received by those in the audience. In fact, the response was so overwhelming, that that was the impetus for the recording. That and the fact that we are trying to raise zippty million dollars to pay for our new organ (in the process of being built and scheduled for delivery in January) and all of the renovations to the current choir gallery that are necessary to accommodate this new organ.

We did the recording in the sanctuary, the same place where the concert was originally performed, and the place where we sing together every Sunday morning. It is a familiar environment for all of us yet when faced with using this place as a "recording studio", it takes on a whole new persona.

Anyone who has sat through a Sunday service knows that a child's voice echoes throughout the entire sanctuary. In moments like this, especially if it is your kid offering unsolicited commentary on the priest's sermon, we all wonder why the acoustic properties of the building allow for so much reverberation. You would think that such properties would be a blessing for us as we recorded this week. Yes, our space is capable of rendering beautiful choral sounds, but like most things, there is also a down side.

Prior to gathering for our first recording session on Wednesday night, we were all advised not to wear "squeaky" shoes. You know the sound of rubber-soled shoes moving on marble? That is what we were trying to avoid. And as any musician who has done any kind of recording knows, it is important to turn pages quietly. This sounds like a simple thing to ask, however forty people turning pages at exactly the same time without it being audible is quite a laudable fete. For the most part, we were able to follow these two sets of instructions with no major infractions. Having accomplished these things, I was amazed at all the sounds that are present in a "quiet" space.

Just as forty people turning pages at the same time has the potential to make a clearly audible, and potentially disruptive, sound, so does the sound of forty people breathing simultaneously.

Then there is the hum of the lights. I am not talking about that obnoxious high pitched hum that all fluorescent lights make. I am talking about a faint sound that goes completely unnoticed unless the sanctuary is "perfectly quiet". Then the constant drone of "F" becomes as distracting as the baby crying during Sunday Mass. This is especially true when trying to sing an a capella pieces in a key other than F.

Beware of the subtle movement of someone's bracelet.

We had to record a few extra takes because of airplanes flying overhead and sirens screaming down the road outside.

After singing for two and a half hours, coughing amongst the choir became an issue. (Who am I kidding, coughing was an issue from the very beginning. As soon as we were given the "Get Ready" sign, there was a unison cough that was as precise as the attack of any piece's opening chord.)

There was also the sound of the organ stops being pulled and the clang of the director's baton hitting his stand accidentally.

A few words not in the text of any of our pieces were uttered in places where notes or chords also not in the pieces were interjected.

I am happy to report that we were never interrupted by someone's cell phone ringing or by some unsuspecting soul who did not bother to read all of the "Do Not Enter" signs situated at every entrance to the church. Considering the fact that we were doing this recording in what is essentially a public place not normally used for this purpose, things went quite well. At this point, the assumption is that any extraneous sounds are insignificant and can be removed during the editing process.

This whole experience gave me a new appreciation for the sound of silence. This is not a new discovery. John Cage, in his piece 4'33" invited us all to experience the sounds of silence. Cage's composition is scored for a performer and a piano. The performer walks on stage, sits at the piano, and does nothing more for four minutes and thirty three seconds. The music, which is defined as organized sound and silence, is created by the sounds that each person in the audience hears. As you might imagine, no two performances are the same. In fact, every person, even if they hear the same performance, hears a different composition. 4'33" is an artistic representation of the Buddhist principle of being fully awake to the present moment. Though I have experienced several performances of Cage's piece, I don't think I really understood or appreciated it fully until these last two evenings.

Silence is something that we all seek at one time or another. The next time you think that you have found it, open your mind to the present and experience the music of silence. It is different from that of Palestrina or Bach or Mozart, but is equally beautiful and equally moving - even if it's climax is a talking baby or noisy piece of paper.