Paris (Photo) Journal

So excited.  I just ordered this album  from Snapfish.  It tells the whole story of our trip in pictures.
Editing over 1,500 pictures down to 'just' 437 photos and 86 pages took a lot of hours.  Even though I had to delete pretty ruthlessly, those hours were pretty decadent.  I avoided accomplishing a few other tasks for a few days, because this project was so fun.
So many pictures were left out, but the remaining 86 pages capture a lot of timeless moments, trigger deep emotions, and fill my mind with happy memories.  The images on the pages still feel magical to me, making me jittery and happy every time I look at them (even on the screen).  The real, leather bound, actual paper...printed book version won't arrive for another ten days.

Stay tuned for Paris Journal: Day Five.  It won't be long.  Well...it probably will be long....a long post, that is.  That's just how I roll.  But, you shouldn't have to wait long to read it.

*****************

Just checked my link....looks like you'll have to log-in to Snapfish to view the book.  Sorry about that.  

If you decide that you don't want to give them your email address and sign your life away to Snapfish forever, you'll just have to come visit me soon to see the real thing.   

Paris Journal: Day Three

This morning, I was anxious to get out of bed.  Tired, but eager to start the day.  Our plans included both the Musee D'Orsay and Versailles, both of which could take the better part of a day (or more).  I'd been planning my Paris wardrobe for weeks, so it was easy to get dressed...I was confident that we knew the city enough to get breakfast and take the metro.  I was up and ready to conquer the day.  Our two-day pass was ready to expire, and I had an agenda.  However, Ryan was (understandably) exhausted....and seemed (to me) to take forever to wake up and get ready.  I may have been a little panicky and nagged him just a bit.

Finally down the stairs and out into the street, we saved some euros (and time) buying our croissants and cafe cremes down in a little chain boulangerie in the metro station.  It seemed every bit as delicious and magical as the cafe variety....once we we arrived at our stop and walked through the Tuileries Garden to eat our breakfast.

We walked through the garden and over the bridge to the Musee D'Orsay.  Again, we were grateful for our Museum Pass which allowed us to skip a winding crowded line and go straight into the museum.  First, VanGogh, Seurat and the other neo-Impressionists...then off to the Impressionists.  These were the paintings I fell in love with as a child....poring over the little book of postcards of the Musee D'Orsay, given to me by my big brother Andrew and sister Lynn.   Some of the Renoirs....I had also seen as a teenager in a special exhibit in Chicago for a school trip.  To me they are almost sacred.

Degas sculptures and the paintings of Monet, Manet, Degas, Renoir...breathtaking.  And the view of the city, from the top floor of the museum...looking out through the giant glass clock window.
A. Maz. ing.

When I first saw Monet's "Poppy Field" painting,  I tried to explain to Ryan that it was the print..a framed painting that hung in my bedroom as a little girl and all the way through college...another beloved gift from Andy and Lynn's trip to France.  As I realized how much it all meant to me, that painting, Andy and Lynn's formative roles in my life, so many of my now fulfilled dreams, being in this city, in this museum, in this room, with this painting, with the man I love...who has given all this to me...I started to cry a little.  Teary eyes, filled to overflowing with joy and the knowledge of being loved.


We also saw an interesting Finnish exhibit with rugged landscapes that reminded us both of the cabin.

Leaving the museum, we descended straight to the metro station below the Musee D'Orsay....which conveniently led us to the train bound for Versailles.  My exhaustion hit hard on the way and I fell in and out of sleep on Ryan's shoulder.  We were part of a mob-like crowd pouring out of the metro station, descending upon the ville of Versailles. It was after 12:00, so the crowd was hungry (including us).  We laughed about the strategically placed McDonalds and Starbucks, which, at first glance, appeared to be the only options for food.  But as we walked up the shady rue toward the Chateau, we were delighted to discover a quaint street packed with little cafes and bars and markets.  After walking up and down, we settled on the Aquarium, which was lovely and delicious and simple.  Our "trois fromage" sandwiches were made on one very long baguette, sliced open and cut in two, spread with green-leaf lettuce and layered with camembert, brie and fresh mozzarella, drizzled with light olive oil.  A perfect lunch.

The wait at Versailles was disappointing, especially after our "royal treatment" at the other museums with our passes.  The line snaked up and down the giant outer courtyard.  It was sunny and a bit hot, and fortunately, the line moved along.

Inside, the palace was beyond all descriptive terms such as elaborate, decadent, overwhelming, opulent, beautiful, ridiculous.   Enormous....stretching on and on, long corridors, giant rooms, grand staircases, it's own cathedral.  All covered, every square inch, with exquisite materials, precious stone, masterpiece paintings or carvings, grand sculptures.  Amazing to see.  Probably the only place of its kind and degree of grandeur in the world.  But the shoulder to shoulder crowds, covering every square inch of space was exhausting, suffocating, and also ridiculous.

By the end of the great Hall of Mirrors, (which of course, was impressive), we were feeling quite trapped, and more than ready to escape to the gardens, calling peacefully to us from the windows.  Since our pass excluded the gardens, but included the Trianon Palaces and Marie Antoinette's Estate (my most desired destination in Versailles), we were forced to decide: pay for the gardens (9 euros each) AND the tram tickets (7 euros each) to get to Marie's estate in just 15 pain-free minutes...OR take the 45 minute walk around the Palace, through the town, and around to the back of the estate all the way to Marie's cottage.

We walked.  And walked.

Our sore, blistered feet and aching calves might have caused regret...but it was truly one of the most beautiful walks we've ever taken.  I kept telling Ryan how dreamlike it was, how much it meant to me, how delighted I was with every view...the long straight dirt road, lined with perfectly symmetrical trees, along both sides, the rich green of the grassy pastures on both sides of the road, sheep on one sided, horses on the other.  It was like walking into a film I've always loved.

Eventually, the stone fairy-tale-esque cottages with quirky turrets and towers appeared through the trees.  We wandered through the paths, snapping as many photos as possible.  Every moment, I felt the struggle to keep taking it in...to fight the anesthetizing effects of so. much. Beauty!!  As we walked back towards the Chateau, we found the Trianon palaces too AND...the tram back to Versailles.  For only 3.70 euros a piece, we got a full riding tour of those same gardens we'd skipped out on earlier, and...they dropped us off inside the gardens to wander as we pleased.  The bargain that we had just arranged felt delightfully "tricky" and smart and made the end of our Versailles day twice as fun.

Back in Paris, we crossed back over the bridge, through the Tuileries, and wandered to a French restaurant that looked pretty traditional.  A L'auberge.  The eager waiter convinced us by enthusiastically waving us in.  And the "Prix Fixe" menu looked about right for our budget.  I ordered escargot and Supremes de Volailes and Ryan had a tomato and mozzarella salade with Confits du Canard.  As is so often the case, Ryan got it right with the duck.  It was so tender and buttery/salty tasting.  My chicken was okay, a little dry, despite the delicious creamy sauce, I thought, but the snails were a delicious "first" for me.  The shells were filled with a pesto-like sauce and melted butter...and the snails themselves were delicious and tender and salty.  mmmm..

We hadn't talked to the girls yet all day (no wifi), so we headed to a cafe for some cafe creme (for me) and of course, a crepe for Ryan, and a tiny little cup of cafe (very bitter).  The waiter was the only one we experienced in all of France, the kind that everyone warns you about, the caricature of french "rudeness", who seemed annoyed with our American presence, expecting us to order more than just one dessert and cafe...and waiting impatiently on us, frustrated to be wasting his time on a table such as ours.  I tried hard not to feel the pressure, but it was hard for me to feel the disapproving Frenchman's smugness.  So, I ordered creme brulee too.  And it was delicious.  But he still didn't like me.

It started to rain.  It was warm under the heated canopy outside the cafe, but the wind and rain threatened to intensify.  The people passing on the sidewalks and on motorcycles were getting drenched.  So, we paid the grumpy waiter and huddled under our little umbrella, walking briskly back around the square to our hotel.

Paris Journal: Evening Two (Eiffel Tower)

Our first full day in Paris was like a dream.  We had crossed several things (major things) off of our list: the Louvre, the Tulleries Garden, La Musee de l'Orangerie, Berthillon glace, Shakespeare & Co., sun-filled walks over bridges and wanderings along the Seine.  One major list item remained.  And for Ryan, it was near the top of the list, the Eiffel Tower.

After a little rest and planning time at the hotel, we took the metro back to the Opera station.  We had only briefly glimpsed it as we entered the city on our first afternoon.  We figured we could get a better look at the Opera, and then wander our way towards the Eiffel Tower.   But before we could find the entrance to the Opera, I spotted something I knew Ryan would love...the Paris Mac store!  Since there was of course, free wifi there, we spent a long time inside, 'face-timing' with the girls.  On our way back down into the metro, we grabbed coffees (to go---the American sized version from Starbucks) and headed to the Eiffel Tower.
Author's side note: This is one of my only regrets of the trip.  Side-tracked by the Mac store and our hurry to see the tower that night, we never entered the Opera....as in "Phantom of..."  If I weren't so utterly full from beautiful once-in-a-lifetime adventures, I would have cried as we drove away from it on our last day.  

After walking for two or three blocks from the metro stop, 'it' emerged... finally.... from behind the buildings and trees.  We could not have asked for a more beautiful evening for this magical moment.  The air was just slightly crisp, but the sky was filled with warm colors, yellows and pinks..and just a little hazy.

As we walked closer, we tried again and again....at every angle to capture its magnificence.

There were play grounds and parks, gardens, and food stands along the way.  One little side-trip off the path led us to one of our favorite views of the night.   (Ryan's beautiful photography and editing)

We seriously considered going up.  But we knew in advance that one of the elevators was out of order...the line was hours long.  And one of us is not fond of heights at all.  We opted to take a River Cruise instead.  A different kind of city view.

The Eiffel tower sits on the edge of the river.  So we walked underneath the tower, toward the Seine.  We found a sunset cruise that included a light dinner and wine, a "snack cruise." So we bought our tickets and boarded the bateaux mouche.  Squeezed tightly among rows and rows of wooden folding chairs, we found two perfect seats on the upper deck.  Everyone there was happy, of course.  It was really like all the movie versions of a river cruise in Paris.  Kissing and smiling and laughing and contentedly breathing deeply...we glided through the water under exquisite bridges and watched the city slowly light up.

The tower was just beginning to light up when our boat returned.  We had just enough time to skip up the stairs to record the sparkling lights before they were gone.  Apparently, we aren't the only YouTube contributors to think that this event is pretty cool.  You can probably find better videos of this...but here is ours.  Including our delighted laughter.

While Ryan captured that on the ipad, I was capturing this with the camera.

It took us a little too long to find the nearest metro station that night.  Block after block of dark alleys made us both begin to feel a little uneasy in this strange city with its language and culture we did not understand.  But eventually we ducked down into the warmth and familiarity of the metro station and soon we were sitting and swaying on the train, people watching, on our way to our safe and cozy little room.

Paris Journal: Day Two

Despite my indescribable excitement upon waking (in Paris!?!?!), it was hard to get out of bed.  A wonderfully hot shower helped.  I put on a black lace dress with gray leggings, my gray cardigan, and my Grandma Linda's black and gray scarf.  The scarf-around-my-head... a little too "Parisienne"?  or perhaps even "Parisienne-wanna-be"?  Maybe.  But fun. 

We walked around Place de Republique to a cafe for le petit dejeuner of croissants et jus d'orange et cafe.  Pricey for a croissant, but worth the euros for the table, the view, the atmosphere, and the experience....and oh, the buttery flaky warm croissant...!

The metro took us to our first stop, the Louvre.  It was magnifique.  Overwhelming.  dizzying, breathtaking.  Every inch of visual space (for miles?) was a sensual overload of beauty and detail.  It was difficult to fight the numbing effect of so. much. beauty.  The courtyard itself was like a dream...hard to convince myself that I was actually there, standing beside the glass pyramid, surrounded by the Louvre.  Our 2-day pass allowed us to skip the long line at the entrance, so we dove right in.  Our first glimpse of the Louvre's exhibits was in the back, near the middle...a grand hall filled with creamy white sculptures, Hermaphrodite, Homer, and others.  We roamed through much of the Louvre, checking off our lists of 'must-sees' including Venus de Milo (Aphrodite ), Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss by Antonio Canova, Michelangelo's Captive (Dying Slave), Mona Lisa, Veronese's The Wedding Feast at Cana (which dwarfed the tiny 'La Jaconde' facing on the opposite wall).  We also found the 'other' symbol of the Louvre, "The Winged Victory of Samrothrace" overlooking a grand staircase in a magnificent marble hall swarming with people.

The apartments of Napoleon and the crown jewels seemed almost too much to absorb in the midst of our already-overloaded eyes.  Nearly every 20 steps or so, we gasped with some new discovery,...a vast courtyard (several stories tall, lit by sunlight) full of Greek or Roman sculptures, a grand room with masterpieces lining the walls (and ceilings!), marble staircases...   

Even though we were looking for it, we almost missed Vermeer's (tiny) Lacemaker.  But she was beautiful. Brilliant and quiet.   

When we had 'finished' our list, we headed toward the exit, accidentally discovering one more room, this one, filled with Renoirs, Degas, Monets, and Manets.  

The Jardin de Tuileries was perfectly sunny and delightful.  We sat in little green chairs overlooking the fountain.  A picnic lunch in the garden gave our legs and feet time to rest before we headed to Musee de l'Orangerie...

I was particularly excited about this museum.  Though it was much smaller (and far more intimate) than the grand Louvre, I knew it was filled with the art I really wanted to see.  The current special exhibit could not have been more perfect for our visit: Debussy, la musique et les arts.  Room after room of old photos, paintings, musical manuscripts, all related to Debussy and other composers demonstrating the relationships between the artists (and art) and the musicians (and music) of that era.

The permanent exhibits were also wonderful.  No photos were allowed inside this museum.  But this museum deserves a picture....for no description (or even a great photo, for that matter) could really convey the sensation of entering these rooms, (two of them!), pure white and oval shaped, diffused sunlight perfectly illuminating the surrounding walls covered with Monet's Waterlilies.  Ryan and I were both speachless, a little dizzy even, when we rounded the corner into this incredible space.  

Since I didn't have a photo, here is an image I found at time.com 

(article: 10 Things to do in Paris) 

After L'Orangerie, we crossed a bridge to the Musee d'Orsay, but found it was closed on Mondays.  Without a plan for the rest of the day, we roamed the streets.  We checked off another 'list' item, Berthillon glace (ice-cream) cones (vanille por moi, et tiramisu por Ryan) slowly eaten on a bridge over the Seine.  So delicously rich, creamy and flavorful.  I made that tiny cone last longer than any other ice-cream I've eaten in my entire life.  

As we wandered, we also found Shakespeare & Co. Bookstore!  

The inside was just covered with books, packed tightly, lining the walls...with rolling ladders...Low ceilings and tight walls created lots of cozy and quirky rooms.  You could feel the historic significance of the space, especially upstairs, rooms with old sunken velvet sitting chairs, an old Schindler piano, a tiny cove, a cubby with a curtain (only about 4 ft. tall... inside it had a miniature desk, a lamp, & a typrewriter...the perfect place to hide for a day). No pictures were allowed inside, so I tried to store the images in my mind forever.  

Here is an image (not mine) of the inside.  Having read A Moveable Feast just before the trip, my imagination was full... with thoughts of Hemingway, Joyce, Sylvia Beach, and Paris in the 1920's.  

Full.  We rode the metro back to our hotel to rest and make a plan for the evening.

dreaming...

...someday one of these fabrics could be transformed into bedroom curtains, window seat cushions, duvet covers, or throw pillows maybe...

In reality...
I've been wanting to find something old to repurpose as a jewelry organizer. I wanted it to be unique and have character..with lots of little 'cubbies'...possibly even drawers...and something I could hang on my wall. Then I found this brilliant idea on Etsy (made by "Bluebirdheaven"). I already have my printer drawer (found at an antique store for $12), it's partially cleaned out, but it needs a little more time before mine will be ready to hang.

This post is looking like something I cut out and paste into my "book". I do have a real journal... one made out of paper that isn't published all over the internet. It's mostly for me...a place to collect ideas, recipes, memories, reflections, prayers, quotes, book 'reviews.' But sometimes really good friends kindly browse its quirky pages and make me feel grateful and embarrassed. I'm on my second "book", the first one is filled to capacity. Maybe my third book will look something like this one...

etsy

Chunky Urban Bucket Hat from afterthebump


Red Felt Mary Jane's from ithinksewdotcom

Kawaii Zakka Paris Pillow from dedeetsyshop


Pretend Play Sugar Cookies from Madelaines

If only I had more time and money to make imaginative and adorable things for my girls....

I should be reading Learning Sequences in Music: Skill, Content, and Patterns (required reading before my class in 2 weeks) or sleeping....not posting random things I found on the internet to my blog.

While brainstorming for my elementary musical...

...I randomly stumbled upon this magical flicker page.

I love fairy tale cottages.

waste

This artist intrigued me tonight. (Thanks Dad Corbin). Obviously, his art doesn't last long. And it makes you want to scream....knowing that such intricately carved images will just disappear, smear, blow away, be wiped clean, wasted. But he knows this as he makes every mark. And he still creates.

I think my consumerist, product focused brain can hardly comprehend such generous work being created to be wasted.

My kind of art, musical performance, was always that kind of art before recorded music became a possibility. It was something to be savored only in the moment. Created, played, a process to be a participant of... and then gone (gone except for the written score...but really that is only part of the MUSIC....right?).

This concept of waste seems alright to me when the 'product' is only mediocre, if the performance was average to good. But if I hear or play or see something flawless, precise, moving, and sublime... I am distracted from the pleasure of the moment....preoccupied by my worry... that it wasn't saved. Or at least...that maybe someone else heard it too.

Whenever I am assured that something truly great has been captured, recorded, saved...I feel such relief:
Photographs of moments, occasions, people, places. A long paper, essay, letter, blog post. Video recordings of stories, performances, life.
I treasure these things.
And I really cling to the actual objects. Desperately, sometimes. (This is why my basement is so full.)

But there is something so tragically beautiful in the process of creating something that won't last forever (like a meal for people you love). And in being wasted beauty, it is also a little more authentic and...generous somehow. It seems to be a little more like life. Most things of real beauty are cyclical and fleeting (and I don't just mean seasons, sunsets, and flowers, and youth...though I suppose they're good enough examples).

One of the most agonizing feelings for me these days is the realization that once the dishes are all clean and put away, and the laundry is folded, and the toys are organized, and the cheerios are swept (which, by the way...none of these things actually are done.)...it will all start over again. Maybe this daily struggle against futility is what made me cling to these thoughts today.
I think I need to start finding more joy in the process of life...every day.

I'm not quite ready to give up the hope that something I've created will last forever...or at least for a really long time.

I do find great pleasure in recording music. And I also delight in listening to recorded music. Both of these things make my world exceedingly more serene, exciting, intoxicating, mysterious, inspiring, complex, satisfying.... I still like the 'products' of creativity.

I'm just saying that as an artist, a teacher, a mother, a wife, a student, a follower of Jesus...I tend to forget (even though I know) that the process of creating, of fixing, of learning, of mending, of finding and making beauty....the process is sometimes the point.

Sometimes, I wish....

...that I had been one of those really focused children. That I had spent hours practicing my violin. Not just playing it. But carefully, precisely....perfecting my technique. Making observations, judgments, and adjustments to my own playing. But I wasn't that child. I played my violin alot. I made a lot of music. And I progressed easily. But I really didn't practice.

So when I entered the 'world of music' (a college music department, professional music circles, and now grad school) I felt kind of, behind. And when I'm in circles of musicians, I'm always aware that I'm not quite intense enough. That I haven't spent the time..., that I'm not quite as proficient or knowledgeable....as I should be.

But with all those feelings of inadequacy (which are unhealthy, and revisited all to often on this blog...sorry, and are only sort-of based on truth) there's also this sense of smugness with which I sometimes comfort myself, a happy sense of satisfaction because I know... deep down.... I know.... that I could be...really good.

And I remind myself that instead...

I'm..."balanced". That I have a lot of interests, involvements, skills, relationships. That I've chosen this path of scattered investments. That my highest priorities right now are not music or academia, but people. A few very important people that need me.

(I couldn't help but post these old pictures. Just too sweet.)

And I'm unbelievably happy about this.

In fact, I feel really lucky. That I kind of get to 'have it all'. That I get to live this life of rich blessing...motherhood. And I get to share my whole life with my incredibly generous, self-sacrificing, funny, intelligent, handsome Ryan and our children.

AND.

I'm still a musician, and I'm still learning. And tomorrow I get to meet an amazing violinist who will actually listen to me play (cringe) and help me improve (hopeful smile). I'm scared to death about actually playing.

I listened to my Senior Recital CD yesterday. Often cringing at the rough spots, but mostly shocked that I could play that way not so long ago. Pieces I would struggle these days to read, let alone finger and play....I was playing with clarity...sometimes beauty and what even sounded like... ease.

And as I listened, I resolved to myself (and aloud to Ryan)...

This old recording will NOT be my best.

I don't know how...

....but I'm going to make the most of this opportunity.

I just made the payment for my three credits at Grand Valley. MingHuan Xu has agreed to take me as a violin student for this Winter. Did you read about her?

I'm already nervous..but mostly excited.

It's a one hour lesson per week, but I receive three credits towards my Masters at MSU. So that means, I practice...a lot. Maybe during nap time? In the basement?

I haven't really 'studied' violin in six years. And my playing has painfully regressed. I better go practice now. And I'll have to take a trip here soon to get my bow re-haired and maybe repaired.

piper

I just stumbled upon this beautiful artist today. I haven't really taken the time to browse much beyond the current post. But I'm in love with her art. I'd like to fill Maya and Sophie's rooms with murals in this style. This is how I imagine all the fairy tales...

SPIN

Every once in a while, I still think about this short film we saw earlier this month at the Muskegon Film Festival.

I love the concept.

BTW- Does any one else see a slight resemblance to James Bean?


....wait, I just watched it again....make that "a STRIKING resemblance to James Bean?"

One Last Escape

Saturday morning, we loaded up our station wagon and headed to Chicago for one more quick weekend trip before our family changes forever. As we drove, we wondered what our next road trip would be like with a car seat in the back seat...with Maya.

It was a really short trip, but full of beautiful memories. Saturday night, after a peaceful afternoon nap at the hotel, we met my friend
Allison's fiance Marc, an amazing jazz trumpeter who frequently plays at the...








Currently, he's playing in a twelve piece band in the show "Come Fly With Me" at the Mercury Theater, and got us tickets.

After the show, we enjoyed dinner at a great Italian restaurant next door.


Sunday, we woke up slowly in our beautiful hotel room... walked a couple blocks to find breakfast, wandered around the staircases and ball rooms of the Hilton, then lounged in the hotel lobby, sipping Chai and coffee in a window seat, waiting for the city to open at 10:00.


The Art Institute of Chicago.

Seeing the actual brushstrokes of Renoir, Monet, Hopper, Sargent, Picasso...whose lives and work left profound marks on their world...renewed my love of art, and my Creator-given desire to create. There are few places that hold such power to inspire. The beauty of the architecture, the white marble staircases, the intricate details. The quiet rooms filled with paintings, sculptures, drawings, pottery that are more than just beautiful pieces of art. They are vast records of history and thought...centuries of people, relationships, tragedies, struggles.

One of our favorite paintings of the day..."The Picture of Dorian Gray."

After the Art Institute, we walked a little ways down Michigan Avenue, to watch the ice skaters in the park...on our way to the 'Miracle Mile' of materialism and excess. We didn't do any real Chicago shopping this trip...besides the free little rubber pad replacements they gave us for the bottom of our notebook at the Mac store, and the free massages we always enjoy at The Sharper Image.

Mostly we just enjoyed being together...a car ride for long conversations, an exciting city filled with people and music and art, distant friends, an elegant hotel with amazingly fluffy pillows, no alarm clock, no obligations or work, no real responsibility for two days...decadent.

after a long eleven hour day of work...

...we spent a few hours here on Tuesday night.

I recorded some violin accompaniment for a local folk artist's new CD.
It was a very satisfying musical experience. Not super challenging, but fun.

The producer, Michael Crittenden was so helpful and knowledgeable. I don't usually have a lot of direction or creative input from others when I'm improvising. But it was really helpful to have the guidance of an amazing musician and producer.

a good weekend

Mondays are a decadent pleasure I never feel I deserve after a restful weekend. However, I think without the extra day, I would lose my sanity.
Today, after having my blood drawn and an eye appointment, I picked Ryan up on his lunch break to enjoy the Olive Garden.
Never-ending Pasta" for him, and "unlimited soup, salad, & breadsticks" for me. As he dreaded going back to his "office space" world, we dreamed of how we could both have flexible jobs...so that we could be home more and together more. It's only been three years, but we never tire of spending time together. For being such opinionated, cynical, fault finding people, we seem to like *eachother* a whole lot. I'm sure there is some danger in that. But I think I'm pretty lucky.

Saturday morning, we woke up without an alarm...to the sun streaming in our windows and our long sheer curtains blowing in the wind. The rest of the morning was filled with cleaning, laundry, and baking banana bread. On our way to the beach for a hike in the dunes, we stopped at our favorite local bakery for a peach-strawberry smoothie...and the "Sardine Room" restaurant for some crab mournet.
Sitting at the top of the dune, we ate and tried to soak in the beauty around us. It was just cool enough to wear sweaters and sweatshirts. Right now, I can hear the restful sound of the leaves being rustled by the wind, but there is nothing like the sound of the waves at Lake Michigan. The path through the woods in the dunes was covered with leaves and smelled like cedar and pine and earth. I felt like I was in the woodshed at the cabin, breathing in the smell of freshly cut firewood. Why don't I spend every spare minute at the beach?


Saturday night, I got to play again at the Dogwood Center's Black Box theatre. It's fun to be performing again. In late October, I'm going to record some violin/cello accompaniment for one of the artists. It'll probably be a 'free' gig, but very rewarding and fun.
I realized on Saturday, as I saw lots of the same people again...how genuine they were. The musicians I met a month ago asked the usual questions about my job...about Ryan, etc. But they really wanted to know. One new friend even asked Ryan if he was excited to be finishing school this week. How did he remember that? I barely talked to him? I was humbled by their real sense of acceptance and community...outside of my usual 'church' kind of community. I don't think I'm a very good listener. But I want to be that kind of friend.

Some of my favorite things...

...last night I had a dream about isaac and will. There was no plot. Just lots of happy smiles and Will's 'cooing' laughter. It was so comforting and beautiful.

...I had this dream around 7:45 AM. Yes, that's right, I was still sleeping then. I have Mondays off.

...Before I went to sleep last night, I got to spend time with my very best friend, Mandy, who lives too far away. While we shared warm bread and olive oil, we enjoyed talking about lots of fun things. I always feel so loved and comfortable with Mandy. She is the best kind of friend. I miss her already.



...On Saturday, I had a total of 6 phone calls that all started with singing (usually the whole song) "Happy Birthday to you..."
One of the phone calls included several singers...of whom a few continued to sing the song over and over for the entire phone call...screaming "CHA CHA CHA" each time they ended.



...Living next door to these two amazing kids allows me to hear their laughter in the backyard and see their tricks on the trampoline. Sometimes we can hear them outside of our window in the morning, leaving for school. I even get to be their music teacher at school too. I think that is my favorite part of my job.

...This Thursday, Ryan and I will be starting a dance class in Grand Haven for eight weeks. He is the best gift-giver I have ever known. (This is truly a sacrificial gift. I think he is dreading it, but he knows how much I love to dance with him.)

...Tonight, I will be going to my art class (another present from my sweet husband-from a birthday two years ago).

...In less than a month, I get to spend a long weekend at the cabin with this wonderful man, and two of our really good friends.

...I have many encouraging friends who listen when I whine about my disapointment and wounded pride. People who know the right things to say to help me heal and remind me of all the joy in my life too. Thank you.

It was true...

Some readers predicted long periods of silence when school started.

Sorry. They were right.

I just finished my first week with students. ( a short week, no school tomorrow!)
I enjoyed it so much more than the previous week...organizing, planning, meetings,...more meetings.

One thing I love about being a music teacher is that I keep getting the same kids back every year. I get to watch them change and grow, and my relationship with them only deepens.

It was a fun beginning, but I'm ready to enjoy the long weekend now.

* * *

The concert at the Dogwoood... was so exciting to be a part of. I am always amazed by musicians who can intertwine meaningful thoughts and words with complex and beautiful music. Someday I think I'll start writing a lot of music.

Phoebe was there performing 'smelly cat'. Actually her name was Anisa, and she *was* a talented singer, unlike her "Friends" look-alike. But she *did* sing a song that had the word "stinky" and the word "cat" in the same sentence.

"Two Dog" came onto the stage alone...wearing jeans, a button-up flannel shirt, and an ill-fitting baseball hat over his long gray braids and earings. He had one of the most soothing, peaceful voices I've ever heard. He spoke about gratitude and hope and generosity. His English and Ottowan words were full of grace and genteleness. He sang unaccompanied. It was breathtaking.

Meeting so many talented musicians was inspiring. I might even get to play on some of their recordings in the future.

* * *

I'll be auditioning for the WSSO next Saturday. Until this week, I've been so worried and preoccupied by this.
For some reason, I don't feel like my whole identity hinges upon this anymore. I desperately want to play this year. But life will continue if I can't. And life will still have plenty of beauty and happiness...despite the disapointment.

* * *

In my long silence, I've even neglected my blog reading!
But I've heard rumors that all three of my brothers are now blogging again!
You must promise to still at least feign interest in my blog though.

* * *

Ryan has given me a guilt trip for writing endlessly about myself while there are multitudes of people starving, homeless, and hurting all over the world.
He was only teasing.
But he's right.

We watched an incredible film tonight about some beautiful children living in a 'red light' district. "Born into Brothels"
The children speak eloquently about their unlikely dreams for their future, their fears of acquiring their mothers' life work, and their love of art and beauty despite the filth and evil surrounding them.

Again, we were reminded of our vast wealth and privillege.

* * *

okay. i'm done.

as late afternoon sun flooded my living room...

...with warm yellow light,
three new friends filled my house with music.

minor chords,
hesitantly srummed.
two powerful smoky voices singing
haunting lyrics.
a viola
and cello echoing sadness
a djembe
evoking loneliness and distance

It was the music of SADE (but with an 'earth-ier', raw sound)...

"There is a woman in somalia
The sun gives her no mercy
The same sky we lay under
Burns her to the bone...

There's a force stronger than nature
Keeps her will alive
That's how she's dying
She's dying to survive
Don't know what she's made of
I would like to be that brave
She cries to the heaven above
There is a stone in my heart
She lives a life she didn't choose..."


I'm excited to play again, under stage lights, in an intimate room built for accoustics...maybe you can hear it too, when we play tegether this Saturday at the Dogwood Center.

Music has been heavy on my mind this week. Though the challenge and risk of what's ahead is exhilarating, I've also made it something stressful. Somehow I've worked myself into believing that my whole validity as a musician (even as a person) hinges upon this one audition. That if I have to face rejection, all the other opportunities I have to play will somehow disappear too. But they won't. I'll always do this. And this year isn't my last chance to ever play in a symphony.

I forgot how much I love being with other musicians.

Tonight was a perfect outlet to just play. Enjoying the process of creating...sharing something.

. . .

I just got off the phone with the principal of one of my schools...and I committed myself to another class. How am I EVER going to fit 30+ private students into my crowded week? I think I will experience great shock in a few days after my lazy summer of reading, blogging, and travel.