I just want to let y'all know (all 3 of you) that my Handsome Husband is the best there is!!!

I've sort of been in mourning because of having to drop out of group lessons which have been so much fun and have taught me so much. All because my Small Son will be starting his musical career with private lessons on PC. I haven't exactly been weepy, or even sad outwardly. At least, not that I know of. Two mornings ago, driving HH to work at oh-Dark-hundred he asked me how much my lessons were. I told him they were $75 a month. Then he asked me would I sign back up again if he paid for the lessons. What?!? Yes. Of course. It's hard to jump up and down with excitement at oh-Dark-hundred in a Hyundai. Can I just say . . . Wah-HOOOOOOOO! I'm probably going to have to take a little gaff (or is it guff?) to get back in, and perhaps pay the pittance sign-up fee, but WHO CARES! What a sweetheart my husband is. Getting ready to play with the Grade III tonight. Little nervous.

Our prophet and president, Gordon B. Hickley, died today of caused related to age. He WAS 97, after all. His wife had died 6Apr04, and he made no secret of the fact that he missed her immensely. He probably would have wasted away sooner if he hadn't had so much stuff to do.

I will miss him. When they were both younger, he and my father-in-law looked a lot alike. Score one for GBH. He also started and ended his conference talks with jokes. Score two for GBH.

He was not uppity at all. He was a common guy, just like anybody else. Score 3 for GBH.

But he, with the Lord's assistance, moved figurative mountains in accomplishing things in the Church in the last 75 years. Movies, broadcasts, filmstrips, the website, genealogy tools, 50+ temples, the list goes on and on and on. Score 50+ for GBH!!

I am not sad. I figured he would be taken quickly, after all the work he did for the Lord, and he was. He is no longer in pain, or stooped and using a cane. He is with his dear wife, and his beloved mother whom he hasn't seen since he was 7 or so, and his father. Rumour has it that his dear friend, who promised he wouldn't die before GBH, died instead a few minutes after he died. I'm sure he got a very warm welcome when he went through the veil.

I am a Scoutmaster, among other things.

One time about 3 years ago . . . OK, it was March 28, 2005, and I was getting ready to work my 2 hour shift from home, and while I was waiting for my computer to warm up, I was working on a walking stick that I was carving for Scouts. It had a piper on the top, and a dragon just above the handle, and has since gotten lots of celtic decoration in between.

You know the rules, of course: Carve away from yourself. Make sure there's nobody in your immediate vicinity (called the "blood circle") you could accidentally cut. Use a sharp knife.

I was doing all those things, especially carving away from myself. I neglected to notice, because in general I do not pay attention, that my left HAND was out there in the line of fire from my right hand holding the knife and carving outward.

Did I tell you I am a Murphy??

Murphy's Law, to which I am a slave, states that if anything can go wrong, it will, and at the worst possible moment.

Yes, the knife slipped. And I was scheduled to start work in 5 minutes..

I cut a clean 2.5 inch cut across my left palm at the base of my index finger. Blood like you have never seen!! I ran to the bathroom and ran cold water on it, to no avail. A washcloth pressed on the wound did seem to stop the blood, but I couldn't take the pressure off, and I had to start work. I grabbed a . . . tie or something, I forget what . . . tied the washcloth tightly to my hand and worked my shift one-handed. Everybody was at work or school, so I had to drive myself to the emergency room, where I got 13 stitches. I now have a rather large scar. Luckily I didn't cut any tendons, so I can, of course, still play.

This is where my nickname comes from. Now you know the rest of the story.

I have one more lesson before Small Son starts to get the lessons instead of me, for nearly twice the price.

Nothing much happened last night except that I had it in my head that I was doing so much better because of Jack's compliment on Tuesday, and then I flubbed up nearly everywhere..

I had noticed that Jason's carrying case (I don't know what the official term is) is coming apart at the seams, and the zipper is failing him. I had suggested I could replace it for him, and said I'd do it for the cost of the materials plus $15. He said OK. Last night after the lesson I went to a fabric store and finally found a zipper long enough to fit, plus the twill tape needed for finishing it. I sent him an email, but I've heard he isn't an email kind of guy, so we'll see if I get any response..

I'm sure going to miss those guys..

We got the rest of Brown Haired Maiden last night: Sean poked his head in and handed it out. Turns out the composer of this tune really got carried away and wrote 6 parts. Six!! So instead of playing the two parts we have learned so far and the jig, we are going to play 4 parts of Brown Haired Maiden. I like the tune, but . . . Can I learn all these new tunes before March 8 and the concert?? And competition season?? Guess I better get cracking. . . Battle of the Somme, 2 more parts of BHM, and Bells of Dunblane, to say nothing of Blue Bonnets perfected and possibly Clumsy Lover perfected.

Ugh.

Yesterday was my friend Connie's birthday. I wanted to do something special (yet cheap) for her.

So I hatched a plan..

I waited until I knew she would be at work and called her home number, planning on playing Happy Birthday in her voicemail so she would have it all year..

She picked up the phone. Stupidly I asked, "Are you at work?" Of course she was not! I called her at her HOME number. I said, "Hold on," threw down the phone and struck in Angus and played HBTY perfectly. I picked up the phone and again stupidly said, "Did you hear that?" Of course she did. She probably didn't even need the phone. But she happily surprised me. This is one of the reasons she is my friend. When I explained my plan to play it on her voicemail, she said, "Call back again and I won't pick up and you can play it on my voicemail and then I can play it for my family and friends.".

Of course I did. I hope she listens to it often during the year. It turned out to be a very satisfying birthday present for both giver and recipient!

Last night was band practice.

Our Fearless Leader was late, arriving at 2030 without his pipes.

We had already run through quite a large number of tunes for the concert, and were all sweaty and tired. I was hoping he would walk in, though, when we actually WERE practicing, but instead we were taking a break when he edged through the door, PC in hand. He believed Pete when Pete told him actually had been practicing. So that was good. Sean ran through Blue Bonnets and 100 Pipers and then we did Clumsy Lover (not very well, I might add) and he crabbed at us about Farewell to Nigg, the oil rig tune.

I was listening to the classical music radio station, and the DJ was interviewing a famous conductor about preparing for a concert, and "crabbing" was the conductor's term for keeping at people to "Get It Right, Stupid!", so this is an official musical term.

We definitely deserved to be crabbed at, though, so Crab Away, Sean.

While we were paused from piping, Jack walked up to me and looked me straight in the eye and said, "I was going to tell you last week . . ." and he proceeded to tell me that (in his opinion) I have improved tremendously since fall, that I have obviously been working at it, and it was paying off, and I sounded wonderful, and he thanked me for keeping at it. I thanked him for taking the time to tell me. I accept any and all compliments. Jack's opinion is as good as the next piper's, and other people have told me this, too, so it must be true. I know I can hear other people's mistakes a lot more, and I'm starting to be able to tell when drones or a chanter note is out of tune. Perhaps the two are concurrent.I feel much better. . . all warm and fuzzy inside.

My parts in this annual recital (my fourth, I was surprised to count) included a march-strathspey-reel set with 5 other pipers of about my calibre, and a march played solo.

I much prefer playing with other people, people who can cover up my mistakes when I make them. The march-strathspey-reel went off without a hitch. Jason, the pipe major and our instructor, was very pleased and even shook everybody's hand afterwards. He must have been really relieved. I was.

The solo, however, was 4-part march called Brogues on the Cobbles, written by Dennis McMaster who was my instructor for a long time. (See Sept 14 2007) He was running the curtain, just 4 yards away. The last part of this march is so off-beat it's very difficulty to play. Part I went fine. Part II started fine and somewhere in the middle there I missed a note and got completely lost so I played some collection of notes til I got to . . . well, somewhere where I could start the third part. So Part III started fine, but the same thing happened as Part II and I did the same thing, and then I got to the Killer Part IV. This one I have been working on and I DID IT ABSOLUTELY PERFECTLY! Yeah, me! I got polite applause. Afterward another student came up and comlimented me on what a fine job I'd done on a tune that has always been his Waterloo. I thanked him. (all compliments accepted). He hadn't heard any mistakes. He should probably work on that tune some more. Dennis even said I did fine. When I apologized for spontaneously rewriting the middle of it, and he said those things happen when you are performing, and at least I had kept going, so . . . good job.