I must link this YouTube video if only for my own future entertainment.
Rob Paravonian’s Pachelbel Rant at Penn State
I feel the same damn way about the piece in question. It’s a pity, because the gigue that follows the canon (or supposed to follow the canon, expect people think that this is an isolated piece of music), is lovely.
“My theory was, he once dated a cellist, and she dissed him really bad….”
(Thanks, t!.)
What an incredible sunrise this morning. I’ll upload a photo later, once I’m back from dropping Liam off. It began the day very nicely. (Later: Uploaded! It’s blurry because I didn’t want to use the flash, but I don’t care because it still gives some sort of idea of how beautiful it was.)
We’ve begun a new tradition of allowing Liam to open a gift on Solstice morning. The one he’d been most interested in was the huge gift bag from his godparents, so we let him have that one. He is absolutely enchanted with the Fisher-Price farm. New word today: “pumpkin”. He’s already figured out how it opens and closes and latches (the farm, not the pumpkins). We have heard the word “tractor” a billion times already. Also, there is a little rabbit that came with the animals; I don’t think he’s put it down.
I had deep thoughts about Solstice and what it means to me last night while falling asleep, but I can’t dredge them up out of my allergy-sodden brain right now. I even talked to Liam about it, and have blanked on what imagery I used. I may be able to dig it up later, I may not. I don’t have a lot of energy, which is appropriate considering that the Solstice is all about the sun apparently ceasing movement, a still-point before motion begins again, and the sun is one of the traditional sources of energy and power. (Oh, look, something moderately insightful. Maybe I’m not as out of it as I thought.)
I leave you with a quote from Whaledancer that had me in tears of laughter when I read it, and almost broke HRH when I shared it with him:
[we] had a fire outside in the fire pit for […] adding its strength to the sun (spiritually… we are NOT idiots, just pagans)
Just so. We know that lighting candles and bonfires during the longest night don’t literally provide the sun with strength to begin its motion again. We do it because the symbolism creates a different sort of energy, both within and without us. It connects us to a natural cycle in a sympathetic fashion.
We had a lovely day yesterday — a lunch out with the Preston–Leblancs and a bit of fun shopping, then an excellent evening with t! and Jan during which port was consumed, childrens’ books were read aloud, upright basses were played (well no, only one, actually), doors were fixed, and Christmas cookies were eaten. Oh, and there was Samichlaus. It was the kind of day I wish people could have more often: good food, good friends, sharing time and company. Even Liam had an awesome day, as he was in a great mood when he came home.
Today we’ll do some grocery shopping to prepare for the next week of entertaining, stop off at the bookstore (again!) for a couple of spur-of-the-moment gifts, also the pet store (because Liam absolutely must get rabbit treats for his dearest daycare buddy Boo’s stocking) (what, don’t your pets have stockings?), and I will have to stop off at the office supply store because the postman just handed me the secondhand minidisc recorder I bought through eBay, and I now require minidiscs upon which to record band and songwriting stuff!
Earlier this month, I was heard to accuse BC of stealing our winter.
Now I admit that I am wrong. It’s Denver’s fault.
Focus, people! Think cold, and precipitation in the form of flakes, not drops!
I am intimately familiar with the latter scenario:
I’ve just had a great writing week. There are few feelings more joyous than reading back over the week’s work and thinking ‘that’s not bad at all”, as opposed to the all-too-frequent, ‘it’s rubbish, I’ve wasted a week and I’ll have to re-write the lot.’ And if you think that’s an exaggeration or false modesty, you are very, very wrong. It’s perfectly possible to put in eight hour days and have nothing to show for them but a single idea that, if reworked completely, might be passable.
Jo Rowling, quoted at The Leaky Cauldron.
Actually, taking a couple of weeks off is helping me immensely. I need this distance from the amount of writing I’ve done since the beginning of August.
Rather than reading and eating chocolate in the company of cats, I decided to bake bread yesterday afternoon. And this morning when the boy asked for Shreddies and bananas and refused to eat either, I gave him a homemade roll and cheese instead. “Do you like the bread?” I asked him, and he nodded emphatically. “That’s because Mama made it,” I said. And he proceeded to ignore the cheese (this is big is you know how in love with cheese this kid is) and demolished the whole bun after he had dashed into every room in the house with half a roll in each hand, lifting them up into the air and declaring, “Mama!” before turning to head for another room to repeat the performance. I think I nearly broke HRH when I narrated the action: “Spirits of the kitchen, I present to you this roll, newly baked by Mama! Spirits of the bedroom, I present unto you…”.
My right shoulder is badly inflamed, and I have no clue why. I can only assume it’s from the amount of intense cello-playing there was over Friday and Saturday, but then it ought to have hurt on Sunday or Monday at the latest, not as of Tuesday night. I’ll have to pick up some Advil while we’re out for lunch.
Can everyone please think colder? This warmth and the rain they’re calling for over the weekend just won’t do.
Now that I have successfully tired myself out by journaling all the stuff that tired me out so that I couldn’t journal, I am going to go find a book and curl up with some Christmas chocolate. HRH and the boy have gone out for some sooper-sekrit shopping, and I have no idea when they’ll be home. I ought to wrap presents while I can, but my back aches. Maybe tonight instead.