Oh Mann!!!!

A typical night at the Mann:
I saw two people I know from school; one person from high school who is back for the summer; the parents of a guy I went to Luzerne with about 5 years ago- they recognized me; my assistant conductor from DCYO from senior year; and, last but not least, two nine-year-olds who recognized me from two years ago when I played on "From the Top" with my quintet.
One of the girls summed it up- "I remember. It's the braid."

Edmund Blair-Leighton

I have recently discovered one of my favorite painters. I think the thing I like most about his paintings is the way he uses light. He never uses "artificial" spot lights. Rather, he uses sunlight usually coming from the back or side. Also, all the paintings are oil-on-canvas which gives real depth to the pictures. This lighting and paint, combined with the warm colors he uses, create a quietly radiant painting that is simply breath-taking. The picture I first fell in love with is called The Accolade (1901)


If this was not enough to put him in my "favorite painters" list, on further research I found another picture. Now, understandably, Lady Godiva has a special place in my heart. However, there really aren't any acceptable pictures of her, seeing as painters seem to harp on the riding-naked-on-a-horse theme. So I was rather ecstatic when I found Blair-Leighton's Lady Godiva (1892)

Hamlets

A quick note on Hamlet. On Sunday afternoon we watched Mel Gibson's rendition of Hamlet. It was excellent. The cast was incredible (Ian Holm as Polonius, Helena Bonham Carter as Ophelia, Paul Scofield as the Ghost). This is my review: if you want a clean, un-complex version of Hamlet then this is the movie to watch. Because they have to cut so much (it is a 2 hour rendition of the 4-hour play) there is not so much to work with and you just get the essential questions and problems. Mel Gibson makes a wonderful Hamlet and really brings something to the part. For the purists, however, there is Kenneth Branagh's version as well. This also has a star-studded cast and really brings out the complexity of the Hamlet roll since it is the complete play. It is rather lighter in aesthetic quality than the Gibson film, and it is set in a different century- 19th century instead of the Middle Ages.
I loved the Branagh version and so was a little hesitant to see the Gibson film. But there were aspects of the play and of the characters that I had never seen or thought of. I thoroughly enjoyed it and recommend either (or rather) both.

First Fruits

I decided to take a stroll outside today and during my stroll I noticed our garden. Every year we plant several rows of peas and every year my Dad puts up 4-foot fences; and every year, without fail, the peas grow to be about 6-foot. You must understand, this happens every year; we suggest that he put up taller fences and he points to the seed packages which say the plants should grow to 3 1/2 feet; and the plants proceed to grow up over the fences, falling into each other, forming barricades and obstacle courses for the pea-pickers.
So this year we but up 5-foot fences; and, yes, you guessed it, the peas grew to be 3 feet. Now that's what you call ironic. So we have been watching these little plants produce flowers. But today when I went to check on them, there were peas! These little plants are loaded with pea-pods. So Sarah and I happily ate our way down the rows- no baskets, no "two for the basket, one for me." It was just "All for one, and more for me."
It looks to be a different year- we will have to bend double in order to pick; this may be an improvement over having to fight your way through long tendrils that somehow find their way into your hair, tickle the back of your knees, and slowly form barricades behind you, preventing your escape. I say it might be an improvement, as long as there are still enough peas!

Weed-wackers and Hydrangeas

I was asleep on the chair when I heard it- the sound of a weed-whacker starting. My subconscious prompted- "Hydrangeas." I told it, "He wouldn't cut down the hydrangeas, they are blooming." Then, into my mind floated the picture of the field of violets they cut down; then the brussel sprouts chopped in the garden. I am now sitting in the basement saying to myself, "Please don't cut down my hydrangeas, please don't cut down my hydrangeas." I have sent Sarah outside to mosey around and pet the cat and KEEP AN EYE ON THAT IDIOT WITH THE RATHER-IMPORTANT-PLANT-WHACKER.
She has reported that apparently 1 1/2 foot plants with blooms the size of baseballs were obvious enough to survive the weed-scourge. He whacked right around them, getting close enough to make them wave, but did not actually hurt them.
You might ask, why I didn't go and watch him instead of sending Sarah. The answer? I couldn't. Not watch him trim around my precious, young, beautiful hydrangeas.
He has gone now, off to terrorize someone else.... but he has been replaced by the mower. Ah me!

The Bagpipe Didn't Say No

Here is my funny poem of the day. I had forgotten about this one, but when I was reminded of it, I thought I would post it for others to enjoy. It is rather funny in a sad kind of way and it seems to be a parody of a Scottish balled.

THE BAGPIPE WHO DIDN'T SAY NO

It was nine o'clock at midnight at a quarter after three

When a turtle met a bagpipe on the shoreside by the sea,
And the turtle said, "My dearie,
May I sit with you? I'm weary."
And the bagpipe didn't say no.

Said the turtle to the bagpipe, "I have walked this lonely shore,
I have talked to waves and pebbles--but I've never loved before.
Will you marry me today, dear?
Is it 'No' you're going to say dear?"
But the bagpipe didn't say no.

Said the turtle to his darling, "Please excuse me if I stare,
But you have the plaidest skin, dear,
And you have the strangest hair.
If I begged you pretty please, love,
Could I give you just one squeeze, love?"
And the bagpipe didn't say no.


Said the turtle to the bagpipe, "Ah, you love me. Then confess!
Let me whisper in your dainty ear and hold you to my chest."
And he cuddled her and teased her
And so lovingly he squeezed her.
And the bagpipe said, "Aaooga."


Said the turtle to the bagpipe, "Did you honk or bray or neigh?
For 'Aaooga' when your kissed is such a heartless thing to say.
Is it that I have offended?
Is it that our love is ended?"
And the bagpipe didn't say no.


Said the turtle to the bagpipe, "Shall I leave you, darling wife?
Shall I waddle off to Woedom? Shall I crawl out of your life?
Shall I move, depart and go, dear--
Oh, I beg you tell me 'No' dear!"
But the bagpipe didn't say no.

So the turtle crept off crying and he ne'er came back no more,
And he left the bagpipe lying on that smooth and sandy shore.
And some night when tide is low there,
Just walk up and say, "Hello, there,"
And politely ask the bagpipe if this story's really so.
I assure you, darling children, the bagpipe won't say "No."

-Shel Silverstein

I'm hungry

I think I know what my mother must feel like. Today, while eating lunch, I saw the normal flock of little sparrows hovering around looking for lost tid-bits. As a side-note, the sparrows on Temple's campus are not as innocent as they would like you to think. You don't usually think of birds begging, but these do. They'll come up as close as they dare, close enough for you to see the "feed-me-I'm-a-starving-little-sparrow-that-gets-bullied-by-the-pigeons" look. If that doesn't work, they put their head on one side and chirp at you. But I digress. Today I noticed that there was one particular bird that was being followed around by two smaller ones who were incessantly chirping in her wake. In between dodging around for crumbs, she would stop and stick a crumb down one of the gaping throats.
A mother with two fledgelings, out of the nest but still following her around saying "Mommy, I'm hungry." Yep, that's about right. Sorry, Mom.