the cardinal compass

Jean-Yves Thibaudet made me cry

2011-07-25T22:39:00.003-04:00

Yesterday beautiful music made me cry. I was so touched and moved by Jean-Yves Thibaudet's piano performance of the second movement of Ravel's piano concerto in G (Adagio assai), that my heart and soul were so full of emotion, that slowly the tears were just meandering over my sunny face.

We had spent the day at Tanglewood for the Boston Symphony Orchestra's All Ravel program under the direction of Emmanual Krivine. As always, our day started with a bit of stress to get ready - I have high expectations what a proper picnic looks like and therefore put a lot of effort into it - and a grumpy child had not realized it was an all day affair and had to say no to a spontaneous pool party invitation. Her bad mood lingered on for a few hours, but the special atmosphere on the lawn at Tanglewood slowly soothed her mind enough to be bearable. Two Shrewsbury friends hooked up with us on the lawn, which was wonderful and changed the dynamic of our group and made for nice conversation.

Tanglewood is rather special, the huge music hall called shed opens to the fantastic old park with beautiful trees and a wonderful lawn. Hundreds of groups of people scatter over the lawns with their chairs, blankets and gourmet picnics. We got a very nice place close to the Koussevitzky Music Shed and had a much better sound experience than prior visit (sunburn included). So imagine all these people hanging about on a lovely Sunday afternoon, surrounded by the gorgeous Berkshire mountains, having fun and conversation. A few times the old bell rings and all of a sudden the concert starts and amazingly, from one second to another, it is dead silent. You could hear the grass grow.

The program started with the Mother Goose Suite and I had forgotten how much I love The Fairy Garden and it transported me far away into my dream world. The suite was followed by the concerto and well deserved standing ovations and repeated appearances of Krivine and Thibaudet. The amazing concerto for the left hand (very interesting story!), which I could not even do with both of my hands and the Bolero finalized the concert.

The piano is a magnificent instrument, but it is not very often that a pianist just completely blows me away and touches something so deep inside me, I have no words to describe it. Maybe too often it is perfection and mechanics and not magic? I had known Tchaikovsky's piano concerto No. 1 for many years as a teenager and never cared for it that much. Then I heard it played by Ivo Pogorelić and I swear, it was an utterly different piece and I had to listen to it three times in a row and again and again for many days. It was a revelation and so was Thibaudet yesterday.

I think it is very interesting how the same piece of music / same score can be so different in outcome depending on the orchestra and director. I remember when CDs were still newer and I would listen to every recording of a piece to see which one spoke to me. Karajan for example never spoke to me, strange, I cannot even tell you exatly why. For years I could not find a recording of Schubert's 8th Symphony that I liked. I once heard a recording of Dvoraks New World Symphony that hit me so deep, I pulled to the side of the road and sat there, tears streaming down through the whole symphony and it was like nothing else existed at that moment.

When everything is right and the interpretation speaks to you in all your depth, something amazing happens inside you, connecting heart and soul and rationale and whatever else lingers inside us. I am extremely grateful that Thibaudet mad me cry tears of beauty, to remind me again why I love Ravel so very much and also fling back into my life the one thing that always helps me in more difficult times: the magic of music.

Nothing exists without music, for the universe itself is said to have been framed by a kind of harmony of sounds, and heaven itself revolves under the tones of that harmony.
Isodore of Seville (c.568-636 AD) archbishop and saint

A new approach to un-clutter

2011-07-23T17:29:00.001-04:00

I hold on to too many things.

For one I always have ideas what I could use things for and I have so many things in the first place, because I have so many ideas. I have spent money on them and maybe I find time to use them one day for my many great ideas, in theory. Meanwhile, I am running out of space, have less and less time to actually turn my ideas into something tangible and even if I do, I am not as good as I used to be, since I have a general loss of patience and peace. My sewing, carpentry and art skills were definitely at a better place before my brain got fragmented due to living a life in quarter hour chunks. And then there are the boxes and boxes of material and product of my sort of defunct company, since I want to devote myself to writing, which is the purpose of my existence actually. But I have a hard time really saying goodbye forever to my company.

Then there are mementos of my former life - too many, even though I reduced them greatly before filling a container and shipping it from Bavaria to Los Angeles in '96. I had figured that great memories will stay in my head and it was a moving ritual to burn old love letters in the fireplace one by one - that was before I had mommy-brain-dementia. And then there is my first laptop, a whole lot antique kitchen things from ancestors long ago .... I get a headache just looking into that corner and my gaze moves to the boxes of decorations - Halloween and Easter quite manageable, but Christmas? O Gosh. I could go on and on with this list, but I assume it is already rather boring.

The thing is, it all ties me down, makes me crazy, leaves no room in a tangible and spiritual sense - I need to free myself. But how? I have been trying for so long and it just does not get better - or should I say less? It is not that I am a hoarder, we donate a lot, happily give things to friends and family, Freecycle and Craigslist things away. Still, the pace is not right. So I had an idea.

Having been so utterly unhappy with my existence as a whole - happy in some fragments though - I have been creating this parallel dream world that I escape to. Partially it came out of real dreams at night, which makes the people, the place, the voices, the scents and sounds very real in my head. This all is happening in England, an old, charming country home. So I asked myself, if this would be true and not a dream, what would I take with me? What would be important? Voila, I have my angle. I imagine I am preparing for a move in a couple of month and I picture myself with I-will-not-name-who-I-dream-about and our oh so harmonious and wonderful life and guess what, it makes it SO much easier to let go.

I wonder if we can take little pieces of our day dreams and turn them into something real, some small details and bigger ideas as well. Dreaming and hoping are incredible forces if they are not tethered onto expectations I think. I have to do a lot of sorting, 14 bins and boxes of paperwork from the kids are my start (some huge Rubbermaid storage containers), surely a few drawings and little stories they wrote and some cards they made are enough to come with me. Even if I really not going anywhere.

claymation camp

2011-07-22T17:26:00.001-04:00

The girls went to a claymation camp at the Worcester Art Museum and this is their first movie: I think it is very cute and I hope they do more!

Vicious cycle of pain, depression and desperation

2011-07-21T17:17:00.000-04:00

This is a serious rant about the state I am in and I am not sure if this is something I should even post here in this public place of my blogosphere.... but then again, life is not always sunshine and cupcakes and smiles and all good. I mostly pretend to be the happy and balanced person, at least most people think that of me and I am very good at hiding what is really going on. One of the lessons of being bullied as a kid, when I learned not to show any kind of emotion. So here, I will say it and if it comes to haunt me, so be it.

Lately I am derailed off my tracks at any instant. From teeny tiny things like putting a lot of quarters in the parking meter at the library only to find it closed (budget cuts) or two bathing suits disintegrating within 3 days (quality cuts + chlorine) to the big things like not getting a handle on my health. My severe Endometriosis ist being treated with shots of hormones helping me to not spend a majority of my time with ridiculously bad pelvic cramps. The down side of the medication though, beside the weight gain and loss of lust (sorry could not resist, sounds so funny 'loss of lust') it makes me swing between extreme anger and severe depression with constant crying fits. Obviously that is not a solution. At times I wish I would drop dead. So there, I said it.

I read somewhere that one of the side effects is psychosis and I wonder if that is why I feel that I am completely alone and have no friends whatsoever, which rationally I know not to be true, well, maybe - I cannot tell, because my brain feels to muddled. I know that I know a lot of really nice people here, but what I definitely miss is a best friend though. I had one from teenage years to motherhood at which point our tracks went in completely different directions and were absolutely incompatible. But I miss having a best friend who you take small vacations with, full of adventure, visit exhibitions and go to concerts, help each other with whatever and mostly talk about anything and at any time and well, you probably know, if you ever had that one person closest, a person who really knows you and understands you. I am lonely. I felt lonely before the medication, now I feel forsaken. So there, I said it.

The depth of the problem is compounded by my lower back problems. My three disks were doing alright until I was so utterly stupid to lift two 80 pound cement bags, because I really wanted a project done. Of course I have been out of commission since that stupid move and the project is further away from completion than before. My chiropractor is trying everything he can to get everything back in order, I swim and swim and swim, take enough Ibuprofen to blow a big hole into my stomach lining, ice it over and over and relax it with valium. I can hardly make it through the day without painkillers. So there, I said it.

All my projects are on hold and my sole existence is to serve my seemingly grumpy and ungrateful, but sometimes very funny and definitely loved children. It seems that I do nothing much but drive them to and from places, get or return friends, shop and cook for them and their friends. The explosive and attention challenged one is riddled with teenage-hormonal rollercoaster like mood swings and in turn makes me explode, since my reserves are all drained by the little genius with the necessity to have everything in her life micromanaged by me, essentially making me have to live her life on top of mine. My children drive me insane. So there, I said it.

And while I write this, I get another of these crazy crying fits and I think to myself, this is not me actually. But something is seriously broken. I am broken - there, I said that, too. And now? Well, life goes on, I'll wipe the tears away and take my children and three of their friends to the lake, pretending that the abyss in my soul is not there and succeed half the time through distraction and company. So there.

P52/13: Find

2011-04-05T06:20:00.001-04:00

Driftwood with a story from one of the most beautiful places in the world: Montagna de Oro in California. This piece is about 5 feet tall, it was even longer when I found it, but I had to make it shorter to fit in the car to go home. The spousal unit refuses to help with driftwood in any capacity as a matter of principle, so I had to schlep this by myself up to the car, it was still soaked and therefore very heavy. Back home in Pasadena, a bunch of carpenter bees thought it lovely as well and moved in. I tried smoking them out with incense, which failed to evict them, but might have turned them Catholic. When we moved to Pennsylvania, our fantastic movers had the brilliant idea to wrap the whole thing in a multitude of plastic layers and told me to just leave it in the garage for the duration of the Pennsylvania winter. It worked and I was finally able to have it inside. And then we moved it to Massachusetts.

This find is so big and unusual, everybody visiting us has to comment on it, touch the curves and smooth wood and tries to see something in the shapes, like cloud watching on a summer day.

P52/12: Patchwork

2011-04-03T12:41:00.001-04:00

Though traditionally made of fabric, this patchwork is paper on canvas. It is a small section of a three canvas collage that I made for a paper art contest 'Blue'. The three are dusk & dawn, water & air, night & day. Can you guess which one this section is part of?

P52/11: Glass

2011-04-02T12:51:00.000-04:00

Still trying to catch up with Project 52 and therefore I picked a picture from the archives, showing one of the first fused glass pendants I made in my kiln. I love glass and prefer a unique shaped piece of sea glass or kiln fired glass over some fancy, frilly and expensive jewelery.

P52/10 - Wanderlust/Fernweh

2011-03-30T10:10:00.001-04:00

There is no fitting word in the English language for Fernweh, which is the yearning for places far away. Even though wanderlust comes close, I do consider it more of an antsy wanting to be on the move generally rather than wanting to go to a place far away. Home sickness can usually be considered the opposite of wanderlust, except in my case where the yearning for far away places and the yearning for home is one and the same.

Alphabet Soup - letter B

2011-03-29T16:39:00.001-04:00

B is for Buddha. In dire need of some peace on his perilous journey, Peter Pan consulted with the Buddha.

Alphabet Soup - letter F

2011-03-28T16:45:00.006-04:00

F is for Fire. Usually battling with sword, wit and the ability to fly rather fast, Peter Pan had to come to terms with his mortality when massive flames were working their way towards him. I am happy to report that he escaped yet again, unscathed I might add - or should I say unsinged?

P52/9: Contrast

2011-03-06T16:44:00.003-05:00

This week's, well, to be precise actually last week's photo challenge topic is contrast and really, ANY picture could fall under that. So does a really wide open topic make it easier or harder? I guess it just depends on our personality. Anyway, no long ramblings needed this week, but comments are still very welcome :)

P52/8: Technology - Friend or Foe?

2011-02-21T18:14:00.007-05:00

This week’s challenge is thought provoking. Coming from Germany it is not actually about technology, but the term ‘Technik’, which shockingly does not even have an English translation. The root of the word comes from ancient Greek τέχνη (téchnē) meaning skill, art and labor/trade. Consequently I need to define the challenge for me as this is a huge area and almost anything could be part of it, like cutting parsley with a sharp knife. If I consider the question in its most basic idea, the answer would have to be that technology is our friend, because that is what makes us human: the making and use of tools? Looking at weaponry and other tools of evil points the other way though. Tough question it is!

* click for big!

Therefore, I have decided to interpret technology in regards to this challenge as man made tools with a concrete purpose and use and also being very complex in their built. So narrowing it down like this I conclude in line with my typical juxtapositional mindset, that the answer is both. I associate technology with pollution, noise and other annoyances, dehumanizing our lives with mechanical and electronic means, pushing us further away from the basics of life. Then again, I am an early adopter and embrace technology left and right as walking though the house shows clearly.

We have a house full of tools that help with cooking, cleaning, wood work and regulate temperature and humidity. They freeze, boil, melt, cut, move, print and even curl hair. My studio has a as many gadgets as the kitchen or the work shop. Looking further we get to computers, ipods and digital cameras (making me wish we had more Apple stock and at least some Canon). We use technology to be entertained, to stay in virtual touch or arrange for real socializing, to be creative and to be not creative, to make time and to kill time, to help us make a mess in the kitchen and to help us clean it up again. It helps us move faster or slower and even tells us where to go, it makes our world brighter and louder. It makes life easier and it makes life harder. (I’d like to meet the person that has not yelled at a piece of technology out of frustration.)

We all take the harder and the frustration for the reward, video chatting with friends on the other side of the world, picture sharing and critique through blogging and watching BBC’s Robin Hood streaming through the marvel called Wii. And when we are without power - something rather routine in this part of the world - we just as happily sit by the fire, read books, play boardgames, write with ink and take our instruments and make music. So yes, technology is a friend, but we are okay with an occasional leave of absence.

P52/7: All Red

2011-02-17T07:58:00.010-05:00

If there would be a color to describe the relationship of my girls with each other, it would be red. Red because they love each other and red because they hate each other - all red! Click to see it in all its glory.

Isn't it often that what looks easy and straightforward needs us to have second look and deeper thought? This weeks photo challenge had the title 'All Red' and I did not want to run out and just take a picture of something red without a thought behind it, because I love when I look at other people's contributions and find myself completely surprised by the way they find their own individual way of interpreting the topic.

Alphabet Soup - letter S

2011-02-14T07:27:00.005-05:00

S is for steering wheel. Instead of basking in the sunshine on this calm Sunday afternoon, Peter was in peril yet again, having been hoisted onto the steering wheel, expected to do the driving. 495 North was busy as ever and it took all his concentration for happy thoughts and depleted the remaining stash of faery dust at his disposal.

P52/6: Tea Party

2011-02-12T14:53:00.015-05:00

click the pictures to see them big :)

Our feud with the faeries reached its high when they hijacked our tea party this week. It all started with the collapse of their faery houses under the weight of snow and ice and their decision to move into our house. We are very understanding people, especially when it comes to magic folks, but living with them was next to impossible. Tripping over tiny horses again and again, getting hurt by out of control unicorns and our cats would chase the faeries with the pegasus hard on their heels. Our house turned into a mad house. Instead of helping to solve the mystery of disappearing socks, they were dancing on the piano keys to make very unsettling twelve tone music and forcefully evicted all Playmobil people from their houses in a wicked ploy to move in themselves. Now we had those folks running about as well.

We called a summit of their leaders with the CEO of our household, but diplomacy failed and war was declared when I called them faeries and not elves. Apparently when you bestow the Franco-Anglican term onto Germanic magic folks, you are a fool and thus the feud began. In their clever and cunning ways, they started playing tricks on us, switching salt and sugar, leaning ‘purely by accident’ onto the Wii power button when we were about to get a first place, putting cayenne pepper into our wine glasses when we were not looking, lighting matches directly under the smoke alarms in the middle of the night, dousing the cats in expensive perfume, hiding car keys in the pastry flour and eating all our chocolate.

It proofed impossible to catch them all for a return to nature and I was tired of surprises like finding the floor covered in glue in the morning or children missing the school bus, because the wee ones had knotted up all shoelaces incredibly tight. To provide a little rest from this mess, we decided to have a little tea party. We had barely sat down when the wee folk descended onto our party like ants onto sugar cubes. In our favor and some kind of cosmic justice though, their last mischievous deed turned around unto them.

First, Feya the oldest burnt her feet landing on a teapot and Surah’s parrot drowned in a pot of milk. Yasira got stuck in the lemon bars and feared for the life, since Eyela & Ophira were devouring one after the other and showed no signs of slowing down. Tinuveel unknowingly had a piece of salmon sandwich and went into anaphylactic shock due to allergies. Apricum was mortified when his love Feya the third dove head first into the sugar cubes, he tried to hide in the creamer because he did not like to watch her flying on a sugar rush. Oleana, the smallest and youngest, ate a whole rum infused cherry and passed out, just like Falaroy, who slurped tea with rum and was drunk as a skunk. Arelan overdid it with the cucumber sandwiches, which gave him never ending hiccups while Sera II was stuck to the orange marmalade she was trying to get for her twin Sera I and the scones. Nimsay and Lindariel ate too many berries, resulting a belly aches.

It was not a catastrophy for all involved, Bilara and Iloris who had nurtured a thorough dislike of the other for a long time, noticed that they shared the same dream of bathing in whipped cream and small tendrils of friendship grew. Only Nuray and Turag, who had already maximized their daily weight watchers points, refrained from joining the feast, as well as Marween, who was content to listen to the mayhem from her perch and Feya the youngest, who took a foot bath in tepid Earl Grey.

Were we upset to have out tea party hijacked like this? At first yes, but when we woke up the next morning to find our house devoid of tricks and rather quiet, we realized that the faery-elves had left. They must have felt that it was impossible to be mischievous with us after being so thoroughly embarrassed by their own bad behavior. Come spring, we shall put some lemon bars in the vicinity of their dwellings, as a sign of peace.

P52/5: In & Out

2011-02-06T12:04:00.000-05:00

I am going in & out of the house all day long and therefore I am in & out of my clogs constantly. In the past many decades clogs have been in & out repeatedly, but I never cared and have worn them happily all my life.

This was a tough topic for me and after a week of juggling different ideas, I went back to my very first one, clogs. If this topic would have been English based, it would have been easy, however in German it refers to fashion - picture Heidi Klum on Project Runway saying it and you get the picture. I am not a person who cares much about what is in and out, I think a lot of creative beings have more of a focus on their individuality and march to their own drum, if anything they might be trend setters and not followers.

Alphabet Soup - letter J

2011-02-01T16:59:00.003-05:00

Jurassic Park - this is not how Peter had imagined it when he booked his vacation. How could he have known that it was a real, real like Neverland? Maybe he should have consulted a more reputable travel agency, because this was worse than dealing with Capt'n Hook. Hopefully Tinkerbell was coming shortly to help him out of this.

P52/4: "when I was little"

2011-01-26T13:45:00.004-05:00

When I was little I would lay on the carpet for hours on end, listening to stories. I would listen to the same ones over and over again, knowing every voice by heart, mouthing the dialogue in unison with the speakers and anticipating every crackle and hiss from the worn old records.

staying warm

2011-01-26T06:45:00.004-05:00

This has been a record year for snow and there is no end in sight. Couple that with very cold temperatures and it feels like exceptional circumstances and not like ordinary workdays. Even though I should work on my two major to do items - which would be working on my stories and organizing the house - I seem to be more inclined to work on staying warm and comfortable. So this is how I spent my day on arctic Monday: make a fire - put on thick, woolen socks - read under a blanket - make a pot of rooibush - bake a bread - eat said bread with a freshly made spelt & onion soup - drink delicious, piping hot and überheatlhy elderberry juice - take a bath.

Stjepan Hauser and Luka Sulic - Smooth Criminal

2011-01-24T20:45:00.003-05:00

Absolutely incredible, I keep going back to watch it again and again. It's a nice change after listening to my cello beginner every afternoon, though I am sure there was a time when these guys sounded the same. I would love to see these guys live.

P52/3: favorite color

2011-01-23T20:50:00.006-05:00

Determining one favorite of anything is a very difficult thing for me, in no way can I narrow it ever down to one. When it comes to colors, it really depends on the circumstances and situations, though two colors stand out: Aqua and orange. If I would poll all my friends, I am sure most of them would answer orange and being a democrat at heart, that's what I went with. The sun obviously agreed with my choice and delivered a stunning sunset over Newburyport Mass, when I took a stroll on the winter beach of Plum Island yesterday.

P52/2: Winterwonderland

2011-01-22T20:49:00.004-05:00

Whereas most people in the old world were struggling with finding snow for this topic (and due to that a lot got very creative and inventive), the new world has more snow than we can ever use. The streets have turned into snow canyons and the backyard is slowly going up in altitude. I like winter and its wonderland landscapes, very magical.

P52/1: snapshot

2011-01-21T20:47:00.005-05:00

A photo challenge and a snapshot usually don't live in the same category, so the more interesting to start this challenge with exactly that. Most of my pictures are made with a purpose or idea, but snapshots somehow seem to come from a different angle. They are a spur of the moment raw slice of life. I think that is actually their strength, they capture a fleeting moment without a composition and perfect light, they convey emotions and memories. While visiting a friend's house, the youngest was 'flying' from one sofa to the other with such speed and energy, the blur does it justice.

Projekt 52

2011-01-20T20:37:00.002-05:00

Projekt 52 is another German photo challenge, was born out of the 365 challenge of taking a picture a day and is asking for a photograph a week. The impetus is to constantly work creatively. Every week a new topic or theme is chosen and there are two groups of people participating. One group uses the same figure, doll or manikin in every picture - much like the alphabet soup challenge - and the other group works freely. I decided on the latter, since I already work with lovely Peter Pan on the other challenge. This came late to me, I am already behind and the revelation of the next topic is looming, but it sounds like fun and I am amazed by the strong networking of German bloggers, they are really active and social.

Alphabet Soup - letter N

2011-01-19T11:17:00.005-05:00

N for Noodles - Silly Peter, doesn't he know to be careful what to wish for? He said he was so hungry, that he could eat a whole pool of noodles, but was not aware of the consequences when his wish was spontaneously granted by higher powers.

Alphabet Soup photo challenge: N wie

Alphabet soup - letter D

2011-01-18T13:30:00.004-05:00

D for Dominoes - Peter Pan was bravely facing the onslaught of the falling dominoes. Having the security of his magic fairy dust, falling was generally not something to be feared.

Alphabet soup - Photography challenge 'Buchstabensuppe'

2011-01-18T11:23:00.005-05:00

'Buchstabensuppe' is German for alphabet soup and in this case refers to a photography challenge somebody in Germany came up with. The rules are as follows: she draws a letter every 2 weeks - because coincidentally there are exactly enough letters in the alphabet for every fortnight, but I don't want to go into the significance of the number 26 here. Participants pick a figure that will be in every picture taken and that is the hard thing, I have tough time deciding between a Playmobil witch, a Schleich fairy or Disney's Robin Hood. Anyway, I am lagging behind already, since the challenge already went onto the second letter, but since we are having yet another snow day here in beautiful Massachusetts, it should be done by the end of the day.

Serendipitously it was my friend Jeannette, who introduced me to this project and she is the one complaining about the lack of posts on this blog. Though I have to brag about 150 straight daily posts on the Beauty of Being!

Here is the link to the project 'Buchstabensuppe'.

inspired by thxthxthx.com

2010-09-02T14:16:00.004-04:00

From Leah Dieterich's blog: "There’s always something to be thankful for. From the important things like Songs You’re Embarrassed to Like, and Heavy Eyelids that Tell You When You Need to Sleep, to friends and family, love and loneliness, light and darkness, Leah Dieterich sets out to acknowledge them all. thxthxthx is her daily exercise in gratitude."

I have enjoyed Leah's daily Thank you notes and it has influenced me to look (again) at the little random things in life that I am grateful for. I say again, because it is nothing new to me, but easy to forget in the commotion of everyday life. Back in 1994, I created an aromatherapeutic bath oil for friends and called it Die Schönheit des Daseins, which translates to The Beauty of Being. And one morning at breakfast with friends - it occurred to us, how meaningful those little words are, it is almost like a philosophy, isn't it?

Life can be difficult and exhausting and frustrating, but if we stop for a moment to think, to look and to listen, life is also amazing and wonderful and funny. So come and share with me my gratitude for the beauty of being on my sort-of-gratitude blog called: The Beauty of Being. Well, yes of course, what did you think I would call it?

One thing...

2010-08-20T23:52:00.006-04:00

... leads to another. So Spargeltarzan (meaning asparagus like tarzan = my spouse), Noergeltante (= one who whines) and Maulgesicht (= pouty face) have left for real wilderness hiking in the Berkshires and I thought I could be very, very busy and get a lot of projects done around the house. Went to the orange big box home improvement store that I loathe, but that is around the corner and varnished the bathroom vanity table, which I built from Mahogany 5 years ago. Made me notice the lights and that I have not yet finished the lights in HALF A DECADE - omg - maybe tomorrow - ... so off to the next project: shorten the barstools in the kitchen. Boy, that looks complicated, leave if for tomorrow. So I decide to do just one simple thing before sitting down by myself with a glass of wine and a chick flick.

After living for 42 years without a microwave, I can do pretty much without it. Therefore this huge appliance is annoying my sense of space in the kitchen and has to leave said space. Since a fore mentioned family members might want to use it every now and then, I thought we could put it in the laundry room, which is about the same distance to the stove in the kitchen. Off I go, get some supports for shelves - take down the mirror and what do I see? The people who started this pile of crooked wood that we call house, cut out the wall paper behind the mirror. Why? Well I have no idea why! But it kind of makes it clear that this 1971 wall paper needs to go and actually, the sink too. But if I do that, then the floor needs changing and........ I just wanted to move the microwave out of the kitchen, not do a full laundry room remodel.

So I just left the microwave where it is, closed the door to the laundry room and settled down for a nice chick flick, until the DVD player decided to be picky again and chose a different movie. I watched Premonition and thought it was quite good, surprisingly anyway and such a non Hollywood ending, maybe because the director is European? And just as a side note, if one is not hungry for dinner and then has a glass of Riesling - boy, that one glass felt like inhaling a full bottle - Good Night!

hilarious...

2010-08-19T20:50:00.002-04:00

... how much I am writing, isn't it? I found out that I barely breathe at night, leaving me sleep and oxygen deprived and VERY tired at all times. Now I know that it is not a tumor though, that is turning my brain to mush. I have ever oh so slowly turned into a zombie and to me it is absolutely clear, that zombies probably do not make for good writers. On the other hand, it can be fun to write about zombies... but while my brain is still in it's fried stage, I shall pour another glass of Riesling and watch some Nova or Frontline or similar smart television and wait with the tales of moose encounters, sleep studies and achievement of cosmic balance.

twisted world of writing

2010-06-29T22:19:00.002-04:00

Basically one of the reasons I started to blog was that I wanted to get in the habit of writing daily. Another reason was to get the 50.000 bad words out that everybody carries inside them according to my husband. The very strange thing is, since I have become really serious about writing and write regularly (and take classes), my blog has completely dried up. Twisted somehow, isn't it? I have been reading some blogs though, were people just write short little things, snippets of life, more than a facebook update, but not a full article type piece of writing that seems to be typical for me. I like that, I should try that, just throw things out there.

So there!

politics and society/ heath and education

2010-03-31T22:24:00.004-04:00

I am not American. Coming from another country with different priorities of society and dissimilar political system, there are two topics that always gave me a feeling of unease. These two are Health and Education. I think a country that considers itself to be so great and offer everybody opportunities needs to make sure that all people can be healthy and be educated. I am happy that the health care bill passed, even though I am sure that it is just a first step and a compromise, but progress needs to start with little steps. In the past years, I have heard of so many people that were in terrible situations because they could not afford doctors and health care. What really got me though, were the millions of children without coverage, to me that is unthinkable. What kind of society leaves their children in such a situation?

Children are our future, they are going to be the ones at the rudder, steering forward when we are old, they deserve a good chance. That brings me to the second topic, education. In my view, it is fundamentally wrong that level of education rises and falls with the financial state of parents. Cheaper house, cheaper town and ergo, school district not as good. It is not equal opportunity, if rich children can either move to a great public school district or just go to a great private school and others are left behind. When I grew up, I thought the harder you worked and the more you learned and when you did everything right, you will be on top financially. I do not think that anymore, the amount of money people make, is not always related to amount of work, too many factors contribute to being well off and for sure is it not related to people being better persons than others. I see money as a great divider, people with money can send their kids to great schools and they can move into the same stratosphere. Of course there are always children that find their way anyway and their are others with the best starting position and they fail, but in general, money is a deciding factor. I despise that, because I think it should be based on merit and achievement. Wouldn't that ultimately be better for all of society?

I do worry about my children and their academic future, they will have to find a way to get scholarships or community college is calling. Maybe we just move to Germany and they can study anything they want - if they are good enough - for a nominal little fee. I am very happy that a new bill was signed yesterday, making student loans much easier to acquire and to pay off. Another step in the right direction. Sometimes, politics can move things forward or better them - at least until the tide changes in this two party system (another peculiar thing).

Then of course, I hear about nuclear power and offshore drilling and all my joy had been canceled out again. I think it is healthier for my mind to turn off NPR and listen to 400 years old music instead, but I find myself unable to. I feel a strange sense of duty to be an informed - well, I would love to write citizen, but I am not one of those - person. Good night and good luck!

Mandalas and Zentangles

2010-03-29T22:22:00.002-04:00

I saw a very interesting time lapse video of a Buddhist monk and mandala master creating a Tibetan Sand Mandala in the Sackler pavilion (Smithsonian in D.C.). Mandalas are simultaneous art and meditation, sand mandalas in particular take a long time of concentrated and patient effort due to their intricate nature. A mandala like this represents a palace of Buddhist deities that exists in the mind of the monk. The one in the video took 8 days to make. After a mandala is completed, it gets swept away to remind us of the impermanence of existence. What a strong and powerful symbol. It reminds me a little bit of a big puzzle that takes so long to finish, just to take it apart and put it back in the box. I have always loved puzzles and their meditative nature. Even though finishing is the goal, it is not what is important about doing a puzzle. The journey is the real goal. Anyway, they don't let me embed this video of mandala master Venerable Ngawang Chojor, so here is the link.

When I checked on youtube, I found this interesting video though:

This reminds me that I have been meaning to do some zentangles. Zentangles is like drawing with patterns instead of colors, it is very meditative and free, a bit like doodling, and you never know what you will get. I used to do a lot of black ink drawings that consisted of nothing but tiniest little dots made with technical pens and I loved sitting at the desk and dotting away. It takes a lot of patience, but it is such a moment of creation, molding and shaping these dimensions on a two dimensional piece of paper.

Borromeo quartet at WGBH - Beethoven's Grosse Fuge

2010-03-26T22:57:00.005-04:00

Admittedly I check my email too often, but it can be rewarding at times. I received an email from WGBH, inviting me to a Classical Guest Street session with the Borromeo String Quartet in their studios. I clicked on their link right away and got two of the last 20 tickets. Even more lucky that Fiddler from Rockhound Place was able to go with me. They had a reception and we got to walk around the new studios a bit, I had not seen them yet.

Violinist Nicholas Kitchen introduced the audience to Beethoven’s Grosse Fuge in a multimedia program, which was very interesting and entertaining. I just LOVE to take music apart for a deeper analysis and then listen to it all put together again - so very enlightening. The quartet ended with a performance of the entire opus 133.

Written in 1825/26 when Beethoven was completely deaf, it was originally composed as the last movement of string quartet Op. 130, but later published separate as Op.133. Almost 200 years old and is still very contemporary even today. The four voices, their themes and rhythms intertwine and cross in such a complexity and show the pure genius of Beethoven. It combines dissonance and fortissimo with quiet serenity and it surprises with dramatic interplay of silence and sudden bursts of musical expression. Cathy Fuller expressed it well: “Beethoven takes four voices, fully engaged and throbbing at high speeds, and drives them to the edge of a cliff before stopping them on a dime to listen to the vastness of silence.” [link]

The Borromeo Quartet has its home base in Boston and is the Quartet-in-Residence at the New England Conservatory. It was formed in 1989 and the group plays more than 100 concerts a year. These brilliant musicians are very accomplished and they create a passionate synergy that transcends their performance and connects to the music and its meaning on a deeper level and is in all its serious glory plain fun. I have rarely seen such a range of emotional expressions as tonight. They perform every now and then at the Gardner and I hope I can enjoy them there sometime soon. As an interesting side note, they don't use traditional scores, but cool macbooks instead and advance through the music with a pedal.

Here is an interview with the Borromeo Quartet at WNYC:

And here is the Quartet performing the final movement of Beethoven's Opus 18 Number 3 at WNYC:

Here is an interesting article by Alex Ross, the music critic of the New Yorker:
Beethoven's Grosse Fuge, and an article in the Boston Globe: Borromeos zero in on late Beethoven

Eric Whitacre's Virtual Choir - 'Lux Aurumque'

2010-03-24T23:15:00.004-04:00

Last summer I asked my choral director if we are ever going to sing Arvo Pärt and she said, well we are singing Whitacre next year. With my impending Europe trip, I did not jump at the computer and research this unknown to me composer. I wish I had though. When I finally had to part with the Duruflé requiem and welcome the music of Eric Whitacre into my life, I was amazed by such beautiful music that seems to float and move. He also seems to be a genuinely nice person and is quite in touch with musicians and singers, now that surprises me, because my experience with musicians is different (with the exception of the wonderful and humble John Cage).

So anyway, I don't want to delve deeper here but share this fantastic idea of Eric Whitacre's Virtual Choir. Composer Eric Whitacre and producer Scott Haines called people to record their voice part of Lux Aurumque directed by Whitacre. Six scholarships were awarded. It was very exciting, because they were announced on different days and the chosen singers were just brilliant. So all in all, Haines mixed the 185 voices on 243 tracks with people from 12 countries and produced this wonderful music video. Haines did a superb job, because the sound for sure transcends little computer microphones. They must be wizards.

Beyond the wonderful music and the novel idea, this is a perfect example of the potential good of the internet. The power of music as the universally understood language married with the possibilities of modern technology bring together people from different backgrounds and beliefs, cultures and races and unites all in a moving piece of music. This is the second video of this kind, last year they also did Sleep with Virtual Choir. I hope this is not the last Virtual Choir project, I would love to attempt a part myself. For now though I am happy to sing five of Whitacre's pieces this spring with Sounds of Stow.

Spring is here, ignore the calendar

2010-03-19T21:29:00.006-04:00

Sitting quietly, doing nothing, spring comes, and the grass grows by itself.
~ Zen proverb

How can one not feel better with the sun of spring permeating everything. The warmth and the light coaxing out new life all around and radiating deep into my soul, sprouting hope.

And this is where some photos should be posted, but Blogger does not let me do so at the moment, so I'll try later ... Blogger has been acting very peculiar as of late.

day 16 of brain mush

2010-03-18T21:38:00.002-04:00

So somehow I caught something a few weeks ago and I got sick with the flu or at least something that has all those symptoms. Unlike John though, who bounced back quickly, mine had to turn into a double ear infection, sinusitis and bronchitis. So here I am, 16 days later and still feeling like my brain was sucked away by aliens and substituted with mush of mystery meat, peas and carrots. Why did I pick something this awful? Because I was fed this mush daily when I was in the hospital for four month in 1972. And this was the mildest on the list of offenses this hospital stood for. Yuck.

So I would like to write something meaningful, but with a head that feels like it is teetering on the verge of explosion, meaningful and thought-out are not easily achieved. It does not help that I thought it would be very beneficial for me to run around in the sun on a tennis court, 'get your lymph system going' as John called it. That thought was apparently not a good one either.... cough, cough and off to bed now with a good book. Gave up on Sense & Sensibility & Seamonsters and will be reading the Rockhound Place recommended Shiver instead.

Since I am still sick: another Wordless Wednesday

2010-03-17T12:40:00.002-04:00

Wordless Wednesday - Squirrel in the old appletree

2010-03-03T12:21:00.002-05:00

Pride & Prejudice & Zombies

2010-03-02T11:01:00.008-05:00

Now really, this is an absolute awesome book title. I love the absurd and this sure sounded very much so. When I received it from the library, I was really put off by the title and have since talked to many people who did not even read it because of the title artwork. Personally, I think that is silly, since one should not judge a book by its cover.

Zombies add a hilarious notion to a piece of literature set in a period of stiffness and proper conduct. The books bizarre juxtaposition appealed to me on the comedic level as much as to me being a big fan of Austen. Pride & Prejudice is a satire and I do think that Austen herself would love the idea of this mash-up. Unfortunately though, this is where I think this book fails. It stays a good concept, but it delivers only a fraction of what it promises. It has its moments of hysterical and wicked fun married with the macabre, but the execution is overall inconsistent and weak. The first chapters make you laugh your head off and then it tapers into the background and comes with a big return towards the end when we get a Crouching Tiger meets Austen moment.

I am no fan of horror (too many horror movie matinees at the age of seventeen) and there is some horror in this book. I never really felt the “ultraviolent zombie mayhem” while reading, because it is being portrayed in a very matter of fact style and the characters fight according to the regency times with polite elegance and a nonchalance that makes you take that attitude as well. Therefore horror, blood and gore were not even in my field of vision while reading, the zombies did not materialize in my head. I did ignore the potty humor, as I think it neither funny nor shocking, but rather infantile and not very clever.

I am new to the genre of mash-up, but I thought it takes two aspects and by mashing them up transforms them into something different. I don’t think there is a transformation here, it does stay Pride & Prejudice. There is nothing very original about the addition that were made, they are mere sprinkles in the awesome work of Jane Austen. I kept wondering throughout if it would be more interesting with more twists like those regarding Charlotte and Collins, but I came to the conclusion that it would add so much more implausible plot, that it could become rather annoying. Or maybe that is exactly what would make this better and achieve a transformation?

Would I recommend it to friends? I love Pride & Prejudice and it was a fun way to spent some hours on a dreary winter afternoon, so I was entertained. On the other hand though, I was thoroughly bugged by inconsistencies in plot, geography and spelling that really puts this more on the level of online fanfic rather than being a book to shell out money for. With a better editor and stronger writing, this could have been something that Jane Austen herself would have enjoyed.

This might be a great way though to trick weary teenagers into reading Jane Austen. I give it three stars, not great, not bad.

200 years Chopin

2010-03-01T22:34:00.009-05:00

Wszystkiego Najlepszego Fryderyk! I have no idea how to pronounce it, but it means 'Happy Birthday Frédéric' in Polish. Thanks to Fiddler at Rockhound Place to remind me of Chopin's birthday with her post, even though there is no absolute certainty if March first really was the day he was born. Last year we had Mendelssohn to celebrate and this year Chopin. There are celebrations all around the globe, but especially in Poland of course. Chopin's life and heritage is very interesting in the sense that he examplifies in one way how intertwined France and Poland are. Many people think Chopin is French and they are wrong but also a little right at the same time.

While reading about Chopin today, it occurred to me that I have never gone through a Chopin phase. I actually don't think I ever will. I have definite favorite pieces, the very well known Nocturne in E# minor and the Prelude in E minor for example. I would love to be able to play the Etude 25 Winter Wind, usually played very fast, though I prefer it very slow, as it becomes somewhat haunting. If I one were to look into my brain and look at the music section, they would discover a huge love for French composers, from early music to modern. Even though Chopin spent the second half of his life in France and his father had come to Poland from France, I cannot find in his music what I consider typically French. This is neither quantifiable nor educated, just based on my emotional experience.

Like many others though, I struggle at the piano with Chopin. Usually I give up relatively quickly. And then I saw this video on youtube (stick around for 0:25) and it makes me want to run to the piano and play, as much as it makes me want to sell it real fast and look for a different past time.

Robert Schumann on Chopin: "It was an unforgettable picture to see Chopin sitting at the piano like a clairvoyant, lost in his dreams; to see how his vision communicated itself through his playing, and how, at the end of each piece, he had the sad habit of running one finger over the length of the plaintive keyboard, as though to tear himself forcibly away from his dream."

Red velvet cupcakes

2010-02-27T20:50:00.010-05:00

Red Velvet cake is one of those things I have always heard about, but did not taste before last fall at a bridal shower. I consider most cakes over here too sweet, but the one I tried was really good. The idea to make some red velvet cupcakes got stuck in my head and when we had a completely unexpected snow day this week, finally the day to make them had arrived. Now you have to understand how I go about something like this, extensive research and reading is required and one thing was blatantly obvious, everybody has their own personal way to do this cake, with the only common component being a ton of red food coloring being used. That was something I definitely wanted to avoid, food dye, especially red is like poison for kids with ADD. Some of the recipes have nothing to do with red velvet cake, outside of being red that is. Some people just make a red vanilla pound cake, atrocious!

Originally the cake got the red color due to a reaction between buttermilk, vinegar, baking soda and the alkaline dutch process cocoa. Cocoa has changed over the years though. I wonder how they colored this cake in the Waldorf-Astoria in New York, where it was very popular in the Twenties. One recipe I found used red beets, but all the other ingredients seemed not as typical. I decided to go my typical route, an amalgamation of many different recipes, plucking a detail here and there which adhered to my sense of baking. The original frosting is a butter roux - a cooked flour frosting - and not cream cheese frosting - yeah, something new to learn :)

So here it goes, my red velvet cupcake recipe:

Roast a couple of red beets in the oven, peel them and puree them with tart cherry juice. This might also work with jarred beets, in which case you might not need the juice, but I have not tried this.

Mix 2 cups of the red beet puree
1 - 2 teaspoons real vanilla extract
1 cup of buttermilk

Sift together:
1.5 cups organic whole grain pastry flour
1 cup regular organic flour
1 teaspoon of salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
2/3 cup of dutch process cocoa

Cream
1 cup of butter
1.5 cups of sugar and then add
3 eggs, one at a time

and then add alternating from the flour mix and the beet mix until the dough is all mixed.

Combine
2 teaspons balsamic vinegar with
2 teaspoons baking soda
which will fizz like crazy and you feel like a weired scientist.
Mix into the dough

fill 24 cupcake liners and bake in a preheated oven of 350 F for about 20 minutes. Now I am not completely sure about the time, just test it with a wooden skewer.

While the cupcakes cool down, make the roux frosting.

While creaming together
3/4 cup of butter with
1/2 cup of sugar and
some vanilla extract

whisk, while heating on the stove
3/4 cup of milk
a pinch of salt
3 tablespoons of flour until thick.
Let the milk and flour paste cool and then mix it slowly into the creamed butter and sugar. Beat for quite a while until it is very creamy and smooth. Frost the cupcakes or if you make a cake instead, fill it. I had made some chocolate decorations (just pipe melted bitter chocolate on a baking mat and then cool) that I stuck into the frosting. I piped the frosting onto the cupcakes, as I think it just gives a nicer finish that applied with a blade. The frosting will firm up very nicely in the fridge.

Everybody really liked these cupcakes, they were moist, not too sweet and had a wonderful chocolate taste. They were not bright red, more like a red tinged devil's food cake, but they were just the right balance in taste and texture. I will definitely have to make them again, and if we make it to the Waldorf during the next holiday season, I will have to try their red velvet cake.

Defeated

2010-02-26T15:40:00.002-05:00

As a friend reminded me last week, it has been close to a year that I have not blogged on this blog. My excuse so far has been that I wanted to finish the last days of my travel blog first and never seem to get around doing so. But that is really just an excuse, though not far fetched, as I am a skilled master of the art of standing in my own way.

But I think the reason I have not written lies much deeper and it struck me this week that the truth is, I feel defeated and I feel so down on me and my life that I feel like there is nothing to write. No, actually, there is a lot to write, but it is all negative and who wants to read that anyway. I advise you to stop reading any further and if you do so, you do at your own risk. But I don’t want to talk things up anymore and hide my feelings and pretend everything is marginally okay. I am being candid.

I have been reading a lot lately, the best diversion there is, escaping into the worlds painted by other people, some very skilled ones and some not so much. But I have not been able to even write a short review of anything I read. I have a graduate degree in literature for crying out loud and I cannot write a few sentences about a book? Quite baffling. I could write a brilliant thesis, but not some f...ing little review? Doubts are creeping in that maybe, possibly I might not be capable of any original thoughts at all? All my life I really just wanted to be a writer and yet I do not write. I am too afraid to fail, too afraid that the assessments of my teachers and professors regarding my talent in writing were somehow misguided.

So here I am not doing anything with my life. I gave up my chosen career of writing for the radio for my own misguided reasons and moved to this country and since then had nothing but great ideas and feeble attempts. I find myself having reached a midlife full of self loathing. I cannot stand living in this seemingly shallow and meaningless suburbia, where we pretend everything is fine when the world is really a catastrophe. Or maybe I really hate even more that my own life is devoid of meaning.

When my children were both denied services at school last spring - after all smart children with handicaps are not worthy of help, they can muddle through well enough and school is only accountable for getting the bottom kids up - it felt like a huge blow. I had to put all my books and papers and research away and just forget about it as much as possible. But somewhere inside me it festered and my anger and resentment cannot be forgotten. The moment of failure to get help for my children has strangely been a pivotal moment for me.

Since having children, my life has mostly consisted of keeping them healthy and functioning as much as possible. Most of my energy have been spent on this. I have read so many books and articles and posts, I have been to workshops and acquired quite some knowledge regarding anything in the direction of Asperger, ADD, Sensory Processing Dysfunction, mood disorders in kids, difficult children, spirited children, fussy children, negative children... you get the drift. I know special education law, I know how to survive a baby that does not stop screaming, a child that can go into respiratory distress any moment... I know I could have done a worse job, I am not sure if I could not have done a better one. For a decade I was a pretty good advocate for my children and the hope to get help and to make things better were enough motivation. Supporting my children and working so hard to make them function well enough brought us to the point that they were denied help. Oh the irony of fate. This little, tiny meeting was enough though to deflate hope and motivation. Since that day, I have not been the same, it is like something inside me broke. I cannot explain why this small detail brought down the whole house of cards. Maybe I was just tired of pushing and holding it up?

I think there is another dimension contributing to the feeling of defeat. My children get to do all the things I always wanted to do and never got to do. Should this not make me feel so happy? Should I not feel some kind of satisfaction? It does not, because my children are not me and when I watch them having these opportunities, it brings back the childhood desperation I felt when being denied exactly those opportunities. My children are not at fault, but their childhood is the catalyst in bringing back to mind mine. I had a lousy childhood, extremely lonely and filled with anxiety. I was a brilliant child with many talents, but without guidance and opportunities, it got all wasted.

And now I feel like I have wasted my life, the light bulb reached the end of its life and burned out. Apparently too late to develop my talents, midlife hormonal upheaval has now also robbed me of my superior intellect. I am scatterbrained and forgetful, seriously, it feels like there is a bad batch of mashed potatoes sludging around where my brain should be. My emotions are on a roller coaster, I can go between laughing hysterically to non-stop crying faster than a raccoon gets to our cat food. Despite my busy social life, I feel incredible lonely and lost. I don’t know what to do, where to turn and how to keep going. I feel defeated. Because isn’t that what defeat is, being devoid of hope and motivation?

I have no reason for self pity and I don't feel any, do not misread my lines, I am rather cross with myself actually. I know there are many people out there who have reason to bitch and moan and complain. Anyway: here it is, this is why I am not writing, because I am living a gray cloud of defeat and despair, trying every single day to pull myself out of the mud like Munchhausen and failing more with each attempt. So here I sit, on a cloudy February afternoon, staring at the button 'PUBLISH POST' I need to click to publish this and I am not sure whether I really want to invite people to share my view into the abyss of my dysfunctional self.

But what the heck, at least I wrote something.

We are in Germany!

2009-06-26T17:58:00.001-04:00

We are in Germany for 8 weeks and will also visit fantastic places like Copenhagen, Prague and Salzburg. Follow us on our travel blog Geremania: http://geremania.blogspot.com/

Between concerts, excursions and talks, no time for blogging

2009-04-30T11:29:00.005-04:00

I have been quite busy lately, as somebody noticed on Facebook "You've been off doing some pretty fun sounding stuff lately."

Two weeks ago I went to a Paul Winter solo concert at the Central Connecticut State University and it was quite wonderful and worth the long drive. They moved it to a smaller theater than planned and I was sitting right there in the front and listend not just to the wonderful music, but also his stories about making music in the pitch dark in some park out west or in the Grand Canyon. I was so fortunate to attend another concert a week later called ONE Earth featuring the Orchestra New England and the Paul Winter Consort in Woolsey Hall at Yale University. This was such a treat, the organist from St. John the devine was there playing that amazing organ and Paul Maccandles and Eugene Friesen (yeah :)!) were there as well. It was so neat to hear this music with a whole orchestra, how different and wonderful. I also got introduced to some music by Charles Ives, which I thought was very interesting. Of course we got to enjoy a lot of very lovely music at All Saints in Worcester, J had to sing a lot lately and she loves every moment of it (and so do we). My concert is coming up in just 2 weeks and I was finally able to pick up my voice lessons again.

But music has not been the only fun and interesting thing lately. We had two other meetings of Germans in Massachusetts and there are some really nice people in that group, I am happy I have met them. We are planning a picnic in May and maybe there is a slight chance some of us will meet in Germany this summer. A lot of them live in the northeast corner and so we seized the opportunity and spend a wonderful day at the beach in New Hampshire. Being at the beach makes all of us feel better and I wonder why we hardly ever go. When we moved here, I thought we would be making a run for the shore all the time. We are all looking forward to spend a whole week on the most beautiful island in the North Sea.

I have also been jumping into action with the process of getting help for the kids in school. It is a very difficult thing to have dual exceptions, meaning neurological problems while being gifted. It is hard for teachers to see that these children need help, they seem to do fine, but at to high a cost emotionally. I joined multiple organizations and online groups and I went to yet another whole day seminar on special education law and even though I went home with a head swimming in paragraphs and laws, I think I did learn a lot, espescially how to interpret test scores, which is not straightforward, but very important. Tonight I will attend a talk about Asperger Syndrome and the whole body, which is also a very important topic and just thinking about it reminded me how I need to put much more thought into S's sensory diet, which we have been neglected since we stopped occupational therapy. Almost everybody in this family is seeing some kind of therapist, so there are a lot of books to read, things to learn and new approaches to be tried. Sometimes it is hard for me to keep my sanity in all this, but I try.

The struggle to be happy has been with me all my life and that is not surprising if you know about my strange life. I hope to gain some insight this weekend, since I am going to see the Dalai Lama for two sessions at Foxborough. Yes a stadium is an awful spot for something so mentally important, but at least I got tickets right up front (not like the U2 concert in Septemer, which will be more a soaking up the atmosphere than really seeing the band itself). Work has always made me happy - go figure - and I have been working like crazy for our school TV show. If this would be paid, our 8 week Germany trip would be less scary, but it is not. Well, I am gaining more and more experience. We have been filming at school almost daily. I went on a fieldtrip this week to Concord/Lexington with the third graders and it was so much fun. Seeing children at my favorite spots while making it into a 30 minute stand alone show, how much fun. And we can put the stop motion stuff into this, because S will do some artwork and we will reenact Paul Revere's midnight ride with paper puppets!

I have also been working on a short film with fourth graders that will be shown at the fourth grade concert in May. Even though this was a tiny in the school production, it is still fun to shoot and edit and come up with a little fun 4 minute film. It seems that lately it has all been about photos and filming and editing and I still find no time at all to write my book. I am constantly working on it in the back of my head and I will have to put some time aside in the fall and winter. I should not even write this, I know that is so silly to write.

Can somebody just give me some more time please, pretty please?

post holiday paralysis and stop motion animation

2009-04-13T12:49:00.005-04:00

Instead on writing about my connection to lent, I have been talking with a lot of people about it and have been way to busy to write something meaningful. Now I have this strange kind of after-the-holiday-paralysis, where I should be working on putting the house back in order, finish taxes and take care of things before this week crazy schedule takes off. Last week was nuts in regards to J's singing schedule and having 2 parties to prepare and this week will be equally nuts with me having to lug my cameras and tripods to school for 4 events, one being a real scripted little film I got myself involved in.

So how does this paralysis look like? I spend the better part of the morning hanging out with my visiting MIL talking about this and that and by the time she has to leave, it is past noon. Noon is my cut-off time, if I have not gotten anything accomplished by then, forget it, it ain't gonna happen. I blame this on the protestant work ethic that was hammered into me as a child. Also hammered into me was not to do anything on Sunday and I worked hard yesterday like any mom and hostess on a holiday - so I just consider this my day off, well half of it anyway.

Last night somebody posted a Playmobil stop motion animation on the Playmobil board. Even though the production was not that captivating, it got me interested in what equipment I would need to do this with the kids and so I got into researching it and finding all these cool little videos and since I have a Firewire DV camcorder, I might be all set outside of the software, which is quite cheap. We have so much Playmobil and the kids are very creative, I bet they would love a weekend project like that and I can teach thema bit about project planning, story boarding, camera angles, how film works etc... Maybe we can even work with blue screen (which is usually green nowadays).

This is somebody's first attempt and I think the motion is very well made.

So hopefully sometimes this year the G-Girls can make a fun little stop motion animation video using our plethora of Playmobil supplies. We just need to come up with a fun little story, I am convinced though that it will be something fantasy like.

Maundy Thursday

2009-04-09T22:56:00.009-04:00

Sometimes a day just feels different than other days, like there is some significance to it, without being explicit. Today I had such a day. It is Maundy Thursday, the day of the last supper and J was singing at church. I am still wondering why I experienced lent so differently this year, actually experienced it at all. Maybe it is the music, or maybe it is because the full moon is shining while Passover and the holy week an Easter fall together. It feels as if my heart and soul are wide open.

I do not believe in god, I have tried, but I just don't, no matter how much I wish I would. I think it would be wonderful, there would be instant purpose and meaning and so much more hope. Instead I am a sort of existentialist, even if I do believe in more than the apparent world. Still though, going to the service tonight seemed so important and the words had so much meaning. I did not have the usual feeling of being an intruder, or an impostor, instead it felt right. The drama of tonight's service, the music, the movement, the stripping of the altar, the slamming of the cross while turning off all light, of course that all has an emotional impact. This was deepened by the choir singing Ave verum corpus by Mozart (KV618), which I sang in chorus as a teenager and it is very special to me.*

And while I was sitting there in church, listening so closely, it occurred to me why this felt so different. I might not believe in the divine, but I do believe in Jesus Christ, not necessarily as the son of god, but as a charismatic leader and reformer. It always has been strange, because I have always liked church, the rituals, the music, the meaning. I like the social structure it gives, the morals and ethics. I have met so many people who were believers, but wanted nothing to do with church, I also have met so many people that are deeply engrossed in the church and did not really live as very good Christians. For many years when this topic comes up, I have told people that I believe a person can be a good christian without actually believing in god and most people don't understand it. I suppose I see church from a sociological standpoint as a concept and as a way to build community. This probably stems from the way I grew up. I grew up in the parish, the church buildings were my home, the cantor and custodian people I saw daily. Since my mother worked for the church, our life was centered there, yet is was completely devoid of any religious deeper content or connotation. My whole family is as non religious as they get. As a young adult, I became very involved in another church (all Lutheran anyway) and found a wonderful community there, that I still miss. And when I left home for University, it was the university's church group that gave me the same 20 years ago.

When we became parents, we wanted to give our children the chance to find faith and decide on their own what they believe or not, but I got to a point where it did not seem to make much sense anymore. There was no presence of god in our lives, save for some prayers at mealtime and it felt truly wrong to me to participate in the communion and to say I believe in the trinity, which I know to be a man made concept from early church history. I cannot suspend disbelief and I had to stop going to church. There were a couple of other factors that contributed.

But tonight I did feel some sense of belonging, maybe it is because I spend so much time there bringing J to choir, maybe it is that it is not my church and they have no expectations or possibly it is because they welcome everybody with open arms. Whatever it might be, I think I have accepted to be without faith in god and I embrace the believes I do have. So therefore, it has been quite a meaningful day and of course, it was full of music :)

* My friends and me would sing it a lot when out and about - our other two favorites where the Marsaillaise and Ma na ma na from the Muppets and I admit it is a very eclectic mix.

Music and Lent part II: Arvo Pärt’s Kanon Pokajanen

2009-04-07T11:30:00.007-04:00

A few years back, right after Christmas, we were driving from Connecticut back to our home in Pennsylvania and crossing the Tappan Zee Bridge late at night. Our radio picked up these deep and ethereal vocal harmonies transitioning between gradual elevation, abrupt changes and returns into complete calm while staying in a consistent mood. There was a tonal quality almost like bells or organ pipes, so pure, not in the sense of innocent, but in it’s perfection. The music transitions between quiet and full, high voices against the dark voices resonating on the bottom. Listening to the powerful and stirring music was an experience of meditation.

I was introduced to the mesmerizing, beautiful and cathartic Kanon Pokajanen by the estonian composer Arvo Pärt, which was commissioned for the 750th anniversary celebration of the Cologne Cathedral in ‘98 and was recorded in Tallinn/Estonia in Niguliste Church by the outstanding Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir. It took Pärt two years to write this very long piece that has tremendous meaning to him.

When the human voice transcends something higher, transforms into a pure instrument and the frequencies, the movement and synergy of the voices in a minimalist cacophony create an emotional state which spoke to something so deep within me, something no thoughts can reach. It was like an auditory epiphany. The music conveyed to me a point of connection between earth and heaven, between reality and spirituality, between dark and light and it touched me in a profound and unforgettable way.

Quite often I would listen to it, wallowing in the immense beauty and the feeling of it, but I never tried to analyze it. I had given the CDs to a friend who was interested and she returned them to me and since they were in the car, I started listening again and a lot (driving hours every day). It was as if the music allowed me to be inside it and at the same time was inside me, speaking from the composer’s to my innermost being and I recognized that this music symbolizes and expresses my feelings of repentance and lent. I decided to write about Kanon Pokajanen and started with reading the CD’s booklet, just to find out that the music had told me all along.

The text is based on the canon of repentance of the Russian Orthodox Church and is sung in the old Slavic language. The text was very important to Arvo Pärt, he said: “In this composition, as in many of my vocal works, I tried to use language as a point of departure. I wanted the word to be able to find its own sound, to draw its own melodic line. Somewhat to my surprise, the resulting music is entirely immersed in the particular character of Church Slavonic, a language used exclusively in ecclesiastical texts." What I consider amazing is the because the text is phonetically so foreign to me that I do not hear recognizable words which allows me to forgo my rationale and reach a spiritual depth that allows me to feel and understand the meaning without even attempting to make a connection to the text. When music can speak that universally, it is genial.

From the booklet notes by Marina Bobrik-Fromke: "It is a song of change and transformation. In the symbolism of the church, it invokes the border between day and night, Old and New Testament, old Adam and new Adam (Christ), prophecy and fulfillment, the here and the hereafter. Applied to a person, it recalls the border between human and divine, weakness and strength, suffering and salvation. In the canon of repentance, the text is devoted to the theme of personal transformation. Repentance appears as a necessary threshold, as a kind of purification on the way to salvation in paradise. The difficulty of following the way is shown by the inner tension between the respective eirmos and the following stanzas, that is, between the praise of the Lord and the lamentation of one's own weakness."

There is a very good editorial review by Evan Cater here.

Next: Why is lent so important for an agnostic like me?

Music and Lent part I: Music is my religion

2009-04-06T23:21:00.010-04:00

A few posts back I mentioned the brush fire of thoughts regarding lent and music and so here we go with my little series. It became pretty clear to me that music - the highest achievement of humanity in my view - is my religion, since it is close to the only thing that reaches that very deep spiritual spot inside me. I am not sure how to describe this internal place. It is a place of complete harmony, where everything is connected and energy flows, where the physical world stops to exist and gives room to something much bigger. I had a few key experiences when music brought me to this spiritual place, in a way a feeling of total bliss and etheral existance in that moment alone, where everything else falls away.

If somebody would talk about my early childhood, they would probably mention that I seemed to sing and dance through every moment of the day, music was with me at all times. The first time I was deeply touched by a specific piece of music was as a six year old listening to Schubert’s 8th (the unfinished one). Actually my mother had this compilation record that she was playing over and over and introduced me to some fantastic music. It is absolutely ingrained in my brain. One or two years later we went to a concert in our church St. Johannis on Maundy Thursday where Claus Bantzer was playing the organ and I deeply felt the passion of Jesus, it was like a revelation to have experienced such a profound expression in the music and scary as well, because of the depth of the emotion that I had not felt that way before. I kind of grew up in that church, since we lived in the parish house and therefore had the luck that he played at our wedding in that church.

Another musical moment of perfection happened to me on a month long bike trip through Sweden with our youth group. We camped in the yards of the parish houses. In the church building in Sätila at the end of the Lyngern Fjord (the photo is from the Sätila kyrka website) south of Gothenburg stood this brand new wonderful Steinway grand that had been tuned to absolute perfection. I sat there forever and just played a note at a time, listening to it resound and fade and it’s reverberations. The sound was beyond striking the strings with a felted hammer, it was incredible and unforgettable. Later a member of our group - who was a brilliant player and an arrogant prick - could with his harmonies not get the same reaction as just one note had did for me. I am convinced that in order to experience these moments, we need to open our soul all the way to let this indescribable synergy of music in and touch us.

Many years later I threw myself into the youth ministry at one of our churches in the hope to somehow find some kind of faith. Some of my friends and I used to attend Taize* evenings and so I found myself one evening sitting in a circle and the burning light of the setting sun threw itself threw one of the stain glass windows into my face while I was chanting and I had this sudden epiphany, this certain feeling of the existence of something higher and bigger and something that just cannot be put into words, I would not define it as define per se though. I had just lost my god father and uncle and maybe I was just seeking solace, it is hard to say.

I once was on the road to pick up my husband (then boyfriend) and the radio was playing Antonin Dvorak’s 9th (New World) Symphony. I had listened to it many times, but at that moment, it reached much deeper. I had to pull over and stop the car. I sat there in our little red Peugeot in a complete trance and did not even have any thoughts, it was like a meditation, but at the end I was crying and could not stop. It was truely amazing. Isn’t it incredible how art can touch us in these ways?

One of the most influential musicians in my life has been Paul Winter and the first time I attended the solstice concert with the Paul Winter consort in the cathedral St. John the Devine in New York, it was to me like a religious experience. When he came out on the stage and started playing his soprano sax, it hit me. I sat right in front of the stage. What an amazing feeling, I am unbelievably grateful for that. Arvo Pärt’s Kanon Pokajanen touched me in such a profound way, that I will give it a whole post by itself. And anyway, this post is already a bit too long for a blog entry.

* The Taizé Community is an ecumenical christian monastic order in Taizé in Burgundy/France. The music is chant like with repetitive and beautiful lines (often from psalms), sometimes sung in canon and bringing the singers to a different meditative state.

Second hand children's clothing is illegal

2009-04-06T11:52:00.002-04:00

This morning I had the bright idea to stop at a thrift store and look for some high end used kid's clothing, since my muffins are growing so fast. Anybody who knows my children also knows that they always wear cool and funky clothing. I am a very thrifty shopper and can find good deals, but I also rely on second hand clothing through church sales, ebay, garage sales - you name it. This way you can get the best, already broken in and comfy, for a fraction. I am very persnickety about what my kids wear and it is so awesome to find a Ralph Lauren dress for $4, a Hanna Andersson outfit for $5 or a Patagonia jacket for $3.50 (the kids had that for 4 years!)

To my surprise, there was no clothing for children anywhere in the store and upon my asking why, I was told that there are no more thrift stores with children's clothing, because a new law is in effect. I was standing there completely dumbfounded. Not for a second did I question even that there is a law, after all, we need a law for everything, since we all are incapable of thinking for ourselves. For example pyjamas, because there is law that they need to be fire retardent, most sleepwear is made from artificial fiber and just for the fun of it, doused in flame retardent chemicals - I am sure that is great. When made out of cotton, they are made so snug fitting, that only children that are extremely skinny can actually fit in them. My children only sleep in organic cotton pj's that fit them just right and I have to spend a fortune on them. Most children though sleep in big, loose t-shirts anyway and they are all doomed to burn - even though more children die of carbon monoxide poisoning before the flames reach them anyway.

So now I cannot buy cool, used kid's clothing anymore and I also cannot sell huge pile waiting downstairs to be sold... I can also not donate it anymore - all children's clothing will end up in landfills, what a complete waste. This article in the L.A.Times explains it all. And here is a petition to revise or change the law. This law was put in effect because of lead in clothing, which now can only be sold if tested. This also effects small companies making clothing for kids that cannot afford the testing, or people who handcraft anything for children and sell it on etsy, at craft shows or the likes. I am all for removing toxins out of children's clothing, but this law seems to go about it the wrong way.

We live in tough economic times and it does not look very promising for the near future. A lot of families rely on thrift stores, I guess second hand Ralph Lauren pure cotton just won't be available anymore and has to be exchanged for low quality Walmart clothing, fresh from China and still outgasing... this is completely insane and I am really mad! I already wrote an email to Kerry, Kennedy and McGovern and also a real letter and in the meantime I will just buy from ebay in England and Germany then. I just hope that our episcopalian church has not found out about this and I can find plenty of clothing there at their annual sale, because they have this family with children that are just a bit older than mine and we buy all their donated Gap and L.L.Bean seonds.

Palm Sunday, Bach, Venice and Fish Poisoning...

2009-04-05T23:20:00.012-04:00

This morning, as any other morning, my alarm clock dutifully woke me up. In contrast to other days though, Sundays are so much nicer, bad news are replaced by lovely music. And oh lovely it was today. Usually I just snooze a few times, but the beautiful music this morning, made me head straight for the computer to find out exactly which Bach piece (that was obvious) I was listening too.

It was the Bach Cantata BWV 182 "Himmelskönig, sei willkommen", which Bach wrote in 1714 for Palm Sunday. It was performed by the Monteverdi Choir and English Baroque Soloists under direction of John Eliot Gardiner. The recording is magnificent and bright, just brilliant, unfortunately rather expensive though. I am contemplating if I should make my own Bach cantata of the month club and study a different one every month. I have always wanted to dive into the works of Bach for a deeper understanding and broader knowledge.

And of course, today was Palm Sunday, the Sunday before Easter, which commemorates the triumphant return of Jesus to Jerusalem before his Passion. Last year on this day, I was in Venice with my mother. We had a little apartment around the corner from the church of Santa Maria Formosa and when we turned onto the church's square, we noticed everybody was preparing for the Palm Sunday Procession with music to the St. Mark's Basilica. Many young men were playing guitars and everybody was holding up palm tree branches and it all felt festive, jubilant, sacred and ritualistic at once. I wanted to watch the procession, rather than participate, so we kept taking parallel paths, which is actually not that easy in Venice and all of a sudden we lost them. But the moment we reached St. Mark's square, they arrived at a different corner and we got to see them all pass by again and make a big detour around the square to march directly into the beautiful Basilica. In a very strange way it felt special to us, because of all the churches in Venice, it was "our" church after all.

We spent some time at the Museum Correr in the Napoleonic Wing until our feet gave out and we proceeded to our highly anticipated visit of Cafe Florian, one of the oldest and probably most expensive cafes of the world and absolutely worth a visit. My tea sandwiches had caviar on them, which I do not care for, but ate anyway. This was rather unfortunate, since it gave me fish poisoning and a gut wrenching night, not quite as triumphant as the procession, just a good story to tell. (Hey, I went to the worlds most exquisite cafe and got poisoned - what are the odds?)

But back to the Bach cantata 182, listen to part V, the alto solo "Leget Euch dem Heiland unter", isn't it very interesting?

A little spark that started a brushfire in my thoughts regarding music and life

2009-03-23T11:41:00.006-04:00

If you read the previous post, you already know my new found love with Facebook. So while I was checking what a friend was up to, he had been tagged to write a list of 25 records/CDs that were most influential in his life. I thought that might be an interesting thing to do as well, even though I was not even tagged. So I started compiling my list and of course was completely unable to narrow it down to just 25. As a piece of useful information I might add that it is very difficult for me to put things into a list, to pick favorites to make a rating of one over the other. The problem is, that everything has a different meaning depending on the context. A friend suggested to take out classical music and maybe make 2 lists, but then there are all these cross over genres so to say the least, I was overwhelmed with the task of deciding. Even though I knew I could take some CDs out of the stack, there where also some that were somewhere else in the house and then there were 5 years of iTunes downloads and hundreds of LPs in boxes. So I never did my list, but kept thinking and analyzing.

Then a friend returned Arvo Pärt's 'Kanon Pokajanen' CD to me, a very important piece that would definitely end up in the list and I started thinking about it while listening to it for hours on end. So I decided to write about it, because it represents lent for me and it is lent. Just writing about and analyzing that genial music alone is a huge undertaking. Following those thoughts though came the question why lent is important to me, if I am really an agnostic of some sort. So now I am thinking about my spirituality and my faith, if that is the right word for it. There we have it, I wanted to write a blog entry about a piece and then it became more and more and is turning into this whole essay. Isn't it amazing what one thought about music can do to your brain. I think I need a catchy psa video: "your brain on music". So hopefully within the next days I can start posting this kind of essay piece by piece, day by day, like a series. Anybody got a good title for the series for me?

Why I love Facebook and you should too...

2009-03-15T20:45:00.003-04:00

Obviously my blog has been shamelessly neglected. Even though I do find a lot of time just sitting here and waiting to get better, it is relatively hard to have coherent thoughts on valium. But that is not the whole story. I have been cheating on my blog and have spent my time on Facebook. I don't even recall why I did sign up, I just did and in no time got a good roster of friends. Being kind of glued to my back chair, I have spent hours on Facebook and have also pondered the question that is looming inquiring about it's popularity.

There are several reasons why I like Facebook so much. The most obvious is that it is social networking. I used to think that social networking websites are a very sad occurrence of modern life, leaving us even more isolated and contributing to the artificial and superficial components of our life. I have learned quickly that it is not so. I have been way more in touch with people that live around the corner than previously. But I have also reconnected with people in Pennsylvania, California and Germany. Of course I could have just send them a letter or an email, but after years, that is something that is just being put off. It is also very tedious to write many letters about all the same. And when I run into another mom at pick-up time at school, I am not going to tell her something like: "Hey my friend said this to me and then I bought a cookbook and did not want to get up this morning and my throat hurts and did you know I beat somebody at scrabble and then with a glass of wine watched American Idol."

Facebook allows me to participate in the little things of other people's life and vice versa. I do not only directly connect to people, I see their interactions with others and therefore get a much broader view of the web aspect than under conventional circumstances. When I signed up for twitter a few weeks ago and linked it to my blog, I had meant it as an experiment. I was and I still am uncertain of my opinion. Somebody wrote a great essay about it and that it seems so silly that people share these completely inane and uninteresting daily life facts. Even thought fascinated, I did agree with that at first and then it occurred to me within the last days,that this is where the strength is. It is not the extravagant and out of the ordinary things, it is the everyday life of all of us.

When we used to live more communal, with extended family around us and in close contact with our neighbors, everybody kind of knew what everybody was up to and that got completely lost with our modern life styles. This sense of community is brought back by facebook, I get the little details of friends and their friends and I can comment and they can comment. Where twitter is a one-dimensional one task network, Facebook allows about everything. I can play scrabble with my sister in law, or all sort of other games with other friends or play solo, trying to beat their scores. I can send messages, I can see other peoples messages, there are notes and links and tags and photos and videos and fan groups - so just about everything one could think of. It just wraps everything in one and makes it easy for people to be inside the network.

So yes, I am addicted, because I am shown that we all have an interest in each other and that we all care. In this sense Facebook does not isolate us more by only virtually pretending to be linked in, it actually does it. This puts communication on a different level that any other communication outside of really sitting at the kitchen table together, which is not possible with the way we live scattered all over the world.

The only issue I have is with the people that are not on Facebook. They are missing out, they will not know that I bought a Tapas cookbook and that I just beat Sophie at Carcarssonne.

It's very dark in the tunnel!

2009-03-09T18:11:00.000-04:00

I have never liked tunnels. I am a person who likes to be in control, I need to know where I am and where I am going, so natural tunnels are not a spot of joy. The whole idea of having tons of water or mountain above you is quite disconcerting to me. I am sure that a lot of people feel this way about tunnels, why else would we have the lovely metaphor of the light at the end of the tunnel. I might be wrong, but I think originally it was really a symbol for our life on earth and the light being heaven. As an agnostic not my an interpretation that fits for me.

I feel like I am in a very deep and long tunnel, maybe a tunnel maze, so who knows if there is a way out. Each time I see a light, it disappears and things seem even darker. When talking to friends, a lot of us feel the same: everywhere we look and listen to, things are bad and keep getting worse. Life like we knew will not be here again. The laundry list of things going wrong in this world is so long, one could write a trilogy and not finish. The economic crisis is weighing on everybody, trying to get by financially, schools loosing funding to the point of absurdity, healthcare being ridiculous, violence and starvation in so many parts of the world, climate going to hell, food being incredibly expensive while lacking nutrients, a general disconnect in many aspects of life... I could go on and on and bore you to death.

My ten year old has anxiety and is stressed, my younger one with AS feels frustrated because she desires nothing more than making friends , my husband feels the burden of having to provide for us in these times and must fear the fate of many around us ( layoffs). My professional life is so tiny, my life as a caretaker gets no validation... you get the drift, we all feel the tunnel and cannot see the life. I am no stranger to anxiety and depression and my best remedy has always been hope, optimism, planning and: music. Now my back problems are so huge, that I had to make the decision not to sing the coming concert with my chorus, this has been a very difficult decision and it has taken away the little light I was seeing, the little Felix (luck) Mendelssohn light somewhere ahead. Of course this is the right decision, my husband has been my compass in this and just laid out the facts. It still feels awful though. At the same time I have to wonder why I am sitting here with my 43 years of life experience and a very big heap of difficulties that I mastered and I cannot stop crying just because I cannot sing in a concert. Maybe there is actually a light and I just cannot see it because my eyes are so wet?

I am not proof reading, editing and constructing this entry, I am just writing it as it is coming out of my finger tips , it is a new experience for me as I am trying to be less of a perfectionist, isn't a stream of consciousness closer to the idea of a blog anyway?

I feel really silly sitting here and crying, when there are a million worse things in the world. It is so selfcentered, something I despise, so then I have to despise myself and cry even more and this is getting so absurd and I actually had to laugh out loud now.

Thanks for listening (in a reading sort of way)

Bowling, the three sentence limit and no kumquats!

2009-03-05T17:04:00.004-05:00

For a while there I was doing pretty good with posting on this blog, even though I have to admit that the whole compass thing is not really enough of a focus.

I have learned a few things in the past days. For one thing it is very funny to have a phone conversation while having the hick-ups. Also, two Valium work better than one. Whenever children see therapists, they turn into very mature, reasonable and responsible little citizens making their mother looks like idiots. This country is obsessed with superficial values. Health insurances make medical decisions. If you feel rotten and are in pain, a lot of people offer their help and that feels really great. I wish I had magical powers.

Okay these were all random insights into my the momentary lapse of normalcy in my life. I am banned to the red chair, a zero gravity recliner, that used to be my best friend and now I loathe it as it's use means I feel lousy. So here is the story: My little one has Asperger Syndrome and even though she is amazing and wonderful and extremely bright, she lacks in the friendship department. She has 2 friends and I need to make sure to foster interaction. So when we invite a friend, I try really hard to make it very special and fun. It really is a bit like bribery. So I went bowling with her and her friend and as my mom says, that was STUPID! Apparently it should have been clear to me, that 3 herniated disks and bowling do not mix.

The result has been a heavily medicated, miserable me, sitting in my red chair for almost 2 weeks now. At one point I was in so much pain after a chiropractors visit, that driving the van into the next tree seemed like a pretty good idea, but I got myself home with LaMaze breathing (at least the class was good for something). So when you have nothing to do outside of trying to stay in control as CEO of family by being stationary secretary, it seems like a good idea in theory. Silly me, I thought I could blog away, write a bit on my novel, learn Adobe Dreamweaver, watch wonderful chick flicks, read a couple of books, play carcarsonne with S, mend a mountain of hurt clothing etc... you get the drift. And then I find that the cocktail of meds I am taking, kind of turns my brain to a mushy cloud. And a mushy cloud gives me a three sentence limit, which works wonders on Facebook, but not on Blogger.

I had planned to write this entry with three sentences to prove my point and for some reason made a rather long entry. I am contracting myself, this is confusing. I really wanted to post something about Kumquats anyway, but the computer kept crashing when I wanted to edit the photo for that post. Sometimes I don't get myself, is there somebody out there whi gets me?

Just blame it on the Valium :)

I have not laughed this hard in a while

2009-02-25T14:02:00.003-05:00

I am addicted to the Daily Show with John Stewart, nothing better than intellectual, political fun. Watch this clip where Jason Jones talks to a pastor who believes Obama is the antichrist and another who believes he is a second Hitler. It is so absurd that I cannot stop laughing.

Can pants be a mistake of epic proportions?

2009-02-23T12:30:00.007-05:00

I am out of commission and cannot move, my medication makes me dizzy, so reading is not really an option, so what do I do: Day time television - ugh, I'd better be sleeping, really. So I happened across this show called 'What not to wear' and I am disgusted. Some people called in the TV crew because they thought their coworker was looking to frumpy. They filmed her secretly and while looking at the footage laughed their head off. The only thing evaluated is what this person is wearing. I cannot stand the attitude of the co-hosts making fun of their victim. She gets brought to New York for a overhaul and she has to throw out ALL her clothing, while she is on the verge of tears, because she loves some of it. She gets some rules explained and has to head out finding clothing for herself. I think this show is unbelievably shallow and stupid, this persons personality, likes and dislikes are thrown overboard, made fun off and she is has to conform to some external norm. Of course the show justifies itself by every people being so happy with their transformation. And if they can stick to the new rules, the hosts are 'so proud', though they have to scaled her for wearing sensible shoes once.

If somebody feels unhappy with their wardrobe and actually wants and seeks advice and somebody who has a good eye and good people skills takes this person shopping, that can be great. I had an optician pick perfect glasses for me that I would never have picked up myself, but that did not include ridicule or ambushes by camera. There is absolutely nothing wrong with make-overs in general. How about collaboration on a clothing analysis instead of shaming people into change and using words but awful, ugly, hideous and laughing stock? Do unflattering pants really fall in the category of 'mistake of epic proportion' or would not the Iraq war fit better into that category?

A show with sensitive nice hosts that really find out who the person is and work out together what lines, silhouettes and colors work, what looks good, but also feels right. I take issue with making fun of people and making a show out of it, validating such shallow behavior. It is not that I cannot see some value in looking appropriate, after all that is the first impression we give to people and there is always some kind of judgment involved. For me it is actually very important what I wear, because it has to do with how I feel. Clothing is an expression of myself and I spend time and money on it, it is my very own unique style though and rather quirky - it is me. I can just picture what these superficial people on the show would want me to wear and I would absolutely hate it, because it would not be related to the person I am inside.

At the moment I am annoyed by beautiful people

2009-02-22T22:12:00.004-05:00

As I am sitting here and watching the Academy Awards, I cannot help but think about something that was mentioned in the show "the human face" that I watched on PBS a few years back and saw a bit of it again this week. They were talking about beauty and the golden triangle and one very interesting fact was mentioned. It used to be that when we had relative small and constant social circles around us and no mass media, there would be few 'perfect' people - in the sense of beauty - that we ever would encounter. But with movies, television, magazines and other mass media, beautiful faces surround us everywhere. The problem is that this becomes a norm, a norm that normal people can actually not reach and therefore is rather absurd. This leads to most people feeling inadequate and people go to great length to try to be more beautiful, well at least on the outside. I am very happy that my children so far do not seem to waste even on tiny thought on this, even though there are a lot of children around them who think fashion and fame are very important topics.

I have made a very conscious effort to never show my children any kind of unhappiness that I feel in respect to whatever shortcoming is feel I have regarding my looks. I was raised with a mother that was always dieting, always wanted me to do the same and was who was successfully instilling in me the conviction of being ugly. It was very important to not do this to my children. Of course there is nothing wrong with beauty, beauty is beautiful, what can I say, but when did it become a virtue, something that we need to reward and aspire to? Why is it a value placed about things like integrity, intelligence or creativity? I am actually getting to the point where the multitude of beautiful people is getting annoying. I simply cannot stand the fuss about models, the pretty faces trying to sell you beauty products, the huge interest in what these beautiful people are up to. Why is this so important? I think this is one of the reasons I am so drawn to british television shows, which seem so wonderfully normal and real. Interestingly, while I watch the Academy Awards, it seems that all the people behind the camera just look like very normal people as well, I like that. Well, gotta go back to the show and see how many Oscars 'Slumdog Millionaire' can sweep. What a wonderful movie!

Nutty Vanilla Muffins

2009-02-19T14:57:00.012-05:00

This is life, one day it is about death and the other about muffins - the bizarre absurdities of reality. Once I was the queen of muffins and before one could decide what kind they wanted, I already had them done. Never the same and often adventurous, my best sweet muffins were triple chocolate muffins with fresh raspberries, I made them for a picnic in the park while enjoying the Glendale Orchestra and champagne. On the savory spectrum the yummiest is probably the bacon/blue cheese muffin. My children have a new favorite though and I had to make them a few times now: Nutty Vanilla Muffins. Here is the recipe for 24, because I bought this wonderful professional heavy duty muffin pan at the Williams Sonoma outlet.

Mix 2.5 cups of milk, 3 eggs and 1 stick of melted butter and add to a mix of 2 cups whole white wheat flour, 2 cups all purpose flour, 1 cup ground almond, 1/2 cup ground flax seeds, 1 1/2 cups whole hazelnuts, 2 Tbsp baking powder, a good dash of salt, the vanilla of one vanilla bean and 1/2 cup of homemade vanilla sugar*. Don't overmix, fill into (unbleached) muffin papers, about 3/4 full and bake at 375 degrees for about 15 minutes. They are perfect with a vanilla infused black tea, really!

* I have a jar filled with fine sugar and whenever I scrape vanilla out of a vanilla bean, I put the sticks into the sugar and every now and then I fill up the sugar again. I keep this going for years and it makes amazing vanilla sugar. Vanilla extract works well too, but it needs to be mixed with the liquids. Any form of vanilla works, as long as it is real vanilla and not some artificial flavor.

My uncle

2009-02-18T23:34:00.008-05:00

Last week an uncle of mine died. I had not spoken to him in 5 years, since we had a fall out regarding inheritance questions, like many families experience. In the fall, when his bad health was taking a turn to even worse, my mother decided to let bygones be bygones and visited with him. Even though the things of the past were not resolved, it is important she got to see him, as they were very close as children. My mother was just 1.5 years older and felt as his protector. She is holding his hand in the picture below.

My memories of him hark back to my own childhood. He lived with his family upstairs in the house of my grandmother, where I spent a lot of time and consequently upstairs with my cousins. He worked at the local bank, where I sometimes went to visit him and he would take me downstairs and hand me a coke. remember the small greenish glass bottles with the real taste of coke before recipe changes and corn syrup? I liked visiting at the bank, he always had freebies like fantastic ball point pens and all this materials for house and interior design. His workday was like clock work, coming and going precisely and I remember the sound of his steps on the stairs, because his prosthetic leg made a certain noise.

He was not a man of many words, when I would come and visit after having been away at school for a while or maybe a year out of the country, he would mutter something like "ah, back in the area" and that would be it and it would be enough.

My uncle has been quite sick and in and out of the hospital for a while. Strangely, he died on my aunts 60th birthday, as if he decided it was time to go, time for her to care for herself and not him, which she has done for so long. Sometimes it just is time for people to go, knowing it does not make it less sad, but easier to accept. I do not know if I ever would have seen him again anyway, but even so, his death is bringing back little memories of my childhood and reminds me of the deaths of my other uncles and so I do feel some kind of melancholy and sadness. And in a weird way I am sad about having a family in which members are not really emotionally close, where love, loyalty and selflessness are not daily occurences.

"incorrigible negligence" - Bohuslav Martinu

2009-02-15T16:22:00.006-05:00

The Worcester Chamber Music Society gave a wonderful concert at Assumption College in Worcester. It was a very interesting concert with the following program:

Martinu: Trio for Flute, Cello & Piano

Mozart: Piano Concerto No. 13 in C Major
Ravel: Chansons madécasses
Mendelssohn: Octet

I had never heard of Bohuslav Martinu, a Bohemian czech composer, but was enthralled when I heard the trio, a very lovely piece, written in 1944. It is a very melodic neoclassical piece with a hint of modern. Even though I cannot tell why, it did sound very czech to me. My friend and I were reminded - in a roundabout way - of writers like Kafka and Kundera and their wonderful way with words. I never gave that much thought, but of course music and literature have quite a lot in common in the sense that there is melody, rhythm, timing, voices and the likes.

Martinu was born in 1890 in Bohemia in a bell tower - how fascinating. He played with the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra until he left for Paris in 1923. In 1941 he came to the USA. What struck me as most interesting though, that shortly after enrolling at the Prague Conservatory in 1906, he was thrown out for "incorrigible negligence", what ever that actually means for a violinist. Being 16 years old and coming to Prague, maybe he partied to hard and was always late for class? I have no idea and can only guess. He kept on going with independent studies though and persisted. That is a lesson right there.

Valentine's - I can't help myself

2009-02-13T17:58:00.006-05:00

Growing up Valentine's day seemed to be something made up by some association of flower shop owners. When winter was slowly winding down, signs and ads for Valentine's would show up at the florist shops. I remember buying flowers for my mother once or twice. Even as a child I had a dislike for holidays like Valentine's Day or Mother's Day, they seemed contrived and marketing driven. My mother and I would often surprise each other with little tokens of thoughts for the other, a little chocolate, a flower, some licorice, a nice candle - whatever we came across and thought the other would like it. We never needed a special day. How much meaning does it have anyway, when it is mandated by a holiday that comes across as being invented by Hallmark to boost sales. Flowers on Valentine's are obligatory, any normal day of the week, they are much more special in my view. Yes, you guessed it, no red hearts celebration in this household.

That works pretty well until children go to school and have to bring a Valentine for each child. In theory that is actually a nice gesture, children have to learn this somehow, but it turned out to be an exchange of yet-more-candy and ugly little mass-merchandised cards with superheroes and Disney characters, outside of few exceptions. I have a rather difficult time seeing something meaningful in that. So every year, my children had to craft Valentine's cards and put thought and love into it.

Last year I had found marble hearts and had the kids write the names of the kids on them, they were a huge hit and truly nice. So with that precedent, I found myself last night in the store, trying to get something for S to take to class (J had already crafted something a while ago), I absolutely could not get one of those boxes with cards, I was physically unable to pick it up and purchase it. Well, I am a bit of an all-or-nothing person and I can rarely do something that is not up to my standard. So even though I was very tired and had hardly any time left, I had to do something nice. So when I saw the rack with flower seeds, I knew that was what I was looking for. Admitted, it was expensive compared to a box of generic cards and it still needed me to do design, print and assembly, but I loved the outcome. I just cannot make it easy for myself, I just can't. It is worth it though, because I am sure that there are always a handful of children that remember these out of the ordinary Valentine's.

Building a xylophone

2009-02-11T22:00:00.006-05:00

At our elementary school, one of the cool units in third grade is the physics of sound. As part of that unit they have to build an instrument to show that they understand the terms they have learned and they have to demonstrate their instrument. Last year J built a stick fiddle, which never stayed tuned, but was cool otherwise. S decided to build a simple xylophone this year and I found these plans online. They have a lot of plans for home build instruments.

She did all the measuring and cutting of the conduit tubing and the pvc pipe. It is pretty neat to see an eight-year-old girl handle power tools, clamps and a measure like as if she has done it since years. I guess the apple landed pretty close to the tree here. Maybe if I play my cards right, she can become my apprentice and help with the 4 shelves that are on the carpentry to-do-list.

Of course measuring, marking and cutting for the first time, the pitch is not exactly on the mark, but for doing this with very little adult interference, I am amazed at the result. And this is her very first try on the final instrument:

During my search for plans - i.e. length of pipe for pitch - I found this guy who sells plans for building a 3 octave marimba and the children want to build one during April vacation. Since I had always kind of wanted to have one, I blame it on that Orff music education I had, I am easily convinced. This would be a fun project and I could teach some more wood working and the handling of some more power tools (oh yeah!).

The Road by Cormac McCarthy

2009-02-07T23:38:00.002-05:00

I just joined a book group and the book for our next meeting is The Road by Cormac McCarthy. I though I share some of my thoughts.

it is a dark novel in a dismal and disturbing world with difficult images and gritty realism. The story is about a father and his son traveling to the coast set in a post-apocalyptic world devoid of any life but some people, ash and ashen snow. It is not a typical post-apocalyptic book though, the reader is not told any reasons for the state the world is in, we all can imagine many possibilities in today's world. This dark and inhabitable world works as a back drop by reducing everything to the bare minimum, allowing the focus on survival and relationship between father and son.

I did not care for McCarthy's style of writing. Though the sparse punctuation was actually befitting, his prose is a strange mix of minimalism and a constructed style that seems over thought and over worked. I found the incomplete and fragmented sentences very distracting. It made the reading process an arduous one, filled with frustrated rereading and prohibited fluidity and really diving into the story.

The surroundings are well described and felt, and the sounds and visuals are vivid. The dark nights with the terrible frozen cold are interestingly juxtaposed with the movements of the twirling ashes. The people and places though stay undefined on purpose, the reader can gleam a tiny bit of insights into the father's history by his dreams and thoughts, but they are kept to a minimum because it does not matter anymore.

The story line presents itself intentionally repetitive and tedious. It was a bit annoying to me how they always found food on the brink of starvation. Regarding the end it was clear that the father had to die and come to terms with the inability to end the life of his child and instead leave him alone. What I did not care for was this wholesome good family show up and take the son. It was contrived and convenient and it was also sappy and not appropriate in the context of the story. When we lived in California, we often were invited to screenings to see movies before the final editing, to see how people react to the story and if they understand the characters, but mostly to make changes to it to widen its appeal. Resulting is often a supposedly better, but ultimately bad ending (think Pretty Woman) that gets pasted on, never really fitting though.

One of the themes in the book is good vs. bad. The son is good, pure and innocent (yet always scared), the father declares himself as good, but is he? The father slowly turns immoral, putting the survival of his son and himself above helping other people, survival of the fittest. One could argue that in a world like that it would the only way to be, but since everybody is eventually going to die anyway, would that survival above all not be futile?The son is clearly disturbed by the father's inability to see that. Even though father and son categorize the world into good guys and bad guys, the world is not that black and white, it is grey - figuratively and literally - indeed. The question about what is good and what is bad, forces itself out of the book into the readers head. Concerning morality and ethics, do the values from gone civilizations still hold true?

Like any story set in a post apocalyptic world it reminds of what is truly important, leaves one with an uneasy feeling, also confronts us with the truth that what we have might be gone in an instant and the ultimately the only thing that matters and lasts, even outlasts death is love and coupled with love are hope and faith. If anything this book was about love and about hope. The hope carried me through to the end, at which there is nothing, the goal that carries father and son forward does not get rewarded. It is a let down for the protagonists as well as the reader, though I was not excepting anything different. But in the most dire situations it is hope against hope that gives strength to carry on. It is a world with only one certainty: death and that is a parallel to our lives, even though we have food and shelter and families, in the end that is the only certain thing there is and it seems that between the fragments of hope and the knowledge that there are two bullets in the revolver is where this story is relevant to everybody. Ultimately everybody struggles and if there would not be a sliver of hope and/or faith, we could just give up to live. In the book the deep love for his son makes the father keep going. The mother chose the other alternative and killed herself, leaving the father with no other choice as to stay alive and protect his son. Death itself can be a hope though when things are tough and the book shows how that is a dilemma parents are in, because children take that type of hope away. I am not sure I can adequately express my point here.

I liked this book on some levels and really disliked it on others. Obviously I feel ambiguous about this novel, I think it is interesting and is definitely a great book to think and talk about. I have a few doubts though about the importance it has been given. It left me depressed, I did not experience the uplift that a lot of fans had the joy to feel, if anything I was actually disappointed because it did not give me any profound insight or revelation, it offered no interesting new viewpoint and it lacked depth. On the other hand, I have to admit that

Laugh it in the face!

2009-02-05T23:01:00.003-05:00

Since about 1.5 years I have been involved in a sport I now call medical football. In this case, I am the football being tossed between different doctors, specialists, tests and procedures, all while going on a roller coaster ride of medications and side effects and spending way too much time, money and nerves. Now I am no stranger to the medical runaround, but usually I had to take care of one or maybe at the most two problems and even though they were severe, painful and scary at times, it was clear what needed to be focused on. At the moment though, I have to think about nearly a dozen health issues plaguing me and I feel quite overwhelmed. The fact that there are so many things that need to be taken care of in regards to my daughters and their need for counseling, therapy and IEPs, all while house and cars are breaking left and right and the schedule is so tight that I am happy if I have enough time to pack and unpack our bags between everything going on.

The two most important points on my compass are Health and Happiness, since most other points are directly and indirectly related or dependent. It is easy during times of sickness and pain to give up, get angry and lose hope. If anything though, I am clinging to some sort of happiness, even though it is a kind of cynical humor making it possible. A lot of medical nightmares are actually sort of entertaining and funny, because they are so outrageous or absurd. I clearly remember the aftermath of multiple fractures in my left hand and wrist and the time spent in various old hospital hallways waiting for yet another opinion that would not bring me any further. I started writing on any pieces of paper I could find, describing the situations, feelings, people and buildings. It was a great outlet.

Humor is a wonderful thing, without it life would feel bleak. During grad school I took a couple of classes about comedy, satire and the likes and the need of people to look at the most awful through the lens of humor. Incidentally, John Cleese happens to be on PBS at this very moment, talking to a guy in India who meets with people to laugh for 15 minutes a day, just plain old laughing, without really any reason and even that reduces stress. So here's to laughing - ha ha ha!

out of sorts

2009-02-03T22:54:00.003-05:00

I have completely lost my groove recently, I am not sure what it is or why, maybe the winter or maybe a loss of routine? It seems that lately nothing goes planned and something different happens every day. Between things breaking left and right, repeated snow days, constant medical appointments, starting new things and doing things out of the ordinary, it just feels a bit helter skelter at the moment. Being a person who loves to be in control, I sure hate feeling out of sorts. The problem is that as soon as things are a bit our of whack, I loose my handle on the daily stuff and all of a sudden there is way too much laundry or we run out of milk and bread constantly. It is not like there is no time to do the necessary things, but rather that the lack of routine paralyzes me somehow and I find myself playing computer games, actually killing time. Well, maybe it is just the winter blah, which descends upon me every January... Well wait, it is February already..., does that mean winter blahs needs to be over? As much as I love winter, I am so done with it now and I would like some sunshine please!

Good night!

Hot Pepper Jelly

2009-01-28T16:25:00.003-05:00

With yet another snow storm on the way yesterday and the house running on empty in the bread and milk department as always, I decided on an impromptu stop at Whole Foods. Going without a list can be very dangerous... So while picking up this and that in the produce section, especially fresh celery root and a vast collection of mushrooms for Risotto, my eyes fell onto these beautiful hot peppers. I bought a whole selection, hoping I can remember what was what. I had recently read a recipe that used cranberries in a hot pepper jelly instead of pectin (they contain natural pectin) and as it happend, they had wonderful organic cranberries as well.

So when it was time to go to bed, I always get the urge to get productive instead and this is what I did. I diced 3 red bell peppers and 1 green bell pepper and halved and cleaned 3 Serrano, 2 Jalapeno, 4 Habanero and 3 Chile peppers and sliced them really, really fine. I combined that with a pound of cranberries, 4 cups of water and 4 cups of sugar and boiled it. Actually I started with 2 cups of each, but adjusted during the process. I kept this simmering for probably an hour (who keeps track) or more. Next step was the foodmill, which left me with 3 cups of thick, red, hot liquid and 2 cups of hot pepper solids, which I will use to make Salsa. I boiled the liquid for maybe another hour or less until it seemed the right consistency (too liquid, but perfect once cool). I had no recipe and have never made jelly in my life and I was surprised how well this came out, it is sweet and aromatic at first and about a second or two later, wham, it is hot! I did not make this a preserve, it will just sit in the fridge and probably not surviving very long, as DH and I both absolutely love it (with Neufchatel cream cheese on crackers).

My fingers are still peppered and no amount of scrubbing seems to get the pepper off. Every food I touch is instantly hot and I do not recommend rubbing your eyes, ouch.

John Updike

2009-01-27T21:50:00.004-05:00

Today John Updike died at age 77 and that makes me quite sad. Whenever an author dies that I admire, it leaves me feeling unsettled and even though I tell myself that I neither knew them personally nor does this take away from all the great books they have written, this strange feeling of loss stays with me for a while.

I got into Updike back in grad school when a friend suggested the Rabbit books (at that point four, not five) and I devoured them. I am convinced that he is one of the best writers of the 21st century, his lyric craftmanship regarding words is nothing short of magic. Once I start reading it, I cannot stop and I remember reading 'Couples' (1968) in one sitting. I read most of his books translated into German and when I graduated school and finally had enough time to read whatever I wanted, I bought 'Month of Sundays'. I did not make it through the first page, it was way to hard at the time. Interestingly, when we moved to Pennsylvania years later - after a few years in the US - and I was unpacking the books, I stumbled across it and to my surprise had not one issue reading it. It was a very nice moment to be able to bathe in his words so truely.

Just a few days later, we drove to Reading, PA to go shopping in the outlets there. We were driving around and I looked around the town and then I looked up the hill and it hit me like lightning. I yelled out: "This is Rabbit town!" and I did not even know that it was actually true. The atmosphere he had described had been so precisely what I saw there. It just matched up. There were not a lot of moments in my life where literature became so physically real and tangible.

I have not read any Updike lately, but coincidentally just added 'Widows of Eastwick', the follow up to 'Witches of Eastwick' to my to-read-list. In general, I should revisit some of his books as it would be interesting to read them from my changed point of view now that I am smack in the suburban middleclass and middleaged and it is bound to be much more relevant at this point in my life and maybe even a bit more uncomfortable.

Yummy, healthy stir-fry

2009-01-22T19:07:00.006-05:00

It seems that in my kitchen often yummy food is created on days that I am not really in 'cooking-mode', strange, maybe it is due to going with the flow and not analyzing anything or wanting to achieve something particular. So tonight I made up a very flavorful and healthy stir-fry.

I started with a seven grain + sesame pilaf (Kashi), because it takes a while - rice would work equally well. While that was going, I shredded one very big carrot, cut Baby Bella Mushrooms into chunks, chopped some chives and cleaned the undelicious ends of sugar snap peas (1 package). I also took 2 firm, but ripe bananas, halfed and sliced them. When the grains were almost done, I seared 1/2 # of small shrimps in toasted sesame oil. I added the above veggies plus a bag of sprouts and cooked it for just about a minute while stirring. I added about 2 handfuls of shredded, unsweetened coconut and about 3 Tbsp of Tahini and stirred it all before adding the chives and bananas. At last I added the Kashi and gave it one more stir. The idea is that the veggies are just about hot and not very cooked.

Freaking out in a crisis

2009-01-21T23:18:00.003-05:00

One of the things discussed before the election was how cool and focused Obama always appeared and what kind of person should be in the White House: somebody who gets emotional and has a temper or somebody who is cool as cucumber? I think in the face of crisis a cool head is the better bet. Usually I stay pretty calm and level headed when things go wrong and deal with what is dealt to me. For example, I always have been a very focused first aid person and when things go wrong, I am a pretty good go-to-gal and can rationally look at a problem and come up with different ways to solve it. Well, this is usually the case, but sometimes I completely loose the cool and just freak out.

Having my class cancelled last week was a bit of a set back, I do not like set backs, who honestly does anyway, but I just decided to move on. Unfortunately this week started pretty crummy again. On Monday I get the lens for my DSLR back, it has been twice with Tamron, since it refuses to play nice with my Canon. I already knew it was not going to work and I was right, after five minutes it quit working - very annoying, but I called customer service without being angry and arranged to have it sent to them again. A bit later when driving to drop off J on the way to my rehearsal, a whole wheel lying in the road surprised us. Now who just looses a wheel and does not notice? At first we thought we are fine, but a bit further down the road, it was quite clear that now our wheel was busted and we barely made it onto a parking lot. Wow, our wheel was smoking, as was something else. So I called AAA, funny how they ask for your address and I am standing there shrugging my shoulders, trying to make this person in another state understand where I am, while I have enough bars on the cell phone to get a word through every now and then. Anyway, we just sat there in the dark, talking and waiting until DH and S were done with soccer and came to wait with us. We waited in a sports bar and later at night, after dealing with strange tow truck guys, made our way home. I was rather sad to miss rehearsal, but life throws you curve balls like this and so we watched Battlestar Galactica.

So today I am trying to get back into things and to take care of those setbacks like cancelled classes, broken cars etc.. I had ordered a blouse from my favourite designer in Sweden and it finally arrived, unfortunately with strange black stains. So I took some pictures and sat down at the computer to email the pics to Sweden to see what to do about this - and wondering why I am short of luck - and all of a sudden there is this loud noise, like a train derailing and the whole house was vibrating and then there it was, a great gushing noise. I was able to quickly determine that everything seemed fine upstairs, so I went downstairs to discover that the ceiling in the garage had turned into a waterfall. I ran to the closet with the water unit thingie to turn off the water and could not find the lever. That is when the cool evaporated and I started freaking out. The noise of the water gushing was very loud and my adrenaline was pumping, I was crying, upset and felt completely helpless. I ran around like a mad woman, looking at all the water valves we had and none of them did anything. Hysterically I called DH who had no more clues then me and instructed me to call 911. I went back to the closet and this time found the shut off valve. All the valve handles in this house are yellow, so why is this one, in this tiny dark closet, black? The most important one in the house? And why did I not find it in my panic, even though I knew it was there? To be honest, I am still a bit shaken and I am not looking forward to the mess, chaos and costs this will produce in the aftermath. At least DH will get a good workout while charging out crank-flashlights as there is no power in the bedroom, being on the same circuit as the garage and water is dripping from the outlets, yikes.

Sometimes very stupid things happen and this is one of those, instead of closing the garage door we came through, DH opened the other one and a night with both open was enough to freeze a pipe. Oh well, it could have been so much worse. It is upsetting to me though, how I lost my cool and just freaked out. It appears that there are two things that do this, water and fire. I cannot stand it though, being a person that has a strong need to be in control. Strange though how much can go wrong at some times, I wonder if this is some kind of test or is this just fate? And why do I loose my compass when I need it the most urgent?

An emotional Obama Inauguration

2009-01-20T22:35:00.009-05:00

Today has been a very special day today, since we were very happy with the election of Barack Obama and had been looking forward to this day for weeks. When we were in Washington D.C. last October and found the Museum of American History closed, I brought up the idea of coming back when it is opened again and why not do so at the inauguration of - hopefully - Obama. Pretty soon after the election it became quite obvious, that millions of people thought it a good idea as well and so we decided to forgo that plan and make it a special day here in Massachusetts. When we found out that they are going to have a live simulcast at the newly renovated and beautiful Hanover theater in Worcester, we knew we had to go and reserved tickets. The kids had no school anyway and DH took the day off. The T&G has a good picture of the event.

We got to the theater around 10 am and it was filling up fast with people of all ages, even school classes attended. It was a fantastic atmosphere, anytime great politicians like Jimmy Carter, Al Gore or the Clintons would be on the screen, people would cheer and clap. I find myself hard pressed to describe the applause and cheer that went on anytime Barrack or Michelle Obama appeared. This felt like a rock concert. I found myself swept up in all the emotion, it touched me deeply and I could not help and cry tears of joy. All the pomp and circumstance, the glamour, the ceremony, the music, the moving speeches: there is no country that mixes emotion and politics this well. Maybe that is important in a country, where ideals are so important, especially today. Getting good video in a dark theater is about impossible, but the audio does a nice representation as to how it felt like.

The last inauguration I watched was Bill Clinton's in '93 - doped up with Theraflu on the couch - and it was also the last time I was that psyched (Al Gore came to campus and made quite an impression on me). I do not remember to ever have watched anything similar in Germany when we got a new chancellor. After a few hours in the theater, we proceeded to a friends house for an inauguration party and spend the rest of the day talking about the events, politics and life in general. I must have heard his speech numerous times by now and I thought it was a good one and very appropriate. It was in tune with his campaign and what he stood for, he painted a picture of the circumstances we are in, but also showed the ways to deal with them. I especially liked the 'hope and virtue' bit, harking back to Washington;s crossing, the call for sacrifice and the awareness that the world has changed and so we all must change with it.

On a different note, my amaryllis bulb that my mother planted on my birthday for flowering at christmas, took a really long time and on this fine day finally came into bloom. I like how all the leaves bow to Buddha and how big and beautiful the two flower heads stand. I always try to have some concentrated thoughts for somebody while lighting the Buddha's candle and today I lit for Obama. He has a huge and complicated mess to deal with and I wish him and his family godspeed (for the sake of all of us).

Music Wednesday - new beginnings

2009-01-14T23:45:00.005-05:00

Yesterday was a kind of anniversary for me and I thought it would be a very appropriate day to start a new chapter. I enrolled in glass fusing and bead making classes and it was supposed to start last night. Filled with anticipation and excitement, I set off into my new chapter, just to find it 'empty'. When I got to the glass studio, they had a notice at the door, that the Worcester Center for Crafts has decided to close operations until they can figure out how to proceed in this difficult economic climate. So imagine me standing there in front of the door, forlorn in this industrial and deserted area of Worcester on a night cold as ice and having my new beginning just taken away from me - well and the $450. That I was not informed of this ahead of time and offered a refund is so unbelievable, that I couldn't even get angry, I was completely stunned.

Instead, without much planning though, did today turn into the new pages I was looking for. I had my first voice lesson today. It was almost impossible to get any real voice out, I was cold and nervous, but I figure that we all have to start somewhere in order to get somewhere else. Coincidentally, J started with choir today as well. Through some degrees of separation we found this wonderful program in Worcester. She did a small audition and stayed for 2 hours of rehearsal. I think she will enjoy it tremendously, of course it is a big beginning for her and not easy, she is quite shy and does not know anybody. It is interesting that we are setting out onto this journey of singing together, it is rather neat actually. And both of us found out today, that we have a very large range between the lowest and the highest note.

The last months have felt cluttered and unfocused, I did not experience the degree of control that I need to feel good and it was/is a bit overwhelming. I had felt such direction in summer and was very driven and then it slipped away somehow. In the last weeks though, it seems like things are back on track, furthermore, it feels like it becomes clear where we as a family like to lay focus. Music is definitely turning into a very important force in out lives. When kids are little, there are so many different things they try and now we are getting to an age, where they find their niches and interests and can delve deeper. We concentrate on our own individual things, but all of us focus on music as well.

I always envisioned myself with a large family all making music together. I did not get that large family, but maybe I can get the making music part. At least the compass is set.

It was twenty years ago today...

2009-01-13T23:49:00.005-05:00

The most logical assumption would be that I am referring to St. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, but I am actually not. Twenty years ago today was a point at which my life changed forever. It was Friday the 13th and I was on embarking on a journey bigger than ever before. I had worked for a family with 3 children for many years, being nanny, tutor and everything in-between until they moved from Hamburg, Germany to Concord, MA. Their farewell party invitation was my first paid graphic design job (and it was paid well). So they needed some nanny help over there in New England and asked me to come flying.

So I found myself on the morning of Friday the 13th 1989 at the airport with no less than a dozen of friends to get me safely to my first airborne adventure.* To be really honest, I had no desire to see and experience the USA, I was in love with Great Britain and that is where me and all my friends wanted to live. Consequently they all did, but I overshot by a 'few' miles. My concept of this country was quite set, I had a very prejudiced view of America, mostly through the media. It is almost impossible for me to recall how I pictured this country, but plastic, bold colors, superficialities, violence, noise, inequality and ruthlessness come to mind. I had been a very politically active teenager in the middle of the Reagan years, with cold war, SDI and cruise missiles being something to demonstrate against. I accepted the job offer anyway. I liked being part of that (slightly dysfunctional) family again and because in all fairness, I thought I should at least get my prejudices validated first hand. Last but not least, curious me was interested in visiting NYC, after all, everybody said that was something in itself and not part of the country really.

It took about three weeks for me to completely fall in love with Concord, Boston, the Transcendentalists and the beautiful landscape. I lost my perfect british accent - yes really - and came to think that this country was made of milk and honey. One could say that I went from one extreme to the other. Blame it on Concord, how was I supposed to know that not all people live like that, take the Daimler to the Ritz for lunch and have front row seats for every concert at the Symphony? The day I landed at Logan in Boston seems so long ago and yet is still so present in my mind. For sure I learned that preconceived notions and first impressions are not to be believed, that everything has more than one side to it and that we can like and dislike something at the same time. It made clear that the truth is often somewhere in the middle.

That Friday the 13th 1989 changed my life, whether I wanted it or not. Even though it is a mute point, I do think about how I came to be here, so far from home and to some extent I do regret having chosen this path. I am a person who clings too much to the past and ponders alternate roads of life - a complete waste of time - and so this day today is filled with very mixed feelings, kind of like a celebratory and melancholy confusion. I don't even know why I have to think so much about it, I might as well try to find the meaning of life and that is probably something I cannot see from my little vantage point.

It is, what it is. I came to Massachusetts 20 years ago today!

* When I returned, not one person was waiting for me. Every single person thought that there will be so many people anyway, it would make no difference whether they show up or not.

Maroccan Turkey Tangine

2009-01-12T22:44:00.009-05:00

A wonderful dish with north African flavors for the crock pot. This is very easy to prepare ahead of time and by adjusting the temperature of the crock pot, it can be timed any way it is needed. If guests are coming and it is a very busy day, this recipe is ideal and fills the house with wonderful aroma of the spices.

Cut 2 onions into wedges and slice 2-4 cloves or garlic really thin, I use a truffle slicer. Cook those in olive oil for a few minutes, let the onions pick up some color. Meanwhile cube about 2# of turkey and toss it in flour seasoned with salt and pepper. Add the turkey to the pot with the onions and garlic and sear. Add 1-2 sticks of cinnamon, 2 tsp ground coriander and 2 tsp ground cumin, (best to grind them fresh just before since it gives so much more flavor) and 3-5 carrots sliced. Cook for a few minutes. Add 2.5 cups broth (Better than Boullion Organic Chicken is the best!) and a small can of tomato sauce. Bring to a boil and add 1 cup of chopped dried, but moist apricots. Cook in the crock pot for 2-3 hours, then add 2 small cans of chickpeas and cook for another 1-2 hours. Some freshly chopped parsley and ready it is.

I serve this with whole wheat couscous, which is probably the most effortless dish ever. I also like to have whole wheat pita bread, a yogurt-cucumber-dill sauce, some fresh fruit and veggies, maybe a nice arugula salad and fresh bread. Black olive hummus with pita chips as well as stuffed grape leaves (think rice, feta, golden raisins and pine nuts) make a nice appetizer for this meal. I definitely like wine with this and go with one of my favourite Casablanca quotes:

"Captain Renault: What in heaven's name brought you to Casablanca?

Rick: My health. I came to Casablanca for the waters.

Captain Renault: The waters? What waters? We're in the desert.

Rick: I was misinformed."

athletic body vs. athletic mind

2009-01-09T23:52:00.003-05:00

Yesterday my daughter had a collision with a basketball and lost. Not catching it right, the ball jammed her fingers quite badly. Not having improved overnight, we set off to the hospital to have it x-rayed this morning. Luckily there was no fracture. Having to deal with injuries is of course second nature to me due to my own childhood spent with uncountable amounts of injuries. I am a pro taking care of it.

An interesting thought came to my while driving about that never occurred to me before. I have always thought about people being either athletic or not with variations in-between. J was given the perfect body for sports and the energy too, so how come that she does not care for it that much and can not excel? A few years ago she did Ballet. She was amazingly talented, but could not bring the needed focus. She already hated gym in second grade and dreaded the day it was in the schedule, complaining about being the slowest in the whole class. All this time I thought that if she would put her mind to it, she could be extraordinary at swimming or dancing, gymnastics or tennis. And that is exactly that, if she would/could put her mind to it.

All of a sudden it was clear to me, she has a athletic body, but she does not have an athletic mind. This took me so many years to see the obvious, even though I saw all the puzzle pieces. Now I am the exact opposite, I have never looked athletic, but I always have been. I have an athletic mind, I have the drive, the need and a very competitive streak. Unfortunately my mother - having neither athletic mind nor body - never allowed me to do any organized sports, but I roller skated, played soccer and biked every single day. When I was older and made enough money, I was doing so much and so many sports, some days I had to run from one training session to the next. The strange thing about this is, that it appears to be easier to overcome the not athletic body, if the mind really wants it, even if it is really hard. On the other hand, the best talent and physical prerequisite mean little, if the focus and determination are missing.

I have always envied people that have both, athletic body and mind, wished to be like that as well and thought - falsely - that if I put enough force into it, I could get there. But today I see that we might not be perfect athletes (unlike S), for opposite reasons, but we are creative, artistic and sociable. And so I will go on pushing my body where it does not want to go and also be more forgiving to J, who would just rather drape her athletic body over some pillows to devour kid lit.

A quote on Wednesday

2009-01-07T22:58:00.014-05:00

The groundwork for all happiness is good health.

- Leigh Hunt

I don't know enough about Leigh Hunt - well actually I know almost nothing about him - to say whether this was born out of a day like I am having today, when life is just so hard and happiness quite unattainable due to lack of health. I have health issues that have been mounting since years and the more I tackle them, the worse it seems to get on the long run. I had planned to write about something specific today, but was in too much pain to actually sit down and think and try to work through that uncomfortable distraction. In the afternoon I finally gave up and surrendered to the powers of Vicodin and Valium, which slowly eased the pain into the background, just to replace it with such woozy dizziness that made my senses over react and my heart race.

So a no go on the writing front as on the happiness front...

It bothers me though to just call it a day now, I almost feel as if I will curse my blogging efforts if I don't write today and that it will turn into days, weeks and month again. It appears that every night, in the last hour of the day, when everybody is deep asleep, even the cats, and it is so quiet that I can hear the kitchen clock ticking in the other room, I get this overwhelming urge to add to my blog, after all this day only comes but once. Maybe it is just this inbred need fueled by a lingering protestant work ethic? There is a nice sense of accomplishment in clicking on the 'publish post' button and even though it does not take any pain away, at least it gives a small, tiny moment of happiness.

Well, I have a huge collection of quotes and I can always dive into that treasure, pull something out and reflect on it. Or not, like tonight.

P.S. He looks quite lovely I think, reminds me of a young James Stewart.

conclusion: epiphany (epiphanias)

2009-01-06T23:28:00.012-05:00

So here we are, the last night of Christmas. It makes me always a bit sad to let go of Advent and Christmas and at the same time, I do like the purity of the next phase, the clarity that follows. Epiphany or Three Kings Day on January 6th is such an interesting day and celebrated differently in every country or even every state within a country for that matter. January 6th is celebrated as the day the three wise men from Persia came to Bethlehem. Being away from 'home' leads me to cling to some traditions a bit more tightly and that is not an easy task. When we lived in Pennsylvania - next to Bethlehem as a matter of fact - it seemed that everybody was done with Christmas on December 26th "and out with the tree". It was a tad disconcerting for me, thinking that it was just the second day of Christmas and surely, people should know by that old song about the 12 days of Christmas?

This is a lovely triptych painting by Hieronymus Bosch from 1495. There are some interesting details to look at and explanations here. I love the paintings of Bosch, they are so intriguing. Just this year I could not get my eyes away from his rendition of hell exhibited in the Doge's palace in Venice. A close look reveals the well known strangeness one finds in his art, all these little weired details, like who is the more or less naked guy inside the stable? Why does Jerusalem look so futuristic, even today? And isn't it wicked funny how he loved to have dutch windmills incorporated? It all seems so bizarre and almost absurd, which is probably why I like it so much. But back to Epiphany...

As a child growing up in the protestant north of Germany, I knew about the Three Kings or Three Wise Men, after all, it was an essential part of every nativity scene and usually the most royal. I suppose this is a misinterpretation in a way, but then again, maybe one could argue about wisdom being the most rich to aspire to? I digress. When I moved to Bavaria, this day was a holiday, they have so many down there, it is incredible. I liked it being a holiday, which also means that stores are closed and it is quiet and peaceful, an appropriate ending for the Christmas season. A day to fully enjoy and to contemplate what lies ahead while burning frankincense and myrrh and lighting candles. My mother told me yesterday that it would be bad luck to have any christmas cookies left after this day, but I decided not to hop into that superstitious trap and indulge. Weired superstitions I grew up with would definitely be an interesting blog topic :)

One of the nicest customs is the 'Sternsingen' (Star-singing) where children, traditionally boys in costumes of the wise men go from door to door in their community, sing for people or recite poems, get sweets in return or nowadays collect money for charity . Afterwards they proceed to ask for the household being blessed and leave chalk markings on the door. The markings this year would be 20*C+M+B+09. The C, M and B are for Caspar, Melchior and Balthazar (the kings were named in the eighth century), the star is for the star of Bethlehem and the crosses symbolize the father, the son and the holy spirit.

Music = Mediation?

2009-01-05T23:16:00.003-05:00

Last month I was talking to a friend overseas and she expressed how wonderful she thought it was that I was singing, she told me that the brain waves during singing can be compared to meditation. Certainly I can attest to the effect that singing has on my psyche, I feel tremendously different after rehearsals. Mondays are stressful days in this family and I barely have anything left inside me to go and sing. 30 minutes in the car by myself and with inspiring music and I already feel a bit better. But after rehearsals I feel elated, at peace, a content happiness. During grad school I would bike home late at night after rehearsals, being so filled to the brim with musical experience, that I had to sing out loud all the way home and damn the mosquitoes that flew into my mouth!

Music in general has a dramatic impact on my mood and behavior, I have noticed that decades ago and certain music, for example Baroque music, would somehow make me be a better me. On the other hand aggressive or very depressive music could have the exact opposite effect. A few years back I started to have music like Telemann or Bach in the background and the kids were more peaceful those days, were picking less fights and just seemed more together. My husband on the other hands likes to have very high energy crazy and wild jazz on and it drives me nuts. I like that kind of music, but I like it with nothing else, in a club or sitting down and listen to it intently, in the background, it drives me over the edge, while his hyperactive brain probably is in tune with it.

I had set out tonight to find some articles about the brain while singing and the equation of singing and meditation, but that was more difficult than anticipated, mostly because I only found information about Tibetan singing meditation bowls, an interesting subject, but not what I was interested in - even though it seems logically connected. I did find a lot of very lengthy articles about the brain on music/singing, the whole dispute regarding the Mozart effect, medicine and music and so forth. I neatly bookmarked them, for a later day to read as this requires some more in-depth research. One thing is absolutely clear, singing changes the brain and it changes it for the better and for me it is a fantastic antidepressant. And just between us, sometimes when I think I cannot take my life anymore, I think of all that music I would not experience, not getting to know or not listen to again, if I would not be alive.

Music is so wonderful, wouldn't it be amazing if we could plant it into the natural world? Paul Winter recorded amazing music while on a trip down the Grand Canyon and it is so breathtaking and pure, and displays such dynamics and harmony between the natural surroundings and the music, especially the drums (that make you think your speakers are broken), the french horn and of course the soprano sax. Imagine taking a chorus to Purgatory Chasm and singing out there between the rocks? That would be such an experience.

tweens and gigabytes

2009-01-02T22:59:00.006-05:00

It is programmed, as soon as a girl hits puberty, the telephone becomes a lifeline and constant contact to friends a necessity. They can spend hours just hanging out on speaker phone. I remember watching whole movies on TV with my friend on the phone. I wonder a bit in retrospect, why exactly did my best friend and I spend 3 hours on the phone, if we spend virtually any moment together anyway? We met on the way to school, spent the day there (or not :) ) and then hung out in the afternoon, had dinner at one of the houses and very often slept over at each others houses. There is probably a closeness that one can never achieve with anybody again, this melting together of two lives. I can still remember our long lasting giggle fits as if they were yesterday, usually unprovoked and out of nowhere. Once we laughed so hard we broke down and sat down on the sidewalk of the busiest shopping street in our home town (imagine 5th ave in NYC) and holding our midsection in pain, tears streaming down our faces and people coming to our aid, worried we are victims of nerve gas assault or extreme food poisoning.

The next biggest thing was music and my tween seems to follow me right there. Today she received her iPod, she had saved enough money to buy a refurbished nano and I had to do the FedEx tracking constantly for about a week :). So she asked me to throw music onto it and her wishes were Beatles and ABBA. The fantastic thing about that is, that those two were my first big loves of pop music. So much for sameness (if that is a word actually), enter the difference: the digital age. Where I had records and needles, she has this tiny thing, not much bigger than a credit card and it can play 2000 songs or show a movie - bizarre. Both parental units have video iPods and they are huge next to that.

Selecting it though came with one interesting conundrum, the question: "what are gigabytes?". I was in 11th grade when I got introduced to the binary system, computers and all that comes with it. I understood it fast and within weeks I was teaching programming to my math class, since the teacher was absent every week for jury duty. But how do you explain it to a 4th grader who recently decided she hates math (she is about 250 hours behind on practicing math facts)? So we headed to our big black board - it is green - and attempted to explain the binary system, bits, bytes, megabytes and gigabytes, and we failed. So we proceeded to have our own discussion about a multi terabyte NAS RAID* for our house and lost them all together.

My daughter might have reached puberty, lives on the phone and walks around with a digital camera and an iPod, but she still comes to me for explanation and instruction. I will bask in my superiority regarding the digital life, knowing full well how short lived it will be and that there will be a time, when the tables are turned.

* Network Attached Storage - Redundant Array of Independent Disks

Fast Forward to Beginning

2009-01-01T23:03:00.004-05:00

I chose this oxymoron on purpose: a new year is here, how did that happen so fast? It is painfully apparent that blogging has been non existent. I was unable to keep my daily juggling act in proper order, since two more units were thrown into the sequence and it all fell apart. My mother came for a long and enjoyable stay and I have been sick, sick, sick ~ and frankly I am sick of that. The sad thing is, that as soon as life is going out of order, the things that are important just for and to oneself are the first being thrown onto a back burner. I had really started to enjoy writing, even knowing that maybe nobody actually reads it.

So here we are on the first night of the new year and I just wanted to check my email before getting comfortable in bed and proceeding with 'Marley & Me' - a very enjoyable read. And then it occurred to me that this new day in this new year is a perfect opportunity to tempt the blogosphere again, because it feels different this year. I have to explain this.

Since being a child I have not been particularly fond of New Year's for several reasons. I loved parties and I loved fireworks, so that is the perfect combination to love those festivities, but when I was a little girl, I had to sleep while the adults partied and conveniently forgot to get me at midnight for the fireworks. Parties were unusual though for that night as my mother always had the blues at the turning point of the years. Staying at my grandmother was not what I would define as a fun evening either, she did not care to celebrate the new year and just went to bed after eating the obligatory New Year's eve jelly donut. I remember being seven years old and being strapped into a body brace to correct a badly jointed fracture and my grandmother refused to come and get me out so I can see some fireworks.

Other midnight celebrations would have my uncle trying to scare the living daylights out of me with extremely loud but not the least visually pleasing fireworks. And then there was the year I was standing with probably about one thousand people looking at fireworks and my disposition to be singled out shone when I was the only one getting hit by a rocket (which thankfully had mostly burned off).

My relationship to a new year has rarely been friendly, usually I hate the beginning of the year, as it is so new, blank, has no character, I miss the old year and dislike the transition. And this year, this transition, how does that feel? That is the strange thing, it feels so different and I am looking forward to this new year, I am happy it is blank and new. It appears like this big white freshly stretched canvas, waiting to be painted in all sorts of colors or maybe even just a few. I feel that this year will bring good things and will let me grow into directions that I could not before and that the past year, that have not been that good, are the roots for something good to come. It feels like I am pushing through some darkness and I still have some pushing to do, but that there is going to be a light waiting for me - not by a miracle, but by me making sure that there will be and creating opportunity for such light.

Happy New Year!

The joy of harvest

2008-11-06T09:19:00.005-05:00

Even though the greatest joy in life is to love and be loved in return, there is something extremely fulfilling about harvesting, especially if it involves apples, the best fruit in the world by far. Have you ever noticed how much 'real estate' in a produce aisle is devoted to apples? Because they are the most versatile of any fruit and so delicious - well, unless they are called delicious :). The apple tree in the picture is at Red Apple Farms, a fantastic old farm that is a good hour away, but worth every minute of traveling there.

I used to have reservations regarding fruit picking. As a child I was forced to go into the woods with my mother to find mushrooms and pick blueberries. The mushrooms were completely camouflaged and avoided detection and the blueberries were so tiny, growing on low scraggly bushes, in short I hated those excursions as a kid. Then a few years back, me and the girls met some other family for blueberry picking at one of the local farms and I became instantly addicted to picking fruits.

There are few things as satisfying as harvesting and I think that is due to it being literally satisfying, satisfying the need for sustenance that is. Gathering something as essential to life as nourishment is a task so basic, that it appeals to something deep within us. I find the same holds true to tasks like chopping wood for example. When I was in grad school, my room was heated with a little wood/coal stove and bizarre as it sounds, I liked going into the basement and chopping wood and filling the coal bucket, since it related to something essential for my survival: heat. In our complex and modern lives is very little space for basic tasks, we are all accustomed to comfortable convenience. When visiting old farms like Artemas Ward's farm, most visitor have the same reaction: so much work! But I find that I yearn for such simplicity, where there is a lot of work, but the work is all related to one's own life and survival. I absolutely love the idea of growing trees for cutting down the wood to make furniture, or have sheep for wool to make sweaters and socks, grow flax for spinning linen thread and weaving it into fabric and dying it with plant material.

Oh well, this makes me think of Tasha Tudor again, I am sure she would understand exactly what I am trying to say. Alas, since I live in this crazy, modern world, outings like apple picking have to satisfy my need for 'basic'.

Breathe

2008-11-03T13:11:00.007-05:00

When we first met, I did not have enough money to bring this Buddha home, even though at first sight I knew he was supposed to end up in my company. A year later I could not find him - probably because I was looking for him - and then another year passed. To my delight, while not looking for him, I stumbled across him literally, since he was on the floor and quite dirty. I was very happy to take him to my home, where he had a spot waiting for him.

My husband did not quite get it at first, but when I told him that the presence was enough to give me joy every time my gaze fell upon that peaceful face, he understood (or was smart enough to just shut up). As I am in the phase of work till you drop from exhaustion and sleep deprivation, I easily get frustrated, angry, stressed and loose oversight. But one moment in his presence and my breath slows down and my happiness factor goes up. He might be made of clay, but there is more to him than molecules. I call him Siddhartha, which might be blatantly wrong, after one of my favourite books of one of my favourite authors (Hesse). After the purchasem it was quite fun taking him on all the errands we had to run. I am sure that people passing the car thought we are completely nuts. Maybe so, but at least happy!

Quote on Thursday

2008-10-30T18:19:00.004-04:00

"Basing our happiness on our ability to control everything is futile."

Stephen Covey

When looking at my bookshelves, one can find a section of books about time management, theories about happiness, advice on how to live and the sort. I enjoy some of them, dislike most of them as they usually try to tell the reader a simple recipe to follow and then everything will fall in place and the reader will turn into the happiest, wealthiest, most popular, successful and healthy chap on the block. Yeah - life is that simple, right? The first book I have ever read of this type (a very American thing) was "fit for life" but it did not solve any of my problems. Anyway, once in a while there is a really good book though. 2 years ago I was giving a talk and workshop on finding your true passion and learning who you really are. One of the books I used in my preparation was Stephen Covey's "The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People: Powerful Lessons in Personal Change" and I was surprised how much I liked it and the approach that was so easily transferred to the different aspects of life.

So why did I pick this quote? Because lately it feels like I have so little control over things and it is driving me a little nuts. I do not like to live my life reactive, but sometimes we have to and this quote reminds me not make my happiness dependent on how much I can control. On the other hand there are areas we can attempt to control and I have been bad at my time management. One major reason being that my brain is not working as properly as it used to. I used to never forget anything and calendars where a cute accessory, not a necessity. Lately I have forgotten some important appointments - today I forgot to pick up my friends son from preschool and that is awful.

I have been a bit defiant about really putting a good time management system to work for me and today I finally succumb to it. I will not rely on my brain powers alone, there is something to be said for a place to write down everything. I tried Filofax for a while and it never worked, there was not enough freedom for me and enough space to write a lot. I tried Apple's iCal and though it is not bad, it is not enough and it stays on my computer - it could come with me if I had an iPhone, but I refuse to pay for those ridiculous monthly fees at AT&T. I like Covey's system, but there are no designs I like in the size I like. The big size is boring looking for business men and the cool looking pages are for women and their tiny purses - hello, that is not me! Can a woman not have a big planner? So I have decided to make my own system with Levenger, that way I can design it myself and make it suit my weired life.

Here is to my hope of managing time, anticipating curve balls and accepting that there is not much in life I can truly control! With the quote chosen, I could have written a multitude of blog entries, like how children do not behave the way we envision they should, how our neighbors might not vote the way we like, how other people cut us off or ... The topic does not matter, as long as we can see that happiness resides inside of ourselves and not in controlling external issues.

Splitting one self into millions of pieces

2008-10-29T10:47:00.003-04:00

So, apparently I am not blogging much. Not that I have nothing to say, believe me, I have always plenty to say and talk about. Also no shortage of interesting topics lately, but a very urgent shortage of time. Fall is always like this and I cannot stand that I have no time to enjoy the leafs slowly drifting to the ground, the low sun with it's golden light, the slight chill. I have not decorated for Halloween in years, because I am so short on time. This is the problem: I am splitting myself into millions of pieces. Or one could say I have way to many roles to play and there is hardly any space left on the stage for just 'me'.

So within the last 4 weeks I have been (in no particular order) mother, daughter, parent, wife, chef, travel agent, interior designer, television producer, school council member, friend, customer, political activist, small business owner, sales clerk, party organizer, photographer, camera (wo)man, maid, apple picker, queen of directions, chauffeur, present purchaser, secretary, volunteer, teacher, carpenter, craft organizer, researcher.... I am sure there is actually more, but completeness is not a necessity.

A lot of these roles are chosen, but some choices are not always free and in some way a 'must' in order to fulfill these roles to the standard I have chosen or because I see them as a kind of civic duty. But outside of singing in the chorus, which is so wonderful, there is no time to read a novel, do a craft that is for me and not for my business, to just sit and dream (if I try I usually fall asleep). A lot of these roles are work and a lot of these roles are fun and gratifying, most are all of that. I think the issue is finding a balance, because it is important for feeling content. Writing this blog had become a very important 'me' thing and having missed it for a month - it is almost hurting somewhere in my soul, for a lack of expressing this better.

So where and how do we cut to make more balance? I am no shortcut person at all, so this is not coming natural to me. In the past forty something years, I just sacrificed sleep and that is becoming increasingly hard to do for longer than a week. Where five hours used to be plenty, I do need six to seven hours now. New ways are needed and I might have to come up with a plan, if I find the time to think :) We will see.

Peace to you all and all the roles you play.

Quote on Wednesday

2008-09-24T09:36:00.002-04:00

Begin it Now

Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans:

That the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too.

All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favour all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way.

Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it.

Boldness has Genius, Power and Magic in it.

Begin it now.

- Goethe

Mom interrupted

2008-09-20T08:34:00.007-04:00

So, something must be in the air. First J has some friends here for a sleep over and they go outside to rollerblade, they do not heed my advice regarding the importance of wrist guards (from my experience) and it results in poor little A breaking her Ulna and her Radius. The actual event was actually less of an interruption than the feeling guilty somebody got hurt at our house, while in our care.

Fast forward 2 days and we have the next candidate for emergency procedures. Apparently our cat Mika had a bad infection inside her leg for a while, just never showed any signs of it until it was horribly bad and needed surgery. So this poor cat is limping about and has a tube inserted into her leg and a cone around her head. Now I am lucky my husband is the animal handler in the house and he takes her to the vet and gives her the medicine (an extremely difficult undertaking). I got burnt out handling sick animals when we got them as very sick babies last year and I spent many hours a day for many weeks dealing with that. Now I take care of the peripheral actions, like trying to clean bedsheets, he put the dripping cat on or taking care of spots the cat mistook for a litterbox. So I banned the cat to the downstairs where, guess what, I am working into the whee hours of the morning, or at least attempting it, since attention starved Mika wants me to just spend time giving her TLC and have you ever noticed how a little cat can be so incredibly and understandibly demanding? She keeps on trying to nudge me with her head, resulting in actually just bumping into me with her cone. That is as funny as sad, but was not really welcome, since I already had to divide my attention between my hands on the project and my eyes and heart glued to the TV screen to catch every glimpse of Colin Firth in a late showing of Bridget Jones 2.

I am experienced dealing with interruptions, for years I was prepared to be ready in a seconds notice to run S to the ER with either Croup or horrible head wounds. Oh and then there was the time my husband broke his neck. I think I can handle these unforeseen events pretty well, after all, I had training myself throughout my whole childhood, being so very accident prone. What I do not like though, is this looming feeling of impending disasters that could possibly strike any moment, because I have other interruptions to deal with, like loosing my 160 G external hard drive, meetings that expand from 1 to 4 hours, last minute play dates that require shuttling kids back and forth or last minute school assignments. Or of course, getting caught up in blogging on Saturday morning.

Battle the Frazzle with list making

2008-09-18T23:48:00.004-04:00

Somewhere I read just a while ago something along the line of: "Stop making lists and start life." I think I understand what it is meant to say, expressing that if we are too focused on listing our goals and wants, we are not working on actually achieving them. At the same time, I am an avid list writer, always was and so is my mother. The difference here is probably in the type of list, condemning a list of goals, but surely not a to do list?

The past few weeks things are starting again to go crazy with me trying to juggle working, family, volunteering, friends, exercise, music and writing. I tried juggling one summer, I think it was in '88, and I gave up relatively soon. I am not good at juggling, may it be balls or different aspects of my life. In the past days I have been getting so frazzled, that I started getting into a hysterical panic and started thinking I should just stop Everything instead of trying to do Everything. I think I was actually whining - urgh - and started listing the 200 things that need to be done outside of work and family to my husband. He told me to just write it all on a list to get it our of my head and get to it later. Now that is exactly the advice I would give somebody and usually I do exactly that. When I get frustrated though and desperation is set in motion through too much stress and too little rest, I can get lost.

I think making lists is a wonderful thing, it organizes our thoughts and it takes pressure of a mind already over burdened. But, often I find that even though I try to put things out of the head and on the paper, I did not transfer them, but merely made a copy and now I have it in the back of my head and on paper as well, just to remind me in case I manage not to think about all the things to be done. So in order for the lists to be more effective, I am trying to link my items with time planning. What that means is for example, that in order to get ready for my show next week, I only do the most necessary things outside of it, like homework and dinner, but keep the rest for later. The week after my show, I will concentrate on fixing up the guest room, as my mother is coming to visit. The following week will be getting ready for a trip to D.C. and so forth.

I think what I am trying to achieve is a list that I know will actually really be done and is not a conglomerate of lofty goals and vague ideas. Though they have their place somewhere too. There probably should be a multitude of lists and maybe a list to keep track of the lists? Well, I am not anal enough for that. When I worked at Tanner Research in California, we had to keep track of every 15 minutes of our time and we had to write weekly reports about what we did that week and which goals we achieved and what our short term and long term goals and plan for the following week are. At times it was annoying, since it was meta work and did nothing for the project to be done, but it kept things nice and organized. I think I need to apply some of the things I have read. I like some ideas of Covey from the 'seven habits' and Randy Pausch had some interesting ideas in his time management lecture.

Well, enough musing about lists, time to make some :)

“One of the secrets of getting more done is to make a TO DO List every day, keep it visible, and use it as a guide to action as you go through the day.” Jean de La Fontaine

Cooking inspired by literature

2008-09-15T23:08:00.011-04:00

I had a really boring dinner planned for Thursday, just rice and soycutash. My back was hurting and that usually kills the motivation for grocery shopping and cooking alike. While I was soaking in the tub, trying to numb the back pain with excessive heat, I started reading 'The Toss of a lemon' by Padma Viswanathan. Slowly some kind of atmosphere of India grew inside me and by the time I made it to the kitchen to prepare dinner, it could no longer be boring, it had to be indian inspired. So here is what I did.

I started some brown Jasmin rice in the rice cooker. I added ground cloves and coriander, ginger, cumin, salt, golden raisins and butter to it. When the rice was getting closer to being done, I took my wok and heated up some Ghee (clarified butter), added some Panch Puran, dillseeds and diced onions. When the onions where nice and soft, I added frozen soycutash (soybeans, corn and red pepper) and unsweetened coconut and salt. When I considered it done, I added just a bit of cream to bind it a bit.

Since the kids like fresh veggies with dinner, I cut up carrots and celery and made a dip from cream cheese, milk, curry, onion, ginger and mustard powder. The rice got a sprinkling of sliced almonds and we also had European style yogurt and Tamarind chutney to perfect the taste. As a treat we had sugar coated fennel seeds, of course, because we all love them. I am lucky to have a good Indian supermarket in town.

And so, just because the book inspired me, we had wonderful - yet super easy - dinner that lasted well over an hour filled with conversation.

2008-09-13T16:07:00.000-04:00

Who has the time for more than 2 blogs? Certainly not me and so this will sit idle, at least for a while.

If you want to read my posts, check out the cardinal compass or maybe the blog about my own little company Raventree-Studio.

I wish I could just write, really and I keep falling into the same old traps that take all my time. If my day could just have 72 hours - 48 of which the world stands still and I am all alone, quiet, peaceful with time to think, read and write!

Giving children independence and freedom

2008-09-12T23:12:00.007-04:00

This week marked a big step in my daughters life. This was the first week they were allowed to walk home alone from school. They are 8 and almost 10 and I thought the moment was right. They are good about traffic safety, they know about strangers and they walk the first part with a group of moms and kids. If we cannot give our children responsibility and trust them, how are they supposed to become self reliant and feel good about themselves? And that they did, the big smiles they wear when they come through the door after school speaks volumes. Doing things on their own makes them happy, independence makes them happy.

Earlier this year a NY mom gave her 9 year old a Metro Card, $20, some quarters and a subway map and let him find his way home from Bloomingdales. As she describes in her column, he was "ecstatic with independence". And then it took a life on its own, as far as asking whether she is America's worst mom, you can read about the reactions here.

I applaud her. People often make the point that times have changed, but I do not believe that to be true, statistically it appears to be actually safer. The chance for kids to be abducted is as small as being hit by lightning and think about it, the majority of those abductions are relatives anyway. What has changed is the media coverage and we hear about every little thing happening in the western world and that makes us think that this is an imminent danger out children are in. Our society lives in an atmosphere of fear and as parents we are overly worried about our children. When I compare my childhood to the ones of my children, I am bewildered how different it is. Today, life is packed full of programs and time is micromanaged. Unstructured time is an anomaly and fun is drowned in classes and learning, turning kids into stressed, pressured and worried little adults. Meeting other kids is facilitated through organized play dates, children do not just meet their friends at the park and instead of biking they get shuttled around in comfortable vans while watching videos.

When I was my kid's age life was free, there was time, there was boredom to spark creativity and there was the great outdoors, even in the middle of a big city. Yes, there was danger; I had my run ins with sexual predators and strangers that lured me with candy, but I had been warned, I had instructions how to deal with the situation and that is what I did. I had no kind of damage from that, instead it made me feel safer, because I knew how to handle it. I had a lot of freedom growing up, but I also had responsibility and my mother trusted me and I never wanted to betray that trust. Trust is something that needs to be earned and I want to give my girls the opportunity to do exactly that. In the end parents need to also trust themselves, trust that they raised their children to make the right decisions. I admit that I was very self reliant at an extremely young age because of the circumstances my mom and I lived in, but I prefer that over the other extreme. I have met girls at the end of high school still completely parent managed, that I have to question how they can find their own way at all, never having had the chance of their own road. If kids have no freedom, they lack freedom of making their own choices. Without their own choices, they cannot make mistakes and those are important to learn, to become competent and successful. Parents who try to keep mistakes away from children, keep experiences away from them and hinder self development.

It is not always easy to let go and to give up control and I do have a tiny slight worry while they are on their way (literally and figuratively), but I have to trust them.

Lentil Soup

2008-09-08T22:36:00.001-04:00

Even though it is not here, the enjoyable absence of humidity and the clear air leads to feelings of fall. Couple that with soup and we have heavenly bliss - after all, it is Monday and that is declared soup day.

Since I have not made it for a while, it was time for boring looking, but delicious tasting lentil soup. Lentils are protein packed health food and we love them. A while back I had read about french lentils, also calles green or Puy lentils. They are supposed to be the finest lentils around, with a rich taste. They were originally grown in Puy (France) on volcanic soil, hence the name. So when I saw them at Whole Foods, I thought I should give them a try. The soup turned out good, but I don't think it is necessary to use french lentils for it, after all, they are more expensive and harder to come by and it does not make such a big difference in soup or stew. Because they stay firm after cooking, they make great lentils for salads or appetizers. I will have to try that soon.

Recipe for Lentil Soup:

I cut up 1/3 lb of bacon and start frying it in a heavy soup pot.
I then add a medium sized small diced onion.
After 5 minutes or so, I add carrots and celery, finely diced. I used about 1/2 lb of carrots and bout 1/2 stalk of celery. When possible, use celery root, but i is not always available.
When everything is nicely coated and hot, I add 3-4 Tbs of tomato paste and 1 Tbs of flour and mix it all up.
Add about 1 1/2 quarts of broth - I used 'Better than Boullion' beef broth, but it can be anything - and about 2/3 pound of washed lentils (300g)
Let this simmer and stir once in a while or the lentils will all stick to the bottom.
After 1/2 hour add diced potatoes, I used 4 medium sized ones.
Let it cook for another 1/2 hour.
In the last 15 minutes I added small diced polish kielbasa, but that is optional.
Season with salt, black pepper, balsamic vinegar and fresh parsley.

The magic of music! My iMixes on iTunes :)

2008-09-07T23:06:00.000-04:00

Music is amazing. The multitude of musical expression is unfathomable and does not seize to amaze me. I think music speaks to something so deep within us that words can not adequately describe it. Sometimes when I think I just cannot go on with life, I think to myself that I could just give up everything in life and just listen to music until I die and that would be a good life. In my view, music is the highest achievement of human kind. It transcends nations and borders and even time, it influences our emotions and it can fulfill and heal our soul. I cannot imagine a life without music.

The way we listen to music has changed a lot and I freely admit to loving my iPod. I listen to a broad range of music, may it be medieval, baroque or classical; rock, pop, jazz or new age, world or meditation or whatever else. The iPod allows me to always have the appropriate soundtrack of my life right at my fingertips. Since its first release, iTunes has captured me, there is so much music to discover and re-discover. It is just like following book after book on Amazon, one can get lost and the wish list can get longer.

I have made music compilations since I was 15 and had/have quite a reputation for mixing. I would spend a lot of time analyzing the order and trying out different sequences. So when iTunes came out I was in playlist heaven. Any birthday party gets its own mix, as do some trips or Girl Scout meetings. Why it took me so long to actually publish some of my iMixes, I don't know, but here are my first few published ones (with more to follow):

Relax and let your mind take flight - for Ben
Fantastique! Contemporary french music
Timeless classics for kids and adults :)
Yes! There is great music for children!
Music for kids that adults love too :)
L O V E - L O V E - L O V E!
Movie Magic Music

Check them out next time you are on iTunes and give me your rating ;)

Healthy and delicious school lunches

2008-09-04T23:45:00.000-04:00

Lunch at my children's elementary school is a sad affair. Why it is not possible to have a healthy school lunch with food that is good for learning? Domino's pizza or curly fries just doesn't cut it. Hence my children bring their own lunch. To be honest, I have been dreading the beginning of the school year partially due to the 'morning-lunch-making' experience. My mother cooked for about 85 children and 30 adults every day. She followed a kind of food schedule and certain meals appeared on certain days. I have decided to do the same this year.

Lunch needs to be nutritious, wholesome and fresh. Of course it needs to taste really yummy to actually be eaten. I also try to plan the lunch in a balance with the other meals. If the children have omelet with goat cheese for breakfast, lunch can be pasta and dinner should be focused on vegetables. When the children start with oatmeal or some other cereal, I try to get more protein into the lunch and so forth. Additionally it is important that it is ecological sane and keeps trash as minimal as possible. We are using sturdy lunch bags from Pottery Barn, Sigg bottles, Tupperware sandwich container and snack cups. We also have these great sandwich wraps that double as a surface to eat from. I also like to put a thin damp washcloth in a ziploc bag for messy lunches. Hot lunches stay nice and warm in thermos cups for soup.

This is my plan so far: Monday is sandwich day, because dinner will be soup. For bread we use multi grain, whole wheat or rye, english muffins or flat bread. On the sandwich could be turkey and cranberry sauce, roast-beef and salad, tuna salad (rarely), egg and tomato, homemade cream cheese spread, cheese and apples or anything else we come up with. Tuesdays is soup day, left over from the day before. Favorites are tomato soup with rice, butternut squash soup, chicken noodle soup, lentil soup, chili, minestrone and this list could go on forever . Wednesday is special day like panini, bagel, homemade waffles, spring rolls, salad, natural chicken strips or something special the children request. It can also be buying school lunch for the experience. Thursday is another sandwich day and Friday is Pasta Day with either penne and tomato sauce, whole wheat mac 'n cheese, ravioli or some other pasta dish.

As a side I pick something that complements the meal, usually along the lines of unsweetened apple sauce, yogurt, fruit or veggies (carrots, celery, red pepper) and dip, corn chips and salsa, pita chips and hummus, hard cooked egg or cheese and crackers. My children always have their water bottles, but sometimes they can buy milk. For snack at recess I often pack string cheese, fruit, yogurt smoothie, pop corn, pretzels, crackers, oatmeal bars or popcorn. Because of so many allergic children we stay away from nuts at school and have them at home instead. I like to get the children involved in the planning and to some part in the making. They are already very good at reading food labels and understanding them. We also have them help with the snacks like counting out pretzels or crackers or measuring the volume of a snack. This way they help and learn portion control and serving sizes.

I can control what goes into the lunch box, but of course I cannot control if the children eat it, especially since S seems to eat so slow and talk so much, that she returns home most of her lunch. Today I gave her orders to stop talking and start eating until half her lunch is gone.

My child's school assignment turns into thought exercise for me

2008-09-03T21:53:00.000-04:00

S. came home with a school assignment for tomorrow, we had to tell her a funny story from when she was little so she could put it into her graphic organizer and bring it to school with a photo from the same time (see below). Sounds easy enough, but I was wrecking my brain and could not come up with a funny story. What came to my mind was the time we lost her at Playmobil World, her many ER visits with extreme Kroup or with horrible head wounds from being unbalanced and other catastrophic times we had together, like puking for hours on a flight to Germany or on another flight when she was focused on kicking the seat in front of her and I had to physically restrain her legs for seven hours.

Apparently my child does not offer a lot of physical comedy, though in retrospect horrible stories can have very amusing and entertaining qualities and if we would make a video showing the many times she has fallen of a chair, we would probably win a prize for it (but we don't have the footage). In our search for stories, we looked into our book in which we record interesting moments of childhood if we remember to do so. Looking through the book, almost everything we found for S was something she said, usually a dialog in which she took everything literal, or just very interesting expressions. Now this should not come as a surprise to me, this child did not learn walking the stairs and running until she was four, but she could write her name before her second birthday. When it comes to vocabulary and perception, she is light years ahead, when it comes to coordinating her body in space, not so much.

But back to the assignment, we had a lot of fun reading in that book of memories and remembering the funny stories and it is good thing for all of us, it makes us laugh together and it shows us the funny and heartfelt times. Through this shines the message that life has its ups and downs and that there are always good moments waiting around the corner, it also shows how life and people are changing, but what is not changing is us being a family. So what story did we come up with? When S was two years old, we had this long and cold winter and the snow accumulated and grew and grew. The children wanted to play in the snow while I got some firewood and S started walking on top of the snow following me until, all of a sudden, she broke through the snow crust and was completely gone! The snow was so high in the backyard, that is swallowed her all the way. After the first shock and overcoming the difficulties of pulling her out, we all just burst out in roaring laughter and stayed away from the snow until it melted away in spring.

And before I forget it, I will add two more entries into the book. While on vacation, when I tried to convince J not to visit the souvenir shops, to my delight S remarked that it is all "glorified junk" anyway. And when I went on an evening walk with her the other week, she complained about not having taken her cardigan and when I reacted surprised, she told me: "I feel a pinch of coldness on my skin." I can't begin to tell you how much I love my cerebral and clumsy muffin.

To dare to sing despite the fear

2008-09-01T23:36:00.000-04:00

Today I have joined the Stow Festival Chorus. I have loved singing all my life, especially in a chorus, but it has been quite a while since I sang in a chorus or sang at all for that matter. I have been wanting to join a chorus for so long, but did not know where to start and ... well, I was afraid to do it. So when a friend told me she is joining a chorus and if I would like to do so as well, I just replied that I would be too scared to audition and make a fool of myself. And then it tortured me: here was exactly what I had wanted to do and why was I not jumping with joy and instead had fear rule me?

Why the fear? When I was a child (the newspaper clip shows me performing at the age of four) I was musically gifted, but due to lack of adult guidance, I decided against singing in the advanced chorus at school, because I did not want to get up earlier than I had to. Yes, I gave up the chance to sing at the Hamburg Opera to sleep in. Now I could scream just thinking about it! When I was a teenager, I wanted to join a wonderful chorus, but the director told me to wait until I was 15. I could hardly wait, but then got so scared, that I never auditioned and just went to the concerts. By the time I reached University, I was invited to sing in a chorus and since I was successful in anything I attempted at that time (outside of love) I joined and had a wonderful time singing. The singing was exalting, but the chorus itself was very strange. The singers were a very close knit group that also sang in the academic choir and a lot of them studied music part time or full time. I never found a way into the group and it ended on a very strange note (pun intended). Since then I have been paranoid that it was my singing that was so terrible, that it made these unfriendly and arrogant people despise me. This experience - coupled with the the fact that I have never learned sight reading and need to know what I sing or play - left me with so much fear, that I spent the last years just wishing to be singing but too scared to attempt it.

Fear of failure has always stood by me, I can count on that! But if we do not dare, how can we know? The issue with trying something that might not work out is exactly that, it might not work out and then it is a fact. Sometimes it is easier just to keep wishing and not to try, one can have fear and hope at the same time, but when there is failure, the hope has drowned. I am actually very afraid not to be good enough and not to learn enough to be decent, but I have decided that I rather take the risk. For if I take the risk and give my best effort, maybe it will turn out right and this chance, however little it is, is worth being taken.

And so I have joined the chorus (luckily without audition)! Granted, I feel like I do not quite belong there, that I am not good enough, but I will try to become good enough. The Mass in D by Ethel Smyth is sure worth a huge effort.

Happy Birthday Tasha!

2008-08-28T20:31:00.000-04:00

The Rolls for Special Occasion and the Butterscotch Rolls are in the oven for a very late tea, because today we are celebrating the birthday of New England's Tasha Tudor, beloved illustrator and author of children's books. She died this summer and today she would have been 93. Unlike most, I have not grown up with her books and I just stumbled across her a while back. A couple of blogs announced a celebration of Tasha Tudor and I decided to learn a bit more and requested a multitude of books through the library. My mother has been collecting picture books as long as I can think and Tasha Tudor would fit in beautifully, but the books are much less a focus for me, it is more her way and view of life. I am incredibly inspired after reading so much about her and I am in awe about how much she is a kindred spirit. I'd like to attempt an explanation.

In a way Tasha Tudor reminds me of my roots, like the picture of my great great grandmother at the spinning wheel and the way she dressed like my old great aunts when I was little. I am sure that is a big part of the appeal of her life, her art work and her practiced anachronism (Hey, kind of like our visit to Sturbridge below). We live in such a crazy, fast paced, modern and ugly world that we all yearn for the simplicity of times gone by. Of course the apparent simplicity came with a lot of hard work. As Tasha Tudor said: "Don't look for shortcuts; all good and worthwhile things take time and effort." I think that has been the mantra of my mother and my grandmother. I grew up part time in the agrarian world with harvesting, pickling, baking bread, hooking rugs, getting up early to milk the cows, feed the pigs, tend to the garden and so forth. Even though I am not part of this anymore, it made me who I am and I grew up self reliant and with a lot of freedom to do whatever I wanted to do.

Already when I was quite young, people characterized me (lovingly and teasing) as somebody who plants flax for fiber, then weaves it into fabric for a table cloth to be decorated with self cut stamps and home-brewed natural dye, just to adorn a table built from some trees I cut down. Yes, I like making things from scratch. If I look at my mother, my grandmother, my great grandmother; the women in my family have always been like this, may it be arts & crafts, cooking, baking, gardening, landscaping, woodwork, any textile art or whatever else comes to mind. Like Tasha, the women in my family are industrious, the hands are never idle and we take great pride in the work and tasks we do.

Harry Davis asked Tasha to sum up her life in as few words as possible and she said "I was always tired". That made me laugh out loud, because I can absolutely emphasize. People often ask me when I do all my sewing, carpentry, gardening, kitchen arts and so on and I always reply that I do not sleep. I am sure there are a lot of people out there, that feel the same. But I see some other similarities too. When I spoke to my mother today and told her about Tasha Tudor and why I like her so much, she reminded me with a chuckle how I always thought I was born into the wrong time and really belonged to the 19th century. Harry Davis speaks about her dark side also, how she could be a procrastinator and how she could be mean, stubborn, imperious and unforgiving, by her own account. I admit to the very same personality traits.

Even though I did not make it into art school, I always did illustrations and graphic design on the side or full time. I yet have to put some efforts into my own children's books, which have a hard time to actually materialize, partially due to my own business with crafts, textile and paper arts. Tovah Martin says about Tasha Tudor that all the parts of her life work comfortably together - which just this year has become one of my main goals and is part of this blog. I think it is interesting how Tasha despised the word craft and I think I understand why. If you know german, the word 'Kunsthandwerk' is much more appropriate, but it is difficult to translate meaning something like artistic craft, for the lack of a better translation.

The easiest way to connect to Tasha Tudor is in the kitchen. Being the daughter of a chef, I am quite comfortable there and like my mother and Tasha Tudor, most of my recipes start with "melt butter and saute onions" and I use imagination instead of measurements, much to the chagrin of people that ask me for recipes. I absolutely love the idea that she grows her wheat, thrashes and grounds it and after drinking tea for thirty years, I wholeheartedly agree with the importance of tea time. Tasha Tudor made soup every week, huge pots that can feed an army and she pointed out the importance of seasoning and flavor. If you have been to my house, you know soup is a cornerstone of my cooking.

In no means do I claim to be like Tasha Tudor, she was so unique and wonderful and a national treasure - and I don't even have a corgi - but I hope I was able to show why I think we are kindred spirits and maybe allowed a glimpse of why I am so inspired. I like to close this with one of my favourite Tudor quotes that shows up in the recipe for Raspberry Syrup: "I advise reading a book while stirring so as not to waste time."

Thank you for your time, I hope it was not wasted :)

I have enjoyed this week:
The Tasha Tudor Cookbook
Tasha Tudor's Heirloom Crafts
The Art of Tasha Tudor by Harry Davis
Tasha Tudor's Old-Fashioned Gifts

P.S. The Butterscotch Rolls were quite yummy! And though they are not exactly health food, Tasha Tudor also said: "...once a year will not hurt you, and life is too short not to enjoy a few treats."

Mischief is my middle name

2008-08-27T23:22:00.000-04:00

A friend of mine put me up to take the 'What Kind of Flower Are You? Quiz' at This Garden is Illegal and it showed that I am a Snapdragon (Antirrhinum majus). I am relieved, since they are quite so lovely. Here is what that says about me: "Mischief is your middle name, but your first is friend. You are quite the prankster that loves to make other people laugh."

I think that is very interesting, because it is true, if anything characterizes me, it is how many friends I have and how much I make them laugh with my odd stories. What this has to do with Snapdragons, I do not know and there is not as much mischief left in me as was once. What I do know is that they are very hardy and can withstand a heavy frost, even thought they came from the Old World - the Mediterranean to be specific. Well I am hardy too and I deal with winter pretty well.

I am just really happy that I am not a Canada Thistle: "You are a mean spirited, ornery cuss. People try to get rid of you and you just keep coming back." You should see the 9 foot tall thistle out there in my yard, it is impressive and ugly.

The best day of summer

2008-08-26T14:01:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was our last day before the new school year. Our summer break went by too quickly, just like everybody I have been talking to and there was no unscheduled time at all, except for yesterday. So we all slept in and just decided during breakfast what to do with that lovely and beautiful Monday. Our library has a great program of museum passes and we checked availability and decided on Old Sturbridge Village. We had been wanting to go for quite a while anyway, since the kids have been on a kind of american history trip and they had their old fashioned dresses all ready from our pioneer party the day before. We packed our picnic basket and filled our water-bottles and headed west.

A few years back we made our way out there on a cold January Sunday and got so cold between the car and the entrance, that we opted out. Yesterday was the perfect day though. OSV (Old Sturbridge Village) is offering a plethora of activities and demonstrations on any given day and we decided right away to just do a few houses and things and come back - come back often! We watched a demonstration of dying wool and then of handling a musket. The poor man showing that must have damaged ears for sure. After a brief stop in the tin shop, we headed for the old school house and on the way tried some shuttlecock and trundle rings. At the old schoolhouse we encountered a wonderful and funny young lady teacher, the children absolutely enjoyed it. Our next stop was the potterer and the children had never seen somebody working at the pottery wheel and their faces lit up like candles, they thought that was the most amazing thing they had ever seen. Having tried and failed the pottery wheel, I was just as amazed.

Next on our agenda was a demonstration of broom making, followed by a stop at the bake shop, trying to milk a (plastic-) cow and a break on the playground, where they were working on their skills of playing Graces. This was followed by a hands-on craft making a tin candle holder, which was not as elaborate as the girls had hoped. S being a lover of horses needed to have a horse drawn ride around the mill pond, actually she wanted more than one, but we were in desperate need of lunch, as it was already tea time. We headed to the tavern, got some uninspiring modern kids food and then concluded our visit with two women filling paper tissue balloons with hot air over an small charcoal oven and letting them fly into the sky. S. did not want to stop watching all the failed attempts due to the breeze sweeping down the common. Only a visit to the village bookstore and gift shop could get her moving. We bought a game of graces, though we really loved the trundle hoops too, and they each got a candy stick to sweeten the way home and saying good-bye to summer.

On the way home J. remarked, that this has been the best day of all summer for her and this would have been a lovely ending, but of course S. literal to the bone, had to point out, that the day was not over yet and J. would have to wait with such a statement until the day was truly over. Since it is over today, we can say that it was the best day of summer!

The evil water bottle

2008-08-20T23:03:00.000-04:00

Last Monday I went to pick up S from soccer camp. All the fields were littered with water bottles - discarded water bottles, some of them even almost full. Interestingly, a lot of them were the Poland Springs eco bottle. When I first saw that commercial a few months back, I could hardly believe it. Poland Springs is trying to make people believe that they are actually doing something environmental by buying the eco shape bottle and I think this is bordering on green washing. Isn't it great that the bottle is lighter and - wow - even the paper label is 30% smaller. This does not take away from the fact bottled water is absolutely out of place in every day life and actually only belongs to special circumstances. The fact that so many children just leave the bottles on the field is a whole other topic, that I do not want to get in here now.

The production, transportation and consumption of bottled water wastes resources and energy and pollutes our environment. Millions of barrels of oil are used to make plastic bottles and more is needed to transport them, some even across the ocean. The vast majority of bottles end up as rubbish in landfills, even if they are recyclable. Can you imagine 30 million plastic water bottles a day? Or the bottles get burned and release toxins into the air. On top of it, it takes a lot more water in the process, than actually ends up in the bottle. Let's not forget that water is actually a precious resource, too. Some might argue that the oil used for the plastic bottles is minimal when compared to transportation of other food or drinks. Even though that might be a valid point, I cannot consider it, because changing from bottled to tap water is something everybody can do easily. Orange juice has to come from somewhere other than New England (which is one of the reasons we do not buy it regularly anymore), but I have a lot of faucets. Bottled water is unnecessary and as a consumer I can make a decision that is responsible and not selfish.

Some people think bottled water is safer, but in truth, municipal water underlies stringent EPA testing requirements. The Natural Resources Defense Council did a four-year review of the bottled water industry and concluded that "there is no assurance that just because water comes out of a bottle, it is any cleaner or safer than water from the tap." 70% of bottled water produced and sold within states is exempt from FDA regulation, and a good 1/3 "of tested bottled water brands violated, in at least one sample, an enforceable standard or exceeded microbiological-purity guidelines." Additionally, plastic bottles leach chemicals, which is why that have the warning not to reuse the bottles. So I can filter my water at home and use something safer to store the water. If I am in doubt, I can have the water tested to make sure there is no contamination like lead or something else.

We are a convenient society and buying bottled water seems so convenient, or is it? Somehow my life does not seems more complicated and stressful because I fill up my children's bottle with our charcoal filtered tap water. Filling our bottles and taking them with us has become a habit, we do it automatically. I think that filling up our own bottles is cheaper, safer, more convenient and definitely better for the environment. I am not a fan of plastic for food and drink - just think about BPA - though I make some exceptions. We are using non toxic and eco friendly SIGG bottles from Switzerland. One of my SIGG bottles is about 20 years old and is starting to look beat up, truthfully none of them look pristine, since they are meant to be used. So the only drawback to them lasting so long, is that when I see a new print design, I really have no reason to get a new one.

Think about this: there are some cities in Canada, that have a bottled water ban.

Solitude

2008-08-17T17:16:00.000-04:00

This is the second weekend in a row, that my husband was so nice to take the kids and give me space and time by myself. Most of my life I have been by myself. My mother and I were a small family unit of two and as a necessity stemming from her working 2 jobs and being very independent, I was raised very early to be self reliable and spent much time alone. I am and was not a loner though, anybody who knows me, can attest to how social I am and how I love to be with friends. As most things in life, there needs to be a balance though between shared and alone time. Solitude is a basic need for me. On one hand it recharges me and readjusts my being back to it's true self and on the other it enables my creativity by giving me rest and energy at the same time. Having a weekend to myself is incredibly freeing, peaceful and constructive.

With the birth of my first daughter, I was propelled into a world completely deficient of solitude and quiet and it took me a while to realize how important it is and that I need to cultivate it. Strange enough though, becoming a mother also made me very lonely. Loneliness is quite opposite from solitude. Solitude is the choice to be alone without being lonely, Loneliness is not a choice and can occur without being alone. I have often experienced the feeling of loneliness while being with other people, feeling out of touch and emotionally isolated.

I do not know if my love for solitude is circumstantial or inherited. My mother and grandmother both were individualistic people that craved it. Maybe it is part of the psyche of creative minds. All my life I have loved to go on long walks, especially by the water or to sit at dusk and just be. Communing with nature rather another person is a state of mind that feels like being one with the world and internally content. In today's world it can be difficult to reach that. We are never out of touch and can be reached anytime and anywhere, have entertainment in our pockets and calendars and to-do-lists that take every minute of our lives. So I have decided that I will try to have a block of time once a week that I spent in solitude and I hope that it can balance the craziness of the other days. So if you cannot reach me on my cell phone, I might be experiencing quiet solitude at Walden Pond, which is a bit closer that this beautiful lake in Maine.