February is not my favorite

In spite of Valentine's Day, Joybear's birthday, and being the month in which Muffin and I got engaged, it has never been my favorite time of year. The weather is weird--80 one day and 35 the next. Windy enough to blow the fence down one day and perfect the next. And musically speaking there is not usually much happening. But this year has found me planning and going and doing one thing after the other. My studio participated in theory testing early in the month. This week most of the students are playing solos in a festival, which just means it's a judged event for them and lots of paper work and accompanying for me, but is a good measuring tool for year to year progress. And the symphony has a pops concert--all Broadway--this weekend. Plus the quartet is playing a reception between the last afternoon symphony rehearsal and the concert that night.

And there is the Bible study--Esther: It's Tough being a Woman. The homework intrigues me and I spend several hours on it some days. Esther (the book) has no mention of God in it. Esther has many hidden aspects of God's nature, however. Esther, the queen, hid her identity as a Jewess for several years. Do you see a pattern here? Hidden things?

Well, February is more fun this year--busier, educational, challenging, and best of all offered a free weekend for visiting the GrandTwins, JB, CB, and Kak. Wish we could see Jbear and Gracie and their parents too. Then, if I could celebrate Joybear's birthday with her in person, it would be perfect.

Friends in Need

I haven't felt like blogging. We know lots of people with deep needs and mostly I have prayed. Two of my dear sisters in my Reunion Group have had a very difficult week. K's sister went home to be with the Father this week after six years of battling cancer. Peggy's sister entered into a new phase of dementia, unable to swallow, and her sister and brother are making life support decisions. An engineer with whom my husband worked and was in a meeting only a week ago, passed away early in the week. The man who owns the copy shop I use lost his 22 year old daughter to a kidney transplant failure. And in mid week I learned that a sweet student I taught from sixth grade to high school graduation had a great tragedy. Her single mother took her own life, leaving behind two daughters, a son, and two grandchildren, as well as a grieving sister and her family.

Father God, bless these dear ones with peace, with comfort, and with strength and wisdom to move in your kingdom. Speak to their hearts and sing over them in the dark places. May they have the mind of Christ in all things. May they fall in love with you all over again and become your dearest friends. May they hear you speak to them and teach them the Way to go. In Jesus' name.

Bullies and Freedom

When I was in high school I was in a daily situation in an orchestra where I was frequently intimidated by another student or by the director. If I were making a Hollywood movie I would call them "bullies". The technique was simple: tell me whatever was necessary to make me back off as a competitor. Tell me whatever necessary to make me feel less than prepared, adequate, musical, intelligent, acceptable... You get the picture. Intellectually I knew exactly what was happening, but emotionally, I eroded. The result is that I would either freeze up or make mistakes, neither of which would happen when I practiced alone. Amazing, the power of words and intimidating actions!

For a couple of years the symphony orchestra in which I play has used a rotating seating system for all string players behind the front stands of principle players. Last weekend I was seated with a young college student who essentially either ignored me or tried to intimidate me with his unprofessional attitude and actions. Amazingly, I felt like that 15-18 year old high school student again and began making mistakes in passages that I knew I could play--with a metronome--up to performance tempo. It didn't help that the odor of tobacco was so strong that my allergies were flaring. After the third rehearsal in these circumstances, I began to really think. I thought about my reactions. I thought about how I KNEW that I could actually play the music. I thought about how many times I had actually performed this music with this orchestra and other orchestras. I thought about the fact that I had as much right to sit there and to play well as anyone else did.

After some prayer and saying "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me" about 50 times, I played a decent concert. More importantly, after yesterday's sermon from our pastor who talked about letting go of past sins and baggage, I did. Let go of the baggage, I mean. Being intimidated by bullies and receiving it as it is intended, is the same as believing a lie. Listening to, and believing lies is the same thing Adam and Eve did, right? So it's a choice, right? So I choose to stop believing that I am less than prepared, less than intelligent, less than musical, and less than what I know God has made me to be. I also choose to ask that I may have a different stand partner for future concerts, because I know that is the correct choice. And I feel free!

Cushy Job

These people post their hours as M-F, 8-5. Twice in the past week we have gone to the IRS office to fetch forms that are not available in the hall on the form rack. The first time it was 4:30 p.m. Office closed. Second time it was 1:02 p.m.. Office closed. I barged my way into the office next door just as an IRS employee was leaving. She actually blocked my path from entering and asked if she could help me. Yes, I said. I need forms and the office next door is rarely open. Well, she said, they take 30 minutes in the morning to open the office before opening to the public. Then they go to lunch from 1-2 p.m. and take 30 minutes before closing to close their office without the public. Is this information posted nearby, I asked? No. That's the only answer I received. Someone has a cushy job, methinks.

Twisted Marmee had a Half Cow

This is me, Aunt Rhody, or Marmee if you prefer to call me by my grandparent name, doing an easy yoga pose. For the past three years I have gone to Body Flow classes by Les Mills, and to be a bit 'punny', it's quiet a stretch for me. These classes are mostly attended by 20something ladies, many of them lifetime athletes. There are also a few 30-40 year olds in great condition, a few in every age bracket who are far from well conditioned athletic form, and then there are the Mature Marvels like me. You may be surprised to learn that sometimes over half the class is filled with men, ranging from 20's to 60's. One of the instructors is male, the others are female. Three of the instructors are married, two have given birth to two children each. The guy who teaches is also a full time high school teacher--English, not PE. All of these people are incredibly strong and flexible. My body has played a violin for over 50 years and my torso is shaped around a violin. It's a little bit like the Asians who bind their daughters' feet when they are babies so they will grow small and shaped to fit those itty bitty shoes. Only it's my arms, shoulders and ribs.

In addition to my funky violin curved torso I've had left knee surgery twice and an additional injury to same mentioned knee. Last spring I had a diagnosis resulting in 4 weeks of physical therapy for my lower back and my neck.

It's a little twisted, but I can do the pose above with no problem. On a good day.

This is one of my favorites, usually done at the end of hip opening stretches, or after hamstring stretches. It's Happy Baby Pose. Really! If you close your eyes as the model is doing, no one can see you in this awkward position.

Side Angle Pose is one I can actually accomplish for some odd reason. Just replace the body and subsitute wild curly silver hair for the ponytail and you'll have me pictured perfectly.

This is definitely not me, but I can do this. It's Warrior One. Sometimes if my yoga mat is not exactly at a right angle to the planks in the floor, I get disoriented, however.

The photo above is how I do a plank most of the time. It's a "Girl Plank" I guess.
That's OK. I was a girl once.

This fotosearch model can do a REAL Plank. On a good day, so can I!

This is Crow Pose. This one has never happened for me, but a surprising number of people in my classes accomplish this easily and hold it with confidence. I'm happy if I can do a Hindi Squat to replace this.

At the risk of seeming arrogant, let me say that I look JUST LIKE THESE PHOTOS below when I do the following three poses. Except...I'm not thin and my hair hasn't been this color for the past 30 years, and I birthed four children. But other than that, I'm absolutely just the same in Forward Fold, Tree on One Leg, and Warrior Two.

This is one of the poses I do best. I look just like this in Staff Pose..except my hair isn't blonde and I'm not thin and I don't wear a sports bra and mini shorts when I go to class. So, except for the white hair and extra pounds and T shirt and baggy pants, I look exactly like this. Really!

The following poses, Side Plank and Bow, almost kill my little violin-playing wrists and grumpy lower back. My doctor actually forbids me to do Bow.

See, even these guys have to tag team to get it accomplished. And they are not in the "Mature" age group .

This is the pose that is defeating me. The lovely lady below is doing Cow Face. Notice her perfect knees, folded over one another to form a cow face? See the faint hint of a smile on her face? My face looks absolutely nothing at all like that when I attempt this pose.

This is called Half Cow. It produces light cream, 1/2% milk, and smooth, creamy thighs when perfectly executed. Mine are not anywhere near that. Neither is the expression on my face.

When a man does Cow Pose, do we stil call it Cow? Or is it Bull Pose? I look just like this! Except for the hairy legs, topless chest, perfectly crossed knees. And I DO clench my fists but I managed to keep my head on so I can grimace in pain.

Well, the motto of many of the instructors is to feel a bit longer and stronger at the end of class and I can testify that I do, even though I'm not a Crow, or a Lady Plank, or a whole Cow. I'm still a whole Marmee, Twisted and Half Cow.

Delicious Disaster

Every Monday at noon our Emmaus Reunion Group meets for lunch/sharing/prayer. On the Monday closest to a member's birthday we celebrate with cake and candles and a few small gifts. It gets a little crazy from time to time with Peggy's penchant for trick candles, those that rekindle themselves after being blown out. And the cards and gifts range from personal to goofy to downright sappy. But we have fun! Yesterday we enjoyed Amy's birthday celebration and I offered to bring the cake. The cake pictured above is NOT that cake.

I was really excited about this cake. Her favorite is white cake with buttercream frosting--just like a wedding cake. Key lime pies are a close second. Anyway, I found a perfect recipe for both white cake and buttercream frosting and enthusiastically set up my kitchen, softened the butter, whipped the egg whites, prepared the pans, sifted the flour with the baking powder and salt and set out the milk. I only had soy milk, but I've baked with it before and all was well.

The egg whites more than quadrupled in volume and even when folding them into the batter they tripled the total volume of the batter. I should have been forewarned. I wasn't. I had a minor mishap while preparing the egg whites and managed to keep yolk out of the unbeaten whites, so I thought my troubles were over. The batter was so smooth and creamy and just to be cautious I filled three, rather than two pans and smoothed it all out perfectly. About 10 minutes before the prescribed baking time was finished, I took a peek inside the oven.

The two stainless steel pans looked like they contained souffle. The batter had risen more than two inches above the rim of the pans! It was a giant disaster waiting to happen. By the time I could unlock my legs the batter started to deflate, since I had the oven door wide open. And then it began to overflow the rims into the bottom of the oven. The batter began to burn immediately and then the smoke alarm started to beep, which made Scooter the Sheltie crazy. With two pans overflowing around the edges, the centers began to sink. I shut the oven door cautiously and decided to cut my losses and let the cake finish baking, both in the pans and on the floor of the oven. Nasty!

Removing the cakes from the oven, I decided they could be salvaged if I trimmed the layers carefully and made extra frosting for filling between the layers. I allowed the cakes to cool and turned out the "extra", baked in a disposable foil pan. It looked fine. Then I turned out the first of the two baked in my best pans, and over 30% of the cake stayed in the pan, and I don't mean in a nice triangle wedge either. It came out in chunks. But they were seriously tasty chunks! So, I waited a bit longer for the third cake to cool, hoping it would be perfect, but no. It was sticking in the middle of the pan. Tally: one semi perfect layer, two that rose to great heights, fell to a crater-like center with edges that resembled chef's hats over the edges of the pans.

I thought perhaps as the cakes cooled they would trim out evenly and I could cover a multitude of sins with frosting. By this time I had burned batter in the oven. Cake crumbs on the counter tops and the floor. A sink full of dishes. Egg drippings on another counter top. Pans and sieves and ingredients and more butter softening on another counter.

I began creaming the butter for the frosting and it was beautiful. Added a bit of powdered sugar and watched it fluff. Added a tiny bit of cream, a teaspoon each of vanilla and almond flavoring and reached for the final cup of powdered sugar. I don't know if I just klutzed out and missed my timing, or if the sugar spilled into the bowl before I could adjust the mixer speed, or if I just bumped the side of the bowl before I turned the speed to it's lowest setting. But the sugar hit the frosting in the bowl at high speed and suddenly there was a fountain, a column, a geyser eruption of powdered sugar going straight up to my ceiling. It covered all the pans, ingredients, cabinet doors, counter tops, floor, fruit and veggies, and me. Sugar dusted the Venetian blinds, the window and its sill, the stove top and the counter behind me. Scooter was having a buffet off the floor.

With my delicious frosting in hand I wielded a spatula and began spreading the bottom layer with buttercream. It seemed too thick to spread. So I returned it to the mixer and added a bit more cream. This consistency was perfect. But the cake was so soft and crumbly that it would NOT spread evenly. I tried and trimmed and tried and crumbled and tried and finally I decided Amy deserved a beautiful cake and United bakery would be just the ticket. I took the frosting and made a two layer cake wreck and an additional lopsided one layer frosting blob and served a giant piece to Muffin. Two hours later the kitchen was clean and the dishwasher running. The wreck is absolutely delicious.

Monday morning I called the bakery and reserved a white cake with buttercream frosting. Then I made coffee. When I removed the creamer from the refrigerator I noticed that an avocado in the fridge had powdered sugar all over it.

Historic Day

When I was a little girl, born at the half century mark, I remember thinking that 2000 was so far away that I surely would not be alive. Could not possibly live to be that old! I grew up in a culture still influenced by Southern customs, where our town had a section called "n-town" and my schoolmates spoke Spanish in their homes and struggled to learn to read English. We traded biscuits and warm tortillas, wrapped in foil after being freshly buttered, outside the school door on our poorly equipped playground early in the morning. Our teachers were all Caucasian, had little training in teaching reading as a second language, cross cultures, or special needs children. They did the best they could with the knowledge they had, but were totally unprepared for the changes on the horizon.

Graduating in 1968 I witnessed first hand the violent changes and difficult birth process of freedom for people of color. I honestly did not know what to think of Dr. Martin Luther King. I detested the marches and demonstrations, but wanted equal rights and thought people should just shut up and act normal all over the South, not comprehending the depths of emotions or the depth of injustice on either side. I suppose I thought everyone would just straighten up and treat each other equally if the right authority told them they had to "be nice". Yesterday I read Dr. King's Letter from the Birmingham Jail, and I was so deeply moved. How could I have ever understood unless I had watched my own children turned away from playgrounds, shops, buses, stores? MLK was a man of great intelligence, deep conviction, prophetic vision, and most of all, great, great, godly courage.

His "I have a dream" speech from the Lincoln Memorial is today completed on the other end of the National Mall on the steps of the Capitol.

Not only am I alive to see this historic event, but I have walked on the steps of both buildings. I am so blessed! Although my political views have differed greatly from those of our new President, I admire his courage in making the journey on the road laid for him by Dr. King.

Our Joy and Mike had tickets for the inauguration in the standing section, given to them by the Senator for whom she works. At 8:00 a.m. she emailed from her Blackberry that they were at a standstill in the tremendous crowd and were unable to see ahead to the problem. There they stood at 1st and D Streets, tickets in hand, for more than two hours. Whether the problem was the long lines for security or just a mass of humanity that prevented movement, when they saw a break in the crowd, they decided to cut and run. They are in a warm Senate building office watching a TV.

May God protect and give wisdom to the new President. May no weapon formed against him prosper and the fear of the Lord be the beginning of his wisdom.