Company’s Here!

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Rattlesnake

We had an uninvited guest drop in on us this week-end.

And the party in question promptly took care of the mouse problem we’d had in our compost bin. And it wasn’t this guy below.

It was this guy:

And for some reason, he was really ticked when we asked him to leave and got all punk teenage bad-boy on us when we did.

In fact he was downright angry. Sabres drawn, rattles blazing.

Sorry, dude.

I guess we’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.

 

 

 

 

Related articles

• Reports of rattlesnake bites in Arizona on rise (azstarnet.com)

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A cup of Chai? Why yes, I think so.

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Tea

Things in the desert are cooling down. Moderately. It doesn’t really feel like Fall, especially if you’re used to trees turning outrageous colors or the nip of frost on the pumpkin.

That doesn’t happen here in October.

But, the nights gets cool, if not down right chilly and we wake up in the morning with some kind of anticipation of something, even if we end up playing in the sprinklers in the afternoon and sucking on popsicle.

So with this in mind, I present what I whipped up on a recent pretend-Fall morning.

When I was in between university and high school, I spent a summer working as a barista at this local coffee place on the old main street of the town where I grew up. The kind of place with sagging couches, poetry readings on Tuesday night and folk jams on Saturdays. Best summer job ever. At the time, though, I didn’t drink coffee. But I’d drink chai, and a few weeks ago, I started having cravings for it. Not that iced stuff that you get at Starbucks, with frappé whatever, but nice, hot chai tea.

So I made some. And this is what I did:

1/2 tsp ground cardamom (or 8 cardamom seeds)

8 cloves

4 black peppercorns

2 cinnamon sticks

1 1-inch pice of fresh ginger, sliced

2 cups milk, 2% or whole (but not skim)

4 bags Darjeeling

Sugar, to taste (or honey, if you prefer)

Crush cardamom, cloves and peppercorn with a mortar and pestle or with a rolling-pin and a heavy plastic bag. If I was doing it again, I’d prefer a little less pepper flavour, so I might leave them whole. Place crushed spices, cinnamon sticks, ginger, milk+2 cups of water in a saucepan and bring to just a boil. Add tea bags, cover and let steep for about 10 minutes. Strain into cups. Add sugar to taste (I used over a tsp per cup, but you might want more).

The Verdict: Fragrant and comforting. A good straining method is imperative so you don’t feel like you’re swallowing bark with your tea. I’m not sure how authentic this is, but it work for a chai fix.

 

 

Anatomy of a Recital, Part 4

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Money, Recital

Recitals are not cheap. Especially when you’re not getting paid to do them.

On the other hand, how many people on the planet actually get paid to do a horn recital? Outside of a university setting? Maybe a handful. Maybe less than that.

So I thought it might be good for me and general populace (read: my school, financial aid people or anybody else getting ready to do this) to actually look at the cost breakdown, line by painful line.

Pianist – $250 (The ever-fabulous Michael Dauphinais. This included all of the rehearsal time and the actual recital.)

Venue – $125 (I chose an outside venue, but the is what is would have cost me to use one of the halls at the school of music.)

Dress – $91 (on sale from $300!)

Posters – $3.50

Programs – $11.50 (I made colour ones for my committee, my school portfolio and my own personal file; the rest were black and white.)

Gas – $40 (There were two occasions that I had to come up to school from where I live that weren’t my normal school days.)

Babysitter – $30

In ‘n’ Out Burger – $10 (I didn’t eat a lot before so I was pretty ravenous afterwards.)

TOTAL: $561

Holy cow! This is in addition to tuition and fees. In this economy.

Where could I have saved money? I could have done an entire recital without accompaniment. And it would have been depressing, awful, somewhat boring and really tiring. I also could have used a classroom at school instead of a hall or the church that I ended up using and that would have been free. And depressing, unprofessional and clinical. I could have skipped the posters. I could have gotten my husband to stay home with the little people instead having his presence and support. The programs are a part of my requirement (although not an official one, I might add) but I could have skipped the colour versions.

So now that I’m thoroughly depressed, let’s look on the bright side. This could have been a whole lot more expensive.  So, where did I save money? By having a fabulous pianist who was prepared and professional, as well as being someone that I musical “gel” with, I saved myself some rehearsal time. The dress, kind of. I wasn’t originally looking for a dress so I did overspend my shirt budget of about $50, but it was WORTH EVERY PENNY. So compared to the original price of the dress, yes I saved. I’m going to go with that. Other saving? My posters and the photography for them and my program. I wasn’t going to do any of it and then I got persuaded that it would a god idea. I took (or set up up) my own pictures and did my own editing. I had a sweet friend print my posters out for me at the Honors’ College on campus (it’s only for undergrads, but she bent the rules for me a bit) and it was only $0.25 for each colour page. I also borrowed a digital recording device from a friend, so I didn’t pay anyone to record the recital, which can get spendy, depending on who does it.

I think I was as “thrifty” as I could have been, with maybe one exception. But honestly, being thrifty wasn’t the point of the exercise. I’d anticipated the costs last spring and set aside some of my gig money for it. But it’s still a little ouchy, all things considered.

UPDATE: I forgot about the $100 worth of music that I bought for the occasion. That brings my total to $661. Zoinks.

Related articles

• Anatomy of a Recital, Part 1 (lifecomposing.wordpress.com)
• Anatomy of a Recital, Part 2 (lifecomposing.wordpress.com)
• Anatomy of a Recital, Part 3 (lifecomposing.wordpress.com)
• Recital Programme (lifecomposing.wordpress.com)

A Leeky Problem

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Chickpea, Leek

I’m not posting about Thanksgiving today because we didn’t have any time to celebrate. I makes me sad that we couldn’t and also tat we couldn’t be with friends and family for turkey and pie. Especially the pie. But we might do a little turkey time next week-end and if we do, there’ll be something delicious posted here on Monday.

We belong to a food co-op and it’s fantastic. But I had deadline fast approaching and the leeks were still in my crisper drawer. Which is to say, I forgot about them until the day before we were supposed to pick up our share of fruits and veg.

So I whipped up a little something to please my inner frugalista and not waste my leeks (or in this case, leek, singular) and feed the little people. I’m lucky enough not to have super picky little people, but little c definitely has more preferences than his older sister. He will eat chickpeas and sweet, green peas, though. And noodles. What 2-year-old doesn’t like noodles?

This is what I came up with:

Leek, Legume and Lemon Thyme pasta

12 oz. short pasta of your choice (I used farfalle – to the little people, they look like bow ties for tiny clowns)

1 cup frozen peas

1 can (or equivalent) chickpeas, drained and rinsed

1 Tablespoon butter

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 leek (2 if you like) cut in half lengthwise, sliced and rinsed.

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

3/4 cup whole milk or heavy cream

Parmesan or pecorino romano, if you prefer

In a pot of boiling, salted water, cook pasta until al dente, adding the peas and chickpeas for the last 2 minutes. Meanwhile, heat the oil  and butter in a large pan. Add leeks and sauté until soft (about 3-5 minutes). Season with salt and pepper. Add the milk/ cream and cook for 2-4 minutes, until reduced slightly. Toss pasta and a little of the pasta water with the cream and leek mixture. Serve with grated parmesan and the lemon thyme sprinkle on top.

The Verdict: Earthy and good. I’d like a little more color, but not bad for using up what I had in the fridge. And the little people ate it up. Winning.

Anatomy of a Recital, Part 3

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Horn, Recital

A lot of people ask any professional musician or teacher how much they should be practicing. The answer? It varies.

This recital was different from the first solo recital I presented last December (less than a year ago – zoinks!). Not just in the content, but in the preparation. I picked my pieces last May and early June. And then I didn’t practice them. Not ever, just for a while.  I just wasn’t in the head space to do it. I was a little (ok a lot) burnt out from the previous semester/season and I just wanted to be home and play with my little people and have folded laundry again.

I’d also sent my horn back to its maker, ostensibly to have the bell cut, but in reality, he basically rebuilt the thing. In the meantime, I played around on a borrowed Kruspe, didn’t spend a lot of time commuting anywhere, built a bookcase and immersed myself in Charlotte’s Web and play dough. Oh, and started this blog.

So it was more like July, maybe even mid-July before I started what I would call actual recital preparation. Around the same time, I started doing some different technical routines and I was also taking a goal-setting course for musicians. So, basically a new horn, a new method of practicing and now new repertoire. It didn’t really occur to me until now, but that’s a lot to mess with just before something like this.

How much time I spent is a really good question. Because I wasn’t keeping track and I have no idea. I do know that I fell into a routine of technique in the morning with pieces and etudes in the afternoon. What I didn’t do this time around is an evening session, until a few weeks before the recital. I probably should have. But I was in a pretty good head space about things, mainly because I found myself day-dreaming about my pieces, pretty much all the time. Being a little older (and possibly wiser?) I physically can’t spend 6 hours with the horn on my face to fix problems. It’s inefficient, physically silly and with the little people running around, I don’t have that kind of time.

The two weeks before the recital was where I really worked my endurance. Endurance prep for me is running the whole program, warts and all, with no breaks, not even for the bathroom. Some people do a version of this where they don’t take the horn off their face, even for a second, but I’m not that extreme. I just tried to create situations that could only be worse than any possible worst-case scenario for the recital. I figured that if I’d already practiced in the morning for 90 minutes, had a lesson and a 45 minute rehearsal in the afternoon and then run my program in the evening without any breaks that it was far worse than what I’d likely do on the day of the recital. Despite all that, I was still in doubt mode in the hours before I played the recital. Would my face give out? What if I didn’t use enough support? Will my legs hold me while I play for that long? At some point, I had to let that all go and just walk on stage.

There was also the non-musical preparation that people in the audience didn’t see. I was back at the gym for the first time in a year, doing cardio to better my lung capacity and lower my heart rate. I’d been doing some goal-setting for the recital and before each practice session. I’d done some visualizing of myself playing the space. The afternoon of the recital, I wrote out a list of affirmations about who I am and my playing and tucked it into my case before I left for the venue. And the sessions with my pianist were so helpful for me to make my musical intentions clearer and brighter.

All this, because time marches on. The countdown was over.

Related articles

• Anatomy of a Recital, Part 1 (lifecomposing.wordpress.com)
• Anatomy of a Recital, Part 2 (lifecomposing.wordpress.com)
• Recital Programme (lifecomposing.wordpress.com)

Anatomy of a Recital, Part 2

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Music, Recital

 

Doing this in chronological order would be too easy. So I won’t.

I started thinking about this recital a while ago. In fact, I started thinking about it shortly after my last recital, a chamber music extravaganza, last April. To some people, that might seem like a lot of time to plan a recital. It’s really not. When I was doing piano stuff in high school, at the very end of my study, it was taking me months and months just to learn a piece. I think it took me almost a year to learn a complete Beethoven Sonata. So four months is pretty snappy.

This first thing I did was to secure my pianist, Michael Dauphinais. He’s ostensibly on faculty at my school, but he really isn’t utilized the way he should be. Why Michael? Because he’s easy to work with, professional, and a lovely, musical pianist. He played for me for my first doctoral recital and it was such a joy to work with him.

The second thing I did was try to find a date that worked for me, my committee of three, Michael and the school at three different halls in two venues. At previous institutions that I’ve attended, there was always a designated period for degree recitals and the faculty gave their availability to scheduling people. So I just go down to the scheduling people and I could pick from there (or, in the case of McGill, they told me when my recital was and that was that). But not here. Sigh. So I did a doodle poll with a bunch of times and places and between the bunch of us, we found a single date (out of about 10, whittled down to 4) which I then immediately booked with my committee, Michael and the venue.

Doodle is both annoying and awesome. Awesome, because you can ask a bunch of people about scheduling. Annoying, because people don’t get back to you all at once and you keep getting an email every time someone finally gets back to you. Kind of like Chinese water torture. And there’s almost always a lone holdout. But I digress.

Since I decided to use an off campus venue, I actually forgot to tell the school until the end of August. Oops. There was a form that everyone on my committee had to sign that approved the music I chose and the date and venue (again) and there was another card that just my supervising professor had to sign so that the school would even know the recital was happening. That was the one I forgot. It’s due 30 days before the recital. I think it waltzed in about 21 days before. They knew about the recital but this was just one of those crossing the “t’s” moments that I’m not always good at/don’t care to remember.

I also had to book the recital venue and I ended up choosing something off campus. Why? The two halls that are available at school don’t have great acoustics – one is too boomy and the other swallows you up (or me at least). The real kicker is that you have to pay for them and it’s not a minimal $25 fee or something. I’ve just gotta say – I really disagree with this. I have to present 4 recitals because of my degree. I have already paid fees and tuition because of my degree (ok, I’ve got scholarships, but there are always some little things that add up). I’m already charged an extra fee for lessons because of my degree. One would think they’d let you use the hall in the school that you’ve paid tuition and a pint of blood to attend for the recitals that you need to present BECAUSE OF THE DEGREE.

Anyhow, I chose an Episcopalian church used to having chamber music concerts and recitals. It’s fairly close to campus. They’ve got a nice Baldwin grand in there (never thought I’d say that about a Baldwin, but there’s a first time for everything) and the staff at Grace-St. Paul’s was lovely to work with.

Not too much visual clutter and the only thing I really needed to think about was where I was going to stand. I did my first recital for my DMA here, so it was almost comforting. That help, the comforting bit, when you’re under stress. I’d imagine these things get worse when you don’t know what you’re walking into. You control what you can and this was something over which I had a say. And there’s a built-in fence there in case anybody in the audience gets rowdy and rushes the stage.

Hey. It could happen!

Related articles

• Anatomy of a Recital, Part 1 (lifecomposing.wordpress.com)
• Recital Programme (lifecomposing.wordpress.com)

 

Will it chip?: Part 3

I promise at some point I will get to non-leafy green things, but for now I’m doing an exhaustive study.

Collard greens.

Hmmmhave I ever had collard greens in my house? ‘Round ’bout these parts, we eat pretty healthy. Kale, spinach, mustard greens, swiss chard. But collards? I’d always understood them to be a south of the Mason-Dixon line sort of thing. I’m from north of 40. So there you go

Upon further examination, I decided to use the slow and low method that I’ve perfect with my Tuscan kale. And this is what came out:

Washed and dry (thoroughly!), tear into chip-sized pieces and toss with olive oil. Spread over parchment, sprinkle a bit of sea salt and roast at 250F for about 30-35 minutes.

Verdict: Still awesome. They have more of a nori/seaweed texture to them than the kale or brussels sprouts and a slightly nuttier flavor while being really delicate. Yay!