...old friends...

When Matt and I get together, there is bound to be some silly music making.

Matt Safley and I became friends by chance, mostly, I suspect, because we were in the same vicinity. A co-worker, and a profoundly talented pianist, our friendship was forged through the joys of shared interests and the trials of shared experiences. I can't imagine someone else taking his place in my circle of friends. He is irreplaceable.

Lately, my mind has been circling around the inevitable entrances and exits of people in our lives. I am an out-of-sight, out-of-mind kind of person, something that I admitted to Matt as we walked around my neighborhood in our flip-flops, relishing the warmer weather and a later sunset. It's definitely not one of my better qualities.

I'm not sure why I'm this way, though I expect it's because I'm selfish, and I'm still having trouble owning up to that. Some people will say that we have friends for a time, and when the time is over then the separation becomes a natural part of life. I suppose so. But must it leave such a sting?

As we walked and talked, Matt and I weighed securities and risks. As we sat at the piano and sang, we shared our hopes and dreams for music making. As we harmonized to the ukulele, we laughed and planned. Funny, talented, creative, stylish, hardworking and (my favorite) silly, Matt is a friend worth cherishing and I hope that we remain friends well into our old age.

And I think that's true for all my friends. If you read this and you've felt neglected by me, will you be brave enough to let me know? I'd like to make it right because you matter to me as well. I don't want our friendship to fall by the wayside because of my bad habits.

Though Matt and I had intended to record some new ukulele oldies, we found ourselves needing to catch up a bit more.  It had been many months since we last hung out together. We promise to record and share a video soon. In the meantime (I seriously think I'll regret this) here's one from last year. Please note, we hadn't practiced this song before recording it. No judgements, ok? Just love. If anything, it's intended to bring you into our lives so you can laugh along with us.

Have a fabulous Monday!   

Arch Rival Roller Girls

Rebel Skate Alliance vs. Stunt Devils

My fascination with roller derby began after watching an episode of the ABC Family television show “Bunheads.” (Yes, I watched Bunheads.) Then, when it was featured in an episode of “Bones,” I had to learn more.

Touted as the Super Bowl of St. Louis' roller derby league, I headed to Chaifetz Arena tonight to cheer on the ladies of the Arch Rival Roller Girls. I was all prepared to go by myself, until Karen texted me and said she and her husband, Mike, were coming along. I'm so glad they did! Life is more fun when lived with others!

We found three great seats together as they announced the first bout. Derby names are my favorite part! Names like Prof. Rumbledore, Tragedy Anne, Cloak n' Drag-Her, Ida the Living Dead, Carmina Pirahna, and Artemischief rang through the speakers. St. Louis Mayor Francis Slay blew the starting whistle to signal the start of the game, and we studied our programs and the cheat sheets they provided until we had a pretty clear picture of how the game is played.

M-80s vs. Smashinistas

Like all the best sports, mascots riled the crowds with signs and silly costumes. Jeerleaders launched T-shirts into the crowd with slingshots. (It was comedy gold.) But the best part of the evening was hearing the love the crowd had for these women, with friends, family and strangers cheering, doing the wave, and jumping from their seats when a jammer would pass the pack. These ladies are incredibly loved.

Roller derby might sound silly to some, but trust me, these women are amazingly athletic. I can only imagine the bruises and broken bones that occur from playing or practicing. Karen kept repeating, “This looks so hard!”

Silly faces

Before I had even seen a game, I sent the ARRG an email asking about tryouts. I'm not sure if I'm ready to be roller derby road kill, though. Karen and I are going to practice roller skating sometime soon, and we'll see how I do. Maybe I'll see if I can volunteer first. Also, I'd need a killer roller derby name. Any stunning ideas?

Mike cheering

All in all, it was a great way to spend a Friday evening! If you have never been to a roller derby bout, consider attending one in the next few months. It's well worth the price of admission.

For more information on the Arch Rival Roller Girls, click here for their website, or click here for their Facebook page.

...planned spontaneity...

Andy and I woke up early and spent the morning planning for our next big adventure! His excitement matched mine when we began, but by the third hour, his passion was gone. I can't blame him.

Planning is just plain exhausting.

Scouring the internet, looking up locations, hours, prices and places to eat. Painstakingly making purchases and hoping that it will all work out. Calling attractions on the phone so you can get some much needed information. All while trying to organize your trip around the city into neat piles so that you aren't traipsing here and there all day. And that doesn't include the disappointment when you realize some activities will have to be saved for another time.

Because so much of our itinerary is dependent on outside forces, i.e. weather, we will most likely not be able to stick to our plan, but I feel better knowing that we have one.  I believe that we will be able to react to any disturbances with patience and optimism because we'll be prepared to reorganize our daily adventures to our specific needs in a moment's notice.

There are some people who will vigorously plan, and who will desperately cling to that plan. Should anything happen outside of that plan, they get scared and don't know how to react. Some shut down and cannot function outside of the plan.

Others will almost never bother with a plan, or they'll plan little in an attempt to be spontaneous. Sadly, these non-planners miss out on some exciting adventures because they don't even realize that there is an adventure to be had.

While making a plan is important, there will always be some things that are out of our control and we must adapt. On the other hand, being the right person in the right place at the right time takes some skilled planning. Ultimately, I'm thinking that we're going to need both if we want our trip (and our lives) to be successful.

Are you in the process of making plans? How are they coming along?

...things kids say...

After a big performance, I like to treat my classes to a music game day!  This week, I've been teaching my students the composer game.

Similar to "Go Fish," students ask their classmates for specific composer cards trying to gather four of the same composer to make a book.  The student with the most books of composers at the end of the game wins.  To challenge them further, I review each composer's name and they are expected to say the names correctly, or lose their turn.  Here are some of the best pronunciations I've heard so far:

Puccini:  Punk-soo-ee-knee

Bach: Baaaaaaaa

Mendelssohn: Men-skull-skin

Schubert: Sherbert

Chopin: Choppin, Tripon, Shapron

Wolfgang Amadeus: Wolfgame I'm-a-dress

Handel: Headroll

Tchaikovsky: Chai-cough-squee

Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky: Peter Light-switch Cherpatsy

It's been a fun week.  Kids are amazing!  My students and I have been laughing a lot.  Though, between work and work meetings, I was  unable to get for an official adventure today, teaching something new is always an adventure.

Hopefully these put a smile on your face as well!

...loved by God...

The MOCRA (Museum of Contemporary Religious Art), voted St. Louis' best museum in 2013 by Riverfront Times readers, is the world's first interfaith museum of contemporary art. It engages religious and spiritual themes and is dedicated to the ongoing dialogue between contemporary artists and the world's faith traditions.

It's a small museum, and at first I found it underwhelming and considered leaving. But as I peered more closely, I found myself enthralled at the creative capacity of ordinary people.

There was this piece by Jordan Eagles, a New York based artist, who uses animal blood (obtained from slaughterhouses,) layered at different densities, and heated, burned, and aged to create a sort of stained glass window.

This photograph, by artist, DoDo Jin Ming, which is actually a field of sunflowers, printed in negative and toned, some of them with mesh over their flowery faces for research purposes, making them look like hooded figures and giving a normally cheery scene an ominous overtone.

The paper cutting technique, a Jewish tradition dating back to the 14^thcentury, featured in Archie Granot design make a two dimension medium come alive in three dimensions. I can't imagine the time, effort and patience put into this piece.

In the main hall, a set of wood carvings is displayed on a side wall. Big and bright and colorful, I wasn't impressed at first sight, and nearly walked away. But as I examined the face, I was astounded at how well it had been carved. The accompanying plaque beside the art told of the artist, Adrian Kellard, who died of AIDS related causes in 1991 and his art. It read, “he explored his coming to terms with being an Irish-Italian, Catholic gay man who was loved by God.”

...loved by God...

God and I are going through a rough patch.

It's not like the drag out screaming and yelling kind of fighting like you would see in The Apostle. It's more like we are an old married couple, who live under the same roof yet don't speak to one another. Or like the empty nesters who don't know how to communicate now that our children are gone. And though you may tell me that I'm wrong, I feel that God started this silence between us, and I don't know why. But that's another story for another day.

Please note that I do not feel that God stands over me and insists that I do this thing or that thing. I do not feel that he is angry or cross with me. I do feel like he's waiting for me. To do what, I don't know...but waiting...patiently...and also lovingly.

Perhaps this is one step in the evolution of any God journey. Perhaps these highs and lows, ebbing and flowing through our lives, are intended weave something more beautiful than we could have ever imagined. Maybe...I don't know. I'm really not sure of much right now, except for this:

I am loved by God...no, I am more than just loved...I am so loved.

...and so are you.

For more information about the MOCRA, click here.

...take 2...

never give up...never surrender...

After yesterday's mishap with the granola, and an encouraging response from my big sister, I decided to give that recipe one more try.

I bought more ingredients, lowered the oven temperature and added all the love I could muster. When I finally pulled them out of the oven, they looked (and smelled) so much better than yesterday.

Andy and I gave them a try tonight and they taste... better, but not what I was expecting. Andy ate a few of yesterday's granola bars (I'm not sure how) and he said that he would definitely eat these. He's a good husband. I think I'm going to set this granola bar baking fascination to the side until I get a trusted recipe, or have a friend over to supervise.

Though I tried again, I still didn't achieve my desired outcome. As I was baking, I so hoped they would turn out wonderfully. I wanted my story of triumph after defeat to inspire you to rush out and conquer your own world. But that's not how life works, is it?

Still, I'm hopeful that, whatever you are facing, you, too, will try again...and again...and again.

...adventure gone awry...

Dewey's Pizza School. That was supposed to be the big adventure for today. Learning to make one of the best pizzas in our area. I had been looking forward to it all week. But dear Mother Nature decided to, once again, dump a wintery mix in the St. Louis area, that has left the city silent and still. The class was rescheduled for a later date. So I decided to finally give that granola recipe I'd been eyeing on Pinterest a try. My eyes are still burning...

As a new baker, I'm learning to make sure I follow all the directions. Don't get me wrong, I follow directions...mostly. It's just that sometimes I think adding a bit more sugar, or vanilla, will make it have more taste. Sometimes, though, I can forget to add something that very necessary because I'm not following the directions.

But not today. I measured those ingredients and made sure everything was prepared to be used. I even learned how to perfectly pack brown sugar. The recipe that I chose said that crunchy granola bars come from toasting the oats beforehand, so I prepped them and set in the oven at the correct temperature. I even set a timer (I never set a timer) for ten minutes so that I could stir them. Twenty minutes in, when I opened the oven door to stir the oats a second time, I began to think something had gone terribly wrong.

No fire alarms went off, and I didn't see any smoke in the house, but when I opened the oven door some unseen force hit my eyes making them burn and water. I pulled out the oats 5 minutes before the twenty-five minute bake time and set them on stove. Through teary eyes surveyed the oats, which were much darker than the picture. The burning sensation in my eyes became so great that I had to step out of the kitchen for a moment. When I returned, I poured the honey/brown sugar mixture into the oats and pressed on in the hopes that it was just a little dark.

Oh, how wrong I was.

Nailed it!!

You can still smell the lingering scent of burnt oats, in the house, on my clothes, in my hair. The stench is so bad, in fact, that I felt it necessary to google “are burned oats toxic?” I couldn't find a straight answer, so, they very well might be. If we're dead tomorrow, tell the coroner it was the oats. I think it even woke Andy up, as he came downstairs to see what was going on. And it's so cold outside that you can't even open a window to air out the house.

What's sad is that I think they would be really great, if not for the burned aftertaste. Oh, the aftertaste! The memory of it makes me shudder.

Failing is no fun. Whether that failure is big or small, feelings of defeat, frustration and confusion bubble to the surface and can crush any hopeful spirit. And though we can't change the fact that we've failed, we can decide what we'll do with that failure. Will the crush be momentary, or will we hang onto it indefinitely? Will we learn something new and press forward or shrink back? Will we give up or will we try again? In this moment, we have the power. We decide the direction of our story.

So...this adventure in baking was a bust and, yeah, we're not going to be eating these. Anyone have any suggestions as to what I should do with them? Go to the park and feed the birds?