No New Reed

I did not get that promised new reed. Instead, surgery was performed on the old reed, which involved cutting about 1/8" off the corners, making it harder to play. It IS harder to play and doesn't squeak AS MUCH. I will have to play around with it, and continue to work on blowing less strongly.

I don't remember much else from the lesson because I was Exhausted and didn't take in much.

I do remember somebody bringing up the subject of Chia pets. I don't know if you recall these. They were (or are) little greenware ceramic pots in the shape of animals or people that have seeds embedded in them. When you water them faithfully, they sprout, giving the animal a green wooly coat, or the person a green afro. I suddenly imagined a Chia pot in the shape of Jason's (who is bald) head, which lead to a mental image of Our Pipe Major with a head of bushy green leaves. I don't think anybody else made the mental image jump, because I laughed hysterically all by myself. Perhaps they were just polite. Karen would have gotten it.

I received 4 or 5 "Are you losing it?" looks. I apologized, using my extreme fatigue as my excuse.

Cut

. . . from playing the timed medley at Thanksgiving Point.

I didn't cry. It always amazes me when I can control my emotions.


Possibly this time it was because the Bad News was balanced with Good News: my reed appears to be collapsing, causing the Damned Squeaking I have been fighting for the last 2 months or more. So Thursday I get a new reed and hopefully the problem will be solved and I'll sound beautiful for my solos, and for the March Medley at Thanksgiving Point. Yay!

Circle Buddies

Your circle buddy is the person you tend to relate to in the circle during practice.

Sometimes you stand next to your circle buddy and comment on everybody else during practice. This causes you not to pay attention to the pipe major and you are always asking a non-buddy (not involved in you and your buddy conversing), "What are we playing?"

Sometimes you stand across from your buddy and you have secret hand signals--somewhat like the signals used between the catcher and the pitcher in a baseball game--with which you communicate. Ben and Grant, and Aaron and Nick tend to do this. I haven't figured out if their signals actually mean something, or are just used to attract the attention of the other band.

I have several circle buddies. Karen, when she is there. We miss a lot of instructions because we are chattering. When Karen is not there, I stand by or across from Sande. Sande and I have been roommates on several band trips, and we are in group lessons together, so we go way back. Sande doesn't talk much at practice, but she has a good sense of humor. If neither Sande nor Karen are there, I stand by Pete, Jack, or Aaron who are sympathetic but who also pay attention to pipe major instructions, so it's just somebody familiar to stand by. Pete and Jack have been kind to me from my Worst Piper days with the band when nobody else would talk to me; Aaron is entertaining because he makes funny comments. He also plays harmony for most tunes. This tells me when we are on the second time through a tune and getting ready to either end or switch to the next tune.

St. Paddy's Day 2010

17 March 2010

This was my first year doing extensive pub crawling. The first year I was a gig or so late due to either miscommunication, or forgetfulness on the part of my mother-in-law, I don't know which (and I don't want to know). I left after 1 or 2 pubs, too.

This year I was able to get to the Celtic Center for the tune-up (barely; had to pick up Red-Haired Daughter and take her home due to illness) and then proceded to do 10 pub stops. The bars were pretty empty for the first few hours of the afternoon (12:00 til about 3:00), but as afternoon turned into evening, and evening to night, they got fuller and fuller, until it was almost claustrophobic. We are used to having a big space to circle up in and play. There was no room for circles, or even ovals, in these pubs. We sort of squose in where we could, facing each other--sort of. We aren't even talking polygons, here. More like amoebas. As time wore on, the crowds got louder and more appreciative, too.

Ian overscheduled us, as he apparently has done in years past. At one point we had 30 minutes to do a 20 minute gig, drive 50 blocks and tune up again. Of course that set us up to be late for all subsequent gigs that evening. At one bar I saw Vickie Newton from work, and at another, Fair-Haired Daughter. I did the Amazing Grace solo at a bar called Gracie's and overblew it big-time. I felt terrible, and didn't volunteer for any other solos, though I think PM would have given me another chance if I had raised my hand. I don't think he really wanted me to. So I'll work on overblowing and volunteer another time.

Just as a side note . . . some of those bars were really creepy.

2010 Concert

13 March 2010

It started snowing late morning, pretty heavily, and while down in the lower elevations it stopped precitating, up on the benches it kept snowing until, oh, about 8:00 pm. The snow wasn't sticking to the roads, but visibility was reduced. I didn't have a very good feeling about our audience.

I failed to understand the fanaticism of our fanatics.

They filled 3 sections of the auditorium, despite the snow.

As for the concert itself, the video clips were better than our "Pipes of War" concert, and were shorter and more audible. Lots of different band members were in them, so it wasn't just Ian mumbling through the commentary. There were lots of the stories behind tunes, and clips from WWI (or perhaps WWI movies). There was gas and war sound effects.

This was Karen, Dan and Kevin's first concert. Dan didn't seem nervous, but he never does. Kevin was nervous and was dancing around next to me. I tried to tease him a little to get him to relax, but he was having none of it, so I left him alone with his nerves. Karen had Lungs of Fire, residue of bronchitis. We were lucky she was there at all, and she played here and there, and otherwise was a placeholder, which was fine. I had prayed for her immune system, and she says it worked because her mom, who had the same illness, can still barely breathe whereas Karen herself can play tunes on the pipes. Personally, I think she set herself up for a miracle by being a piper in the first place and developing good, strong lungs, but I'm perfectly willing to admit Divine Intervention on her behalf in this.

For our before-concert meal, Robert (the surgeon) brought sushi and wraps and vegetable trays . . . and cookies and pizza. He's looking after our health. I got a kick out of his license plate: CUTNSEW. He said he doesn't mind if people think he is a quilter.

The funniest incident of the concert was the beginning. There was supposed to be a video clip and smoke, then Jason was supposed to coming walking down the aisle from the back of the auditorium playing a tune. At the stage, he was to turn around and we were all going to start the 9/8's. Unfortunately (for him), he started before the video, got to the stage and THEN the video started. We could hear the stage people muttering, "He just started! Didn't tell anybody!" I guess he could have walked backstage and played the 9/8's with us when the curtain came up, but instead he walked back to the back of the auditorium, and after the clip was over, did his whole tune again. We were backstage in the pitch dark trying not to breathe the "smoke" and sniggering at his blaring mistake. During the intermission tune-up, Tyler said, "Why is it that when Jason screws up, everybody is nice to him, but when we screw up . . . " He never got any farther. Any comment about what happens to 'us' was interrupted by a laugh and a fake karate kick to the head.

All reports--even from experienced pipers--said that we played together, and our sound was clean and bright. It didn't sound like that to me. I know for a fact that I messed up the jig, Piper's Wedding. Maybe that was the only thing.

The treasurer's report said we took in almost $5000, more than any other concert during his (Pete's) tenure as treasurer. For a snowy day--for any day--, that was excellent!

Anticipating St. Paddy's Day

The band usually schedules gigs at bars, etc, during the afternoon and evening of St. Paddy's Day. The first year I was actually in the band, I showed up late for the 2nd gig and had to get tuned up while everybody else was already playing, for which I got scolded. Since then I haven't played the gigs.

This year I'm working early enough that I could possibly do them. I traded hours and got some PTO so as not to kill myself. When I suggested to the PM that I could help out at the gigs, he said, "Thanks. That'd be great." So I get to do gigs. I'll be working in my kilt so I can jump in the car after work (I am now getting off at 1030, tune up at the Celtic Center at 1100) and drive over there.

It's not exactly like being invited to play. But it's not a polite decline, either. It was an enthusiastic thanks. That's very uplifting.

Concert this Saturday. I should practice. A little every day.

Playing for a Family Member's Funeral

I did it. I wasn't sure if I could, but I did.

My dear Grama died after 96 years of chuckling at life. This was 0805 on 2/5/10, in Butte, Montana.

We immediately made plans to drive up there. My dear, sweet husband had taken us all up there the week before so I could see her before she passed through the veil. I got to hold her hand, and she held mine back. Aunts and uncles, cousins and nephews and nieces were all there. Even Mom!. We were out and about a lot, to exercise the kids, but we kept coming back to Grama and holding her hand. I kissed her good-bye before we left. Then a week later, the call came.

My cousin Rosemary asked Piper Pat and I to play for the services, so on Sunday we met in the Finlen Hotel ballroom, with the sun warming the golden flowers on the carpet. We got pretty much tuned to each other, and to the scale as it is known in general. Several sets were planned out, and we chose the best among them. At the vigil Monday night we played Danny Boy (for Grama, born in Ireland) and Nu Farmer Skoven Trindt on Lendt (or something . . .for my Danish Grampa). At the funeral on Tuesday morning, we played the casket out to the hearse. Since we both know Highland Cathedral, we played that over and over. Had to fight a church lady so she would let us out of the door, us thinking that that whole cavalcade was on our backs. But when we passed the hearse and turned around, they were still only halfway down the ramp. So we sstood out ttthere in ttthe frrreezing coldddd and playedddd the ttttune a ccccouple mmmmore ttttimes . . . and then we were done. No graveside services, as the body is going to be cremated.


I managed not to cry. I focused on playing and marching so much that I thought I was going to burn a hole in . . . whatever I was focusing on.

I also managed not to light anything on fire.