December 2004
Tuesday, December 28
Some thoughts on a boring day spent babysitting the media production studio...
As any regular visitor will likely have noticed, I've given my humble little web site a different appearance. I don't possess any refined graphic skills, but I do enjoy creating visuals that are at least pleasing and sort of interesting. I would like to be better at it.
There are additional things I would like to be better at doing. I really need to firm up my CSS skills. For the uninitiated, CSS is code that determines the position and appearance of the elements in a web page. It keeps all the layout information in a document separate from the actual content, so the text and images are removed from all the code that determines what font(s) to use, image bordering, and section layout. For example, if you want to change the font the entire site uses, you only have to do it in the CSS document, rather than poring through every font tag in every document that the site contains. There's a lot more to it than that, but you get the idea. Anyway, while I get the gist of it, I need a better grasp of its many intricacies (and believe me, there's a world of them).
I would like to be better at PHP coding, and database concepts. That will come with subsequent projects. I found that, in building a talent search application for the media production studio, some of the coding came much easier than I expected. So it will come with time, but my enthusiasm remains strong, and that's the main thing.
I would like to be a stronger cyclist, but the tradeoff is time, of course. There are many other things to do besides be out on a bike somewhere for a couple of hours. It's not that high a priority.
I'd like to be a little more accomplished in the kitchen. That's mostly a matter of cooking more often, although it would help to have a kitchen with more workspace and an array of good utensils.
I'd like to someday play keyboards, at least proficiently if not masterfully. I took lessons when I was around six or seven. It came fairly naturally and I liked being able to do it, but I absolutely hated practicing, with those cheesy old John W. Schaumm books. While I don't mean to denounce Mr. Schaumm's excellent educational material, what young person growing up in the sixties wouldn't rather play some popular music of the day? Toward the end of my tenure as a piano student, my teacher presented me with an arrangement of "Love is Blue," then a current radio hit performed by Paul Mauriat and his Orchestra which I really liked. I worked with the sheet music just long enough to learn where the notes and chords were, then it was by ear all the way. But as I stated, actual practicing was a dreaded chore, almost as bad as having to go to church every Sunday, and the drums were calling me incessantly.
A note of interest: since my early twenties, I had long assumed that my piano teacher had lived a long and satisfying life, and very likely had departed this earth many years ago...until the wake of my father's passing in 2000, when Mrs. Engels appeared in the line of visitors. Having last seen her sometime in nineteen sixty-eight, it took a moment to realize who she was, and I had to restrain myself from saying something stupid like, "But I thought you'd been dead forever..." I still occasionally see her out for a walk in the neighborhood. I really should stop and talk to her, though I'm not sure she'd care to hear anything I had to say.
Anyway. Wasn't this about things I wish I were better at doing? It was starting to sound like New Year's Resolutions, which I don't really do. Oh, I certainly think about improvements this time of year, as the wheel of the year begins a new revolution, and the determination it takes to bring those improvements to fruition. But it takes a lot more than some happy-horseshit wish list to truly move forward in life. Life's inertias are hard to crack apart, especially with energy levels more common to age forty-six than twenty-six. It just depends on how much you want to change things. And I consider myself lucky that I want change at all, being too well acquainted with people who spend their lives desperately avoiding it like the plague.
Okay. That's enough. I'd best get about making those changes, instead of this little exercise in stream-of-conscious hooey.
Thursday, December 23
You Call it Christmas, We Call it Yule
An interesting, thought-provoking Christmas story.
Wednesday, Dec 22
Overheard behind my workspace at the media production studio:
Ja, hello? (sniff) Vell, besides this teddible cold [keep your distance, sweetie!] I suppoze I'm okay...(hack slurp)...Zunday night, yes...Vell, you sit in der stadium, und you freeze yer balls off, und den dey lose...(sniff)..I can't believe, is teddible...
Yeah, lady, I hear you...
Tuesday Dec 21
Today, I gratefully recognize the Winter Solstice, and look forward to the return of the Sun, and longer periods of daylight.
Also today, my Mom returns home from the hospital, with a new heart valve. She feels pretty good, and after routine therapy, will no longer be short of breath and of questionable blood pressure. I'm told they get replacement valves from cows.
Now, she can get on with the business of hip replacement surgery. I wonder how many flights of stairs I'll ascend during that stay; she's been on the seventh floor.
Saturday, Dec 18
A conservative Christian, "pro-lifer," past supporter of Jerry (spawn of satan) Falwell, NRA member, defender of public display of the Christian Ten Commandments, is deeply concerned about the current incarnation of the Religious Right?
I'd say, NOW they've got a problem!
- read the article -
Thursday, Dec 15
Why am I so tired? All I want to do is have two or three glasses of Rosemount Estates Shiraz and sleep for ten hours.
Well, I suppose I know why. Partly due to the home Christmas decoration marathon I referred to in an earlier post, and which will soon be documented in photographs. (Someone else's home, not mine.)
Another reason is, I've been back and forth between my mother's house, my house, the media production studio, and Vanderbilt Hospital. Last Monday, my Mom had heart valve replacement surgery. They did the job during the day, and after a nice full day of corporate audio attendance (yaawwwwnnnnnn), I walked to the hospital and met up with my sister. Memory is hazy at this point, but I think we hung out in Mom's intensive care unit for awhile, then decided we both wanted to go somewhere for supper. In accordance with visiting hours, eight o'clock was the determined reconnoiter time.
After weighing all of our options, we ended up at Sportsman's Grill at Hillsboro Village. (For Nashville natives or those present during the seventies or eighties, it's the old Spats restaurant.) It turned out to be an excellent choice. We both very much wanted a drink, and due to my ever-present exhaustion and the respectable windchill factor, I ordered a Kahlua and coffee. It went down rather quickly, so I had another. We each had grilled chicken salads, very tasty (although, dear management, you REALLY ought to use green leaf lettuce instead of that pale, useless shred that passes for salad). We were both in a mood to unwind, and realized that we had another ninety minutes to kill. And, the Titans were scheduled on Monday night football, and the pre-game shows were cranking up.
So, another Kahlua and coffee. Then another. We sort of felt guilty for sitting in a sports bar, knocking back drinks, while Mom was lying unconscious in intensive care, but there was nothing we could do at that point, and I think it was between visiting hours. And we assured each other that it was what she would want us to do.
Later on, back to CICU. Mom looked nearly dead, and they had her piled with blankets and packed with plastic inflatable things like swimming pool rafts, pumping warm air through them. Apparently, the body's blood pressure and temperature drops dramatically under major anesthesia, and they have to keep you warm. There were multiple hoses, tubes and needles inserted everywhere, for intravenous purposes and to assist breathing. Of course, she was completely out.
The next day is sort of a blur as well, but I fulfilled all my responsibilities and didn't do or say anything untoward to cause lasting negative memories...such a professional.
Today, Mom is back among the cognizant. She's awake, eyes open, and able to talk a little bit, although her throat is very sore from having the breathing hose stuffed down in her lungs. She leaves IC tomorrow, and will maybe go home this weekend.
After she heals from this, she finally will get a hip joint replacement, which is what started all this heart stuff in the first place. All thus far is well, and hopefully she'll be back in the saddle in time for spring gardening. And, she won't be short of breath anymore. Hooray for modern medicine.
Sunday, Dec 12
3:08 AM
There so many things underway this month, I'm experiencing holiday-induced sanity loss, giving me yet more motivation to eschew the holidays in general. There are too many incongruent events happening all at once, creating logistic and scheduling hassles. I shall soon post a phototour of an extremely large Christmas home decoration I have agreed to do for someone. It demands excessive time and energy, hence the hour.
I'm having a few sips of Laird Applejack, and a pot of mozzarella garlic tortolloni is boiling on the stove.
Good god, it's late.
Thursday, Dec 9
Today, my job is to edit and mix Bill Anderson's XM Christmas special. We have pre-recorded bits from various guests through this year, talking about the Christmases of their past. "Oh, we had no money, our family was poor with eighteen kids, so we ate and hugged and ate some more."
Yes, yes...all very sweet, and true to "the meaning of Christmas."
I wish there were some Jews or Wiccans in the country music world. I'd like to hear about how little Benny nearly lost an eye when sister Freija threw a lit menorah candle at him, or how young Isis had to have his stomach pumped from chewing on the mistletoe from the Sun celebration ritual.
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