Applehouse

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More later, Ophelia, I'll never forget.

Yawn

As the wheel of fate rolls through the eternal cycles of history, it's better to be closer to the hub for at the rim, even though the ride up is exciting, once you reach the top it's all downhill from there and once you reach the bottom, well there you are aren't you?
And those who learn nothing from the past are doomed to repeat it, those who do learn something will have it repeated for them.

So they at least save a little energy.

Sun was out for a bit, went out and accomplished some yard work of a lumberjack persuasion.

Gotta go, got a cat in my face.

G'day miss Ophelia, wherever you are.

It's possible, Seattle!

More then two decades at the helm of Seattle Opera, Speight Jenkins has proven himself to be the unquestionable God Father of Opera in America and one of the greatest arts administrators, and impresarios, of the last hundred years. Having discovered and mentored a majority of the worlds leading interpreters of every operatic genre, Speight continues to present the world with breath taking productions and visionary casts.


From the facebook site "Speight Jenkins, the Godfather of Opera.

Woke up this mornin'

Wasn't actually this morning but it would have been nice if it were.

Mandaroonie

Still needs a little work. there's supposed to be a decorative skirt around the body.

Scarlet ribbons

Found a deal on 2 fer 1 tickets to the Bellevue Phil.
Just a bit too late to make it there in time.
Missed out on a spur of the moment adventure (I had dressed up but to no avail).

Glued the fingerboard onto the mandowhatchacallit instead.

Too late for that adventure, I decided on another.

Yesterday, a member of this household expressed a desire for some rye flour.
Our foraging run then produced nothing but the realization that none was to be had this end of town.

So today I headed to the other end (more like the middle or a bit north).

To wit, Queen Anne Hill, where I regularly visit in no small part but to return to the scene of the Seattle Symphony related incident of automotive intimidation against my person.
Gives me a little thrill whenever I pass the scene.

And more pertinently, to see if the store up there had the aforementioned baking staple.

They did.

But I checked out the PCC nearer to home in case.
They have it too, and a lot more kinds of flour than are dreamed of in my
philosophies.

But...I had other things on my list than they stocked on the top of old Q.A.

Zipped back south the Renton Fred Meyers for the rest of it.

On the way out of the store, I saw about six cop cars, lights flashing, and a half dozen cops standing around.

Looked pretty serious.

Maybe they caught some malefactor under suspicion of having a half ounce (with a street value of thousands) of marijuana.

And feared for their lives.

Score!

Took the score of Sam Jones' tuba concerto with me when I went to school yesterday.
Least I thought I did.
When I got to Caffe Ladro and opened my case, it wasn't there.
Left it home.
So I read through the score for the bass concerto instead.
Which was more pertinent to the day anyway inasmuch as that's what I'm working on in class.
Trying to get scores to look professional for submission to all the orchestras of the world.
Or maybe just some local ones.

Tempting fate again.

Taking the old chutzpa bus back to hubris city and environs again.

This time of year always starts out with the feeling that this year will be the big break I've been waiting for.
Most likely this feeling is what is responsible for the nastiness of the end of the year when I realize that nothing of the sort has taken place.

And so we traddle onward.

Actually went to three coffee houses today.
Q.A. Starbuggers, Ladro, (where I missed my Jones) and a Broadway one that I don't rem- Peet's!

Only drinking shorts these days.
Even so I'm up at six due to not sleeping.
Up at six is no big deal to dedicated government workers who never sleep in their tireless efforts to keep the biznezz of this great country rolling so smoooothley.

At Starblocks, I actually sat outside and had a brief thought about a bike ride onacountabecause it seemed kinda nice out.

But then it rained rained rained.

Bought bread at the Capitol Hill QFC.

Discussed music notation with David.

Discussed writing scores for thick chords in violin sections.

Drove home with windshield wipers flopping in my face.

Found the score I forgot, didn't I, Mister Jones.

I know sumpthin's happ'nin

Good morning miss Ophelia, wherever you iz.

Mandora

I've been working on the latest musical instrument project, the mandora, (mandola, funny-looking guitar, whatever)
Been painting it, so to speak
With Rustoleum spray can lacquer.
You may recall from earlier posts that I laminated the neck from two different colored woods so as to have a striped look to the neck to go along with the body which is made of thin strips of wood glued together at the edges sorta like a boat.
But when I went to stain it a bit, the stain immediately darkened the whole thing one unpleasant color.
So I had to give up the striped idea except that trying to wipe the stain off caused some streaks that wouldn't re-stain of come out or the hell with it.
So anyway, I sprayed it.
Coupla coats it started to look better so I thought why not, there are already many other blemishes, live with it.
Then it was on to the sound board.
Nice lookin' hunk of spruce from my old piano.
Filled and sealed it, looked awright.
Sprayed it, started to look rough, all beaded up and what all.
Gave up for a bit in frustration.
Coupla days contemplation, I decided to sand it down to the wood and try again.
Didn't get to the wood, but it started to look smooth so I put on another coat.
Better.
Sanded down a couple more coats and it started to look ok.
polished it out ant it looks great. (coupla tiny scratches, but for me, only a coupla tiny scratches is perfection)

But, now! the damn back looks horrible.
Sanded back to the wood (almost, I left the surface all mottled with some of the old finish).
Restained with a subtle blend of colors to get a sort of mahogany leopard spotted kind of look.

Better, but still true to my crappy workmanship standards.

Now I'm in the process of spraying and sanding the hull and I can't for the life of me imagine why anybody would read this far into what must be right up with the best in the most boring blogs of the twenty-first century, only ninety percent of which is still left to endure.

New year

Der Adler ist in das haus.
Yesterday was the first schoolday for me, consisting of lunch at a Q.A. Thai restaurant (Pud Thai mit chicken) and trip to the SCCC parking lot where I courageously parked next to the same concrete pillar that leapt out and creased the Prius.
In challenging this demon, I intimidated it and showed who is boss. I'll have no further trouble from that corner of this garden of eden.
Oddly however, when I looked for signs of Prius paint on the post, there was none.
The repair shop said it would be like it never happened, but would they go that far?

So anyway I trotted on down to Caffe ladro for some coffee and a cookie (got the last one)
You don't suppose she was saving it for me, do you?

I don't

On my way back up the hill I noticed a book in the window of Borders or Barns and whatsit.
I notice it because the title was "A handbook of pistols" or the like.
The thing that made me notice it was that it was on a rack labeled "KIDS"

I walked on the B-Hall side of the street tee-hee.
A tip of the snoot to yez Benny.

But the thing that really has me wondering is why isn't a kangaroo straight a legitimate poker hand?

It keeps me up at night.

Kurt Masur is a terrific conductor and a great human being.
He told the orchestra that that "played like angels"

And I'm sure that they did.

Today I edited scores for the Bass concerto.

Enharmonic spelling is starting to make sense to me.

I hope that's not dangerous.

Money, money

First biznezz day of the year we had to sprint out of the house and head downtown to the King County Admin and give them oodles of moolah onacounta I forgot to pay the R.E. tax for second half of last year.

That was exciting, after that, the trip to the fabric store for some mysterious shenanigans involving drapery in the living room seemed positively mild in comparison.

I have had a month long break from writing music and I gottagetbacktoit.

You know, they say this is a new year, but it seems to be the same month as always.
Wasn't it January this time too?

I think it was.

I also took a month long or longer vacation from riding the bike.
I am getting fat.
And lazy.
And slothful.
And grumpy.
And sneezy.
And many other things.

Like a 3 CD set of historical recordings that were stuck in a vault by the French back in 1907.

Put all that together and whaddiyagot?

I seem to remember it ends with boo.

Boo.