January 2022 – Life Off Headset

Books Read in November and December 2021

Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia, read by Frankie Corzo– I do love a gothic novel, but this book went from gothic to unhinged supernatural and it wasn’t really my thing.

The Making of Asian America by Erika Lee – (11h, 39m). This book traces the history of Asian Americans in America, from indentured servants brought to Latin America from the Philippines in the 16th century to today. I have to admit that my knowledge of Asian history is embarrassingly scant, and this book, while dry, was really eye-opening as to the scope of the Asian American experience. The term Asian encompasses such a wide range of countries and ethnic groups that it is only superficially practical a term. Lee really lays how how different the immigrant experience and motivations are for the people from each country of the Asian continent. One fact that struck me was when Lee points out that census data shows that Asian Americans are “over-represented at both ends of the educational and economic spectrum.” I think many Another sobering thought was how Asians were often the target of miscegenation laws; to think that as recently as fifty years ago, there were states in which I could not have married the Husband.

4000 Weeks: Time Management for Mortals by Oliver Burkeman – (4h 1m) I thought Burkeman had some really great thoughts on how we decide how to spend our time, 4000 weeks being roughly the average human life span. He posits that in acknowledging that time is finite, we can give ourselves the grace to be decisive about what we do with it. One quote that particularly stood out to me: “Everyone seems to agree that if you embark on a relationship when you secretly suspect you could find someone better, you’re guilty of settling, because you’re opting to use up a portion of your life with a less-than-ideal partner. But since time is finite, the decision to refuse to settle… is also a case of settling, because you’re choosing to use up … your limited time in a different sort of less-than-ideal situation.”
For someone who suffers from FOMO, this idea that there are many good choices and you should spend your time living the choice rather than choosing… it’s hits close to home. Not that one should make bad choices just to move on with life, but rather indecision is a form of settling as well.

The View Was Exhausting by Mikaella Clements and Onjuli Datta read by Tania Rodrigues – Breezy Hollywood romance about a British Indian actress and a fake romance that might not be fake after all. This book was full of the usual glamour and glitz of a movie star life, but also the harsh realities of being a woman of colour in an industry dominated by white men. As swoon worthy as I found the lush description of luxury, I really loved the more intimate domestic parts of the book where the main character returns to her roots.

The Salt Path by Raynor Winn– (3h 3m) Winn discovers that her husband is terminally ill and then days later, they lose their house and farm in a frustrating legal battle. Left without a home, they decide to walk the South West Coat Path in England, a 630 mile trail. This book, like Wild, made me yearn to take a backpacking trip on my own – something about reading about inexperienced backpackers undertaking an epic journey makes the whole endeavor seem possible for me.

How Lucky by Will Leitch – (4h 53m) This novel is told through the point of view of Daniel, a 26 year old who is confined to a wheel chair due to a debilitating neuromuscular disorder. The plot centers around Daniel’s attempt to solve a mystery surrounding the disappearance of a college student, along the way enlisting the help of his best friend and his home health aid. Daniel’s voice has a certain prickly charm and humour that I really enjoyed. At the same time, I was very much aware that I was reading a novel about a disabled character written by a fully able author. Not that I thought the book inauthentic, or that writers can only write their own experience. Rather it made me want to seek out books written by authors with disabilities because I think diversity should not just be about what I read about, but also whose work I’m reading.

Hector and the Search for Happiness by Francois Lelord, translated by Lorenza Garcia, read by James Clamp – The Husband had watched a movie based on this book and liked the movie quite a lot. I found the book rather pithy – the title pretty much sums up the plot – but I did enjoy the characters that Hector met along the way.

The Seamstress by Frances de Pontes Peebles – Novel about two sisters from the interior of 1920s Brazil. Orphaned, they live with their aunt who trains them to be seamstresses, but then one marries into a wealthy family and the other is taken into a band of bandits/revolutionaries. Their lives unfold with a tension that mirrors the political upheaval of early twentieth century Brazil. There was something sweeping and cinematic about this book; it’s the stuff that epic Oscar winning historical costume dramas are made of: strong female characters, elegant locales contrasted with gritty back country, big historic moments, secrets and lies. It felt good to sink into this novel and while it was slow to start, the last third was gripping.

Billion Dollar Loser by Reeves Weideman – (6h. 33m) Weideman’s book tells the story of WeWork, and more specifically how WeWork’s CEO and Founder Adam Neumann managed to build an office sharing company incredibly quickly by selling investors on an idea that had an almost mystical and ideological allure, even though the reality of WeWork was built on very shaky ground and even more shoddy workplace practices. Reading this book made me realize how empty the idea of capitalism can be when charisma can bring in investors even when a company and its founder are clearly unbalanced. Of course hindsight is 20/20, and perhaps there was something incredibly appealing about the global community Neumann and his wife were trying to build especially at a time when so many start-ups were trying to create businesses that were based on virtual communities. In the book, Weideman quotes another co-working CEO who says, “You get to the question of, is that what capitalism is supposed to do?… One way to ask this question is, in the system we have set up, do the people who were successful reflect the values we want?”

Weekly recap + what we ate: jumping

At the beginning of the week, I got into my car, only to find that the battery had died. Apparently on Friday, upon arrival home from school, and unloading from the car, someone (ahem… a child) did not fully close their door when they got out of the car. Another someone (another child) had turned off the dome light, so I had no idea that the car sat there all weekend with a door not quite closed. And a long weekend at that. So when I got into the car on Monday to go to the movie, the car wouldn’t start.

Luckily we have a spare car – an almost 20 year old vehicle that we inherited from the Husband’s parent – so I used that car for a few days. But then on Wednesday, I take the ten year old to her morning piano lesson in the spare car. I drop her, take the other two kids with me to pick up breakfast sandwiches (our Wednesday morning bribe to get the kids in the car by 7:06am), then come back to sit in front of the piano teacher’s house while the lesson finished up. The ten year old comes out, gets into the car and then …. the car doesn’t start. Cue my huge cry of disbelieving frustration. I cannot believe I have two dead batteries in two different cars in two days. I call the Husband at work and he comes and jumps the car, takes the four year old to school so I don’t have to turn the car off again, and tells me to go on a nice long drive. I have about 45 minutes before the ten year old needs to be at school, so we take a nice long drive.

Then that evening when I get home, we jump my car and I go on another nice long drive.

So jumping…

I don’t know if it’s just been hard getting back into a routine with COVID closures and snow days and what not, but this week has felt really unmoored. I was driving down the freeway on the way to the ten year old’s school and it struck me – I feel like a frog jumping from lily pad to lily pad, with scarce time to linger and catch my breath. Every day is a mad dash from one school drop off to another to a toddler activity to home for lunch to back in the car for pick up from one school than another. But really, I just want to sit on my lily pad and watch the flies go by.

I think maybe also the weather has something to do with this sense of body constantly in motion. It’s been in the mid 20s all week, which it makes it a little too cold for me to really slow down and linger outside, even though outside is where I often get my energy. At that temperature, with no snow to play in, I’ve discovered my outdoor limit with the baby is about 45 mins. I think I clocked only 9 hours outside this week. But even still, we did go on some beautiful 45 minute walks – nice pauses between lily pad jumping.

I was on the hunt for more of the County’s Selfie Stands, so I took the baby for a walk on a trail around a lake. The county website said that there was a stand on this trail, but we didn’t find it. We did, however, see lots of geese – noisy creatures in their V formations, that swooped above our heads and then landed on the frozen lake. Turns out the selfie stand was at the end of the trail, but a fallen tree in our path had discouraged us from making it all the way there. Now that I know where it is, though, we will have to return.

I actually had two failed selfie stand excursions this week. The second one was at a park, and I’m pretty sure the stand isn’t there even though the website says there is. But we did get this cool picture of a hollow tree:

Another day, I tried to take the baby to a playground, but it was too cold for her to be interested in playing on the equipment, so we went for a walk around the park. The grounds around the park is prone to flooding, and there were some beautiful ice puddles. I found the variety of shapes and lines mesmerizing. The baby was fascinated by the effects of her stick on the ice, and the cracking sounds and patterns that she could make.

Later in the week, I did finally manage to locate a selfie stand. This one was on the site of a house and garden that I hadn’t been to before. The site was once a private residence but is now part of the County Parks system. The house and gardens sit on five acres of land in a quite wealthy residential neighborhood, and it was almost like visiting someone’s private estate gardens. Right now, everything was all bare and bramble, but there were potential flowers. I’ve made a note to come back to see how these tightly close buds will open to become magnolia and azaleas come warmer weather.

Other things of note this week:

The Husband cooked dinner all week again, and I found time to practice playing the concertina. I can now play a C major scale and a G major scale. I’m realizing that the 20 button concertina is perhaps better for playing chords and accompanying oneself while singing, rather than more melodic endeavors. So I’ve decided that before March 11th, when my rental period is up, I want to be able to sing “Dear Theodosia” from Hamilton while accompanying myself on the concertina.

Speaking of Dear Theodosia… because I’m driving the oldest kid to school these days rather than catching the 8:15a bus, we have an extra 45 minutes in the morning to chill at home. The other day after breakfast we had a bit of time and the four year old asked if we could sing Dear Theodosia, so I found some music online and we sang it together. It was such a beautiful perfect little moment in the pause before the chaos of getting out the door.

A great podcast conversation I listened to this week was this Fresh Air Interview with Kal Penn – I thought he had a lot of really beautiful things to say about being a child of Indian immigrants, and being an Indian actor in Hollywood. He had a striking anecdote about trying to convince a director that he shouldn’t play a part with an Indian accent, noting that he thought it was important the other Indian kids should get to see themselves on tv as Americans and not as caricatures. The director refused, and Penn notes: “I think it’s a bit of a misnomer that racism only comes from ignorance; it can also come from a conscious maintenance of power and a desire to keep people down.” Growing up, I always felt that being blond was the ideal because that is what you see in mainstream media, and Penn’s anecdote really hit close to home.

Conversation with the four year old:
4 year old: Can you read me Green Eggs and Ham?
Me: I don’t really like Green Eggs and Ham.
4 year old: It’s not about you liking Green Eggs and Ham.

What We Ate:

Saturday: Grilled pork tenderloin with roasted asparagus, green beans and potatoes. It was the birthday of the Husband’s father, who had passed away five years ago. On his birthday we always try to have a meal that he would have liked. There is something really fun about grilling when it is 20 degrees outside.

Sunday: Leftovers and apple pie.

Monday: Parsnip Soup.

Tuesday: I can’t remember, but it involved leeks and lemons and maybe fish? The Husband had borrowed a stack of cookbooks from the library and this recipe came from a Mediterranean cookbook.

Wednesday: Sweet and Sour Pork and Broccoli

Thursday: Broccoli Pasta Bake.

Friday: pizza and Sense and Sensibility. I saw this movie in the theatre when it came out in 1995, a year that was full of wonderful Austen adaptations, and I love it so much. I’ve watched it many times, and I partly picked the movie because we’re trying to watch movies from our own DVD collection. This time through the movie, I was stuck by how beautifully framed so many of the shots were, creating such a sense of intimacy in every scene. I had never noticed before, but the scene where Elinor tells Edward that Colonel Brandon has offered him a job is shot in almost one long take, as if the tension between the two almost lovers is too fragile to break up by switching camera angles.

The Weekend – Movie

Last weekend was a long weekend, and it felt like a good combination of lazy and productive and fun.

The “productive” was clearing out a mountain of baby clothes from the guestroom – which we currently call the multi-purpose room since it houses the guest bed, the baby’s pjs and changing table, the Husband’s seldom used work from home set up, my concertina, and all our winter coats and snow pants, and whatever random thing that doesn’t have a home. But my mother is coming in a few weeks to help with the kids when I start my next gig, so we need to make the room suitable for her.

There is something a little sad about boxing up the baby clothes to pass along to friends – the acknowledging that I’m done having babies (physically if not mentally) and that others get the joy of little baby cuddles. But I realized that just shoving the clothes in the attic was delaying the inevitable. So I sorted and packed and kept a few things in a bin I labelled “nostalgia” and then texted my friends with new babies to see if they needed clothes.

“Productive” was also going for two runs, even though the weather was in the low 30s. I had read somewhere that running makes the temperature feel ten degrees warmer, so with that in mind, I decided to brave the cold. I put on my wool and silk underwear and headed out. I’m still very very slow and running intervals rather than longer stretches, but it feels good to be moving and out in the air.

I passed this charming lone glove on my run – clearly a lost object that someone had placed on a branch in hopes that its owner would come looking for it. I love how it kind of poked out from behind the tree, waving at me while I ran past.

“Lazy” was hanging out watching football and basketball and eating popcorn for dinner and playing with our trucks and the Swedish climbing wall and deciding that the freezing rain was enough reason to let the ten year old skip swim clinic and just sit at home and watch football and eat the apple pie which the Husband made.

This latter was definitely not lazy on his part, but it was his first attempt at apple pie. Saturday would have been his father’s birthday, and he always made apple pie for the holidays. When we accidentally got a bag of granny smith apples in our grocery delivery, the Husband decided that he was going to honor his father by making an apple pie. It turned out really well! And whereas my apple pies always seem to come out with a soggy bottom, the Husband’s did not. I’m so proud of him!

Also maybe lazy was going on a winter walk. There had been snow forecast, but it turned out to be a mild dusting which quickly turned to icy slush and mud. Since we had spent the previous day hunkered inside, I decided we were going to go for a morning walk. I made the poor decision to wear my sneakers, along with the four year old, forgetting that there is some patches on our walk that has truly terrible drainage and then had to carry him over some large icy puddles. Note to self: just wear the boots.

And “Fun” was taking the ten year old to see West Side Story at the AFI Theatre. I love West Side Story. One summer, I was stage managing at an opera festival and my show was performed in rep with a production of West Side Story that was so so so good. Like I started crying from the moment Tony and Maria met in the gym because there was something so beautifully fatalistic yet full of life about that production. I don’t usually gush to directors, but at the opening night party, I cornered the director and gushed.

When I was in high school, or maybe college, I can’t remember, I somehow got my hands on a cassette tape of the original Broadway Cast Album of West Side Story. I can’t recall what I was doing at the time, or where I was going, but the commute was exactly the same length as the A side of the tape – from the brassy opening bars of the prologue to the romantic hopefulness of “One Hand, One Heart.” Every day, as I drove from home to work (or maybe school), I listened to Side A. I feel like there was something wrong with my tape deck that I couldn’t just flip the tape over, so I would just rewind the tape and listen to side A again. And it was kind of magical and perfect because twice a day in my car, Maria and Tony met, fell in love, and pledged their troth. I never moved on the the Rumble or its tragic outcome, or to Anita’s anger and Maria’s desperate love or the hopeless hopefulness of “Somewhere.” There was just this perfect little story of two kids from opposite sides falling in love.

So my love for West Side Story is longstanding and when I saw that the movie was finally being released, I knew I was going to have to see it somehow. (Somewhere…) I also thought it would be a great mother-daughter date since the ten year old loves musicals too. There’s that line in the book “Nothing to See Here” where the main character says something to the effect of parenting being showing kids what you love and hoping they love it too. This was absolutely that kind of excursion. (Spoiler alert: She loved “America” but though the Rumble too scary. “There’s a reason that this movie is PG 13!” she said, emphasis on the 13. )

Even pre-COVID I didn’t go to the movies much – maybe two or three times a year. During COVID – I think the ten year old went to a movie birthday party last summer where one of her classmates rented out the whole theatre, but that’s pretty much been it for movies in theatre. To be honest, I was a little on the fence about whether I thought this was going to be a good idea. I mean there’s the whole COVID and gathering in large groups thing, but also… the story doesn’t really have a happy ending. But I asked her if she would want to go and she said yes.

On the movie theatre’s website, patrons have to to reserve their seats when they buy tickets, so I could look at the seating chart and get an idea of how crowded the theater would be. It didn’t look like there were a lot of tickets being sold – and I had heard that the movie wasn’t doing that well at the box office. Given that the seating chart looked pretty empty and that they required proof of vaccination or a negative PCR test and masks in order to see a film, I figured that going to the movies was not the riskiest thing that we could do right now. But even still, I was somewhat relieved when the movie started and I looked around and counted maybe twelve people in the theatre. It’s so strange to have to do these kinds of risk calculations for something that used to be a typical casual date night activity, but I guess that’s life in COVID times.

The movie itself was wonderful. I though the new script by Tony Kushner brought some thoughtful backstory and details to the story. And I loved how gritty yet beautiful everything and everyone was. And the score, and hearing it played by a full orchestra. And the dancing… I love big dance numbers with choreography that tells a story as well as showcases how incredible the human body can be when it moves. And when many human bodies move together, it’s even more amazing. Every move was so deft and natural.

And there were definitely tears for me. I’ve always found “Somewhere” somewhat problematic in the stage show because while the song is beautiful, it kind of pulls the action away from the stage and story. But in the film, I thought they found such a moving solution for the song, one that had me in tears. I actually was in tears for a lot of the movie. Mostly during that “B” side of the tape that I never listened to all those years ago. Which is probably a good thing because driving while crying is tough.

Weekly recap + what we ate: Testing and ten year old

This was the week of COVID test distribution. All public school students were sent home on Monday with a rapid test kit. (Well, all schools that were still meeting in person; eleven schools in our district had transitioned to distance learning because of their COVID numbers, though I understand test kits were available for those families to pick up at the school.) Our school had a Zoom COVID test party, which I thought was a cute idea. The Principal led everyone though how to use their test kits, with a 15 minute dance party while we waited for the results. The nine year old’s test was negative. I had a feeling that it would be, but given that the four year old had no symptoms and he tested positive, I’ve given up any expectations on how COVID spreads.

The County also started handing out test kits at Public Libraries. I love that the public libraries are seen as the right hub for the distribution to happen. The first two days, I drove by a couple libraries and the lines were quite long, so I didn’t stop. In fact, on Tuesday they ran out of tests before the end of the distribution window. Wednesday, I got there half an hour after the window opened and managed to get several kits because they gave two to each resident, including children. The line was quite long when I arrived, but it moved quickly and we were in and out in about ten minutes. I’ve been hearing stories about how there are people selling on Craigslist these COVID test kits that city/county governments are distribution for free … which I find really angering.

In other COVID news, on Tuesday evening, we were told that the the four year old’s class would be closed because of an exposure in his classroom. The school was initially somewhat vague about re-opening plans because while the state has approved a five day quarantine and negative test for kids to return to class after an exposure, our County still mandates a 10 day quarantine period. So I girded my loins for another ten days at home with the four year old. But then, the next evening, the school and wrote, saying since the four year old had had COVID within the past ninety days (seventeen days, to be exact) he was allowed to return to the classroom. Hooray! I had already made plans with him for Thursday, so he went back on Friday, one of two kids in class. I asked him how it was being in such a small class, and he said he liked it. Though he added, “But sometimes my head said to me, ‘What is going on?'”

I hear you, little guy. Some days it feels like such a mental and emotional roller coaster having to navigate COVID.

In happier side, my oldest turned ten last week. Wow. I look at her and wonder how we got here so soon and how she got to be so tall and have so many opinions. A decade seems to me to be a long time … surely it hasn’t been a decade since she was born? And then other days, I think, if she’s been around so long, why haven’t I figured this whole parenting thing out yet? Isn’t ten years enough time to figure things out? But I have to admit that my kid still confounds me every single day, and every single day I’m convinced that I’m bungling things.

Anyhow, at her request, we had an ice cream cake and Chipotle and probably a little too much screentime. The day after her birthday was a half day of school, so the Husband took a half day off and we took her skating. Or rather the ten year old and four year old and I went skating and the Husband watched the baby and cheered us on. It was the four year old’s first time skating and I thought he did okay! And he got lots of help from his sister. He was also super excited by the Zamboni as it is featured in the book that we got him for Christmas, “Unconventional Vehicles“.

After the four year old got tired of skating, the ten year old and I skated together for the rest of our time, gliding lazily around the rink, trying to avoid the groups of teenagers and middle schoolers. Originally this was supposed to be a mommy daughter date, and she was disappointed that her little brother had to tag along because of his school closure, so I’m glad we got a good half hour on the ice just the two of us.

Some kid adventures this week:

Both the baby and the four year old began the winter sessions of swim lessons this week. Winter swim lessons are certainly harder to navigate than summer swim lessons. In the summer, you can put them in their swim suits before you leave the house and they can ride home slightly wet, sitting on a towel. But in the winter, there’s all those layer of clothes and the dressing and undressing and undressing and dressing. But the kids have fun and I do want them to learn to swim sooner rather than later. Though to be honest, I feel like they’re going to need more than once a week lessons to truly learn. I think the ten year old really learned to swim independently the summer she had daily swim lessons for two weeks.

A new to us park: It was quite cold (for us) this week. No snow, but temperatures in the low 30s to mid 20s. I only made it outside for 13 hours this week (17 hours a week is the average to get to 1000 hours for the year. But I figure things will even out in the summer…) Still, I was determined to explore a little bit outside, so Monday day after school drop off, I took the baby to an “adventure playground” that was a little bit of a drive from home, but not too far from the ten year old’s school. I think the only thing truly “adventure” about this playground was the climbing wall, but there was a castle and a pirate ship which were perfect for imaginative adventures. And lots of slides and swings and pretend cars.

Game nights: On nights when we manage to clean up dinner by 7:15p or so, we’ve taken to playing games as a family. For Christmas we added Sleeping Queens, King of Tokyo and Taco Cat Goat Cheese Pizza to our game cupboard. Even the four year old can play these games, which is great because for a while I felt bad that he was left out of game night. We help him strategize sometimes, and I’ve loved seeing how he’s coming to understand how each game is played. It’s been really fun, and we laugh a lot. Yes, sometimes there is pouting and tantrums when someone doesn’t win, but we’re working on those life lessons, I hope.

What We Ate: The Husband decided that he wanted to cook dinner this week, which was kind of great. It made me realize that a) I do like cooking and have been somewhat a control freak about it, and b) cooking takes up a lot of time, and I have so much more free time in the evenings when I don’t have to cook! The kid’s Swedish Climbing Wall has been great during this pre-dinner time – I can sit in the room while they climb it, but I only have to interact minimally so I can read or do some work while they play.

Saturday: Hmmm… can’t remember.

Sunday: The Husband made some kind of stir fry.

Monday: Spicy tofu tacos and Napa Cabbage Slaw. This was really tasty – one of those meals where you realize that it’s the sauce that’s important, not what you put it on.

Tuesday: Chipotle, as requested by the ten year old for her birthday.

Wednesday: Dumplings and french fries, take out. Not the healthiest, but it was supposed to be a post-skating snack and then we realized afterwards that we were too full to eat a proper dinner. There was definitely a lot of birthday slacking going on this week.

Thursday: Chicken Broccoli Stir Fry with Rice.

Friday: Pizza – the Husband even put anchovies on mine! And we watched Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. I feel like I spent the whole movie staring at Keanu Reeves with a little bit of wonder at how different he is in this movie from really anything else he’s done.

January Challenge #16 – flowers

For January I signed up for 64 Million Artists’ January Challenge. Every day in January, they send out a prompt for a quick creative challenge. I’m posting some of my output here.

Find a flower. You might find it outside, inside, in a book, magazine or online.
Consider the colour, shapes and textures of the flower. Is it rough, soft, rotting, smooth…or anything else?
Capture the essence and colours of your flower in a picture, sketch or haiku.

January rose.
Blazing solitary pink
When will the snow come?

Snow mirroring clouds,
Soft white banks of fluff and cold
with blue sky between.

January Challenge #9 – Reflections

Capture a reflection that you see, perceive or feel.

The weekend – Where the Music Comes From

I spent much of the weekend working. Yay work! I had gotten a call to do another supertitle gig, this time for a vocal recital. The contract had me create the PowerPoint for the supertitles in addition to running them during the recital. Creating the PowerPoint and putting the slide placements in my score ended up taking much of Friday night and all day Saturday. At some point, after I was deep into typing the slides for the first half of the concert, the Husband, data organization genius, figured out a way to take the translations that I was given and put them directly into the PowerPoint. It involved moving the data set (as he called the lines of text) into an Excel file, then into a Word document merge file, and then finally into the PowerPoint. While it seemed complicated, it was loads less time consuming that typing everything out. This is probably incredibly nerdy, but the Husband and I had much discussion about whether it was better to proof your data set then merge, or to merge the given data set and then correct the final PowerPoint. It is so interesting to me that even after twelve years of marriage I’m still discovering ways in which the Husband and I think differently, especially on such a conceptual level.

Anyhow, the recital itself was magical. The first half was songs by queer American and British composers, and many of the songs were favorites of mine. The second half was songs by Spanish and Latino composers and full of fun and feeling. I had forgotten how much I love a song recital – the simplicity of a singer and a pianist and the music they want to share. No sets, no costumes… just music and text and heartfelt emotions of that moment.

One of the songs in the first half was a song written by Lee Hoiby, called “Where the Music Comes From.” I had sung it when I was in college, and judging from YouTube it is extremely popular in college song recitals. Nonetheless it is one of my favorite songs; I loved the piece for it’s elegant long lines, full of hope and yearning and joy. I get the sense that in the classical music world, songs that are so unabashedly melodic are somewhat out of style – critics tend to dismiss them as artless pastiche pieces or overly sentimental. Maudlin, even. I would definitely say that “Where the Music Comes From” is sentimental, and sentimentality is perhaps frowned upon these days. People want smart and ironic and clever.

(Also, I just noticed that I had always sung the third verse incorrectly… there is a phrase of music that is just different enough from the previous two verses that you need to pay attention or you’ll sing it wrong. I had an internal mortifying moment wondering why my voice teacher and art song coach never said anything to me about this and let me perform it in a recital incorrectly!)

There is something strange about hearing someone else sing a piece that you are so intimately familiar with that it is carved into the heart of your memory. When I heard it in the recital on Sunday, I got goosebumps because it sounded familiar and new all at the same time. But – and here is the wonder of this particular singer – I have loved this song for over twenty years now, and he made me re-think the piece. (I’ve put the text below.) I had always thought of the three verses as three different wishes, but there was something about the way this singer sang the song that made me realize, that actually, it’s the same wish – the song is a wish for a place where all these things can come together.

Where the Music Comes From
Music and Text by Lee Hoiby

I want to be where the music come from,
Where the clock stops, where it’s now.
I want to be with the friends around me,
Who have found me, who show me how.
I want to sing to the early morning,
See the sunlight melt the snow:
And, oh, I want to grow.

I want to wake to the living spirit
Here inside me where it lies.
I want to listen till I can hear it,
Let it guide me and realize
That I can go with the flow unending,
That is blending, that is real;
And oh, I want to feel.

I want to walk in the earthly garden,
Far from cities, far from fear.
I want to talk to the growing garden,
To the devas, to the deer,
And to be one with the river flowing,
Breezes blowing, sky above.
And, oh, I want to love.

There is so much about the text that speaks to me, but I think listening to this now, during a pandemic where isolation is a survival tactic, I really grasp on to the imagery of needing to surround oneself with joyful nurturing things, whether it be friends or nature or even just thoughts – and being able to recognize and merge these things into your life.

Weekly recap + what we ate: Snow! finally!

Snow and clouds and blue sky in between.

We finally had snow! After the mildest of winters, snow arrived. Enough snow and ice that the first two days back from winter break were declared snow days by the school district. The third day was a delayed opening, and it ended up being quite a mess; so many school bus drivers were out due to COVID that ninety bus routes were cancelled that day. Given that COVID numbers were going up, we decided that just to be cautious I would drive the nine year old to and from school instead of having her take the bus. I’m not sure if it really is going to make a difference, but isn’t this whole pandemic layer after layer of risk mitigation and risk assessment? So we figured if the bus was a layer of COVID risk, we could remove that since I could drive her. Hopefully by the time I go back to work in February, the COVID numbers will have gone down.

I’ve been reading Katherine May’s Wintering, and she has a passage about snow days that I love:
“I love the inconvenience [of snow] the same way that I sneakingly love a bad cold: the irresistible disruption to mundane life, forcing you to stop for a while and step outside your normal habits.”

In a way, the snow day seemed like merely an extension of our COVID isolation period – a time outside of the everyday rush and bustle where we were forced to just be in the place we were. The Husband went to work – since his test was negative and he was vaxed and boosted and had no symptoms, he was allowed back to work after five days – leaving me home with all three kids. We couldn’t venture very far afield, and instead found our lives wrapped in a cozy cocoon of winter weather. Even our planned grocery delivery had been cancelled. So we ate down the pantry and the freezer, and the shin deep snow in the backyard was our playground.

Bundling the kids is always a process. It takes me about fifteen to twenty minutes to get the four year old and the baby fully into their snow gear and out the door. (The nine year old gets herself dressed, save for me zipping her up since we have these gloves with extended cuffs that have to be put on before the coat.) Mittens, snow suits, hats, scarves, wool socks, boots, Aquaphor to protect their cheeks … it’s a lot. But at least I know they are warm enough to they will stay out there for a good long while. I do need to put a calendar reminder for next fall to review the snow gear since I think the two older kids will need new snow pants next year, and definitely boots. Luckily there will be hand me downs for the baby.

The second snow day, the nine year old wanted to take a walk down to the trail to see what the snow looked like there. Everything was blanketed white and shimmery ice. The kids played a little too close for my comfort at the edge of the creek, my warning that wet feet would be cold feet going unheeded. It was a beautiful walk, though. The trail was quite empty and the stillness made our crunching footsteps seem louder than normal. I love the squeaky brittle sound of walking in snow.

There was a nice lazy rhythm to these snow days… up and outside by 9:30a. Play in the snow until lunchtime. Then lunch with hot chocolate – I had bought a large pack of hot cocoa bombs from Costco before Christmas. I don’t think I ever got the milk hot enough to melt the chocolate shell and release the hot cocoa mix in a swirling explosion like on the YouTube videos. The bombs kind of just floated in milk and then slowly disintegrated to reveal cocoa powder and marshmallows. Oh well, nothing is ever like on YouTube.

Then indolent afternoons of screentime (nine year old), books (four year old) and naps (baby) while I tried to pick up the kitchen. I was once again reminded how much living happens when people are home all day. The clean up felt constant. It was definitely an unrelenting couple of days.

Wednesday, I took the four year old and the baby sledding while the nine year old was in school. (The current guidelines allow her back in school if she is vaccinated and without symptoms, so I guess she didn’t really have to quarantine.) I love sledding even though we don’t own a sled. I had, in fact, put a calendar reminder for myself to buy a sled last fall. But fall came with it’s sixty degree weather and the need for a sled didn’t seem imminent. Never mind that the point of writing myself a calendar reminder was so that I didn’t wait until the need was indeed imminent. I felt a little sad earlier in the week as I watched other kids whizz down hills in their sleds, and kicked myself for not having bought a sled. Then I went looking around the house for other things to use. I ended up grabbing a cardboard box (what else?) that I wrapped in a garbage bag, and the cement mixing tray that we had been using as a water table. This latter worked surprisingly well, though the cardboard and garbage bag did manage to get the baby down the hill, even if not as slickly. It was really adorable because the four year old insisted on keeping one hand on his sister’s “sled” as they went down the hill in tandem. Once in a while they fell over, going heels over head, but they got up and did it again, pushing and pulling their make-shift sled up the hill.

Thursday, was the first day that both kids were back for a full school day. I took the baby to Seneca Creek State Park in hopes of having a little hike, but she just wanted to play on the playground. I did manage to convince her to walk down to the edge of the lake and we threw branches in the water, a favorite pastime. It was definitely cold – probably mid 30s – but there is something I really love about cold weather and bare trees and the quiet of winter.

Friday we had more snow, and another snow day with classes cancelled. I took the kids sledding again. This time, I also brought along a baby bath tub since the cardboard and garbage bag from last time had disintegrated. The baby bathtub didn’t work great, which was just as well since the baby wanted to go to the playground instead. So, after telling the nine year old to keep an eye on her brother, I took the baby to the playground. She wanted to swing, though before I knew it, she had fallen asleep in the swing!

We ended up meeting up with some friends at the hill, which always make things more fun for the nine year old. And then at one point, I looked up and a snowball fight had broken out among all the neighborhood kids who were at the hill, complete with sled barricades. Of course my first instinct was to tell the nine year old that she shouldn’t be throwing snowballs at other kids, but I bit my tongue and let the classic kids rumble play out.

So in the final tally, the first week back at school was actually one short day and one full day. The four year old was technically released from isolating on Thursday, so he had one day of school before the snow day since the day care follows the public school closures.

On the one hand, three snow days in one week is a lot, but on the other hand, I was kind of glad that I had a bit of relief from the anxiety of sending my kids back to the COVID germ pool that is school.

Fun food discovery:
I’ve started making a Dutch Baby for breakfast on those days when the kids want pancakes but I have no patience for all the assembling and mixing and making. The Dutch baby batter comes together quickly in the blender and then cooks up super fast, all in one skillet. Bring the skillet to the table and everyone have at it. So much quicker than pancakes.

What We Ate:

Monday: Green bean and tofu stir fry.

Tuesday: Black Bean tacos. Basically a can of black beans, warmed up with half cup salsa. Eaten on tortillas.

Wednesday: Lentil Quinoa bowls with Roasted Broccoli.

Thursday: Cod cakes (from Dinner Illustrated) with roast asparagus and potatoes.

Friday: pizza (the husband made) and The Muppet Movie. It was the baby’s turn to choose so we each picked a movie from our DVD collection, lined them up in a row and let her pick one. I have to admit, while I find The Muppet Movie hilarious, I have yet to stay awake for the whole thing. Funny story – the Husband used to watch this movie with the nine year old, and everytime the movie got to that bit in the middle where the projector “broke”, he would turn it off and say, “Oh no! I guess that’s the end of the movie.” It took her a while to figure out that there was a whole other rest of the movie that she hadn’t seen yet.

January Challenge # 6 – a tasty bite

Think of a recipe or dish that is important to you and your family or culture. Share the recipe with somebody else, and ask them to share a recipe that is important to them.

Tea eggs are ubiquitous in Taiwan. If you go to 7-11 they will have vats of them, self-serve style, much like American 7-11s have hotdog cases. When I was little, we often had a big batch of tea eggs stewing on the stove. If you look up tea egg recipes, they are often so neat and tidy, delicately made with orange peels, star anise, and bags of tea. The tea eggs my mother made were messy and wild; she made them with loose tea, and as the eggs sat in soy sauce, the tight little dried tea leaves would unfurl, opening into an unkempt tangle that draped over the eggs like seaweed. She also made sure to thoroughly crack the boiled eggs so that they would reveal beautifully marbled spiderweb patterns when unpeeled. There was a kind of brazen imperfection in the pot of cracked eggs, as if they were daring you to judge them by their broke, flawed appearance, when in truths these cracks are what makes a tea egg – the cracks allows the flavor to seep into the egg whites and allow the soy sauce and tea to soak into the beautifully marbled patterns . Most recipes you find online call for letting the eggs sit for an hour or so, but that yields an egg that is beige or light tan. To get the deep brown colour of my childhood, the eggs need to sit… indefinitely. That is also part of the homey quality of tea eggs – they are a constant presence on the stove, always available for when one needs a quick savory protein snack, and filling the kitchen with the warm smell of tea and soy sauce.

When I make tea eggs, I sort of cheat. Primarily because I like my tea eggs slightly more soft boiled than typical. The tea eggs of my childhood always had that faint greenish ring around the yolk, which I always found unappealing. So for my method I make a batch of soft boiled eggs – these day in the instant pot – then I peel them and let them sit in the already cooked soy sauce and tea concoction. This way, it’s more of a marinating process then a stewing process and the eggs don’t continue to cook. You don’t get the beautiful marbled exterior, but it’s a trade off I’m willing to make to have the interior I like. I’ve never been one to value the aesthetics of food over the taste.

I don’t have a specific recipe: Soy sauce, tea, star anise, cinnamon stick if I have it. Toss, stir, steep, smell. It’s a very forgiving recipe. And if it doesn’t taste quite right, I’ve found that leaving the eggs in to steep even longer usually sets things right.

January Challenge #3

Today’s challenge is part of “We Are Connected” and has been inspired by all sorts of ideas that were sent to us, and that came out of creative workshops. So, although this idea is from us at 64 Million Artists – really it’s a little bit of a lot of people’s imagination – just like the challenge.
What does the word ‘Connected’ mean to you? Find a small piece of paper, a post-it or the back of an envelope. This piece of paper is your blank canvas! Use it to capture the images, stories or memories that you associate with the word connected. It might capture your connection to a friend, a family member, nature, a hobby, a memory…anything goes