Author Archives: Autumn

In Which She Gives A Bow Report, And Is Somewhat Astonished At Her Proficiency

Last night after Liam went to bed, I sat down and played the cello for seventy-five minutes. I had no idea time was flying the way it was.

Late that afternoon while the boy was playing with cars and trains I had sat down to page through one of my copies of the six solo cello suites by Bach, looking for something new to play. I thought I’d try the first movement of the sixth. I was fine for the first two systems and then things started sounding not quite right, so I put it aside and made dinner. When I came back to it I tried it again and it still didn’t work. And then I looked more closely at the clef. I’d assumed it was tenor, but something began to nibble at the edges of my mind, so I turned and pulled out my other edition with the facsimile manuscript opposite the printed page. Sure enough — the edition I’d been reading from was set in alto clef, instead of putting it in the more familiar-to-cellists tenor clef. (The facsimile looks like it’s in alto too, which would make sense as it wasn’t written for a regular cello.) What I had assumed was tenor was actually alto. No wonder things sounded odd.

And then I looked at the rest of the piece and saw three pages of alto clef moving into treble clef and said to myself, Self, this is just going to frustrate you. So I paged back to look for something else to play and found the Gigue of the third suite, which I’d never played before. (I haven’t played most of the solo suites, actually. Half of the first and one or two bits of the second is all, really.)

And I played it pretty much off the top of my head.

I stumbled in two places and worked them for a while, because they’re theoretically simple but my intonation was wonky because I wanted to play in higher positions to avoid an open A string (bars 50-58 and 104-106, if anyone’s counting) and my shifts weren’t secure when I sight-read it. And if I’m in a position I want to stay there as long as possible, so I ended up making fingerings up for the surrounding bars too. Then I played it a few times over because it sounded good, really good, and it was welcome balm for my self-esteem. When I tired of it I moved to playing the two trouble spots in the Faure Pavane (again, if anyone’s counting, bars 62-63 and 69-73, the phrases where the celli are supposed to sound soft and beautiful but not like they’re working at shifting at all, argh) and worked out yet another set of fingerings that may actually succeed this time.

It felt so wonderful to be able to just sit down and play something I’d never played before, and to hear it sound good. My tone was nice, sound production was good, shifting was pretty secure (except in bars 104-106 of the Bach, damn it, where I begin in first, shift to fifth to play the A, then shift down to fourth on the B flat of the following bar — it’s the shift from fifth to fourth that is usually not far enough, or I get frustrated, overcompensate, and shift too much), and everything felt right.

I really like working with this remodelled bow. I was playing with a full practice mute and it still made the strings ring very nicely. It makes the Gigue and the Pavane really sing. Wednesday night at orchestra my hand cramped a wee bit near the end of the evening because the frog and stick are slightly larger than my previous primary bow and I was still getting used to adjusting my grip to it, but apart from making minute adjustments for the heavier weight needing less speed at certain places, especially in both Pavanes, it went well. I had no problem with it at all last night. I like it a lot, and I’m going to keep working with it as my new primary bow. I showed our section leader at rehearsal and she was somewhat impressed, I think, at how successful the remodel had been, lifting an eyebrow in mild surprise (but not horror!) when I told her my husband had done it. It’s still on the heavier end of the scale, but it’s much better balanced and easier to handle. She ran it through some spectacular quick exercises that made me wish I could just throw things like that off. Someday, perhaps.

I’ve been toying with the idea of maybe starting lessons again this summer. It would be a better use of my money than a new instrument at this point.

Ups and Downs, A Sunday Edition

We had a lovely brunch with the Preston-LeBlanc clan this morning. Liam is uncharacteristically subdued; we think he may be fighting off something.

Unfortunately, the oven has died. I discovered this when I went to bake a batch of scones to take over. It’s not the fuses; it’s not the elements being loose. We tried both of those.

As the creature is only four years younger than I am, we’re fairly certain that the cost of a service call plus whatever repairs might be required, if they are even possible, will be more than we’d pay for a second-hand replacement stove. I already have sent queries out to two or three people who’ve listed very affordable stoves on Craiglist, asking year of manufacture and model numbers.

It couldn’t have waited three more months till Ceri and Scott could sell theirs to us before kicking the bucket, oh, no. Of course not.

Respite!

All hail Janice, who while on the phone with me today for a different reason, prompted me to work out that I’d dropped an entire week from my deadline countdown. I know how it happened, too: on my miniature office calendar, the 24th and 31st are sharing the last Monday calendar square with no diagonal line dividing them. So it looks like I come back from Toronto on the 31st, not the 24th, which would have meant the next day was delivery day.

I have — you have no idea how it thrills me to say this — four extra days before my original deadline. That makes eight work days. Plus the three extra days my editor granted me.

That makes a grand total of eleven work days.

I am positively drunk with the possibilities.

It’s as if someone actually handed me all that extra time people have been saying they wish they could find for me. Thank you, universe. And no love, mini office calendar. I’m going to go through you right now and draw dividing lines on all the split days so I don’t make this mistake again.

Bonus Hearthcraft Book Update: Special Weekend Edition

I worked for another two hours last night, moving things around, cutting things out, and generally garnering more carrots.

I e-mailed my editor to ask for a three-day extension, and hated myself for it. She e-mailed me back this morning telling me that of course I could have an extension, that my books were always clean and she didn’t have to worry about them, which was appreciated on her end. I love my editor. With one sentence she wiped out all of my stress. Of course, she probably laughed like a loon at a request for a three-day extension, too. I suspect most requests are for weeks or months, not days.

We took Liam to the mall to see the Easter display of farm animals this morning and it was great fun to watch him scurry around, crouch down to peer through the fences, and laugh at the animals inside. His favourites were the fancy chickens and the goats. He had a good lunch and went down very easily for his nap, so now I have two hours to spend sorting through the MS, finishing sentences and making notes of places that need work.

While we were out I found the mp3 player I will buy after payday. It’s only fifteen dollars more than my first one cost (much less than I expected it to be), and this one is new so it will be fully guaranteed. I may even buy an extended warranty for it.

Oh, and the cinnamon toast made from the failed sweet buns? Big hit. “Mama? I like cimmamyum toast,” he informed me, cinnamon sugar and butter smeared all over his face. So do we, kid.

Hearthcraft Book Update

Total word count, hearthcraft book: 54,644
New words today: 1,600
Carrot count: 4+

Kitchens, shrines and altars, household spirits. (Yes, Prince Bear, there is now an official half-page on brownies, another two pages on brownie-like household spirits from other cultures.)

Despite how negative the day has felt, there was work done, and I’m mildly amazed at it. It’s just been an off day from the moment I woke up. Another album Tina lent me got me through it, Anner Bylsma’s excellent Violoncello of the Seventeenth Century. That and some serious replaying of the live recording of the Tragically Hip’s ‘Highway Girl’ this past half-hour.

The light is so good (about time the sun came out and I can turn off my overhead light) and the Hip are carrying me so well that if I didn’t have dinner to prepare before Sparky and HRH get home I might have continued working, except 55K is coming up quickly and frankly, that’s extremely disconcerting.

A week and a bit left. Four work days, as we’re going to see my parents for Easter. I’ve been thinking ‘two weeks left’ and that’s not true, even if I were staying home. I can’t face this work schedule right now.

A Morning — The ‘Good’ Is Debateable

My mp3 player died last night.

Yes, the refurbished one I got exactly two months ago. No, it’s no longer under warranty. I have no idea why it died; it worked perfectly well the night before, and would not turn on yesterday. And no, it’s not the batteries. I’m not going to be able to replace it for at least a week.

I had a very bad night. Listening to music via headphones helps me fall asleep, and it’s been invaluable. Also, I am understandably cranky because it died after only sixty days of use.

Rawr. And I forgot to pack Sparky’s heavy mitts and snow pants before he left for grandma’s house today. And I forgot to replace the spare clean top and pants in his bag. When I take him somewhere, my mind is working the right way and I remember everything. If HRH takes him, it’s like my mind disengages from the packing mode and won’t access the preparation subroutines beyond making sure he has his drink, his slippers, and his toys.

I used the breadmaker to mix and knead a batch of dough for sweet buns and forgot about it, so the machine tried to bake it before I got to it to turn off the cycle and take it out to shape it and leave it for a second rise.

And it’s dark out. Rawr and grr.

But when the cats knocked over my hurricane lamp that was on the altar, neither the chimney nor the base shattered. I put the half-baked loaf in the oven to finish baking, so there will be sweet bread, at least; maybe I’ll make cinnamon toast tomorrow for breakfast and just not mention to Sparky that it was supposed to be sweet buns.