Category: FWIW

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Had to *SMH* in Amazement

Saw a comment that was only moderately “gabberflastering” on a forum that shall go unnamed. Guy said he had to write in thew sharps and flats that were in the key sig to remind himself when he played through a piece.

Say what?!?

Whenever I taught music or directed volunteer music groups, I generally taught beginning music readers to use the “STARS” system or a variant that is even simpler, for those in volunteer choirs whose music reading chops were. . . only slowly emerging:

S – Sharps or flats in the key signature
T – Time signature and Tempo markings
A – Accidentals not found in the key signature
R – Rhythms ; silently count the more difficult notes and rests
S – Signs , including dynamics, articulations, repeats and endings

Every class session or rehearsal included using something likethe “STARS” system before reading every new piece. *shrugs* Regular exercise of “reading” through a new piece (or reviewing one not seen in a while) really aided in sight reading. Of course, “STARS” is just an extremely simplified version of score study any competent conductor does, but it seemed to be enough to alleviate the “write in the sharps/flats for reminder” issue. . . especially since each freakin’ line in a score begins with the key sig. . .

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I Blame Keto

An old box of my dad’s WWII memorabilia came my way, recently. One of the real keepers was his uniform web belt. The brass was in need of serious TLC, but the webbing was in great shape. Strangely, unlike his Boy Scout uniform belt, I can actually wear this one. Surprise: my waistline is a close approximation of my dad’s when he was in the best condition of his life. Oh, I’m not in a similar conditioning, but shape? Close. I’m a bit taller than he was (and still a wee bit “puffier” *heh*), but in the ballpark.

Interesting.

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Why? It Does Not Matter. . .

. . .why it crosses the road.

On one of our trips to OK for family stuff, we had a quick refresher on what “rural OK town” means. During passage through town, which entailed negotiating a couple of (completely unnecessary, as far as I could tell) traffic lights, traffic (such as it was–our car and another) came to a halt as a chicken made its lackadaisically wandering way across main street in the lil county seat town. No hurries. Apparently traffic (such as it may be) ALWAYS comes to a complete stop whenever the chicken crosses the road. . .

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No Names (In Order to “Shield” the Guilty)

. . .but either someone(s?) in the turnpike authority of a certain state (again, no names, but the relevant initials are O-K-L-A-H-O-M-A) has a macabre sense of humor, or the turnpike authority needs a literate adult on staff, because signs in construction zones read:

“Don’t hit our workers
Pay $10,000 fine”

I tell ya, I don’t have the $10,000 to spare. I started thinking I should look for a worker to hit so I could avoid the fine. . . *heh*

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“Teach Your Children Well. . . “

Lovely Daughter commented today after Mother’s funeral, graveside service, and the funeral dinner at the church (at which neither she not I found anything to eat, though there was some palatable–just!–coffee) regarding my (successful!) efforts when she was a small girl (a talkative three year old? About that) to teach her to say to my mom, “Grandma, please take me to Chik-Fil-A.”

So, in honor of her grandmother, she had her lunch at. . . Chik-Fil-A.

🙂

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No Panic, Just *sigh*

I had a few “*sigh*” moments earlier today. Some early AM car “dwama” with my Wonder Woman’s car, ended up taking her to work & coming back to run errands/prep for tomorrow’s “funeral procession” (couple of hundred miles one way. . . and back), and. . . Pixel, our lil rescue kitty who’d gotten out almost a year ago during a week of the lowest temps in a year, was nowhere to be found. She usually responds to her name, and if not that to “cooing” in the manner she “coos” (yeh, like a dove, really). And where did she show up? Nowhere, mon frere. *sigh*

Now, take note that she has a coat that is effective camouflage against MANY backgrounds (think desert digicam but done really, really well. *heh*), so when I finally saw her, I realized I had looked there earlier and seen her w/o realizing it. Behind a chair, under a table, laying on a heating vent. She still doesn’t want to move from there.

*heh* At least she’s not out in the cold again.

Speaking of which–the cold that is–it was a wee tad nippy this AM here at TWC Central. Car reported 16°F in our driveway, but at about 14′ elevation (up the lil hill leading out of our neighborhood), it reported 18°F, prompting my Wonder Woman to say, “Looks like we’re headed the right direction.” Except. By the time we got to the bottoms ~3/4 mile away, the car reported 14°F. . . and moved down from there as we climbed the long hill to the interstate.

But, never fear! By the time we got to the “Greater Wally World Metro Area” where her MTW school is located (pop 295 when the area recently annexed by a wee village in order to have the county’s WallyWorld included in its borders. Closer to 100 for the village proper), the reported temp was all the way up to 18°F again! Downtown “Greater Wally World Metro Area” was on fire, man!

Mid-morning, temps are a toasty 39°F here at TWC Central, now. Nice. Thank heavens for Globull Warmening.

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The Proper Use of a “Splainsit Stick”

Any time I see “[Whatever]-splaining” used by someone to dismiss an argument, I know the person using the term is really saying, “I don’t have an argument, and I just don’t want to listen, so I’ll use this nonsense term instead of putting my fingers in my ears and chanting, ‘la-la-la-la. . .’ and maybe the horrible person using facts and reason will just go away and leave me with my chosen, ignorant opinions.”

At that point, I realize that the only proper response is raucous mocking.

And that, dear reader, is how one uses a “Splainsit Stick.”

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Santa Claus?

He’s always been a little hinky, but the “naughty-nice” list is an invasion of privacy that even the NSA would quail at.

As I recall it, when I was six, it was a relief when my eight-year-old sister explained that Santa Claus wasn’t real. Oh, I uttered the obligatory defenses, as I recall it, but I’d had my suspicions. . .

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“Gunsplaining,” “Mansplaining,” and Other Lame Excuses for Ignorance

Any time I see “[Whatever]-splaining” used by someone to dismiss an argument, I know the person using the term is really saying, “I don’t have an argument, and I just don’t want to listen, so I’ll use this nonsense term instead of putting my fingers in my ears and chanting, ‘na-na-na-na. . .’ and maybe the horrible person using facts and reason will just go away and leave me with my chosen, ignorant opinions.”

At that point, I realize that the only proper response is raucous mocking.