Saturday 11/20/2010

There are lots of things that I could have, and maybe even should have done today.

• Make a shopping list of all the necessary items for a home-cooked Thanksgiving meal.
• Go grocery shopping so that I can purchese all the necessary items and get a head start on the preparations for a home-cooked Thanksgiving meal.
• Dig out and then iron the table linens so that I have a worthy place to serve a home-cooked Thanksgiving meal.
• Find a loving new home for the two dogs and two cats that have turned nocturnal. FYI, we have not joined them in this new lifestyle.
• Fluffed the girls’ beds and swept their rooms so that, when they come home this week, home will have that special kind of feeling.
• Cleaned the rest of the house to insure that home would indeed have that special kind of feeling.
• Started writing my final exams so that I can spend next weekend Christmas shopping with everyone else on the face of the earth.
• Made a Christmas gift list so that if I had written my final exams and was going shopping next weekend I would know what gifts I was going to buy.
• Slept all day because I was awake most of the night as a result of the newly nocturnal animals that did not find a new home today and that did not sleep last night.

I didn’t do any of these things. Today was the first day in many days, weeks, maybe even months that we have not had something that we had to do. It was a strange feeling not to have to set the alarm at all. It was odd to read the paper over morning coffee rather than evening tea.

While reading the paper, I saw an ad for something called ICE at the Gaylord Texan Resort. ICE is a display of carved ice sculptures that, this year, depicts scenes from “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” Going to see that sounded like fun. We logged on to the website and sorted out details like times, admission cost, etc. Decision made. That’s what we were going to do today. In fact, we decided to have an entire “date day.”

Before beginning our day of frivolous teen-aged behavior, we did accomplish one thing on the To-Do List; we went to Lowes and bought bathroom faucets and transition pieces to compliment the eighty boxes of hardwood flooring that are sitting in the middle of the den floor acclimating to their new environment before being laid in their permanent position. After that brief moment of responsible adult behavior, we were off for a day of fun.

We had lunch at our favorite pizza place – chicken and spinach pizza with bacon, tomatoes, and lots of cheese. I suspect that this may be the absolute best pizza on the planet! Once we devoured almost the entire pizza, we headed to the Gaylord Texan Resort to see ICE.

We purchased our tickets. (Here the cashier asked us politely if we were eligible for the senior discount. We gave an honest response of “not quite yet, but thanks for asking.” The show begins with a short video explaining the process of creating all of these scenes from ice. It included statistics such as how many tons of ice, what temperatures are necessary, how much refrigeration and how many people it takes to create and maintain these amazing ice sculptures. The whole concept of ICE was inspired by huge ice sculptures that are created each winter in the northern part of China. In fact, it is the skills of a group of Chinese artists that are flown to Texas and spend many hours carving these magnificent ice sculptures of Charles Schultz’s iconic characters.

After the video, everyone is given a parka to wear into the 12 degree area where the Peanuts Gang is waiting. The sights were pretty amazing!

The Peanuts Gang

A familiar image of poor Charlie Brown

And the classic image of Lucy.

Shroder

Pigpen singing his heart out.

Sally

Linus and his blanket

The beloved beagle Snoopy and a happy ending

Not quite ready for our date to be over, we decided to stop for dessert and coffee. To double the pleasure, we opted to have this nightcap at Barnes and Noble. Caffeine, sweets, and books! Life doesn’t get much better than when these three elements converge.

And what better way to bring a wonderful date day to close than by . . . .writing a blog post.

Late Night Dilemma

I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t like to eat out at restaurants unless it is for a specific occasion or because my taste buds yearn for something whose preparatory process exceeds my culinary skills. I really hate the notion of “having” to eat out because there is not enough time to prepare a meal at home. Most food in restaurants these days seems to be primarily variations on a fried theme; little variety exists from one place to the next except in details like whether their fried pickles are chips or spears.

The other thing I loathe about eating out is the dreaded, “So where do you want to eat?” Does it really matter? Everything tastes the same anyway. Sometimes the answer to this question is based on whether the restaurant serves Pepsi or Coke. Often the choice is made depending on where we have coupons. Other times where we eat is simply determined by opting to take the path of least resistance – what is closest? In cases of eating out due to necessity rather than desire, rarely is the restaurant chosen based on wanting something specific to eat.

The other night after the Resounding Harmony concert we were starved and it was late, at least it was late by U.S. weeknight dinnertime standards; it was about 10:30. By this time at night, the already slim food selections become even slimmer because many eating establishments have already closed for the day. We began the dreaded conversation about where to eat. Much to my surprise, when I asked Weber what he wanted he did not respond with the typical, “I don’t care;” he said that he wanted chicken tenders. From this point a conversation about where one could get chicken tenders at 10:30 on a Wednesday night ensued.

Most fast food drive-thru windows were still open, but McNuggets don’t really count as chicken tenders. They barely count as chicken. We entertained the idea of Dairy Queen, but I really didn’t want an entirely fried meal. After running through the gamut of possibilities, we finally settled on IHOP. They are open 24 hours. They were on the way home. They have chicken tenders. You can have something that resembles real vegetables with your chicken tenders. And, they have Diet Coke and bottomless pots of coffee. We were set.

In case you are wondering, IHOP has really good chicken tenders. They are served with mashed potatoes (made from real potatoes not some tasteless white flakes from a box) and steamed broccoli. We ended up eating a rather tasty meal served on a breakable plate and eaten with real utensils instead of what we thought we would be eating - fried something wrapped in paper and eaten with our hands.

When Weber picked up our check he got this funny look on his face though he didn’t say anything. I knew how much our meals were so it shouldn’t have been “sticker shock.” Our server didn’t look like the type who would sign the check with a personal message claiming “for a good time call . . .” Finally I inquired as to what the cause for Weber’s strange facial expression. He said that the total bill was way less than it should have been. We looked at it carefully. At the bottom it said BOGO SD. BOGO, buy one get one, we understood. But SD? We looked around and finally saw a large sign in the window advertising the buy one get one senior discount – SD. In small print it said that this discount was “for our guests 55 and older.” Neither of us is 55. One of us is closer then the other. Nonetheless, we were not deserving of the discount.

Here began our dilemma.

Weber’s first instinct was that we should tell the server that we were not eligible for this discount and ask him to re-calculate our bill and charge us for both meals. My reaction was that we can’t do that because it would embarrass the young server. As we contemplated what the right thing to do was, I realized that part of our difference in opinion over how to handle this situation was due to conflicting views on the whole concept of aging.

My thinking that correcting the server would embarrass him is rooted in the idea that in our culture aging is viewed as a negative process. To assume someone to be older than they actually are is considered an insult. I didn’t want the server to think that he had insulted us and therefore we were upset. From that regard, it didn’t bother me at all that he thought one or both of us was over 55.

In other cultures, with age comes wisdom and with that wisdom comes respect. One earns that position of respect in society by reaching a certain age. Another way to look at our late night dilemma is that we have not yet reached that age of wisdom and were therefore not worthy of the respect shown to us in the gift of the senior discount.

Despite our somewhat lengthy conversation on the morally and ethically correct thing to do in this situation, we decided not to embarrass the server and kept quiet as to our actual ages. The money that we saved on this meal went to feed those who otherwise may have gone hungry.

Saturday Chills

This first Saturday in November was a day, for me, that was marked by chills, all kinds of chills.

The chills began at 7:30 am this morning when the alarm went off the first time. I was huddled under the covers, but I could feel the chill in the morning air. Harley and the kitten were strategically positioned under the covers as well. Harley was pushed up against me and the kitten found a warm spot between me and Weber. We were all warm and comfy. I thought to myself how nice it would be to stay in this position for a few more days, or at least a few more hours, or even just a few more minutes.

Wasn't happening. We had to get going because we needed to be in downtown Dallas for a rehearsal at 10:15. We all reluctantly rolled ourselves out of bed and quickly made the bed so that none of us would be the least bit tempted to crawl back under those covers where at this point it was still quite toasty.

I opened the door to let the dogs out and the two acres beyond our backdoor were covered by a thin layer of frost that glistened in the morning sunlight. Looking back on this first glimpse of today's morn, I can say that it really was beautiful but at that very moment, I was overcome by the 33 degree blast of air rushing through the door rather than this vision of nature's beauty. So, no picture. Sorry!

We dressed and had a warm breakfast and a few cups of coffee before heading out. I am singing with Resounding Harmony, a philanthropic chorus, in Dallas. This year's fall concert is Wednesday at the Meyerson Symphony Center, the home of the Dallas Symphony Orchestra. I am almost embarrassed to admit that this was my first visit to the Meyerson; as one who proclaims to be a musician, I should have been to many symphony concerts, but I haven't. After many years of spending my evenings at volleyball, basketball, and soccer games, which by the way I don't regret at all, I now have the opportunity to spend my evenings at the symphony if I choose. But, my first experience at the Meyerson will be from the stage rather than the audience. But first . . .

This was the first thing that caught my attention after parking downtown.
I was OK until I saw that there was a human being up in the cage of this massive construction crane.

Here marks today's second experience of chills, chills that were very different from the first. I am scared of heights. As I stood in the crisp morning air, I thought to myself, I am so glad that it is not me up there. I may not be warm in my bed, but I am not hundreds of feet up in the air looking down on the Dallas' Arts District. Perspective is everything!

I'm not sure whether these three members of the construction crew are, like me, counting their blessings because their feet are firmly planted on the ground or if they are envious of their co-worker who is sky high - literally.

Once the heart palpitations stopped and my legs felt more like human legs than Jell-O, we headed across the street to the Meyerson, an architectural piece of art. The angular lines of this building create fascinating structural illusions.

After checking in with security, we made our way through the belly of this hall eventually being spit out backstage after passing the mailboxes and lockers of the great musicians who make up the Dallas Symphony Orchestra. In some ways, being backstage was kind of magical and in other ways it was confirmation that at our root, we are all the same. Some of the orchestra members' lockers were covered with drawings obviously given to them by special children in their lives; some had newspaper reviews; still others had cartoons and stickers. - these momentos were much like those things we all have on our desks and/or refrigerators.

Here are a few images from backstage.

This is a sound proof practice room for musicians to warm up. Presumably it is reserved for soloists. This little cubicle would be a wonderful candidate for "If These Walls Could Talk."

Scattered behind the stage are cases containing . . .I'm not sure what. Large instrument of some kind, probably.

This is the green room, the place where performers come to relax before making their way on stage.

Resounding Harmony did a complete technical run-through of our upcoming performance. Being in the hall was amazing. Listening in the hall was breath taking. Singing in the hall brought head-to-toe chills - third time for chills today. And again, very different from the first two instances.

Our concert is to benefit the North Texas Food Bank. All of the pieces on the concert are emotionally charged works whose lyrics address the many aspects of food in our lives. These passionate words and the hall's acoustic majesty combine to bring chills that result from both physical and emotional stimuli.

Here is a view of the house taken from my vantage point on stage. (I snapped all of these pictures on the sly with my phone so please don't judge their photographic merit.)

I can only imagine that the goose bumps I experienced today while singing to an empty house will be magnified ten-fold when it is faces rather than rows of empty chairs staring back at us.

After rehearsal, we had a nice lunch with a fellow singer and student of mine before returning to the tasks of everyday life, grocery shopping and laundry. As we were making our way through the last few aisles of the grocery store, I suddenly realized that I didn't feel very well. I was tired, my body ached, and I was freezing. These are not good signs.

By the time we got home, I was trembling with chills, the kind of chills that only accompany a fever. The thermometer confirmed that I do indeed have an elevated temperature. These chills are my least favorite of the day. So, I am going to end this here and get some rest so that I am feeling well for Wednesday's concert.

Time Change

I am getting to that age where I find myself saying, “Times sure have changed!” I am learning to live happily with some of these changes.

Like .. .

• Grocery sacks that have moved from paper to plastic to reusable
• Paying all my bills without licking a single stamp or envelope
• The ability to carry every music recording I own with me at all times thanks to my iPod
• Pets can be micro chipped so that should they get lost, they can be reunited with their rightful owner
• Google, Amazon, and Restaurant.com
• Blogs
• Debit cards
• Post-it notes
• K-cups

Then there are those things that I really don’t like . . .

• Pre-packaged food
• The fact that it is nearly impossible to reach a human being when telephoning a business
• Email and texting as a primary means of communication
• Online textbooks and college classes that are 100% online
• The opinion that making things yourself is an anomaly
• The notion that bigger is always better
• Multitasking
• Web-cams
• Junk mail

As we would expect, many of these “advancements” have caused changes in our educational process. Kids just don’t need to be taught the same things that we were taught “back in the olden days.” Girls don’t need to take home economics anymore because they don’t need to know how to sew or cook. As far as they are concerned, cakes come from boxes and bread comes from a plastic sack. Fried chicken comes from KFC and vegetables are transported frozen from the North Pole by the Jolly Green Giant.

And make clothing? That requires knowing things like the difference between lycra and linen, what is fusible interfacing, and the meaning of bias. It also means accepting the fact that the tape measure never lies. Why spend time teaching these things when some form of clothing is available almost everywhere you go and for much less money than it would cost to make it from scratch.

Schools don’t teach typing anymore; they teach keyboarding, a skill that is a little different. Typing on the computer, or keyboarding, doesn’t carry with it a love-hate relationship with carbon paper and correction tape or the hard fact that some mistakes can’t be corrected and you may just have to start over.

And then there’s penmanship . . .Does anyone learn penmanship anymore? Based on what I have seen from my own students, I don’t think so. Children no longer learn how to form all those perfectly proportioned loops and lines that result in cursive handwriting. No more do they have to work to perfect their writing skills to achieve the honor of being allowed to write with an ink pen in class. These days we are lucky if students come to class with any kind of writing utensil.

The prevailing wisdom is that students don’t need to worry about legible handwriting because everything is now typed – or is that keyboarded? Very rarely do people send handwritten notes or letters or even invitations. With texting, email and Evites at our fingertips, why waste time and energy to write a letter and then have to wait for it to be delivered via snail mail? In an era where our motto is “time is money,” such a means of communication is obviously inefficient and old fashioned.

I wonder what the study of historical documents will look like two hundred years from now. Will the rare book rooms in libraries just be walls of encased hard drives that can’t be accessed because their technology is antiquated? For that matter, will libraries as we know them even exist? Research skills that require using a card catalog and actually putting your hands on a real book are another thing that is disappearing from the educational process thanks to the Internet. The Internet is a primary source, right?

And here’s another question. Is it really necessary for children to learn how to read a clock, one with hands and a face? Aren’t most of our time telling devices now digital – our microwaves, DVD players, computers, cell phones, cars, oven timers, and alarm clocks? Every now and then you will see an “old-time” (no pun intended) clock in a public place, but how many people really look at them? We are all looking at our cell phones and iPads, which, in this digital age, will supply us with the time – digitally.

The ability to tell time by reading the hands on a clock used to be an integral part of our human knowledge. I can remember all through elementary school doing worksheets to hone this essential skill. Such is not the case any longer. Many children view hands on a clock in the same light in which they view a dial on a telephone – “What in the world are you talking about?”

Recently I was talking with a friend whose mother is in her seventies and is experiencing problems with memory loss. He took her to the doctor to be evaluated to see if she is entering the early stages of dementia or Alzheimer’s. One of the tasks that the doctor asked her to perform in this evaluation was to draw the numbers on a clock, presumably because this is a deeply ingrained skill. There is perhaps only one or two more generations for whom this is truly the case. What will Alzheimer’s tests look like for the children of today?

When today's youth has become senior citizens and are being tested for memory issues will they be asked to draw the layout of a TV remote? Respond to questions using only text speak? Give instructions for how to use the microwave to make popcorn? Recite their credit card number – including the 3-digit security code? Articulate how to order properly a medium café mocha with an extra shot, skim milk, and no whipped cream at Starbuck’s?

There are some scary times ahead!

Right now, I have until the big hand is on the three and the little hand is on the four to use my favorite fountain pen to write a heartfelt letter to the one I love while sitting in the library amidst shelves of books. I am going to take advantage of this situation before it is too late!

The Score is Tied

After our second night in the old/new house, the battle between its two male occupants is tied.

Male Parental Unit:1 Adidas:1

See below for highlights from this week's match up.

"The Point Earning Move"

For details of the first match between these two slumber seeking boys, please see this blog's previous post. Stay tuned to see who wins the tie-breaking match. The winner will snooze away on his very own blow up air mattress. (Bed linens are not included in the prize package.)

First Night

We spent our first night in our “new” house this week. Well, it’s not really new, but it feels new. You may remember that back in the spring we began renovations on Weber’s house in Dallas. We had hoped to move before school started in August; for many reasons this did not happen. These are not necessarily bad reasons, they are just reasons. And for these same reasons, despite the fact that we spent the night in the house, the renovations are still not complete. That being said, progress is being made.

We have Saltillo tile floors in half the house. The other half is concrete slab awaiting hardwood flooring. We have some painted walls, some base boards, and some crown molding. Throughout the house are forty five can lights. The guys at Home Depot who had to climb to the very top shelf to get the four dozen light bulbs that we needed for these forty five lights love us. They love us because they had to work over the weekend instead of going to the Texas State Fair. Riding the lift to those tip-top shelves is almost like experiencing the Midway at the fair.

We have three new functional toilets. (This is a really good thing to have when considering overnight accommodations!) We have running water in one shower and one sink. And another perk – the hot water heaters are hooked up! We even have a towel warmer, which is great on cold winter mornings. Unfortunately it is still hot here so this luxury went unappreciated on our first night’s stay except as a plain old towel bar. The problem with this whole scenario – the shower, the sink and the towel warmer are each in a different bathroom. So, we had progressive bedtime and morning rituals. Brush your teeth in one bathroom. Move to the next to take a shower; then to the last to hang the damp towels. This all sounds a little convoluted, but it worked.

Did I mention that we have no kitchen? Let me rephrase that. We have a place for a kitchen; it just has nothing in it except a refrigerator. Well, that is not exactly true either. It does have an oven and dishwasher too; they just happen to be sitting in the middle of the floor still packaged and not connected to any power source. The kitchen walls do have pencil lines showing where the eventual cabinets, appliances and sink will go. But right now, the kitchen exists only in our very vivid imaginations. We did manage a cold breakfast of fruit and yogurt and a bedtime snack of popcorn (store-bought) and diet coke. Meal preparation beyond that level was impossible. As with the bathroom situation, this worked for the short term as well.

The only furniture in the house right now to speak of is a recliner and a straight back chair. Neither is conducive to a good night’s sleep. We have taken a few naps together in the recliner but this manner of sleep has about a thirty minute limit. Beyond that, the only things that go to sleep are arms and legs whose circulation has been cut off. We solved this dilemma by taking an air mattress with us. Oh, and we also had to take the dogs with us.

The dogs have been going with us on days when I have late night rehearsals. Our contractor, Paul, and the dogs have become big buddies. They all seem to enjoy each other’s company. How many people get a contractor and dog sitter all in one?

On the days when we have left the dogs at the house, we have been spreading a flannel sheet on the floor for them – the same flannel sheet that we now needed to put on the air mattress. Though we had taken the mattress for us to sleep on, we had neglected to take any dog beds. Not a problem; we could run to Target and get a dog bed. Did you know that dog beds at Target are $40! You can buy a brand new comforter or a twin air bed for less than a dog bed. We decided that the dogs could just sleep on the old towels that were already at the house.

We aired up the mattress and I put the sheets on it. We then began the pilgrimage from bathroom to bathroom and readied ourselves for bed. We returned to our bed to discover that the dog bed dilemma had been resolved. Adidas was curled up on his male parental unit’s side of the bed. He looked quite comfy and not the least bit upset with us for not spending $40 on a bed for him. I laughed. The above mentioned male parental unit was not so amused. In fact, he was so unamused that I didn’t have time to take a picture of our precious black lab all tucked in for the night. In an instant, Adidas was back on his pile of towels and we humans had claimed our spots on the air mattress. Harley managed to wiggle her way under the covers next to me. Why should this first night in the new house be any different from any other night?

Many would see this whole experience as “roughing it.” To me, it had the feeling of perfect simplicity. We had no television, internet or kitchen sink, but we had hot and cold running water, a warm place to sleep, a fridge with diet coke, and each other. What more do we really need? Truthfully? Not much.

The reason that we had this little slumber party is because we had several nights in a row of late meetings and rehearsal on top of our usual early morning departures for school. Staying this one night saved about a hundred miles and two and half to three hours of driving. This in itself was worth the trade of no internet or kitchen sink! It gave us a taste of what life will be like once we finally move.

I have to say, I am looking forward to that time. So are the dogs. After a good night’s rest, Adidas assumes the role of site foreman in an effort to keep things on track so that we can move as soon as possible.

The Last One Standing

Yesterday I walked into the office at school and our beloved administrative assistant was filling a bowl with this year’s first round of Halloween candy. Today as I passed by this same bowl, this is what I saw.
What is it about the last piece of any kind of food? I see similar images when I walk by the doughnut table at church on Sunday mornings. By the time the late service begins, one lonely doughnut sits on a platter that it once shared with four or five dozen friends. And sometimes, there sits only half of a doughnut. Someone really wanted that last one, but couldn't bear, for whatever reason, to take the whole last morsel of this sacred Sunday confection.

We have all been to parties where trays of hors d’oeuvres linger on the table waiting for someone to swallow their pride and eat the last one. Why is there this hesitation? Why won’t we just snatch that last bite with the same vigor that we do the first? Or the middle? Is something wrong with it? Is it the one that every other guest has had their fingers on? Is it the one that everyone but you saw as having a fly garnish only moments ago? Is it the one that someone carried around on their plate and then returned to the platter because they didn’t like it? Surely not. Or, maybe so.

Maybe this poor lonely piece of candy pictured above that has found its place as the jack-o-lantern’s nose is like that last kid who gets picked for the basketball team at recess. Nobody wants him on their team because he’s too slow, too short, doesn’t have the right shoes, or would really rather play hopscotch with the girls. Are any of these good reasons for exclusion?

Is this a case of “saving the best for last?” For instance, as the Christmas parade, passes by, anxious children wait while floats carrying paper mache snowmen and red and green clad elves roll by followed by marching bands playing renditions of those nostalgic tunes that we all recognize as heralding the holidays. Fire trucks cruise by. Horses prance past. Every now and then there is even an ambling elephant. But all most of these excited children really want to see is the last unit of the parade – Santa Claus. Nobody thinks of watching nearly the entire parade and then leaving before the final participant has made his appearance. In this case, the last is the best, at least in the eyes of all those children who are pretty sure that they have been nice all year long.

Last is a hard place to get a grip on. Sometimes being last is a good thing and at other times it is definitely not so good. And sometimes it is hard to know the difference – like in the case of having the last word.

And then we can wrestle with the idea that “the last shall be first.”

I think I will go have a piece of candy and ponder this one a little more.