Via Sequencia

Welcome home, dear

For almost a week now, Incontesta has been staying with his parents so I could be free to go to work. It's been hard having him away from home, but I've spent as much time there with him as I've been able. Finally, last night, he wanted to come home for the night. He had missed the Ladies Dundee and our nice big bed. It's been a nice night.

Now, back to sleep. Funny how one never knows when one is going to have an overwhelming urge to blog. Cheers!

Knee update

We were given wrong information. Incontesta was released today and is resting somewhat uncomfortably in the easy chair. More soon.

Day of Surgery

Just heard that my beloved Incontesta will be kept in the hospital overnight. Damn! He came through surgery just fine, as far as I know, but I haven't been able to see him yet. Please enjoy this lovely picture of his leg from the day of the accident.

Ode to Il Supremo

Some years ago—not quite sure how many exactly—a young singer who was desperately trying to find his voice ("Am I a tenor? Am I a countertenor?") breezed into the lives of Incontesta and me. This wonderfully effervescent and flamboyant young man instantly intrigued me and very soon after won my heart. He is known by many names—Il Supremo, Prophet Gregorius, Sr. Mary Magnifique, Manprano, et cetera, but his mama gave him the name Gregory. This is my humble attempt to honor one of my favorite collaborative musicians, one of the most fabulous gayboys walking the earth, and one of my very best friends.

This very obviously brilliant—just ask him—musician started studying with Incontesta, and within a few months became quite aware that he was indeed a countertenor; as a matter of fact, he was a soprano countertenor. It was one of the most beautiful voices I'd heard, and I couldn't wait for him to finally "get it" and really come into himself vocally.

Over the next couple of years, I had the privilege of playing for him in lessons and enjoying his progress. It's such a gift to have the opportunity to witness an intuitive musician with more ambition than anyone I know work so well with such a great teacher as is my dearly beloved husband. When they worked together, sparks flew. I was witnessing history.

In 2004, when Incontesta took over as choir director and I as organist at our suburban parish, we brought Gregory on as a section leader. The choir didn't know what had hit 'em, but Incontesta and I sure did. Not only did we have our section leader, but also a resident composer, a substitute director for when we were both away, and an ambassador—or was it a mascot—of bitchiness and hilarity. (I endlessly tease him as I am doing here, but I assure you it is only out of great respect and love for the dear boy.)

It has been my great delight to watch him work toward his newly earned Master of Music degree. And in these past few years, I have had the great happiness to collaborate with Gregory on three recital projects. We had the greatest fun making wonderful music together. Next to my husband, I've enjoyed collaborating with Gregory the most.

Why am I going on like this? Because our dear boy is about to leave us for his next life-adventure as the newest soprano with Chanticleer. I couldn't be happier for him than I am. But I couldn't be sadder for myself. Our boy is moving on toward greater things. I know he isn't really leaving us; he's simply expanding his world.

Glegoly, my dear, Mommy is so proud! I am going to miss having you in my life on a near daily basis. I am going to miss hearing you sing to my right as I play the organ. I am going to miss your infectious laugh. I am going to miss trying to read my music through tears as you and I perform things like Duruflé's "Pie Jesu." I am going to miss sitting with you and bitching about the mundane. I am going to miss kissing and hugging you at least twice a week. Thank you for your compositions that I've had the great honor to premiere. Thank you for all the many things you've done for me. Thank you for being my sister, my BPI therapist, my wedding attendant, my collaborator, and my friend. I wish you the greatest success as you embark on this exciting journey. I love you with all my heart.

God bless the iPhone

Just updated my iPhone to version 2.0. Can now blog from my iPhone. My calendars now all sync properly. I am now, for the first time since buying this lovely phone, able to do all I want to do with it. Gregory, dear, I am finally without any disappointment. I'm giddy really!

5+++ Sequencia Stars

Shuffle up and deal!

Finally, after all this time of obsessing about Texas Hold 'Em by watching it on TV whenever I can find it and playing online with invisible opponents, I played a real game with real live people . . . and was the big loser.

Incontesta and I spent the evening Friday with a couple of great, long-time friends, with whom we've had poker nights before. In the past, we always played stupid games with lots of wild cards; and a bet of 50¢ was eyebrow raising. Friday was different. We played only no-limit Hold 'Em, we used real 11.5 gram chips, and a couple of our pots were as big as $15-17.

Now, I've played way more hours of this game than everybody else at this party put together times 10. And still I was the big loser, dammit! We each bought in for $20. I lost all my chips within an hour and a half, and re-bought another $20. After that, I won a couple of pots, but nothing to blog about. It became obvious that all of us were getting a little tired round about 1AM, and I was dealt two suited connectors. I only had about $7 in chips left, so I went all in. Player to my left called. Player to his left pushed all in, too. Incontesta folded (he was chip leader, as unbelievable as that is to me!) Player to my left called the last bet. OK . . . here we go! While I drew two more cards toward a straight flush, I didn't get a thing in the end and lost the hand. So . . . I and my friend opposite were out, and we decided to stop and figure out who owed what to whom. After counting all the chips in Incontesta's stack and that of my friend to the left, Incontesta had $59.95. That means we owed our host couple 5¢.

A fun three hours, for sure, but I'd rather have had the $59.95 in my stack.

Some of God's creatures are a big pain in the butt

Herman, the squirrel, strikes again. Usually he just makes a mess out of our garbage after we put it in the receptacle out back. A couple years ago, he singlehandedly ate all the tomatoes we had growing long before they were ready to be harvested. Actually, he tasted each one and left the remainder to rot in the grass.

This year, however, Herman outdid himself. He built a nest up in the underneath side of our Yaris and chewed through the fuel line that was obviously in his way. Incontesta discovered this lovely fact yesterday as he was driving home and almost passed out from the gasoline fumes that were creeping into the car. It took him two and a half hours and 3/4 of a tank of gas to go 8 miles this morning to the car dealership to be told it would cost us over $700 to undo Herman's damage (none of it covered by the warranty, of course).

Tomorrow I go shopping for a slingshot.

Magical Moments Musical

For the past twelve summers, I've had BPI, that wonderful fortnight where dreams are made and musicians find rebirth in a new—or rather old—way of doing things. For me, the magic was in finding the fortepiano after years of frustration as a pianist; then, in subsequent summers, finding myself as a full-fledged harpsichordist and organist. In other words, I have BPI, along with its brilliant and encouraging faculty, to thank for my renaissance as a musician.

While every summer in Oberlin has its own special magic, there are isolated moments for all of us individually that are exceptionally memorable. Some of those moments for me, of course, have been my own personal successes in performing; but today I'm interested only in a handful of magical moments of which I was only an observer. These four experiences I will carry with me forever:

• Die schöne Mullerin. A few years ago, my dear friends and colleagues, Max van Egmond, baritone, and Penelope Crawford, fortepianist, collaborated on performances and a recording of Franz Schubert's song cycle Die schöne Mullerin. The BPI community that summer had the once-in-a-lifetime experience of hearing these two amazing musicians perform the cycle in an early afternoon recital. Making the experience even more memorable was Penny's Conrad Graf fortepiano (c. 1835), which she had brought with her that summer for the sole purpose of playing this recital with Max.
• Weinachts Oratorio. During another summer, one of BPI's Bach years, I had the privilege of hearing my beloved Incontesta sing "Schlafe, mein Liebster" from J.S. Bach's Christmas Oratorio on the faculty concert. It was hands down some of his most beautiful singing and a moment I will never forget. An added bonus was that I was sitting with our dear Florence, who held my hand as we both cried through the entire aria.
• C.P.E. Bach Cello Concerto. Within the last couple of years, Catharina Meints wowed us all with a spectacular performance on another faculty concert with C.P.E. Bach's Concerto for Cello, Strings and Basso Continuo. Cathy's playing has always impressed me, but on this particular day, her playing was transcendent.
• Goldberg Variations. Again, a number of years ago, Lisa Goode Crawford, harpsichordist, took us all to that otherworldly place with a performance of J.S. Bach's Goldberg Variations. That same summer, she recorded the work. Much to my delight, the recording was released this year.

Moments like these are rare. I can only imagine the other magical moments musical that have occurred during the 25 years of BPI before I started attending. Many of my friends there who have been at the institute for many of those previous 25 years have similar stories to tell, I'm sure.

This summer, however, I shared a moment with two dear friends, which must join my list above. All of the above moments were very public events. This one was much more private. At the end of a voice lesson that my friend Nancy Zylstra, soprano, was giving to Florence, I began playing Schubert's "Gretchen am Spinnrade." As I began playing, Nancy began singing. What's remarkable about this is that Nancy hasn't sung in years. She stopped singing before I really got to know her about 15 years ago. But Nancy's voice was legendary. It was a sad day for all when she stopped. Well, she and I performed the song for our audience of one, Florence. When we finished, Florence's hands were over her mouth and tears began to well up in my eyes . . . and then in Nancy's. Her singing was powerful, beautiful, and very moving. I always thought I would never get to hear her sing. That evening changed all that. Thank you, Nancy, for my latest (and one of my most memorable) BPI moments. Please keep singing! 

The calendar is now free

Finally, summer has arrived. And today, Independence Day, is as good a day as any to mark the occasion of freedom for Sequencia from all most musical obligations till September. It has been such a crazy schedule since Christmas that I've sadly neglected Via Sequencia, and I regret disappointing the three or four of you who have waited for me to post something. Thank you for your loving reminders to get off my ass.

There's much to say, but not much time to say it right now. Incontesta and I are expected at a barbecue in a couple hours. So . . . I'll see you soon.