Rowan is going through a rather uncomfortable phase. She’s uncomfortable with men. Strange men, familiar men. Any man other than me.
This can be quite uncomfortable for us, too. A couple of Sundays ago, at church, she freaked out and cried big buckets of huge rain-forest tears when a very nice man named Dean tried to say hello. Earlier that morning she had much the same response to the Pastor. The other day we went into our local deli for some cheese and the poor little man who owns the place took her screaming at him very badly.
This has been going on for a couple of months now.
Yesterday the whole family came with me to see a client and pick up a deposit on an upcoming project. This particular client is an establishment employing and frequented mainly by gay men. We were there for a few minutes, during which several men came up and admired our small maleophobe and exclaimed over her beauty. I warned each one about what could happen and that they shouldn’t take it personally.
Not a peep. Not a tear.
After her initial confused looks she had quite a good time. She even laughed a little.
So apparently we’re raising a tiny fruit fly with a very well-developed gaydar.
Who’d a thought?
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This is quite possibly the silliest statement ever written in the English language. But more apt words were never spoken.
If a single Gremmie has a higher Skill than every other Gremmie, then that Gremmie is King of the Beach. If no single Gremmie has the highest Skill, then there is no King of the Beach.”
* found at this online game site.
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Some of you may remember my new job. It’s a great deal of fun and is going well.
But, it’s an organ that I’m playing. What I have at home to practice on is an Ensoniq TS-12 synthesizer. This is only a problem because it has a piano action, as opposed to a synth action (which is based upon an organ’s). This is sort of like practicing guitar music on a banjo.
Learning and rehearsing organ music on a piano keyboard for the last several weeks has been very hard on my wrists, and I’ve only been able to keep up about one half hour a day. When I’m learning a new setting for the liturgy, that’s not enough.
But I’d like to be able to keep my wrists, and thus the job.
Today my wrists feel quite good, in fact, because on Friday I did something very smart and borrowed a fifteen-year-old Yamaha synthesizer from a friend. This is only a temporary solution, of course, but it does confirm that using the correct action not only makes the music come to me better, but I can practice for longer more frequently, and pain free.
Now if only the lighter action could make Rowan nap…
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