Saturday

The long story saga of the line editing goes on and on  continues.

Meanwhile, I played hooky for a bit this morning and hung out with these two cuties:

I made Elannah send me a screen shot of this pic she and Sophia took. They were heading to their favorite clothing consignment shop/thrift store in The Big City and asked me to come along. At first, I begged off due to work constraints, but Elannah (in her uniquely sassy way) pointed out that I would miss out on the experience of hanging out with my daughters. I really didn't need much convincing, as they are so much fun. Plus, I was very flattered that they wanted me to go. And yeah, we had a great time.

Elannah's hair is actually darker brown than Sophia's, but she let a friend practice dyeing her hair for a cosmetology class, and now her hair gets these insanely red highlights in bright sunlight.

I got to see Sian, Tyler, and Nathan earlier this week, as well. Sian called me on Thursday, in tears. Poor girl. She's been struggling. Tyler just had a little surgery, and while he is absolutely fine, Sian is anxious. I've come to realize that my oldest two girls have dealt with anxiety all their lives, but I've only recognized it as Anxiety now that Joseph has been having such a hard time with it. Sian and Gabrielle have lived with it very well, learning how to cope with their irrational fears and worries from a young age. I think their dad and I accidentally helped them learn some good coping skills, and they've learned some on their own, but neither of us recognized their worry and anxiety as anything out of the norm. It wasn't until Joseph started dealing with crippling anxiety that I begin to understand their experience in retrospect.

Anyway, Sian has a tendency to way overthink things and to worry about things that haven't happened and aren't likely to happen. Tyler's surgery is one of them. She is stressing over whether or not he is healing properly (he is) and whether or not he is in pain (he isn't). It's also hard just being a mom to an infant. Now that Nathan has a new job and is still going to school, she's alone with Tyler most of the time. I've been there. It's so, so hard, even if you love your baby more than your own life.

So I spent all afternoon and evening with Sian and Tyler (and Nathan, when he got home). I played with my happy, calm, very good-natured little grandson and had a long talk with Sian. I'm so glad she has Nathan. Sian is a wonderful mother, but when she starts worrying too much, he grounds her, and he is also so good at taking over when she's ready to fall apart. As tired as he is with work and school, he comes home and takes care of his family. Tyler loves it when Daddy comes home.

I told Sian that it's okay to talk to her doctor. It's okay to ask for help. I just wish I could be there in person much more than I can be at the moment. We send each other video messages on the Marco Polo app almost daily, and I love seeing my sweet pea (and her baby).

If only I were independently wealthy already!

Still working on that.

Now I've gotta get back to work. I only have an hour before I have to go to choir rehearsal, which the director has asked me to run because she's in New York City. It's flattering to be trusted to take over when she can't be there, but I much, much prefer to sit in the alto section and have her behind the music stand.

Spring Break

It's Spring Break, y'all!

I'm in my bikini on the beach somewhere southerly and warm, soaking in the rays and partying with my squad.

Haha. No. I'm with my squad, but we're at home, and most of them are enjoying a bout of Influenza Type A with all the symptoms that make it such a joy to experience: coughing, fever, chills, sore throat, and body aches. I had to start Joseph on a round of steroids to avoid an asthma emergency that could otherwise require a trip to the hospital. Party on!

I had a cold last week (or, now that I think about it, a mild version of the flu), but I am too impatient to be sick, so I got better in a couple days.

While I nurse Hubby and the boys back to health, I'm line editing a fiction manuscript for a client. I'm way behind on that. Way behind. Honest question: why am I typing stuff into my blog when I've got a deadline?

While I'm working, have a gander at this adorable picture of my grandson.

Perfect cuteness takes no spring breaks.

The Musings Of A Libra INFJ. You Were Warned.

I've been subbing on a morning high school bus run before my preschool runs. There are a group of ninth grade girls (around 14 to 15 years of age) who sit right behind me, and as they talk loudly enough in order to hear each other in separate seats, I can't help but overhear their conversations.

On Friday morning, they were kind of bragging about not having filters on what they say. I smiled quietly to myself while I listened to them. Their language was clean, they were respectful of each other, and while they were speaking over the noise of the bus engine, they weren't speaking loudly in order to get attention. So, sorry, kids, but you've got filters. And I appreciate that. There were plenty of the kids towards the back of the bus that don't have filters, and I could hear that, too.

Then I started musing about my own filters. Where some people truly say whatever pops into their heads, I've got my filters set to "high." On a scale of one to ten, mine are set at eleven. I hardly ever speak before I think. Even in casual conversation, my brain is constantly calculating word usage, how appropriate any given statement is in that context, and whether or not I might offend where I don't mean to offend--now that I'm not a child with young and irritating siblings. I edit words on paper, but I also edit everything I do and say. My in-laws call me "diplomatic," which is a kind way of saying that I hardly ever blurt out what I truly think. 

It's just become worse over the years, and I was a surprisingly diplomatic young person, as well. 

I'm not saying being diplomatic is bad, of course. Diplomacy is fast becoming a lost art in our increasingly angry, more divisive social culture. But am I quiet about my true feelings because I don't want to give offense or because I hate confrontation so very much? Both, I'm sure. I've got what most people would think are very weird opinions, and I don't care to hear others critique those opinions if they haven't also put in a lot of time researching, learning, and educating themselves about the subject. Also, I haven't made concrete decisions about many subjects. I don't think out loud that much (at least, not to others. I do talk to myself quite a bit to sort out my thoughts), and it takes a long time to quietly ponder my opinions about many things. I hate making snap judgements, and I am also intensely aware that I usually don't have all the facts. My opinions are often fluid, changing as I encounter new information. As good as I am at making conversation, I am not very good at admitting my deeper feelings and opinions until I feel very, very comfortable with that person, and even then, I have quite a big area in my head that is inaccessible to anyone. 

I think the term for that is "guarded."

As guarded as I am, I am always willing to give someone else the benefit of the doubt. If I haven't had experience that the person I'm engaging with has less-than-noble intentions, I prefer to like them as long as possible. Everyone is flawed, and everyone makes both good and bad choices, and I'm willing to meet a person where they're at, not where I wish they would be. It takes quite a bit for me to truly dislike someone, sometimes even if my radar is telling me something is wrong. I even gave my sister's old boyfriend--a narcissistic, horrible, abusive man--quite a bit of leeway for at least a couple days (which is more than he deserved). I'll make up stories to explain stupid behavior in others (in the absence of facts) so that I don't have to walk around feeling angry that people really are out to get me. I can't control other people, so I don't want to be always angry with them.

I think the term for that is "naively optimistic."

This is a trait that drives my friend and bus aide, Kris, bonkers. She's very good at reading people, and she doesn't have a lot of patience with or optimism about most people. She's lived a difficult life filled with a wide mix of men and women who have mostly hurt her. Not all, but most. I'm surprised she's still as optimistic and friendly as she is and that she still believes in love. She's incredibly strong. But she's been abused and neglected, which has made her hyper-aware of body language and intention. My life, on the other hand, has been easy, and I've never been in a situation where I felt like the people around me were truly trying to hurt me either physically or emotionally (parts of junior high and high school excepted, of course). If it came to a contest on who could immediately pick out the people who will be nice to you until you don't give them what they want, Kris wins every time. She's always right about that and I'm almost always wrong. I yield to her superior intuition.

I'm not sad that I am predisposed to like people or to be friendly, though. A kind answer really does turn away wrath in most cases. Being kind and giving people the benefit of the doubt has protected me from harm in many ways, I think, because people will usually try to live up to your positive expectations of them, though that isn't why I am kind. Every person has beauty, even that horrible ex-boyfriend of my sister's or that guy who was incredibly rude for no reason when I parked the bus at the tennis courts last year. I just want to start with the assumption that the beauty is there before I have to learn to walk away from a person because of their behavior. I won't, however, walk into a place or situation that feels dangerous. Kindness has its limits, and I don't have to be personally harmed to know that some people get pleasure out of hurting others.

But back to filters. Facebook is a minefield of problems for me, which is why I happily quit it for so long. The only reason I reactivated my account is because I'm the Relief Society president, and with so many women expressing themselves only through social media, I felt like I should be there so I could catch any issues or needs that might come up in my ward. But I can't bring myself to share my thoughts and opinions there. First of all, who cares? Secondly, I want to like people. My filters are too high to allow me to comfortably share my opinions with people who used to be my friends but are now mostly strangers, and whose opinions, therefore, I don't really value. But this isn't a post about Facebook. It's a wandering, musing post about the question I have about who I am without filters. Without my overly active sense of watching myself in every word and every behavior, what would I think? What would I say? 

That's the true question I have. Who am I? This woman I am, this woman I've become has a wall a thousand miles thick around her. I'm not complaining or saying I've had a hard life, because my life has been absolutely wonderful. I'm just surprised, and I'm just figuring it out, something each and every one of us is doing. I'm a guarded, naively optimistic introvert who can act like an extrovert without often opening the gate to her heart, even if I love deeply and forever once I do love. I'm such a typical INFJ. (laughs) Not sure how I feel about that. The facts are still coming in, so a final judgment can't be made yet.

We'll see where it goes. 

Sorry for this annoyingly self-pandering post. This is me thinking out loud.  

This Is Gallifrey

My brother and his wife are both ridiculously intelligent. It follows, therefore, that their children would most likely turn out to be ridiculously intelligent, as well. And they all are, as well as utterly adorable.

This is Emily, my niece, my brother's and sister-in-law's oldest daughter. She has been composing music since she was little (the music genes run strong in my family), and she's developed into quite an accomplished cellist and pianist. Emily and Elannah are just a couple months apart in age, so Emily is also a senior in high school.

I just couldn't be more proud of her and how she's developed her talents.

Haircut

I cut my hair off.

Here's before:

Here's after:

Why I tend to chop off my hair mid-winter is a mystery even to myself. But despite how cold my neck now is, I really like it. I always like it at this length, so I'm not sure why I let it grow out.

Note to self: get a trim every six to eight weeks, girl!

Ich Habe Meine Neues Lieblingsbuch Gefunden!

There must be a German word for the feeling of finding the latest addition to one of your favorite series by one of your favorite authors sitting on the new arrivals shelf at your local public library. The Germans have some good words for these kinds of things. If you know of this one, please tell me because it needs to get into my lexicon.

As it is, one of the very friendly and indulgent librarians had to put up with me dancing around a bit with the book in my hands.

The book to which I am referring is Alan Bradley's newest Flavia de Luce novel, The Golden Tresses of the Dead.

I tried to read it slowly. I really did. I savored it and made myself wait until bedtime each day before picking it up, but I was still done in three evenings. Too fast. Too fast.

My Next Concert (a virtual experience)

I've had some people ask me what my choir is singing this season. No, really, I have! So I thought I'd put together a virtual concert for those who like that sort of thing. My father-in-law is not in love with the diverse pieces we do. I think he prefers things he's familiar with, but I would find that infinitely bo-o-o-o-oring.

I don't have any recordings of my actual choir, but I've tried to find some really good recordings of the pieces we're doing, and I've listed them in the order in which we're doing them.

Let me set the scene for you:

The lights dim in the mostly concrete Episcopalian sanctuary where we perform. The choir walks in from the back and greets members of the audience, as per our tradition. A tenor walks up and stands on the dais, facing the audience. He begins the call, and the choir members respond wherever they're standing.

(Bonse Aba, a traditional Zambian song, arranged by Andrew Fischer)



The choir is now all gathered on the stand. One of our members greets the audience, cracks a joke or two, and then announces the next two pieces: All Creatures of our God and King, arr. by Mark Hayes; and All That Hath Life and Breath Praise Ye the Lord!, arr. by Rene Clausen.





It's time to change gears. Another choir members announces the next two songs: And So It Goes, by Billy Joel, arr. by Bob Chilcott; and the women will sing The Pink Panther, by Henry Mancini, arr. by Jay Althouse (whether or not we'll be sporting pink boas is yet to be determined).



I couldn't find a YouTube performance with just women that I liked, but this one fits the spirit of it the best.



The choir comes together again for Animal Crackers, Vol. 1, text by Ogden Nash, music by Eric Whitacre (one of my absolute favoritist choral composers. We'll hear his stuff again a bit later in the concert.).

Here are the lyrics:
i. The Panther
The panther is like a leopard
Except it hasn't been peppered.
If you behold a panther crouch
Prepare to say "ouch."
Better yet, if called by a panther
Don't anther.

ii. The Cow
The cow is of the Bovine ilk
One end is moo, the other milk

iii. The Firefly
The firefly's flame is something for which science has no name.
I can think of nothing eerier
than flying around with an unidentified glow
on a person's posterior.



It's time for the men to sing something, and they give us a rousing rendition of Tamure I Tahiti Nei.



It's still time for fun, fast music, so the entire choir gets back together for Fiddlin' Jamboree, by Linda Spevacek. One of our choir members is our fiddler. We do not have cool Aussie accents like these guys, though.



Let's take the mood to a quieter place with our next three pieces. Eric Whitacre wrote a triptych called "Three Songs of Faith." We are singing the first two in that triptych here. The text for all three pieces is based on poems by e.e. cummings. The first two follow each other with no break.

i will wade out, text by e.e. cummings, music by Eric Whitacre.

Find the text here. It's also visual, so I don't want to ruin it.



hope, faith, life, love, text based on a poem by e.e. cummings, music by Eric Whitacre.



While we are not singing the third part of that triptych, we are singing another song based on one of e.e. cummings' poems: i carry your heart with me, text by e.e. cummings, music by David C. Dickau.



It's been quiet and sweet for a while, so it's time to bring it up a notch. Our last two pieces are rousing: Soon-ah Will Be Done, by William L. Dawson; and the impossibly fast Indian tongue-twister Balleilakka, by A.R. Rahman, arr. by Ethan Sperry.





Thank you, thank you for the applause. We're so glad you came! Please enjoy refreshments in the parish hall, and be sure to come to our Christmas concert in December.