Mouths of babes
Watching Claire learn to talk is truly fascinating. Several times a day, she becomes quite chatty in her own language. It's like a combination of Swedish, bushman and Chinese. "Pthoga chithpa ee-juh hakimij pekethuch." (That's the best phonetic equivalent I can give.)
She has a few English words now that she uses accurately: da-da, ma-ma, bah (ball), dok (dog), keeh (kitty), ka (cat). When we were at the grocery store the other day, two little boys were playing with some playgound balls for sale at the store. Claire watched them, then said distinctly, "BAH." :-)
I do wonder, however, if we confuse her calling Keats "cat" and "kitty cat" alternately. And is it confusing that both Nicky and her big stuffed Clifford are "dog"? Can a baby really get that one is "real dog" and the other "pretend dog"?
It seems like understanding a category of things is pretty complex thinking. Especially dogs, which vary hugely in size, color and shape. And the dogs she sees are either real, toys, photos or illustrations.
I bet that if I showed her a picture of a horse, she would call that a "dok" too. The only thing she calls "keeh" or "ka" is Keats himself.
6.19.2003
Road trip
We're getting pretty excited about our trip to the BH conference in Florida later this summer. We're going to meet and stay with some great people in our travels. One night we're planning to motel it in eastern Alabama, and Joel just booked the room. When he asked about their pet policy, they said, "shue-ur, we tayke pay-ets." Gosh I love hearing "pets" as a two syllable word. :-) I have to remind Joel that when a server asks if you want a Coke, the correct answer is "Yes, I'll have a root beer."
Any other key idioms we Yankees should know about? Rick? Betsy? Sarah?
We're getting pretty excited about our trip to the BH conference in Florida later this summer. We're going to meet and stay with some great people in our travels. One night we're planning to motel it in eastern Alabama, and Joel just booked the room. When he asked about their pet policy, they said, "shue-ur, we tayke pay-ets." Gosh I love hearing "pets" as a two syllable word. :-) I have to remind Joel that when a server asks if you want a Coke, the correct answer is "Yes, I'll have a root beer."
Any other key idioms we Yankees should know about? Rick? Betsy? Sarah?
6.16.2003
New path
Well, I've done it. I resigned from my job today. My last day will be July 15. I figured it would be a good idea to give a month's notice instead of the required three weeks since there's no other employer chomping at the bit for me to get started.
I feel slightly light headed. Giving up the salary makes me a bit nervous, but I'm so excited about the prospect of being with Claire all day.
Well, I've done it. I resigned from my job today. My last day will be July 15. I figured it would be a good idea to give a month's notice instead of the required three weeks since there's no other employer chomping at the bit for me to get started.
I feel slightly light headed. Giving up the salary makes me a bit nervous, but I'm so excited about the prospect of being with Claire all day.
6.10.2003
Vegan cookies
I've never tried to cook for someone with dairy and gluten allergies like Annie does (you're heroic!), but I have made Thanksgiving dinner for family members who are vegan. The real trick was coming up with desserts that don't contain eggs or milk. Fruit pies work, of course. Then I remembered this eggless cookie recipe that's a great standby when you realize there are no eggs in the house. It also happens to contain no animal products. (Warning: these are not low fat! (-:)
Swedish Coconut Cookies
2 C margerine
2 C sugar
3 1/4 C flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
2 C shredded coconut
2 tsp vanilla
Preheat oven to 350 F. Cream margerine and sugar. Add flour, baking powder and baking soda. Stir in coconut and vanilla. Drop by spoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheets. Bake 10 to 12 minutes. Makes 7 to 8 dozen.
I've never tried to cook for someone with dairy and gluten allergies like Annie does (you're heroic!), but I have made Thanksgiving dinner for family members who are vegan. The real trick was coming up with desserts that don't contain eggs or milk. Fruit pies work, of course. Then I remembered this eggless cookie recipe that's a great standby when you realize there are no eggs in the house. It also happens to contain no animal products. (Warning: these are not low fat! (-:)
Swedish Coconut Cookies
2 C margerine
2 C sugar
3 1/4 C flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
2 C shredded coconut
2 tsp vanilla
Preheat oven to 350 F. Cream margerine and sugar. Add flour, baking powder and baking soda. Stir in coconut and vanilla. Drop by spoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheets. Bake 10 to 12 minutes. Makes 7 to 8 dozen.
6.07.2003
Rainy day treat
I got a craving for an old childhood favorite today, so I whipped up a batch of cookies we used to call "fudgies." My brother and I first had them at our school cafeteria in a small, rural public school in northern Pennsylvania (K-6 and about 160 students). Mom was able to get the recipe from one of the cafeteria ladies.
They take about 15 minutes to make, and no baking required. It's a good recipe for kids to try because it's easy to make and has few ingredients. The cookies look a little like something you'd find in a diaper, but they're a very tasty chocolate/peanut butter treat. The appearance has never kept people from devouring them when I've taken them to parties and church events.
Fudgies
2 C sugar
1/2 C margerine
1/2 C milk
1/3 C unsweetened cocoa powder
3 C rolled oats
1/2 C peanut butter
1 tsp. vanilla extract
Bring sugar, margerine, milk and cocoa to boil in a large saucepan and boil 1 minute. Remove from heat. Quickly stir in oats, peanut butter and vanilla until oats are covered with cocoa mixture. Drop by teaspoonfuls onto waxed paper. Let stand until set. Makes about 4 dozen.
I got a craving for an old childhood favorite today, so I whipped up a batch of cookies we used to call "fudgies." My brother and I first had them at our school cafeteria in a small, rural public school in northern Pennsylvania (K-6 and about 160 students). Mom was able to get the recipe from one of the cafeteria ladies.
They take about 15 minutes to make, and no baking required. It's a good recipe for kids to try because it's easy to make and has few ingredients. The cookies look a little like something you'd find in a diaper, but they're a very tasty chocolate/peanut butter treat. The appearance has never kept people from devouring them when I've taken them to parties and church events.
Fudgies
2 C sugar
1/2 C margerine
1/2 C milk
1/3 C unsweetened cocoa powder
3 C rolled oats
1/2 C peanut butter
1 tsp. vanilla extract
Bring sugar, margerine, milk and cocoa to boil in a large saucepan and boil 1 minute. Remove from heat. Quickly stir in oats, peanut butter and vanilla until oats are covered with cocoa mixture. Drop by teaspoonfuls onto waxed paper. Let stand until set. Makes about 4 dozen.
Taste in the disco era
Well, I ruffled a few feathers when I apologized for being a Carpenters fan as a child. Keep in mind that I have older siblings who were in their teens and 20s in this era. I distinctly recall their attitude toward 70s pop is that is was decidedly uncool. Cool people listened to stuff like ELO and Led Zeppelin. Not folksy songs with happy lyrics. Folk was cool only if it was anti-establishment.
So I guess it would be more accurate for me to describe my childhood taste as "uncool" rather than simply "bad." As Sarah pointed out, Karen Carpenter's vocal quality is superior to a majority of pop stars.
If we really want to talk about bad taste in music, well, there's my parents. They were teens during the Swing era and got to jump, jive and wail to all this awesome 40s dance music, only to turn into Muzak afficianados in later adulthood. If you think "The Girl from Ipanema" is bad, you should hear "Thriller" played by a 101 string orchestra. Yikes. (I wish I was kidding. The local "easy listening" station truly did play such a rendition when I was in high school.)
Well, I ruffled a few feathers when I apologized for being a Carpenters fan as a child. Keep in mind that I have older siblings who were in their teens and 20s in this era. I distinctly recall their attitude toward 70s pop is that is was decidedly uncool. Cool people listened to stuff like ELO and Led Zeppelin. Not folksy songs with happy lyrics. Folk was cool only if it was anti-establishment.
So I guess it would be more accurate for me to describe my childhood taste as "uncool" rather than simply "bad." As Sarah pointed out, Karen Carpenter's vocal quality is superior to a majority of pop stars.
If we really want to talk about bad taste in music, well, there's my parents. They were teens during the Swing era and got to jump, jive and wail to all this awesome 40s dance music, only to turn into Muzak afficianados in later adulthood. If you think "The Girl from Ipanema" is bad, you should hear "Thriller" played by a 101 string orchestra. Yikes. (I wish I was kidding. The local "easy listening" station truly did play such a rendition when I was in high school.)
6.03.2003
Inci-dental
Yesterday I got my first filling in seven years. Not a bad record considering the number of fillings I've collected so far (like the five I got seven years ago, plus a root canal).
I'd forgotten how surreal it feels to have half your face numb. It amazed me that I could talk to the receptionist after my appointment. And that people didn't point and stare as I walked down the street. I was half afraid to look at my reflection, convinced my head had swollen to twice its normal size on one side.
For an even more surreal dental experience, nothing beats nitrous oxide. Under this disembodying drug, you don't really care that the dentist has his knee on your chest trying to yank out a long-rooted molar. I still think of floating in a drug-induced haze whenever I hear the Carpenters, the cassette I usually chose to listen to through seven professional extractions prior to getting braces at age 11. (Yes, I had atrocious taste in music as a child. I blame my bad taste on the ugly clothes I was forced to wear in the 70s.)
Yesterday I got my first filling in seven years. Not a bad record considering the number of fillings I've collected so far (like the five I got seven years ago, plus a root canal).
I'd forgotten how surreal it feels to have half your face numb. It amazed me that I could talk to the receptionist after my appointment. And that people didn't point and stare as I walked down the street. I was half afraid to look at my reflection, convinced my head had swollen to twice its normal size on one side.
For an even more surreal dental experience, nothing beats nitrous oxide. Under this disembodying drug, you don't really care that the dentist has his knee on your chest trying to yank out a long-rooted molar. I still think of floating in a drug-induced haze whenever I hear the Carpenters, the cassette I usually chose to listen to through seven professional extractions prior to getting braces at age 11. (Yes, I had atrocious taste in music as a child. I blame my bad taste on the ugly clothes I was forced to wear in the 70s.)
5.31.2003
Frail flower
Last year I got just one bloom on my peony because of the dry winter. The second day it was in bloom, a rain storm soaked open, petaly, lone flower. It collapsed under the weight of all the water it caught, then all the petals fell off. The plant's dark, glossy leaves are lovely by themselves, but I was sorely disappointed to lose the flamboyant flower.
Sadly, these enormous, fragrant blooms (they're about 5" in diameter) only seem to last a week at the most, even in the best conditions. This year I was able to rescue my peonies to enjoy indoors before they were decimated by rain. (They opened this morning, and a thunderstorm is in the forecast for tonight.) Here are four of the seven blossoms for the year.
Any green thumbs out there, is it possible to get a second set of blooms on a peony planted in the Mid-Atlantic region, or is this plant "done" for the season?
Last year I got just one bloom on my peony because of the dry winter. The second day it was in bloom, a rain storm soaked open, petaly, lone flower. It collapsed under the weight of all the water it caught, then all the petals fell off. The plant's dark, glossy leaves are lovely by themselves, but I was sorely disappointed to lose the flamboyant flower.
Sadly, these enormous, fragrant blooms (they're about 5" in diameter) only seem to last a week at the most, even in the best conditions. This year I was able to rescue my peonies to enjoy indoors before they were decimated by rain. (They opened this morning, and a thunderstorm is in the forecast for tonight.) Here are four of the seven blossoms for the year.
Any green thumbs out there, is it possible to get a second set of blooms on a peony planted in the Mid-Atlantic region, or is this plant "done" for the season?
5.29.2003
New heights
Joel beat me to the punch blogging about Claire's latest gross motor skill feat--stair climbing. I don't think it's time to panic yet. First, she only climbed one step. Second, when I tried to get her to repeat the action, she lost interest and crawled away.
I'm just glad that our staircase has so many bends, the most stairs she could tumble down at a time is about eight.
Joel beat me to the punch blogging about Claire's latest gross motor skill feat--stair climbing. I don't think it's time to panic yet. First, she only climbed one step. Second, when I tried to get her to repeat the action, she lost interest and crawled away.
I'm just glad that our staircase has so many bends, the most stairs she could tumble down at a time is about eight.
Spam, spam, eggs and spam
I've noticed a disturbing trend. I seem to get a lot of e-mail letters from strangers claiming to be related to some important person in Africa or Asia whose assets are tied up because of a military coup or some other disaster. Only with my help can they save the family fortune, they claim. By helping them move millions of dollars out of their home country to a U.S. bank, they promise me a large cut of the money. All I have to do is provide a bank account number and several other pieces of personal information, or simply up-front cash.
Of course, armed with this information, these strangers can easily siphon thousands from bank accounts. Or they simply take the up-front money and run. From what I've heard, this is an extremely old scam. Entire cottage industries have sprung up around swindling gullible Americans using this type of story. The Internet just makes it cheaper to reach more potential victims.
I'm still trying to figure out how so much of this variety of spam gets past the office firewall to end up in my business e-mail account. I probably get four a week and delete them all.
I've noticed a disturbing trend. I seem to get a lot of e-mail letters from strangers claiming to be related to some important person in Africa or Asia whose assets are tied up because of a military coup or some other disaster. Only with my help can they save the family fortune, they claim. By helping them move millions of dollars out of their home country to a U.S. bank, they promise me a large cut of the money. All I have to do is provide a bank account number and several other pieces of personal information, or simply up-front cash.
Of course, armed with this information, these strangers can easily siphon thousands from bank accounts. Or they simply take the up-front money and run. From what I've heard, this is an extremely old scam. Entire cottage industries have sprung up around swindling gullible Americans using this type of story. The Internet just makes it cheaper to reach more potential victims.
I'm still trying to figure out how so much of this variety of spam gets past the office firewall to end up in my business e-mail account. I probably get four a week and delete them all.
5.26.2003
Taken to task
Multitasking is not for amateurs. My big misadventure for the week happened after a tiring grocery shopping trip, slogging around the store with a cold and sore throat. I'd nearly finished unpacking the groceries when one of my girlfriends called. I chatted away while putting tea on to boil, packing away food items and tidying up.
After making the tea, I noticed the pan under the set of burners needed to be cleaned. So I pulled away the metal grilles from our gas stove with my bare hands. My girlfriend heard a shriek and a crash. Yup, I grabbed one of the grilles over the burner where I'd just boiled water. Good friend to have on the end of the line, this ICU nurse. She talked me through how to care for my burns while I sobbed through the intense pain.
I now have several second-degree burns on my right hand, thankfully none on my finger tips. I have some very interesting blisters, though. The first night was the worst. I slept clutching a re-freezable chill pack for the cooler.
Talking on the phone is dangerous. So just send me e-mail from now on, thanks.
Multitasking is not for amateurs. My big misadventure for the week happened after a tiring grocery shopping trip, slogging around the store with a cold and sore throat. I'd nearly finished unpacking the groceries when one of my girlfriends called. I chatted away while putting tea on to boil, packing away food items and tidying up.
After making the tea, I noticed the pan under the set of burners needed to be cleaned. So I pulled away the metal grilles from our gas stove with my bare hands. My girlfriend heard a shriek and a crash. Yup, I grabbed one of the grilles over the burner where I'd just boiled water. Good friend to have on the end of the line, this ICU nurse. She talked me through how to care for my burns while I sobbed through the intense pain.
I now have several second-degree burns on my right hand, thankfully none on my finger tips. I have some very interesting blisters, though. The first night was the worst. I slept clutching a re-freezable chill pack for the cooler.
Talking on the phone is dangerous. So just send me e-mail from now on, thanks.
5.18.2003
The One
The Matrix: Reloaded. Whoa. Just as intense as I'd expected. Also a lot more confusing. I'm not sure what to make of some of the new plot points, and the multiple new enemies to deal with.
I also wonder how much Cadillac paid to get their cars placed in the freeway chase scene. I mean come on, this is the brand one usually associates with seniors in golf pants driving under the speed limit, not svelte women in leather weaving through traffic at furious speeds dodging bullets.
Anyone with a knowledge of physics, is it really possible when fighting on top of a moving vehicle to land in the same spot after jumping in the air? It seems like the wind drag would put you further back. Yeah, yeah, it's the fake-o land of the Matrix, anything is supposedly possible. But this film requires you to suspend your disbelief an awful lot. The line between, "wow, cool" and "yeah, right" was getting a little thin for me at times.
Definitely worth seeing on the big screen, as long as you have time afterwards to unwind from this adrenaline rush.
The Matrix: Reloaded. Whoa. Just as intense as I'd expected. Also a lot more confusing. I'm not sure what to make of some of the new plot points, and the multiple new enemies to deal with.
I also wonder how much Cadillac paid to get their cars placed in the freeway chase scene. I mean come on, this is the brand one usually associates with seniors in golf pants driving under the speed limit, not svelte women in leather weaving through traffic at furious speeds dodging bullets.
Anyone with a knowledge of physics, is it really possible when fighting on top of a moving vehicle to land in the same spot after jumping in the air? It seems like the wind drag would put you further back. Yeah, yeah, it's the fake-o land of the Matrix, anything is supposedly possible. But this film requires you to suspend your disbelief an awful lot. The line between, "wow, cool" and "yeah, right" was getting a little thin for me at times.
Definitely worth seeing on the big screen, as long as you have time afterwards to unwind from this adrenaline rush.
5.17.2003
La Luna
I saw a lunar eclipse for the first time on Thursday after babysitting for hierogrammate's kids. I can't believe it's taken 34 years to see this fairly common astronomical event. (BTW it was way cool.)
I really need to get out more.
I saw a lunar eclipse for the first time on Thursday after babysitting for hierogrammate's kids. I can't believe it's taken 34 years to see this fairly common astronomical event. (BTW it was way cool.)
I really need to get out more.
5.13.2003
Above and below stairs
Anyone keeping up with the new PBS show "Manor House"? It's a "living history" sort of show styled after "1900 House" and "Frontier House," in which contemporary people step back in time and live for an extended time in another era.
In "Manor House," one family lives "above stairs" in wealth and ease as Edwardians, while a group of volunteers serve them. It's kind of cool that a several of the volunteer servants have relatives who were "in service" and wanted to get an idea of what Granny's or Great Aunt Betty's life was really like.
By episode four, the servants are getting pretty exhausted and the younger ones are really chafing under the conventions of servitude. But interestingly, it's the wealthy unmarried aunt above stairs who becomes so depressed she needs to leave for a while. It was surprising to learn that in some ways, it was probably more fulfilling to be a parlormaid than a rich spinster during this era in terms of feeling like you contribute and matter.
Anyone keeping up with the new PBS show "Manor House"? It's a "living history" sort of show styled after "1900 House" and "Frontier House," in which contemporary people step back in time and live for an extended time in another era.
In "Manor House," one family lives "above stairs" in wealth and ease as Edwardians, while a group of volunteers serve them. It's kind of cool that a several of the volunteer servants have relatives who were "in service" and wanted to get an idea of what Granny's or Great Aunt Betty's life was really like.
By episode four, the servants are getting pretty exhausted and the younger ones are really chafing under the conventions of servitude. But interestingly, it's the wealthy unmarried aunt above stairs who becomes so depressed she needs to leave for a while. It was surprising to learn that in some ways, it was probably more fulfilling to be a parlormaid than a rich spinster during this era in terms of feeling like you contribute and matter.
5.11.2003
Sabbath reflection
O Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder
Consider all the worlds thy hands have made.
I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder,
Thy power throughout the universe displayed.
Then sings my soul, my savior God, to thee;
How great thou art, how great thou art!
Then sings my soul, my savior God, to thee:
How great thou art, how great thou art!
When through the woods and forest glades I wander
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees;
When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur
And hear the brook and feel the gentle breeze:
And when I think that God, his Son not sparing,
Sent him to die, I scarce can take it in;
That on the cross, my burden gladly bearing,
He bled and died to take away my sin:
When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation
And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart!
Then I shall bow in humble adoration,
And there proclaim, "My God, how great thou art!"
Back in college when I sang with a music ministry group, I remember visiting a church with an active deaf ministry. This was one of the hymns of the morning. Seeing a whole group of people signing the lyrics made me really hear the words of this piece that always seemed a little flowery. "Then sings my soul..." Even when one can't praise God with one's voice, He hears the song of one's soul. In spite of my "lisping, stammering tongue," every failure and weak muteness, I can yet praise him.
O Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder
Consider all the worlds thy hands have made.
I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder,
Thy power throughout the universe displayed.
Then sings my soul, my savior God, to thee;
How great thou art, how great thou art!
Then sings my soul, my savior God, to thee:
How great thou art, how great thou art!
When through the woods and forest glades I wander
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees;
When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur
And hear the brook and feel the gentle breeze:
And when I think that God, his Son not sparing,
Sent him to die, I scarce can take it in;
That on the cross, my burden gladly bearing,
He bled and died to take away my sin:
When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation
And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart!
Then I shall bow in humble adoration,
And there proclaim, "My God, how great thou art!"
Back in college when I sang with a music ministry group, I remember visiting a church with an active deaf ministry. This was one of the hymns of the morning. Seeing a whole group of people signing the lyrics made me really hear the words of this piece that always seemed a little flowery. "Then sings my soul..." Even when one can't praise God with one's voice, He hears the song of one's soul. In spite of my "lisping, stammering tongue," every failure and weak muteness, I can yet praise him.
5.10.2003
We are amused
When life gets stressful, there's nothing like a little Monty Python. Watching some old episodes last night, I saw another favorite sketch:
(Opening shot: Sports announcer outside metal starting stalls used for horse racing.)
Announcer: Well they're under starter's orders for this very valuable Queen Victoria Handicap. And they're off...
(The starting stall doors fly open; out come eight identically dressed Queen Victorias who go bustling off up the field.)
Announcer: And Queen Victoria got a clean jump off, followed by Queen Victoria, Queen Victoria and Queen Victoria. It's Queen Victoria from Queen Victoria and Queen Victoria. It's Queen Victoria making the early running on the inside. And at the back Queen Victoria already a couple of lengths behind the leaders. Queen Victoria has now moved up to challenge Queen Victoria with Queen Victoria losing ground. Queen Victoria tucked in neatly on the stand side with a clear view. Queen Victoria still the back marker as they approach the halfway mark, but making ground now, suddenly past Queen Victoria with Queen Victoria, Queen Victoria and Queen Victoria still well placed as they approach the first fence.
(A low angle shot as the Queen Victorias appear over the fence and thunder towards the camera.)
Announcer: And at the first fence it's Queen Victoria just ahead of Queen Victoria and Queen Victoria falling away in third place. And Queen Victoria in the lead....
When life gets stressful, there's nothing like a little Monty Python. Watching some old episodes last night, I saw another favorite sketch:
(Opening shot: Sports announcer outside metal starting stalls used for horse racing.)
Announcer: Well they're under starter's orders for this very valuable Queen Victoria Handicap. And they're off...
(The starting stall doors fly open; out come eight identically dressed Queen Victorias who go bustling off up the field.)
Announcer: And Queen Victoria got a clean jump off, followed by Queen Victoria, Queen Victoria and Queen Victoria. It's Queen Victoria from Queen Victoria and Queen Victoria. It's Queen Victoria making the early running on the inside. And at the back Queen Victoria already a couple of lengths behind the leaders. Queen Victoria has now moved up to challenge Queen Victoria with Queen Victoria losing ground. Queen Victoria tucked in neatly on the stand side with a clear view. Queen Victoria still the back marker as they approach the halfway mark, but making ground now, suddenly past Queen Victoria with Queen Victoria, Queen Victoria and Queen Victoria still well placed as they approach the first fence.
(A low angle shot as the Queen Victorias appear over the fence and thunder towards the camera.)
Announcer: And at the first fence it's Queen Victoria just ahead of Queen Victoria and Queen Victoria falling away in third place. And Queen Victoria in the lead....
5.07.2003
5.06.2003
Lone Xylophone redux
I'd wanted to repost one of my earliest blogs that explains where I got the name. Now that the archives have been recovered, here it is...
Lone xylophone, I realize, is a kind of odd name for a blog, and merits explanation...
My sophomore through senior years of high school, I played mallet percussion, an experience that put me in an even more freakish subset of band freaks: girl percussionists. I didn't play something delicate and feminine like a flute or clarinet, but a huge instrument that had to be strapped to my body. I carried sticks and hit things.
Being a girl percussionist is not for wussies. I got to wear a 40-pound marching xylophone through blazing heat, rain, and snow on football fields and several-mile parades in hilly towns. (I only fainted once, during a two mile parade in 98 degree heat in a wool uniform. Fortunately, a parent caught my instrument before I was impaled on the harness.)
My band director decided that the percussion harnesses were ugly, so we had to wear them under our uniforms. It's amazing I ever got a date, wandering around football games with lumpy shoulders, bolts bulging at unnatural places on my chest and a steel bar sticking out by my groin. Of course, with the instrument attached I could do some serious damage if I turned around too fast--and did knock the wind out of a trombonist...
I'll save some of my crazy band days stories for future posts. Suffice it to say, my experiences shaped my imagination in unique ways, and I can hear beauty in hitting things, see dignity in the lumpy but strong.
I'd wanted to repost one of my earliest blogs that explains where I got the name. Now that the archives have been recovered, here it is...
Lone xylophone, I realize, is a kind of odd name for a blog, and merits explanation...
My sophomore through senior years of high school, I played mallet percussion, an experience that put me in an even more freakish subset of band freaks: girl percussionists. I didn't play something delicate and feminine like a flute or clarinet, but a huge instrument that had to be strapped to my body. I carried sticks and hit things.
Being a girl percussionist is not for wussies. I got to wear a 40-pound marching xylophone through blazing heat, rain, and snow on football fields and several-mile parades in hilly towns. (I only fainted once, during a two mile parade in 98 degree heat in a wool uniform. Fortunately, a parent caught my instrument before I was impaled on the harness.)
My band director decided that the percussion harnesses were ugly, so we had to wear them under our uniforms. It's amazing I ever got a date, wandering around football games with lumpy shoulders, bolts bulging at unnatural places on my chest and a steel bar sticking out by my groin. Of course, with the instrument attached I could do some serious damage if I turned around too fast--and did knock the wind out of a trombonist...
I'll save some of my crazy band days stories for future posts. Suffice it to say, my experiences shaped my imagination in unique ways, and I can hear beauty in hitting things, see dignity in the lumpy but strong.
4.29.2003
Richie
The latest issue of re:generation (not online yet, sorry!) has some really powerful stuff in it. (Maybe later in the week I'll pull together my comments on Read Schuchardt's article on Disney.)
Becky Baer Porteous' article "From Race to Taste: Wealth and Status in the Postmodern World," felt a bit like a kick in the teeth in the best possible way (if that makes any sense). She asserts that "having the wealth to consume and display certain sorts of 'taste,' even a taste for packaged ethnic diversity, makes anyone acceptable....In a postmodern world, it's what's over the skin that counts--the surface and the image it sustains." Okay, sounds like a typical anti-materialism story condemning the upper crust, right?
Well, Porteous goes on to describe feeling depressed while living in Zimbabwe, and realizing it came from being separated from home, from being accustomed to "being a wealthy person in a wealth contry, constantly stimulated by color and taste and aroma and touch--by things I coveted and wanted to consume." She comes to the realization that much of her former happiness came from being a white American and that life should be about sharing in Christ's sufferings in the world.
Even if my wardrobe isn't terribly stylish and we drive an older, dented up car, equating hapiness with stuff is still a big problem for me. I'm not at all eager to forgo my plush, comfortable bed and full cupboards to suffer for Christ.
The latest issue of re:generation (not online yet, sorry!) has some really powerful stuff in it. (Maybe later in the week I'll pull together my comments on Read Schuchardt's article on Disney.)
Becky Baer Porteous' article "From Race to Taste: Wealth and Status in the Postmodern World," felt a bit like a kick in the teeth in the best possible way (if that makes any sense). She asserts that "having the wealth to consume and display certain sorts of 'taste,' even a taste for packaged ethnic diversity, makes anyone acceptable....In a postmodern world, it's what's over the skin that counts--the surface and the image it sustains." Okay, sounds like a typical anti-materialism story condemning the upper crust, right?
Well, Porteous goes on to describe feeling depressed while living in Zimbabwe, and realizing it came from being separated from home, from being accustomed to "being a wealthy person in a wealth contry, constantly stimulated by color and taste and aroma and touch--by things I coveted and wanted to consume." She comes to the realization that much of her former happiness came from being a white American and that life should be about sharing in Christ's sufferings in the world.
Even if my wardrobe isn't terribly stylish and we drive an older, dented up car, equating hapiness with stuff is still a big problem for me. I'm not at all eager to forgo my plush, comfortable bed and full cupboards to suffer for Christ.
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