Guitar and contrabass

The Wine and Song event I went to at Samson Estates was in this little building, in the tasting room.

Since there was no charge for the performance, I wanted to show my appreciation to Samson Estates for hosting it, so I bought a glass of blackberry wine and a blackberry truffle. I sipped the wine during the performance and when it was about three-fourths gone I ate the truffle.

I don't have it in my picture, but after I had eaten the truffle, a ladybug showed up on this little trunk that was functioning as my table and walked back and forth a few times. A ladybug is one of the few bugs that does not cause me to feel intense revulsion.

Here is the guitarist, David Feingold, playing the second guitar he had with him. Some of his talk was over my head, when he talked about tuning two strings to create a fifth, and how nylon strings lose their tune as you play. First he played alone, some classical pieces, and that was my favorite part of the show.

Then he was joined by the doublebassist, Ben Musa. Mr. Musa's instrument was so beautiful, like a piece of antique furniture. Together Mr. Feingold and Mr. Musa played some more jazzy music. It was very well done. Sometimes jazz goes over my head, too, if it is not melodic. They had good mixture.

The doublebassist would often close his eyes and even scrunch up his face while he played and breathe in a way that was obviously related to his music and sometimes he would hum. It reminded me of what I have been reading about meditative prayer -- coordinating your breathing with your prayer word. Music can be like prayer, or can be prayer itself. I don't know if it's a true quote but I have read that St. Augustine said, "He who sings, prays twice."

Here they are appreciating each other at the end of the performance.

This is afterwards, when most people had cleared out of the room, so you can get a better idea of the venue. It was charming -- small and intimate. More people showed up than they had anticipated, so it did become crowded, but fortunately I was there in good time and sat front and center.

The view

Today I went to one of the events of the Lynden Music Festival. I went to the event called Wine and Song, out at Samson's Winery. It was a performance of a guitarist with a double bassist. On the drive out, the scenery was beautiful.

Baker and the Twin Sisters from the Hannegan Road

I arrived at the winery.

Samson Estates Winery.

I was saying to myself what a privilege it is to live in Whatcom County. It was such a lovely fall day.

The view looking northeast from the winery.

Looking east. That hill hides Mt. Baker.
You can just see the very top of it.

Looking south.

Well, now it's late and I'm sleepy so I have to finish this episode of my life tomorrow.

You get what you pay for

Because it was so incredibly cheap, I bought on my Kindle Works of Edith Wharton (31 Books) and I read a couple short stories. Now I am reading The Valley of Decision, which is set in 18th Century Italy. I have done this a lot on my Kindle, that I buy lesser-known works of authors I like. Often I realize there's a good reason why the lesser-known works are lesser known. This book, The Valley of Decision, is okay but occasionally becomes tedious. I'm deciding whether I'll finish it.

 

Sampling

Seeing as yesterday I had a Monday, I thought that today I'd have a Tuesday. It was okay. Tomorrow I'll try a Wednesday.

Scope for the imagination

Well, today was Monday. As Mondays go, it wasn't bad. It was rainy, but I like rain for the most part. And I had plenty to do all day at work and I did it.

Tonight I made my dog very happy by giving him a rawhide bone. He loves those. It will last him for days. First he gnaws it into two or three pieces, then he slowly chews away each piece. I can hear him crunching and scraping his teeth on the bone right now. Sometimes he stops and pants a bit. I made sure to refill his water dish because chewing a bone always makes him thirsty.

I'm re-reading Anne of Green Gables on my Kindle.

A good place for plants

Today I went with my dad to Vander Giessen Nursery to close on a deal of plants and planting service. My dad had the bushes pulled out of two areas, one on each side of the garage, and needed to decide what to put in those beds. I was all for flowers on trellises and more flowers in front of that, but Dad wanted bushes because he considers them lower maintenance. So we went to Vander Giessen's last Saturday and talked it over with their young manager. I offered to e-mail some pictures of the areas that needed plants, along with more precise measurements than we had with us. Based on that, the manager came up with a recommendation of certain bushes to plant and an estimate of the price of plants plus the cost of someone planting them for us. Came out to a very reasonable total. So today we went back and he showed us examples of each the plants he had recommended, and we told him we'd like to go ahead with the project.

Vander Giessen Nursery has memories for me. In 1970-71, we lived just a block away from it, the year my mom, siblings, and I lived in Lynden, to be near family, while my dad spent a year in Viet Nam (he was an Air Force chaplain). I walked by it every day on my way to school that year. Also, my flower-loving grandma lived next door to us and she worked part-time at Vander Giessen.

My flower-loving grandma and my grandpa
while they still lived on the farm west of Lynden.
It was some years later that Grandma lived on
Hawley Street and worked at
Vander Giessen Nursery.

Relaxing feeling

Good to go to bed knowing tomorrow is Saturday and I don't have to wake up at a fixed time.

Books and Jobs

Well, I finished Gilead on my lunch break today. Now I have to decide whether to keep reading Marilynne Robinson until I exhaust her oeuvre* (had to look up the spelling) or whether to go in another direction for a while.

Steve Jobs died the other day. Sad that someone so brilliant died so young. Interesting to find out that he was adopted (h/t Anchoress).

Now, to bed at a half-way decent time.

Hearing things

Today I went to Sacred Space and the Scripture passage was Luke's version of the Lord's Prayer (Luke 11:1-4). What timing, since I just went to that seminar on the Lord's Prayer. And when I went to Living Space, the commentary on the daily readings, the teaching was very similar to what I had heard--that is, use the Lord's Prayer as a pattern for your own prayer. It's almost like Someone is telling me something.

I also noticed it said that yesterday's reading was the story of Mary and Martha (Luke 10:38-42), so I took a look at that, too. It contrasts the choices of Martha--distracted by the tasks that kept her busy--and Mary--sitting and listening to Jesus. I feel that God is giving me a sense that I need to spend more time in prayer and specifically listening for what he has to tell me, but I am distracted by my own activities. I think of how I could carve out one or two half-hour segments for meditative prayer, but I haven't done so yet. To my shame, I know that if I could take a half-hour from my work day for this, I would gladly do it, but when it comes to taking a half-hour from reading a novel or spending time on the web, or blogging, then I'm less willing.

Or taking a half-hour off my sleep in the morning. The trouble is, I would need more sleep, not less, to do this praying. Right now, if I sat and focused on prayer word and synchronized my breathing to it, I know I would be asleep within ten minutes. In order to pray better I need to get enough sleep at night.

I keep praying to pray better. Meanwhile, I'm up late again. I scheduled stuff into my google calendar, I caught up with friends on Facebook, I went and left a comment on my sister's CRC blog (I had forgotten my user name, of course, so it took me ages to log in just to leave a brief remark), and I wrote this blog. I am very, very sleepy. I will go straight to bed, and I know I'll fall asleep quickly, and I imagine I'll have a hard time waking up tomorrow morning.

Sleep deprivation

Well, the last two nights I was at a prayer seminar at my church about using the Lord's Prayer as a model for prayer

Living Prayer: The Lord's Prayer Alive in You

It was pretty decent.

Then last night after I got home I stayed up late finishing Home: A Novel by Marilynne Robinson. It is a companion volume to Gilead: A Novel. The story in Home takes place at the same time and place as the story in Gilead, but each novel focuses on a different character. The main characters in one are supporting characters in the other. So now I'm re-reading Gilead.

But really tonight I should get to bed at a decent hour. Last night when I got in to bed very late after finishing Home, I said to my dog, "Tomorrow morning I will regret staying up so late tonight." And I did, although I don't regret reading the book.

The silent land

I am reading a book called A Sunlit Absence: Silence, Awareness, and Contemplation, by Martin Laird, who is an Augustinian monk. I like it already. One of the first things I found out when I started is that it is the companion volume to another book by Martin Laird, called Into the Silent Land: A Guide to the Christian Practice of Contemplation. I intend to get that book, too.

I thought of two things while reading. One was a blog entry my sister wrote last year called Just Sitting, where she wrote, "If I don't listen to something while I walk or exercise my brain seems to absolutely lose its ability to think. After a while I start mindlessly counting my steps. It's agonizing. Even when I've tried to use that time for prayer, after a while I can't think of anything more to pray about and it's 1, 2, 3, 4, aaauugh. You'd think I could be alone in my mind for a while!"

This book describes a practice, which I've read about elsewhere (in an online resource about centering prayer), where you focus on a prayer word or phrase, such as the name "Jesus," or the Jesus prayer: "Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me," or a Bible verse.  You keep repeating that "prayer word" in your mind to keep it focused. Inevitably your mind will wander, but you don't get upset when that happens, you simply return to your prayer word:

The basic instruction in the practice of contemplation remains fundamentally the same throughout its seasons of practice: whenever we become aware that our attention has been stolen, we bring it back to the prayer word united with the breath. The practice is not to sit there trying to have no thoughts or only certain thoughts. As St. Teresa of Avila put it centuries ago, "by trying not to think, we hopelessly stimulate the imagination. . . . The harder you try not to think of anything, the more aroused your mind will become and you will think even more." Nor do we push away thoughts in an attempt to generate a dull blankness. Instead we simply bring our attention back to our practice whenever we find that our attention has been stolen. The challenge lies in its simplicity.

Thirty days

Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and November.
All the rest have thirty-one,
Save February alone,
Which has twenty-eight, in fine,
Till Leap Year gives it twenty-nine.

Rhymes from Mother Goose, Rev. Ed.
Compiled by Charles Welsh
D.C. Heath and Company, New York, 1930

How high is the water, Mama?

Yesterday I left work early for a dentist appointment then delivered documents to a law office in Lynden. Since it was a beautiful day and not yet time for supper I stopped off at the City Park. Here is Fishtrap Creek, which runs through the park.

And here it is again. The temperature was so mild and perfect. I sat at a picnic table but soon noticed insect activity on the surface. I enjoy etymology but I'm not much of a student of entomology, so I got up again.

The creek is quite full, it seems to me, for this time of year. It should be lower at the end of summer and get higher again in the winter. But maybe it typically is higher yet than this in the winter. I don't come to the part much in winter. Anyway, a beautiful afternoon.

Plus ça change

Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose. That's French for: The more things change, the more they stay the same.

I had to google "little mark under c" to remember what it's called. It's called a cedilla. And the little accent over the e même is a circumflex.

In French, there is no umlaut. Or if there is, I never heard of it.

Anyway, I'm trying out the new Blogger interface; that's the change. In either the new or old Blogger interface, they seem to have taken away the Amazon tool I used to be able to use to make easy links. Now I have to go to my Amazon Associates account in another window and get a link there.

Isn't that interesting? I read an article just the other day in which Susannah Breslin offered three possible reasons why no one reads your blog. Number 1 was "You're boring." Number 3 was that you're not a controversialist, which is someone who likes to disagree with others. I may be boring. I'm definitely not a controversialist. I truly dislike conflict, which is one reason I don't write about politics on my blog. Would I rather go weeks with no comments on my posts or every day have hate- and anger-filled comments by people who can't stand my opinions? Monty, I'll choose door number 1.

Here's an article about choosing doors by a mathematician. I can't understand it. As the saying goes, "I'm an English major; you do the math."

The first time I ever heard the phrase, "You do the math," was from the actor who was not Harrison Ford in the re-make of "Sabrina." On a talk show he said about his role, "I'm in a love triangle and the other guy is Harrison Ford. You do the math."

Which in turn reminds me of a funny review by Mark Steyn of the movie "Legends of the Fall," where he says, "A young English woman (Julia Ormond) arrives at the western ranch of Colonel Ludlow (Anthony Hopkins) and stirs the loins of his three sons. The sons are played by Brad Pitt, Aidan Quinn and Henry Thomas — and you know from the casting which one's unlikely to make it to the final reel."

Hey, Julia Ormond was the girl in "Sabrina," too. Suddenly this blog, which was rambling all over the place is starting to come together. I just need to tie in cedillas, circumflexes, and "Let's Make a Deal."

Let the good times roll

Just spent the evening on a land line phone talking to customer service to get a cell phone activated. Woo hoo. Earlier today I had a dentist appointment. Woot, woot. The fun just never stops around here!

I'm worn out from the excitement.

Windy

Windy day today. Very.

Sleepy night tonight. 'Night.

Cooling down

Today the weather cooled off significantly, which was a relief. It was windy with scudding clouds and falling leaves flying around, just like a fall day should be. It's reassuring when the weather does what it's supposed to do at the appropriate season. Later in the afternoon, we had a cloudburst.

I had a quiet day at home. For reasons I won't go into, I didn't go to church, but I did turn on a Catholic mass on EWTN and heard a homily on obedience to God, based on today's lectionary. I did a load of laundry.  I went out on my deck and looked at my flowers. I made some sandwiches for my lunch this week. I ate piece of apple pie with ice cream while visiting with my parents.

I finished reading The Tudors: The Complete Story of England's Most Notorious Dynasty on my Kindle. It was a decent enough book. I disagreed with some aspects of the author's reading of Elizabeth I's character (I admire her) and I felt he put forward some sensational rumors as facts--e.g., saying that when Elizabeth had smallpox it ravaged her skin and caused a lot of her hair to fall out so that she had bald patches. For some reason there was a belief floating around for a while (sort of like an urban myth, but about history) that Elizabeth was bald when she was older but pretty much every biography of her I've read (and I've read many) refutes that. Elizabeth Jenkins, author of my favorite Elizabeth biography (Elizabeth the Great), suspects that it arose because Elizabeth I wore wigs a lot when she was older, but she did find references to Elizabeth's actual hair at various points in her later life. Also, all the biographies I have read agree that Elizabeth was fortuitously spared disfigurement by smallpox although her lady in waiting and good friend, Mary Sidney, caught it from her and was disfigured. Anyway, this author, G.J. Meyer, believes Elizabeth was indifferent to the welfare of her people and concerned only with her own survival. At the end he seems to blame poverty in England from the time of the Tudors up to and including the Victorian age a couple centuries later on the Tudors, but particularly Henry VIII and Elizabeth I. That seems a bit much. But it was interesting to revisit that time and read through all of the rulers' reigns.

When I read several biographies of the same person, which I have done mainly with Elizabeth I, it's interesting to me to see how different biographers take the same information and events and read them differently so that they get different takes on what Elizabeth was really like.

Back into the work week tomorrow. Hoping for low doses of stress this week, not high doses.

Prickly heat

We've been having strangely warm, humid weather since Thursday. I don't like it. Especially at work where my work station is in a hot, airless location. It seemed like it was cooling off this morning, but this evening it feels sticky and warm again. This makes me cranky, fussy, grouchy, and crabby.

Long

Long day. Long week. Time for a long sleep.

All good but the oysters

Well, I went to my company picnic, held at the home of our senior ranking officer (so to speak), who has this beautiful view from his patio.

It was just the kind of party I like, where people sit where they will and talk as they will,  help themselves to drinks as they will and eat as they will. No forced games, no corporate rah-rah speeches.

The only bad part was when I decided to sample an oyster. Our host had some very fresh oysters and was shucking and sharing them, and a number of people who love oysters were enjoying them heartily. I wondered to myself if I had ever had an oyster and if so, whether it had been perhaps sort of good. I tried one. No, I had never tasted that before and, oh, no, I did not like it at all. Yuck, gross, and blech are the words that come to mind.

Driving home this evening, just remembering that oyster made me wonder if I should stop at the Lynden Rite-Aid and get some Pepcid AC or Pepto-Bismol, but by the time I got to Lynden I was thinking of other, more pleasant things. Almost anything would be more pleasant to think about, except maybe manure.

So, except for the oyster, it was a delightful afternoon and evening.

Join the happy, peppy people

Tomorrow is my company picnic at a workplace I have only been since July. I asked a co-worker, "What's it like?" and got joking answers. What I was really looking for was an assurance that I would not have to play volleyball or go on a scavenger hunt.

Every party needs a pooper,
That's what we invited you fer.
Party pooper.
Party pooper.

I don't really want to be a party pooper, I am happy to talk and laugh and eat. I just don't want to play organized games or get pep talks.

Speaking of party poopers reminds me of the classic "I Love Lucy" Vitameatavegamin scene where she starts out asking, "Do you poop out at parties? Are you unpopular?" and after numerous doses of the highly alcoholic Vitameatavegamin she asks, "Do you pop out at parties? Are you unpoopular?"

Dog tags

I hung a new license on my dog's collar today. It was a more difficult task than I had anticipated.

Now he is street legal.

Photo essay: Fall approaches

Personal retreat

I'm home from church this morning. I decided last night not to expend my energy getting ready and not to set my alarm for this morning. I just felt tired. I needed to catch up on sleep and my brain needs a little toning up. Of course, good Calvinist that I am, I also felt guilty about this decision. I don't like to miss church. I like church. I approve of it. I won't get another chance to go to church for at least a week.

But I decided, since my motive is not rejection of the church and its teachings, but a need for down time, for alone time, to label my morning not as "skipping church," but rather as "taking a personal retreat." The goal of this retreat is solitude and the length of the retreat is from the time I get up until around lunch time, when I will go visit my sister-in-law.

Retreat activities include: sleeping until I wake up naturally, walking the dog, having a bite of breakfast, having an extra cup of coffee, taking a shower, looking out the window and reflecting on the strangely sweet melancholy of autumn. I hope also to include in the agenda: taking out the garbage and doing a load of laundry. I'll wait until my folks upstairs go to their church service to do those, so I can traipse through their house with my garbage and laundry without engaging in any conversation.

Some of these activities are my normal Saturday morning routine, but I couldn't follow that routine yesterday because of the ALS Walk. I need them.

The walk

Well, I went to the Walk to Defeat ALS today.

It was at Squalicum Boathouse, Zuanich Park, in Bellingham -- a beautiful setting. It's been there for the past two or three years.

It was cloudy, breezy weather, quite pleasant, really. Some years it feels like summer at the walk, but today it felt like fall.

Software

I was working with my ALS Association Fundraising page. The ALS Association is a very worthy cause. But they have a very clunky website. It kept dumping me out to a front page that said, "Find your local chapter," then you had to click your state and try to find your way. I'm thinking, I'm logged in. I'm trying to go to my own page. Just take me there. And--this is not an ALS site problem, but a Windows or computer problem--I kept getting this box that asked, "Do you want only the information that is delivered securely?" And I kept having to click, "No." I needed a button that said, "NO! I told you NO! Now stop asking!"

Oh, well. The work week is over, and tomorrow I will attend the Walk to Defeat ALS.

Sure and certain hope

I attended a graveside service this afternoon for my cousin--comforting words spoken by my wise, good dad--and then went to a family gathering at my cousin's brother's house. (Obviously that is also a cousin.)

After I got home, I hunted up two pictures of my cousin. One is this one, taken probably in 1997 at a family reunion. On the left is my cousin, on the right is my oldest brother, who died nearly five years ago of ALS (Lou Gehrig's Disease).

So here are two members of my generation of my family whose earthly lives were cut short, my cousin at age 49, my brother at age 52.

Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection into eternal life

Tuesday

Feeling a little sleepy for blogging, so instead, since it's Tuesday, for your viewing and listening pleasure:



I like the Moody Blues.

There's always tomorrow

Well, a somewhat mis-spent evening, but, oh, well, tomorrow I may do better.

A case of the (pre) Mondays

Well, Sunday night. The work week looms. It's not a bad job, but Mondays...

No cause for alarm

On Friday nights, it's such a feeling of relief to get into bed and not set the alarm--just knowing the alarm can't go off makes me feel more at rest even the night before.

A bruised reed

But what's really on my mind is that a cousin of mine took his own life on Tuesday night. I can't stand the thought that he was so unhappy and in so much pain as to even want to do that, and I can't stand the thought that he didn't call anyone for help. We have a large extended family, and there were dozens of people he could have called and someone would have been with him in less than an hour, but he didn't call. What was I doing Tuesday night when he was in such anguish? Just reading or watering my plants or reading articles on the internet. If only I could have sensed somehow and at least prayed for him.

The LORD is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
Psalm 34:18

A bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench.
Isaiah 42:3a

I pray that the Lord, in his tenderness, pitied my cousin's anguish and received him with love and kindness. I pray that Jesus comforts my cousin's family, especially his mother and father.

Wilting

We're getting a spell of warm weather and the people who announce the weather on the radio are thrilled about it: "The beautiful weather is going to last! High temperatures! Get out there and enjoy." They must have air conditioning in their workplace.

Me, I would welcome a cooling trend. I am a delicate flower and I wilt in the heat.

But why do weather people assume that every listener or viewer loves hot, sunny weather and dislikes cool, rainy weather? I like rain. It cleans the air, and it makes the little flowers grow. Especially delicate flowers, like moi.

Sadness

We had a tragedy in my extended family today, or more exactly last night. I would like to go back in time and intervene to prevent it from happening. Or if I could wake up tomorrow and this event will have been a dream.

Caterpillar

Morning off

I'm doing a little straightening up this morning before family members come over for the Labor Day barbecue this afternoon. Even though we'll officially be in the back yard, people will need to walk through my apartment to use the bathroom or to go upstairs and get supplies. And if the kids start to get bored outside, it may end up that my great-nephew is on my computer and his little sisters are playing with toys and puzzles in here. So it behooves me to straighten up.

You would think with a three-day weekend I'd have gotten more done than usual, but no dice. My sister-in-law thinks I should count recovering from the work week as an accomplishment.

This morning I also need to set up my family's team for the local Walk to Defeat ALS, which will be happening in a couple weeks.

Scenes from this morning

Distractions

Last night when I was about to get supper ready, through my open kitchen window I heard a lot of clucking and squawking, like an episode of Foghorn Leghorn when the chicken hawk gets in the henhouse. Our neighbor kid raises chickens, so first I tried to look out the window, then I went outside and to the west side of the house to try to get a better look. I wasn't completely sure where he even has his chicken coop, so I didn't know where to look.

I did not see any predator making off with a domestic fowl in its maw, but I did notice (a) how well the veronica is growing as a groundcover and (b) that a few weeds were sticking up out of the veronica. So I started to pull a few and went up the stairs pulling weeds for a while. Then I remembered I was going to make supper, so I went back in the house.

Reminds me of a story my mom tells about my flower-loving grandma (who was her mother-in-law), how my grandma put a roast in a pan on the stove, then went out to her garden. After a while, my mom, who was staying there, became concerned that the roast would burn, so she tended to the pot. It was another twenty minutes or half hour before my grandma ran into the house, having just remembered the roast. When I knew that grandma, when she was older, I was aware that she frequently had to buy new tea kettles because she would put the water on to boil and go out to her garden for a moment. She would return much later to find the kettle had boiled dry then melted on the hot stove.