Bass Lesson # 4

You've heard the saying "the road to he$$ is paved with good intentions" ? Well, last night I had every good intention of having another bass lesson, and it didn't happen. As I lay in bed last night, draped in guilt and remorse and wondering Why? Why? Why? do I not follow through with these intentions...(insert gasping sob here)...it came to me...here's why...

I left work a little early as Hunter needed to be driven to work. I picked him up in front of the gym as it seems to be the only landmark in uptown Saint John that he knows how to describe. It's all relative according to where the gym is. Where is the city market? Across from the gym. Where does Dad work? Ten blocks from the gym. Which Tim Hortons are you going to be at? The one around the corner from the gym and up the street a bit. Where does Mom work? Shrug...over there. No where near the gym.

Anyway, I loaded Hunter and his bookbag into the car (the contents of said bookbag are closely guarded and top secret). I never see homework coming out of it, the last report card is missing in action, but every day I do see a packed lunch go into the book bag. Occasionally an apple that has seen better days does emerge. I wish the report card would come out.

Oh yes, back to the reason...excuse...reason. I took Hunter to work and then stopped for a second at my favourite consignment store. I buy all my clothes there - it's too much fun getting cool stuff for next to nothing. The store was closed, so I headed home. Got home, unloaded the car except for the bookbag, put stuff away and started thinking about dinner. Was doing laundry when Michael ventured into the laundry room (I noticed he was looking around in complete bewilderment...where am I? read the look on his face) and asked if I were going out. I said I wasn't, and Michael said he was going to Clay's house after dinner.

At this point the thought of having a bass lesson has not yet entered my mind.

I continued with the laundry, made dinner, and cleared away the messy kitchen. Michael had left for Clay's house already. The phone rang; it was Esther from Moncton. We had not spoken before but we immediately connected as we share a passion for bluegrass - she is passionate about being involved in it and I am passionate about getting away from it. But, still.

We chatted for a bit and it was during the conversation that it occurred to me that I should give myself a bass lesson while Michael is out. Something Esther said may have triggered that thought, I'm not sure. Could have been "are you nuts letting your husband try to teach you anything?" or words to that effect. I'm paraphrasing. So, I thought I could give myself a lesson.

This is how the rest of the evening played out.

• Chatted with Esther and solved the problems of the bluegrass world and the rude people - nice talking with you Esther.
• Finished cleaning the kitchen - I noticed I was moving more slowly now... just making sure I do a good job, I think. I'm humming Polly Wolly Doodle. I turn the stereo in the kitchen on to Britney Spears.
• More laundry. It's just endless, that task.
• Those bathrooms need some serious elbow grease. I load up every can of spray anything and start cleaning. Marshall runs through my mind. I washed the floors too.
• Checked my email. Answered several and then started doing some electronic filing. Gotta keep that stuff caught up.
• More laundry. I'm thinking about Murphy. She sure does love that bass.
• Mallory is lying on the couch, watching TV. I crawl up on top of her and make her squeal like a stuck pig. I don't see the problem - I only outweigh her by 45 lbs or so. Jeepers.
• I get comfy on the couch with Mallory and we watch The Hills. I totally don't get that show, and I really don't get why they have The Hills After Show. What the heck? People with microphones sitting around a table discussing the lamest show ever. Like, why did Heidi try to weasel her way back into Audrina's life - was it really to tick Lauren off?

At this point it's getting late; I have to admit that the acting in The Hills makes Murphy and Marshall shine with Oscar like qualities. Never have they looked so good. Unfortunately, it's really late now, and I'm sleepy. Maybe tomorrow. Michael, are you going out again soon?

I laughed so hard I cried...

We bought a new car tonight. It's quite pretty - I recommend going to see Wayne at Centennial if you are in the market for a car - he is top notch. After the sale was complete he spent considerable time showing us all the bells and whistles, and the piece de resistance, the OnStar feature.

We dialed into the OnStar system and a helpful person came on the line and started asking Michael a bunch of questions. Phone number, address, etc, etc, etc., to confirm he was who he said he was. Anyway, in her file for us she had an email address that Michael had quoted earlier in the day, and the OnStar woman said she was going to repeat it back to him phonetically. Remember that commercial "Hooked on Phonics worked for me !!" ? I was reminded of that commercial as OnStar woman started repeating Michael's incredibly long email address.

OnStar Woman: Ok, I'm going to read your email address back to you, then I'll ask you to confirm it.

M as in Michael
I as in India

Helen: I start laughing here. I said "you gave her the long address, didn't you?"

C as in Cat
H as in Hoolahoop
A as in Aardvark
E as in Euthanasia
L as in Lunatic
dot (insert deep breath)
F as in Foxtrot
L as in Lunatic
O as in Oxymoron
Y as in Yiddish
D as in Dogmatic
@
B as in Bravo
L as in Lunatic

Helen: I'm crying now. I have tears running down my face. Michael, Mallory and Hunter are laughing too, along with Wayne the car salesmen. OnStar woman trudges forward.

OnStar woman:
U as in Unicorn
E as in Euthanasia
G as in Grotesque
R as in Rabid
A as in Aardvark
S as in Samsonite
S as in Samsonite
F as in Foxtrot

Helen: I'm in convulsions at this point. It is just never going to end. You need to know that I have been telling Michael for years that his choice in email address's is massive, daunting, and just plain old cumbersome. Case in point, says Onstar Woman.

OnStar woman:
R as in Rabid
I as in India
E as in Euthanasia
N as in Nancy
D as in Dogmatic
S as in Samsonite
dot
COM !!

OnStar woman breathes a huge sigh of relief. I'm wiping at my eyes and trying to not look like a complete idiot in front of Wayne, but I think I'm too far gone.

OnStar woman: "Any questions?" she asked with a smile in her voice.

Helen (gasping) "Yes. Can you repeat that?"

Perhaps you had to be there; I don't know. I sure am glad I was :))

Helen
p.s. Have a blessed and happy day, unless you are planning differently :)

Random Thoughts of Appreciation

Ed and Becky, thank you so much again for your help last evening. I can't tell you the weight that has been lifted from my shoulders and I'm reminded yet again of what lovely friends you both are to Michael and me.

I'm off to Albany, New York this weekend for a meeting. I'm looking forward to the weekend as I will see a bunch of people that I don't have opportunity to see often, and to do a bit of service that will help me stay sane. (Yes, I do realize SANE is a relative term, but take it for what it's worth, ok?) I'm not so much looking forward to the traveling as the drive is approximately 12 hours each way...lots of pee breaks...why do women say "pee break"? you may well be asking yourself...and I'm traveling solo.

Becky suggested last night that I will be able to enjoy a good amount of bluegrass music on the drive. That isn't likely to happen, but I will take some of the sappier Alison Krauss tunes with me - I do love her sappy stuff - and I'll leave everything home that even remotely sounds like Cluck Old Hen. In my experience that covers everything else under the category Bluegrass. I'm expanding that category by including Dylan and Haggard, just on the off chance they grassed something up. There can be no errors on this, in my mind. I wonder where I put that Eagles CD?
Michael and I enjoyed a fun evening of music, food and fellowship at Larry and Carlotta's home. The company was great and we did some laughing and jamming, and supper was yummy. Thanks so much, Larry and Carlotta, for including us. It was really nice, too, to meet Clay's wife and see some of the rest of the gang again. Thanks again!

Kenny and Michael did a nice job on I Corinthians that day when they were pretending we have a recording studio at our house. As I was running the washer and dryer, and banging around pots and pans the thought crossed my mind that those sounds would be new to that particularly stellar piece of music. I enjoyed the listening - Kenny and Michael, great job!

I had best get busy again so that I have lots of time later for packing every piece of clothing I own, along with all of my hair stuff. First rule of being Helen: Never travel light.

Bye now and take care,
Helen

Bass Lesson # 3

I had my third bass lesson last night – from my memory was forced all the memories that I had found funny about Bass Lesson # 2. So much so, that I can't write about the second lesson. I’ve had to skip to the third.

I do recall about lesson 2 that it took a little while for me to become agitated. I remember that we were locked in the office again, that our 18 year old son was outside the office door demanding to know what it was that we were doing in the office that required a locked door (are you sure you really want to know, Hunter???), and I recall Michael saying that my timing was incredibly bad and when I asked if I could play along to Polly Wally Doodle, he said I wasn’t ready for that song. A crushing blow.

Lesson # 3 started out badly for a couple reasons:
a) I didn’t feel like having a bass lesson
b) It was too soon after Lesson # 2…it had only been a couple weeks, after all
c) I didn’t feel like having a bass lesson. See point (b).

We started out with the Murphy and Marshall DVD. I was reminded again of Murphy’s enthusiasm and secretly wished I felt even a teeny bit of it. I could relate to Marshall completely – he totally looks like he wants to smack Murphy, especially after the 39th time she says “Ready Marshall?!?!?” Actually, now that I think about it, she doesn’t say that 39 times, I was just forced to watch it 39 times. No wonder I felt agitated.

The term “force” is subjective, of course. No one was holding me at gunpoint, no one was threatening to hurt me physically, emotionally, or in any other fashion. I did, however, have a vivid flashback of childhood and being “forced” to weed the bazillion acres of strawberries in my parent’s back yard in the blazing, cruel sun, without water, hat or sunscreen.

Things were going along semi-fine with me trying to emulate Marshall’s finesse on the bass, and trying to ignore Murphy’s hollering. Stupidly I thought I could sort it out just by watching Marshall’s fingers, but it didn’t take long for me to remember that I can’t tell my left hand from my right, and I certainly can’t sort out his left hand / my right hand, and his right hand / my left hand…far too complicated. In spite of all this chaos in my head, Michael unwittingly launched into a side lesson on music theory. On one of his hands…don’t ask me which one…he started with the reformed alphabet again, only more of it than the first lesson. A lot more. “For a C note (I think he said ‘note’) it goes C D E F G A B C. For a D note it goes D E F G A B C D. For a E note it goes E F G A B C D E” All I could think, once again, was “ABC The Goldfish” that dad used to play when I was little. Michael kept asking if I understood – I was reluctant to answer because either way I was in trouble. In saying “yes” I would be lying and in saying “no” he would start over. What to do!!!

After a time on the theory, I was instructed to go back to the DVD. I think the song was Bluegrass Cabin Home and it was put on repeat mode on the machine. Endlessly. As in over and over, ad infinitum. Over and over Michael said my timing was off…he’s been very kind and patient, but the truth still stings no matter how kindly it is put. I must remember that next time I am determining to tell someone the truth about themselves. Perhaps it’s better to focus on myself. Anyway, over and over and over we ran through the song. At one point I felt kind of bad for poor Marshall – his timing was completely off…he was totally out of sync with me. Michael assured me that Marshall was not the problem. The worst of it was this: even when I thought I did great with the timing, it was not so great. Even when I thought I had that stupid C note right, I didn’t. We even marked a pencil mark on the bass so that I could find the fret to do the C note and I still couldn’t find it.

Did I mention that I didn’t feel like having a bass lesson? This particular one will go down as a catastrophe. And just as a final nail in that coffin, Michael said today that all I had done was complain, for an entire hour, he said. He also pointed out that if I didn’t persevere, I wouldn’t get anywhere with it, and as a final blow, he said “Practice makes improved”. I’ve heard that somewhere before…oh yes, I’ve been saying that for years. Gotta love it when you have to eat your own words.

On a final note (pardon the pun) remember, we are not punished for our sins, we are punished by our sins.

Have a happy and blessed day…
Helen

Passports and Mystery Math…

Mallory and I were returning some stuff the other day and as we were leaving I saw that there was no one at all in the photo shop near the store entrance. I’ve been procrastinating about getting my passport; part of my delay being that I have to arrange to get a photo taken, and this small task seems insurmountable in this world of too many things to do with not enough time and one car.

So, seeing an opportunity, I seized it (my mother didn’t raise any stupid children) and went into the photo shop, dragging Mallory behind me. She muttered something about ‘starving to death’ but I was a woman on a mission and the details of life were pushed to the back of my mind.

The time when we entered the shop was 6:20PM. I walked up the counter and asked the price for getting passport photos done, along with the amount of time that it usually takes to complete. The woman told me the price and said ‘I only do them until 6:30’. Ahhhhh….ok, I thought. Let’s go. Her response made no sense to me then, but over the next little bit it started to click in.

She directed me over to the mirror. Foolishly, I thought it was so I could make sure I looked stunning. She had other ideas – ‘here’s some powder’ she said. ‘You have to wipe all that shine off your face…there’s not allowed to be any shine in the picture.’

Oh. Shine. I was dismayed by how much powder I had to apply before Psycho
PhotoShop Woman told me I was in the clear. Mallory, of course, was over in the row of chairs splitting a gut. She announced that my nose looked fake. Great! Who cares? so long as the fake nose has no shine.

Finally we got down to taking the picture. I was all smiles with my fake nose intact…’no smiling’, she said. “They don’t like smiles’. Okie dokie. No smiles, no shine, and a fake nose.

The picture, finally, came out of the little machine. I was, needless to say, relieved. It was pushing 6:30 and the Psycho PhotoShop Woman had made it pretty clear all the way along that she only did this until 6:30. Then, horror of horrors, she pulled the picture out of the little machine and said ‘oh no, this one isn’t any good’. ‘Look at your hair – it’s throwing shadows…shadows aren’t allowed’. Mallory reminded me that ‘your hair is always an issue’. Yes, I know. Really I do.

So, back to the chair, fake nose in place and no smiling. I remove my coat thinking that the collar might be making the light bounce off my hair. Psycho Photo Shop Woman thought that was a great idea. She spends precious minutes looking into the camera at me, with a concerned look on her face, then she put the camera down, and started pressing on the sides of her head like she was experiencing a great deal of pain.

“Could you maybe push in the sides of your hair like this?” she said, and continued to demonstrate. “Maybe if you pull it down some too it won’t be so much in the way”. Oh my good grief. Had I not already paid, I’m pretty sure I would have left. But, I did need the photo, and I had paid, so I started mashing my hair down, and pushing in on the sides of my head as though I was having a hemorrhage or had won the lotto. Mallory is laughing silently…I just want to go home.

At long last, an acceptable picture… no smiles, no shine, no shadows, and mashed down hair… and, apparently, acceptable to the government of Canada. All I know is this: it wants to be. I didn’t look like an alien when I arrived but Psycho Photo Shop Woman made sure that mission was accomplished. I’ll be embarrassed to show the picture at the border, if I ever do follow through on the passport process.

I was going to write something about my second bass lesson – hence the name Mystery Math, but this is getting long so I’ll write that one soon.

Stay tuned… and remember, if you can’t have what you want, then want what you have.

Helen