Via Sequencia

Foul! Foul!

[Our contractor] of suburban Chicago is unprofessional, unreliable, and uninterested in keeping up his end of a deal.

We also have it under good authority--a very reliable source--that Mr. [Contractor] is a homophobe. We believe that this is the primary motivating factor (or is that un-motivating factor?) for his lack of completion of our contracted work with him. I will not give up my source, but reports are that when Mr. [Contractor] was talking to someone close to me and close to our construction project, he referred to Incontesta and me as those "queens." It seems that Mr. [Contractor] thinks it's okay to call his customers names and then to refuse to do the work he's promised to do.

In my ranting previous post about this job, I was fairly explicit about how unhappy I was with his work, but he made me believe that he was a conscientious person by coming by the house and doing some finishing work to appease my ire. Most of what he did was purely cosmetic, as there wasn't much he could do about the incorrect dimensions of the patio short of tearing it out and having it repoured. I was not interested in that, to be sure! But there remained one last major bit to do: remove what was left in our driveway of the dirt he dug out of our yard and under the old patio, which included a significant amount of smaller pieces of broken concrete that was the old patio. In addition, he was to spread out the remainder of the gravel--the gravel that made up the base for the patio--on our and our neighbors' driveways. That was all that was left to do. So, I, like a big schmuck, paid the guy the balance of what I owed him. And proving even more the level of my schmuckdom, I didn't even ask him to take a hit on my cost of having the air conditioner moved (again, refer to my previous post), which he originally offered to do should he not be able to complete the job otherwise.

He agreed to come over again yesterday at noon to finish up what was left undone after I called him and gave him (again) a piece of my mind. When I returned home after church on Sunday, he had been there and left, according to my neighbor, and my driveway was not done! I called him to see what was happening, and he told me he was done, thanked me, and said, "Have a nice day." When my voice began to rise in pitch and volume as I inquired about his professional integrity, he just repeated his thanks and wishes for me to have a nice day.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

After this, there was steam shooting from my ears! I couldn't believe that I was being dismissed this way...totally and unequivocally disregarded. I said, "Thanks for nothing, [Contractor]." And he said, "Bye." Then he hung up.

I stood there...on the patio...mobile phone in hand...and melted down.

After the mushroom cloud dissipated, my source found me and told me the story revealing Mr. [Contractor]'s bigotry and homophobia. And while this post was intended to help me feel vented, I still feel like there are toxins flowing through my veins.

World premiere without the ticker-tape

My Meriam Mass was given its world premiere this morning at church. It was successful, I think. The notes were all there in the voices as well as in the organ (thank God!). How embarrassing it would have been to play it wrong! The choir sang it beautifully. The congregation was singing, albeit timidly. New pieces always get that treatment. Within a couple of weeks, they'll all be singing it with gusto, I'm sure.

Bottom line: I was well pleased with its first use in the service; it's raison d'etre, if you will.

Having said that, its reception from the masses (no pun intended) was much cooler than I would have hoped. In hindsight, I should have realized it would be just as it was. My therapist keeps telling me that it isn't so wise to ask a question hoping for a specific answer in return. He says that if one does, one will almost always be disappointed.

As much as I was trying to be humble about my work, I was not hoping for it go unnoticed. To be fair, three of my favorite people in the parish who are outside the music program sought me out afterwards to tell me how nice they thought my compositions are. (One friend from outside the parish came to church today specifically because she wanted to hear and sing the pieces, which of course is especially gratifying.) I was grateful for their comments, but they always comment and are very forthcoming with their praise for what we do there to enhance their worship experience. What was disappointing is that no one else saw fit to say a word.

I know I'm on the verge of whining and sounding rather unappealing, but we musicians thrive on attention and need your approval. The piety of Soli Deo Gloria most certainly did not originate with a church musician! It was painful for me to bare my soul in the form of some very personal music today and then feel as though no one gave a shit. It's so typical of Episcopalians to avoid rather than engage. It's no wonder people so often find our signs ironic: The Episcopal Church Welcomes You. Yes...we want you to come and be welcomed by our superior way of doing things, but don't expect us to say much more than hello to you after church. Heaven forbid we should truly connect with you on a human level.

Oh, and yes...peace be with you!

Reprieve!

After a long week of demolition, construction, disconnecting and reconnecting of appliances, and a painfully obvious dearth of hotness among the contractors and laborers, a breath of fresh air finally arrived as a member of the two-man team sent to restore the forced cool air to our townhouse. As I said in a previous post, the concrete guy was on the cuter side, but he can't hold a candle to this guy. How do you like my sneaky photography from one of the upstairs windows? If he had known I was taking his picture, though, he might have smiled, eh?

Men working ahead

This week has been absolutely nuts 'round here at Chez Sequencia with the demolition of our old patio and the construction of a new and improved one. Unfortunately, it's not all gone according to plan. The jury's still out on whether in fact it will be improved to our liking.

Our old patio had sunk over the years where it met the foundation and essentially turned itself into a ramp that directed all rainwater right up against the house. Thankfully, we have experienced no significant problems with flooding, but it seemed to us that it probably was just a matter of time.

So, combining our project with a similar one of a neighbor's, we got a bunch of quotes and settled on the guy who was right in the middle. He was nice, seemed conscientious if a bit too laid back, and was eager to get started. Yeah...and he was on the cuter side.

"Oh, sure," says he. "No problem! We can just lift the air conditioning unit up by straps, suspend it from the patio roof, and we won't even have to disconnect it."

Uh...that would be a no. It is actually going to cost us a total of $500 for the disconnect and reconnect. OK...that's $500 off the balance we will owe him.

Aside from a few other stupid things, the resolution of which is still to be determined, the new patio looks nice and is pitched down and away from the house now. Unfortunately, the air conditioning guy can't come back to reconnect the unit till Monday, so we continue to sleep in a hot house. We've moved to the basement at night, where it stays cooler, meaning that we are sleeping on the full-size futon rather than the king-size Tempur-pedic® in the bedroom. It wouldn't be so bad if the Ladies Dundee didn't absolutely insist on sleeping on the futon with us. The cute little furnaces that they are!

"Oh, sure," says he. "Don't worry about the gravel and pieces of demolished patio that are still in your parking spaces. We'll have that cleaned up by Tuesday so you can park your cars again."

Uh...that would also be a no. It's Friday, and we're still waiting....

All'alba vincerò!

We are exceedingly sad in our house today. With the recent deaths of Beverly Sills, Jerry Hadley, and Regine Crespin, the musical world, and especially the opera world, has suffered great loss. And then yesterday with the death of Luciano Pavarotti, it is certainly a time for grieving. May he (and, indeed, all of these great singers) rest in peace.

"Lady...L-Laaaadyyyyy!"

One of my all-time favorite personalities went a long way to destroying the respect I once held for him. Yes, ladies and gentlemen,  Jerry Lewis dropped the F bomb. And right on live television—as big as life. Shame on him!

Laboring away on Labor Day

No, I most certainly did not want to go a week between posts. My apologies to those of you who have stopped by only to continue to see Rufus's picture at the top.

As you know, it's Labor Day weekend. And while most of you (hopefully) are enjoying a weekend of R & R before the craziness of autumn sets in, I'm finding myself working in order to be ready for the fall--mostly picking hymns, service music, preludes, and postludes. I will say, though, that I'm not working nearly as hard as the crew that's tearing out our old patio in preparation for pouring our new one. Can you believe that a construction crew worked all day Saturday and today and is planning to work most of the day tomorrow, too? Now that's a crew that is dedicated to their concrete work! I hope I can tolerate the jackhammer outside my window all day tomorrow (not to mention my neighbors tolerating it).