Red Nose

Hallelujah

I'm sitting on the sofa listening to Handel's Messiah.

It was years before I knew that there was much much more to Messiah than the Hallelujah Chorus. When I did find out, it was like I'd been given a present. I love this music so much.

My first inkling that there was more to the piece was in high school. I was an alto in the glee club, and we sang a few of the choruses for our Christmas concert: Oh Thou Who Givest Good Tidings to Zion, For Unto Us a Child Is Born, and (of course!) the Hallelujah Chorus for the big finish. A couple of the girls with really good voices got to do solos; I was not one of them. My favorite of the solos (arias?) is He Shall Feed His Flock.

I used to sing it to SonnyeBoy as a lullaby, so sweet of a tune it is.

Anyhow, one of our assignments was to listen to the entire oratorio. When I did, I was transported.

I have seen Messiah performed live twice, both times at Washington National Cathedral, a fitting place indeed. The combined men's, boy's, and girl's choirs backed up the guest soloists (one year, there was a countertenor!) and the Baroque orchestra played the music. It was sublime.

So on this quiet Christmas, with Joe relaxing downstairs and SonnyeBoy on his way, I am letting the music wash over me and thinking that it is, once again, the best Christmas ever.

Christmas Carols, Mostly

Joe sent me a text message this afternoon that read "Just in case you were wondering, I love you."

This is a very nice message to receive in the middle of a boring afternoon at work.

And then, on the way home, he started up a tape (yes, we still have a cassette player in the car; it's the only one we have!) of Handel's Water Music, which is my favoritest classical music in the whole entire world. Yes, it is. I love Baroque music in general, but Handel is my favorite Baroque composer (sorry, Bach; see ya later, Vivaldi) and the Water Music is my favorite of Handel's compositions, closely followed by Messiah. Yes, all of it; and yes, Hallelujah Chorus is my favorite part of it.

I used to sing He Shall Feed His Flock to SonnyeBoy as a lullaby. (I can't sing worth a damn, but oh, I love that song, so who cares. SonnyeBoy was a baby and he didn't.)

The local classical radio station has started playing the olde carols and I love that too. It kinda makes me wish I still drove to work so that I'd have a chance to listen to them and sing along like an idiot. I love all those carols: The First Noel, Joy to the World, Adeste Fideles, Hark the Herald Angels Sing, Good King Wenceslas, Bring a Torch Jeanette Isabella, and all the others you can name. I sing along and get misty eyed and choked up.

Yes, I do. I am a goofball for Christmas carols.

Years ago when I was living in a big old house in Cleveland Park with a bunch of hippies, I was sitting in the kitchen with two of my housemates. It was Christmastime and we were yakking about carols, and what Larry's choir was going to sing at their recital. Margaret and I started singing O Holy Night, off key and drunkenly (for we had indeed been at the wine), and then Larry opened his mouth and that song spilled out of his skinny body like a flood. His tenor was so beautiful that Margaret and I just sat there, reverent.

I'll never forget that moment -- it was magic.

Not About The Hurricane

Yes, yes, yes... there's a goddamn hurricane bearing down on the east coast. Ocean City is under a mandatory evacuation order, blah blah blah.

I will, no doubt, write about the goddamn hurricane, but not now.

Now I want to talk about how I helped set a new world record!

My great good friend Andrea posted on Facebook about UkeFest 2011 and asked if anyone would like to go with her. Now how, I ask you, can anyone resist going to a ukelele festival?? I couldn't, especially since the main event at the fest was the attempt to break the Guiness world record for simultaneous strumming! The record is 851 ukelele players strumming and singing at once.

So Andrea and I met up at the metro station and hoofed it on over to the festival. The evening was perfect: warm, nice breeze, no bugs. Andrea registered to be counted as a player; I did not, because I did not have and cannot play a ukelele.

While Andrea registered, I scanned the crowd and found two wonderful clowns! Mark Jaster, who is a friend of one of my oldest friends, and Michael Rosman, a fellow Clown College grad. They are both supremely talented! Mark was in character; Michael is a character! (Heh.) If you ever get a chance to see these guys, go!

Andrea and I staked out a spot on the lawn, grabbed some supper from the barbeque shack, and settled in to listen to the various wonderful musicians. They included Cathy Fink and Marcy Marxer, The Sweater Set, and several other ukelele experts. I really loved an amateur ukelele group called The Riders, a group of seniors ages 68 through 94. They were great!

The crowd got bigger and bigger, but would there be enough strummers to breat the record?? The emcee kept encouraging folks to register, yet it seemed like we would fall short. There were 452 registered; there were 602 people registered! It was almost time, oh no!

 Andrea kept encouraging me to sign up, but first I would have to buy a ukelele. And wouldn't you know it? The House of Musical Traditions (a wonderful area music store) had ukeleles for sale, including beginner ukes for the princely sum of $40.

I caved -- it didn't take much, if I'm honest. I trotted over to the table, picked out a candy apple red number (no metal flake, alas!), forked over my cash, and registered. Andrea tuned up the uke and gave me a crash course in three chords: C, F, and G7. Those were the only chords I needed to play the two required songs.

Finally, the announcement! Did we have enough players??

YES! We had a grand total of 944 registered players!

Now it was time to strum. I did my best, but I'm glad there were so many other players there to drown out my clumsy attempt to play. At any rate, we played enthusiastic versions of This Land Is Your Land and Aloha O'e.

So yeah, I helped break a record! And I own a candy apple red ukelele -- luckily, I can take lessons starting in September.

 

I Wish I Had Been There

Courtesy of the amazingly lovely and talented Weetabix, I bring you the joy of the season. I am a sobby mess right now, but it is the good kind of sobby, for a change.

Fifteen Perfect Minutes

It was a busy, busy morning preparing a new course for its internal debut tomorrow. I thought I was done at least three times, only to get "one more change" and "can we put this in" and "fix this screenshot" and nit nit nit nit.

Grrr.

I ate my egg sal san and yogurt lunch at my desk. I had a chat with my boss. I did some more editing and tweaking and email answering. The lead tech guy asked if I could...

Yes, I could.

Finally, along about three o'clock, the requests petered out. I looked out the window at the cloudless sky and decided that I was committing a crime by staying inside on such a beautiful day, so I grabbed my purse and went outside to grab a cupcake and coffee at Starbucks.

As I walked down the steps toward Starbucks, I heard music -- violin and bass playing Mozart, and playing it beautifully.

I sighed; how nice! Then I saw the buskers, two guys set up right in front of my building, right in front of the Metro stop and the Starbucks, serenading the passersby with lovely, lovely music.

I stopped for a second, then got my cupcake and coffee, and then found a seat on the wall in the sun, to listen to the music.

They finished the Mozart and started the most perfect piece that they could have played on a warm, gorgeous day, the most perfect piece for eating a vanilla cupcake and drinking a cup of coffee, Vivaldi's Spring from The Four Seasons.

Am I silly that it made me so happy to be sitting in the sun listening to Vivaldi?

After they finished, I emptied my wallet (three measly bucks) into their bucket and went back inside. They were still there when I left to go home, and I headed for the train to the strains of Pachelbel's Canon.

Ahhhhh.

There Must Be A Dirty Word In There Somewhere

There was a Three Stooges marathon on AMC on New Year's Eve.

I know, I know; the Stooges are crass and violent and stupid and they teach bad things to children and...

I love 'em. Sorry. There it is.

But I digress. 

One of the episodes was called "Violent is the Word for Curly". You might think that's just an extraordinary example of truth in advertising, but it's actually a spoof on a movie called "Valiant is the Word for Carrie".

In one scene, the boys are masquerading as college professors. They proceed to teach the class an alphabet song called Swinging the Alphabet, a catchy little tune that caught my subconscious and held on tight.

So tight that I had one of those middle-of-the-night dream things where all I had to remember that damn song. Once again it stuck with me until I finally had to give in and look it up.

And here it is, for your listening pleasure.

B A Bay, B E Bee, B I bickie bye, bee oh boh...

Hardcore Sunday

After the Nats game on Sunday, we decided to grab dinner at a Silver Spring institution, the Quarry House Tavern. How shall I describe the Quarry House?

One word pretty much says it: dive.

I had been to Quarry House exactly once before in my life; it was 30 years ago and I went with my boyfriend to drink beers. The place has not changed one bit.

Well, the layout, decor, and ambiance have not changed. It's still down a flight of steps, in a dark, slightly dank basement, with two weird, long, narrow rooms in a sort of an J shape. So I cool with that.

When we drove past, we noticed about half a dozen young men loitering around; a couple were wrassling with amps and other band stuff.

We should have taken the hint.

As we clambered down the steps, we noticed a sign on the door: HARDCORE SUNDAY!!

We should have taken the hint.

We wove through the first room -- no tables for four -- and made our way to the back room. A young woman, beguilingly decked out in a black vest over a black bra, drawled beerily, "Are you guys here to see the band?"

"We just want something to eat," I replied, because I wanted to avoid a cover charge, should there be one.

"Oh that's cool, you can sit anywhere," she slurred, waving vaguely toward a table.

We grabbed a table and ordered food and drink -- beers, burgers, BLTs, ice water, coke. The food part of the menu was two pages; the beer part of the menu was six pages.

Okay!

It slowly dawned on us that:

1. We were the only people over 30 (and well over 30 at that!).
2. We were the only people not wearing all black.
3. We were the only people who did have many types of bodily decorations.

Hardcore Sunday. Hmm. We should have taken the hint.

My sister and I located the rest room -- it was behind the biggest amp right by the band... niche. We had to navigate around band... members... and squeeze between the amps to get into the bathroom, but it was well-lit and clean and covered in interesting graffiti.

For example, over the sink:

CALL YOUR MOM!!

On the wall:

For 38 years I never had an orgasm. Then I met Keith.

Way to go, Keith!

Anyway, the food was delish. Really, really good -- my BLT was just about the best I've had in recent memory. So we were lulled.

The crowd started to congregate in the room. Mostly guys, mostly skinny, all in black. The women were also all in black, with pale faces and red lipstick.

Oh, and one of them had a two-year old with her.

Yes. A baby.

In a bar.

Then the standup comedian started. He was very very very... wrong. Extremely poor taste. Outrageously politically incorrect. Scatalogical. Filthy.

And fucking hilarious.

We should have taken the hint.

Right after the comedian came the next band.

The first, uh, chord? Opening note? How can I describe the crushing loudness? It made my teeth vibrate. It made my eyeballs retreat into my brain. It made my feet curl up and my butt clench. It was the loudest thing I have ever heard, and I have been to a John McLaughlin Mahavishnu Orchestra concert!

I could not distinguish instruments or voices or anything. My sister said that the... lyrics... for the first song consisted of "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!" and so on in a similar -- okay, identical -- vein.

Meanwhile, the crowd migrated to the very front of the room, where young men took turns running full tilt into each other and bouncing off the walls.

Literally. I am not even kidding.

We could not talk; it was stupid to even try. We laughed instead. When the first... song... was over, we cracked up. We were so out of our element! God bless you, kids; enjoy it. Turn the amps up to 11, slam dance to your heart's content, get it while you can.

But please find a babysitter next time, okay?

My brother and sister-in-law arrived during the second song. Now, my brother's idea of hard rock is Buddy Holly and the Crickets. Okay, maybe the Rolling Stones.

That was our cue to pay our check, tip our hats to the next generation, and bug out to Tastee Diner.

Post Playoffs Love List

I'm still a little sad that my Capitals got beat down by the Team Who Shall Not Be Named on Wednesday, but there are many many things that I'm loving this Friday.

• I love my team and I love my fellow fans. When two minutes remained in the game and it was clear that a comeback was not in the cards, the entire crowd rose and gave the team a standing ovation for the rest of regulation, through the traditional team handshake, and through the team's raised-stick salute to the fans. It was such a good season, so full of great games. I admit that I got a wee bit misty. See you in the fall, boys!
• I love that it is 8:00 at night and it is still light outside.
• I love New York in June, how about you?
• I love frozen custard, vanilla with chocolate sprinkles.
• I love azaleas in full bloom, especially when they're big and wild rather than trimmed and sculpted.
• I love Sean Connery as James Bond.
• I love penne with sausage.
• I love turning off the alarm clock when I go to bed on Friday night.
• I love getting checks in the mail.
• I love not having to travel for the foreseeable future.
• I love a Gershwin tune; how about you?
• I love Ted.com - "TED" stands for "Technology, Entertainment, Design." The videos on the site are quite wonderful, ranging from scientific inventions, to brilliantly illustrated research on social issues, to witty talks, to wonderful music. Check this one out and go into your weekend smiling.

Sleightly Amazing

Joe showed me this rather wonderful video tonight. It combines two of my most favorite things: sleight of hand magic and Sting's music. Sit back, relax, and prepare to be amazed.

Grey, I Mean, Gray, Friday Love List

Do you ever wonder about the actual correct spelling of "grey"? I mean, is it "grey" or "gray"? Or do I have too much time on my hands?

Never mind. Mr. Google told me that "gray" was the American spelling and "grey" is the British spelling. The best comment was this one:

"Gray" is a color. "Grey" is a colour.

I'm easily amused.

Anyway, it's Friday afternoon, and it's very gray and sort of drizzly, and I've finished everything I have to finish. Time for a Love List!

In spite of the weather and general Novemberishness, I love:

• Having season tickets to the Caps. Tonight's prize: a Bruce Boudreau bobblehead! Let's go Caps!
• Rounding the corner to climb up to our seats and seeing Joe sitting there.
• Coming home to the smell of dinner being cooked. Mmmm.... sausages....
• Gingersnap lattes.
• Thanksgiving.
• Having the day after Thanksgiving off.
• Talking to SonnyeBoy.
• Hearing "President-Elect Obama".
• Grapes and brie cheese.
• Crackers and soup.
• Fleur de Sel caramels from Trader Joe's. Get 'em now! 
• Turning the alarm off before I go to bed on Friday night.
• Jim and Pam.
• C.C. Adcock and Lafayette Marquis -- the band that played at Rene and Arlene's engagement party on True Blood. After hearing them on the show, I immediately looked them up and downloaded their album.
• Watching the Christmas decorations going up at the Bishop's House.
• That I can probably make a break for it in 15 minutes.
• Anesthetic lozenges.
• The feeling of relief I had when I admitted to myself that NaNoWriMo was actually NaNo-NoGo this year.