Scout Moves

I'm going on a cruise. I'll be back in a week or so with plenty of stories and maybe a picture or two. Happy new year to you all.

I am about to head south to spend Christmas with my mother and sisters and their families. I can't wait for that cornbread dressing and turkey and card playing and laughter and singing in the kitchen. If you would like to read about how we have traditionally celebrated Christmas, you can find it here . Merry Christmas to all.

Werner von Trapp in 1915. He's on the right in the photo. Werner was the second son of Georg Ritter von Trapp of The Sound of Music fame. Werner, portrayed as Kurt in the musical, traveled with the Trapp Family Singers until the family stopped performing some time after their father's death. He became a naturalized US citizen, served in the army during WW2, founded a music school in Pennsylvania, and became a dairy farmer in Vermont. He retired in 1979 and took up spinning and crocheting, seriously. Werner died just this past October 17th. So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, good night I hate to go and leave this pretty sight So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, adieu Adieu, adieu, to yieu and yieu and yieu So long, farewell, au revoir, auf wiedersehen I'd like to stay and taste my first champagne So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, goodbye I leave and heave a sigh and say goodbye -- Goodbye! I'm glad to go, I cannot tell a lie I flit, I float, I fleetly flee, I fly The

I am overwhelmed. We are having some work done in our master suite—new floors, new shower, new countertops with new sinks. I came home one day to find the old sinks carefully set among the landscaping rocks, and for a moment I contemplated keeping them there. What do you think? We have had builder types in and out of this house for weeks now. Currently, there is one guy putting down the floor, one guy doing odds and ends, and two guys stripping the treads on the stairs. Earlier there were two guys delivering mattresses, and they all knew each other from way back. I felt like I was intruding. Yesterday there was a plumber, and the day before a guy installing marble counters. There is so much dust in my house, I have to step outside just to catch my breath. Well, at least the cats are enjoying the drop cloths and leaving their tracks all over the place.

This is the last of the few Vince Guaraldi arrangements I can play from A Charlie Brown Christmas. If you are new to my recordings, let me lower expectations for you—I don't record my music because I think I'm good. I record it because I like to play things like the piano and the recorder. I haven't figured out how to record the French horn yet, but when I do, look out. I think more people should make music of some kind or another. Just because we all can't have degrees in music or we don't make a living from it doesn't mean we should shy away from enjoying all that it brings. So, in the spirit of Charlie Brown, always searching for happiness and purpose, here is me being happy and purposeful while sloppily playing What Child Is This:

One of my favorite features of Small Town's newspaper is the 30 Seconds column. I have mentioned it before—you can call anonymously and leave a voice mail message about anything you want to say as long as you aren't foul and you don't call someone a son of a bitch. Quite often, people call to gripe about or praise the syndicated columnists on the editorial page. Some people like Cal Thomas, some people think he's a hypocritical pig. Some people love Maureen Dowd, and some people think she is venomous and imbalanced. People form their opinions of the editorial writers based on their political and religious leanings, and they can be very black and white when they decide who to agree with. But one 30 Seconds comment showed so much insight and thoughtfulness, I was proud to be a citizen of Small Town. The caller complained that some of the columnists use words that were too big and unfamiliar. "We are simple townfolk here," he said, or maybe it was a she. "W

Small Town has a small dance school on the second floor of an old building on Main Street. There is a flower shop below named Blossoms that has painted its outside yellow with a lovely awning, and there used to be a pool hall next door that has gone out of business. Since I didn't open a cheesecake shop in my friend's old yarn shop, maybe I can start fantasizing about opening one next door to Blossoms. Anyway, every year about this time, the dance school performs The Nutcracker in The Little Theater, but they have now moved their production to the auditorium of a local college. It has become a tradition for Daughter No. 2 and I to go to the ballet, and we went just a few days ago. It was lovely as always. Clara was played by No. 2's friend, and the girl was perfect. I lifted this picture from Small Town's newspaper, and it shows another girl playing Clara during a different performance (they take turns), but the idea is the same. Two days later, my orchestra performed i

Nostradamus, born in 1503. It's difficult to find a consensus on even the basics about his life—some people think he received his doctorate from a medical school, but some people think that school expelled him for being an apothecary, a manual trade which was not permitted in the world of higher education. Some people think he was extraordinary in healing those afflicted with the Plague, but others think he was a dismal failure, trying out all kinds of treatments that failed. Some people think he was a prophet, but others think he wrote and often plagarized his jumbled quatrains cryptically so as not to be persecuted by the Church. When his books were translated into English, often incorrectly, they made even less sense and are all too easy to misinterpret. Whatever you think about the wacky guy, you have to give him credit for staying power. I guess we all just wish we could see into the future just a little. I wonder if he predicted that?

There I was sitting at my desk...minding my own business...listening to some Christmas music...drinking a little coffee...when I got an email from JJill. They've got a sale, and they just wanted me to know in case there was something I wanted. Of course there was something I wanted. I always want something from JJill. The nearest store is an hour and a half away, so I usually order from the catalog, and I get a catalog from JJill almost as often as I get one from Victoria's Secret. I could build a house with the trees used to print those things. A big house. Lovely chocolates. I look at JJill the same way I look at a plate of fresh chocolate chip cookies or a bag of Ghirardelli. One piece won't hurt, but before you know it, you have one-pieced it until you have eaten a whole week's work of cookies and candy. I could easily buy "just one" thing from a JJill catalog so often that I would need to rent a storage unit to hold my wardrobe, so I try to pace myself, l

Last year around this time, after mailing out my Christmas cards, I sang The Christmas Song for you as a kind of blogpal holiday greeting. This year, I have played it on the piano in Charlie Brown fashion. It might be best if you don't listen to the Vince Guaraldi recording first as I have made a few mistakes...not to mention that I tend to make up my own rhythms and follow my own tempo. When my daughters and I sit down to play our horns together, they can never watch the "beat" I tap with my foot because it often has nothing to do with the actual music we are trying to make. Merry Christmas anyway.

You might wonder what the two have in common—Christmas concerts and submissive puppies. I'll tell you. My orchestra is performing it's Christmas concert this coming weekend, and we sat through our first rehearsal last night. Because this is a light pops concert, we only have three rehearsals. Honestly, we could do with four. As is tradition, the second half of the concert will be performed with a children's chorus made up of at least 80 kids all dressed in black and white and fidgety. In the horn section, some of us think they are darlings, and some of us think they are a nuisance. It's always a debate—they're so cute—no they aren't—yes they are—no they aren't. This year, the first half of the concert will be performed with Divine Hope, a gospel group from Akron. Most of their music has been orchestrated, but we all end up being background no matter what we play. On our own we'll be performing a new piece composed by our conductor, and a few of the brass

Over the weekend, we went to a benefit concert for a local charity. It was a variety show of Christmas music, and Daughter No. 2 performed with her steel drum band. It was a lovely and festive evening with a choir, a brass ensemble, soloists, and an interpretive dance team. Afterwards, husband and I stood in the lobby for what felt like hours while the steel band loaded their equipment back into the truck, and we waved and said "hello" to everyone we knew. I do love being part of a community. As the door to the truck was shut, I walked back into the auditorium to find No. 2, and I stood at the back of the near-empty room watching the stage. Out of no where, it seemed, a little girl about four or five years old walked down the aisle toward me looking like a snow elf in her coat and hat and scarf. There was no one else around, so I looked down at the cherub and smiled. She stopped in front of me and said "hello." I thought she would keep going, but she was planted th

Miz Minka has written a lovely post about a Christmas tradition she grew up with in Germany—Saint Nicholas Day. Where I grew up, traditions were built around December 24th and 25th with no thought to what went on in other cultures on other days. When I was little I really did believe Santa Claus flew around the world all in one night because I thought everyone celebrated the same way I did. Now, of course, I know not everyone does celebrate Christmas the same way or even celebrates at all, so I have a better understanding of how Santa is able to deliver so many presents in one night. I grew up about an hour from Chicago, and every year about this time the grade school teachers would shove us all on buses with our sack lunches and permission slips from home and take us to The Museum of Science and Industry. It is an amazing place year round, but at Christmas, it is magic. The museum exhibits a hall of decorated trees representing countries from around the world. It began in the 40s as a

...and I never win anything. The other day I won all kinds of life points while playing Life with my daughters, but in real life, when money and prizes actually changes hands, I am the one who throws the losing ticket in the trash, grumbling about how I never win. This is me—entering a contest to win books in the Teeny Manolo sweepstakes. Note: I didn't win. I told you so.

Get a load of the spider I found on the lamp at my piano. When I sit down to play, I thoughtlessly reach inside the shade to turn on the light, and then reach in again to turn it off when I'm finished. It doesn't occur to me that I should look in there first because there might be a spider spinning a web that could snare a rabbit. It doesn't occur to me that an eight-legged creature might look at my lamp shade and think it would make the perfect spot to lay enough eggs to furnish the planet with spiders for ages. I don't know how long the spider was living there or how many times I had unknowingly placed my hand just inches from a thing that frightens me more than other living thing on the planet. On one hand, I think no harm done. On the other hand, now I can't turn on the lamp without stooping down awkwardly and craning my neck so I can see up inside the lamp shade before turning on the lamp. And when I play the piano, I occasionally glance up at the shade to make

Small Town has put on another spectacular Christmas parade. Hundreds of people lined the route as dozens of entries passed by—lighted floats, children's dance teams, the local National Guard Amory, the mayor, the marching band, and Santa on a sleigh. The float above, with the flowing fountain, is from the bank where I keep my cash. There was a dancing Ronald McDonald doing his hip-hop moves in his big red shoes, a group of dogs wearing bright pink T-shirts to represent a local animal hospital, a few horses followed by people with shovels and buckets, various queens waving that weird open-palm queen wave, the local soap-box derby club, and so much more. I met a girlfriend at this event, and we had a great time drinking coffee from My Favorite Place for Joe and catching the odd piece of candy that was tossed in our direction. I don't remember who sponsored this float, but it was full of people sitting among big penguins, and it was very well made. This float was sponsored by my l

A sigh of relief, a project completed, phew. I finished NaBloPoMo and didn't miss a day. When I first started blogging over a year ago, I had no problem posting every day and would sometimes even post two or three entries on any given day depending on my level of motivation and inspiration. But doing something willingly and being forced to do it changes the nature of the project. And completing the job that is required feels a lot different when you're finished, like the pressure is off. The thing with NaBloPoMo is that it's voluntary, and the consequences of missing a day really are minimal. So you can't win a prize in the end. Big deal. It won't look bad on a resume if you don't complete NaBloPoMo. Your reputation won't be tarnished. It just seems like a job once you sign up. It just seems like something that is required, and now that it's over, even though I enjoyed myself, I welcome December when I post when I want to and take break when I choose. D

A Charlie Brown Christmas is my all-time favorite holiday treat, and the music has a lot to do with that. In honor of today being December 1, and since I have already been listening to Christmas music for over a week, here is one of the easier tunes to play from the Vince Guaraldi sound track. I left in the sound of the page turn so you could feel like you're sitting in my music room while I play--I left in the odd notes for the same effect. Christmas time is here Happiness and cheer Fun for all that children call Their favorite time of the year Snowflakes in the air Carols everywhere Olden times and ancient rhymes Of love and dreams to share Sleigh bells in the air Beauty everywhere Yuletide by the fireside And joyful memories there Christmas time is here We'll be drawing near Oh, that we could always see Such spirit through the year Oh, that we could always see Such spirit through the year...