You are currently browsing the daily archive for April 4, 2009.

(Editor’s Note:  Well, now.  I had written most of this post and then went to get another cup of coffee.  When I came back, WordPress asked me to log in all over again.  When I did, I discovered that the only part it had automatically saved was the title.  Sic Transit.  So we’ll try again.  It’s not as if I don’t have the time this morning.)

A little sprinkling of Robbonesse for your Saturday enjoyment:

♦  It’s one thing to have the house to myself for a few days while the gels are off in Florida visiting family.  It’s something else entirely when that freedom is smack in the middle of Lent when I’ve kyboshed most of my self-indulgences.  “Whoa. 8:55 already? Guess I’ll just go to bed.”

♦  I left the windows open last evening in the teeth of a pretty stiffish southwesterly gale so that I could listen to our newest neighbor, an owl that has taken up local residence this past week or two.  I think he’s here because some of the woodland across the way has been cleared recently to make more room for McMansions and we now have more of that patchy combination of woods and open spaces that owls favor. 

At any rate, he has made his presense felt with what Cartman would call “authori-tah“, starting in at around dusk and carrying on until midnight with a very distinctive “Hut! Hut! Hu-Hooooo!!”  I love owls and I love all the legends that associate them with wisdom, but I’m not sure this one is saying anything more profound than, “Gents, get lost.  Ladies, I’m open for business!”

♦  Speaking of nighttime wisdom, I believe all of us have had that dream where we go into the final exam only to realize that we haven’t studied all semester?  Well last night I had one in which I was a math teacher, it was Parent Night, and I suddenly realize I hadn’t taught all semester!  I was late to the meeting and as I walked up to the front of the classroom, it occurred to me that I didn’t even know who my students were.  The desks were full of parents whose faces were rapidly fossilizing and I muttered to my assistant, “What do I do?” She responded, “Just go for it and do your best!”

Well, I hoomed and hommed and fiddled with the papers on my desk for a minute or two.  When I looked up, all the parents were gone.  “Where did they go?” I asked my assistant. “Probably to demand their money back so they could hire private tutors,” she replied.

I’m pretty sure this dream was the result of the fact that Thursday’s softball practice wasn’t all that terrific and I couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow it was my fault.

♦   Oh, speaking of softball, I picked up the team uniforms yesterday.  I must say that I certainly wasn’t expecting polyester mesh, nor was I expecting a large corporate logo on the front.  I already knew who our team sponsor was, but for some reason this didn’t fully click.  Ah well, one more level of suits to placate, I suppose.   

♦   As I reported yesterday, the gels seem to have taken to flying without any problem, thank God. (The eldest was griping about her ears, but I don’t count that.)  I talked a bit more with them after they landed.  They had taken off from Dee Cee in considerable cloud and rain and the nine year old told me about it: “Oh, Daddy!’ she said.  (She’s a confirmed Oh, Daddy!-er.  I hope she doesn’t grow up to be like Madeline Glossip, Oh, Look!- ing everything.)  “Oh, Daddy! When we took off, there was nothing but cloud out the window.  But when we broke through, I thought I was in Antarctica!  Nothing but white below me and nothing but blue, blue, blue above!!”

This gel is definitely the poet of the family.  When she flashes out one of these observations, it almost breaks my heart with happiness.

♦   One indulgence in which I intend to, er, indulge, is to scallopini up myself some yummy veal for Palm Sunday din-dins tomorrow night.  (Mrs. R does not care for veal so I always wait until she is elsewhere.)  Nothing fancy, you understand, just some sauteeing with whatever spices occur to me at the time, or perhaps some nice breading, and a big stack of potato-pancakes to go with it.  Mmmmmmm.  Normally, I would cap if off with some nice Beaujolais as well, but alas, that’s one of my barred indulgences.  You might argue that the fast is lifted on Sundays, which are days of celebration.  I have been doing an informal poll of my more religiously-inclined friends and they seem to be about evenly split on whether this constitutes a proper recognition of the Sabbath or whether it is just a loophole.  Frankly, I’m rayther torn.  Part of me says to stop being such a nut and just have a freepin’ glass of wine.  The other part says that if I’m over-thinking it this much, it would be just as well to let it go and stick to water, especially as Lent is nearly over and I’ve been pretty careful this year.  I’m leaning toward the latter. 

♦  Another treat about which I don’t have any qualms is to sit down and listen undisturbed to my new recording of the Bach St. Matthew Passion.  (In fact, given its length, I may start in on it tonight.) Despite all my superlatives about the musick of ol’ J.S., I confess that I have never actually heard this piece before.  My recording -by Philippe Herreweghe and the Collegium Vocale Gent – has received all kinds of rave reviews, so I am really looking forward to this from both a religious and a musickal point of view.

♦  Oh, a little house-keeping note.  I’ve set up a new blogroll category for those bloggers from whom we haven’t heard in some time but that I enjoy too much to delete their past efforts.  If I may say so myself, I think the title of the new category goes very nicely with the overall theme of this place.    Of course, if and when any of these fine folk swim back to the surface, I will restore them to their original places at table.

♦   Well, it’s a lovely spring day and there’s work to be done in the garden, so I should be off doing it.  I was out early this morning, as is my Saturday wont, refilling the bird-feeder.  I believe I noted a few weeks ago the fact that the chickadees are always the first birds back into the feeder after I’ve filled it.  Well, this morning, I looked up and noticed that a pair of them were sitting quite close by – watching me.  They were in getting their brekkers before I had even closed the back door.

Smart birds, chickadees.

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