Monthly Archives: October 2002

Snap

The only mishap I discovered that had occurred in our absence this weekend was cello-related. My D string had snapped.

This is incredibly frustrating for several reasons. These strings are brand-new, and I love the feel and the sound of them (even though the constant re-tuning is getting to me, as is the fact that I can’t use my fine-tuners; no, it’s stand up and crank that peg at the top of the neck, every twenty minutes); whenever anything new breaks, I feel a perfectly justifiable flare of anger. New stuff should be good for a few years. Of course, the temperature dropped to zero-ish celsius this weekend, and the heat went on for the first time this season; as these are gut strings and are peculiarly sensitive to temperature and humidity they reacted badly, and I ought to be thankful I didn’t lose more than one, I suppose.

No, it comes down to an even baser reason: I can’t afford to replace it at the moment. I kept my old strings as back-ups in case of disaster, so I’ll restring it today, but the balance will be off harmonically. (Old strings, new strings; mixing two sets… well, it’s a string player thing, I guess.)

Next week, then, I’ll be off to the luthier, and now I come back to the same old problem I had before, only slightly different: what brand do I get to replace it? I love the sound of the Eudoxas, but tuning constantly is wearing on me, and if they’re going to break that easily, I might want to try the Pirastro synthetic equivalent to the gut strings, the Obligatos. (For those who have misplaced the information I supplied a month or so ago: gut gives a warm, dark, mellow sound; synthetic cores are a gut alternative that produce a slightly more focused, brighter sound; and metal cores give the most brilliant projected sound you can get.) The Obligatos are comparable to my Eudoxas in price, they’ll be more stable, and they won’t need to be tuned so much. Knowing that my A string is the one that’s really touchy on my cello, I might stay with the gut A, since the sound is so lovely and mellow, and turn to the synthetics for the others as they need replacing. It might be worth it if I only have to tune one string constantly, even if it is the one with the peg that slips badly.

Why is my life fraught with such difficulty? I feel the need to go lie down again in the face of such a deep and consequence-laden decision…

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There’s a new King of Canada blog up. I know, I know, just when you had all lost hope, His Majesty and I actually found the time to sit down together in front of the computer… with any luck, there will be comments by the end of the day, too. Cross your fingers.

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Sign seen at the entrance to a funeral home:

Visitor parking to the rear

Now, “visitor” implies “resident”, and the only residents (temporary or otherwise) of a funeral home really don’t have a parking problem, really, do they?

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Note to self: coffee after a luscious Italian meal in the evening is bad. It’s past two in the morning and I’m still awake. I’ll be dragging myself around the house tomorrow when I finally get up. (I wonder if I’ll be up by the time my father reads my blog?)

General holiday weekend updates:

The husband and I are miffed. Someone somewhere switched the weather that we had specifically requested, and that the weatherpersons had even confirmed. We were supposed to have sun with cloudy periods here this weekend. Instead, we’re getting cloud, and rain tomorrow (today? oh, drat). Not that weatherpersons have any sort of reliable record to their credit.

I had my hair cut on Friday after we got here, and as usual, my hair feels lighter and cleaner and it’s certainly bouncier than it ever gets at home. It’s the water; Oakville water is soft, as opposed to the hard stuff we get out of our taps in Montreal. Makes me want to fill jugs and jugs with it and bring it home, just to wash my hair.

Seamus O’Malley has finally decided we’re pretty darned okay after checking us out carefully without committing himself to actual interaction for twenty-four hours. Even though I helped give him a bath this afternoon, he ended up on my lap before dinner allowing my husband to scratch his head. He’s very intelligent, and absolutely beautiful and silky. He’s smaller than I expected; my parents were describing him as a full-grown cat size, so I was envisioning the bulk of an adult cat as well as the length. Seamus is actually more like a year-old cat in build (that long and lanky sort of look), although I can only imagine his ultimate size, since he’s a mere four months old! He appears quite mature in behaviour as well, and he’s quiet; I’ve only heard him meow once since we arrived. Apparently this is typical of Maine Coons.

Ye gods, it’s actually approaching three.

I did the embroidery on my costume this afternoon, and I’m simultaenously pleased and disappointed. The effect is great. Anyone who has ever embroidered is going to look at my work and turn up his/her nose. It’s not my best, that’s for sure. It was a tough call: do I go for the look with the least amount of effort?, or do I do it right every step of the way and invest even more time in this outfit? I’m getting near the “taking this too seriously” label when I look at the hours I’ve racked up, so I went for the look rather than the perfect needlework. I’m starting to get nervous about this costume now for a completely different reason. After all this work and planning and energy, am I going to enjoy it, or will I have invested too much in it for the return? I must finish it quickly and put it away so I can work myself back into a state of being plain ol’ excited about dressing up.

Arts and Letters Daily has had to pack up its toys and go home, alas, alas. I am deeply saddened. I loved A&LD; I could wander around it for hours and hours, waste lovely bushels of time, and still feel virtuous.

I am amazed at how awake I am. This is not good at all…

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I was tremendously disappointed in the roast beef we had last night. I removed it after the calculated time, my husband decided it was too rare (there is no such state, in my world) and put it back in the oven. Beef roasts have a tendency to keep on self-cooking after you remove them from the oven, and that fact combined with the extra ten minutes under the heat turned the tiny little roast well-done, a meat state I detest because I have to chew, chew, chew it and it loses most of its flavour. The excellent gravy and the bread right out of the oven almost made up for it, though.

In two more days, I will be able to enjoy my mother’s fine cuisine instead, however, and the well-done roast beef will be a thing of faint memory. I will meet the ever-increasingly charming Seamus O’Malley, the new Maine Coon kitten in residence at my parents’ house. In general, I will feel serene and trouble-free. For me, there’s something about being in the abode of your progenitors that instills a sense of “Everything’s okay again,” no matter how old I’ll get, I think. I wonder if other people feel the same way.