2002 - Brandeis University



2002

DECEMBER 19. Breakfast today is canned grapefruit sections. Dinner last night was Trader Joe's fire roasted vegetable ravioli (I have not been paid a promotional fee by Trader Joe's) with Ragu Old World pasta sauce (I have not been paid a promotional fee by Ragu, and what's more, "sugar" backwards is "ragus," and what it is, too) to which I added various spices. Lunch was tomato sandwiches on Lite Italian bread.

Today I will likely finish my piece for two marimbas, which sucks rocks. That is, the piece sucks rocks, not the finishing of it. Shun the passive voice! In the meantime, I videoed myself playing "jingle bells" in E major on my Jaymar toy piano (I have not been paid a promotional fee by Jay Eckardt and Marilyn Nonken) to e-mail to friends as my Holiday card. A select few (you know who you are) got an additional card of me playing it in C with my nose on a real piano. Also I made trips to BJs and Trader Joe's (neither of whom have paid a promotional fee) yesterday for staples.

On Tuesday I brought the Corolla in to the Acton Toyota dealership (no promotional fee) for its routine 15,000 mile service, using a discount coupon from, of all places, CVS (no promotional fee). At which time I found out that Staples and Trader Joes are soon to be in my own neighborhood, and various other stores such as Lane Bryant (no promotional fee) are to follow.

Beff's semester finishes today, and she is due home after dark tonight. Tomorrow night we take Big Mike out for Chinese buffet.

Today's picture is our Christmas tree seen in the room with no lights on. Thus the only light sources are the streetlight, the full moon (no promotional fee) and the strings of lights on the tree. The box under the tree is the holiday gift package from my brother in Vermont, which is likely, predictably, to have coffee, maple syrup, pickled fiddleheads, and Country Cow Cocoa in it.

2003

FEBRUARY 10. Today's guest breakfast is me, last Saturday: orange juice, a grapefruit, 2 eggs over easy, and toast. And coffee. This morning's breakfast was only coffee, after a very early-morning run to Brandeis to pick up stuff. Last night's dinner was a can of A Taste of Thai hot and sour soup. A Taste of Thai has not paid a promotional fee for mention on this web page. Lunch was California rolls from Trader Joe's.

This is the first News posting since I got back from the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts (VCCA), which should delight the almost five regular readers of this page. My return was yesterday, a drive of 645.7 miles that took about ten and a half hours, including three stops. The first task upon my return was to feed cats; the second task was to take out the snowblower to widen the passable part of the driveway. I am like that. The third task was, of course, unpacking. There was no fourth task. The fifth task was to deal with a pile of e-mail. Cardinality and ordinality progress in very conventional ways in this household, which is the FIRST time I have said that.

The 18 days I had at VCCA (shoulda been 21, but was cut short on either end by weather, etc.) were productive and very, very fun. It was a grandly fun group of people that got along very well. At the end of my second week, two of the writers produced a faux-Survivor film that utilized many of the Resident Fellows. I was involved as The Guy Who Lent Out His Camcorder and The Guy Who Did the Editing on his iMac. And later as The Guy With the DVD Burner On His Mac. I also took a lot of very pretty pictures there, from spectacular sunsets and sunrises to photos of the unique red dirt of that area.

Stupidly, I forgot to pack the power cord of my computer when I went there. Getting another one from Apple proved fruitless, as they shipped to wrong cord, and to my home address. A week later, a bad apple at Apple used my credit card number to charge some stuff fraudulently, causing me some extra time to cancel my credit card and fill out an affidavit denying the bogus charges. So Big Mike very nicely FedExed me the power cord from home, and all was well with Davy's world.

While at VCCA, I wrote a 15-minute set of songs for voice and violin, on texts that Susan Narucki chose, and a pair of piano etudes. Obviously, I didn't feel like starting a piece for string orchestra yet. Etude #52 is a Jerry Lee Lewis style rock and roll etude on repeated chords, and when you have that premise you just have to go for it. Right now, it is time to be making scores of what I wrote when I was gone. The busy work just piles up.

I am going to have chicken sandwiches for dinner on multi-grain bread that I got at Trader Joe's this morning. There is a new Trader Joe's nearby in Acton, flanked by a Pier One and a Staples, and I went there this morning after coffee. Which lets me tell you that a five-pack of DVD-Rs can currently be had for $14.99, with a $5 rebate coupon. Cost to you: $9.99.

I was pleased to find out that I could use my card reader that I use to read pix from my Nikon Coolpix 4500 like an external floppy drive -- the memory card, 256 megabytes, looks like an external disc to the computer, so I could use the same card that the camera writes the pictures to to bring files to an e-mailing computer. What won't they think of next! I could use the disc to store PDF files of the pieces I wrote, for instance, though the camera was powerless to display them.

Drip is an increasingly needy cat. Now she goes into the kitchen for handouts even when I am not there. I'm sure she's expecting to find some cat treats that just sort of fell off a truck.

And now for some pictures I brought back from Virginia. The first two are the sunset from my first day there and the sunrise the following day. The third (remember what I said about cardinality and ordinality) is a picture of the tall silo in the barn studio complex reflecting the sunset light my last day there. The last is a closeup of the red dirt on my boot.

MAY 30. I returned from Yaddo two days early after having finished more than I expected, and having nothing else I wanted to write right away. So I returned with one more symphony, six more piano etudes, and one more tick bite. Work done at Yaddo is:

Last 60 measures of the second movement of symphony.

Adagio final movement of symphony

Six piano etudes (see list of compositions)

I took about 400 pictures of the place, including the lush wooded grounds as the leaves were coming on the trees -- excuse, me, were coming onTO the trees -- and the people there, the statues, and the late nineteenth century STUFF with which the mansion is filled. Most of the month of May was dreary, cold and rainy, and that meant that the ticks found Yaddo guests (three this week went to the hospital ER for tick bites, and I was the first of those three) scrumptious indeed. Bernardo, a playwright, got a bite on his arm and has to take antibiotics for three weeks; Reiner, a photographer, got a tick bite, and I got one on my chest near my left armpit. I was given two blue pills for it.

The composers there while I was in residence included Andrew McKenna Lee, Anthony Gatto, Brian Bevelander, and Gabriel Gould. And I was very glad to see old friends I knew from earlier Yaddo residencies, including Gardner McFall, Greg Djanikian, Tamara Jenkins, Susan Crile, and Tom Piazza. Personal relationships became intense, as usual, and it was hard saying goodbye to just about anyone. As for me, I would be giving a big dance party in my studio tonight if I had not decided to leave two days early.

Amy D's "Conversations at the Piano" in Chicago on the 22nd went splendidly. I did my usual schtick before the sets of pieces, there was a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed audience for it, and Stacy, Joe and David Smooke came along for the ride, too. Amy played excellently on a less-than-perfect instrument, despite one of her former teachers being in the audience. We had Thai in Stacy and Joe's neighborhood afterwards. My only regret was that logistics made it impossible for me to catch the premiere of Mindy Wagner's piano concerto with the Chicago Symphony. Well, my other regret was flying out of Albany Airport, which has about as much in it to do as River City.

Meanwhile, there is much to be done here in Massachusetts and later in Maine. Beff followed through on my birthday present request by getting me a hammock -- where I will be lying as soon as this page is posted -- and the lawns had to be mowed before yet another dreary and rainy weekend kicks in. The propane tank on the grill needed refilling, as well, and Beff -- all by herself -- replaced the shower head in the bathroom. We needed a new shower head because the heat sensing thing on the old one no longer allowed full-length showers.

An exterminator came yesterday to help rid us of mice. Not sure how we got them, but for a while Bly was into opening the cabinets under the sink, and now we know why -- to investigate the scratching sounds. Once we determined that the sounds were NOT being made by a violist, we sent for the exterminator.

Many recording sessions coming up in the next three weeks, as well as two house closings, a move from one house to the other, and a move of a small truckload of stuff from Maynard to Bangor. Life is full, or at least full of STUFF. Which is why I'm glad I have a hammock now. I repeat that all able-boded who are willing and able are invited to Bangor on June 10 to carry stuff.

Several more reviews of Amy's etude disc came out, including Classics Today and Gramophone. See reviews.

And here are today's pictures, which include the new hammock (Beff put it together when I wasn't watching), a Yaddo guest "pointing" to a silly painting in the mansion, a statue in the public part of Yaddo, and a droplet on a flower on the Yaddo mansion's back veranda.

DECEMBER 3. Moments ago, Beff called and began the conversation in a dry voice: "You haven't updated your website." So now the secret is out. I do this NEWS thing weekly partly for my own ego, partly for the entertainment of you, dear reader, but mostly so that calls from Beff begin, "Hi, it's me." Which is actually inaccurate: even being on the Do Not Call list, all the charities with their hands out and EVERY company with whom we've done business feel free to call at all hours, and whenever I calculate that THIS call must be Beff, I always guess wrong. No panacea, this Do Not Call list. Note to exterminator who got rid of mouse last spring: try your best not to leave scripted messages about the dangers of ladybug infestations this time of year on my valuable answering machine tape. But, oh dear, I seem to have gone rather far afield. Usually what Beff says when she calls (radiated around the house from a tinny speaker) is "Oh, Davy ..... Davy ..... DAYYYY-VEEEEE. ..... Are you there?" If I'm gone, I get to hear that all later, followed by, "...... hmmph. I guess you're not there. Well anyway."

Breakfast this morning was a big coffee from South Street Mahkit and a blueberry muffin. Lunch was a tossed salad and Buffalo wings at the brick oven pizza place in town. Dinner will be something using mesquite grilled chicken -- sandwiches, for instance. Last night's dinner was a large bowl of Trader Joe's miso soup and a bunch of pepponcinis and jalapeno-stuffed olives, as I was improvising before going into Brandeis for a concert. More on that later, if I remember. LARGE PURCHASES for the week included lunch for four at the Korean restaurant in town, MFA tickets, Norton Antivirus for Mac, and a bunch of stuff at Filene's Basement, as will be detailed below.

Last Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, I was waffling as to whether I would take a Logan Express bus in to meet Stacy and Joe at the airport, or drive in. News reports in the late afternoon spoke of amazing travel crushes going north and west from early in the day. But by 5:00, the Massport website reported smooth sailing into and through the airport, and I decided to drive -- thus spending $17 in parking and tolls instead of $44 in parking and bus tickets. The hour and a half drive I expected took 40 minutes, and the airport was virtually deserted -- leaving me plenty of time to walk from terminal to terminal and try to ignore the incredibly bad muzak coming from the speakers everywhere (oboe is the wrong instrument to play the melody in California Dreaming. I mean, really). Stacy and Joe took ATA, an airline which barely registers a blip on the Logan Airport website, and which, as it turns out, has its very own ONE gate at Logan Aiport terminal B. It was easy to find them, and the drive home was a breeze. And we had beer.

Thanksgiving went as planned, and over time the thrice chocolate cake was inhaled by our guests. We dispensed with the turkey leftovers by Saturday morning, thankfully (which means we threw them away). Stacy took a bunch of arty shots of the stove and the bushes in the backyard with the digital camera (some of which might show up below) while I was cooking. And hey, frozen Trader Joe's asparagus turns out to be pretty good. Friday we commuter railed into Boston to do Filene's basement, the MFA, and Legal Seafoods. Filene's was having a special scratch ticket promotion wherein you were given one when you entered the basement which would give you a random discount at the register if you purchased by noon. Beff and I chose a black dress shirt, a gray dress shirt, a hooded sweatshirt type of thing, and a new bathrobe for me, and our scratch ticket yielded a 25% discount. Meanwhile, Stacy bought socks. At the MFA we saw furniture, Egyptian and Asian art, and musical instruments. And at Legal Seafood I got the wood grilled tuna meal. Saturday we took a tourist type visit to the big graveyard in Concord, and then shopped a bit in West Concord, after which we dined on Korean, and I took them to the airport.

The teaching week was short and barely head hurty at all -- last day of classes was yesterday, though I went in today to teach makeup lessons. In theory, we decided on Monday as bowling and pizza day, I played some Mozart as sonata form archetypes, and then made them listen to modern music -- mine. In orchestration we watched some Looney Tunes shorts to identify the orchestration. And in case any reader thought they sensed the sky falling, yes, Maxwell came to his lesson at his scheduled time for the SECOND week in a row! Yesterday I got in early to make a full-size copy of my Dream Symphony onto good paper in order finally to send it to Mario Davidovsky, whose 70th birthday it celebrates. If "celebrates" is the appropriate word here. After three good lessons, I drove to Staples on the corner of Routes 9 and 27 in Natick to get a large size binding for the symphony, and waited rather a long time, as a very nice guy was very meticulous about lining things up. And then I mailed the score to Mario from the Stow post office, after checking with the bowling alley that they would be open next Monday afternoon. (they will be: in fact, in a composition booklet that they seem to use for scheduling, they wrote in "Rakowski. 3:30. 8-10 students" in the middle of a sea of white space)

And last night I went to the student chamber music concert, music by Poulenc, Schubert, Wolf, Schumann, and Debussy. Yes, every one of them dead, but some of them for longer than others (for instance, did you know that Schubert has been dead 1,225 dog years?). Incredibly, every performance was very good, some moreso than others. It's nice to find out that our undergraduates can actually play, and sing. I told someone that the Poulenc songs sounded like "Faure with a headache," and I had to explain what I meant by that. Whatever happened to self-congratulatory, witty repartee?

They that make weather an inexact science are making the forecast for this weekend extremely inexact. The forecast has ranged from light rain to light wintry mix to Snow/Rain to Snow/Wind to (the current) Snow Showers for Saturday and Snow/Wind for Sunday. Problem is, that's the time of the Women Composers Festival at Brandeis, and I am obligated by duty to hear the graduate student concert on Saturday afternoon, and also the "gala" concert on Saturday evening, on which the composition contest winners' pieces are played -- and I know them both. In fact winner Ellen Harrison -- whom I know from the MacDowell Colony in 1995 -- plans to stay with us Saturday night. If there is a big storm, all bets are off. Plus, there is the issue -- rather soon in the season -- of Beff being able to drive back to Maine on Sunday. So the high temp went from upper 50s on Friday to 23 yesterday. I SO desperately want to teach in Florida until I remember there's no culture there and a Republican governor. Or in California, until I remember the government is broke, energy prices are skyrocketing, and a cartoon character who is also a Republican is governor. Or in Arizona until I remember that our house was built before it was a state.

Bly continues to act strange, weird, and pathetic. How does a cat who craves no attention deal with being the center of it? Oh my goodness, I just wrote a poem. He comes in early now, and meows pathetically about who knows what. And he is so often in SCRATCH MY CHIN OOH I LOVE THAT AAGH GET AWAY FROM ME mode. But then again, that's always been normal for him.

Beff's electric shovel arrived. We shall see if it is useful for her. I have my doubts.

Friday I take the Corolla in for the 30,000 mile service, and in the morning I see Seungah for a dissertation consultation. Then Beff gets home around lunch time. Meanwhile, I shall take the opportunity tomorrow to get the pizza ingredients. More and more, students seem to marvel that someone can make pizza from scratch -- ten years ago, I always made pizza for my undergraduate classes at Columbia, where the response was, "made from scratch? Cool!" instead of "made from scratch? You can still do that?"

REALITY CHECK my theory students were, mostly, born the year I started doing crappy work for Educational Testing Service after graduate school, and also the year I wrote the first movement of SLANGE. Oy.

Today's pictures begin with Stacy and Joe at breakfast on Saturday morning -- that is a flexitone that appears to be growing from Joe's head. Next, a stove picture and an asparagus picture, both taken by Stacy, on Thanksgiving day. Next, Bly sleeping on the couch as a prism shines on him, and a detail from a gravestone in Concord. Finally, a 360 degree pan of the Concord graveyard, flattened.

2004

FEBRUARY 5. I did not have breakfast this morning, not even coffee. Lunch was not until 3:35, a lovely tomato, pepperoncini and nonfat cheese sandwich on Milton's Healthy Multigrain Bread, with Hellman's Fat Free Mayonnaise. I had been looking forward all day to this sandwich, and I was right to do so. Dinner last night was Trader Joes miso soup and various snacky things (including THREE Smak sour pickles, leaving me with but one from my New Years Day stash from Kate and Lee); lunch was a small turkey sub from Cappy's down the hill from the music department. LARGE PURCHASES an HP laser printer at Staples for Beff's office, $200 (the Epson printer that came free with the iMac is no longer any good), and $200 worth of scores at Yesterday Music (Schumann, Ravel, Brahms, and Ligeti) -- this includes a nice 10 percent discount on one of the Ravel scores because there was a crease on the cover. Way to go, Yesterday Music. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Frank Sinatra singing "Love and Marriage."

Easily the event of major size during the week was gearing up for the Dream Symphony performances. This incuded driving to Merrimack College in North Andover on Thursday for a rehearsal, training in for a Jordan Hall rehearsal on Friday afternoon, Driving to Merrimack College again on Saturday, and actually driving in and paying $17 (the "event" rate) to park next door to the Conservatory. Yes, my Dream Symphony is half an hour long and has lots of notes, and Susan Davenny Wyner did a fantastic job with it. As did the orchestra. Sunday in Jordan Hall was, at times, thrilling. I still haven't decided to like this piece yet -- too much slow stuff, a few things that should take off compositionally that don't seem to. Though I do think that most of the last movement is gorgeous, and was gorgeously played. For both events, Susan and I had to talk to a pre-concert audience -- about 30 in North Andover, and about 20 in Jordan Hall, and we both delighted at the circular logic we were able to bring forth concerning the music. At the Jordan Hall dress rehearsal, Beff noted "sure would be nice to hear a trumpet now, wouldn't it?" Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, the big motive of the whole piece is an all-interval tetrachord. And MOST surprisingly, there were two Theory 2 students at the Merrimack concert. And less surprisingly, there were graduate students (Ken, Hillary, John, Maxwell, Jeremy) at the Jordan Hall concert who bit their lips and said they liked the piece (not necessarily both on the same day).

And one of the second violinists of the group is someone with whom I used to work in the NEC library in our student days. Not to mention, Josh Gordon plays cello in the band, too.

Before the Saturday night pre-concert talk, Beff and I did a leisurely dinner at Bertucci's, right next to the Merrimack College campus. We both had fish! For the dress rehearsal, I had been given directions to the college's campus, but no indication which of the 50 or so buildings was the Rogers Arts Center. Keeping in mind that it was 10 degrees with 30 mph winds, I frantically called the NESE office for directions to the building, which would have been more helpful if I could have heard them over the chattering of teeth. After the Jordan Hall rehearsal, Beff went to P.F. Chang's restaurant near the Boston Common, sort of to relive our original experience of having discovered it, after going to a Beer Fest, at which time we were totally plastered. We remembered that they make you a spicy sauce at your table, which is an inducement to get you to order dumplings or other food that is spicy sauce friendly. This time, without the haze of beer samples, the sauce was less amazing, and it reminded me of the Sun Bird Kung Pao sauce you can buy in packets -- hey, we can make it at home! Nonetheless, the food itself was excellent. It was disappointing to discover that the restaurant is a chain, though. You can get all the same stuff in Seattle, for instance.

Another event in the week was the Ceely BYE! concert, also in Jordan Hall (24 years since my graduation from NEC and nothing of mine is performed in that building -- until TWO performance three days apart ... grumble, grumble), on which Mac Peyton also performed my "Beezle Nose." An ice storm made driving treacherous enough that I opted to stay home instead of die, die, DIE on a slippery twisty road. I heard from both Yehudi Wyner and Lee Hyla that the concert was a tremendous success. Lee also said that he though the quote from the Carter Second Quartet in Beezle Nose was obvious. He got the Schoenberg Opus 19 quote, too. I know of few music students now that would get both of those quotes. Which means that we have been remiss in passing down the torch and the ritual giving out of buttstix. Memo me on that, and we'll have a meeting.

Thankfully, we are at the end of the variations unit in Theory, and move on to writing a song next week. The best thing about next week, by the way, is that it is followed consecutively by a week of vacation. In class on Monday, I amused myself to no end, enough so that I still crack up thinking about it. Beginning by admitting you had to be there, I will tell the story. Of which I have yet to tire. As I was reading through one student's variations, I remarked that a certain passage reminded me of Bruce Hornsby. He said it was a barely competent banjo transcription. So I said, "then, it's Bela Fleck?" The student nodded. Another student said, "well, for banjo players, who is there besides Bela Fleck?" Then, in one of my patented surreal responses in which something comes out of my mouth before it has registered with the synapses in my brain, I said, "well, there's Popeye." Stunned silence. "Not Popeye the cartoon chracter. See, it's this other Popeye..." Having had to be there is what you are.

The Stoeger check arrived, and I had it in my pocket all day Monday before depositing it. Nobody noticed that I was carrying a lot of money, and apparently I didn't look any different. The Brandeis web page announced it, and sent a press release to the local media. Today there is a note about it in the Boston Herald.

So Yehudi delivered me CD-Rs of the Dream Symphony performances and, alas, they were all staticky. We don't know whether the CD-Rs were bad, Susan's duplicating machine is bad, or the driness of the air is a factor. So I went to Susan's house today, captured the originals onto my Powerbook G4 (thanks, Dinosaur Annex), made her a duplicate copy of all of both concerts, and went merrily on my way. The sound quality is quite good when there is no static, and listening to the adagio movement occasionally gives me the idea that I am, indeed, a composer. That is, unless you ask the Boston Herald critic, whose review is now on Reviews 3.

As is almost always the case when I type these things, the Weather Bug icon is flashing at me, yet again. We have another Winter Weather Advisory for Friday and Saturday, this time for 3-5 inches of snow to be followed by sleet, ice, and rain. Another slopfest! It will be a nice day to be stuck inside, and so I will be. Tuesday night's storm was a big slopfest, too, though briefer. Early on Wednesday morning, I got up, the moon was out, and I was going to shovel the slop. Which turned out to be snow with sleet on top of it, with ice and rain on top of it all. And the shovel could penetrate none of it -- though the sound of me trying was louder than any orchestral tutti I've ever heard. So the front walk is an icy disaster right now, and I can't do anything to fix it -- anal as I am about having a bare walk and a bare driveway. Luckily we don't have the kind of mailman that threatens nondelivery when walks get slippery.

The reason I had no breakfast and an extremely late lunch today is the extreme busy-ness of the morning portion of our program. I woke up early, but not as early as usual, and drove to Brandeis (I covet the parking spot). In my stupor, I forgot to take out the garbage (I usually leave it out overnight, but wind was forecast). I read the paper at Brandeis and took the 8:24 train to Porter Square, hopped on the Red Line, and hoofed it to 125 High Street. There, I went to the 19th floor and made our Tax Year 2003 Roth IRA contributions (doesn't qualify as a large purchase, since we actually keep the money). From there I hoofed it to South Station, rode the Red Line to Andrew Square, and found, for the first time in my life, the Boston Deli and Market on Boston Street in South Boston -- a small, unassuming place cozied up next to a Polish-American Club (or something like that) that has a few generic market items, a cooler with some Coke, makes sandwiches, but importantly, HAS A BUTTLOAD OF SMAK PICKLES for sale. Lee Hyla gave me directions on how to get there (easy!), and I got five jars (picture below). After that, I took the Red Line to Porter, and hung out a little while at Yesterday Music in the Cambridge Music Center, where I picked up a score I had ordered, and needed to pass some time, so I bought some standards -- including the first book of Ligeti etudes. (I fully expect Gyorgy to go out and buy my first book now -- it's much cheaper, and considerably thicker). Picked up some exotic foods at White Hen Pantry in Porter Square. Got some miso soup at the Japanese supermarket near Porter Square (three varieties!). Had a conversation with Palle Yourgrau (Brandeis philosophy professor I know from the Consilience seminar) about music (he's getting into Prokofiev and Shostakovich -- one outta two ain't bad), and then went to Susan Davenny Wyner's house to get unstaticky recordings of the Dream Symphony. And drove back home, gave Beff her phone message, etc. The rest is history.

Beff has secured us a summer rental on Moose Pond in Maine for two weeks at the end of June. After said rental, it is likely that we will stop being cat-free.

Beff is now considering sliding sideways in her career to a job much like the one she has now, except that it's much, much closer, at the U of Rhode Island. They are interviewing her soon, possibly as soon as next week. Which is the only thing that would have gotten her down here next weekend -- she has to stay this weekend for various reasons, not the least of them a production of Much Ado About Nothing, for which she wrote incidental music. The only advantage to the job is at least five hours of driving per week chopped off her schedule. Disadvantage: higher cost of living. Advantage: closer to actual culture. Advantage: closer to actual husband.

Today's pictures: the new Smak five-pak (one of the jars seems to be sliced-up pickles, presumably for a salatka (salad?)), of which I am very proud. Under that, the other stuff on the kitchen table, including a make-your-own-hot sauce kit that the beer night denizens gave us a week ago Friday and a bouquet given me by Bronika and Larissa Kushkuley at the Dream Symphony performance (Bronika is 16 and a full-time NEC student; when she was 13 I gave her two years of composition lessons). Then, an ice crust closeup from the front steps, and the unperfect can't-clear-it-off front walk.

Click on the link below the pictures to hear the last four minutes of Dream Symphony.

SEPTEMBER 17. Breakfast today was Morningside Farms meatless tofu breakfast sausages, orange juice, decaf coffee, and Shaws hash brown potatoes. Dinner last night was lasagna, garlic bread, homemade chocolate ice cream (I ate too much of it) and a little Chianti at Big Mike's. Lunch was Buffalo wings, curly fries and salad at the Chicken Bone Saloon in Framingham, with Beff, as we watched CNN's Hurricane Ivan coverage without the benefit of sound. LARGE EXPENSES for the last week were new Michelin tires for the Corolla, $514 installed and balanced, repaired blower for the Camry plus an oil change, $97, HP inkjet printer plus cartridges for Beff to take to artist colonies, $189. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Red's White and Blue March" by Red Skelton. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE after "Persistent Memory" was performed by Orpheus in Carnegie Hall and I ran up on stage to acknowledge the thunderous applause, I walked to backstage, rather than to my seat, to see if I could get a curtain call. Orpheus would have none of that, and they got up and started walking off before the applause stopped. Thus, stranding me backstage while the next piece was set up. I tried to sneak back to my seat via the edge of the stage, but when the audience saw me, they applauded again. I felt sheepish and tried to ignore them -- which was rude. Apparently I should have gratefully acknowledged the applause. Boy, was my face red that day! TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE PAST WEEK 48.4 and 76.6. RECOMMENDATION/PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 4 (countless more promised: it's Guggenheim and Rome Prize season, people). DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Big cans of tuna for cats at Trader Joes for 35 cents. MUSIC NEWLY TRANSFERRED TO MY IPOD is none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Why do people turning left feel they have to veer right first, thus making it impossible for other drivers to get by? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS include homemade salad dressing, Polish Farms pickles, Buffalo wings, and sugar free popsicles. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK: none. DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL COFFEE: 40. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 19. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a festering piece of fecal matter, the Vice President -- but I repeat myself.

Dear reader, I type to you on the second day of Rosh Hashana, which is a Brandeis holiday for students and faculty but not for staff. This affords me a well-timed four-day weekend, thankfully while Beff is actually in residence in Maynard. We recently realized that Beff has the potential to tie my colony-hopping record this year, but will probably not. She is going to Yaddo for October, the Copland House for November, to Ragdale in the spring, and also to a colony in Costa Rice in April. Those of you with pocket protectors have counted four residencies. The MacDowell Colony called her and offered her a monthlong residency spanning December to January, which she declined. If she had said yes, it would have matched my five from my second year at Columbia: VCCA (six weeks), MacDowell (seven weeks), Djerassi Foundation (six weeks), Yaddo (five weeks) and Bellagio (three and a half weeks). I think I win on the amount of time spent away from home. The difference was that in 1990-91 we actually lived together year round. Well, and owned only one car, and my salary was a lot lower, and I composed slavishly using motives. And we had yet to buy our first new car, or house. Uh oh, nostalgia ain't what it used to be.

Being as I've got the four-day splidge (a new word I hope soon to enter the language), we are doing consecutive "non-Chair" days. Beff recently credited me with the non-Chair day concept, but it is wholly her own. The non-Chair day being a chance to be not responsible for everything, and to do fun things, and to go places where there are no people I've never heard of to make demands on my time and my department's budget. So yesterday -- a predicted nice day which turned rainy -- we hopped over to the Toyota dealership for 7:00 appointments for BOTH our cars and I got new Michelin tires (thus making it far less likely that I will squeal when taking corners, will spin out when I start up after paying a toll or that I will fail my December inspection). Beff, meanwhile, had to get an oil change and get the blower on her Camry fixed, as it would only blow at the highest setting. While waiting for our service, we hopped over to BAGELS PLUS just down Great Road in Acton, where I had the egg on bagel (bland) and Beff had a bagel with lox spread. Our cars were ready by 7:50, so we then hopped over to Staples -- next door -- to shop for a compact printer for Beff to take on her colony hop. We chose a small HP inkjet and also got extra cartridges. On the way home we stopped at Donelans to get wine for dinner at Big Mike's and to get other staples, including a new discovery: we got seven Snapple Green Tea With Limes. We were home and at work (or at least setting up Beff's printer to see if it worked) by 8:30. Luckily, today we were just about getting out of bed around then. Thank you Rosh Hashana.

Last weekend Beff was in Vermont tending to her father, as it was sort of her turn in the cycle. She got back at dinner time on Sunday (we had chicken sandwiches). But I took advantage of THESE non-Chair days to see if I could write something simple, or at least short. So I started another piano etude, this one on a pedal B. Over Saturday and Sunday I cranked out 60 bars of music, about double my usual artist colony rate (I must have been desperate), and am thinking the piece will end up with around 85 to 95 bars. I plan on finishing it today (which, yesterday, was predicted as a washout and today is predicted as mostly fair) or tomorrow, depending on how non-Chair things stack up. Possible titles in the mix include On Time and B (please tell me you know of Heidegger), All That You Can B, B (My Little Baby), and Let It B. Dear reader, you may vote or provide yet a different title (after all, Rick Moody came up with Menage a Droit two weeks after I finished my right hand piece and I used it), but I may have already settled on a title by the time you vote.

It is five days to Beff's birfday. It is next Wednesday, and she will be returning from New York on that day. The day before she goes to a reception for Copland House Fellae, of which she is a jolly good one.

The next thing that happened with yesterday's non-Chair day was a return engagement to the Chicken Bone saloon in Framingham, which we caught this time at the lunch rush, at which time it was packed. We got exactly what we got before -- wings, salad, fries, ice tea, a bloody Mary -- and like before watched CNN hurricane coverage without sound. Yes, we watched both Ivan and Charley in the same gastronomic context. We are, if nothing else, consistent. Several blues tunes played on the jukebox while we were there, and I made a controversial comment: Blues to me is what modern music must be like for most people. All the tunes sound the same to me. Then I made the logical leap to committed scotch drinkers: they know the nuances of single and double malts, whereas to me it's just firewater that makes me gag. So maybe Boston Musica Viva can use my new slogan for their next season brochure: MUSICA VIVA PRESENTS FIREWATER THAT WILL MAKE YOU GAG. IN ALL ITS EXCITING SINGLE- AND DOUBLE-MALT GLORY. By the way, it's no secret that I consider Musica Viva's programming pretty appalling. And not just because they never do my music. Okay, because they never do my music.

The weather actually looks pretty nice this morning, so we are thinking of strapping the bikes on the back of the Camry and doing the part of the Minuteman path that was earlier closed off to us (because of a major road cutting it off and a tunnel not yet built). So if you hear me raving about the Paul Revere Capture Site, we managed to get there.

Big Mike has a nice condo in Hudson, and we went there for dinner last night. His lasagna was exemplary, and of course laden with cholesterol, and was served with Italian sausage and garlic bread, and just a few spoonfuls filled me up. This did NOT keep me from having three helpings of his homemade chocolate ice cream. I was happy to have Lipitor to come home to. Admirably we listened to his stories of how he, and he alone, did some work on the floors in his place (I'm not a tile guy). We also marveled how the speed bumps at his condo complex are concave rather than convex, as if mirror images. Or weird performance art pieces.

Tonight the being entertained continues, as we see Lee and Kate for dinner, and Kate will cook. We are bringing beer as our gift and my string of beerless days may be on the ropes. Unless I see the wisdom of a nice subtle red wine. We will be getting in quite late tonight, and what it is, too.

Perhaps the highlight of the week was something of a Supplementale on Monday night. Beer night looks like it has disappeared into the ether, or at least the version we used to have where Jeff Nichols would say he was coming but fail to show up, where David Horne would drink far too much and hang his mouth on a glass at the end of the evening, where Josh Skaller would break ketchup bottles, and where Bernard Rands would steadfastly order Shiraz instead of beer. President Jeffy is ensconced in Queens, President Horne has been in England for three years now, and President Ken has full-time teaching at UMass Dartmouth (not an Ivy League competitor, mind you), which is so far away from Boston as to make the old regular meetings very inconvenient. Perhaps some new generation of frolicsome lads will take the gauntlet and continue the tradition of Noche Cerveze if not that actual thing. But our supplementale was right here in Maynard, wherein Hillary and Ken came out with food. They arrived seven thirtyish in Ken's new car, and apparently they came straight from the dealer (an oboist with his own gouging machine sold them their car). Ken brought a spicy oxtail sort of stew and also a spicy sort of salad, and we let the wine flow. Hillary was especially impressed by the cat tricks: tear a piece of newspaper and the cats come bounding into the room awaiting a toy; crinkle plastic in the pantry and they come bounding in expecting a treat; throw a crumple toy at Sunny and he defends it like a soccer goalie; and Camden watches TV from really close. Even with all the excitement and the lateness of the evening, I managed to do my Tuesday teaching without much incident. Well, how about that!

We have secured a locksmith to look at, and possibly rebuild, the lock mechanism on our front door. It is very old and broken in a few pieces, and we have never been able to use the front door as our regular door -- because it is a key stuck in the lock on the inside that is the only way to lock it right now. The door has been all but unopenable when it is humid, so we need it fixed, or something. Not to mention. We are broaching the subject of having a half bath put in downstairs where the pantry and refrigerator currently reside. Anyone with the name of a good contractor to do such a thing in this area, yield it now. We figure the mud room will also have to be reconfigured in some way, so we won't be able to use the back door while this rebuilding happens. Hence the concern of using the front door.

Whoa, it really IS lovely out right now. Bike ride time.

This week the pictures are 400 pixels wide rather than 320, because you're worth it. There may be a sly reference to a four-day weekend there, but I doubt it. The first four pictures were taken this week, and the next four were taken by Corinne Pearlman when she and Martler were here last March around St. Patrick's Day. I didn't get them until months later. The first three are from our trip to the Chicken Bone Saloon yesterday, including a picture of our actual food. Then we see Camden, who is newly fascinated with the television whenever it is on. Next we find Martler and me looking at our Buffalo wings at the Village Pizzeria last March, not realizing that we would be in the shot. This is followed by Martler's lunch on St. Patrick's day, consisting of corned beef and cabbage and much, much beer. Then it's me with an icicle posing in the living room, and Martler posing with the bulk of his St. Patrick's Day lunch.

SEPTEMBER 24. Breakfast this morning was Morningside Farms veggie sausage patties with 2% melted cheese, orange juice and decaf coffee. Dinner was Rosemary chicken sandwiches, grilled tofu with Trader Joe's Sesame Orange marinade, and salad with the homemade Good Seasons salad dressing. Lunch yesterday was a large salad with sun-dried tomato salad dressing. Today's lunch is at the faculty club, on Scott. LARGE EXPENSES for the last week were round trip plane tickets to Chicago for December, $195.96 each on United. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Hyperblue, by me. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE Certain songs from the 70s bring back very specific and wistful memories: "Ricky Don't Lose That Number" is overnights spent with friends in our tent trailer; "Horse With No Name" is seventh grade music classes; "Saturday in the Park" is the piano lab in the band room; Chicago's "Harry Truman" is our pickup band massacring the tune in Spring Frolics (I played trombone); and "We need him crucified" from Jesus Christ Superstar is the cheap stereo cassette player in my bedroom and friends visiting. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE PAST WEEK 42.3 and 81.7. RECOMMENDATION/PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 3. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK More places to buy the Snapple Green Tea and Lime variety. MUSIC NEWLY TRANSFERRED TO MY IPOD is none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: I watched a segment on a business channel recently in which an analyst mentioned that the automobile tire industry is practically putting itself out of business because it is making a product that is so good that the market for replacement tires is shrinking drastically; so why did my Toyota tires wear out after just 35,000 miles? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS include jalapeno-stuffed olives, grilled tofu, and Snapple green tea with lime. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK: none. DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL COFFEE: 47. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 2. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a bag of pine needles, fingernail shavings, cat hair not yet brushed off the couch, a piece of laminated paper.

Just before this morning's update, I took my first QuickTime movies on my Nikon Coolpix. I tried to capture Sunset jumping up, soccer goalie-like, for a crumpled paper toy. The only semi-spectacular one I got has him jumping out of the frame, but it's good enough for me. Click on "Sunny Movie" above to see a brief video. Alast, it is also 1.3 megabytes and will take some time to load.

Beff is, as I type this, on the road. Technically, her Camry is on the road and she is in it, but you get the idea; and before she left, she made sure to remind me of the things we did this week that I should be sure to include in this space. Her brother Bob is with her, too, and will be fed a strict diet, while in transit, of a book on tape. They are doing Dad Duty this weekend, the last in a while for Beff, since she's soon to begin her colony hop. Beff also went to a Tuesday evening reception in New York City (where the salsa is made) for Copland House fellae. And there she met several people that it was good to see, including two of my double-fivers from the Home of this site: Hayes and Daron. She stayed at Marilyn Nonken's apartment, thus giving us one more shared experience about which to talk (especially the sofa bed and the light in the alley). And there were plenty of other cool people there, like Sebastian Currier and Judy Sherman, and the whole Music from Copland House gang. Four of the eight fellae for this year were at the reception, two of which stayed at the MacDowell Colony (Chasalow and Festinger) rather than lose two days' work. People after my own heart.

Last week's update brought some lurkers -- I don't recall whether I count them within the almost eleven, or think of them as adjunct -- into my e-mail box. Dr. Uechi had brought the update to Josh Skaller's attention, speculating that I had accused him of "petty larceny" with a widemouth bottle of ketchup. In any case, it was good to hear from Josh, even though the pictures on his web page -- , no leading "" -- haven't been updated in some time. You gotta love a guy who calls his firstborn Wolf instead of Hugo. Last sighting of Josh: November '02. Last sightin of Dr. Uechi: ohmigod I have no idea. 1995? Dr. Uechi, I still have the "Keep On Pumpkin" cutout doll you sent me in Rome. In fact, it hangs on the new bookshelf in the computer room. Don't believe me? Well, looky here.

Dear Mummy

And this morning Sam e-mailed to note that there was no new update yet this week. Well, that and the usual sorts of things he writes about. I now have a small shampoo in the bathroom with the words "SAM'S SHAMPOO" magic markered on it. I figure this is left over from Sam & Laurie's last catsitting gig here, even while Poom was still alive. Either that or the mouse that we had in the house last year was named Sam and got REALLY brazen about his place in our lives.

You'll note that the "days since last beer" shrank rather than grew this week. This is because of two events, which I will cover in reverse chronological order. Wednesday was Beff's birthday, and that was the day she took a bus back from New York and arrived in mid-afternoon to warm weather. We had decided in advance to go to a restaurant to celebrate, and she chose Quarterdeck, the seafood place. In a celebratory mood, we both got Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale on tap, and it shonuff was good. Nice counterpoint to my Buffalo tenders and clam roll. Beff got scallops wrapped in bacon and the Thai ginger tilapia. It was quite a good and filling meal, one of the waitresses mentioned that I got my usual (sorry, but when it comes to seafood I don't get that inventive, and the Cajun blackened meal just seemed too bulky at that point), and our waitress ostentatiously mouthed the words "DO YOU WANT CAKE?" to me, and I just as ostentatiously mouthed the word "WHAT?"

Friday night we rode into Boston for dinner with Lee and Kate, and it was a stay-at-home affair. Instead of bringing wine -- since we didn't know what we would be eating -- we brought a six-pack of the Magic Hat hoppy beer, and Lee served me a bottle -- hence ending my run of beerless days. I'm afraid it was a jinx. When I stopped drinking beer, the Red Sox went on a tear; when I had another beer, the Red Sox went back to being a .500 team. I must remember in the future to use my powers for good. In any case, we had a great plate of appetizers -- I made sure to sit right where the plate was -- and pasta fagioli and melon slices wrapped in prosciutto. It was a lovely dinner -- I had seconds on the pasta fagioli, and we got some to bring home -- and it was entertaining to watch Lee watching the Red Sox and all the body English and monosyllabic words coming out with great force. Now the two of them are about to go to Rome for about three months, and I notice a green-eyed monster sitting just to my left as I type that.

Saturday was Ivan's day to pass overhead, and finally something hit us with a lot of rain, nearly three inches. There was even enough to cause a little bit of water to seep onto the basement floor. So clearly I can not choose the wine in front of ME. (oops, Princess Bride references sometimes just pop out unannounced like that) That was the day I chose for my yearly eye exam. So while a river was forming outside D'Ambrosio clinic, I got to read about laser surgery, the doctor suggested I could get lens implants with a lifetime warranty, and since I knew this would be the year they dilated my pupils, I got Beff to come along for the ride (she passed on the opportunity to shop at DRESS BARN, in the same shopping center). Ooh, the pupil dilating stuff was cartoonishly fun -- as the dreary day looked bright and sunny and wet to me. And my contacts didn't quite fit until the dilation wore off, so I got to be blurry guy all day. I now have 24 new lenses, which are no longer called Optima FW by Bausch & Lomb, but something like a 38 special. Sunday was a nicer, though cooler day, and we took the cats into the back yard several times for their exercise. More separation of personality is evident out of doors: Camden likes to hide under the Adirondack chairs and occasionally climb a little bit up a tree. Sunset likes to jump high for the frisbee when we toss it, and climb the hyndrangea tree nearly to the tippy top. Camden likes to go under the back porch, Sunset likes the wooded area near the canoe. Meanwhile, they are still too naive about nature to be left outside unwatched.

My second week of teaching at NEC was a smashing success. I have been invited to a composition department party at Mac Peyton's in Cambridge on Sunday that I will likely skip. I was also invited by Mac to send him some music for possible performance at NEC either in October or May -- wide range there. Meanwhile, Brandeis teaching continues unabated. Chairmanship was not hard this week, but ominous tones were sounded for the months ahead.

Yesterday I received a summons to jury duty in Framingham. Drat, I knew this would happen if I ever stayed in one place more than three years. What's more, the proposed duty happens to be while I am in Chicago for "Ten of a Kind", so I politely returned the response card with a postponement date of June 16. I don't know what I'm doing then, but it'll be after my birthday. The only alternative is to change our official residence to Maine, and that seems like a bit much just to get out of jury duty (like when B.D. signed up for combat duty in Vietnam in Doonesbury in the early '70s to get out of writing a term paper).

And today I will be mailing the scores and parts of RULE OF THREE to Cambridge University in England, who commissioned it. I am particularly amused by the commissioning info that is required to be on the score: Commissioned by Kettle's Yard with grant-aid from the Fenton Arts Trust for the 2005 Sunday Coffee Concert Series. I wonder if they serve decaf, because given my piece they might need it. What does that mean? Durned if I know. The only other professional stuff to report is that the Marines asked for a color photo for their December program booklet, passed on the toy piano shot, so they're cutting out my head from one of the control room shots of Amy's 2003 recording session; and an e-mail from the librarian of the Marine band saying they'd gotten inquiries about the many-clarinet arrangmement of "Martian Counterpoint" and from whom can they get it. So there.

Oh yes, and a percussionist in Queens wants to get a grant to pay a few composers, myself included, to write him a hand drum solo. The list of composers is a good one.

I finished the pedal B etude and settled on the name KILLER B'S. The title just happened to come out (no one suggested it) while I was at the computer typing an e-mail and Beff came in the computer room and said, "So, pedal B's, huh?". I HAD already thought of "Where the B Sucks", which one of the almost eleven suggested, but it may send the wrong message. This same one of the almost eleven also suggested "In C-flat," which I thought was extremely clever. But which would have necessitated a lot of going back into Finale and respelling everything.

And sad news this week. Susan Forrest Harding, a composer on whose dissertation committee I was at Columbia, died in August at the age of 47 of undisclosed causes. This was mentioned in the VCCA newsletter. Mortality is just that much more evident this week.

The only pictures we have this week are cats. Two of Sunset with the toy piano, and two of Camden on the stairs. This is what I leave you with.

OCTOBER 1. Breakfast this morning was absolutely nothin' (say it again!). Actually, breakfast this morning is decaf coffee with Hood Simply Smart 0% milk and Morningside Farms tofu sausage patties with Kraft 2% milk cheese. Dinner was Buffalo tenders and a Caesar salad topped with herb-rubbed salmon at the Seafood Restaurant, courtessy of Geoffy. Lunch was chicken teriyaki at the Korean restaurant in Maynard. LARGE EXPENSES for the last week include a Nikon Coolpix 3200 camera, bag, and 256 meg memory card, together with a 512meg memory card for my own camera, $320. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Abracadabra" by the Steve Miller Band. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE When we were very young -- say, 10 or 11 -- Jim Hoy and I used to tape ourselves doing bad rock improvisations in our basement on a toy percussion set (Jim would eventually move on to a real drumset) and a guitar poised somewhere between toy and real. Jim did the percussion, I did C and G chords (all I knew) on the guitar. Jim sang nonsense stuff that didn't have a tune (one of our standbys was "End of the World" in which I did a descant in the background repeating the phrase ad nauseum). My sister probably has those (reel to reel) tapes somewhere in her archive, and at this point the blackmail value would be rather high. (Jim currently lives in Portland, Maine working as a construction estimator and playing in a rock band that does original tunes roughly in the style of the Monkees) TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE PAST WEEK 41.9 and 77.9. RECOMMENDATION/PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 4. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK The cats more or less exchange personalities when they go outdoors -- Sunny becoming the rambunctious one and Cammy becoming the more docile one. MUSIC NEWLY TRANSFERRED TO MY IPOD is none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Why is "vegan" pronounced with a long "e" sound? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS include Altoid fruit sours and deli dill pickles. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK: none. DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL COFFEE: 54. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 1. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE this morning's Boston Globe, a brown shoelace, the grill cover, a melted-down crayon.

Beff is on the road as I type again, and as before, I quickly qualify that by saying it's her Camry that is on the road while Beff is merely in the Camry -- "on the road" power is metaphorically transferred to Beff by the Camry by me, and what it is, too. She is making the incredible drive deep into the Confederacy -- her sax and tape/video piece is being done at a mini-festival in Richmond, Virginia tomorrow (Mario Davidovsky is a guest at this mini-festival), and the saxophonist is driving roughly the same distance, from Bowling Green, Ohio. After the performance, she drives as far as Burke, Virginia, where she stays at the Colburn homestead, and then on Sunday she drives almost as far as Yaddo, stopping short to stay with her sister in Cohoes. On Monday she starts her month-long residency at Yaddo. Leaving Davy with dish duty, doody duty, and lots of other alliterative things. The cats will be 16% older when she returns.

Backing off for a moment on leaving chairmanship out of this portion of our program, it had just occurred to me that -- in addition to sleeping all the way through the night only twice now since the beginning of August (yes, it is stressful), I realize that I've also had no dreams I remember in that time period. Except twice. This morning I dreamed about my piece "Hyperblue," it raining, newspaper, and trying to put together a performance score that was soaked. This probably because it was a rare morning that I slept beyond 3 am, and Beff and I were under 376 pounds of covers. Yes, we made it to October without turning on the heat yet, and that meant a rather cold day in the house yesterday morning. Laundering the sheets and cover gave the excuse to enter winter mode on the bed, and it was boiling for a while. Perhaps the extra weight made it possible for me to remember a dream, or to dream at all. Now here's where we stick in the gratuitous metaphor about striving. So go ahead.

As to chairmanship itself, this week it boiled down to: meetings.

Since the weekend was mostly Beffless (she was in Vermont watching her dad and bro' duke it out), and concert-free, I took the opportunity to squeeze out etude #64 on arpeggiated thirds, "A Third in the Hand." Beff and I had several title-considering sessions, and "Revenge of the Thirds" was a strong candidate for a while. Rejected candidates included Third it Through the Grapevine, Seen and Not Third, Thirdy Gurdy, Theater of the Ab Third. Guess what? The lines go up, and they go down. They go at different speeds. And at the thickest point it's almost jazzy. Chalk up another success story. The dotted eighth is the beat, and it begins with the same pitch classes as You've Got Scale. 'cept higher.

The entertainment event of the week was renting and watching the DVD of "The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," a Charlie Kaufman script (Being John Malkovich and Adaptation), and it was fabulous. I rate it as 873.6 times as good a movie as "Mystic River." In fact, I might bring up here that W is 1.348 times as good a president as Mystic River is a movie. In any case, all the overlapping weird stuff was great, and the movie itself was almost as claustrophobic as Being John Malkovich. Solid emotional core, etc., and nobody preening for Oscar nominations.

Yesterday Beff finally became convinced that she would like to have a digital camera to record her colony hop, so we went to Staples to see what was inexpensive and small enough. After looking at HP and Olympia lower-end cameras (they looked fairly poopisch), we noticed Nikon Coolpix 3200s in the locked display case for only 200 bucks, and the 15 shooting modes and ability to take movies with sound convinced us. So while Beff did errands and did ironing, I figured out the basics of the camera and challenged her to take some shots for this very page. There will be two of them showing up below. So now she'll be able to send digital pix, if the computers at Yaddo don't continue to lock out the connection of USB drives, etc. And some of them may show up here, too. Brilliantly enough, the camera runs with two AA batteries rather than with a $40 proprietary battery. And Beff has one of the multi-card readers on her trip so that she can transfer them to her computer. It reads SD cards,and what it is, too.

The fourth hurricane of the season did a dump here after it was through dumping on Florida, and it was sad not to be able to watch the news coverage of it on a TV in the Chicken Bone Saloon. The issue was timing -- meetings, after all. We had scheduled lunch with Ken and Hillary for yesterday at the Chicken Bone Saloon -- they were intrigued by last week's pictures in this space -- but Hillary begged off because her electronic music class called an extra meeting for the convenience of the instructor (and obviously not of the students). Meanwhile, they were planning on hearing Gusty's piece with the NY Phil last night, an event to which I cannot go for boring chairman reasons.

There was some yardwork done this last week. Beff's brother Bob was with her when she returned from Vermont on Sunday, and we decided to remove the three hugely overgrown hostas from the back yard. Bob did the digging and I did the transporting. Gaping holes remain. Yesterday Beff and I transported the picnic table and chairs to their winter storage place in the basement. And also, all the air conditioners are out of their windows and in the attic now. The amount of brush and stuff left behind by nesting birds in the window of the guest room was fairly dramatic.

Speaking of which. The Brandeis Women Composers festival finally happens this weekend -- the first try at one was snowed out last December. And it presents two of at least four mod music concerts this weekend (the others being Musica Viva and Dinosaur Annex). Since my limit per weekend is two concerts, I am doing the Brandeis events only. My friend Ellen Harrison was one of the winners in the composition competition, and my former student Martha Horst is the other winner (I was not on the selection panel), so they will both be in town. The gala concert is actually sold out, and despite that, there is a big mention in today's Globe about the festival. So there will be plenty of disappointed people at the door, I fear. But it will be nice to see Ellen for the first time in NINE YEARS -- oh goodness, we met at MacDowell in 1995. Ellen corresponds with a lag time of about a year, so it seems like a lot less time since then.

Musica Viva having a concert this weekend means that Geoffy is amongst us, and he arrived last night. For whatever reason, he decided to take us out for seafood. At which point I revised the Exceptions list of my beer prohibition to read "no beer whatsoever except when we eat at the Quarterdeck." So each of us had two Sierra Nevada Celebration Ales. And the beer clock was set back to zero. Beff and Geoff (an internal rhyme!) got sole with capers, and I got salmon on a Caesar salad (alliteration is the big finish for that sentence). Both Beff and Geoff left early this morning -- Beff at 6, Geoff at 7:15. Here I bring up again that Geoff is the only guest that drinks the spring water and that washes his own dishes. A boon, I tell you, a boon.

Through no effort of my own, five of the etudes on the "Martian Counterpoint" CD will be on the next program of WGBH's "Art of the States". This is something where you get free web streaming of lots of American music, and the programs themselves are aired on radio in 53 countries -- as if I'll ever see a dime in royalties out of it. The theme of the program is audible systems (?) and it is grouped with a piece by David Lang and another composer whose name I forget. This just means that looking for my name on Google (something I do more often than I admit) will now bring up a few more hits.

Speaking of Martian Counterpoint. Extremely weird review of the CD on New Music Box, also quoted in Reviews on this site.

There was actually an inquiry about the many-clarinetted version of "Martian Counterpoint," as performed by the Marines in July. Since the inquiry came in, I had to request the parts from the Marine guy (Sgt Ressler, short for Renssalaer, I guess), who got them to me in record time. Now they go to Peters. Though they came in a package with a return address of US Navy. Ah, vive la difference!

During my few lulls in composing last weekend (the next one will be months, I suspect), I took the kitties out and tried to take movies, with my Coolpix, of Sunny jumping for things. In the first (click on "Jump movie" above), Sunny is in the sun and blends in until he jumps and you can see him in relief against the fence. In the second ("Ring Toss Movie"), he is in the shade, and I tried to throw a ring for him to jump at, but instead it ended up turning into a ring toss that I won. As Alex Ross said about my Lexicon, wise and funny stuff.

And my first NEC paycheck arrived. Hot diggity dog.

This week's pictures begin with two from Beff's 3.2 megapixel Nikon Coolpix 3200. Alas, it was cloudy when we took the cats out. But you can see that Sunny likes the hammock. We move to various shots of the many shrooms that have popped up in the side yard since the big rain and cold. There is the backyard azalea bush, which you can see I had to trim so we could walk to our house from the driveway. And then we have shots of the fall foliage, which is just beginning.

OCTOBER 7. Breakfast this morning was Miilton's Healthy Multi-Grain toast with lowfat Shaw's peanut butter, decaf coffee, and orange juice. Last night's dinner was a large salad with Good Seasonings dressing. Lunch was the two-slice special at Cappy's Pizza down the hill from the music deparment, with hot sauce slathered on top. LARGE EXPENSES for the last week were none. Unless you count $9 for three bags of topsoil. Oh yeah; and new firelogs, campari tomatoes, Fuji CD-Rs, cat food at BJs, $79. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "You're Just Enough" by Tower of Power. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE My favorite late night snack when I was about 7 was a piece of white bread covered with mustard. My nickname for this culinary delight was "mustardbread," with the emphasis on the second syllable. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE PAST WEEK 31.3 and 69.6. RECOMMENDATION/PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 3. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Squirrels are not afraid of cats. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Why do 40% of Americans still think Saddam was responsible for 9/11? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS include hot sauce added to stuff where it doesn't otherwise belong. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK: none. DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL COFFEE: 60. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 7. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a piece of notebook paper, a stone stuck in your shoe, a vanity mirror, a gardening spade.

As I type this at 7:15 on this Brandeis holiday morning (Sh'mini Atzeret), I note, without irony, that this is a Thursday update, which brings us into classic mode. It is a lovely and cold day, the leaves continue to turn toward red, yellow and orange, and a few of them pile up under the sickly maple in the northwest corner of the front yard. This all reminds me that I continue not to lock the front door with the key because it sticks if you do that -- and the locksmith we called to fix it (and who came to the house and tried to engage us in locksmith-nerd conversation for what seemed like hours but was only fifteen minutes) has yet to get back to us with any updates on the hardware we chose. Fascinating. The weather has turned to fall mode, cracking below freezing for the first time yesterday morning -- alas, our growing season is over. The athletic fields of Brandeis were white-frosted when I arrived at work yesterday, and they were kind of pretty. The weatherman gives us weather into the 70s for the next two days, however; and I have to waste some of that weather tomorrow afternoon in an impromptu short meeting with the President. Of Brandeis.

Beff's humongously long drives got her to her respective destinations, and now she is safely ensconced at Yaddo -- in the East House composer live-in studio -- where she will be until the month name begins with "n". She apparently got pretty lost after missing a turn when looking for the Colburn homestead in Burke, Virginia, but she managed to find the place, eventually; Winnie of the vibrating haunch was pleased to see her. At last check, there was some debate as to where exactly she was supposed to do the sleeping of her, but it was apparently resolved. At Yaddo she is sharing time with three filmmakers at once -- two of whom I know from the MacDowell Colony -- and that brings me back to my first time at Yaddo when the Director was so, um, breathtakingly repressed and, um, less than clueful, that she prohibited televisions or film playback equipment from the Yaddo mansion. Because, you see (I suppose), the Trasks never had a TV. In any case -- I have never seen the East House composer studio, but I suppose I will soon.

In fact, next weekend I plan on driving there for an overnight. And I suppose Beff's sister will work on getting us lodging of cheapness in the area. Meantime, Beff can't get the multi-card reader I lent her from my own computer bag to read the SD card from her digital camera, so I am charged with bringing the original camera box so she can get the pix she's taken onto her own computer. Knowing me, I'll just buy her another card reader. Today. At Staples. After getting stuff from Trader Joe's. Who no longer has those cool grapefruit sours or the pepperoncini I like so much. It'll only be an overnight, because Beff will have to get back to work, AND the kitties will need to be fed.

Speaking of which -- doing the garbage AND recycling AND changing the cat litter is a big job! Especially for someone who raised a nasty bump on his head by hitting his head on a door, on purpose, for comic effect while exiting a classroom at Brandeis.

Speaking of which -- I heard Eric Chafe tell his class that midterms were next Friday. Midterms!?! Now I REALLY have to go to the bathroom.

Almost all of my composition students this week, both at NEC and at Brandeis, had nearly no no music to show. The amount of stuff I had to come up with to fill the full hours for which I was being paid was considerable, AND made my head hurt -- and this was before hitting my head on a door.

The lioness's share of my Saturday was taken up by being at Brandeis for the Women Composers Festival -- a 4:00 concert of music by women graduate students (including former graduate students -- hi, Hillary), and a sold-out event featuring grownups. So at 4 we had double Yoko, Hillary, Grace, and Seungah, and at 8 the two competition winners and a bunch of older, seasoned composers. All in all, both concerts were very, very good. I saw our piano tuning team there twice, of course causing the chair in me to think, "okay, at $125 per tuning, that was..."). Martha Horst's piece was very fin de siecle Vienna, 'cept more whole-toney, and very beautiful, and Ellen Harrison's string quartet was lovely, and beautifully played by the Lyds. Before the concert started, I just happened to find myself seated in front of the Brandeis president and his wife -- and his wife runs the Womens Studies Research Center. So the chit-chat we had before magically turned into major points in her pre-concert speech. She even brought up that Martha had worked with me at "a west coast University that will remain nameless".

I encountered Ellen just before the earlier concert, and it was the first time I've seen her in nine years -- when we were at the MacDowell Colony together. We did Thai at the Treetop restaurant, I played her some music, and we looked at her son playing the violin on . Then we went to the concert, which was hot. Well, the room was, anyway. The "23-voice Boston Secession Ensemble" that sang Amy Beach, Ruth Lomon, Pauline Oliveros and others turned out to have 25 singers in it (one of the pieces was dull enough that I counted). I was wondering how many of the singers were considered to have fractional voices, and by what amount. Maybe four of them sang the "sotto voce" parts? I could go on with this joke, but I won't.

Yesterday turned into a mammoth teaching day because Tuesday I drove to Ken Ueno's teaching 'hood to give a colloquium -- easy money, not so easy driving -- thus having to move one student to a late time yesterday. Driving time from Brandeis to UMass Dartmouth (south and east of Providence) is an hour and ten minutes. The college has a hub and spoke design -- a central bunch of '80s industrial buildings with lots of concrete and parts of buildings seem to fly out like toaster handles -- with a ring road and a bunch of surrounding dormitories. Ken has to share an office with two other faculty, and he is one of only three full-timers. An army of adjuncts does most of the theory and history teaching. I met the Chairman, whose name is different from the Stanford chairman by only one letter (Karol Berger minus the "o"); as the first outsider coming in to give any kind of talk there, I had some sort of special status, and dadburnit, I had to be polite, too. So I played some etudes on CD and on video, and played most of Ten of a Kind, and gave my usual spiel about band music, the military, non-coms vs. officers, etc., and it turned out that the Dean came to the talk, and he is a total clarinet nerd who once played in the Navy Band. He mentioned that in the military, the officers were the ones without much talent who were good at sucking up, but based on the evidence of the Ten of A Kind recording made an immediate exception for the Marines. As no officer he ever encountered in the Navy would be able to come close to Ten of a Kind. So it was a big clarinet nerd moment. And I sure came with the right piece for it.

After the talk, Ken took me out to a local barbecue place. The Buffalo wings I had were excellent, and Ken got the doughnut dessert -- a bag of six small doughnuts that come with a strawberry dipping sauce. Local customs baffle me sometimes.

The cats yearn to go outdoors, and often want to go beyond the boundaries of the fence, which makes me nervous. Beff pulled a tick off of Camden, after all. They now know their names, and know the words "out", "treats" and "kitties", all of which are associated with specific actions (or gastronomic niceties).

I have received notification that the Lincoln Center Chamber Music Society is finally cranking up their publicity machine on the Stoeger Prize. They are taking out ads in the Boston Globe and NY Times, International Musicians something, and something else. Look in your Sunday Times on November 14, rip out the page with the ad, and send it to me. I am expecting almost eleven copies of it.

CD BRAND ALERT: Based on much experience with many brands, I'd settled on TDK as the CD-R of choice. Me being as obsessive as I am, I burned TDK CD-Rs AND Fuji CD-Rs for my talk, just in case there were any problems. The TDKs did NOT play in their system (for the first time ever for me for that brand) and the Fujis did. I am switching to Fuji. Now I REALLY have to go to the bathroom.

Today's pictures are of people at the Women Composers event, and of the cats in their outdoor frolic. I took some GREAT fog pictures on Saturday morning near the mill, and STUPIDLY deleted them from the card before I'd copied them to the hard disk. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. First is Ellen, then Martha (third from left) with Stanford friends, the sculpture in the Slosberg lobby, and Mary Ruth and Josh (of the quartet) with Ellen Harrison (Josh thinks hors d'ouevres are a prop). Then we have kitty shots, which are closer than they appear. "Jump movie" and "Ring Toss movie" hold on for another week (top).

Oops. Too soon I spoke. I discovered the fog shots on the iMac. So, there are two fog shots at the bottom -- the Mill and Mill Pond, and the Ben Smith Dam. Then, two pictures showing the striking but eneven way the leaves are turning.

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? (OCTOBER 15) OCTOBER 7. Breakfast this morning is Raisin Bran and orange juice. Dinner was a sesame noodle bowl from Trader Joes (cutely called Trader Ming's on the bowl). Lunch was a bowl of campari tomatoes with salad dressing and a bowl of kimuchee soup. LARGE EXPENSES for the last week include a Nikon Coolpix 3200 for myself with memory card and card reader, $315, and a whole mess of Amytudes 2 CDs from Bridge Records, $825. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "The Look of Love" as is evidenced on the Groovy 60s collection. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE June 1, 1975, my first public performance of my 7-minute piece o' crap band piece, with me conducting. The opening has an F sus 4 chord sustained in the trombones, etc., over lots of intricate percussion writing. I remember the actual percussionists in the band being quite confused and timid with their parts, but also Verne Colburn sitting in on the percussion section absolutely wailin' away on the claves. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE PAST WEEK 37.6 and 73.8. RECOMMENDATION/PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 2. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK For Camden, Bly's old hiding place under the porch. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Which is rounder -- an orange? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS include kim-chee purchased at Porter Exchange (all gone now). NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK: lots of crumpled up newspaper playtoys. DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL COFFEE: 68. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 15. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a squidge, a slurry, a three-corner hat, six pairs of Don El Verzo's tweezers.

As I start typing this, it is a little less than 7:00 with clouds, mist, and occasional stray showers. The cats were allowed to sleep on the bed last night, and they have a tendency to get rambunctious at the worst times for me. And when they do that they purr so loudly that the bed vibrates. The cats now tend to inhale their breakfast can of Fancy Feast and wait around for me to make another crumple ball for them. They now feverishly wish to go out (and know the word "out") when I return from the salt mines, especially Camden. They're not satisfied to stay in the yard, but now instead of hanging out in the stand of pine trees, they like the driveway and the space underneath the porch -- where Bly used to spend all his outside time. Camden often wants to come in pretty soon, because, I guess, he gets spooked easily by stray outdoor noises. They both now like to climb the fenceposts and sit on them -- for a limited period of time. Normally for play, they either chase each other maniacally through the yard or Camden plays by himself in the flowerbed and Sunset chases insects. He now jumps for stuff a little less than he used to, but given the right manic mood, he will indeed jump high.

Hayes called last night and, among many other things, noted that I hadn't updated this space. Here's where I remind all almost eleven that I'm now doing that on Fridays. Yesterday I had to run a faculty meeting and that is a bit too time-consuming, especially when I have kitties to monitor, etc.

On Saturday the weather was nice, and I took my blue K-Mart laceless shoes with me into Boston (they were on my feet). Big mistake. Those shoes are not made for walkin'. I ended up walking a lot on the sides of my feet, since blisters felt like they were about to form in sympathy. In any case. I went to the Boston Deli in South Boston to check on Smak pickles, and they had none, alas, and so this poor dog had none. Instead, I did get the last two jars of Polish Farms sour pickles (a worthy #2), and picked up a pile of powdered Polish soups -- some made by Knorr, some not. Check out the back of one of the packets, reproduced way below -- anyone out there know what this thing is that I bought for 79 cents? After leaving the Boston Market, I had some time to kill before I could get a train out of Porter Square, so I did Tower Records (yes, they have a Rakowski bin) and Newbury Comics (no Rakowski bin), and walked up Mass. Ave. to a gourmet pizza place and had some slices of rather good pizza for rather too much money. Then I checked out the cool paper store near Porter Square, went into Porter Exchange to the Japanese supermarket and got a bunch of kimuchee soup mixes and a large jar of kimchee, hung out at Pier One until the train was due, and took the train. On these train trips, I got to use my iPod battery backup for the first time, as the iPod had run out of juice, and it was ... well, dweeby of me.

Saturday night was a Lydian Quartet concert, sold out, and it was quite an event. Mozart, Schumann and Ives. The Ives Second String Quartet reminded me of what Mark Twain said about Wagner -- nice moments but bad quarter-hours. There was a cute comedy moment in the middle movement where Judy Eissenberg stood up and played her part forcefully (the story Ives gave is of four men having a spirited argument and then climbing a mountain and experiencing serene beauty, etc.) and sat back down.

On Sunday I made yet another trip to Brandeis in order to attend Rachel Liebermann's Performance Program junior recital, because people were needed to grade it. I enjoyed it, it was good music, and I remember virtually nothing about the Poulenc. Sunday afternoon was spent entertaining the cats, of course.

An e-mail from Amy D let me know that the Etudes Volume 2 CD from Bridge was imminent and she asked if I'd gotten my copies yet. I immediately fired off an e-mail to Bridge asking for 100 of them, and they arrived on Tuesday. Sweet. I then spent plenty of time giving comp copies to people at Brandeis -- even the President -- and mailing some out to friends. Since Amy is in Chicago for three weeks and won't have her CDs, I also arranged for a box to be sent to Ursula Oppens at Northwestern University. Now Ursula will get in on the act, and I will be famous in no time. Yes, no time, indeed. The funny thing (to me) about the whole thing is that Judy Sherman is not only the engineer, producer and editor, she also gets the photo credit for the cover. And Beff gets the photo credit for the picture of me that appears on the last page of the booklet (which you see when you open up the case). Better yet, when you take the CD out you see a picture of Amy's ring of scores -- all 24 of her big scores arranged in a ring on the floor of the American Academy. Cool. So I will be bringing a lot of those with me today ...

... as I drive to Saratoga Springs to see Beff at Yaddo. I'll be leaving a little earlier than I have to because of the predicted rain (here they expect a brief downpour with wind -- not enough to make the Weather Bug chirp, but there is a Special Weather Statement on the They That Make page), and I will be bringing her a bunch of stuff she needs -- including her original camera box, bass clarinet (almost forgot to do that), earmuffs, coat, paper, etc. And I will be bringing her guitar back, as she finished her mandolin and guitar piece. Her sister Ann wasn't able to get us a good rate anywhere closer than Glens Falls, so Beff got us a room at the local Super 8 for 90 bucks. Why I never! We also have a reservation at a nice restaurante in Saratoga Springs, and the restaurant called here, Maynard, to confirm the reservation. Since we have cats to tend to, I will be out of Saratoga bright and early tomorrow morning, stop in Northampton on the way back for an early lunch with David Sanford (I'm paying), and then make my way home. And the cats will not have a gun in their pocket, they will be genuinely glad to see me -- as they strongly point toward where their food is kept.

And crap. There was a holiday this week, so garbage collection is a day later. Today. Can't do it, can't do it.

Due to space limitations at the Midwest Conference in December -- something the Marine Band guys had been trying to get details about since June -- Ten of a Kind will NOT be done on the December 16 concert. As a consolation, they have programmed SIBLING REVELRY on their back-to-back concerts the night before, where there IS enough space. So, a premiere a little sooner (by four months) than was thought. Woo hoo and all that. I had Captain Jason do my dirty work by e-mailing Gene at Peters to ask, innocently, if they would have a bunch of scores of that (as well as of TEN OF A KIND) available for sale at Midwest. Soon I will join the fray. Gene never responds when I do that, though. He does respond to strangers, though. So I had to quickly write program notes, which I did.

I also sent a bio and wrote program notes for VIOLIN SONGS for the Chamber Music Society. As mentioned earlier, save your NY Times November 14 and send me the Stoeger announcement in it.

Martler gets here late Monday night. Big woo hoo there. Another raker!

Today's pictures are three of the cats, a nice dragonfly closeup (Sunny had been chasing it and I guess it was out of breath), foliage around the house, Martler's bedroom window with a cute reflection, and one of the soup packets I got on Saturday.

OCTOBER 22. Breakfast this morning is Morningside farm meatless breakfast sausages and decaf coffee. Dinner was salmonburgers with salad with an Annie Chun's cilantro dressing. Pre-dinner was reception-type junk food. Lunch was hot and sour soup from a package. LARGE EXPENSES include both 'Nard CDs from amazon, imports, $65, each trip to the gas pump, oil change at Jee-fee Loob $39. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Bread Sandwiches" from the 'Nard album. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE In Little League tryouts, I recall trying to impress the coaches with the strength of my arm exactly the wrong way: we had to field a grounder at shortstop and throw to first. To make my impression about my arm, I made sure to throw it over the head of the first baseman. SECOND POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Bill Buckner. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE PAST WEEK 36.1 and 63.3. RECOMMENDATION/PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 1. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK It's really funny when you say "Jiffy Lube" with a foreign accent. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Whatever happened to compassionate conservatism? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS deli pickles (including the juice) and Altoid fruit candies. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK: nothing this week. DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL COFFEE: 5. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 1. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a Jiffy Lube rack, a piece of spittle, the memory card in either of my cameras, the Vice President's brain.

Big event for the week was driving to Saratoga Springs and seeing Beff at Yaddo. Because of They That Make's prediction, I left rather earlier than I had planned, thus arriving at the Wilton Mall outside of Saratoga Springs by 12:30. Luckily, Beff had her cell phone on and I informed her of my nearness. In order to use up a bit of time before getting to Yaddo during the no-outsiders time, I had lunch at Ruby Tuesday's in the mall: it was Buffalo wings (pretty good), a salad bar (mediocre), and a Lime Rickey ice tea (which was bizarre and a lot different from what you would think). From there I arrived Yaddo-ward around 2, where I got special permission to enter Beff's studio during those hours so I could carry her bass clarinet, camcorder, and other stuff she wanted me to bring (in return, I brought the guitar back). Beff has the East House studio, an L-shaped live-in concoction in the basement of one of the buildings, and she played me her guitar and mandolin piece (the MIDI did all the bends and stuff, very cool -- who knew Finale could do that?) and her big band piece she wrote for the Edith Jones project. That indeed was very cool, and it swung (even in the MIDI). Since Edith Jones is actually the name of a dog, Beff called her piece "Winifred Goes Outside." Winifred is the little dog the Colburns own that she encountered on her way to Yaddo.

We checked in at the Super 8 motel near the Wilton Mall and across from Wal-Mart, and then walked around the downtown of Saratoga Springs, walking towards Skidmore College until we got tired of it. On the way back we encountered a fortress-type house on the Main Street, even with a guard. We couldn't tell if it was a church or a museum, but apparently it's an actual house. Hot damn. Then we played around in the big bookstore and went into the stationery and art supplies store that looks from the street like it's a hat store. It is called Soave Fair. We joined the colonists for pre-dinner wine drinks in West House, and I got to see the new Pink Room, which I had once had as a studio: it is no longer pink. We made puns on Elizabeth, the filmmaker's, "brats" project about interviewing children of various kinds of walks of life (army brats is the obvious linguistic model), coming down to Wisconsin sausagemakers' children: brat brats. After all of this intense levity, we ate at a very nice restaurant on Union Street -- not even downtown -- where Beff had made us a reservation. I recall having some rather rare encrusted tuna meal, and I forgot already what Beff had. Given the wine at drinks and the bloody Mary I ordered, I felt the need for an espresso after the meal, so that cut short my string of coffeeless days. It's now back down to five.

Then we retired to bed in the Super 8. Next morning I filled up at a Mobil Station and took Beff on a roundabout drive that used to be one of my exercise bike rides. I also promised to show her the barn where Funny Cide (last year's Derby winner) was brought up, but I apparently forgot an important turn and went around 20 miles out of our way. No biggie, since Beff made it in plenty of time for breakfast, and I could get on the road for Northampton. Where I had a nice Thai lunch with David Sanford, who is doing well both personally and professionally. Then it was on to Maynard, where two desperate kitties wanted some canned food, and they wanted it now (which in context means then, but you get the notion).

The next day, Sunday, was the beginning of this year's leaf raking odyssey. From the front yard and driveway I raked up 7 barrels of leaves and brought them to rest in my two hiding places. As of now, I and Martler have raked up 21 barrels of leaves and pine needles (at least 6 barrels are pine needles), with more to come. Beff comes back next Thursday, and her muscle is being counted on. Monday and Tuesday were a bit too wet for leafing, so Wednesday and Thursday were the next days for it. Alas, so many leaves are still on the trees that duplicate raking is in store. Hee hee. Also yesterday I brought in the hammock and the Adirondack chairs for the season. So this colder weather thing is getting pretty serious.

Martler got here on Monday night, and in record time. He had said he wouldn't get through customs until 9:30, and thus that the Framingham Express bus he was able to get wouldn't get to Framingham until 10:15 or 10:45. But then he called at 8:37 and said he was just about to get on the bus, which was just about to leave. Wow. And I got there at 9:20 and Martler was already there. Later in this update, I'll let Martler tell you what's been a-goin' on. Basically, Maynard is his personal artist colony while he is here, but he also is being put in the service of raking and clearing leaves. Mostly I've been gone during the day, but when I am around and he is working, I usually curb the impulse to call out, "did you hear that, or are you rationalizing it?" And of course, Martler helped greatly with the string of no beer being broken, rather dramatically. As of today, I am off beer again.

I had a doctor's appointment on Tuesday for several things. I had another blood test, and I wanted to find out why I have not been sleeping much later than 1 am most mornings since the beginning of August. He had a few possibilities, and right now we're working with "sublimating and internalizing chairman pressures" -- so I got a mild sedative. Option 2, should the sedative not work out, may be actual depression. Oh boy, my favorite. It runs in my family. For the record, I took a sedative last night and slept as late as 3 am. That may be better. Big, serious doings at Brandeis this week are, of course, exacerbating things, and I am within a hair's breadth of finally submitting my resignation as Chair.

21 years now since I got the 'Nard album on vinyl and Ross and I used to listen to it all the time because of the cool funky beats, and the way Ross would stick his butt out when dancing to "Chillin' Out." I spent mucho bucks to get it on CD, as it is available only as a Japanese import. I also got 'Nard's only other CD, which is mostly a real bust, being gobbled up by ridiculous '80s synth sounds. If I'd known that there was a picture of a break dancer on the cover, I would have known better.

Yesterday the UDRs (Undergraduate Department Reps) held a Meet the Majors party with lots of junk food, and plenty of students and faculty came. They also held a raffle in which my new CD was a prize, as was Lunch With Davy. Lianna Levine was the winner of Lunch With Davy, to take place at The Stein as soon as is convenient. I did mention that Lunch With Davy was not the same thing as Take a Class with Davy.

The five etudes from the Martian Counterpoint album have made it in streaming form onto the artofthestates web page, and you can see for yourself by following the link under "A Little Bit of Davy on the Web" on thi Home of this site. The show itself is not up, but the repertoire for it is there and available. Sometimes it's fun listening to the streaming audio because at times it sounds like bad FM reception.

Soozie called! We talked for quite a while about various things relating to songs, a recording she's making, and the Violin Songs that she's singing at CMSLC next month. We made sure she had the correct version of those songs. And she got the brilliant idea of getting me to include "The Gardener" in a larger set of settings of sex poems, using the same ensemble. She is currently in search of such sex poems, and I relish the opportunity. Especially as it would go onto this recording. And especially as it means writing some more for Soozie. She said she was sending a picture that I was not to include in this space, and I haven't because I haven't gotten it.

The neighbor in the IUBR (Incredibly Ugly Blue Ranch) is digging a big rectangular hole in his back yard. To what end I do not know.

Now it is time for the MARTLER portion of our blog. And here he is. I'm putting him in another color, because you're worth it. Vacation pix

Kitty pix

Martler here. As before, I'll keep this brief in view of my host's habitual prolixity. (Hey, look it up.) Davy has been a fine host of course. He cooks. We've had salmon burgers, chicken burgers/sandwiches (a nice distinction) and, er, burger burgers. All nearly fat-free and delicious. MY RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Trader Joe's peppered cashews, Altoids, burgers. And, in deference to the season, THINGS WHICH WOULD MAKE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE ONE YOU HAVE NOW: phosphorescence, an empty Altoids tin, a bed sore.

So the deal is I'm on leave from teaching and here to write music, shamelessly using Davy (and, in her absence, Beff) as a DIY artist colony. Why Davy (and, in her absence, Beff) should have agreed to having a smoking and beer-drinking limey hang at their house for weeks on end is a mystery the key to which, I suspect, can only be found in the annals of exceptional friendship. D & B rock, for those not already aware of this truth.

The week so far has been unexpectedly coloured (that's 'colored' to you) by the Red Sox playoffs against the Yankees, which Davy and I have watched since Tuesday. Well, how could I not take an interest after the pilot of my incoming plane started making update announcements as soon as we made landfall over Newfoundland? Now I have to try and resist watching the World Series, but man it's hard.

Oh, and raking leaves. That's what else has been going on. Mostly by Davy, but a couple of barrels' worth by me. I gotta get a little more with the programme there. And on the beer front too - I have been leading our host astray. So when I see him delving in the fridge I'll just grab it from him and drink it myself.

Oh, did I mention the kitties are every bit as cute as they appear. No? Well...

Today's pictures are a mere five. Two of the cats -- and I think one may be a repeat. And three of the two of us dealing with the leaves in the driveway on Wednesday. After this is posted, I shall shower, and -- alas -- move on to the pine needles in the side yard and in the back yard. Also, I think Martler wants to do the tour of the Orchard House in Concord (the Alcott House) and of course at some point this weekend we will to the Chicken Bone Saloon.

NOVEMBER 6. Breakfast this morning was a meatless breakfast sausage patty with 2% milk cheese and decaf French roast coffee. Dinner was salmon burgers and salad with homemade dressing. Lunch was Chef-Boy-Ar-Dee nonfat ravioli. LARGE EXPENSES this week were none. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Freak Out, by who knows whom. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE PAST WEEK: 26.3 and 69.3. RECOMMENDATION/PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 11 -- it's Guggenheim season, people! DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK was that I pack leaves into barrels tight, Beff eases them in. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: why do you think they call them "Deans"? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Martler's Altoid sours, chipotle stuffed olives, real lemonade. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK 0. DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL COFFEE: 7. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 1. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a garden rake, a barrel of pine cones, a dead fly, two pieces of stale toast.

After I type this, but likely before I post it, we will be meeting Ken and Hillary at the Wing Bone saloon for wings and the usual stuff. Beff has said that she does NOT want the sexy fries (waffle fries), which she describes as a mere "ketchup delivery system," rather the curly fries, which give you more bang for the buck. We might also ask, finally, what "Roman" wings are. For the driving nerd in all of you, I'll let you know that I plan on a roundabout route, through downtown Natick rather than downtown Framingham, which has oodles of poopy construction.

Things at work are horrid, and we are in crisis mode, morale is extremely low, and everyone is in a bad mood, expecially me. I get cc:'s of everyone's letter to the Dean exhorting he keep the composition program, which I store and will print for some eventual large package. We had a faculty meeting, for which I did the minutes at 8:30 this morning. As Beff noted, "I know of no other department where the Chair does the minutes." And both times there I typed "minuets" instead of "minutes." You can see what I'd MUCH rather be doing. So in my life and in my work I am bummed and depressed. Enough said about work.

Yesterday Beff and I walked into town so I could renew a prescription, etc., and Beff was making movies of the wind -- which was whipping up ferociously yesterday. She made movies of trees blowing, and leaves blowing in whirlwinds, etc., and even made movies of our little dog friends -- including one mounting the other. If any of you almost eleven need such a movie, well, we won't give one up. Where the dogs are, though, Beff started making a movie of me -- ME! I'm a movie star! -- and my cap blew off. We have posted that movie for your viewing pleasure, above.

And last night after the salmon burgers, we went to the Fine Arts cinema in Maynard to see The Incredibles. Which was a silly dumb movie that we both liked a lot. I started thinking that the soundtrack would be nominated for a Pulitzer Prize and maybe beat out by some art movie soundtrack that is released only in L.A. next month. But then I got a hold of myself. Not literally, but you get the idea. Anyway, the movie come highly recommended, but alas there are no fake outtakes at the end.

Of course, raking goes on and on. The big wind from yesterday did certainly help loosen some stuff for raking today, and we did nine barrels already this morning. Wow, faculty meeting minutes and nine barrels, all before lunch! If anyone is Mr. Incredible, it's me. There was also raking on other days this week, and the running total is now 93 barrels raked. The yard where the oak tree is the last bit to do, and we are waiting for those leaves to fall, too. Then I think we'll mostly hang up our rakes.

Because, after all, Beff goes to the Copland House on Wednesday. And to Memphis on Thursday. And then back to Copland House. And then to Providence next week. And then to my Chamber Music Society perf on the 18th. I'm still trying to figure out my travel plans for that week, but maybe if I do an update next week I'll let you know.

Martler went to NYC on Monday and we haven't heard his plans for returning yet. Well, other than that it will be by bus. But as to when, we do not know. We let him take us to the Blue Room Grill in Cambridge on Saturday as his sort of rent payment, and the food was very good indeed. And I had espresso, thus setting the clock on the real coffee countup back to 0. We also had (shudder) beer before dinner at the Cambridge Brewing Company next to the restaurant, and it was good brother, it was good brother, it was god-dam good.

We tried cleaning the window fan from the bathroom, but the dust was too internally caked to do much about it, and it was very hard to get open -- dadburn plastic construction -- so I went to K-Mart for a new one. They didn't have any, no surprise. Got one from Ace Hardware in Acton, and now it's in the window. It's MUCH louder than the last one. Oh dear, I'm afraid I might have to look at Tar-zhay for one on one of these drives back from work.

I talked about TEN OF A KIND in Jessie Ann Owens's Symphony class yesterday, and apparently I did fine. We looked at structure, cyclical things, and I got to tell lots of stories about what makes the piece American. Mostly it was funny stories about a Massachusetts Yankee in Col. Foley's court, but you get the idea. Then New Music Box featured Yotam Haber, who had won a band composition prize for a piece he wrote for Cornell and showed me last spring when the players were having trouble. I made a lot of comments, and for that I got "mentoring" credit in the little feature article. Mentor spelled inside out is tnoerm.

Luckily, there were no concerts for me to attend last week. Tonight it's grad composers, tomorrow the Brandeis Wellesley Orchestra, and Thursday the NEC Wind Ensemble -- I do dinner with Gusty, who has a piece on the concert, before the concert. And what it is, too.

Pictures this time include how the cats loved the box the VCCA sent me; territory raked; territory yet to rake; both cats snapped this afternoon; and highlights from lunch with Hillary and Ken at the Chicken Bone Saloon, which just a little earlier in this update was still in the future. Funny how time flies.

NOVEMBER 12. Breakfast this morning was decaf coffee, orange juice and a b'eggel from South Street Market, down the street from the music department on the other side of the commuter rail tracks. Dinner was chicken satay and chicken teriyaki at a restaurant near NEC. Lunch was nothing (I forgot. So sue me). LARGE EXPENSES this week were dinner with ART, $64, parking near NEC, $17. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS I Love The Way You Move by Outkast. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: my junior year in high school singing in the chorus in the Christmas concert, we were singing "Fum, Fum, Fum." Halfway through my voice squeaked, and it struck me as highly amusing -- amusing enough that I sort of laughed while singing the rest of the tune, and it caught on in those near me. Afterwards the others who were also laughing during the performance asked what had been so funny. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE PAST WEEK: 17.8 and 64.4. RECOMMENDATION/PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 1. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK was how insidious the Rhapsody in Blue is -- I couldn't get it out of my head for three days, especially (one of) the (many) cadenza(s) with figuration around repeated notes. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: If today is the first day of the rest of your life, then what is tomorrow? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Altoid sours, pepperoncini, Buffalo wings. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK 0. DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL COFFEE: 13. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 1. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the sound of one hand clapping, a tree falling in the forest, the two mountains created without a valley between, yo mama.

I write from a winter wonderland. Early this morning as I got up and went to Brandeis, They That Make had promised rain for today mixing with and changing to snow overnight, dusting to an inch. Right now at 2:30 in the afternoon, there is certainly more than that, and the forecast is upped to 2-4 inches by the end of the storm. They That Make are as accurate on this one as I am at predicting precisely when the chords at the end of the first movement of Stravinsky's Symphony in C will come. Martler was raking leaves just yesterday -- having brought the season total to 99 barrels -- and I don't want to be shoveling in such close proximity (temporally) to raking. It's just not right, it's just not fair, etc.

Nonetheless, I did go into Brandeis briefly this morning to pick up some financial statements (joy of joys), and on the way home went to visit Nancy Redgate, our dept. administrator who has been out sick for more than three weeks. She is in a facility in Sudbury, and was getting the royal treatment. It was good to see her, I stayed an hour and a half, and she obviously likes company -- if you would like to visit, drop me a line and I'll tell you where to go. From her window I spied the light sleet becoming very light snow, becoming heavier snow. Which was not accumulating when I got home, but which has done so since then. Since getting home, I've been interviewed by the Brandeis Justice (student newspaper) about the proposed cuts in composition, arranged lunch tomorrow in Hudson with Geoffy, and dealt with the newest 50 (exactly) e-mails.

As to the proposed cut in composition: things move forward. More work for me. Morale is low. Musicologists are in Seattle.

On the other hand, Wednesday and Thursday nights I had, for the first time in more than a month and a half, full night's sleep. There is no rational basis for this fact other than accumulation of the need, or maybe somebody hit me very hard on the head with a hammer when I wasn't looking. To be fair, people with "Dean" in their title have been doing that to me FIGURATIVELY on a regular basis, but it doesn't happen to me LITERALLY that often.

Also as I type, Martin is a-bed with a fever. I don't even know if "a-bed" is an actual expression, but it seems limeyish to me. Martin got back from New York on Wednesday, and I picked him up in Framingham at 5ish, after a pointful meeting -- where, because it was rush hour, we went across the way to eat at John Harvard's restaurant in Shopper's World. We shared buffalo wings, Martler got a cheddarburger, I got the Veronica Salmon with the garlic mash. You could probably tell which of us paid. Meanwhile, Martin has gone back to working on the dining room table, and I made SURE he raked yesterday in the last bastion of unraked leaves -- just in back of the garage. Yesterday I had nervous energy at 6:45 am, so I went out and did three barrels worth myself, and Martler did three barrels later in the day (we're now up to 99, as stated above). I had planned on finishing the job when I got back this morning -- there's maybe one or two barrels left to rake and then we're THROUGH, THROUGH, THROUGH! -- but they that make made that which was made into a joke. Am I making sense to you?

On Saturday after this update, Beff and I drove to Framingham for another episode of the Wing Bone Saloon saga, sharing a table with Ken and Hillary. Unfortunately, Hillary loves it at Harvard (she doesn't know yet that it's inferior to Brandeis), and also unfortunately, Ken discovered the consummate joy of people that invite you to meetings. Ken, welcome to the junior tenure track position hell we know as "the junior tenure track position hell." Nonetheless, there were many wings, fries and Bloody Maries to go around, and we stopped at a Dairy Queen after our meal. Ken used the rest room there, and they looked very put out when he asked.

Beff is in Memphis doing a clarinet master class as I type this. She has already started her residency at the Copland House, which was one day old when she had to drive to LaGuardia, circle the airport for 40 minutes to find the parking she prepaid online, couldn't locate, and ended up parking in the long term lot. Tonight she returns, to the rainy version of this storm. Yesterday after my Chair's meeting (these are always fun because the most mundane mere announcements become subjects of great controversy with this group), Beff called my office to look on the web and find out the contact number for the U Memphis music department. Turns out her plane was late, and she wanted them to know that. This was like the time that Stacy and Joe were driving to Minneapolis and called me to go online and find out where they would encounter IHOPs on their trip. But I digress, and horribly so.

So speaking of Beff, we had our last day of fun before she left for Copland House on Tuesday afternoon, where we conspired to locate places to get movie footage for her next video and instruments project, about making a concordance of the wind. With our digital cameras, she got a little footage of the books in the Harvard (the town, not the University) public library, she got some footage of the view near Fruitlands, and then she had an idea: we put an unabridged Shakespeare volume on one of the window seats, opened the window, and I aimed her hair dryer at the book, thus turning the pages slowly. She got some rather good (and retro, frankly) shots, including a few where Cammy jumped into the picture. Cammy may be afraid of leaf blowers, but a hair dryer doesn't bother him at all. At night, I suppose we had salmon burgers or something.

On Sunday, I went into Brandeis for the seventh consecutive day (that string is now at twelve) for the orchestra concert, and it was really good. The orchestra is far, far better than the version that played the Beethoven 4 a number of years ago, and the number of ringers was fairly low -- one of them was a trombonist I went to college with, who I was surprised to see. (guilt did NOT set in for me to volunteer my trombone skills for this group) Adam Marks -- one of two undergraduates at Brandeis in the late 90s whose name is a complete sentence (Gordon Withers was the other one) was the soloist for Rhapsody in Blue, and he was very, very good. Neal Hampton did a great job cuing the orchestra, and I discovered and orchestrational nicety that I hadn't been aware of previously -- the little accented clarinet trills in the first big phrase are doubled in a harmon-muted trumpet. (too bad that was Grofe's idea and not Gershwin's) In all, I was impressed by the orchestra of the department I chair. From on high, I approve. Adam Marks is doing grad school in New York, premiered one of my etudes (#42, Madam I'm Adam) and plays Fists of Fury like nobody's bidness.

I got the prototype of the ad for Lincoln Center Chamber Music Society thing that will be in the NY Times this weekend -- almost eleven of you, save it for me? -- and it's big, has a lot of information, and I am -- get this -- saluted. They must have heard that I wrote for a military band or something like that. It also has a list of all previous Stoeger Prize winners. Whoa, me and Kaija, down by the schoolyard. I dig it. I go there on Wednesday, meet with Soozie and Curt at Juilliard in the afternoon (I plan on taking a 2:00 train from Cortlandt Manor, or however you spell that -- near the Copland House), possibly meet a Brandeis funder, and then go back. Thursday, the day of the performance, who knows how I will spend the day? I did speak with and exchange e-mails with a very nice woman at the Brandeis House in NYC about meeting people important to the music department, but schedules haven't worked out yet. Plus, they can't exactly be invited to the Lincoln Center performance because it is SOLD OUT! This is why the weather here today is a cold day in hell -- a concert of Dusapin, Froom, and Rakowski managed to sell out. Or was a sellout. Or whatever.

Last news to report is that I actually went into Boston for a band concert last night. The NEC wind ensemble was doing a new band piece called GALAXY DANCE by Gusty Thomas, and she invited me to dinner and the concert. I paid for dinner (she likes her sake incredibly hot), and liked her piece a lot. It's different from the other pieces of hers I know, but that's not why I like it. It didn't sound like a band piece, and that's only part of why I liked it. Whoa, there were some great low register tunes in the beginning and end. She got to use three double basses, though, and that will limit future performances. She was modest, predicting that no one would ever perform the piece again. We sat behind a very old woman who loved the piece and couldn't stop talking about it.

And that's my week. Rather more than I thought I would be able to talk about.

Today's pictures begin with two of the Winter Wonderland here at about 2:30. There is more now. Followed is the sunset from a few nights ago. Then there is an extreme closeup of a scratch on my hand I got from Cammy when we were bringing him in and he was spooked by the sound of a leaf blower in the next yard and he bit. We finish with two cat pictures from the "aw..." category.

NOVEMBER 20. Breakfast this morning is Morningside Farms vegetarian breakfast patties with nonfat cheese slices. Dinner was sauteed chicken with onions and garlic a la Martler. Lunch had been snacks on the road. LARGE EXPENSES this week were train tickets to New York, $17.50 round trip off peak, $22 peak, and dinner after the Double Exposure concert, $80. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Hyperblue, recording from the premiere. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: in a grad seminar at Princeton, we were doing the obligatory exercise of analyzing each other's pieces. I did a little piece by Jody Rockmaker that turned out to be ABABA form, which I prounounced by twiddling my finger on my lips. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE PAST WEEK: 16.0 and 61.3. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 0. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the hiking area near the Copland House. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: What do we do with all the nitrogen in the air when we breathe it? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: SMAK pickles -- just opened the last jar. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK 0. DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL COFFEE: 1. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 1. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 3. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a piece of stained glass, yesterday's newspaper, a tree that fell in the forest, a cup of tepid coffee.

It is Saturday as I type this. Last week's winter wonderland crested at four inches, which I shoveled; now it is gone. Yesterday's weather was back into the 60s, which the weather guy on TV called "springlike." Martler finished raking the yard behind the garage, carrying the season total to 101 barrels, and that's where the total will stay. Last year's total was 99-1/2, so this would be more.

Even though I continue to hate my job, I continue to do it. As soon as I finish here, I'll be in my office working on a report. What fun! Then I will deal with the e-mail that accumulated while I was in New York.

Speaking of which. I went to the Copland House and stayed with Beff there for two nights while doing the Chamber Music Society stuff and a few things for Brandeis. The house is a nicely designed place with a great working space for a composer (good thing, since one bought it), and plenty of leafy, hilly yard. When I arrived, people with leaf blowers told me to park elsewhere, which I did. And I learned the lay of the land, so to speak. I had a rehearsal in the City at 4 with Soozie and Curt, so I learned about the 1:17 train from Cortlandt, arriving about an hour later, and the stunning views of the Hudson on the trip. I talked a bit with my old buddy from Orpheus, Valerie, who now works for the Chamber Music Society, before the rehearsal, and we relived old times a bit. She happens to be a fun one. Our rehearsal was next door, at Juilliard, and I heard my Violin Songs for the very first time. At first the first two songs sounded generic to me, and the last three pretty good. With rehearsal, things got better, which is good because they were already fantastic. Soozie has about a million vocal shadings, which she used to good effect -- I've hardly ever heard so much variety even within single songs.

I got the 6:03 train back from Grand Central, and Beff and I had a Freschetta frozen pizza (heated up) for dinner. Which we ate in Aaron Copland's house. At the dining room table donated by Lou Karchin. In Aaron Copland's house. For lunch that day, we had done a new Italian restaurant in Cortlandt near the A&P that had no sign on it -- nonetheless, the chicken I had was quite good, and we were the only customers for the entire time we were there. Meanwhile, after checking some e-mail (dial-up!) after dinner we retired to bed, to meet Thursday head-on by hiking a bit in the Washington Preserve or something like that. After which we got dressed up, had an Indian buffet lunch with Michael Boriskin, and took the 2:17 to New York. I had promised to meet a friend of Brandeis at Brandeis house, and I got pretty fretted and wired when I couldn't catch a cab outside of Grand Central for about 10 minutes. Finally we got a gypsy cab to Brandeis house, on time, where we were told we were going to the house of the friend of Brandeis -- another cab ride! -- but we got a cab in one second. Understandably, I was wired as I tried to describe what the music department does, and I was excused to go to my 5:00 sound check. Got another cab, oh joy.

The event itself was pretty spectacular. David Froom was there (we had only met once before, but exchange e-mails once in a while), and Curt played his solo violin sonata quite spectacularly. Soozie and Fred Sherry and Alex Fiterstein did a Dusapin piece. The concert ended with my violin songs, which in both performances came off marvelously -- in particular, the fourth song was just amazing. One person said that song was a "masterpiece." My head got really, really big. And for the first time, I liked all five songs. We sat at a table on the side with Judy Sherman and Hayes Biggs (one of these things is not like the other) and had a grand old time. Judy doesn't know I voted for her for the Classical Producer of the Year Grammy. Because, you see, I am a Grammy voter.

The Double Exposure series always has Bruce Adolphe, their composer in residence, giving patter and introducing the composers and asking them questions, and he and I turned into a fairly effective comedy team (he complimented my tie, I said "enjoy the show," he talked about "21st Century playback" in Finale, etc.). After the first show, there was the official Stoeger Prize presentation, and the exec director Norma and co-artistic director Wu Han presented me with a giant replica of the Stoeger check I had already cashed last January. My one-sentence speech mentioned "big bucks" (tee hee), and then there was the talking to people in between shows, while also posing for several official photographs. Then in the second show, Soozie actually had to answer some questions from the audience, since she had chosen the poems. Nonetheless, the second performance was even better.

So I drove back yesterday, did some chores, and let the cats outside while the Maids came to clean. Cammy stayed hidden for quite some time, not coming back in until dusk. Meanwhile, Sunny was in a neighbor's yard investigating a local cat, but I retrieved him from an ignominious fate. Whatever that would mean. So I grilled some eggplant on the grill outside, and it was good, brother. Martler improvised a sauteed chicken stir fry recipe that he says he got from Jeff Perry (who used the phrase, "use a lot more garlic than you think" or some variation thereof). It was good. And, eventually, farty.

There was not much to do on the weekend, since Martler was somewhat ill and there was snow everywhere. I didn't take any pictures. But I took plenty of them at the Copland House. This coming week will be Thanksgiving there with Hayes and Susan, and we got some of the food -- including the turkey (breast only, no legs, etc.) -- in advance. So I will be leaving on Wednesday morning for yet another stint there. Meanwhile, Martler goes back to England on Monday morning. It will be desolate here. But the leaves will still be all raked. And Generalissimo Franco will still be dead.

I had walked from Times Square to the Chamber Music Society on Wednesday, stopping several times along the way to see if anyone had the Time Out NY issue with Danny's review of the second etude disc; most newsstands no longer had that issue, but one did. So I got it. Read it on Reviews, Page 3. The "masterpiece" comment at Double Exposure gave me a big head. Danny's review gave me a "bulging brain." So the two of them kind of work together.

This week's pictures are all from the Copland house and nearby area. We have Thursday's sunrise, pictures of the house, a picture of the big picture window (see me in the reflection), a pillow that there is a picture of Copland posing with, a sign with a tree grown around it in the preserve, me on the phone in the preserve (talking to Brandeis House), and me on the porch holding my oversized check. The number of "will it fit through the ATM?" comments I got was legion.

NOVEMBER 26. Lunch this afternoon was Morningside Farms meatless breakfast sausages with Shaws nonfat cheese slices. Breakfast was actual coffee, but not much of (I left some of it, after it had been processed by my body, in a rest area between Waterbury, CT and Hartford). Dinner was turkey white meat, summer squash that had been converted (by me) into an I Can't Believe It's Not Butter delivery system, garlic mash potatoes, Stove Top stuffing, Franco American canned turkey gravy, beer, wine, apple pie, and vanilla ice cream. LARGE EXPENSES this week were none. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Hyperblue, recording from the premiere (same as last week). POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: only once in my entire time in elementary school or high school did I have to stay after school for bad behaviour; after a film strip in fifth grade, for some reason I felt it was hilarious to throw my pencil repeatedly on the desk of the girl in front of me. I stayed after school and filled a page with "I will be a good boy in school." I think it worked. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE PAST WEEK: 26.1 and 64.8. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 1. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK more of the hiking area near the Copland House and a view to the Hudson through a clearing made for gas lines going through and over the mountains. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Does time pass in one continuous stream (analog), or an infinite number of infinitessimals (digital)? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: SMAK pickles -- the last ones I had are finito -- olives stuffed with exotic things, and of course, turkey. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK 0. DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL COFFEE: 0. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 1. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 1. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a plastic deli sandwich holder, the lead of a pencil, the pile of hair on the floor of the barber at the end of the day, a drop of hot oil.

It was a long weekend with plenty of stuff to do -- on both Saturday and Sunday mornings I went in to Brandeis to work on some documents and to cajole those responsible for parts of one document to do their writing. On Saturday, Alison Carver came down to see Martler and I saw them before they went out to the Horseshoe Pub in Hudson. They then went on to the Orchard House in Concord, where Louisa May Alcott had grown up, and took the tour. At night, we went to the Neighborhood Pizzeria for the first time since it moved onto Main Street across from The Barber Who Talks Too Much So I Don't Go There Any More. We got buffalo wings and salad, and the wings were so peppery hot (meaning: really great) that Martler couldn't finish his.

And then on Sunday, Martler promised to take me out for seafood at the Quarterdeck Restaurant, so we walked there, and it was close. So instead we went to the Blue Tiger Grill in Maynard, but I may have gotten the name of that wrong -- Beff always corrects me when I bring it up. It used to be called Amory's, which was way easier to remember. I got the grilled salmon, and Martler got the half-rack of ribs and steak tips special. I don't remember what we talked about, except that there was too much food on Martler's plate to eat. There was plenty of football to watch, and we watched Miami not do too well.

Monday and Tuesday were crammed with teaching, as I had moved all the Wednesday teaching to earlier in the week. On Monday morning, Martler and I left in the car at 5:55 am to get him to the airport, and he disembarked from the Corolla in front of Terminal B, Logan, at 6:40; I then arrived at Brandeis at about 7:05. Martler is probably back in limeyville now, unless he was making something up. After all, I left him off at a domestic terminal, not the internation one (which would be E). Then at 9 on Monday I saw my Wednesday at noon student (had nothing new), sat in on Jeff Roberts's PhD oral exam (he passed), and drove to NEC to see my two students there (they both had nothing new). On Tuesday, I had my two Tuesday students, followed by my Wednesday at 9 student (forgot to show up) and my Wednesday at 11 student (DID have music!), peeked in on Gil and commented on his G minor invention (which he had just written on his own because it interested him), and took to 2:06 train into North Station.

From North Station, I took the Orange Line to Forest Hills and back. In between those trips, I met with Gil Rose at and near the BMOP offices -- in the same building as a Masonic Hall converted into a recording studio -- and we came up with a schedule and a strategy for the Davy orchestral CD. Piece for BMOP on the way. "Winged Contraption" for the "has some relationship to NEC" concert a year from January. Now I just have to find the right timing to resign as Chair. Fat chance, huh?

It took a mere three hours to drive to the Copland House on Wednesday, and I got there while Beff was out shopping and the weekly maid service was in the house. And boy did I have to go to the bathroom. So the maid let me in, and I used the rest room, and encountered Beff returning with Thanksgiving food right afterwards. "Been here long?" she said. What a pickup line, I thought. It was quite mild outside on Wednesday; nonetheless, we drove south to whatever is just south of Cortlandt to use a post office and eat Japanese -- a Japanese restaurant was listed on the Copland House literature -- but the restaurant was gone. So we got some nice stuff at a gourmet store, and then drove into town for a second-rate Chinese buffet. When we got back, Beff did some video work and I read the paper. Then Hayes and Susan arrived around 3, and we came on home and spread ourselves out.

At about 3:45, Hayes served us all beers. I figured if we started with beer this early we would run out quickly, so Susan and I drove down to a beer store and got some very good beer -- including a Blue Something winter ale that was very good. We also got Spanish Peaks ale, which is now made in Saratoga Springs -- so our bragging about eating in the Spanish Peaks brewery in Montana was deflated by the new circumstances. But they did have big smoking chairs for cigar smokers. That will always be true. Then we bopped over to the A&P in Cortlandt for Cool Whip and vanilla ice cream for the pies that Susan had brought. For dinner, I whipped up a bunch of soup from mixes purchased at the Porter Exchange in Cambridge -- all of them Thai hot and sour soups -- and salad. Cool. After dinner, we watched "Dead Again," much of it to the derision and scorn of all of us.

On Thanksgiving Day (yesterday), Beff and I exceeded the waking up time of Hayes and Susan by about two hours, so we were already wired with caffeine as they emerged. Since it was quite mild out and there were peeks of sun, we went to the hiking area nearby and took a rather long hike -- photographic evidence below. On the road in the preserve were many piles of discarded things, including a big pile of mattresses and a whole office. Hmmph. At about 1 I put the incomplete turkey breast we had bought into the oven, basted it every fifteen minutes, and then worked on all the other accoutrements. Dinner was at about 4:15, and seemed to be pretty good, even if I did put too much I Can't Believe It's Not Butter in the squash. We were filled to the brim! Then we watched the movie of The Ice Storm to fill the time until The Apprentice (a show for which I don't care at all), and it was fun to see a movie with Tuesday Addams, the chick from Pieces of April, the head elf from The Santa Clause, Spiderman AND Frodo. Alas, Frodo is the one who dies in this movie. I thought it was a pretty good movie, though I know the author has reservations both about it and about the original novel. Sigourney Weaver played against type the way Mary Tyler Moore did in Ordinary People. And the child actor to whom Christina Ricci said "I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours" (the part I'd seen surfing through cable about eight times) seemed familiar. One of these days I'll figure out where I saw him before.

I went to bed before The Apprentice came on -- had to get home to feed the cats. I left this morning at 7:30, was in Hartford by the time Hayes and Susan woke up, arrived at home at 10:30, took the garbage to the street (probably not soon enough -- there were NO other garbage cans out nearby), changed the cat litter, mailed the bills to Beff, got more cat litter and cat food at Shaws, and came back to type this stuff out. I had left a big bowl of dry food for the cats in addition to their regular dry food, and it was ALL GONE when I got back. These cats can eat. They can poop, too.

So the next big thing coming up not related to the job I hate, hate, HATE is Midwest Conference in about two and a half weeks. Whoa, five days in Chicago with nary a Chair thing to do. Woo hoo. Meanwhile, I have to try and find some old scores because of inquiries made at Peters. Don't hate me for being beautiful.

Today's pics from the Copland House: the dining room, Beff at work, the Hirshfeld portrait, outdoors, the hiking picture, the town viewed through the clearing, and pans of the studio and dining room.

DECEMBER 4.. Breakfast this morning is Trader Joe's French Roast decaf coffee, orange juice, and eventually Morningside Farms meatless sausage patties with nonfat cheese. Dinner was a Healthy Choice microwave meal of a lasagna and chicken patty or something like that, and salad. Lunch had been a big, big salad with Campari tomatoes and homemade salad dressing. LARGE EXPENSES this week were $89 for various sundries at BJ's, and I started to fill my shopping cart at amazon. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The MIDI of "Scatter", one of the Three Encores I just entered into Finale. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I used to be able to do a standing broad jump pretty far -- 8' 5-1/2" when I was in eighth grade, which they told me was the record. In ninth grade I could only do 6' 9" because of the slippery sneakers I had and my parents didn't buy me new ones too often. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE PAST WEEK: 23.2 and 56.5. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 13(!). DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK a place in the Prudential Center that sells CryBaby Tears (at outrageous prices). THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Are "atonal" and "amoral" parallel concepts? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: A few CryBaby Tears, deli pickles, stuffed olives. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK 1. DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL COFFEE: 8. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 4. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 2. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a coffee bean, a pair of tweezers, a pile of dog doo, a map showing the addresses of the stars.

So since returning from the Copland House, life has been altogether boring. I went into Brandeis on Sunday mornings to do chairman stuff that was due December 1, and I finally finished the big document constituting our response to our Dean's proposal to phase out the graduate program in composition. While I'm on Brandeis stuff, I'll mention that I did a lot of it. And I led a faculty meeting on Thursday, which was mercifully short. I even went in yesterday morning for the simple purpose of delivering a two-days-late document to the registrar.

I had planned on going in on Saturday, but Eric Chafe and his wife came over for lunch instead. We went to the Blue Tiger -- where I had been with Martler a week earlier -- and had lunchy things and beers. I think I got the Buffalo chicken wrap. We talked (or more precisely he talked) about his forthcoming LULU book, and we had much fun talking about days of Brandeis past. Of course I couldn't work after the lunch and beer, so I solved world hunger instead, and then lost the spreadsheet.

The only fun Brandeis thing was talking about my "Dream Symphony" for the Music Since 1900 class taught by Eric Chafe. So I did. And one student said what I already know -- all three movements end slow.

Meanwhile, the students I taught at NEC were fun-having. Mary had nothing new (she made, and ate, pies instead of writing), so we took a brisk walk down Gainsborough Street, Hemenway Street, and Boylston Street and marched through the Pru, landing in a candy store that had CryBaby Tears by the box for $1.50. Highway robbery, but I got eight boxes anyway, in order to spend enough to use a credit card. Then we marched back along the Christian Science headquarters and finished the lesson on a sugar high. Nathan, meanwhile, alas had new music so we couldn't go on a march. And later in the week a check arrived from NEC, which happens every month, and every time I forget that it's coming. Fulfillment.

The first thing Beff said yesterday when she called was "you haven't updated your website." So what I am doing right now (updating my website) will serve as the antidote to that problem. Believe it or not, I have blocked off the weekend for composing -- we'll see how far THAT gets.

So during the cheap time last weekend I spoke with Stacy and Joe -- according to the phone, it was an hour and 17 minute conversation. Stacy sent me a sex poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay that I am considering using in my sex poems collection for Soozie. (for the uninitiated, Soozie asked for movements to be added to "The Gardener," which is a sex poem set for voice and five instruments) I also e-mailed Rick Moody about it, and he said he's game to write one. I will soon be asking others for advice. And if you, dear reader, know a good singable sex poem that contrasts with what I already have, let me know.

The Chamber Music Society sent the CD of both performances of the Violin Songs, and they are spantacular. Soozie really makes me look good. And Curt already looks good ("Curt IS jazz!"). And I haven't yet decided which performance is better. Though the audience laughter in the second song is more evident in the first performance.

Meanwhile, Peters had gotten some inquiries about various pieces that were obviously listed on this site, and they revealed that they were unable to find masters of Three Encores. Ironically so, since Judy and Jim just recorded them, and last night they even did one of the encores on their program in Princeton. They said they had pristine scores to offer, but they had images of the coil binding on them, as well as a few of their own markings. I sent that to Peters, but decided, on my own, to enter them into Finale. This took up Thursday night and most of yesterday, and I can announce -- finished! Purty copies of Vocal Ease, Scatter, and Vocal Angst now available both on paper and as PDFs. So that has been eating up my time, especially figuring out how to do all that damn over-the-barline beaming I must have thought was really cool in Scatter.

Beside all that, it rained really hard here on Sunday and Wednesday. And I did two loads of laundry yesterday, including the blanket that Martler slept with. Today I must send the Encores to the publisher. Oh yes, and I got a big thing of dry cat food, two big things of canned cat food, some campari tomatoes, and various other sundries at BJ's on Tuesday on my way back from work. Yesterday I got various foodstuffs at VICTORY supermarket in Waltham at 10 in the morning after delivering my document -- and saw a student there. Who was dumbfounded that I was shopping there "on my way home." Which I was.

By the way, I think I may have managed a good night's sleep last night. Though I was awake at 1, I must have slept later. And for the first time in months, I had dreams that I could remember -- which means I woke up during them. And as I learned in my big, big research paper on SLEEP that I did in 7th grade, dreams happen during the deepest part of sleep. There were even layers in the later dream -- in which I was sitting on stage in a performance of some sort of comedy of manners, and nodded off, in the dream, waking up, in the dream, to a scene where those assembled had to exit. There was also something about getting a moving truck up a curvy driveway, but that seems to be unrelated, somehow. Maybe that was the first dream.

Beff asked for cat pictures -- "are they getting big?" she always asks. I had taken no new shots this week, so I followed them around the house and tried to get good shots. Below is the evidence. I also had a fire because a cat litter bag was emptied and various other stuff had to be burned.

DECEMBER 10. Breakfast this morning was big. I had a Better 'n' Eggs omelette with nonfat cheese, a bagel with nonfat cream cheese, and decaf Trader Joe's French Roast coffee. I still feel fat. Last night's dinner was a Healthy Choice Fire Roasted Chicken microwave meal (finally emptying out the freezer). Lunch was Udon noodles. As much fun to say as it is to eat! LARGE EXPENSES this week were more things put into my cart at amazon (like Danny Felsenfeld's new book). I went to Staples twice with a $20 off when you spend $100 card and got nothing both times. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Trillium" from Violin Songs because I listened to it in the car this morning, and Soozie sings it so gorgioso. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I took the Chicago song "Harry Truman" off the radio my senior year in high school and got together a band to play it in the Spring Frolics using the original instrumentation -- even had two clarinets and a Chicago-like brass section (including me on trombone). The fast chromatic licks for the clarinets were entirely too formidable for them, but I remember watching fork fingering going wild. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 4. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Sunset's heart murmur is no better, no worse. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Why is "hair" singular and "pants" plural? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Half-sour pickles from Victory Supermarket, a few CryBaby Tears. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK none. DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL COFFEE: 15. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 11. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 2. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE an all-nighter, refrigeration, growth, intransigence (I felt like doing abstract nouns today).

I have returned from two early morning trips before typing this (10:19 am, but that could change). I went in very early to craft a memo to the Dean appointing a first year theory teacher for the spring and put it in campus mail; I then returned, breakfasted (if it can be thought of as a verb) and drove to Trader Joe's/Staples to get wood and vitamins. We're nearly out, even though I know Beff has a bunch with her at the Copland House. As the clock turns over onto 10:21, I mention that it was cool and drizzly this morning, followed by a steady rain, and, right now, just cloudy and a little breezy. It's a crapfest of a weather day, which suits me fine.

Much, much got done this week, including reasons to keep taking my blood pressure pills (I take Lisinopril and hydrochlorothiazide). Last night was a student forum with the Dean and Provost wherin students got to ask questions about the Dean's hatchet man proposals, and much emotion was shown, not to mention, lots of poorly formed questions. But there were certainly more questions (about thirty) than there were answers (approximately zero, but there may have been twice that). I walked up to the Forum with Eric Chafe and back down with him, all the while finding out new funny things about old, dead people. (I already know they smell and can't hold down food) Meanwhile, on Monday I put the finishing touches on the department's response to the Dean's proposals, made copies, and sent them out to the relevant faculty and administration. On Wednesday I met with the Chair of the committee that was formed to evaluate the proposals to explicate the composition program. And when I saw what I had done, I .. wait, that's something else.

As I had predicted, I blocked out the weekend for composing, and that's just what I did. I tried to start one piece, but discarded the sketches, then started a sex poem setting -- a Millay sonnet that Stacy had sent me. By the end of Sunday (during which I watched parts of the laugher of a Patriots game on TV) I had done 55 bars of the setting, making it about halfway through the text of the poem. I have also worked on the piece in the evenings this week and during yesterday morning, and am close to finishing it. It will be finished today, clocking in at about four minutes. So, so far, the sex poem set is nine minutes. Two or three more will be added to it.

In the meantime, Soozie sent me some more sex poems to consider, including one by Ida Thoenkkitupp. There is one poem I liked because it looks like a comedy thing, and I liked Ida's poem, too -- the moment I read it I heard its accompaniment. Soozie and I had three long phone conversations, the third of which was to call and acknowledge that she was Ida. As in, she wrote the poem, and Ida is the pen name. So we fantasized about an elaborate bio of a reclusive poet, with umlauts on the u's and slashes through the o's. But I spoiled the secret there, didn't I?

I also put some materials together and sent them to Rick Moody, who is writing a sex poem for the set (we are both very excited, so to speak, about it). The package has some scores and Soozie singing stuff of mine, so he'd know the voice he was writing for. He previewed it by saying it wasn't "a theoretical treatise on Wittgenstein." All the better, my pretty, all the better.

I got an e-mail from Dyna Mike of the Marines with some typos in "Sibling Revelry," soon to get its premiere under his baton, so I have the idea that the Marines have probably rehearsed it. This Wednesday, in fact. He promised it would be "what was on the page" by the performance, but I know he's hoping for more -- like "what's all the rage" and "what tastes like sage" and "what's in the cage", too. Mmmm, doughnuts. So I go to Chicago on Tuesday, Beff goes to Chicago on Wednesday, and we both come back on Sunday -- meaning no regular update of this page, or at least a very late one. AAA limo has been secured to take me to the airport at 9, for those of you playing along at home. We are staying at the Hilton Towers in Chicago, will see plenty of Chip (Beff's colleague), and spend a day or two with the Stacies. Chairmanship and the Dean have weighed heavily enough that the trip doesn't make it into my consciousness yet -- an awkward way of explaining that I been bizzy.

Rebecca writes that this readership is now up to almost twelve. But since number almost-twelve is my weekly student and he never brings anything up, I need further proof before changing the counter on page one. Rebecca also writes that she has contacted all the music alumni in the Brandeis database, and therefore has a feeling of accomplishment.

"Sibling Revelry" will be recorded and video'ed for web streaming on the Midwest Clinic web page. Ask for it by name. Pretty soon my web presence will expand so much I will exude hugeness. And you all know how hard it is to exude. (I used to have an ude, but it broke, so it's an exude. Rim shot)

Last Thursday night and all day Friday were spent entering the Three Encores for voice and piano into Finale, and I'm pleased to report that they are finished and proofread and ready to go. The midi of "Scatter" is hilarious, since it doesn't swing. And I realized that Scatter, from 1991, which is a quasi-atonal scat piece with a bitchin hard piano part, was probably my first "jazzy" piece. You mean I've got this jazzy reputation and I've only been doing it only 13 years? Get on out!

Oh yeah. And I talked to some Brandeis alums on the weekend who were incensed about the plan, etc.

And yesterday I had to bring Sunset into the vet for his twice-yearly electrocardiogram ($205). I had to leave him there at 7:45, he meowed loudly in the car once, and I picked him up at 1:45. He also meowed loudly once in the car on the way back. $220 later (also $15 for "hospitalization"), we found that he is no better, no worse, still has a teeny hole, no fluid discharge. Recommendation: bring him to Tufts for an operation or keep taking these pictures every six months. Financially, the equivalent of paying all at once or doing the installment plan. We chose the installment plan.

I took no pictures this week, and it's too dreary a day for new ones, so I raided the archive. Bly and Drip, when they were alive; Beff a-makin' a face in Maine in 2003 wearing her Judy Sherman t-shirt; Dyna Mike last July soon after becoming a Lieutenant Colonel; and those pesky little dogs between here and downtown a-barkin' away again.

DECEMBER 22. Breakfast this morning was an egg and cheese bagel at the bagel place near Acton Toyota on Great Road (Route 2A). Dinner was chicken with mushrooms and asparagus with leftover Thanksgiving potatoes, and salad. Lunch was tomato sandwiches. Today's lunch was California rolls from Donelan's, on Great Road in Acton. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST 12 DAYS 2.7 and 45.7. LARGE EXPENSES this last 12 days include limo to the airport, $99; taxi to the Hilton from O'Hare, $45; various items from amazon, I forget how much; meals in Chicago, ranging from $15 for breakfast to $96 for dinner; Camry maintenance, $54; parking at the airport, $72. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Zipper Tango" from "Sibling Revelry" as performed by the Marines last week. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: The art teachers at the Elementary School when I was in 7th grade were Mr. Walentosky and Ms. Rinderknecht. They eventually married. I sure hope she didn't hyphenate her name. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 1. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK The Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago, in the dead of winter. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: why is "Band in Boston" always the first pun on "band" that everyone thinks of? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Pepperoncinis, olives, Good Seasonings salad dressings. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK none, but they have batted a few videocassettes around and come close to destroying some of their own toys. DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL COFFEE: 0. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 1. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: unknown, but probably 2 or 3 in 12 days. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE ability, triumph, inertia, confidence. I continue to dig those abstract nouns.

I have returned from five days in Chicago, four of them spent with Beff, and some of it at taxpayer expense (the Marines paid for our hotel). A lot of stuff happened, so I will try to put it all in order. First, two weekends ago I finished the Millay sex song and started on Ida Thoenkkittupp's. That one I finished today, and it is very pretty. Last Monday I had to go to a Chairs' meeting, and it was every bit as eventful and interesting as advertised (the obnoxious quote that comes to mind was when Judy Bettina had to sing an awful, awful Dick Swift piece for voice and harp many years ago, I said to Jim, "all dressed up and nothing to sing"). Later in the day I had to do e-mail, etc., and get ready for Midwest. So I did.

On Tuesday I took AAA Limo to the airport and got my flight on United, which was smooth and on time. A taxi got me to the Hilton Hotel, where I encountered the officer types from the Marines. They were going to play my piece SIBLING REVELRY the next day, and they were waiting for a military plane to arrive with most of the band. A rehearsal was scheduled that night for 10:30 -- hey, in the military you can make people do stuff at just about any time of day. I checked in, and the front desk had had no record of me being on the taxpayer tab, so Captain Barclay eventually fixed it (thus changing my mailing address on the hotel bill to Washington, DC). So I got into my room and arranged to meet Dyna Mike and Jason (no cool secret nickname yet) for dinner. Meanwhile, they found out that the plane they'd arranged to take to Chicago hadn't shown up.

Tuesday night the three of us (see above) walked to the Berghoff, a German restaurant with nice beer, for dinner. They teetotalled, because a rehearsal was tentative -- at this point, very tentative -- for that evening. No-nickname and I got chicken schnitzel, which turned out to be a giant chicken parm without the cheese, and Dyna Mike got a sausage thing. I got an amber beer on draft. Shortly, Dyna Mike's cell phone rang, he listened for 30 seconds without saying a word, and flagged down the waiter -- "a pitcher of the amber, please". The plane, which had been coopted by admirals and the like (which is why it didn't show up) was ready to take the band to Chicago. Except for computer malfunction. No rehearsal. Beer flowed freely both at the restaurant and, later, back at the hotel, where we sat at a bar and had more, and observed how royally Marine Band types get treated in the band world.

Okay, the band world. I was not quite as prepared as I should have been for the Midwest Clinic, which is a giant conference of, they told me, about 15,000 band directors from all over the country, of all levels. Who becomes band directors? Band geeks. Like I was. There were 15,000 band geeks in or around middle age everywhere the eye could see. There were lots of those moustaches that used to cover up acne but now just look dweeby. I had to look long and hard to find a suit that cost more than $60 (mine was $100 at an outlet in Worcester in 1998, but then again, I only wore mine once). And various military types were there from all the services. Beff and I had name tags and ribbons that said "PARTICIPANT" and the name tags said "Guest of US Marine Band" -- we got treated like royalty. We even got asked when we'd be touring the west coast. Downstairs in the hotel there were four large rooms filled with exhibitors selling everything from marching band choreography software to fund raising items (fresh fruits, wreaths, etc.) to touring facilitators to music distributors to instrument makers to college music programs to service bands. And more! We took plenty of trips through the exhibits, especially since Shattinger Music (St. Louis) was there with three scores of SIBLING REVELRY, a full set of parts for same, and two scores of TEN OF A KIND for sale. I returned often enough to know that all the Siblings sold, and one of the Tens sold. I calculate my royalties at a little less than thirty bucks for that.

Beff was getting in Wednesday afternoon, and it was possible that she would make the first of the two Marine Band concerts, but it was also likely that she would not (she did not). The Band finally got a plane to get them to Chicago at noon, and all I got to hear of my piece was various brief portions in a sound check at 5:30 (the trombones were too loud in Zipper Tango -- otherwise, nothing for me to say). Meanwhile, I was wearing those slip-on blue winter boots that are a bit loose, and I slipped and fell on some stairs going to the exhibits and twisted my ankle fairly seriously on Wednesday morning. I am still limping. In any case -- I went to both Marine Band concerts, which were held in the International Ballroom. The loudest sounds there were the air system, followed by whatever ensembles played there. There were 2500 to 3000 chairs set up, and the Marines played to Standing Room for both concerts -- which means this was the largest audience I've ever had for a piece, surpassing Persistent Memory at Carnegie and Ten of a Kind at the KKL in Lucerne. For both shows, I had to make opening remarks about my piece, and I did my best to charm and not appear too geeky (I partially failed). In the first show, the downbeat happened before I got to my seat. And hey, at the first show I met Donald Hunsberger (yes, a legend in the band world) who knew everything about Ten of a Kind and others, and signed a bunch of programs (people discovered I had scores of the piece being premiered so, even being band geeks, they put two and three together). The band, by the way, was fantastic.

Beff made it to the 9:00 show, and we sat with Chip, her colleague, and Dean, a local band director in Maine. In my opening remarks I took a page out of Carson's book and complimented the audience for being better than the previous one. And after the show, I thanked the musicians, and the four of us did dinner in the hotel (pizza and beer) for too much money. For Thursday, Chip wanted me to meet all these people, so I did, and for the life of me I don't remember the names of any of them. Except maybe Dyna Mike's conducting teacher, Tony Maiello. The most amusing bit may have been meeting Jack Stamp on the floor (I know the name from browsing band sites). You could see him read our nametags, go through a Terminator-like process of determining we weren't worth his while, and quickly extricating himself from the conversation. Chip even remarked, "did you see how quickly he determined we weren't worth his time?" I briefly brushed by Paul Whear, who was the composer of the first atonal music I ever played in band (Stonehenge Symphony, All New England 1974). Beff got some free reeds to try and bought some clarinet CDs. I got a combo metronome-tuner for the fun of it, and a free copy of the Vaughn Williams 6th -- and lots of free stuff from the Marine Band booth. Oh yeah, and I ordered a CD and DVD of the Marine Band performance. I already have a CD-R of the first concert, but it staticky. Those bastids!

Meanwhile, Beff went to the Art Institute while I stayed in the room because walking was too uncomfortable. On Thursday we saw the Marines do the Gran Partita, which is a really, really big blow, and they just about made it through. The oboist, which I had not seen before, was really, really good, and I'm glad she's in my piece. And finally by Saturday morning we were ready to get out of there. Luckily Stacy and Joe had a car, and a house to stay at. So they picked us up, we did dim sum and shopping in Chinatown, walked around Millenium Park, went to a piano recital of Nothing But Dead Composers, did Japanese in Evanston, watched half of Galaxy Quest, and went to bed. Then on Sunday it was the plane for us, finding where Beff had parked the Camry in the economy lot, and driving home in advance of a little snowstorm that eventually dropped 2 or 3 inches here. And then it got cold.

So I've listened to my CD quite a few times, and finished the third Sex Song. Rick Moody revised his poem by adding a chorus, and we are cooking with gas. Monday I went into Brandeis to do various Brandeis stuff. It took rather a long time to catch up to the e-mails that had accrued -- not to mention, the committee evaluating the Dean's strategic proposal asked if music might have a response by the end of the week -- LAST week. Which, luckily, Eric Chasalow had pretty much done.

And now I'm in Davy mode, if only for a short time. My hope is to start the Rick Moody poem shortly (maybe tomorrow) and have it finished by the first week of January, at which time I'll decide if I want to write another one for the set.

So there.

Today's pictures are all from Chicago, including: skyline from Grant Park, skyline from Michigan Ave, Beff at Carson's Ribs, a historic building near the Zoo, the Shattinger booth at Midwest, some stairs in the Hilton, bookend lions at the zoo, and giraffes.

DECEMBER 31. Breakfast this morning was toasted Italian bread with lowfat peanut butter on it, and Morningside Farms meatless sausage links, with fresh squeezed grapefruit juice from Trader Joe's, and coffee sent us from Raj. Lunch today was little pizzas purchased at Trader Joe's. Last night's dinner was grilled chicken sandwiches, chicken having been marinated in Emeril's something, and salad with Annie Chun's Cilantro and Sesame dressing. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST 9 DAYS 7.2 and 59.0. LARGE EXPENSES this last 9 days include hotel in Burlington, $89 for two nights, and Calvados in New Hampshire, $32. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Kiss and Tell," a somewhat pointless '80s tune by who knows whom. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: when I was in sixth grade, I actually got to go to, and play in, the band for the (high school) District Music Festival. I played second trombone, and there exists a picture somewhere (probably at Jane's house) of me in this band, about a foot shorter than everyone else. I kept my second trombone parts, got a reel-to-reel recording of the concert, and continued to relive the festival by playing the tape and playing along on the trombone. I think after a while my parents asked me to do that only when they were not at home. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 0! DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK You can, and should, use a Borders gift card on . THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: why can't I grow a real beard? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: deli olives, deli pickles, lowfat peanut butter, sugar-free popsicles, leftover turkey (which now goes mostly to the cats). NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK lots of leftover turkey -- not destroyed so much as inhaled. DAYS SINCE MY LAST REAL COFFEE: 0. DAYS SINCE MY LAST BEER: 1. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: probably 9 of 12 days. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE chutzpah, individuality, misappropriation, transparency. I continue to dig those abstract nouns.

The Midwest clinic is now fading into dim memory, and I have been composing feverishly (it's an expression) since the last update. Three days of the last nine were spent with the holiday traveling, as follows. First, on Friday morning I picked up Big Mike at his condo at 6:30 am. He had totalled his car on the way to a dental surgery (if it ain't one thing, it's anudda) on the day of the sloppy snowstorm, and he needed a ride to Alewife so he could catch a train to a ferry for his own holiday travel. I was back at home by 7:40, at which time I did my own packing for holiday traveling. We were to pick up Beff's brother Bob at 9:30 at South Acton on our way to Burlington, Vermont, for Christmas. Bob called at 8:50 to say he was running late, so we got him at 10:30 instead, and were on our way. For those playing along at home, that involved turning left outside the train station, taking an immediate right, getting onto 27 north near the Ace Hardware, taking it to 2 West just past the Quill and Pen, hanging onto 495 North to 93 North, taking that into New Hampshire, paying a 75 cent toll, and getting 89 North into Vermont. Soon after arriving in our home state, we went into White River Junction, looked for a nice restaurant Bob know about that happened to be closed for the holidays, and did a seventeenth rate Chinese buffet instead. The hot and sour soup had no taste, and notable available items in the buffet included pepperoni pizza slices (I had one), onion rings (I had two), and crinkle cut fried potatoes (I had three). I didn't have any of the green jell-o. We then got back on Route 5 South, immediately to 91 south for about 100 feet, to 89 North all the way into Burlington, at which point we took the exit for US Route 2 East (Williston Road), turned left, and made it to the Overlake condos, where Beff's dad lives. I'm not sure about that name. It had rained furiously the day before (also in Maynard, where it hit 59 -- see above), and then quick-cooled to the teens by the time we got there. The rain runoff had not had time to run off, so there was plenty of thin sheets of glare ice in the condo's driveway area. Every time we thought we wouldn't slip, we did.

After the obligatory catching up with relatives (Ann, Dad, Matt), there was the ritual playing of hokey Christmas music recordings and guessing the artists (I was the only one to get Eartha Kitt), and getting albums onto Ann's computer to throw onto to her new MP3 player (which has enough built-in memory for about 2 hours of music -- we scoffed at that puniness -- and can read from SD memory cards as well), not to mention, distributing gifts under the Christmas tree. As usual, football was on TV, and we pretended to be interested. We also checked in at the Clarion Hotel on Williston Road, where we got the friends and family discount -- Ann works for a Clarion -- and at night we ate at the Windjammer, right across the road from the Clarion, and where Ann apparently worked for about eight years. The food there was, mostly, large. I had the chicken teriyaki, and against my best interests, ate all of it.

For those of you almost eleven (almost twelve?) thinking about staying at the Burlington Clarion in the future, be advised that the bed was very uncomfortable, and there were not enough pillows (why THREE for two people? -- I see a future cosmic question). Nonetheless, I slept through the night both nights, awakening both days with back pains and leg cramps. Oh yeah, and then on Christmas we went to the condo, opened presents (I got such useful things as a mini-sewing kit (which I traded with Beff for a set of micro-pliers), a shirt that reads "Life is too short to cook for you people", and gift cards at Barnes and Noble and Borders), and started cooking. Basketball was on and I pretended to be interested. And I had small portions at dinner -- I was full from the beer that was made available to us. And Jim was there for the day, too, leaving after dinner to drive back.

On the day after Christmas, the Weather Channel in our hotel let us know that a Winter Storm Warning had been posted for the Boston area, and our part of the state was painted white in the "expected precipitation" forecast for the day. This was disconcerting, given that when we left on Friday the forecast was for partly cloudy with a chance of a flurry on Sunday. Oh, those they that make! So we had been assigned to pick up bagels for the morning, and we rushed through breakfast, at which time I assigned the driving to Beff "when the snow starts to pick up." Actually, there were snow squalls in both sets of mountains we drove through, and the driving was just fine -- just one white-out -- and Bob kept saying "it'll let up once we get over the mountains." Thus reminding me of me. And he was right. But once we got close to Massachusetts, the snow picked up, the traffic slowed on 93 just before the 495 intersection, and in Maynard, the car slid twice in advance of stoplights -- gfornafratz anti-lock brakes! It took a long time to unpack, but it kept snowing, and by Monday morning there were eight inches of snow on the ground. I was going to shovel, but the snow felt so heavy on the back sidewalk that I got out the trusty snowblower, and blew much snow into the backyard and a healthy portion of it directly into my face -- gfornafratz wind! One of these days I have to figure out how to change the oil on the snowblower.

Once all the weather-related stuff was taken care of, it was back to the Sex Songs for me. I finished Ida Thoenkkittupp and bore down on the Rick Moody poem "How to Read." It's in a very fast tempo with some rock and roll gestures, and an actual chorus, and the number of bars I wrote per day is as follows: Monday, 35; Tuesday, 65; Wednesday, 35, Thursday, 50; today, so far, 16, which means I am at bar 201, five minutes into the piece, and about halfway through the poem. Big trouble in little China. It's a fun piece to write, but there is so much really, really impressive stuff in it that it's getting hard to top myself. I took a page out of Joss Whedon's book (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, musical episode) and stressed "come" in the line "the book was complete", and bowed to Soozie's request for a high C on the word "consummate." I also wrote an ossia going only as high as A (that was the first thing I did this morning) for "consummate". Beff was impressed, by the way, that I set the word "unexpurgated," which is what follows COMplete. So work is ongoing. And there is a chorus that happens three times, during which the vocal part is actually diatonic. Well, it only uses three notes, but you get the idea. And since I'm me there is occasional fragmentation and layering of the 3-note motive of the chorus. But now this is just too much information.

I discovered on Monday that the Midwest Clinic web page now has streaming video of the greatest hits from the performances there, including the only Marine Band selection, yours truly's own "Sibling Revelry." Like I said, the performance is great, and the streaming video shows just how easy a time the band had of it, despite its Grade 6 designation. Click on the "Sibling Revelry" link at the top of this page, and click on the name of the piece -- you need Real Player to see and hear it, and it can be downloaded for free. Naturally, I e-mailed a bunch of people about the streaming video. The vast majority of responses has been no response, though I did get one "Windows XP doesn't know what to do with a .ram file" from someone without Real Player (one of the almost eleven).

On tax day, I will be part of a large celebration of creativity at U Mass Dartmouth. Damned if I know right now what I'm supposed to do (and damned if I don't), but it's yet another thing going on in April. Geoff Burleson wrote from New Mexico that Zeccatella is among the etudes he's doing in Pittsburgh on February 2, which makes it a premiere; which is a shame, since I already told Augustus Arnone, who is doing it in a set in New York on April 20 that it would be a premiere. All right, they can both be premieres.

Meanwhile, I've watched Sibling Revelry streaming several times. Beff will vouch for that. It's fun watching the video director trying to figure out what to shoot during my piece -- there's lots of shots of people turning pages, and lots of shots of people sitting there not playing. Hey, since I don't write so many tuttis for band, it's nice seeing what's going on -- for most people, nothing. There's one good shot of a glissando on the marimba in which the player simply moves off the screen. Cool.

The last two days have been full of problem solving: the one problem being how to fix the "toggle buttons" on Beff's good winter coat. No place in Maynard had any buttons that were the right shape (think miniature cat poopies, except not grody) and size, and the 5&10 in West Concord was no help. Yesterday while the furnace was getting its yearly maintenance, Beff tried K-Mart, to no avail, and then we drove all the way to Shopper's World to look in the AC Moore store, which had something like what she needed (she got all six in the store, $14.18 with tax), but which turned out to be a little big to go through the holes in the coat. We considered going to the hardware store for sandpaper to sand them down a bit, but then she tried something with the existing old buttons (she has three of four) and stronger shoelaces. It worked. Today we walked downtown and got a bolt at Aubuchon Hardware to substitute as the fourth button. And the button saga comes to a temporary end. So much effort.

With Beff's help, I also cast my votes for the Grammies. This thing is largely done online, though the final ballot is a paper ballot. The available selections are slightly crappier than last year's selections, so I cast suitably crappier votes. Other mundane news includes the fact that we've gotten a ton of large coffee mugs this half-year -- four DOG theme mugs we had to get for our cabin in Maine, two handmade ones from Stacy, and two in the yearly package from Raj. The winner is -- Stacy's mugs, which are now our regular coffee mugs. We also made our year-end donations to new music groups, and made an online donation to Doctors Without Borders. I read with glee that finally the US has pledged more in aid to the tsunami victims than the cost of the inauguration.

Tomorrow is New Year's Day, which means Lee and Kate's party, and Lee making pierogis in a white bathrobe (actually, in the oven, but you can stop being literal now). We are bringing beer -- the 2004 Anchor Christmas ale, for instance. And we will listen to our iPods on the way. New music on mine, by the way: Brecker Bros. Back to Back (whole album), Nelly Tilt Ya Head Back (with Christina Aguilera),and Pink If God is a DJ. Both of the last two tunes have hooks -- as does "How to Read," by the way. But neither of those tunes quotes literally from "The Gardener," so I am unique in that regard, and what it is, too.

Pictures this week are a year-end wrap-up. There are 12, representing the months of the year, and are presented sequentially. The only one that may need explaining is June, in which Rick Moody emcees an event in New York wearing a DAVY--THE NAME MEANS QUALITY t-shirt. Oh, those cats were so CUTE when we first got them....

2005

JANUARY 7. Breakfast this morning was coffee and orange juice. Dinner was chicken sandwiches and fried tofu for me, snacky chicken and fried tofu for Beff, with salad. Lunch today for me was a bit of cream of chicken soup (we apparently had a coupon) until the cats started licking it. Yesterday's lunch was leftover pesto pasta. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST WEEK 25.3 and 52.3. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include orders of around 50 bucks, using up some Borders gift cards. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "It Was a Very Good Year." Who knows how the heck THAT got there? POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: All-New England my senior year in high school was in Glastonbury, Connecticut (I am still in contact with the family with whom I stayed), we rode down in Verne Colburn's boat of a car doing lots of bad Monty Python British accents, and were in line to register as a reporter from the Hartford Courant asked someone at the registration table, "what's the farthest away people have come for this?" Tim (whose last name I've forgotten) and I responded in unison, "hey, that's us!" So we were interviewed saying stupid things, made it into the Hartford Courant, and there was even a large picture of me playing in the trombone section in the paper -- that's on the Decoupage page of this website. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 1. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK We actually ran out of frozen chicken breasts. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: why can't academia be about teaching? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: jalapeno-stuffed olives, Tazo ice teas. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK none, but Beff's inhaler has been knocked over many a morning by Camden. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 3 or 4. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE dance fever, the exchange rate, imperceptibility, disease. I continue to dig those abstract nouns.

The Midwest Clinic is now a dim, dim memory save for the streaming video online (see the top of the page). I wrote feverishly, again, since the last update, producing much weird and wooly stuff, on the Rick Moody song "How to Read", and finished it on Monday. Wednesday, if editing and adding dynamics where I'd deliberately left them out to be decided later count. I send a PDF and MIDI of the sucker to Rick Moody, who called it cool and weird (it is both), and told Amy D that it was "antic and strange and wooly," which is also probably an apt description. I also sent it to Soozie, for whom, after all, it was written. She is in Florence (Italy, not Henderson) and said she'd read it when she was back in the States where there was a reliable phone connection. So I thus finished the Sex Songs just in time for school, and they clock in at 21 minutes. I then wrote to the estate of Edna St. Vincent Millay for permission for the Millay poem, which keeps me ahead of the curve. The order: Millay Sonnet, The Gardener, Streetsong, How to Read. How to Read is full of rock and roll gestures a la Moody's Blues, so there's no way it could be followed by anything. Or at least not by anything by me. I would hope it would be followed by thunderous applause, a standing ovation, and gobs of money floating into my hands. But I seem to have gotten off the beaten track again.

Soozie has also been doing a Copland Recording grant with Albany Records for Sex Songs and just about all the other stuff I've written for her over the years (yes, I now have written enough for her to fill an album), but since she is in Florence (with David Rutherford -- a scholar and my BEST friend at the American Academy in Rome, if only because he stood guard while I urinated on the Coliseum, and he didn't mind doing cheeseburgers at Big Benny with me on Sunday mornings), she was unable to get the required materials to Albany. So I did that -- printed scores, bound some scores, send CDs as I was directed. Including a copy of Beff's CD to give an example of Chris Oldfather's playing. Ironic that I sent it to Albany, which is the label it is on. In any case, that was a bit time-consuming.

I also went into Brandeis twice this week, thus restarting the living hell of the life of the Chairman. Will I make it through the next thirteen weeks? School starts Thursday, but that's only for non-Chairs. I will, by the way, be teaching orchestration in pro seminar. I also visited Nancy Redgate in the hospital on my way back this morning, and it was good to see her. She is as animated and opinionated as ever. I want her back in the office as soon as possible.

Weather played a big part of the previous week, especially the increasing lack of competence of They That Make's ability to predict within the current weather patter. To wit, the flurries of tomorrow became the snow showers of tomorrow became the Winter Storm Watch of tomorrow, with 2-4, no make that 3-5, no make that 4-6 or more inches of snow expected in the afternoon tomorrow. We had a storm on Wednesday and Thursday that was in two pieces that began with three inches of mostly cloudy (we walked downtown in it, where I had Buffalo wings, yum yum yum yum yum), and finished with another 3 or 4 inches of snow (we walked downtown in it, where I got a prescription renewed and we were lucky to find some buns for chicken sandwiches), some sleet, freezing rain and plain old rain. Crusty ice this morning with pock marks on it, and I spent maybe half an hour with the snowblower just after it changed to rain clearing the driveway. Beth thankfully dealt with the plow schmutz at the end of the driveway, which took as long to clear (since it was so heavy) as it took me to do the whole driveway. Just before I finished, the snowblower ran out of gas, which made for a nice wet return to the garage. So for two days, thoughts were mostly of the weather. As they will be tomorrow, dadburn it.

They That Make predict very warm (60 on Thursday) for the end of next week. Stay tuned to see how close they came.

Tomorrow Beff will be leaving early, as she is driving all the way to New Brunswick (the one in Canada) for a performance. Tomorrow she gets as far as Bangor after having her clarinet looked at in Searsport (the storm is forecast to leave 1-2" there), and on Sunday, which is predicted clear, she goes to Canada. Monday (good day for driving) she comes all the way back in one shot. So after she leaves -- thanks to the storm, long after -- Maynard Door and Window arrives (10 am) to see if they can do anything to fix our front door. Previously a locksmith declared the door too old for any parts to be found; this is our second opinion. If we can get it fixed, we can use the front door as a door, and eventually add a bathroom -- if that is what we want. Or even a small addition onto the house.

NYNME told me newly of performances of TWO CAN PLAY THAT GAME (an old sucker for Bcl and marimba) in Atlanta in April and New York in May. I can't make either one of them. Earlier I was told they were in February in LA and March in New York. Alas. Well, the Atlanta performance will be at Emory University, and you can make all the jokes you want. I'm already tired of the Emory board joke, even though I'm convinced I made it up on the spot.

Amy D is back from Sri Lanka, where she was in the mountains when the tsunami hit. We are all very glad she and Shehan are safe and that they made it back. She inquired about a new piece for piano, two toy pianos and electronics. I said the only thing I could: "What?"

This week we have a little icicle (in the shape of an upside-down peace sign) forming off pine needles in a gutter, and cats. For those of you who asked how big they are now.

JANUARY 14. Breakfast this morning was Morningside Farms meatless breakfast sausages with Kraft 2% milk sharp cheddar cheese slices, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was a smoked turkey sandwich, chips and a red delicious apple, with a can of pink lemonade. Dinner for me had been a clam roll, fries, s little fried calamari, and a bit of boneless Buffalo tenders, and beerage. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST WEEK 18.1 and 59.9. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include deposits into our Roth IRAs (number too large to print here). MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The chorus of "How to Read," the last of the Sex Songs. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I wrote a Pierrot piece for Alea II at Stanford, when Ross ran the group, and I came to town for the performance just as he had resigned from the position to go to Davis, and was trying to convince his colleagues to hire me. I was still untameable, though. Ross invited me to present my own music in his composition class, and invited his colleagues also to attend (they declined). I remember the look of horrifiedness on Ross's face when I was about to play my violin concerto, and simply tossed three large scores at the students sitting at desks. Incredibly, they offered me the job anyway. On my thirtieth birthday. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 1. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK The outgoing platform at the Lincoln train station is on the Donelan's side of the road. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: who was the first person to think the idea of a cuckoo clock was cool? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: pretty salty olives, deli pickles, sugar free popsicles, campari tomatoes. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK my ego. Not really, but it was fun to type. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 0. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE line dancing, depth, rolling deadlines, desire. Abstract nouns, all.

They that make were both right and wrong about yesterday's high temperature. You may recall that 60 was predicted as yesterday's high as long as a week ago, and I had made some plans in my head (the best place for them) to enjoy the balmy afternoon temperatures, which as of Wednesday, were still predicted to be 60. But at 1 the temperature was still 37, and it was mondo foggy. So lemme splain.

Early yesterday morning (6:41) I picked up Big Mike at his place to bring him in to teach his first day of the term (as it was the first day of the term). They that make had predicted it would be about 40 in the morning. But instead what was was 31 with a glaze of freezing rain on our sidewalk and driveway, and light freezing rain was still happening -- none of which was in the forecast. So I drove slowly to BM's place, and to work. We made it in less than record time, due to careful, likely elderly, drivers also going in, not to mention a big ol' cement mixer. But this is too much detail. I took Mike back after his class was over at noon, and I kept noting that a slice of pizza might be real nice. By now, by the way, it was mildly foggy and 37 degrees (not 60, in case you've been paying attention). And no pizza place reared its pretty, boring, or ugly head. BM then mentioned that there was a very greasy pizza place next to his complex, so we stopped there. I told him "your slice is on me," and ordered two plain slices. Then for whatever reason, BM ordered two pepperoni slices. He just didn't hear, I guess. So I paid for all four slices, and we each had one of each. When I got back home, I did some salad, but not the full lunch I had been expecting. And at 37 and foggy, there was no outing to enjoy the weather.

Meanwhile, Geoffy was on his way, and we had appointed to (this is complicated, so pay attention) meet Lee at the Lincoln train station at 6:10, drive to the deCordova museum (in Lincoln) to take a gander at the installation Kate's been putting up all week, go to our house for some munchies, and then go to a restaurant with them and Geoff. So Beff 'n' I waited at the Lincoln train station for a half hour while a train zoomed right by at 6:06. We called Geoffy's cell phone and found out that he had arrived. Then he called my cell phone and said someone called Kate had called our answering machine and said that Lee had been waiting at the train station a half hour, she was waiting outside in the deCordova parking lot, and would not be able to make another call after the current one. We zipped across to the other side of the street, where a SEPARATE platform served outgoing passengers, picked Lee, up and drove deCordovawards. About a half hour late.

And then the fog got thicker and thicker as we approached the deCordova, until the visibility was no more than about five feet. We got on the road for the deCordova, and I was tailgated by an SUV that kept flicking its high beams to get me to speed up (I uttered some choice words heard only by those in our car). Luckily, the deCordova entrance was well marked, though the driveway was long; the museum itself was dark, the lone figure in the parking lot was Kate, and we picked her up. We couldn't see the installation (see "the museum itself was dark"). But we slowly drove back (see "visibility was no more than five feet"), once barely missing two deer that bound across the road in front of us (I would have been rear-ended if I had stopped short), and freaking out both of our back seat passengers.

Well. Eventually the fog got less thick (it was still 37 degrees out) when we got back to Great Road, we made it to the Quarterdeck Seafood restaurant, where Geoffy had established a beachhead (he said five, and we had eight chairs ... ?), and Kate ordered a Glenlivet (pronounced Glen-liv-ay by the waitress, who wore a track suit). A full glass of Scotch the size of a Buick was served, so Kate was happy. See above for what I got, and Beff got some sort of fish with capers. By now we had all calmed down, the freshness and deliciousness of the fish was alluded to precisely 87 times, and we finished in plenty of time to get Lee and Kate to the 8:57 out of South Acton. When we got outside, some of the fog had lifted, and the temperature had zoomed up to 57 -- all in an hour and a half. At the South Acton station, plenty of fog was still rolling around (lifting and rolling, etc.) so we watched it. When the train arrived with the lights piercing the peasoupy fog still remaining down the tracks, it looked like a Bergman film. We said exactly that. And then they left. Back at home, I took a beer and made Geoffy watch Sibling Revelry streaming online -- since one of the etudes from which it sprung was written for him. At 10:30 I mentioned to Geoff (who was having Calvados) that I had had enough beer, was ready for bed, and if Jay Eckardt were here he would coax me into two more beers. Then I said, "another drink?", Geoff said yes, and I joined him. Then we all went to bed.

Things at Brandeis were very intense this week, including an emergency meeting (you know why) to make a counterproposal (to you know what). In the morning I dashed off (there were periods, commas and question marks, too) a 3-page talking points memo to get things rolling. After an hour of treading water, things happened. And, alas, the perception was that my leadership was thick enough to cut with a knife. Crap. As one of the almost eleven suggested last term, I need more creative incompetence, less leadership. Oh well, maybe it's time to let some things fall apart.

Meanwhile, here I mention that Geoffy cleans up after himself, and drinks the mineral water that we have for only him. There is a little bit of water in the basement -- as the temp shot up to 59.9 today, it poured, and the temp dropped again. We went into Cambridge today for separate reasons, and I sent Beff on an errand to make our 2004 Roth IRA contributions in downtown Boston. But the storm -- warm as it was -- whipped her umbrella inside out several times, as she was near the ocean, and she got soaked through and through. She made a point of calling me where I was to let me know she got soaked through and through. But she did also accomplish the other goal, which was to get a copy of American Record Guide at Virgin Records, where we are BOTH reviewed this month. I get to be a leading light, and the reviewer imagined people squirming during the second movement of Ten of a Kind. Beff has a knack for atonal chord voicings. See Reviews 3 for the complete review. It was 57 degrees today at 9:30 am, and 37 at 1; we encountered mixed rain and sleet as we entered Maynard when we returned. But a great majority of the snow on the ground disappeared, and I like it when that happens.

Over the weekend I responded to another challenge by the estimable Rick Moody. Originally it was to be a minimalism/pulse etude ripping apart the regularity of classic minimalist gestures. Instead, I actually had fun writing it, used as a source a chord from HOW TO READ, and subtitled it "impatient minimalist etude on chord-building". It is #66 and I still have no title for it, though "Out of Minimalism (but we expect more tomorrow)" was a working title. Amy and Rick and Geoffy are on the case naming the piece (Music for One Player, Music for Two Hands, Mini Mouse), but nothing has suited me yet. There is an E pedal throughout, so both Geoff and I thought of "E-Machine," but that would just be silly. Willy. Dilly. Pilly.

There were two sloppy snow/ice storms this last week, not including today's torrential rain. This weather pattern is a bummer. Plenty of back-breaking exercise, however. Meanwhile, Beff beat one of the storms when she drove to Moncton, New Brunswick (that's in Canada) on Saturday -- a group there played a few movements of various video/no video piece. The performance sounded good. Meanwhile, Beff also found out that "Winnifred Goes Outside" will be done next month in the Bangor Auditorium. Whoa. As to Wednesday's dreary storm, I actually took the train in. So there.

I think Soozie and Don Berman did some songs of mine at the American Academy in Rome today. I could be wrong.

This was not a week of picture taking, so I submit two larger than usual shots of cats reclining.

JANUARY 21. Breakfast this morning was a large hamburger bun (from BJs) toasted with lowfat peanut butter, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner was strifry chicken from a Trader Joe's Kung Pao stir fry packet with the Kung Pao sauce discarded and lemongrass sauce substituted. Lunch was the two slice special at Cappy's. Today's lunch was Sun Bird hot and sour sour (for both of us) with Mongolian fire oil and white pepper added. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST WEEK -1.8 and 38.9. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include an gift certificate from the department to Jim Olesen in appreciation of his service as Chair -- believe me, I know "service" is not exactly the right word here. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The very end of the bandstration of "Strident." POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: somewhere midst our old, old memorabilia is a small notebook of cute things I said before any of my memory kicks in (about 4). It is said that, when caught picking crabapples when told not to, I explained "I was only picking the leaves." This same notebook reminds me that my brother used to call me "Dready" (spelled "Dreddy" in the book), obviously not referring to any unfortunate hairstyle choices -- yet. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 2. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK iPods are not so inexpensive. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: other than the color, what's the difference between lemonade and pink lemonade? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: campari tomatoes, honey barbecue chips made with canola oil, sugar free popsicles. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK a bunch of rolled-up pieces of newspaper. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 2. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE suaveness, continuing education, shampoo envy, paint allergies.

Them what make are waffling about a big snowstorm forecast to pass to our south about 24 hours from when this is posted -- do we get snow showers, 3 to 5 inches, 1 to 2 feet? The Weather Bug down in my system tray was chirping at me as I started typing (about 3:30 in the afternoon) to get me to find out that "heavy snow advisory" was in the works -- following quickly on the heels of a "heavy snow advisory." Gosh, these weather advisories are like the Republican talking points (footnote to the Daily Show and Jon Stewart): they must be true, because they're said a lot.

The problem with a heavy snow advisory is that we are slated to go to the BMOP concert tomorrow night to hear the premiere of Eric Chasalow's Something about Sunspots piece, as well as Martino's Clarinet Concerto and pieces by Elliott Schwartz and Tom McKinley. By the way, this concert is called The Boston Connection (they have such a concert yearly), and the networking capabilities of Elliott Schwartz -- who lives 175 miles from Boston -- are once again in evidence. Either that, or metro Boston is growing at an exponential rate (at the same time Massachusetts was the only state to lose population since the turn of the century). Now I've gotten really far off the beaten track. Anyway, if the snow starts too early, then we won't go to the concert. Ironically, it'll be a Tom McKinley thing back from undergrad days: "I'll catch the tape, man." I'm leaving out the part where part of his chicken salad sandwich gets spit out as he says it.

The event of the week was likely our MLK Day brunch at our house, which attracted two childful couples and one childless one. Del and Laura (who was referred to be others as LK) came with Alexandra -- and some flowers -- and Sam and Laurie came with Georgia -- the daughter, not the state. Cammy would have none of it, and, once Alexandra got into kiddie kitty petting mode, neither would Sunny. So in the morning with those two couples, there were bagels and coffee to be had by all (including by me), as well as cherries and strawberries and various other fruits we made our contribution to the affair. Ken and Hillary made it around noon, so the activities were spread far and wide within the household. LK, who is a professional photographer, used our window seats downstairs to take nice pictures of Georgia, and meanwhile Alexandra was kept mostly quiet by a showing of one of our many Looney Tunes DVDs. She had to sit about a foot from the TV so it would be loud enough for her and so the adults could have conversations. Alexandra also got to play a vibraslap (the thrill leaves pretty fast) and have her own (light blue) blanket. After the kidful couples had to split, we took Ken and Hillary out to the Village Pizzeria for Buffalo wings, where I was the only one to have Buffalo wings. Hillary had a giant chicken Caesar salad that could have fed all of Liberia, and I forget what Beff and Ken had.

I had spent much of the weekend doing a draft of the Music Department's response to the Dean's Looney Bin proposal, with much input -- much of it conflicting -- from two of my colleagues. I had to filter out some disrespectful tone suggested by one and some superfluous statistics suggested by another. And then it was sent Wednesday morning. Thursday was a faculty meeting, and the amazing collegiality from the previous meeting was less in immediate evidence. I hate being the Chair.

On David Sanford's recommendation, Beff got a Danish film called FIVE OBSTRUCTIONS, which I thought was both pretty cool and pretty tiresome. The premise was better than the movie: a director was challenged to remake a movie of his from the 1960s in five different ways with limitations (obstructions) posed by another director (who Beff posited would be the kind of filmmaker whose films you'd talk about but not ever watch). The first remake, in Cuba with the limitation of no edit longer than 12 frames, was pretty cool. The remake as a cartoon was cool, too, and it was interesting to hear the phrase "MTV" in Danish -- it sounds the same. So when we weren't watching Obstructions, we were watching vast swaths of the fifth season of Buffy (the Glory year).

Two nights ago I got ten hours of sleep. Heaven.

On Tuesday I taught my first orchestration class, thus being in front of a classroom for the first time in seven months. It was, actually, thrilling. Reminding me, of course, that that's what I really like doing, not toning down the expletives I would otherwise hurl at the hand that feeds my department. It was pretty high octane most of the time (duh), and I actually spent some down time afterwards doing something else I haven't done in seven months -- thinking of more ways to present the material in a way that was both fun and valuable. For the first time in their lives, eight graduate students went home with unmarked CDs with excerpts of Looney Tunes cartoon music with the assignment to transcribe about 10 to 15 seconds of anything in the excerpts. I am both crafty and mean. What they don't know yet (because it's something I decided in that down time) is that they will get my now world-famous analysis of Nuages (well, famous in my world, anyway) with a new layer of orchestration layered into the argument. I already said a few things about Nuages in the class, actually. I will, by the way, try to be catching myself from doing what other teachers of orchestration have done (according to anecdotal evidence from others): no long stories about Lenny, and no standing there with a fake expression of wonderment on my face as an excerpt plays on the stereo and I point vaguely sideways and skywards while blurting out "clarinets!" or "masking in the cello pizz." as the music passes by. Several students said it was a good class. They were probably sucking up.

I also scheduled my NEC students to exactly the same time and day of the week as last term. Cool. Calls to Mac Peyton and Mike Gandolfi were made to confirm the room. Mac was out. Mike sounded majorly stressed -- and I realized it was because a) he is Chair and b) he has a BSO performance coming up. Oh lawdy.

Tonight -- mere hours after this post -- we are going to the deCordova for the official reception for Kate's opening. The art has been on view for a week now (see last week's post about fog, seafood, Geoff, etc.), but the reception is tonight. Our small part in the whole affair (formerly the "audience") grew by leaps and bounds this morning as Kate called to request a ride from the Lincoln train station at 5:56 to the affair -- which we can do now because we discovered where the outbound part of the train station actually is. So instead of verging on 60 and very foggy, it should be about 5 degrees and clear. The difference? 55. And our dinner plans changed from chicken sandwiches to Domino's delivery. I hope for pepperoni.

Over the weekend I was notified of about 8 more upcoming performances of which I had been unaware, and made sure to post them on "Performances" here. Strangely, I had gotten the standard twice yearly "here are my performances this term" e-mail from Eric Chasalow, which listed something in New York by the "Sinfonietta Moderna," of which I had never heard. On Saturday -- two weeks later than Eric's e-mail -- I got an e-mail requesting bio and program notes for my Feb 13 performance of Sesso e Violenza (face it, a pretty huge piece) by the Sinfonietta Moderna at Merkin Hall (at this point I always remember being told that a "merkin" was a pubic wig in Yiddish, and I've never wanted to know what it was actually used for). And then Rick Moody asked if I knew a NYC area pianist with one of the more "athletic" etudes under his or her fingers to play free for a Yaddo benefit, and I gave him Adam Marks, who is playing Fists of Fury this term -- the day before Sinfonietta Moderna, as it turns out. And then other stuff. So there, smarty pants. I don't even know yet if I can make it to Sinfonietta Moderna -- all bets are on no. Crap.

On Tuesday I got the usual yearly wacky e-mail from Danny K -- actually, I usually get the wacky e-mail as an invitation to a Labor Day bash in some generic location. I met him when he came to my "young composers write for Alea III" slopfest (I speak both of the performance and of the piece) in 1989, and he engraved my Louise Bogan songs for Peters (paid for by me) and some of Beff's songs as well. In 1995 I named a commercial font after him (Kastner Casual). On Tuesday I found out in this wacky e-mail that he was to be one of the contestants on the third season of The Apprentice. Last night I watched about the first half hour of the Apprentice, but it's not the kind of show that sucks me in -- Beff watched to the bitter end and gave me updates afterwards. Danny was the one with the guitar, and who thought of "just say cheese!" as a marketing slogan for a Burger King triple cheeseburger, to a sea of stonefaced Burger King executives. See, Beff explained it very well. Last time I actually saw Danny -- 1992 -- he was 27 years old and clean shaven.

And meanwhile, arctic cold has gripped the area. I know that because that's exactly how all the TV weathercasters say it.

This week's pictures include Sunny in his new bed, and five MLK day shots: Del's coffee (Stacy's mug), Alexandra and Georgia, Laurie Alexandra Georgia and LK, Sam, and Del.

JANUARY 30. Breakfast this morning was grapefruit, Morningside Farms meatless sausages with Kraft 2% cheddar-ish cheese, and coffee. Dinner last night was vegetable tempura and a clam roll (at the Quarterdeck Seafood restaurant). Lunch was a large salad with fat-free balsamic vinaigrette. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST NINE DAYS -7.6 and 36.9. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include a gift for Carolyn Davies in appreciation for all the extra work she's had to do since mid-October with Nancy Redgate's illness. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The MIDI of "How to Read," since I just played it for Geoffy. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: my senior year of high school I got put into a little six-man group that learned how to sing a barbershop arrangement of "Yes Sir, That's My Baby." My part was the top part (there were two of us on it, two on the bass part, one each on the middle parts), which I memorized. But I never sang that part in performance. At the spring concert, the guy doing the baritone part was summarily thrown out of the chorus for missing rehearsals, so I had to sight-read that part in the concert (I was the only one looking at a score, as photographic evidence suggests). Then we were asked to sing it on some gonzo senior event in the gymnasium, and the guys doing the bass part didn't show up. So I made up a bass part for that performance. And sang it. Good thing the drinking age was 18 at the time, so the seniors didn't notice the creativity of my ad hoc harmonies. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 1. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK flu symptoms don't necessarily come with a big fever; and Theraflu makes your tongue bumpy. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: why does global warming mean we get more snow here? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Remedy (hot water with honey and lemon), campari tomatoes, jalapeno-stuffed olives, Buffalo wing sauce. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK none. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: feels like about a hundred. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE contingent interdependencies, vertical sonorities, contrapuntal aggregate formations, interval vectores (I went to Princeton).

My news that trumps the much snow of the week is my flu/virus/illness that kept me in bed pretty much from Thursday morning to this morning (Sunday). There wasn't much to miss at Brandeis (just a Chairs meeting), so it didn't make me a bad person to stay at home, particularly as it was hard to turn my head at any speed without wooziness. I had a fever of 99.9 on Friday afternoon, but it was back down to 97.1 on Saturday morning (the Circadian rhythm, I guess). Still, I spent much time on all three days in the comfort of my bed, though frankly I don't remember much about being asleep. On Friday Seungah HAD to come over so I could look at and approve her piano concerto as her dissertation piece, and I hadn't showered in two days and my hair was rat's nesty, so I wore my pink winter hat -- which is either a creampuffy gangsta rapper hat, or as Martin calls it, the "Mommy, will you buy me this?" hat. This will be but a small part of the stories that Seungah tells her grandchildren about getting the Brandeis doctorate. I hope she doesn't include the smell.

Besides all of that, there was the story that still dominates Boston TV and newspapers (or more generically, the media), that was the snow showers of which I spoke here in the last update. A week of Arctic chill (we were "in its grip") followed by the fifth largest snowstorm in 110 years of weather records in Boston, followed by more Arctic chill, followed by another day of snow showers that accumulated seven inches here, followed by yet more Arctic chill. Thanks to all the snow, urban areas are a real mess, and even Maynard -- not too urban by any means -- is having big problems. Pathways from the street onto the sidewalk are bounded by five-foot high piles of snow. In past years after big snowstorms, within a week all the big piles got transported into the Assabet -- or wherever they take them. Not so this snow.

So on Monday, everybody cancelled everything. I even got a free pass not to teach my NEC students for the first time this term. Plus, it doesn't have to be made up -- but I will offer to anyway. Tuesday Beff and I went into Brandeis on treacherous icy roads as far as Weston, and came back on roads that were still treacherous and icy. Wednesday everybody decided to follow through with classes and stuff despite the snowstorm. Big Mike said that getting to school took an hour and a half instead of a half hour for him, and I took the 7:58 am train into work, which turned into the 8:30 train, which ended up being free. All my students were late because of the storm. And my train going back was on time. Midst my noon student, Brandeis decided to close at 2. The snow kept coming down for another five hours, and everybody was talking about it again in the Boston media. Boston school superintendent got into hot water for calling classes into session on Wednesday, so he closed them again Thursday and Friday.

And when my NEC students e-mailed about our meeting, I got to bore them, and terribly so, with my lame stories about the Blizzard of '78 -- which happened when I was a sophomore at NEC. How boring? I mentioned that Star Pizza had the only hot food, but no napkins, so we wiped our hands on the snow. Now that's boring.

Meanwhile. I didn't go to the BMOP concert on Saturday, but it happened anyway. By the time it was over, we had had about eight inches here, so I was glad (in terms of still being alive) that we didn't go. They get to keep my fifty-six bucks anyway. When we got up on Saturday morning, much snow was there for the shoveling, and we did most of it by hand, in three forty-five minute shifts. The snowblower was used only in the last shift, as the snow was actually too high for it. It can handle about 15-18 inches on the ground, and I measured 21. Surprisingly, it was not my back that stiffened up later, but the front part of my legs. Huh. Nonetheless, I get to note that I was in Boston for four of its five biggest storms ever, which was true before this storm -- this one nudged out another one I was here for in the top five. Meanwhile, Boston's biggest snow ever, the President's Day Storm from February 2003, was not that big out here. Another storm not even on Boston's radar was even bigger out here than the one we just had. And that one was our first year here, when Beff decreed, "oh, let's not get a snowblower. Let's just see what the first year is like." She was safely ensconced in Maine for that storm, by the way, while I fumed at home about my lack of snowblower and no lack of shoveling to do.

Last word about the weather: for Boston, this was the snowiest January ever, and the snowiest month ever. Everywhere you go that people like to deal in superlatives, you will hear this mentioned. Thirteen straight days with the temps not exceeding freezing. Oh yeah, and after our shoveling, we were treated to a little butt-kicking by the Patriots on the Steelers. For that, we needed a TV.

This afternoon is Brandeis's yearly Irving Fine concert, which in this case is a piano recital by Jerry Kuderna. I have met Jerry in California, and he seemed like a nice guy. He has been talking for exactly twelve years about playing etudes of mine, and for all I know, it finally happens this afternoon. He is doing Nocturnal. As well as plenty of other stuff by Americans (which is what I am).

Tuesday, besides being a harrowing drive, was the Beff show in my orchestration class. She demonstrated the clarinets, answered many questions, and basically took away an hour and a half I would otherwise have had to fill with my talking. Thanks, Beff. Then the students showed their Looney Tunes transcriptions, which were surprisingly accurate. And I assigned clarinet choir arrangements.

Monday, being a snow day, became tax day for us. Yes, dear almost eleven, we collected and categorized all of 2004's receipts, and wrote them down but did not add them up. I can report without fear of contradiction that we spent $111 for seafood when Soozie and Chris were in town (deductible!), gave about $3000 to charity, and the Triplets of Belleville soundtrack, which was 28 bucks, is deductible because I used it in class as an example of a piece that begins with augmented triads. Do I rock, or what?

I got several e-mails from people this week mentioning the Atlantic Center thing coming up, and I guess it's because they (le Centre Atlantique) sent out an e-mail to some mailing list about it. It seems they don't send out big posters any more, like they used to, so this is the new way to get the word out. I spoke to Harold Meltzer, who said there were only two fellows that went there for Lew Spratlan's session -- at a time I was originally offered, by the way.

Dyna Mike (Marine Mike) e-mailed, too, who finally had some time with the inauguration being over. He mentioned that he was taking "Sibling Revelry" off the April 10 MB concert (it disappeared from my Performances page, too) because he needed the "real estate." Oh, to go from Pulitzer finalist to "real estate" all within the same organization within a few years. Oh, the humanity! Well, at least that gives me an extra three days in April that I don't have to travel. And they were real nice to do it in the first place, though they're probably not aware of the elaborate excuse I gave to the publisher not to charge the band for the performance materials. But we will, of course, do our yearly get together on Lake Carmi in which we have too much beer before 11 am. This has now achieved the status of ritual.

Geoff Burleson stayed here overnight for a Musica Viva rehearsal, and just went out this morning. I gave him the score of etude #66, the title part of which goes

LESS IS

to Rick Moody

...and he quipped "...as more is... to...William Faulkner"? Now that comparison questions are being removed from the SATs, maybe we can celebrate that here with one more question. Almost eleven, you may make up your own answers.

Less Is:Rick Moody

a) More is:William Faulkner

b) One is:The Loneliest number

c) Two is:Company, Three's a Crowd

d) Pennies:From Heaven

e) Some Is:Some Ain't

Now for the first time in an update, I actually said somebody "quipped" something. Is there something wrong with me?

Beff was in Vermont attending to family biz on Friday, by the way. Just wanted to report that. She said there was MUCH LESS snow in Vermont. Huh. When she got back last night, I was well enough to want to go out for dinner, but certainly didn't feel like cooking. Tonight, by the way, it's pasta in a nice tomato sauce, etc.

Amy D reported that she played a trio of etudes TWICE, including once at a noon concert at Palomar College. Schnozzage was one of them, and it's become obvious that whenever Schozzage is played by anyone, it becomes the story of the whole concert, especially in the media. From "Rakowski nose music" a few years ago to "Dissanayake uses her nose and hands to play" this time. There is a story online (I'm sure Amy wouldn't want me giving the almost eleven the URL, but if you Google "Schnozzage" it is currently the first hit), and of course the picture is of "Give me a pianist and make it lean" (the epigraph on the score).

Which gives me TWO unique things on the internet. If you google "Schozzage" or "Martian Counterpoint" (in quotes), all the hits refer to me. "Sibling Revelry" on the other hand, gives hundreds of hits that are not me -- so Beff and I were less clever than we thought when we came up with that title. And I can't even prounounce it without scrupulous preparation! Uh, Sib... wing... wevelwy.... Just as a silly footnote, when I taught at Stanford and Sean invited himself over for beer, he referred to it as "dwunken wevelwy."

Yesterday afternoon I e-mailed Amy D about , a sort of conceptual piece wherein a computer picture of a cat looking at a picture of a cat on a computer is then layered with a cat looking at that picture, etc., ad infinitum, has reached almost 700. The sequence is pretty funny. So Amy sent me a picture of her cat Ranjith, and said he wanted to be on my web page. I sent back a picture of Sunny looking at the pic on the iMac, she got Reena looking at that pic, and I spent a LONG time getting Cammy to sit still and look at that picture (my portfolio has Cammy in at least five locations NOT looking at the picture). You will see the whole sequence below -- oh, the wonders of the internet. Meanwhile, there are also four pictures of the aftermath of the Blizzard of '05 out here -- before the extra seven inches got piled on on Wednesday.

FEBRUARY 4. Breakfast this morning was half a grapefruit, toast with lowfat peanut butter, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was Thai Ginger grilled chicken with mushrooms and salad (marinade by Emeril). Lunch was tomato, pepperoncini, cheese, and olive sandwiches. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST FIVE DAYS 2.5 and 39.4. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are a new burr coffee grinder purchased on amazon, free shipping, $139; Boston Symphony tickets, $158. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Laura Nyro's "Marry Me Bill." POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: as graduate students, we (we roommates me, Beff and Martler) were invited to a party in an undergrad's dorm room. This was at Princeton, the only place we were all graduate students. It was Halloween, so we presumed we should come in some sort of costume. So I put on my old security guard uniform, down to the MSI badge (#2653) and winter coat. When we got there, undergraduates were wearing heavy lipstick and ballgowns (well, the women were, anyway), and we felt, um, at least a little underdressed. Especially me. We didn't stay long. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 4. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the defunct TV series WONDERFALLS, just released on DVD. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: how many trees are killed by pointless forms? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: real lemonade, real limeade, cherry tomatoes, Cains hamberger dill crinkle-cut slices. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK none. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 3. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the hypothetical other, riotous behavior, a Twix bar, seven barrels of half-sour pickles. I'm now mixing abstract and concrete nouns. Pour Davy.

This is a short week due to my getting back on schedule after having the flu (or a virus) last week. Thus I would hope there would be a lot fewer words below here before you get to the pictures than for last week's nine-day report. They That Make screwed up pretty bad with the overnight weather leading right up to this morning. As recently as 30 hours ago, Maynard was forecast to get no precipitation from an ocean storm ominously backing in to New England -- only coastal sections were to get rain and snow showers. For a while before that, a light wintry mix was forecast. As of yesterday afternoon, while it was raining in Maynard, the forecast switched to snow showers without accumulation to mixed precipitation with no accumulation, to an inch overnight. We woke up to three inches of heavy, heavy, heavy wet snow that was even more difficult to shovel than the aftermath of the blizzard. So you see, gentle almost eleven, I may still pay close attention to the They That Make channel, but I have learned to disregard much of what is said. And of course I won't patronize their advertisers. Or be patronizing to them.

We did, however, snap out of the Arctic cold in whose grip we were. It has been above freezing every day since the last update, and temps up in the 40s are forecast for the weekend and Monday. This pleases me -- despite that I may have to shovel off the flat roof just off the bedroom window.

If anything momentous happened during the week, it was the discovery of the defunct series "Wonderfalls", just released on DVD, which Beff somehow had the good sense to buy. We have watched the first seven episodes of the existing thirteen, only four of which actually ever aired in America. It is a much better show than the critics' current darling "Arrested Development", especially if you're into talking animal figurines. Good old Fox aired "Married With Children" for nine seasons, and Wonderfalls only four weeks, not even consecutive weeks. Well, then. I'm hoping greatly that, unlike Freaks and Geeks, it doesn't jump the shark.

Other momentous things that occurred included the resumption of my teaching duties at NEC, and the opportunity to walk around the heavily commercial neighborhood and stock up on CryBaby Tears -- more about those later. I also picked up tickets to the February 18 BSO concert on which Yehudi Wyner's new piano concerto is to be premiered (Chiave in Mano -- Keys in the Hand, must be a punchline to some pornographic Italian joke, knowing Yehudi), and had one of the quick lunches at Pizzeria Uno. For those looking for cuisine in that area, the chicken thumbs at Pizzeria Uno are to be steadfastly avoided. Oh, why couldn't that neighborhood have a Bertucci's instead? As to the teaching, it was like the old times we never had, but will soon. I checked out NEC's vacation schedule, and with the vacation days and the Monday snow day we had because of the blizzard, I'm making much more per hour of actual teaching than I did in the fall. And for that I am a) truly sorry b) very lucky c) fair of face.

Dyna Mike has been my source for CryBaby Tears for the last four years (there's a candy store in the mall near him with those big clear plastic things and scoops and plastic bags that you pay for by the pound, and one of the plastic things has CryBaby Tears), but I have sort of lost my cravings for them. So this time I sent two boxes of CryBaby Tears that I bought in Boston back to him, one each to each of his kids (one is named Jack, and the one that isn't named Jack is named Claire. The one not named Claire is named Jack). So in a way I retaliated for the reclassication of SIBLING REVELRY as "real estate" by increasing his dental bills. While at the same time being cute. That part I just can't help.

I was interviewed by the Brandeis Justice (student newspaper) after one of my colleagues was interviewed and said a few things that maybe he/she shouldn't have. I tiptoed mightily around the questions slung at me, yet I may still be quoted in the paper saying something I shouldn't have. It was my own fault for having a glass of wine with dinner, I guess. Maybe this is the creative incompetence I have been looking for all this time.

Oh yes; according the The President's Own page, Mindy Wagner's piece 57/7 Dash in the new band arrangement filled part of the void left by the real estate departure -- it had been advertised in the glossy spring brochure along with my piece, but had never been put onto the web page. This pleases me to no end. Some while ago the two of us had planned to go to the gig together and do silly, giddy things as we did at the MacDowell Colony in '01 (i.e., have fun-fun), but now that's put off to another day. The nice arrangement of La Valse is also on that show, so now it's a pretty fabulous concert. And I helped.

I am trying to have firm resolve to go to the February 13 concert in NYC featuring SESSO E VIOLENZA -- actually rather a major piece, now that I think of it -- but it's at 8 and I have an appointment at Brandeis -- an EXTREMELY important one -- at 10:30 the next morning. So, weather will be a factor in whether or not I actually go. Alas, the night before there is a Brandeis composers concert, and I already know Eric Chasalow isn't going (if "I'm going to NYC on a train on Friday and returning the following Monday" is interpreted literally) to that concert. If I choose, for weather's sake, to go to NYC on Saturday, that leaves only Marty as the faculty rep at this concert, and that would look bad. Almost eleven, I'm pleased to share my not-so-complicated thought processes about this with you.

Also on April 15 there will be some sort of Arts Buffet or Barbecue at Brandeis, and luckily I'm booked to be in that gonzo creativity thing at UMass Dartmouth that day, so I'm excused from service. But Shane from the Office of the Arts was talking about thematic things to call the buffet items. Context: we recently received permission to use the Bernstein name, as in, Bernstein taught at Brandeis a few years in the 1950s, and they were thinking of Bernstein-themed foods. Bernstein burgers? I suggested West Side Story-themed foods: sushi for the Sharks, and airline food for the Jets. From here it only got sillier. How could it not?

Groundhog Day came and went, and it was sunny. Bummer -- six more weeks of winter. Hence this three slopful inches from overnight. Beff still has to go out and do the plow schmutz in the driveway before we go out to Trader Joes, etc. and Staples for staples. We need more coffee beans, for instance, and we have to spend our Staples rewards certificate. But not until the driveway schmutz is dealt with.

Meanwhile, the cheap Black & Decker coffee grinder clogged yet again this morning -- it does so more frequently than weekly now -- so we ordered an actual high quality burr grinder on amazon this morning. Because I am tired of yelling at inanimate objects, especially those that carry the Black and Decker logo. Later, Beff accepted a call from the Bangor Daily News, who is covering her premiere in Bangor this weekend -- WINNIFRED GOES OUTSIDE is to be done by the all-woman jazz band The Edith Jones Project. I will be left at home with all the Jets and Sharks I can eat.

Danny K was fired on last night's The Apprentice. Now my Thursday nights are free again.

Don't look up "Schozzage" on Google. "Schnozzage" is the correct word, and I love how it asks if I really meant "schnozzle."

Mmm. sure could use some good limeade right about now.

Amy D sent another picture of Ranjith, this time looking at this page in last week's manifestation. So I took a picture of Sunny looking at that. Amy's family in New Hampshire is apparently going to start playing the game, too. Martler thought the cats thing was funny, too, so I posed his Oxford brochure with Sunny in his little cat bed. I'm sure you will agree that it is knee-slapping hilarious.

As to the pictures: Sunny and Martler; Sunny viewing Ranjith viewing my web page; one of the unsuccessful poses with Cammy from last week; generic cute kitty picture; the icicles dropped from the roof onto the other roof outside the computer room; the view out the front door this morning; Beff trying to get Cammy in from his hiding place (she is shaking a bag of kitty treats); and a shot of the Assabet River from December 23 that was still on the card in the camera.

FEBRUARY 11. Breakfast this morning was orange juice and coffee. Dinner was 95% lean hamburgers with nonfat cheese, pickles and tomatoes, and Polish fries. Lunch had been hot and sour soup and, later, at the Stein, a basket of signature fries (which came out looking more like Woodstock's signature -- the bird in Peanuts). TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST WEEK 21.0 and 53.1. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include a new front-load washer, $720 plus tax, and a new CD deck, $129 plus tax. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Various licks from "A Gliss is Just a Gliss" and comparable licks that might eventually fit into a left-hand etude. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: the one time during our relationship -- pre-marriage -- that Beff cooked for me in a substantial way was Cornish game hens, for Thanksgiving, at Beff's apartment in Portland, Oregon -- this was the year she taught at Reed College and I taught at Stanford. Alas, I developed a stomach virus necessitating much time riding the porcelain pony soon after, and the temptation was to relate the cooking to the virus. There was no relationship between the two. But I sure do remember all those pony rides, which commenced every half hour on the hour and half hour. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 0. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK details about the distinctions between front-load and top-load washers, as researched on the internet by Beff. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: why is there no "th" in "Nor'easter"? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: campari tomatoes, jalapeno-stuffed olives. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK none. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 0. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a ham sandwich, two ham sandwiches, three ham sandwiches, four ham sandwiches. Davy's creativity in this regard is at a low ebb this morning.

This is the week that made me really, really, really, really want to stop being the Chair. Enough details about Brandeis. I was asked for materials for one of my possible antidotes to this friggin place, and sent them out on Saturday.

They That Make -- maybe I should start calling them Then What Make -- screwed up pretty badly on the Nor'easter that just passed through yesterday (and which is still having its way in eastern Maine). As usual, the forecast four days before the storm was for snow showers or mixed precip on Thursday, and two days before, lots of dire predictions and big, big letters on TV weather maps called for another big one. As of Wednesday morning all the news channels put our part of the state in a 12-18 inch snowfall or even a 15-18 inch snowfall band, and it was to be heavy, wet stuff that makes hands blister and grown men cry. On Wednesday morning in the South Street Market, the register guy was saying "they say a foot and a half to two feet -- that means a dustin'." Register guy did better than Them What Make. So when we got up yesterday morning, rather early, it was raining. The red-faced Them What Make TV people said "the rain-snow line is 60 miles north of where we thought it would be." Meaning the storm went farther north, and is still a bad storm in Bangor, with upwards of two feet (3-6 inches originally predicted). Here, it rained until 3:30 and changed to light snow, ending up with about two inches on a crusty surface. It was easy enough for me to shovel in my bathrobe (but not WITH my bathrobe). And I was even able to shovel a path from the back walk to the bulkhead. Reasons to follow.

My teaching this week was full of joy and passion, as it always is. Well, at least my part of it was. Even the drive to NEC was fun, the Buffalow wings I had for lunch at a nearby bar was fun, and the lessons there were fun, too. I walked to the Pru to get more CryBaby Tears, which I awarded to Nathan and Mary (the NEC students), and even had a cellphone conversation with someone in California.

During the other times, Beff noticed that more and more of our clothes were getting greenish-blackish spots on them from being washed, and that can never be good -- this has been happening since December, and we tried doing a few blank loads with bleach to make it stop, and it worked for a while. So Beff looked it up on the internet, and it seems that our old washer -- which came with the house when we bought it -- is probably leaking oil. And oil leak is mucho expensive to fix -- not to mention leaking oil means eventually maybe washer explode or overheat or something. So Beff then researched washers on the internet, and we settled on a front loader Whirlpool from Best Buy at 10% off -- we actually drove to BestBuy twice because we had gotten 10% off coupons in the mail, which are only valid the 11th to 14th, and we were told the coupons would be good -- we looked at them, and they would have been only 10% off regular price, which was the sale price anyway. So yesterday, at which time we were supposed to have a foot of snow on the ground, we drove in the rain to BestBuy to order a washer, and I got a new CD deck that specifically says it reads CD-Rs and CD-RWs, since the current one is both old and is unable to read some of the CD-Rs that people are sending me. Monday the washer is scheduled to be delivered, and Wednesday the CD player is scheduled. Oh joy.

So this morning after shoveling most of the driveway and front walk in my bathrobe (not WITH my bathrobe), I shoveled a path from the back walk to the bulkhead leading into the basement -- so that the washer can be delivered Monday. I am proud enough of this new path to include a picture of it below. The cats seem to like it, too.

And after my teaching on Tuesday, Beff and I took separate cars to Home Depot to do something about blocking off the crawlspace under the porch where Cammy places himself when the cats go out -- getting him in on Sunday involved me actually crawling into that space and fetching him. So we got six concrete blocks -- I never knew such things were only a buck and a quarter -- and two pieces of plywood that are about the size of the apertures being blocked. We then installed them as best we could: plywood in front, blocks leaning against them. The cats now understand that they can't go there, and come back in more quickly. In the summer, they may be delighted when we unblock the holes.

Upcoming things include Beff's drive to Maine today for her premiere of "Winifred Goes Outside" with the Edith Jones Project in Bangor; she will get to use her new EZ-Pass for the first time, as the Maine Turnpike has converted to that system. Beff is probably excited (and me moreso) that when she drives to Ragdale (north of Chicago), she'll get all the way through Ohio without once stopping at a tollbooth to hand over cash. Cool. Beff gets back tomorrow, with voluminous tales of the two feet of new snow in Bangor (she already confirmed that the concert, unlike most stuff in Bangor, was not cancelled). On Sunday I drive to NYC and back in the same day, in the middle of which I will hear a dress rehearsal of SESSO E VIOLENZA and then the actual performance. It's Merkin Hall, by the way, in case you are in New York on Sunday. Monday marks the date of the delivery of the washer (we also paid an extra $15 to haul the old one away). Tuesday is a possible day for the installation of a new lock assembly on the front door. Wednesday is when the CD player is due. Thursday is faculty meeting day. And Friday is the day we go into Boston to hear Yehudi's new piano concerto with the BSO, at 1:30. Life is complex.

Last Friday Geoffy took us out for seafood, and on Saturday we ordered Domino's pizza to be delivered. Then on Sunday we went briefly to Ken and Hillary's in Cambridge for the pre-Super Bowl party, and we left just as the game was starting. The hors d'oeuvres were very good, as was the salsa. And the snow STILL not removed from many of the Cambridge side streets was nothing less than breathtaking. Which is why it was good that it got into the 50s on four straight days this week. Yes! The bad news, of course, is that Geoffy is now not coming to the area again until May.

In the meantime, I got a suggestion that I should write a piano etude for the left-hand, and I've collected some licks in my brain (which sounds worse if you imagine that literally) to play with, which is what prompted the GLISS IS JUST A GLISS going through my brain (which sounds worse if you imagine that literally). I may try to start one today, I might not. In any case, I am trying to move bedtime and waking time later so that Sunday won't be a problem when I drive back starting around 10 from New York. Eww.

And the new expensive burr coffee grinder arrived. It is nice and quiet, and we have settled on "just a little less than 6" as the correct number to dial for a full French press of coffee. So there, smarty pants.

Today's pictures include two pics taken from the back porch early this morning, proving that we didn't get quite 15-18 inches of snow; Beff snapped me starting the path for the new washer, and I got her (and Cammy) on the porch after I finished the path; the next 3 prove how the cats liked the box the coffee grinder came in (Sunny likes to watch) and what the coffee grinder actually looks like (with pickles and tomatoes ready to become dinner), and finally my washer path (and Cammy). I rule.

FEBRUARY 18 missing

FEBRUARY 25. Breakfast this morning was coffee, some strawberries, and echinacea tea. Dinner last night was a big square frozen pizza that had been cooked. Lunch was, I guess, some bacon, egg and cheese sandwiches in Jonathan Wolfsohn's office in Manhattan (I say "I guess" because it happened at 10 am). Breakfast YESTERDAY was nifty pastries at the Hungarian pastry shop on Amsterdam and 111th. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST WEEK 8.6 and 37.8. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are parking in NYC, $30, dinner at the Abbey Pub with Marilyn $98 including tip, a temperature and humidity gauge with remote station, $53 (we thought Marilyn's was cool), and the cost of having our taxes done (three figures, barely). MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Le Sacre du Printemps. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: We had a "way back" yard when I was growing up (the way the plot got divided, there was a back yard, a whole mess of gardens with raspberries, blueberries, failed corn, etc., followed by another strip of yard ending at a big tree and a place where others had previously dumped stuff and buried it), and we kids used it for little football games and little wiffleball and baseball games -- it was just long enough so occasionally a kid could hit a "home run" if it went beyond the apple and pear trees. I was known as having a hard head (still am), and once while I was saying something, another kid threw me the ball, I didn't see it, and it hit me square in the forehead. I paused a moment and finished my sentence. We laughed so hard we drooled. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 1. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK The Gates are vast, and they help you find the most efficient ways to cut across Central Park. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Am I still cool? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Mongolian Fire Oil (can't find it), Amaro (can't find it), pears, jalapeno stuffed olives, Bubbies Pickles. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK none. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 0. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the unbearable lightness of being, what the cat dragged in, that which was spewed, a full head of steam.

As ye almost eleven know, I take one more pill now than I used to (four prescription, five vitamin/garlic/poopy pills). By tomorrow the full effect is supposed to kick in. I'll letcha know. The doctor -- beside saying he would have practically ordered me to resign the Chairmanship had I not already -- said people close to me would notice a difference, no one else would. So I've been keeping everyone at arm's length except Beff. And Valerie Guy, but that's for later. So far, not much difference except the vivid dreams one of the almost eleven reported in his/her experience with the same pill have happened on occasion. I dreamed music that was supposed to soothe lions in case you meet them while hiking in the woods -- the tune goes G up a major sixth to E and down a halfstep to E-flat while the chords go C major to E-flat7 in third inversion; then it sequences down by half step. I will use this progression, probably ironically, in a future piece. For the "Lions" movement (followed by the Tigers and Bears movements -- hey, Columbia, Princeton and Brown!).

But enough about me. Here's more about me. Brandeis is on vacation this week, so I had the time to finish the left hand etude (which I reported last week is called "Ain't Got No Right" -- gotta pat myself on the back for that one at every opportunity), and then did the busy work of entering it in my List of Comps on this site, and on the List I use for my CV on the computer. And then I sent copies to the usual suspects (I always get a thorough analysis from Geoffy, which is why I let him drink my water when he stays here). Corey Hamm, for whom it was written, says he will premiere it in Minnesota on May 6. I presume he'll take it on the road (sulla via) from there. In the meantime, Geoff reported that his premiere of Zeccatella in Pittsboigh went well, and he reported a distinguished crowd to witness his recital. I look forward to getting the recording, since my damn computer plays it the same way every time. Actually, that's not quite true -- Finale 2004 on Windows, if I use one of the "human playback" settings chokes on the piece, and randomly distributes some of the notes in clusters of events on occasion. The excitement of live performance (assuming the players are not competent) is back!

On Saturday Beff and I drove into Groton, which is one of our recreational things to do when it's sunny and we're a little stir crazy. Groton has a Main Street of all white clapboard houses (must be a town ordinance) and three (now four) places we like to frequent. There's a nice health food store that sells Bubbies Pickles -- I got three jars -- where I also got some garlic pills. Sometimes we get some staples at Donelan's Market (not this time). We always get something unusual and exotic at the beer and wine store there. And we discovered a cafe restaurant where we got some lovely healthy sandwiches -- Beff got the Bagel with capers and other stuff, I think I got a chicken pesto roll-up (which dripped a lot, in a nice way). Predictably, this was the sort of place that plays the same sort of Gipsy Kings stuff on the stereo that similar such places tend to play.

Which leads me to an incredibly boring sidebar. When I was the Djerassi Foundation in March 1991 was when the Gipsy Kings were first making it big (sort of on a parallel with pesto, Starbucks, and stoneground bread, all of which seem to have been made for each other). One of the writers there was infatuated with them (as it was not yet possible to go to a lot of Starbucks or get pesto or stoneground bread), and he played them at dinner time every night. Strangely, hearing Gipsy Kings at the stoneground places doesn't bring back those Djerassi dinners -- but it does occasionally make me dizzy from the number of times I feel it necessary to roll my eyes.

Sidebar over. We got Belgian style wheat beers in Groton, which were good. Then we drove home.

I think we had more snow in the middle of the week, which was a pain -- the storm on Monday and Tuesday lingered such that I had to shovel two inches Monday and three inches Tuesday morning, all of that while Beff was in Maine doing admissions (her colleagues sent sage advice: "don't let the bastards get you down" -- I think "astar" actually was replaced with five asterisks in the way Beff said it). For the sake of completeness, we got three inches overnight, which is nearly all shoveled now (Beff is outside doing the bottom part of the driveway as I type this).

Midweek was our big trip to New York. I, of course, did all the driving, and Beff did all the iPod programming (Alanis, Prince ...). The purpose of the trip was to see Jonathan, our accountant, in Manhattan on Thursday morning. But there were side benefits. I had already reserved Marilyn Nonken's couch for us for Wednesday night, and on Wednesday afternoon, Augustus Arnone came to be coached by Marilyn on his upcoming recital -- which includes a bunch of Davytudes. So we met for the first time, and I got to play composer guy (which is what I am in real life, anyway) while he played through Zipper Tango, Cell Division, and Eight Misbehavin'. Of course, I thought it was marvelous -- hey, I was hearing Cell Division for the first time, and I was like, how soon can we take this on the road? But to be composer guy, I had a few very basic things to say, but then I was able to sit back while Marilyn got real particular with piano playing technique kind of stuff that this trombone boy never thinks about. Which voice do you emphasize when playing slow octaves? How the heck should I know? How do you describe how grace notes should be played in a tango? Dunno. How do you de-emphasize a line that's emphasized in the writing anyway? Uh.... But it was all cool, and afterwards Beff and I and Marilyn went to the Abbey Pub, as is our want, for dinner. Then we walked back and slept on the couch. While Marilyn and I were getting on Augustus's case, Beff went to the Cooper-Hewitt Museum. Before that, we had eaten Chinese at Pearl's on Amsterdam and 99th (good), and walked across Central Park at 96th, encountering a portion of the big Christo thing. I got to see them in two separate paths, as we walked all the way to Park Ave and I walked back a little farther north -- and in the right light they are impressive, but they also look like construction signs. The best thing about them was that they provided a visual clue as to which was going to be the most direct path to the other side of the park.

Thursday morning we went first to M2M, a market on Broadway, to look for Mongolian Fire Oil -- I haven't been able to find it around here -- and we got two containers of something that looks similar. Hey, I like it in my stir fry and hot & sour soup, okay? Then we did the Hungarian Pastry shop -- it's a miracle it's still there -- and I retrieved messages and found that Jonathan's office wanted us to show up a half hour early. So we did -- his Manhattan office is on Seventh Ave and 29th -- he ordered out for us, and we bore down on the taxes. Good old Stoeger Prize puts a major wrench in the works, of course -- instead of giant refunds, the first run through the taxes had us owing Uncle Sam and Maine, getting a little back from Massachusetts. More massaging must be done with the numbers. He actually told us to call him back around midnight on Monday for an update. Vot a guy.

After finishing our appointment, we took the subway up to 66th to -- get this -- look at our own composer bins at Tower Records (the fact that we took pictures that you can see below makes us even dweebier -- "like Googling yourself", as someone put it). Beff was also looking for the new Adam Guettel on CD, which seems not yet to exist. Then we called up our friend Valerie Guy at the Chamber Music Society, she happened to be in her office, and we hung out for a while, having a great time. After that, we zipped up to 112th Street to get the car, and made the drive home. There was some urgency, as everyone in New York was talking about a six inch snowstorm on the way that would begin in the afternoon -- we made it! We spoke to Sooooozie from the car, but of course at the Connecticut line we got cut off by lack of service.

When we got home there was the business of taking care of the cats -- as before, we'd left two kinds of dry food out and one bowl was empty while the other was not touched -- and getting sushi for the next day's lunch. Suddenly we brought up the cool humidity/temp thing that Marilyn had for her piano (she got it at Brookstone), so I hopped over to Radio Shack. All they had with the humidity thing was the deluxe model with a remote one for outside, so we set it up with a station by the Klavinova and the main station on the piano downstairs. I resisted the urge to put a picture below. Our humidity is 34 percent downstairs, 31 percent upstairs. At the moment.

Which reminds me. Today our piano gets its yearly tuning. Hopefully Steve Chrzan (the tuner) will be able to get the keys to stop sticking so I don't have to punch the piano any more. My knuckle actually still hurts, two weeks later. Hence the pills.

And then we got home. Other things to report this week are writing the program notes for the Rivers School festival upcoming, finding out that someone in the midwest is writing about the Rakowski etudes for her thesis, and finding out from Marilyn that Brad Gowen -- who wrote about Trillage in Piano & Keyboard Magazine in 1996, prompting 120 copies to be sold -- digs my etudes but thought there were like eight of them. Must follow up. Yaddo put streaming audio of etude #41 on their site, see link above. Other stuff chugs along.

This week's pictures begin with four of The Gates as Davy experienced them. Followed by our bins at Tower Records, the temp and precipitation of the last month as reported in The Globe today (the fifth biggest snowstorm of all time is already pushed out), and a cup that Beff got at the Cooper-Hewitt museum (you can probably not tell in the picture that it is a ceramic cup, but it is).

MARCH 4. Breakfast this morning was coffee, some blueberries, some blackberries, and a Hebrew National Pickle in a Pouch (Beff out of town, dontcha know). Dinner was a frozen pizza heated up. Lunch was a chicken pesto sammich from Shapiro with some leftover Fruit2O that was in the Chairman's Fridge. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST WEEK 6.6 and 37.9 (spring, where the hell are you?). LARGE EXPENSES this last week is the other half of the expense for two new storm windows and the new lock/knob combo on the front door. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Whatever that thing is called that Pee-Wee dances to in big shoes in Pee Wee's Big Adventure. Tequila? POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Our eighth grade basketball coach, Mr. Pequignot ("Mr. P" to the kids) had a college roommate named John Rakowski, whom they called "Rake." Guess what his nickname for me was? When I got into high school he was hired at the high school and became my freshman basketball coach. Guess what my nickname was then? Guess how quickly I quit basketball and did drama instead? Incidentally, somebody from my own team stole my special $13 green sneakers from my locker. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 7(!). DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Lots of people like to use the term "black box." THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Am I still cool? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: jalapeno stuffed olives, sugar free popsicles (even in this cold weather), limeade. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK none. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 3. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE correctness, aptitude, discarded copies of Yertle the Turtle, a dead bug.

As I type this -- Friday morning -- new storm windows have been installed in the window seat windows downstairs, a new lock/doorknob combo has been installed on the front door, and a new handle for the storm door in front is being installed and a piston being added. I am so special! Naturally, Cammy has been hiding under the sofa for about two and a half hours, and I have no idea where Sunny is. I sat in one of the window seats with the storm window and -- it felt suspiciously WARM. This is what happens where there is a screen AND glass between you and the outside, not just a screen. I think I'll start telling myself that "I am saving money in the long run."

Beff, meanwhile, is in Lake Forest, Illinois in the CENTRAL TIME ZONE at Ragdale. And she was crazy enough to drive there from here, which, given the current weather pattern (trough over the Great Lakes and Northeast turning on the lake effect snow machine), was a day and a half ordeal. There will be a sidebar once I've started my story, so I'm a-warning you NOW. Beff left for Ragdale on Wednesday morning, and she had to be there by 4:30 Central Time yesterday. So she got up at 5, and I, miraculously, was still sleepy. So I stayed in-a-bed for another 35 minutes.

SIDEBAR: and during those 35 minutes I had another vivid musical dream, albeit a fairly boring one. I dreamed a showy piano introduction in minor utilizing most of the keyboard and going up and then down, followed by the beginning of what I think I understood was a Chopin mazurka in the relative major of the introduction. There was a full accompaniment, and a tune that alternated scale degree 5 and scale degree flat-6 a lot. And I when I awoke, I realized that the accompaniment figure was more habanera than it was mazurka. But they BOTH end with a.

Meanwhile, I got up, Beff filled two travel mugs with coffee and carried a buttload of stuff to her car (it was 6 degrees out), and for once left before I did (I left for Brandeis at 6:15). Both Wednesday and Thursday were long days at Brandeis, and on Wednesday I got back at about 6:30 and listened to a message on the answering machine from Beff stamped at 5:27: "I'm in Erie, Pennsylvania and the lake effect snow has been incredible. They closed the interstate and I'm following some trucks who seem to know how to get around it. I'm leaving my cell phone on." So I called her. By the time I caught up with her, she had driven through Erie and gotten past the closed part of the interstate, and was back on her way. Later she called from WILLOUGHBY OHIO, a suburb just to the east of Cleveland. While she talked, I looked it up on Streets and Trips 2004, and just as I encountered "Travelodge" and "Bob Evans Restaurant" in the detail, she told me she was staying at the Travelodge and was walking to the Bob Evans restaurant for dinner. Ah, computers. She also asked me to ask the program how long the drive to Lake Forest from there was, and it answered 7 hours and 40 minutes. Yesterday in my office at 1:30 I got a call from Beff, and she was walking around downtown Lake Forest, if such a thing exists.

Nonetheless. Them What Make did pretty well with the last Nor'easter. The newspapers, of course, covered the local winter weariness (the Globe showed a graphic of how much snow we've had this season in Boston -- 78 inches (8th highest ever, so far) and compared it to David Ortiz (76 inches). Cute), and I note that the temps have been about 10 degrees below normal for the last two weeks. I hate it when that happens. The Nor'easter passed through without much fanfare on Monday night, but did leave nearly a foot here (our forecast was for 8-12 inches), which caused me to cancel my Tuesday teaching -- as it took Beff 'n' me until 11 am to clear the sidewalks and driveway (including my FOURTH use of the snowblower this season). What's more, we got another inch during the day and another half inch Tuesday night (trough over the Great Lakes and Northeast, dontcha know). Beffnme took advantage of the snow day by walking to the Quarterdeck seafood restaurant, being waited on by the actual cook, and having a nice lunch with beers. I had the clam roll, and Beff didn't.

Meanwhile, Them What Make say another storm's a-comin' this Monday night. Oh lawdy.

One of the largest sources of stress shrunk considerably yesterday, as the Dean withdrew his proposals and sat there at a special faculty meeting to be scolded by the faculty. A computer science professor delivered a masterful speech, and everyone went home.

Then there was Allen Anderson's colloquium back in the music department yesterday. I was late because of the faculty meeting, but did get to hear part of a sax quartet and all of a piano trio. Allen has changed! More propulsive and dynamic, and still that lovely sense of when to start a new tune. And part of his piano trio was (gasp) perpetual motion. I kept the CD, since it's cool. There were WHEAT BEERS at the reception.

New York New Music Ensemble is rehearsing at Brandeis this weekend for tomorrow night's grad composers concert -- there will be an expensive reception because the Grad Student Association is paying for it to make a point about what would be lost under the Dean's proposals. It was nice to see old friends in a new but strange context -- Linda Quan, Chris Finckel, Jean Kopperud, Don Palma, Jayn Rosenfeld -- and I reminisced (briefly if nerdily) with Linda and Chris about when they were in the Atlantic Quartet, all of whom stayed at our place on Berrien Court in Princeton the night after they played a concert there. Insufferable we are, yes (that's me doing the prose style of the beginning of CITIZEN KANE, which Beff watched a few nights ago).

Last night when I got home, the application packets from the Atlantic Center were a-waitin' for me on the back porch in a FedEx box. I presume the contents of same are confidential, but it turns out it'll be more work than I thought. There are more applications than there are available slots. So I have to pay attention, really look at the applications. And continue to wonder why I asked everybody to list their five favorite pieces. Was I a-smokin' something?

Ken Ueno sent an e-mail letting me know about Gizoogle, a website that makes webpages talk sort of like Snoop Dogg. For an example of the hilarious results, click on "Gizoogle this page" to the left.

A large part of Sunday was spent compiling my Activities Report for 2004-5, something we tenured and tenure-track faculty have to do every year, as it's part of how they determine who gets merit raises and who doesn't. Mine came to 17 pages, some of it because I quote in full every review I've gotten everywhere, and every performance I know about in the report. And when I compile these things I realize -- geesh, I've got a buttload of dissertation advisees! And new pieces -- 7 etudes, Sex Songs, Sibling Revelry, Four Rivers and Rule of Three. Gawrsh. Since last March 1, that is.

As I typed this, Sunny showed himself to sit in the sun here in the computer room. Now I know where he is.

The window and door guys are now gone. The storm door has a piston and needs weather stripping. So there. Yes, Beff, they did measure the basement windows and the other storm windows upstairs.

The pictures today are at last partly for Beff's benefit, as she's in that other time zone and stuff like that. So the new stuff just installed figures prominently below, but first, cats. There is Cammy at play under the bed, and hiding from workmen under the couch. We have both sides of the new door assembly, evidence of the FIRST TIME THE LEFT WINDOW SEAT WINDOW HAS BEEN OPENED IN FIVE YEARS, a detail of the new vinyl storm window, the early part of the door process, and the strange curvy icicles outside the bedroom window from early in the week.

MARCH 11. Breakfast this morning was coffee (Beff still out of town, dontcha know). Dinner was crackers with lowfat peanut butter and a tomato. Lunch was Chunky Chicken soup. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST WEEK 6.3 and 50.5 -- wacky, huh?). LARGE EXPENSES this last week are none. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Prince's "Willing and Able" from the Diamonds and Pearls album. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Beff and I took a train trip to Princeton -- before we were going out -- to celebrate (and revel in?) our job offers (Stanford and Reed College). On the way down I commented on the antimacassar on the seat in front of me and mused as to why they bothered. Beff said, "it lets the people be able to not clean them." I wrote that down in my calendar. We stayed with Martler, as I recall, and during this time he and I "invented" the nonsense joke genre. Examples: What do dogs have that cats don't? Credit cards. What's the difference between a pizza with the works and the Queen of England? Pepperoni on the Queen costs extra. We made ourselve sick with laughter until we realized that nobody else would think the jokes were funny. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 1. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Everybody else has winter fatigue, too. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Why does Cammy sniff Sunny's butt so much? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: limeade, Bartlett pears. NUMBER OF FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS IN THE PREVIOUS WEEK none. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 0. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a bug's life, a shark tale, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty.

Stupid, stupid weather continues to be everyone's obsession here. We have a winter storm warning for tonight and tomorrow (again), and a freak windy storm passed through here on Tuesday night. During the day it got up to 50 and I drove home in the rain. Then the rain changed to snow and the wind kicked up to, occasionally, over 60 mph. I actually got up twice -- once to see if shovels had blown away downstairs and once to see if the window in the attic was still in place (hey, I'm obsessive sometimes). So of course I knew I would have to shovel before leaving my place at 6:30 am, so the alarm was set for 5:15. Dreading getting up and doing something hard kept me awake. And when I woke up, the new snow piled up very unevenly, anywhere from a foot to an inch. After an hour of shoveling, in two shifts, I made it to work and did my teaching (dadburn Brandeis didn't cancel anything), and stayed there until (shudder) 4. I still feel burning in my lungs (vestiges of childhood asthma), and hey, we'll do it all over again tomorrow. So you see, we are all bummed about the weather. Dadburned upper level low over Quebec. Oh yes, there was thunder on Tuesday night, and near-record low barometric pressure. Wouldn't that bum you out, too?

Getting home while it was still raining on Tuesday, I noted that water was seeping in to one of the new storm windows. Window guys have to come back and do a little sealing. Meanwhile, though, it has been nearly surreal using the front door as a normal door to get the mail and the newspaper. I mean, really. No, really.

Since those paragraphs were typed, I went into Brandeis for Seungah's dissertation defense, which was successful. John McDonald, from Tufts, had some nice questions and led the session quite well, and afterwards we went to the Tree Top restaurant, which was pretty cheap considering. So, Doctor Oh, sounding a lot like Doctorow, is now one of our products. This was the only dissertation I've advised that said anything about Circadian rhythms -- so we also talked about Arcadian rhythms in Maine, Cicadian rhythms every 19 years, etc. When I got back The Maids had just pulled into the driveway, so I went to the Sit 'n' Bull for 45 minutes while they cleaned, and watched parts of some godawful yet strangely seductive soap operas. I took a picture of my Buffalo wings with my cell phone camera and sent it to Corinne. She probably will think it's spam.

On Saturday night was an excellent grad composers concert, probably the best such concert I ever went to -- and I've been doing this since 1989, after all. The New York New Music Ensemble were the main event, and every single piece had value and merit, and some even showed signs of a compositional voice. Gasp! It was the rare occasion when I didn't have to avoid any composer whose piece I hated, since I liked them all.

And here's something odd -- I spent most of Saturday and Sunday writing music. I don't foresee that happening again for some time.

It has been snowing for about an hour as I type this, and there is accumulation only on some of the pine branches so far. That should change by tomorrow. I am supposed to be at Brandeis from 9 to 4 tomorrow for yet another one of those gonzo retreat things where everyone shares their feelings and then someone with a clipboard writes it all down and e-mails us. Think of Saturday as the day of much self-expression by banal platitude. With any luck the roads won't be conducive to this event, though, and I can stay at home and fall asleep, finally. Nonetheless.

Googling myself paid off again, and allowed me to add two performances to the performances page. Dear almost eleven, can YOU find what is new?

Meanwhile, Earthlink got itself in a little hot water with a lot of customers, it would seem, when I was billed for this DSL/Home Networking service at the usual rate, but the amount was more than twice the usual. In the detail, the "USF recovery fee" -- described on the Earthlink page as state and local taxes on internet use, and which said the Massachusetts amount never exceeds 97 cents -- was billed at $73.56. It is usually 67 cents. A call to Earthlink provided no relief on Sunday except "we have a team looking at it, could you please call back Thursday." So I did, and the "on hold" message was "Earthlink customers billed excessively for USF recovery fee, we know about it, and you will receive refunds." And it DID happen. But boy, I hate having to be the squeaky wheel. I would love to see what programming algorithm led to this revoltin' situation.

Meanwhile. The kitties are still freaked about The Maids having swept through, and even Sunny was cowering under the couch. He has just entered the computer room as I type this, and there is no sun for him to sit in (see "it's been snowing for about an hour"). So he's just doing generic cat things -- a generic purr, a generic silent meow, a generic pawing at me to pay attention.

We listened to and analyzed "Nuages" in orchestration this week, and there were some pretty good insights -- in fact, some of them helped with the larger point of "is F or F# the stable harmonizing tone for B?" Other stuff about orchestration was pretty good -- we decided that the orchestration alone made the recapitulation just before the B section not a concluding sort of recap, just a reference. We talk funny at Brandeis (because of all the stuff we put in our mouths, I guess). Meanwhile, the other teaching was as it was.

While Beff has been gone I have gone to no great lengths to make complex meals for myself, as I do when we are both here. This means that I finally used up all the microwave meals that have been taking up space in the freezer, due to our having had coupons for them, are gone, and there is luxuriant space in the freezer for future stuff. Like popsicles. Turkey medallions seems to have been a favorite microwave choice back whenever we got these things.

On the serious side -- the Rivers School symposium is upcoming, and I will be going to plenty of those events. I had to deal with W-9 and other such stuff for the "daylong celebration of creativity" at UMass Dartmouth on April 15, and even come up with an abstract for my talk -- I had no idea how to relate it to "creativity" without showing the unbearable pretentiousness of being, so I winged it. I think I said something generic about it being both musical and visual. It doesn't really matter. I doubt I'll get a question from the audience asking why my 45-minute spiel wasn't closer to the abstract.

Meanwhile, I was also two panels this week. Nuff said.

I am leaving Claire Colburn's Winnie and Lion Drawings on the page for this weekend. It has been very dreary weatherwise -- 15 degrees below normal except for that brief period where the temps went way up -- so I have nary a new photo to display. But display I will anyways. We have Sunny outside this morning, Cammy inside yesterday, the backyard covered with pine droppings afer the big wind, and our display of a ruby slippers doorstop in the living room -- we are probably the only straight people who own this particular doorstop.

MARCH 25. Breakfast this morning was toasted English muffins with lowfat peanut butter, green tea with peach, orange juice, and coffee. Last night's dinner was chicken sandwiches, chicken marinated in Emeril's rosemary and gaaahlic, and salad. Lunch was Trader Joe's gazpacho with pepper and hot sauce added. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST WEEK 21.7 and 52.7. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are the other half of the work done on the door and the new storm windows, $333.50. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "More Than Words," an early '90s acoustic guitar tune by "Xtreme" which we heard recently in the Boston Bean House in Maynard. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: One day when we were at Tanglewood (1982), Ross, Nami, Martler and I decided to drive up to the last concert of the Johnson Composers Conference (now in Wellesley) to hear stuff and generally suck up. We started by going to St. Albans, met my grandmother (who was still alive at the time), and ate at Warner's Snack Bar (where I had worked for a summer six years earlier). We ate outside at picnic tables, where seagulls tended to lurk, waiting for handouts. At our urging, Ross picked off a piece of his roll and tossed it towards the gulls, and that motion coincided with the landing of a big blob of bird poop right on his arm. Laughter ensued. Ross cleaned himself off in what passed for facilities. At the concert, Mygatt and Winslow were played, and the last piece EVER played at the Johnson version of this concert with the Musical Joke -- in the curtain call, Don Palma carried out a violin and Linda Quan carried out a double bass -- great sight gag. On the drive back on 91 south, Nami was driving. Ross looked at the speedometer reading 75 and said, "Come on Nami, step on it!" RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 0. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK I like olive antipasto. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: What is the significance that the root of "analysis" is "anal"? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: olive antipasto, olives, dill relish, Tazo teas (on special at Shaws). BIRDS HEARD OR SEEN THIS WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE pileated woodpecker (heard), Canadian geese in flight (heard), chimney swifts (seen and heard, WAAAY up there). FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS WEEK 1 (the glass part of a picture frame holding a piece of art by Tama Hochbaum). FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 7. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE an Italian word, a dictionary, an icicle, four pairs of gloves.

I had been told by one of the almost eleven that vivid dreams came with fluoxetine hydrochloride, but I hadn't been sleeping deeply enough to get to that point for a while. On Thursday morning, though, I played timpani and an electric guitar (I think) in a mondo improvised performance inside what seemed like the gymnasium of my high school. I must say, the electric guitar chords were perky. The sound of the electric guitar was a little bit like that in a Crowded House song whose name I forget.

This morning our awakening was facilitated by the sound of something falling in the house, and I thought the cats might have knocked a little piece of decoration over again, but it was actually a frame containing a picture that Tama Hochbaum did for us years ago that we keep on a wicker table by the window in the dining room. The frame shattered, I swept a bit, and Beff put it back together without the glass in it. So the cats can continue to knock it over with impunity.

There was a long, long stretch of sunny, just barely springlike weather for us to enjoy in the earlier part of the week, and for all the week before, and enjoy it we did last weekend. As predicted in this space, we took Saturday morning to drive to Groton, via Route 2A with a short stop at Strawberries (I think Beff got ideas for things to buy on amazon for less money -- but she did get the Thomas Crown Affair DVD, a "silly movie, but fun"). I got more Bubbies Pickles at the health food store in Groton, we got some coffee beans at Donelans, some hip wheat beer at the beer store, and had another healthy sandwich at the coffee shop thingie. Beff is now collecting video for a new project for Sooozie, and the text she intends to use has references to coffee, mist, and fish -- so we planned our route for her to get video of that kind of stuff. She got a shot of the outside of that coffee shop AND the outside and inside of the Boston Bean House in Maynard (where we returned for more shots on Monday), and when we returned to Maynard, she filmed the fish on display at the fish market portion of the Quarterdeck. We have a lovely movie of a pan of some fish in crushed ice with a voice-over said to the people who work there: "Just filmin' the fish."

Upon our return, we noticed that the sun had heated up the porch so that it was human-habitable, so we opened it up, cleaned it (well, BEFF cleaned it), and spent some quality time sittin' and relaxin'. The cats also enjoyed it immensely, and it was the initiation of spring fever for both of us. Napping on the futon was strangely satisfying despite the traffic sounds. Then I made chicken sandwiches, and all was well. Boy, that Emerils marinade is good stuff.

On Sunday we both had pancakes for breakfast -- my first in a while -- and repaired out to the porch yet again to recapture our spring fever, at which time I started taking pictures. Being documentary guy, I do that. Shortly, in order to make the porch even more hospitable, I moved the Adirondack chairs -- which we store on the porch in the winter -- out into the back yard. This is more of a chore than it sounds like because of the awkward angles I have to carry the chairs at to get them through the narrow door that doesn't open all the way. Not to mention, the yard was only about 15% bare, so there was the carrying them through the snow thing goin' on, too. I insisted that Beff document the first Adirondack chair-sitting of the season, which, dear almost eleven, you will find below. Once the chairs were cleared out of the porch, that left just the hammock net and the bigass Stoeger Prize check, and the cats went wild. Later in the day, it clouded up and Them What Make said we'd get rain, or 3-4 inches of snow. And we got neither.

The porch is also being used to store a few things that we eventually have to take to Maynard first-Saturday-of-the-month trash day. There's the TV that gives us green pictures for the first 20 minutes it ison, plus a monitor for the Windows computer that simply stopped working late last fall. We were also planning on getting rid of the old piano bench -- one of the legs collapsed in one of Ken Ueno's particularly fat moments during a late night limoncello and I'd managed to cobble it back together, but then Sara at Brandeis asked me what I could do with an extra piano bench and I said "make it mine" -- but that would have been $10 worth of Maynard trash stickers, which is way too much. So I disassembled the sucker, threw away a bunch of screws and hinges, and we burned it. The particle board part of it burned very hot, in case you were playing along at home, but the rest burned fairly slowly. The metal bracing brackets for the legs were the only part left, um, standing. So, cool. Or, hot. I took a picture of the bench burning, but did not include it in this space.

Monday was a vacation day for NEC, so I didn't have to get up. So we didn't. We did more beezness, and, as intimated above, went to the Bean House (which is really a fancy coffee shop) and CVS, and Beff got more video. I enjoyed watching the videos on her laptop. And then we discovered the movie section of and laughed and laughed and laughed at the one called "Cat Hypnotism." And I showed it to everyone at Brandeis, whose days were therefore made.

While Beff was in Maine -- she left Monday afternoon, got back Wednesday night -- my teaching at Brandeis was exemplary, as was my interviewing of prospective students (I resisted the urge to snarl, pull out phlegm from my eyes and yell "Why Brandeis, mo'fo?"). On Wednesday night I went to the Rivers School to hear four groups/individuals run through the pieces of mine being done on their Contemporary Music for the Young symposium next weekend. I rediscovered "Firecat," which the players like more than I do, and have heard the string quartet version of "Elegy" now for the first time in 23 years. The group doing the commissioned piece was very, very good, and my piece even has cool stuff in it. The clarinetist -- who has a nice sound -- said I had written "quite a piece," which is always a fun expression because it can mean nearly anything (usually used in my corner of the biz to be polite to a composer whose piece you hated). I met, for the first time, Ethel Farny, who coaches that group and who has been in e-mail contact with me for six months. I only bring this up because both of her names have five letters.

On Monday I witnessed the first crocuses of the season in the back yard. They had just popped out, despite the fact that there was still much snow around them, and hadn't opened yet. On Tuesday it was sunny and they were in full bloom -- spring fever! I took pictures, as I do every year. This time I even have them contextualized against a virtual sea of snow viewed in the near distance.

So Thursday morning was YASS! Yet Another Snowstorm. About 3 or 4 inches of very slushy and heavy snow overnight, and everybody is sick of it, of course. I had told Shawna at Brandeis that when I put out the Adirondack chairs that means one more snowstorm and we're done, so this was it -- or so I told myself. I took the yearly shot of snow on the chairs (one is on Beff's webpage from about 4 years ago) after doing the big shovel -- complicated by the fact that the garbage and recycling were also in the driveway. Because it was garbage and recycling day. The walk was sufficiently shoveled that there wasn't any drool or snot on our mail. The snow had high enough water content that a large portion of the yards that were bare on Wednesday are bare again, just wetter and muddier.

Also on the weekend we shopped for a frame for one of Claire Colburn's pictures -- we scanned it and blew up just the Winnie drawing and printed it blow up. Currently, it is resting on the computer table in the dining room, which hasn't held a computer since we got the cats, except for a day or so at a time. We are looking for a more suitable place for Claire's picture, especially given that it has a glass frame. The frame was purchased at the camera shop that shares a door with the Bank of America, and is always deserted. We must have made their day.

With the spring 2006 leave approved, I am now in the process of planning a colony hop, and Beff and I decided we'd like to try to do VCCA together over Christmas 2005-6 (we last did that in 1996-7 while I was writing Attitude Problem and Martler and she was learning how to do full-resolution computer tape pieces), and we discovered that the application is due earlier than we thought. Wow, my first applications in more than two years. I hope I remember how. I will also be trying Yaddo and MacDowell and possibly Ragdale and possibly even Bogliasco. So much stuff, so little time! And while I'm gone I guess Beff will be taking care of the cats in the Maine house -- which will be weird and surreal for them. Anyone who wants to housesit in Maynard ca. Dec. 23 - Jan. 16, make yourself known.

I also got an official invitation for the Yaddo benefit on May 3 which Rick Moody had set up for us. Me 'n' Beff will go as ourselves, and this benefit has a musical theme. In fact, the invitation says that excerpts from the "Yaddo jukebox" will include me, Paul Moravec, Stewart Wallace, and Carolyn Yarnell. Which is cool, because I haven't met half those people and wish to do so. The MC will be Peter Schickele, and it will be weird being introduced by PDQ Bach, in order to introduce Adam Marks playing a piano with his fists. Everyone else will look so refined compared to me, and that will be sweet irony. I only said that because I've never typed that phrase before in my life. I hope I don't get all dweeby and tell Schickele that I've been listening to PDQ Bach since 1974.

And today is Good Friday. Gut Freitag. Bonne vendredi. Buon venerdi. Even Brandeis gets the day off. But Passover isn't for another month yet. Funny that. Four more weeks of classes and we are done. So we plan on being really cool people today. Which means it's just another day.

Today's pictures include Claire's drawing in a frame, Cammy doing a funny expression while wanting to come inside, Beff and Sunny experiencing spring fever on the porch, the ritual first sitting in the Adirondack chair, crocuses on Wednesday, crocuses on Thursday, and this year's ritual shot of Adirondack chairs covered in snow.

APRIL FOOLS DAY. Breakfast this morning was coffee and orange juice. Dinner was soup for Beff and a Trader Joe's pizza for me. Lunch had been tomato sandwiches for both of us. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST WEEK 22.3 and 60.4. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are half of the quote for two new storm windows and two new basement windows fully installed, $512. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "I Love the Night Life" -- thanks to something Beff said as we were airportward. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I've written in several places about the premiere of my first piece ever, for my high school band, where I mention that all of the third clarinetists were drunk (June 1, 1975) -- some of whom had never played the piece and were sightreading. I don't exactly come out sparkling in this story, either, since I had perfectly good conducting patterns, yet still felt the need to mouth, very prominently, "ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR" every once in a while as I gave cues. There was a bunch of skittery percussion at the beginning with very hard rhythms, and of course none of the percussionists was close to what I wrote -- except Verne Colburn, who sat in and played the woodblock part con fuoco. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 0. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Hammocking is fun. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Where is the outrage? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Bartlett pears, blackberries, tomatoes, hamburger dill pickles. BIRDS HEARD OR SEEN THIS WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE robin (heard, briefly), song sparrow (heard briefly by the river), Downy woodpecker (heard). FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS WEEK 0. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 4. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE lactation, direct-to-video, hummingbird feces, a can of spray paint.

As this is being typed, Beff is in the air -- not that she's got such great hang time. She's on her way to San Jose, Costa Rica (do you know the way?) where she will be until the 30th. Her plane was scheduled to leave at 7:30, stop in Miami an hour and a half, and continue right on. So that meant getting her to the airport by 5:30 (American, Terminal B), leaving here by 4:45 to do so, and waking up at 4:00 in order to have enough time to shower, get dressed, and have some decent neckwards gear. It's amazing how alert and active the cats are no matter what time we get up, and they certainly helped keep our attention on our task. I carried Beff's suitcase with a month's worth of STUFF down the stairs and probably nearly collapsed them. I presume she's paying extra for overweight -- what with a hard drive in there and vitamins and books and stuff. So we did leave at 4:45, the roads were a little wet from some overnight sprinkles, and we got there almost exactly at 5:30, where lots of other people had had the same idea. I will, of course, miss her much, and will have to get used to waiting by the answering machine as the caller ID says "out of area" and waiting to see if there's a message, and if it's her leaving it.

On the many flip sides (we live in a multidimensional universe, dontcha know), we had a nice weekend. There has been enough sun to open the porch at a reasonable time, and naps or reading on the porch has been very therapeutic. I have also done therapeutic weeding and gardening in the way back yard, mostly cutting vines and pathetic pieces of forsythia as a way of keeping that area from getting too overgrown, and of course I have marveled at the comeback abilities of the crocuses after the midweek snow of ten days ago. There are more crocuses than ever. And since the weather was so fine, fine, fine on the weekend, we nearly finished the springification of the yard and storage shed. We put up the hammock and I oiled the joints where there was a bit of rust -- the ropes of the hammock were getting a bit green, so Beff sprayed Fantastik on it, too. We took out the picnic table, which looks like wood but is really some sort of resilient plastic or vinyl, along with the four chairs. I also filled in the hole above which it usually sits with expensive topsoil. Yes, I even got fingernail-dirty on the weekend.

So we also took out our regular bikes, I oiled the chains, and I put the wheelbarrow back into its usual on-the-side position by the former and abandoned garden plot by the pines. This involved actually lifting the wheelbarrow up very high and tossing it over the fence. I was a very strong boy to do that. In order to get the bike chains completely lubricated, I had to, of course, ride them in circles in the driveway in every possible gear, and I left some deep ruts in the mud that are still evident in the back yard. Beff tried to smooth them out with her shoes, which led to an episode of spraying her shoes with the hose.

And the rhubarb has just started to emerge, as well -- pictorial evidence below. Some of the hardier grasses are greening up, but maybe about 5% of the back and 50% of the side yards are still snow-covered. Bummer. Nonetheless. We have resumed our 2-mile circular walks that go over the Assabet bridge near the boat landing, and the trail between the bridge and the dumping area is still icy or muddy. More hosing of boots.

The big weather event of the week was a large and long-lasting rainstorm on Monday and Tuesday that combined with snowmelt to make much, much flooding in the area -- the Weather Bug on this computer was going full time as Flood Watches and Warnings kept being confirmed, including our own Assabet, in flood stage from Tuesday to Thursday this week. The pics below, from our Thursday jaunt, show a little of that. What's more, another superstorm of 2-4 inches of rain is predicted beginning tomorrow, so there will be yet more. With this next storm, possibly some of my drive to work will be under a little water, as it was in 2001. We did get some water in the basement, and it would have been sucked out by the sump pump except that the furnace maintenance guys in December seemed to unplug it in order to use their own stuff. It was very satisfying to plug the sucker (literally) in, and hear that giant sucking sound. Okay, that little sucking sound.

At Brandeis this week, there were two important meetings with which I was involved. One was a disaster, one was a resounding success. The new music curriculum is tentatively in place, and we have two new courses for next spring. Faculty are beginning to submit their yearly Activities Reports, and so far mine is the longest (I do my best). And the countdown to nonchairmanship has reached three months exactly -- three quarters of the way there! The Dean has already started to poll the faculty on who should be the next victim.

Beff and I also put together our VCCA applications so that we can both go there during her Christmas vacation (at which time I start being on leave). Anyone out there who wants a nice place for Dec 23- Jan 16 and doesn't mind shoveling and using a snowblower (if appropriate) are invited to make him/herself known. I also applied, for the first time, to the Liguria Center in Bogliasco, which is in Italy. Weird application -- composers don't send scores, just a recording, and no more than 20 minutes of music. The application also instructs the applicant on what to put on a resume -- which leads me to believe they don't get that many quality applications. By mid-summer, I will do Yaddo and MacDowell applications. The cool thing about the prospect of me being away (instead of Beff) and Beff being back at work is that the kitties will become bi-statal. As in, Beff will take them to Bangor during times when I am gone. So the list of things we have two of will expand to litter boxes and cat feeding contraptions.

I got the details of the Atlantic Center Residency and I will be leaving on a Monday instead of on a Sunday. Beff will join me after a week, and the housesitters are Justin and then Hillary and Ken. I have to do two outreach events with the other Master Artists (which is where I show everyone how long my arms are), and they haven't factored Amy D into the mix yet. It was cute to find out that I was going to get my own rental car, but would be driven to the agency by the office, would put it on my own credit card, and be reimbursed. When things get complicated, they get complicated.

The DSL went out last night at about 5:30 says Beff -- as in, that's when the incessant Weather Bug chirping stopped, due to the lack of a network connection. It is still out, and doing e-mail (and this) via dial-up is excruciatingly slow. I think they make the DSL go buggers every once in a while just to make you appreciate how much better it is than dial-up. And I don't even know what "go buggers" means.

I would like to report that I taught swimmingly this week, and orchestration was a real hoot. I spent and hour and a half with harp writing and basic percussion writing. I had passed out Sam Solomon's book on writing for percussion, which made it into Max's hands, and every time I made a point about stick hardness or how the marimba sounds in the low register, Max was ready with a quote from the book that either confirmed or contradicted me. I made sure to put Max on a list. I was kind of tired for my Wednesday teaching (sorry, Charlotte, that my voice was so creaky and I yawned every five seconds), but I rallied by the end of the day.

April is the cruellest month. Lots of performances (see the page), but I'm only going to a few of them -- including the ones at the Rivers School tonight and Sunday afternoon (seeing as they have a reception in my honor...). I'm still looking forward to my Daylong Celebration of Creativity thing, though it will mean this space will be updated a day late (get over it), and I still need to think of something to say. I think in about four weeks I will be pressing the flesh, in NYC, of more Brandeis donors. So I'm back on the Rembrandt teeth-whitening stuff.

And the cats love to go outside -- for about five minutes at a time. There were several times on the weekend and in the late afternoons when Beff and I did the Adirondack chairs when they would be more adventurous -- but they will have to work up to the outdoor thing, I guess. They can't go under the porch any more, thanks to our trip to Home Depot in February (pics below).

And of course while Beff is gone there will be little cleaning of the house and little effort put into Davycuisine. I think I'm well-stocked with microwave meals and canned soups.

Today's pictures (uploaded at excruciatingly slow speeds) are: Sunny enjoying the hammock closeup and contextually, the blocking off under the porch, the embryonic rhubarb close up, Beff filming some water, a flooded out dock on the Assabet, the Ben Smith Dam with lots of water, and a slightly flooded yard on the Assabet, where the water is usually 2 or 3 feet lower.

APRIL 8. Breakfast this morning was coffee, pineapple-orange juice and Boca meatless breakfast sausages. Dinner was 95% lean hamburgers and salad. Lunch was gazpacho. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST WEEK 33.1 and (woo hoo!) 72.9. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are two trips to BJs for staples, $163 and $93. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "I'd Like to Know Where You Got the Notion". POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When teaching first year composition at Columbia, there were readings of solo flute pieces I'd assigned (dangling modifier, but who cares?). One student had written "con fuoco" on his score, and I took it as a learning opportunity: I wrote "con fuoco" on the board, and one student asked what that meant. Without thinking (obviously), I said, "it's the power company for Fire Island." I then proceeded to break my arm patting myself on the back. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 1. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK When the snow slides off the slate roof, very occasionally it brings a slate tile with it. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Where were all these bugs during the winter? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Hamburger dill pickles, sugar free popsicles, olives, grapes. BIRDS HEARD OR SEEN THIS WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE common yellowthroat (heard), Downy woodpecker (heard and seen), mockingbird (heard on Brandeis campuse), house wren (heard). FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS WEEK 0. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 7. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a piece of snot, a moral compass, a pair of tweezers, six pairs of boxer shorts.

This update gets typed in rather early. The cats were rambunctious this morning, and at about 5:30 my vertigo -- long nascent and threatening -- came back when I laid on my left side. The room spun for a while, and I had two dry heaves. Then I calmed down. So now until this stupid thing goes away, Alka Seltzer Plus is on my list of things I will be taking. Currently, I seem to dizzify when I look up or look down while bending over. What fun.

Beff is still in Costa Rica, where she will be until the 30th. She has called 3 times and e-mailed 3 times, and I was there to pick up one of the calls. She describes great heat, loud insects at night, occasional very gusty winds, and a steep hill to go into town, which gives great exercise, I would guess. And she is making excellent progress on a voice and video piece for Soozie. I just hope that "Just Filmin' The Fish" from the fish market makes it into the final cut. The inhabitants of the colony are now negotiating where the colony field trip will be -- possibly to a volcano, possibly to some national forest type thing. In any case, there will tend to be much wind, warmth, and steepness with which to contend.

The baseball season is back under way, and news of the Red Sox dominates the airwaves, even more than the death of the Pope. The Sox were underwhelming against the Yankees, but the Yankees closer blew two saves, so there were big articles about that. If that don't beat all.

The weekend was completely taken up by the Rivers Music School Symposium on Contemporary Music for the Young. A bigass rainstorm was forecast to send downpours here all weekend, but that forecast made Them What Make look bad -- it rained Saturday morning, and then it pretty much stopped. And by the way, at 8 am on Saturday, I took our dead TV and a dead computer monitor to the first-Saturday-of-the-month opportunity at the Maynard Recycling Center. Cost to me: $20. Newly available space on the porch: priceless.

But I digressed horribly, yet again. The Rivers Seminar involved no fewer than 10 events from Friday night to Sunday evening, and I went to 7 of them as the distinguished commissioned composer. In fact, at the beginning of each event (probably including the 3 I missed) I was singled out and introduced, as if it were an invitation to ask me for autographs. Friday night was the "faculty concert" which included performances by faculty of 5- to 10-minute pieces followed by a 45-minute jazz set that seemed much longer, since everyone presumed it would end after 20. "My" contribution, which kicked off the symposium, was choreography by Anne Edgerton (faculty) with two professional dancers of the first two movements of "Dances in the Dark" played in recording of the October, 2000 performance by New York New Music Ensemble. It was good choreography -- Anne obviously noticed that there was a "bass clarinet" character and a "piccolo" character in the second movement -- and it's always nice seeing professionals slither. My contribution was a slight six minutes, and all the other pieces were short, too. Until the jazz set, which I have to admit was very well done -- kudos especially to the bass player and drummer -- who looked like Anthony Gatto when the groove really got going.

I skipped the first two events of Saturday -- a composer workshop with composers who are not me, and a "new sounds" concert -- but caught the next two concerts, bridged by a reception. Kurt Coble did some violin pyrotechnics, and a lot seemed familiar about him -- when he reminded me that I interviewed him for Columbia way back when. We went through all the old times we might have had, and then there was the brie at the reception. I skipped the 6:00 jazz concert that night in order to come back home and worry about the roof, etc. (more on that later). Perhaps the highlight of that day was hearing a Lowell Liebermann piece about a rhinoceros fervently performed by a kid whose legs were at least a foot short of being able to reach the pedals. It'll be a few years before this kid can do my pedaling etude.

Sunday's events were a "literary reference" concert, a reception in honor of ME, and a final gala concert on which I had four pieces, including the one that Rivers commissioned. And true to form, I kept being introduced at the start of each program. Marti Epstein had one "American etude" on almost every concert, and each one was invidividual and well-placed for the kids that played them. Why can't I write simple pieces like that? The second movement of my flute and piano piece "Firecat" was on the "literary" concert -- as the word firecat came from a Wallace Stevens poem -- and the players did quite a good job with a piece that bored the heck out of me (mine).

Then there was the reception in honor of me, but hardly anyone had anything to ask me. Which suited me. The strawberries were very good. As were the chocolate chip cookies.

And really hard pieces of mine were on the finale -- my old Elegy for string quartet, taken out of mothballs for its first performance in 23 years, Corrente (etude 10), E-Machines, and the new piece. All of them went surprisingly well, even the Elegy, which is a bear (the Atlantic Quartet had said, tongue-in-cheek, when they played it in 1982 that they'd have to take out tendinitis insurance to play my piece), especially when it steals the Adagio for Strings thing of getting really, really high at the climax. Corrente and E-Machines went well (E-Machines was occasionally mind-bogglingly fast), and then there was "Four Rivers" for flute, clarinet, horn and marimba. Now every composer to whom I have said what ensemble I was writing for has done an immediate "Mr Yuck" about the combination, but I was determined to make it work. So listening to the 11 minutes of my piece I kept mentally kicking myself for choices that didn't seem to work. But I had the good sense to end with a perpetual motion scherzo kind of thing with chords that kept building up around repeated notes in the marimba, and for some reason people seemed to think I had discovered great colors in the ensemble. It was actually a good performance -- and I noted a place in the last movement where I had written a gap in the perpetual motion in the marimba in order to facilitate a page turn (I'm practical that way) and noted that the marimbist didn't have to turn a page. But he did get a different set of sticks. When he came back in, he had the chord that was being sustained by the other instruments, so maybe that's the color thing that people were talking about.

Afterwards, there were autographs to sign, little CDs and DVDs to give to the faculty I'd met at Rivers, and a party with dinner and beer. It was a nice thing to have, and after a whole weekend of reception food, the pork and chicken and vegetarian stuff was a welcome gastronomic relief. The Director David Tierney gave a nice little speech, people made their retorts, and I think I agreed to do a blurb about the Seminar for their newsletter or something.

Spring springs nicely here -- the last piece of the puzzle happened Monday when I brought the lawnmower out of the basement, added oil, and made sure it started -- the very slight smell of gasoline mixed with old grass brought back summer memories -- and put it into the storage shed. Sure signs of spring abound -- from the crocuses going by to the daffodils being ready to emerge and violets coming up, the lawn getting greener, the proliferation of bird songs in the morning, the emergence of the rhubarb, and especially the tedium of me writing about it all in this space. It was mild here Tuesday through Thursday, with gradually warming temps until yesterday's 73 degrees. I did some quality hammock time, did a lot of cutting of vines and the like in various spots in our yard, did some raking of ailunthus detritus (say that five times fast), and facilitated the melting of the LAST bit of snow which was by the front porch. As of Tuesday, all the snow was finally gone.

While surveying all that we own, I encountered a large slate roof tile on the ground in the side yard on the west side of the house. It's big -- about a foot by a foot and a half -- and was a little broken in one corner. I looked up onto the roof to find a space where a tile once was but now wasn't. So I asked the people at Maynard door and window if they knew someone who did slate roofs (the last time we called someone about it, four places never returned the call, and the fifth that did scheduled a visit but didn't show up), and they gave me a number. Got the guy right away -- who was driving and pulled over in order to take my info. He's to show up later today to look at it. Meanwhile, there was a half-sized tile on the south-facing roof that had fallen off before we bought the house -- it's been on the edge of the roof over the mud room all this time -- and I ventured out yesterday morning to retrieve it. Heavy!

The Marine Band sent the final version of Sibling Revelry as it will be made available to Midwest Clinic types who bought the concert -- it seems to be all the 6:45 performance except for the very end of Moody's Blues, where there is a pretty obvious splice where the crotales are hit. Meanwhile, in orchestration I first talked about various things regarding notation, then talked about the wind band. They all have to write for it this week. I played them the beginning of Schwantner's "Mountains Rising Nowhere" thing that made his reputation, and what makes it a successful band piece is that it doesn't actually use the band at all -- it's all piano stuff and wine glass chords and the band singing notes. How precious. There wasn't much of a lesson in how to score for winds from that piece....

As this is being typed, I am doing laundry for the third time since Beff went Costa Ricawards. I hope she will be proud of me. Soon roof guy comes. Tomorrow my picture is being taken for an upcoming story on me for Signal to Noise magazine, which is being written by Christian Carey. I am considering the options of what would make the coolest shot without being pretentious. On the big slabs by the Ben Smith Dam? By the parking garage structure at the mill? At the opening to the old railroad tracks nearby? At the old ice house area where there's a granite slab with a quote from Thoreau about River Towns? By the nice view in Harvard or by the town green there? It will be a black and white photo, and the guy coming out to do it is really into fonts and so he knows me that way. Wow.

The local rivers are no longer flooding, but the stupid Weather Bug thing still chirps at me all day because rivers 80 miles away are flooding. I wish it would just shut up.

I made a few trips to BJs, mostly to get more cat food and cat litter, but also got bigass jars of hamburger dill pickles, campari tomatoes, DVD-Rs, DVD storage packs, and such other things as I deemed necessary. BJ's is a fun place to shop because there is so much of everything. Hey, I now even have extra Worcestershire sauce because it came free with my 2-pack of hot sauce.

Next Friday, the Daylong Celebration of Creativity. This update will be a day late. Deal with it.

Today's pictures begin with my gratuitous yearly picture of myself holding a beer on the hammock. This be followed by a picture of the large tile that fell from the roof this winter, on permanent display. Note canoe in background. These are followed by tedious closeups of signs of spring: the veiny crocuses, a nascent rhododendron, a nascent rhubarb, a nascent bumch of daffodils, nascent violets, and a terribly cute picture of Sunny asleep in the computer room.

APRIL 16. Breakfast this morning is coffee and pineapple-orange juice. Dinner was a chicken cutlet and macaroni and cheese microwave concoction. Lunch, in New Bedford, was a roast beef sammich, apple, potato chips, and ice tea. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THE LAST WEEK 26.3 and 70.5. LARGE EXPENSES this last week a down payment on a third of the cost of roof work: $3500. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "I Don't Want a Pickle -- I Just Wanna Ride My Motor-Sickle". POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Jon Lang and I were expert belchers-on-demand in high school, and normally we used this talent to gross people out (can you think of a better use?). But our talent, collectively, was finally put to good use when the music department put on a production of "Oliver." Sam Newton, who played Mr. Bumble, has a scene where he has to belch and a woman utters the groaner, "Are you going to sit there all day snoring?" Sam couldn't belch on demand, so Jon and I stood in the wings, Sam acted out a belch, and the two of us let it rip. Worked every time. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 3. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Downtown New Bedford. Pretty buildings. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: How did we get the word "daffodil"? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Hamburger dill pickles, sugar free popsicles, and a new kind of weirdo sammich: jalapeno peppers in a folded-over slice of fat-free cheese. BIRDS HEARD OR SEEN THIS WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE Phoebe (heard, lots). Also, peepers have been around for several weeks. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS WEEK 0. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 8. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE Ms. Potato Head, the notion that I'd like to know where you got, seven bags of peat moss, a slinky.

The vertigo of which I wrote last week precisely here was, thankfully, short-lived -- only about a day or so. That echinacea stuff apparently helps, since that was the first episode in about 21 months. Currently, the cold that went around here may be making its way into me, but I have been successful so far at keeping it away.

The last week of school is upon us, and that brings with it many things. The "Leonard Bernstein Festival of Creative Arts" is going on on campus this weekend, and I have to introduce two of the acts tomorrow. And I have to do my favorite chairman task of the year, salary recommendations that will be overruled anyway. At the end of the week the second-year grad students start their general exams. And only one more day of orchestration. A week from Wednesday I am having lunch with the President of Brandeis, and I don't know why.

This is a Saturday update instead of a Friday one because of the "Symposium on Creativity" in which I was a participant happened yesterday, in an old building in downtown New Bedford owned by the UMass Dartmouth campus. I got up plenty early, as it IS an hour and a half drive and I expected rush hour traffic to suck. Nonetheless, I got there early enough to have my own breakfast as well as the one that was provided. I explored a little bit of downtown New Bedford, which has lots of nice art deco buildings and facades and a mish mash of different businesses, and many empty storefronts. My jaunts were brief, as it was 30 degrees and I just had my suit on. There were also a lot of old mills that looked very stylish, if empty. And a whaling museum, which was not open at the time I was walking around. While walking around, I got some hot sauce and teeth-brushing thingies at Brooks drugs. And then it was to the symposium. Where one of the first things I did was to brush my teeth with one of those thingies -- a thing you wrap on your finger and rub your teeth with, and it was minty fresh. Which means that I, too, was minty fresh. Both words of which have five letters. Oh, why can't someone out there be named Minty Fresh? Any volunteers, almost eleven?

Since I had CDs and DVDs -- and since other presenters were projecting Power Point presentations from their own computers -- there was a long early morning span of getting the technology to work. And I'm glad to say I figured out the projector for them, which was crucial -- after all, Amy Dissanayake was going to be on that white wall, much larger than life. The Dean who popped into my colloquium at UMass Dartmouth back in October was the emcee, and said effusive things about each presenter -- he's also the kind of guy that grabs your shoulder before he begins talking to you. So the event started with a new alumni award, and the winner gave a sterling presentation about how design can change the world (you had to be there). My part in this was to press PLAY on the DVD player to play a performance of John Lennon's "Imagine" sung by someone else. He was followed by a biologist who detailed the mechanics of the brain and their relation to creativity. Unsurprisingly from a doctor, eating right, exercising, and meditating were his recommendations for the best creativity. And then I got my own effusive introduction, used my buzzwords (metaphor, association and intuition), and played stuff, much to the surprise and amazement of them what were in attendance. Actually, I think I forgot to say anything about intuition.

Then we were directed to a building two blocks away to view art by students and to get free bag lunches. Timmy Melbinger, who teaches at Dartmouth, came to my part of the show, as did current student Jon "Jon" Yoken, with his mother, and we all ambled to this free lunch building. The art was VERY impressive, and it's clear that at least for artistic stuff this University must be a prime destination. As to the food, I wouldn't make it a destination. I then ambled back to catch the first part of the afternoon events -- boy, I amble a lot, don't I? Here UMassD faculty in art talked about what they are doing -- students doing virtual reality simulations (they all looked like video games because they use a video game building program to make them), a graduate doing site-specific art in North Carolina, making slides available digitally (how often have I heard that quandary?), students proposing projects to comment on or revitalize the New Bedford area. By this time, I'd had enough, and skipped about before the last two presentation, paid ten bucks at a parking garage, and made the drive home -- and what a dull one it was as well.

And during that drive I found out that the music department is now most definitely without an academic administrator, as Nancy Redgate died in her sleep yesterday morning. We knew for a while that it was coming, but it still came as a bit of a shock. The last time I saw her was with Beff during February vacation, and she wasn't with it very much, was very tired, and her usual cranky self. We will most certainly miss her, a lot.

Them what make tell us that a blocking high has been over Hudson Bay keeping precipitation away from us -- except for some snow showers that backed in Monday night, not at all surprising anyone -- and that we spent most of the week on the cold side of it. So it has gotten below freezing most nights this week and only into the 40s and 50s during the day, a pattern we are told will change this week. Today, 62. Tomorrow, 70. Every day next week over 70, and upper 70s on Wednesday. Big woo hoo there, pardner. Spring continues to spring, and I project about a week and a half to two weeks will be my first abbreviated lawn mowing -- the grass in the apple tree part of the yard is taking hold. Lots of yellow right in front of the Adirondack chairs, but the comeback is coming there, too. The grape-y nuisancy things are starting to sprout in the way back, and I am uprooting them when I can, and the nettle-grass (that stings if you touch it) is coming up, too. Forsythias at Brandeis are in bloom, but ours are a ways away from blooming. Spring sprang enough by Sunday for me to find out how out of shape the winter made me -- I had my first bike ride, the shortest possible one (4 miles), and I was durn winded when it was over. Legs are fine, though. I presume more are to follow, and longer ones. I also FINALLY took the last snow shovel and stored it in the garage.

It is 8 am Saturday morning as I type this, and I hear a lawnmower, but do not know exactly where it is. Cool.

So on Friday, the roof guy came, as predicted. My Medieval specialist friends (we all have them) will be impressed to know that his company is called the Twelfth Century Slate Roofing Company, and that he specializes in slate roofs (which must have been invented in the 1100s, or I didn't get the joke). He was recommended by the Maynard Door and Window people (who have our four new windows and are ready to put them in, too), showed up at 9 after doing a full traversal of the house. He pointed to some botched repairs done by previous owners (tarring chimneys instead of surrounding them with metal), and gave us two quotes: to replace the two fallen tiles and slather up the attic dormer that leaks a bit, a grand. To do a really good job and replace the flaked slate with copper and do the chimneys proper, $10,555. At first I said just do the patches, but I talked about it with Beff, and we decided to go for the whole magilla. Replacing the whole roof would be $80,000, which is kind of out of the question. The guy did say that the house was really sturdily built and was a gem, and that you couldn't get anything like it for a million bucks nowadays (built new, I presume he meant). But there is the issue of the 95-year old roof. And we have PENNSYLVANIA slate, he says, the only kind that flakes with age (we have plenty of them in the back yard).

So meanwhile, I look outside and see green. Ahh. A composerly lesson in the value of delaying the real recapitulation.

Meals this week include dinner TONIGHT with the Chafes and lunch Thursday with Anny Jones, who won lunch with me at a raffle at a music department party. Everything else is just a light.

I didn't have much time to enjoy my house and yark this week, as teaching and events piled up -- including Yoko Nakatani's dissertation defense (good to see Kathy Alexander, who was the outside reader, again) and a colloquium by Peter Child. There were also the Open Houses for students accepted to Brandeis who haven't made up their minds, so I did several of those events. And got to hear, "well I'm really interested in music but I don't know if I want to MAJOR in it..." the usual thousand or so times.

My fame continues to spread far and wide, or near and thin -- I don't remember which one exactly. On the online Sequenza21, my etudes are listed as one of the 111 most influential pieces since 1970. I don't know what that means, or even if I should show up for the ceremony (on which I could stand -- rim shot) if there is one, but I suppose I shouldn't want to be part of a list that would have me as part of a list. Gotta work on the delivery of that joke.

The DVD and CD of the Marine band stuff from the Midwest Conference arrived Monday night, just in time for me to waste time in orchestration playing them. The students were impressed as I named performers as they flashed by (Cynthia ... Barbara, oh she played the crap out of that bass clarinet stuff in Ten of a Kind ... Lisa ... Gail, Betsy, Elizabeth -- she's new -- Barbara again ... Jay ... the hornist is actually named Amy Horn ... oh what's his name?). And in the second performance of Moody's Blues, you actually see the vibraslap played -- in this case by being hit against the timpanist's right leg. We watched quite a bit of the Schwantner percussion concerto -- in order to get a feel for the percussion instruments discussed in class -- and the class was all over the music: "What 70s TV theme is this?" "Uh oh, Captain Kirk is in real trouble now!" "The desert was ... parched." The student appreciated the row of tuned almglockens in the front battery which was there just to recapitulate the already-forgotten ostinato of the first movement, and I got to reminisce about being in the mountains of Switzerland and hearing all those almglocks hung on distant cows a-tollin'. For dessert we watched a bunch of Boulez conducting the Rite of Spring. And Rick B. kept piping in with "...and just when you thought he'd run out of great ideas..."

That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.

Today's pictures start with a couple of closeup flora shots from the garden immediately behind the grill. Next we see the current state (as of Tuesday) of the rhubarb coming up, Cammy's tail poking out as he hides out under the grill, the current state of our canoe and the back yard, and the west-facing roof with missing tile circled ever so artistically.

APRIL 22. Breakfast this morning coffee, orange juice, coffee again, and a red danish. Dinner last night was a tuna burger and a salmon burger. Lunch was salmon on a bed of rice with vegetables at the Quarterdeck restaurant, and an appetizer of steamers. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 26.6 and (woo hoo!) 86.5. LARGE EXPENSES this last week were none. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The band version of Strident. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Here is a story that actually appeared in the regular text of this page, now reduced to nostalgia. In Theory 2 -- a mere 15 months ago -- when Variations was the topic, I was playing one student's them and remarked that it sounded a bit like a jazz tune, and he said it was transcribed from a banjo recording. I said, "Bela Fleck?" He said yes -- "what other banjo player is there beside Bela Fleck?" Without missing a beat, I said, "Well, there's always Popeye." Mass look of confusion from the students. "Oh, not THAT Popeye -- I mean this other Popeye. You know, the banjo playing Popeye." RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 6. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the little sprinkler attachment for the hose, long forgotten in the garage. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Why is the chemical symbol for Potassium "K"? (I actually know the answer) RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Hamburger dill pickles, sugar free popsicles, olives in various configuration. BIRDS HEARD OR SEEN THIS WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE Whatever one goes "churr" a lot. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS WEEK 0. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 5 (of 6). INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the feeling of pointlessness, a kewpie doll, tweezers, next year's calendar.

Yesterday a student e-mailed to ask the difference between an overlap and an elision. Whatever I answered he said I was wrong. So I stopped answering. So now there's an overlap/elision happening here: the last day of classes elided/overlapped with the first day of work on our roof. First, I feel very fortunate to have found a contractor who starts the work within a week of the contract for the work being signed and the down payment being made. I found out about it as I retrieved messages from my cell phone on the drive home from work this morning -- and, lo and behold, there was a truck in the driveway, some large copper sheets next to it, and two large ladders against the house. Amazing.

Maybe the more amazing thing was the old tiles they ripped out in order to cover with copper -- one zoomed right down and landed at an angle, stuck in the ground. I took a picture, dontcha know. And of course the cats are more than a bit spooked by the sound of hammering coming from the highest reaches of their living space. I believe Cammy will spend the next three weeks under the couch, including the times when there are no such sounds coming from up there. Sunny files nervously into the computer room for a reassuring petting, then exits again, looking very worried. And that's the truth.

Beff continues her Costa Rican sojourn, and is beginning her last full week there -- it will be good to have her back here, 10:15 pm next Saturday night, flight from Dallas, Terminal B. Near as I can tell, a field trip to the Caribbean coast was cancelled due to wind and a field trip to the equidistant Pacific coast substituted. I'm sure I'll get the full story and pictures -- some of which may show up in this space, naturally.

I turned the heat in the house off on Monday morning, and so far it is still off -- though it's getting a bit nippy inside today, having gone down to freezing overnight. It was July here on Wednesday, making it up to 87 with a dewpoint of 41 -- very, very dry heat, Arizona-like, they tell me -- and there was an extremely elevated fire danger warning for the whole area. It was odd being in the middle of summer with still-bare trees everywhere and grass not yet ready to mow. Shonuff spent a little time on the hammock, though. After my five hours of teaching, that is. We have much rain and cold predicted for the weekend, so I presume I'll have to relent and turn back on the heat. It had gotten so dry that I actually took a sprinkler to the lawn -- what with so much yellow in what are usually the greenest places. The sprinkler attachment was grody from 3 years unused in the garage, so I ungrodied it.

On Saturday, as predicted in this very space, the Chafes came over, we had some expensive beer while sitting in the Adirondack chairs, and then went to the Quarterdeck. For the first time I had neither the Cajun combo nor the clam roll, and instead I had a grilled salmon with a wine sauce. It was exquisite, even moreso than the beer was. Eric got the cajun combo and I forget what Pat got. When all was said and done, we were fatandhappy.

On Sunday I had to make my several appearances to introduce the acts at the Leonard Bernstein Festival of Creative Arts, and it turned out to be a gloriously sunny day, warm and stuff. In between my service, I ambled up to in front of the Shapiro Student Center and partook of the competing Braunstein Festival -- where there were free hamburgers if you stood in line a long time, inflatable carnival type things (a bouncy one and an obstacle course), a kissing booth, and a sex olympics (or so they said). I just dug the sunny and warm weather and the black t-shirt I was wearing. I had to announce the Early Music Ensemble and the organist Jason Cloen (see page 1) and had cue cards with my introduction already written. The EME card contained the howler "Sephardic polyphony" and Jason's wanted me to call him "organic," but I had my way with both introductions. And Sarah Mead shonuff made sure I said the right stuff. EME was very impressive, as everyone sang and played one, two, or three instruments. Ah, the recorder.

Meanwhile, the Red Sox vaulted into first place by shutting out the Orioles twice.

I must say that I taught unimpeachably this week (because I did), and was grateful that Jeff Roberts took up a large portion of my orchestration class with his dissertation topic. I was also grateful to get home and start what I hope will finally be a near-daily bike ride regimen. Six miles Tuesday and Nine miles Wednesday -- alas, only three miles yesterday as it got cold again. I'm shooting for ten today with the West Acton ride -- later when it warms up a bit more.

I went into work this morning expecting to take all day to write a report. It was finished at 9:30. Good thing, too, because it meant I could get back here and experience the pounding of my roof and share it with the cats. Yesterday afternoon I pruned a whole buttload of the cedars out in the "L" part of the yard, near the apple tree, and I'm not sure why. Except for the feeling of accomplishment. There I noticed that the grass is getting somewhat long out there -- I may MOW a bit later today, too, woo hoo.

Boy, this was a boring update. More of the same next week, I am sure. Next Thursday I drive to New York and meet with a Brandeis alum interested in making a donation. I love doing that. Meanwhile, the May 3 Yaddo event sent me more e-mails, and we will be staying with Hayes and Susan when in New York. Three snaps for that. Tomorrow the Corolla goes in for its 45,000 mile service, which they tell me will take two hours. So, walking around in the cold and rain will be my lot for the morning. Wish me luck.

Today's pictures are the forsythias on the side of the house and by the garage -- pathetic, huh? Then we have extreme closeups of the hostas coming back and the embryonic flowers on the red rhododendron, and Cammy looking out the window. This is followed by the current ladder situation, the copper plates ready to install, and the slate tile that lodged in the yard.

APRIL 29. Breakfast this morning coffee and a blueberry scone, eaten in the driver's seat of a blue Toyota Corolla (mine). Dinner was vegetable tempura, miso soup, chicken teriyaki, and vanilla ice cream. Lunch was shredded chicken with garlic sauce and hot and sour soup. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 36.1 and 71.4. LARGE EXPENSES this last week were the rest of the cost of fixing the roof, $7,285; parking in New York, $30. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the tune by Graham Station on The History of Funk Volume 3. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: It was October, 1988 when Beff and I went post-Platonic. That was in Woodside, in my cabin in the redwoods the year I taught at Stanford. Later that week, we went to dinner with Ross (Bauer) and his woman-of-the-year (also known as Beth) in San Francisco before a concert where Ross had a piece. After the usual chitchat about the concert and rehearsals, Beff and I dropped the bombshell about our new post-Platonic relationship. Ross spent the rest of dinner utterly silent, staring at his napkin. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 4. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK copper showing through a knothole. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Why does popcorn pop? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Sun tea mixed with lemonade, various fruits, salmon. BIRDS HEARD OR SEEN THIS WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE the cormorant over the Assabet River. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS WEEK 0. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 7. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE incapacitation, technique, five blades of grass, a toke.

The best news of the week is that Beff gets back tomorrow night; alas, showers and thunderstorms are forecast, so I'm fully prepared to spend some serious carpet time in Logan Airport. Well, actually, I'm not. But I will if I have to. Thankfully for me and for Beff, I sprang for an extra house cleaning today by The Maids, and it smells like the antiseptic version of Lemon Pledge.

Yesterday I drove to New York City for Augustus Arnone's piano recital at Merkin Hall, meeting with Brandeis alumna Ann Tanenbaum as part of the trip. Thinking I may be solicited to go out for a beer, I called Marilyn Nonken to ask to stay on her couch, and she answered in the affirmative. So there was plenty of aerobic walking in New York between events, and I spent quite a bit of time in Tower Records waiting to meet Marilyn for dinner -- which was at Dan's Japanese just up the street, as you may have gathered from the first paragraph. I also had the aluminum can of Kirin Ichiban, and it satisfied.

Augustus's recital had a surprisingly good turnout -- thankfully not the usual collection of musicians you see at mod music concerts. He called the concert "20th Century Studies," and then blatantly played pieces of mine from 2003 (Etudes Book VI). Probably not realizing that they were written in the 21st century, no matter whose counting system you use. For once, my pieces started a concert, and I simply had fun. "Cell Division" actually made me a little dizzy at times -- all that treble, all those competing arpeggios, UP and down and UP and down -- and the tango was suitably sultry. After a good performance of the Carter Piano Sonata, Marilyn and I discussed it, and neither of us likes any of Carter's piano music. Whereas I think I like a lot more other Carter pieces than she does. The second half was the first book of Debussy etudes -- Debussy's attempt at cocktail piano music, I guess -- and a big piece by Roberto Sierra. After the concert, one woman told me she was a painter and "Cell Division" just made her want to go to her studio and paint. I'm sure I speak for at least one composer when I say that composer(s) don't usually know what to do with that sort of remark, except perhaps to smile (perchance to dream), nod, and say, "Cool" or "Thank you." Then, in an extreme bout of esprit d'escalier, I(we) realize that these etudes are conceived somewhat visually anyway, and saying they give someone else visual ideas is the highest form of compliment. Still, I(we) say, "Cool" or "Thank you."

Before the etude set -- like 4 seconds before it -- a woman in front of us turned off her cell phone, not realizing that that sound was going to be upcoming thematic material. Augustus smiled, thinking it was done on purpose. And Don Hagar showed up, whom I haven't seen in some while (I once got a parking ticket when I drove into Boston to give him a free lesson), and we promised an exchange of CDs. Ah, the composer life. After the concert, Marilyn and I got a six of Saranac Black and Tan and demolished it while watching a DVD of the Marine Band. The first thing she said after the clarinets stopped playing and the camera lingered was, "Oh look -- I recognize that -- that's the 'counting face'."

Earlier in the week there were just things that had to get done. On Friday the roofers installed copper at the joints of the two dormers, and they were immediately put to the test -- we had an obnoxious, windy, driving rainstorm on Saturday. The attic stayed bone-dry, and the place that has leaked these last five years was also as dry as can be -- which gives us one more pail to use as we see fit. Or fee sit. On Tuesday they came back to do more work, including copperizing the bathroom outtake chimney and lining the sides of the chimneys with lead, and today they are finishing the job, copperizing all the corners on the roof. Doug Raboin claims the fixes will last 60-80 years (would one of the almost eleven volunteer to return here in 2065 to see if I deserve my money back?). I got the walkthrough of all the work accomplished, and got to see some of the old rotted wood that was replaced underneath the new copper. The coolest thing, until the copper oxidizes, will be how bright and shiny the edges appear from the road -- especially when it is sunny. Cool. Thank you.

Otherwise, I taught at NEC unimpeachably, and have but one more meeting and I'm done for the year, baby. I had the chicken caesar wrap this time, and will probably end my sentence with Buffalo wings -- hey, maybe I can persuade Beff to come along for the ride. (which I doubt, since she will want to be obsessive and clean) Other things to do next week include the Yaddo benefit on Tuesday (anOTHer drive to New York) and writing up the academic administrator's job description for the sake of a search. Oh yeah, and a meeting to vote on the awards we give out at graduation.

Meanwhile, I had my brief meeting with the Dean on Wednesday, and then lunch with the President. Since it was vacation week, the only real restaurant open on campus was the Stein, which became crowded and noisy. The President said the point of the lunch was to make sure I wasn't still wanting to leave Brandeis. I changed the subject. And we talked about pleasant, if mundane, things. He asked to be served four Buffalo wings, but he didn't want the Buffalo sauce (so what he wanted was chicken tenders). I had the chicken rosemary, which was nice, and poured some of "The President's Own" Buffalo wing sauce on my bed of rice. After lunch was Shawna's performance review. And when I saw what I had done, I put it in a campus envelope and went home.

I also had to sign a form for Seungah, who is surprisingly back in this area, and she asked to be added to the long, long, long list of "if you hear of a job can you tell me about it?" people. I actually recommended her for one in Illinois. I also got three more resumes from strangers asking for teaching for next year -- it's up to almost twenty.

This morning I left at 6 am, and got home to Maynard about 9:35 -- construction in Worcester slowed me down a bit. I had to make some small talk with the roofers (I used a 6-point font) and write a check for the remaining work on the roof. I see now (2:50 pm) that they have finished and gone. Cool. Thank you. The Maids came at about 11:45, so I had to clear out of the house, at which point I made more small talk with the roofers ("it only takes 45 minutes for the whole house with five cleaners?"), and drove to the Sit 'n' Bull for a beer. But I changed my mind, and drove straight to Quick Cuts on the corner of Routes 27 and 119 in Acton, and got a haircut, stopped at Donelans and got grapes, blackberries, beer, pickles, and gourmet tomatoes (some dwarf, some yellow/orange ones), and when I got back, the Maids were gone. Meanwhile, I did laundry, including the sheets. And then remembered it was Friday. Here I am, almost eleven!

Geoffy was here for three nights, and we shared two meals -- Tuesday at the Quarterdeck and Wednesday night I made chicken sandwiches. Wednesday was another wind-driven rain event, so Geoff suggested I get some summer beers for dinner -- I got the mandarin hefeweizen and Sea Dog strawberry wheat. Which we consumed with abandon as I put the iPod on the speakers and played through Volumes 2, 3, and 4 of The History of Funk. All the while talking about how great, or emotional, or technically advanced the tracks were. Did I mention the beer? Geoff also kindly brought me some programs from his gigs that included ME. And the cats got used to him pretty quickly (I told him to shake a treat bag and say the word T-R-E-A-T-S as a shortcut to that -- later he experimented with using the word at different speeds, pitch levels, and consonant emphases).

But of course the cats continued to be spooked by the roofers. Much time spend in hiding, mostly under the couch, but sometimes under the bed in the master bedroom.

And I now have a few more percussion instruments in my retinue -- a little bell tree, a ratchet with a crank, and four finger cymbals (which might as well be called "the little cymbals with the big sound"). Musician's Friend online is a great resource for cheap percussion stuff, though unexplainably, it doesn't know what "almglocken" are. Cool. Thank you.

Pictures today include the strange surprise I witnessed when I entered the computer room on Tuesday, that chimney installed, a surreptitious shot of the roofers at work, a shot of where the cats spent the day, the bell tree, a sign encountered on a hike over Summer Hill, the now voluminous rhubarb, and the very beginnings of blossoms on the apple tree.

Missing 5/6/05

MAY Friday the 13th. Breakfast this morning was Morningside Farms meatless sausage patties and coffee. Dinner was lemongrass chicken, Vietnamese hot and sour soup, and various Vietnamese appetizers. Lunch was a grilled salmon sandwich. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 34.0 and 79.5. LARGE EXPENSES this last eight days include parking in NYC, $22 including tip. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Amy playing "No Stranger to Our Planet." POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Driving back from Boston into New York with Arun -- who had accompanied us to Boston to hear the premiere of Milton Babbitt's Transfigured Notes -- we approached the George Washington Bridge, and instead of singing the William Schuman piece about it (it's hard to do polychords with just three people), we started repeating the phrase "George Washington Bridge, Washington Bridge, Where is the Fridge?" sung to the tune of the Beatles's "Buffalo Bill." With each repeat being in a new, random key. Now every time Beff and I approach it in the car we launch into the same tune. We are, if anything, predictable in this regard. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 6. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK how to get to FDR Drive. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: What does Thalia mean? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Pickles, hot and sour soup, real limeade. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS WEEK 1 -- well not destroyed, but discombobulated -- the remote for the computer room air conditioner. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a glass beaker filled with mucous, a pebble with the New Testament lovingly carved into it, anybody's bald spot, half a dozen of the other.

It will be June before there is another update to this page, so deal with it. On Monday I fly out to the Atlantic Center, Amy D flies out at roughly the same time from NYC, and we land 6 minutes apart. Beff gets there on Saturday, and I get to drive to the airport to pick her up. Fascinating.

So I'm just back from New York, again, and boy are my arms tired. It was a picturesque and sunny ride in, and I used my usual route -- which seems more complicated when you explain it than when you drive it (Great Road west to 495 south to 290 west to 90 west to 84 west to Hartford, catch 15 briefly to 91 south to the Wilbur Cross Parkway which becomes the Merritt Parkway which becomes the Hutchinson Parkway, exit left for Cross County Parkway, take to Saw Mill Parkway south which becomes Henry Hudson Parkway, exit at 95th Street and find parking), and I found parking a half-block from the show -- that is, in a garage. "Take Jazz Chords, Make Strange" was played by the Momenta Quartet with Jean Kopperud on a League-ISCM concert in the Leonard Nimoy Thalia Theater of Symphony Space (say that fourteen thousand times fast), and I took the opportunity to hang with some New Yorkers when not in thrall to the dress rehearsal or to the performance.

So first I had lunch (see above) at a Charley O's bar, grill and bar (that's what the sign actually says), and the $13 salmon sandwich was exquisite, if rather overpriced. Then after walking around a bit, I saw Daron for about an hour and I had a Sam Adams draft while he had tea and Cheese Nips. It was very, very nice to relax with him, as I haven't had that chance in a number of years now, and we talked about, among other things, New Years Eve 1997 -- where we collectively made pizza for the VCCA types. Daron claims he was plastered on that occasion, but my photographic evidence would seem to indicate otherwise. Okay, so then there was my dress rehearsal, and the players were all very, very good. I didn't have to say much, though I did catch myself saying "could that movement be more ... rustic?" By the end of the dress rehearsal, the performance was hair-raising (except for the top of my head, where that isn't exactly possible), and most of that made it into the performance.

After my dress rehearsal, I met Alvin Singleton -- who's been in Brooklyn recently -- for dinner at a fantastic and cheap! Vietnamese restaurant that I'd never heard of -- the Saigon Grill, corner of 90th and Amsterdam. No, not the Saigon Bar and Grill and Bar, just the Saigon Grill (must be old-style pre-Communist cuisine. Isn't Saigon called Ho Chi Minh City now?). I got a nice hot and sour soup and a lemongrass kind of grilled chicken thing that was very big, and only $8.95 -- Alvin got "C1" -- chicken basil -- which looked so good that the person at the next table asked what it was and ran to the waiter to change his order. Seeing as Alvin had roof work done more recently than I have, I paid.

And at this performance thing, I determined that I must have a face that easily contorts into what appears to others to be confusion or desperation. When I saw Lisa Moore for the first time in years, just as I was forming the words "Hey Lisa, how's it going" in my mouth, she said, "Lisa Moore." So instead, I said "I know." This also happened with Margaret Brouwer and Shi-Hui Chen -- Margaret was at the Double Exposure event in November, and I have no memory of her being there. Huh. It then started to occur to me that there's a lot of stuff that happened between November and early March that I simply don't remember. Must be those silly defense mechanisms. But anyway, there were six pieces on the concert and I was last -- crap, no more leaving at intermission to make my long drive home. Every piece had something nice about it, and I guess I liked Shu-Hui's piece best among those that were not by me (yes, almost eleven, I liked mine better, but on the other hand I do know it a lot better). By the way, in order not to embarrass myself again, I said "Hi Eleanor" to Eleanor Corey as she approached when she was still about ten feet away.

So yesterday afternoon a 50-foot high retaining wall collapsed onto the Henry Hudson Parkway, burying some parked cars, and closing the entire roadway -- about two hours after I passed by, so it's not my fault, I SWEAR. But that meant that to drive back I had to figure out an alternate route. I remembered the phrase "Bruckner Expressway" from when Beff and I moved out of New York to Spencer back in 1990, so I started asking people how to get to the Bruckner -- in 1990 in a rental truck, we went uptown to 125th and drove crosstown to the east for what seemed like forever, missed the ramp, turned around (no small feat) and got on it there. And there were as many different answers to how to get there as there were people I asked. Crap. So I took a conflation of Mario's advice and someone elses: 96th across town to FDR Drive north, and start following signs that say "to New England." Which I did, until I got tired of bigass trucks being 80 percent of the traffic, and I exited for the Wilbur Cross Parkway when I could (in Bridgeport, I believe). On the radio (which I blared to stay awake) they kept talking about the collapse on the Hudson Parkway, a fire on a bridge the stopped NJ Transit and Amtrak trains from going between NYC and Newark, and an execution in Connecticut that was mere hours -- no, minutes! -- away. I got home around 2 and next thing I knew Cammy was nuzzling me with that loud purr, it was light, and it was 6:30. Crap. Up I got.

Our quest to consume as many consumables from the fridge as possible before Florida was foiled by a concert at NEC on Tuesday night. Shen Wen was playing three etudes (12, 17, 50) on a "Composers Concert" at NEC. Scott Wheeler also had a very nice piece on this concert, as did other people I didn't know. So Beff and I drove in and parked and ate Japanese at Symphony Sushi (lots of eating out this week, alas). The first half was quite long, and there were pieces whose program notes began with "Alas" and "Perhaps". So we left at intermission -- which was actually rather late in the evening. So Beff and I started drawing up rules for things not to do with program notes, and "Don't begin with "Alas" or "Perhaps". Another note tried pretentiously to explain a piece's idea of continuity, which essentially boiled down to "this is what music is." So now here are three simple rules: don't begin with "Alas"; don't begin with "Perhaps"; and don't begin by defining music. Any other helpful suggestions from readers out there may be collected into an actual page on this website.

And that's a big oh wow. We had Carolyn Davies over for beer and seafood (yet another restaurant visit), and it was the most substantial conversation of the week. Not that the bar is set really high here. This morning Carolyn mentioned something about last week's post here, and I had presumed she'd stay away after asking what the audience for it was. I hope she's not hooked. Because "almost eleven" is a lot funnier than "almost twelve." Plus, it rhymes with "seven" and "heaven."

Them what make have been telling us it's not too hot here, so Florida and the 80s -- well, that seems cool. Or warm, actually. Thank you. As reported here before, Wednesday was to be 80, and then it was revised by them what make downward to 66, then to 72. The actual high temperature: 80. The weekend was the icky rain we've all come to know and laugh about, and during the quite warm bit, Beff finally got on the bicycle train (to mix metaphors) -- we did the short ride on Tuesday, and Boon Lake on Wednesday. Yep, Max was out waiting for a bone. We saw another nice house on Boon Lake, this one with plenty of indoor space, on the market, and looked it up. I predicted three quarters of a mil (I often speak colloquially), and was actually a little low. Wow, 2200 square feet and 160 feet of lake frontage. Priced for people who can only afford it if they work so much they're never home to enjoy it. But am I bitter? Lick me and find out.

Beff is in Vermont, or driving back from Vermont as I type this. She is NOT going to the Atlantic Center at the same time as me because she has to make an appearance at Maine All-State. So she's coming Saturday night, and I'll have to drive to the Orlando Airport to pick up her. Then fun things will begin to happen. Meanwhile, our Thankyou rewards cards came, and it's three credit-card sized Staples gift cards for $100, $100 and $50, each of which has imprinted on it "Use Like Cash." Ciao, ragazzo.

And besides all of that. I now have to mow all the lawns, even though it's scruffy in front (kind of like me in person). For you see, we will soon have housesitters and we don't want to make them do our yard work for us. By the way, we bought two baby rosemary plants and planted them a few days ago where the hosta used to be next to the garage. Time will tell (insert whatever you wish here). Ken and Hillary come for pizza dinner on Sunday evening, as they are the OTHER housesitters. What fun we will have in a one-horse open sleigh. Oh!

Fluoxetine hydrochloride dosage is now halved. I asked the doc to ramp it down before we go cold turkey, since I got pretty good advice on what happens when you try to go cold turkey on such things (a hand with an extended thumb pointing and gesturing downwards was part of the demonstration). Meanwhile, all the other pills are still on the docket.

My drivers license expires on my birthday, which is June 13. I got something from the Mass DMV with a form in it saying "don't mail the form. Take it to an RMV office", which for me means the half hour drive to the tedious part of Framingham (it is splitting hairs to say one part is more tedious than another, but what are you gonna do?), getting a number and waiting a long time while numbers not in sequence are called out. I got my number, and saw someone surrendering his license, having a picture taken, being given a temporary license and being told the new one would arrive in a week. So I thought about trying to board a plane for Florida with a temporary license without a picture that might expire while I was there, and decided to give it up -- at which point the magic phrase "OR YOU CAN RENEW YOUR LICENSE ONLINE" leaped out at me from the literature the RMV had already sent me. Stoopid, stoopid, stoopid. So I bought big Berkshire Beers (say that five times fast) and brought some to the Acting Chair and some to She What Runs Everything And What It Is Too. And I don't mean Elaine Wong. I hardly ever do.

And there we have it. Many new pictures taken on the new Sony Cybershot T-1, as it fits in my shirt pocket and all that. Beff even used it to make some movies for her current video project -- including the soup aisle at Shaws. No panning in that one, just sort of a shaky still picture, as it were. Plus, Beff got myriad movies of some oranges I got for her at Trader Joe's. First, in the bag, with Cammy being curious and sniffing them, then with me rolling oranges along the dining room table -- again, with Cammy going after them. I think if the camera captured our laughing we'd have enough for a laugh track for a half hour sitcom. We then realized that Beff's camera could also take full-resolution -- if compressed -- movies. So, people will be used, dogs and cats sleeping together, etc. When Beff said she wanted a movie of soup, I asked if she needed me to roll soup cans, too.

Oh yeah -- Sharon Bielik's recital at Brandeis Saturday night. Even though she did Reger, she was fantastic. A full recital and only three clams that I counted, and they were all in the Bach. They also did the Brahms F minor, which is better on clarinet. Trust me.

Lots of pictures this week, since I'll be away from this space for some time. The T-1 has a fantastic closeup mode in which you can get really, really close to something and the focus is nearly instantaneous (on the Coolpix 4500 often it takes 5 seconds for the focus, which is then on a distant object instead of a close one), and I took myriad shots. So we see closeups of apple blossoms and a dandelion seed thingie to start. Then we see the two cats together, first in the attic, and then in the pantry window. We then have our people pictures: Mike Gandolfi in Jordan Hall, Hayes in the Thalia Theater, Alvin in the Saigon Grill, and a picture of me taken by Daronius. Then we see yet another shot of the copper highlighting the roof (this time from the back yard) and a picture of the stage at the Thalia Theater -- you can tell it's used a lot for movie screenings. Finally, extreme closeups of some geegaws from the kitchen window: a Pez dispenser and a teeny little plastic cat that you are supposed to shoot out of a little plastic gun (which big Mike gave me).

JUNE 6. Breakfast this morning was coffee and Morningside Farms meatless breakfast patties. Dinner was chicken and vegetable stir fry. Lunch was Lean Pocket pepperoni pizza. Breakfast yesterday was nonexistent. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST THREE WEEKS 41.6 and 90.5 (Maynard) and about 71 and 95 (New Smyrna Beach, Florida) LARGE EXPENSES this last three weeks include three rides to and from Logan Airport, $299, and the rest of the cost of two new basement windows and two new second floor storm windows, $512. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Crowded House's "Always Take the Weather With You." POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: "Lonnie" was a worker in the office of the Stanford music department, and he left mid-year for a better job in San Francisco. On his last day there was a party, and testimonials were given. As I shook his hand to bid him well, he made some sort of sarcastic and vaguely insulting comment, to which I replied, smiling, "You have no dick." The laughter in the office rang on for nearly 15 minutes, it seemed. No one got that I was channeling Bill Murray from Ghostbusters. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK: St. Augustine. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How many puns can you REALLY make on "manatee"? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Bubbies Pickles, hot sauce, Tobasco hot olives, ice tea mixed with lemonade. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST THREE WEEKS at least one -- a double-sided frame holding pictures of Beff and Martler at the Corn Palace and of Alvin, me and David Keberle. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a dead spider, two dead spiders, three dead spiders, four dead spiders. Four dead spiders make a bunch (and so do many more).

Okay, so I (we) took the weather with me (us). Three weeks in Florida in the upper 80s and low 90s while there was a stalled storm here keeping it damp, windy, and in the 40s. Boys and girls, can you say "schadenfreude"? Yesterday we got back to Massachusetts to be greeted by 90 degree weather while I saw 75 as the temperature in Florida where we just left. Hence the Crowded House, above. But perhaps I am getting a little ahead of myself.

Okay. So. Okay. I was in Florida for three weeks and I got paid too much money. Okay. So. Okay. There I got to be called a Master Artist, along with the writer Jessica Hagedorn and the visual artist Jane Hammond. And in a very loosely structured environment I was some sort of mentor (spelled L-I-K-E-A-G-O-D) to eight composers, all of them rather good, and quite different from one another. So far, so good. Amy D came along for the ride for the first week, and I actually imposed a structure: let's all write a beginning of a piano piece (homework! I immediately got a reputation as a badass), we'll then talk about them all after Amy plays them ... AND ... a different composer has to write what comes next. Hey, it was the Walk A Mile In Someone Else's Shoes Thing, and as far as I know that never works. Except this time. It was such a collegial bunch of composers, despite their aesthetic differences, that it worked, and there was plenty to say about everything. If anything, this was a group that liked to talk.

After Amy left (she got bronchitis, scheduled and then cancelled a recital of tangos, and had to go to NYC for recording sessions), it became less structured (which made me a goodass), and everyone presented their work for the benefit and scrutiny of the others. This was, too, collegial, with only a few ill-tempered outbursts -- never for ill-tempered reasons. Meanwhile, I did at least one hour-long private meeting with each composer each week (I said not to call them "lessons" since several of the composers were now out in the real world having actual careers -- one composer suggested "play dates," which became the norm, at least in my head) in the remaining time. I calculated that between group and private meetings I met with them 54 hours while there, which is probably not a record, but it IS a multiple of 3. It was only after I got there that I realized I was expected to be doing my own work, too. Jessica spoke in the first week of having a "breakthrough" in her new novel (at which time my sketches were still in the computer bag, folded in half -- which made them six inches).

So this work thing presented a slight problem. There were more composers there than available working pianos, and I had to yield my piano to Amy for practicing while she was there. But given the obscene amount I was being paid (there were several actual obscenities on the check -- I lied, just the amount itself was an obscenity), I didn't feel at all guilty about not doing my own work. Cool. Thank you. But once I figured out that my piano trio was, in a way, about my cats, then the drama was pretty easy to figure out -- the chords, not as easy. (the rhythm of purring is easy, the chords not so much so, especially when in counterpoint to the petting of the cats, which has its own speed and harmony)

So let me backtrack a little. Actually, you don't have a choice, since I technically backtracked long before you read this. So there, smarty pants. BEFORE I went off to Florida to take on the mantle of "Master Artist," our Thank You Rewards from Citibank arrived -- two $100 Staples gift cards and a $50 gift card. I believe this information was in the May 13 update. That weekend I looked at the Staples circular online, and the color laser printer about which we'd been drooling was $200 off that week, and the Laser Jet (black and white) 1012 was half price. So with our gift cards we went out and got ONE OF EACH -- meaning the 1012 laser printer was a hunnert bucks, and the color printer, once the gift cards were applied, was fitty bucks. Amazement and shock. Awe, too. Both are still in boxes, unopened. But soon they will be in use, Oscar, soon. The color LaserJet will be for home, and the 1012 a traveling (artist colony) printer.

And then there became an acting Chair. Yes, Doctor Keiler filled in for me while I was gone, though it didn't seem as if there was a lot for him to do after commencement. Commencement! I missed the department degree meeting where Honors are awarded and voted on! So I don't even know who graduated with honors, etc. And the commencement itself was on the first of, I guess, six consecutive cold and rainy days in this area (I was in Florida with a box of schedenfreude for all of my friends), at which people froze almost literally. I might mention here that where I was it was 89, not too humid yet, with a forecast of scattered lizards. I brought way too many socks and long pants, as stretch shorts and flip flops were my preferred wardrobe milieu. And I hardly every get a chance to use that many vowels in a row. Neither did Cardinal Richilieu. But anyway: I gladly renounced, for a short time, the Chairman cloak in favor of the Master Artist one. The second one requires a nonrefundable deposit, which was okay because of all the lizards. But of course I am not making sense.

On Monday the 16th (Milton Babbitt's 89th birthday, as if you cared) we got up early so I could catch a limo to the airport for a noonish flight -- but at 7:30 Maynard Door and Window called to ask if it was okay for our long-ordered storm windows and basement windows to be installed that day. Which was cool, because the owner came over to instruct his workers, and I got to be all pompous-ass and reveal that I was about to go to Florida for three weeks to "work." And the black town car pulled up while the windows were being pulled out of the truck. And there I went.

I took Delta Song flight 2018 to Orlando, and Delta Song flight 2018 back -- since it's a cut rate airline, they apparently save money by doubling up on flight numbers. I went on the 16th, Beff on the 21st, at which time I picked her up using the morceau de merde Ford Focus that the Atlantic Center rented for me (as I was, after all, a Master Artist). Delta Song gives you 24 channels of TV on monitors on the seat back in front of you, as well as pay per view movies (including Beach Blanket Bingo -- you'd PAY to see that???), pay games, and a trivia game that kept score of everyone in the plane playing. The old lady sitting next to me did quite well, but the one game I played all the way through I was the winner, and had the highest score for the whole trip. And just because I knew such useless facts as Coco Chanel's first name. Amy and David Smooke (old friend, also a composer Associate) and I hooked up at the American baggage claim in the airport and we figured out which one was Jessica Hagedorn -- the writer master artist -- and got in a van driven by Jim Frost. I had a three-year history of e-mailing and talking on the phone to Jim, and based on his job and his voice I pegged him for a Wally Cox type. Wrong, kimosabe. He looks more like the crew chief than Underdog. And he flung all of our heavy suitcases way high over the back seat of the van. Insert "heavy lifting" pun of your choice here.

On the first night all the Associates and Master Artists got together in the Commons for dinner, introductions were made, I found all the composers I had accepted except for Del and Aaron, we set a schedule, and introductions were made. That night and the next afternoon everyone and his grandma presented something of their work (I played DVD movies of Amy playing Martler and Fists o' Fury), and it was a wide swath of aesthetics represented indeed. I'm sure I liked just about everything, though remembering 21 names was a bit much for me that night. To make matters more complicated, the Associates started giving code names to each other, only a few of which stuck in my newly pea-sized brain: Fabio for Felipe and Stu for Aaron, among the composers.

With Amy around the first week, I actually assigned homework (the whispering about that was vast and I almost slipped on it once) -- write a piano miniature beginning. After Amy played through the beginnings and we talked about what was there, I made them trade beginnings and assigned continuations which were played the following Monday. The one started by Jenny and finished by Fabio ended up being the most talked about, as its composers were from different ends of the aesthetic see-saw (here I insert the obvious upcoming pun about how they balanced). Meanwhile, the composers were working on other things, too, and needed pianos. Of which there weren't enough. So with a lot of harassment, Nick Conroy managed to spread some pianos out over several buildings and people seemed to get LOTS of work done. Amy, meanwhile, needed a piano, too, for her tango recording coming up, so she had my cottage when I wasn't teaching in it. And teach I did, seeing two of the Associates four times each, and the others on average three times each.

I was charged to do outreach twice -- once with Jessica at a gallery in New Smyrna Beach (the locals give "Smyrna" three syllables, confirmed by the prosody in a jingle we heard on TV: "Suh Mirn Ah.") and once with Jane at a private home with a lot of valuable art in it on a lake in Orlando. Otherwise the only times we got out -- did I mention a lot of teaching? -- were a beach party at the home of Ines, a foray through the Merrit Island Preserve, a dinner at a famed seafood restaurant near the beach, and an afternoon trip to St. Augustine (founded 1565, they say). The Master Artist cottages were connected to the other buildings of the Center by a long and occasionally slippery boardwalk, across which many lizards scurried as humans approached. (the lizards were mating, so occasionally you'd see one stuck there bobbing his head as if pumping his body, and his neck ballooning way out, and being red. Not for a minute did I ever wish I could do that). Some were chameleon like, with bits of blue or red, and some were uglyass, like frogs. I made it an obsession a few times to get pictures of some, and apparently I was one of the few who succeeded in that task.

On weekends we had to fend for ourselves for meals, so the two Sundays included big composer parties at my cottage -- Fabio made salmon (he didn't treat the "l" as silent) in the first one, and James made spaghetti in the second one. Jessica's Associates also were at her cottage both of those times, so the parties intermingled. And I learned more names.

So at the end there was the usual presentation of work for each other and for an invited general public they called Inside Out -- as if the patrons were going to get to see my stomach and pancreas but not my belly button or kneecaps -- and several composers had work to present: James's Night Music was played by Stu and Beff, Stu (Aaron Einbond) played a couple of piano "microtures," and Suzanne played the Jenny-Fabio piece. Various writers read parts of screenplays, plays and novels. I played a tape of a Violin Song. And then we got to go to the visual artist studios to see what people had been working on. At the end of it all, Jessica held the farewell party at her cottage, and Beff and I exited casually about three and three quarter hours before we were slated to awaken. Much wine was had, especially as everyone brought their last surviving alochol from the residencies. And we looked at the closets in the music and writer cottages, which had been signed by most of the Master Artists who had passed through.

All in all, it was a very fun gig, I was still paid obscenely after giving Amy a quarter of my "honorarium," the weather was really humid (which I like) and occasionally rainy (which I don't like), the very different composers seemed to have bonded rather nicely, and I got to use the bathroom whenever I wanted. All in all a big success.

We set the alarm for 3:16 on Sunday morning, and left with Smooke at 4:15 for the airport. We were ready in plenty of time, and I remarked that we could have slept all the way to 3:20. The flight was eventless, we got back here around quarter to noon, and the lawns were very, very unmowed. After unpacking, I went out and did all the lawns except the back yard -- that's an hour and twenty minutes -- and couldn't help noticing that it was about 90 degrees outside (ironically, it was 75 in New Smyrna Beach at the time, according to Earthlink) and sunny, sunny, sunny! All the windows were opened for air (especially the new two storm windows), Beff cleaned the whole house, and the cats were slow to emerge from the attic. Since their emergence, the cats have been very needy, following us everywhere and occasionally issuing long and plaintive meows. Both of us have been heard to utter "What?" a lot in response. Ken and Hillary left a family of five's worth of leftovers in the fridge, and I can't wait for them to take it back with them -- they are coming over tonight for seafood, so they better not leave empty-handed. I believe they left a large bowl of fava beans, which I have been snacking on liberally.

Already, Chair stuff has intruded, but I try to keep a straight face about it. I know who the next Chair is going to be, but nearly no one else in the department does. I drove in to Brandeis for Chair stuff, and there was very little of it. I spoke to the Fred C. Hecht Professor of Economics briefly, and came back. Now it's blogging time, as we say in New Suhmyrna Beach.

This coming weekend is a multifaceted one: a concert of me in Princeton Friday night, Take Jazz Chords Make Strange at the Chelsea (NYC) Art Museum on Saturday and then at the Dia:Beacon on Sunday. Meanwhile, Beff has a performance in Manhattan on Sunday. And we drive back to Massachusetts on Monday, which also happens to be my birthday (I am 329 dog years old that day, though I don't feel a day over 328). And next Thursday I begin jury duty. Joy of all joys.

I'm sure that this week's readership will be almost nineteen -- regular readers plus the eight ACA Associates, so I'll list their names here because it might actually give them a thrill: Suzanne Sorkin (working on a piano trio, soon to move to Philadelphia), Jenny Olivia Johnson (writing a Pierrot plus percussion piece, is at NYU), Aaron Einbond (writing a two percussion piece and piano microtures, enrolled at UC Berkeley), David Smooke (in Chicago finally finishing his U Chicago dissertation), Felipe Lara (writing an orchestra piece, hails from Brazil and enters NYU in the fall), Del Case (teaching at Eastern Nazarene College and BC), James Wiznerowicz (writing clarinet and piano piece, starts on the tenure track at VCU in the fall), and John Aylward (writing a piece for Wellesley, is enrolled at Brandeis). The "here's you" thing I do with John became quite popular amongst the composers -- as did A Certain Quietness and a few other things. Eventually we became quite the wacky bunch.

Today's picture collection is legion, as it represents highlights of three weeks. We being with ACA flora: a passion flower closeup, and red lichen that was on some of the trees. Next, Amy in the van in the trip from the airport, and Amy with David Smooke doing Kilroy. Then the composer cohort except Del at the first group meal, and me with Jessica during the intermingled party which followed. Then, a lizard shot, and shot of the "road tattoo" done by one of the Associates, Steed, in a road just outside the ACA. Next, a circular we encountered on Sunset Drive, Fabio pouring Ines the "girly" Brazilian drink that would eventually make him barfmachen, the seafood from the seafood dinner, the six of us eating the seafood (shown: Aaron, James, Beff (hidden), Felipe, and David Smooke), a bunch of people sitting outdoors at the seafood restaurant, two pics from St. Augustine, and a picture of the beach. Yowza.

JUNE 20. Breakfast this morning was Shaw's toaster waffles with real maple syrup, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner was grilled swordfish puttanesca with corn and salad. Lunch was Chunky Chicken soup and blackberries. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 48.7 and 91.8. LARGE EXPENSES this last are none. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Fiona Apple's "Red, Red, Red." POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was in sixth grade, it was decided that I would play in the second trombone section at the District Music Festival -- a high school festival in the BFA gym that year. I kept my parts and got a reel-to-reel of the entire concert, and used to entertain myself by playing the tape and playing along on the second trombone part. Which, now that I think of it, gives me an added sense of my parents' tolerance for such things. That tolerance reached the breaking point in high school when I wrote a pretentious piano piece that had a right-hand ostinato in parallel fifths and when I was practicing it, my mother finally asked me to stop. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Why did Ainsley have to leave West Wing for CSI Miami? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Smuttynose hefeweizen, Porino's antipasto salad (comes in a jar), homemade no-cook gazpacho. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none, but Cammy knocks Beff's glasses -- in their case -- onto the floor at least once each morning. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the length of your lips, two of that other thing, a can of lawnmower oil, cheese from Amsterdam.

My special day (boithday, compleanno, anniversaire -- I am SO-O-O multilingual) last Monday ended with Ken and Hillary arriving with a bag o' spices and a bag o' ribs. While Ken made a speecy spicy barbecue sauce, from scratch -- even using honey -- we had a conversation about...well, I forget. Ken stuck two racks of ribs on the upper racks of the grill, Hillary shucked and foiled some corn on the cob, and the grill got started. Soon we lighted and took an OFF thingamabob out to the picnic table, where the OFF thingamabob failed to deter even one mosquito from our area, brought out the corn, and ate it right then and there. Meanwhile, grease fires ranged rampant on the grill, as the ribs dripped grease pretty liberally, and Ken and I spent plenty of time blowing them out -- my lower brass training came quite a bit in handy there. And Ken seemed to be able to blow pretty well, too, even though he was a guitarist, not a wind player. He blew in short bursts, and I tended to actually get a note when I tried to blow. In any case -- we had to keep going back to the grill to blow, blow, BLOW and eventually the ribs got a bit charred, and cooked much faster than was the original forecast. So we served the ribs and Bubbies pickles in the dining room, and they were magnificent. It was the LARGE jar of Bubbies pickles, and they disappeared in what seemed to be a heartbeat. Ken kept mumbling that the ribs were burnt (at least I think that's what he was saying), but I thought they were great. Later the combo of the ribs and the pickles gave me a nice long ride on the porcelain pony.

And they even brought a 329th birthday present -- cheap plastic flamingoes, which we immediately installed on the front lawn midst the hostas. They have to moved when the lawn is mowed (to use the passive voice cheaply, but effectively), but that rings true for the hammock, Adirondack chairs and picnic table, too, and they carry a similar value. Well, maybe a sentimental value. I made sure to put a picture of them, below.

On Tuesday I had to go into Brandeis for real Chair stuff. Well, I lie. I didn't go in because I am Chair, but because I am on the committee to hire a new academic administrator for the department. Which I am on because I am Chair -- two degrees of separation. The weather had been hot and sticky and generally unbearable for almost a week (going from the air conditioned bedroom to the bathroom at night through the hall introduced a big jolt that was bound to resuscitate), but a back door cold from came through on Tuesday while we were doing the interviews. There was, indeed, about a 35-degree temperature swing from when we started the interviews (noonish) to when we finished (4ish). Lower 90s to upper 50s, for those playing along at home. The interviews came down to two favorites and some haggling in the future, but there are yet two more to interview this week. Oh joy. My favorite. After the interviews, Carolyn and I rather dramatically imbibed some beer I gave her long ago (BF -- Before Florida), and I came home and made dinner. Which was, I think, just a frozen pizza I stuck in the oven.

The weather has been stuck in early spring mode since that backdoor cold front. This global warming thing sucks big ones. Them What Make, however, have routinely been off by about ten degrees each day in their high temperature predictions. Tough weather pattern and all that. Wednesday's high was about 51(!), just a day after Tuesday's 92. How 'bout that! Way too hot for a bike ride, and then way too cold for one. Them what make had predicted 78 for yesterday, and it didn't make it past 63.

For those of you playing the Home Version of our game -- as of today, ten days left of the Heaven on Earth I like to call My Chairmanship. Next week I will give the numbers in hours -- perhaps, if I am feeling whimsical, in dog-hours. Incidentally, there was a time in this space when I mentioned that a job in Santa Barbara may possibly offer an escape from my Heaven on Earth -- it was someone named Clarence Barlow that they hired. In the meantime, I got a day-late-and-a-dollar-short e-mail from at least one administrator thanking me for my Heaven on Earth. Rather than press the point, I responded "Thank you." I forgot to say "Cool" first. But then again, I don't follow protocol with administration types.

The pollen count has been high. So sayeth the Them What Make page in a scrolling banner every day for the last several weeks. Usually, that place is reserved for Special Weather Statements, like it may get cold tonight or somebody saw a person standing next to a river get wet. But in this case, and in this area, it's been somewhat like a scrolling banner stating that most people expect it to get dark tonight. When we returned from Florida (that's in the southern United States in the Eastern Time Zone), I drew a Kilroy on the trunk of Beff's car -- in the pollen which had accumulated in rather a thick blanket. In fact, the pollen is everywhere -- on our bike rides through the Assabet train path, all the former puddles have yellow outlines where water used to be, and every single leaf of every single tree in the area has yellow spots. Not from malaria, but from clumped pollen (malaria would just be silly). I am accustomed to thick pollen at this time of year, but this year is especially thick. In fact, on Tuesday morning before I went into Brandeis, the wind was blowing and it looked like a sand storm in the stand of pine trees. Thankfully, I think the pollen is no longer being manufactured anew in those volumes. Instead, the horseflies are now active on the Assabet path.

We took our first giant step into being old this week. Beff had been to the eye doctor for a new prescription because her eyes don't match -- one being nearsighted and one being farsighted (there is a joke there, but I'm too tired to go and find it) -- and her new glasses were delivered this week. She looks positively bookish wearing them (what really does "bookish" mean, anyway?), which she does to only to read in bed and, occasionally, to drive. Meanwhile -- we are saving up our grocery shopping in $25 increments because Shaw's is doing another one of those "spend $400 before June 30 and save 30 percent on a shopping trip in July" promotional things (again), and whenever I have to go to get items for dinner, we naturally pad in order to get another "$25" stamp on our envelope. So the padding items are normally things for which Beff has clipped coupons. On Thursday while Beff was collecting coupons for me, she actually had me come downstairs to read the expiration date for a coupon because "I can't read it without my glasses." That I can do so without reading glasses, yet, just means I must be some sort of freak.

But even though we're old, we still dig Fiona Apple. About 20 million people, as far as I can tell, have downloaded tracks from her upcoming, or is it?, album, and a friend sent us what he or she had managed to find on the internet. Which makes us the twenty million first to have it. When the album comes out, we will certainly buy it -- it's some of the finest, freshest pop music I've heard in quite a while (not that I'm setting the bar ("I've heard in a while") very high), and it certainly tends toward compound meters a lot. Lemme tell ya, when I dislike music, I really hate it, and when I like music, I like it a lot. So pardon my effusiveness. Or bite me -- your choice.

It was too hot for bike rides, then too cold, then on Saturday it was just right. So we did the Boon Lake ride, which includes me carrying dog bones for Max and other various and sundry dogs we encounter. This time I brought the Sony camera and took a little movie of the two of us doing the Assabet rail bed part of the ride, with Beff in front. Click on "Biking movie" at the top of this page to see that (it's a QuickTime movie). It's not really all that interesting. I will work on getting a good movie of Sunny jumping, soccer goalie style, to make up for that.

Most of the weekend was spent painting -- well, actually just a few hours both days. We scraped -- actually BEFF scraped -- and I painted a bunch of windowsills and trim around the house, including the columns on the front and back porches, and a bunch of the trim on the side porch, which REALLY needs a lot of attention. Beff also repainted the top edges of two drawers in the kitchen where the cats like to scratch while waiting to be fed. Both of us got plenty of latex paint on various parts of our hands and clothes (including my baseball cap), and apparently I got some on my lower lip and two of my front teeth. Sorry, I didn't take a picture. I guess I thought the Crest whitening strips would be just too slow. Rim shot. Okay, no rim shot.

But hey -- there was mondo civic duty this week, as I had jury duty on Thursday. I had to drive to Framingham, go through a security screening TWICE, wait around reading a book for three and a half hours (after watching a seventeen minute video on being a juror in Massachusetts -- Margaret Marshall, who spoke at Brandeis commencement, even though she is from South Africa, speaks with an accent that makes you think South Boston a lot more than it makes you think South Africa -- learn your R's, Margaret), and then being summoned with about 20 other prospective jurors into Courtroom 2. We were introduced to the plaintiff, counsel and witnesses, the clerk drew seven names randomly, and mine was one of them. The "PhD" on my juror information card didn't disqualify me (dammit), but one juror from the original seven was challenged. And then there was a 3-hour trial (4 hours when lunch was included) with an assistant DA as the litigator -- who, given the case the Commonwealth presented, could have passed for an intern. The lawyer for the defendant could have passed for the guy who lulls you into buying too much insurance. And the chief witness for the Commonwealth was a former music major from Clark. As the jokes about that flew in the jury room, I kept my mouth shut (mostly). Suddenly, with none of the glamour of LA Law, the trial was over, and the judge appointed me jury foreman. Wow, Chairman and Foreman at the same time. Where was my hard hat? Intense discussions in the jury room -- slightly larger than a room needed to hold a seminar table for exactly six people -- revealed that none of us thought the Commonwealth had proved its case. So I got to be the one who responded "Not Guilty" to the clerk on both counts (see "I was Foreman"), witnessed an emotional outburst by the plaintiff who didn't understand that the jury was just doing the facts, ma'am, and I was home in time to make dinner.

Ten days to Chair Emeritus status, even though that rank doesn't officially exist. The new Chair is to be Mary Ruth Ray, and I meet her this afternoon to give her the lowdown on being Chair. She insisted on the 3-year term, even though the Fred C. Hecht Professor of Economics only asked for one, so we are good to go. Eleven months from now, she will be advising the Dean of her recommendation for my new salary. Meanwhile -- soon I will be collecting paperwork to start the search for Yehudi's replacement. Believe me when I say -- we have no idea who is going to get this job. One of my colleagues (a second violinist type, we shall say for the sake of the example) asked if it was conceivable we might hire Osvaldo Golijov. To which I responded why would he leave a situation with tenure where he doesn't have to teach for a position without tenure where he actually has to teach -- and indeed has to be prepared to do all the sexy new courses that brings the department into the present that nearly all my colleagues are too fat, lazy, old, or some combination of two or three of those, to do? And why are my sentences so long?

Fluoxetine hydrochloride dosage is goin' DOWN! I'm down to 10 mg every other day, to cease in the fourth or fifth day of my Chairmanship Emeritus status. I will have about two months' worth left over, for anyone who wants them.

Thanks to double-five Jimmy Ricci, I have two new gmail accounts. I originally wanted them in order to receive e-mail attachments larger than 10 megabytes. I have been burned in the past by Earthlink's limitations. Each gmail account (ziodavino at and uncledavy at gmail) has a 2 gigabyte mailbox, and my e-mail program looks there automatically. But now I see Earthlink has upgraded my mailbox to 100 megabytes. So I can get the big ones in any of those locations.

I did not report on my semi-yearly physical exam a week and a half ago. You should know that I didn't gain weight in Florida even though I should have, that all vital signs are normal, and that the blood tests show normal levels for everything. The prostate exam -- okay, the part where the doctor goes gerbil fishing -- was characteristically embarrassing AND painful. So when I told some of my administrative colleagues that the notion that "the academy does not appreciate that which it is that I do"was not pulled "out of my ass" (yes, I said that) -- the doctor couldn't do that, either. Um, uh, rim shot. Uh, all he got was the glove that he was already wearing.

After eleven months -- okay, ten and a half -- the Marines finally got it together to send me a rehearsal tape (from last July 21) of the many-clarinetted arrangement of "Martian Counterpoint" that I did for them (it was originally the fourth movement of "Ten of a Kind"). There were caveats from Jason, its conductor, about it being a rehearsal, tempi, players, etc., but it is hot, hot, HOT. Not only have I written the hardest band piece ever, I also have written the hardest 22-clarinet piece ever. I rule.

And Signal to Noise magazine's summer issue is about to come out. Indeed, it may already be out, I just haven't seen it in stores yet (see Barnes and Noble, Tower Records, or Newbury Comics to find it). For you see, there is a feature article about me written by Christian Carey in it. And I now have seen the opening graphic for it online -- you, dear almost eleven (twelve?) may, too, by clicking on "S to N" above and to the left of this text. Hard to believe that all 76 pictures of me taken for this came out so bad that just half of me is showing on this one. I know what is in the text of the article already, so there won't be any surprise there. Guess what -- somebody else thinks I have a sense of humor. Finally.

All of today's pictures were taken on Saturday -- now that I think of it, the only stretch longer than ten minutes when the sun was out this week -- with the Sony T-1 camera (as was the Biking movie). We have the new flamingi from Ken and Hillary followed by an EXTREME closeup of a carpenter ant on the canoe (note all the pollen, and very old mold, in the cracks -- the stick in the picture is actually a pine needle). Next we have Cammy preaching to the choir, and looking on the inside while Beff paints (feeling left out, obviously). Then we have Sunny in the dining room window, and both cats chilling out on the back porch. Next two more extreme closeups -- caked pollen on a leaf, and a really, really tiny flower hidden in the grass. Then is the causeway on Boon Lake, from our bike ride, and Beff about to coast down that causeway. Finally, we have a garbage/trash receptacle from Maynard (apparently they don't mean exactly the same thing, hence the slashed terminology for those them what may be confused) and a closeup of Beff's thumb after painting the drawers in the kitchen.

JUNE 27, mid afternoon. Lunch was two lowfat Hebrew National hot dogs. Breakfast this morning was fresh-squeezed orange juice, coffee, and a bagel with lowfat cream cheese. Dinner/lunch yesterday was corn on the cob with I Can't Believe It's Not Butter spray, and a few lean burgers off of the grill. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 50.4 and 96.8. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include a duplexing copy machine, $300 after rebate; lots of Inko's ice tea and some spices from an Asian foods online seller, $167; a citrus juicer and some silverware at Crate and Barrel, $42; four new place settings, $129; books and CDs at amazon, $72. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Fiona Apple's "Extraordinary Machine". (I am trying to determine if the second chord over flat-2 is a French sixth or simply the Neapolitan with a flatted fifth) POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My third year in graduate school, Joe Dubiel taught the composition pro-seminar, and to be different he tried to do something that never, ever works: have students analyze each others' music. I remember John Gibson writing a chord on the board for someone's piece and saying he thought the whole piece was based on that chord. I did something similar with a piece by Jody Rockmaker, and graphed the piece in an A-B-A-B-A form. Then I said, "and that makes it..." and I twiddled my lips with my finger to say ababa.... Years later, Jody remembered this moment, but for some reason I didn't. On a separate occasion, Beff came home after a grad seminar looking pooped and frustrated, saying "I can't get any empathy for my point of view." I said, "I know exactly how you feel." THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Why didn't I know about Inko's tea before this? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Grant's Mandarin Hefeweizen, Porino's olive antipasto, hamburger dill pickles, Bubbie's pickles, Inko's White Tea. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none, but Cammy obligingly knocked my glasses off of the nightstand this morning. SOME BIRDS NOTED THIS WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE: mockingbirds, veerys, Downy woodpeckers, Carolina wrens. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a pooper scooper, that which the pooper scooper scoops, a fire hydrant painted green (or orange), the plastic wrap on an individually wrapped slice of cheese.

HEAT WAVE! Actually, last week's temperatures overstated the low temperature for the week, which had been 45.7 degrees last Monday morning, a full two degrees lower than what I reported. I apologize if any lives were ruined because of it. But today is the third straight day where in Maynard the temps are above 90 degrees. The forecast for today is 82, and it is 90 as I type this: yesterday's forecast was 86, and it reached 97 (almost). Saturday (94) was predicted to be by far the hotter of the two weekend days. Them what make had their usual level of accuracy. So because of the extreme temperatures in the afternoon, Beff and I have been taking our bike rides in the morning, and I'm pleased to report that yesterday we embarked on our longest programmed ride: the one that goes by the Minuteman Airport and through West Acton -- and has two pretty considerable hills. Beff doesn't like hills. I like them in moderation. I am hoping soon to do the nature preserve ride again, our second longest one, and with the biggest hill of all the programmed rides. If there is a call for it, I will reprint the list of programmed rides and how long they are -- yesterday's ride was about 14 miles.

Last Monday night, Dewek came over and took us to Korean in exchange for a meeting about the piece he is about to write for BMOP. I'm pretty good at reducing compositional problems to the simplest description, so after the long description of the quintet embedded within the orchestra as a soloist, banding of sound around a cantus firmus, and heterophony in the orchestra, I said, "you mean you want it to suck." Actually, I didn't say that. I said something more like something this ambitious will be great if it works, and still it won't be appreciated by the culture at large. I am doing everything I can to precipitate that existential crisis. Nonetheless, it seems to be a strikingly original idea, and in exchange for saying that I got the chicken ginger dinner. I also didn't bring up that Derek never compensated me for covering for his Walnut Hill classes in December, 2002 -- now I guess we're finally even.

There was a slow warmup through the week. And I went into the office twice (including this morning) to help arrange the academic administrator's office, along with Shawna, Carolyn, and Big Mike. Beer was had by all. Index cards dating to the early 60s and general exams dating to 1975 were among the many things we discovered still taking up space. We filled 4 barrels with trash last week and 2 this morning, and sort of gave up on what else to discard: that will be up to the new Academic Administrator. Oh yes, and I went in on Thursday as well to do interviews for the academic administrator job. And also on the oh yes front, I went in yet a separate time to give Mary Ruth her first lesson in what to expect as Chair. I did my duty to defend our low-enrollment courses for the fall, did my usual lefty railing how calling a class with an enrollment of less than 8 "low enrollment" violates the educational mission and turns Brandeis more into a corporation, but it seems there was a subtext to that statement. Hmm, I wonder what it could have been.

And now, dear almost TWELVE (welcome, Carolyn), I am pleased to report that I become, officially, Chairman Emeritus (actually, unofficially, since there is no such title) in 560 dog-hours from the time this page is posted. And remember that a dog-hour passes in less than nine minutes (this must be why they like bones so much).

I had been to Barnes and Noble in Shoppers World a few times to check if they had the summer issue of Signal to Noise -- as there is a substantial article about me written by Christian Carey in it. On Friday Beff and I decided to take a little trip to Harvard Square, incidentally looking for the magazine in Newbury Comics and Tower Records, and, as it turned out, the Coop. I purchased multiple copies in Newbury Comics and the Coop (as I have to give some out to various administrative and media people at Brandeis), and Beff and I did the other stores and shops in the area, as well. At Crate & Barrel I saw a citrus juicer that I knew I had to have (the stainless steel exterior must be what did it), along with an olive fork and some porcelain spoons for hot and sour soup. Meanwhile, it occurred to me that I liked the three-tine forks we have, and we probably needed some more. So we looked in the store and didn't find anything to our liking. Then Beff got a red dress at a nice place near Crate and Barrel, and we walked slowly up Mass. Ave. towards Porter Square (we had driven to Alewife and parked). Meanwhile, Beff took some movies of urban/traffic in Harvard Square and on Mass. Ave. to use in her next video project. I thought they looked nice. Up Mass. Ave. we stopped in the Vintage store and didn't find anything to buy. Then we stopped in Porter Exchange, I got a few powdered soups and some dim sum at the Japanese grocery store, and saw Yoko (Nakatani!) there. She is moving to Attleboro for the summer. And Beff and I ate at a Japanese restaurant in the little restaurant cluster, where I ordered ice tea on a whim. We got "Inko's" white tea, and both thought it was marvelous. So marvelous that when we got back, I ordered about 80 of them online -- after which I discovered that Shaw's sells them, too (so I got all 8 that they had). Anyway, we made it back. Beff found flatware that we both liked online, and we ordered it.

On Wednesday we drove into Northampton to see David Sanford at the Northampton Brewery -- we do this at least once a year. Because we like him, and we like hearing stories about marching bands and the Pittsburgh Collective, etc. We always like to do the shops in Northampton (because it is such a small shopping area), and I even happened to see Fred Lerdahl and Louise Litterick in one of them, from a distance. They are a very domestic couple. And I bought a chef's hat. Because I will be a celebrity chef, once again (Chair Emeritus, dontcha know) at the September 20 School of the Arts barbecue. Then there was the beer and (of course) some wings at the brewery, ice cream at Harrell's, as usual, and back we went, on the northern route (Route 2).

Saturday I got another one of those insatiable cravings for wings, so I called Big Mike to see if he wanted to do lunch -- as I kind of have to take him out to a meal for doing our cats on short notice every once in a while. I got Sweaty Betty wheat beer (dunno who makes it), and Beff got Old Speckled Hen, and Big Mike got a tuna melt (what he always gets) and a triple chocolate cake (he must have known I was paying). By the way, we always do lunch at the Horseshoe Pub in Hudson. In case you were playing along at home.

Yesterday (HOTTEST DAY IN TWO YEARS! PROTECT YOUR SKIN! PROTECT YOUR CHILDREN! FOR GODS SAKE DON'T PANIC!) Sam and Laurie came over for what was to be a bagel brunch with us and them and Ken and Hillary. I had thought it was to be Monday, and so did Ken and Hillary, so it was just the four of us. We didn't start until 2, so I got stuff for an outdoor barbecue, and that's what we had, dagnabbit. That, and beer. And Inko's Tea.

Today, back into Brandeis. Took some Signal to Noises to Brandeis. Did some more cleaning out. Looked at how much paperwork I'll have to do for the junior search coming up. And when we tired, I went home. Big Mike actually brought a microwave meal with him. And I brought the bagels that Sam and Laurie had brought but we didn't eat because we were doing a cookout.

And this morning it occurred to me that we needed to finish dealing with our technology needs before I go on half salary (that starts Friday -- a perk of being on unpaid leave in the spring). So I looked on the Staples page for a copyer that could do double-sided copying, AND which had auto-feed. And there was one at $200 off. So we ran for it. Tomorrow it is supposed to arrive, or I'll be a matey with which you can swab the deck.

Tomorrow Beff takes the Camry in to have the brakes checked. I had driven the Camry to Northampton, and was dissatisfied with the way the car shimmied and the car made noise when I braked at high speed. Wednesday, weather permitting, Carolyn comes over for a very early morning canoe ride on the Assabet. And Friday we drive to Burlington, Vermont, taking the scenic route -- Route 100, which I try to do every year, and which we never got a chance to do last year. We get back Monday, the 4th (I hope nobody else with a car has the same idea).

There is also a feature in Signal to Noise about a funky improv group called "Erroneous Funk". Which wouldn't have interested me so much except that the woman in the group, Renee Coulombe, studied composition with me at Columbia in 1989-90. She is now a brunette instead of a blonde, has had her doctorate only two fewer years than I have, and teaches in Riverside. I put a link to her web page on Home of this page. Meanwhile, I also added a link to Rick Carrick's page. And I opened my eighth allotted Earthlink account and got 10 megs more of web space to put a few more tunes up there. You have to hunt around for a link to that page, which is not on this page. I have made and compressed two cat movies: Sunny jumping after stuff, and Cammy batting at some dripping water in the bathtub. And I made a movie of the bike ride downhill on the Boon Lake causeway (twice I tried to give a sense of the view). Click on the links to the left to see those movies.

Meanwhile, a mere eight pictures this week. A picture of the Signal to Noise article (buy it yourself, don't ask for a free copy) and this morning's fresh squeezed orange juice, fresh out of the new appliance. Next, Beff and David Sanford, and something I don't even know how to describe, in Cambridge. Then Sam with beer and Laurie with hammock and Georgia. Then there's me in new chef's hat, with spatula, and a better picture of the lawn flamingi that Ken and Hillary gave us -- the Sony camera made them too light, and the Coolpix 4500 gave color that was truer. Also, it was sunnier.

JULY 5. Breakfast this morning was Morningside Farms meatless breakfast patties with nonfat cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was salad and mozzarella balls that were marinated in oil and basil. Lunch was, for me, the Zesty Chicken sandwich at Applebee's in Keene, New Hampshire. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 52.5 and 90.3. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include stuff at amazon for Beff, amount unknown, and some songs purchased from iTunes, $7.92. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Valerie" by Steve Winwood. In fact, it's been going through my head a lot since I happened by it on MTV2, and I'm going to use the chorus in my soon-to-be-legendary "teach-in" next month -- it emphasizes scale degree 6 in the verse, returns to it in the chorus, then eases to scale degree 7 as an ornamentation of scale degree 6, and wails, finally, on the tonic three times at agogic accents: and each time, the harmonization is vi, meaning non-completion. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: when she was in high school and getting an allowance, my sister routinely sent me to Lester's to pick up candy for her. My fee was always a nickel, and at the time, a nickel bought a candy bar or a popsicle, or five tootsie rolls. My quandary was what to do with my nickel. I was enough of a regular there that eventually they let me buy cigarettes for my mother (always Pall Malls). Who quit in 1967, by the way. The other quandary was whether to stay on the streets (Lakeview Ave. and Messenger Street) or take the shortcuts through peoples's yards. This quandary no longer happened after the time I was bitten by a dog while I was doing the shortcut. The dog's owner blamed me. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Is there a post-chairmanship depression? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Bubbies pickles, hamburger dill pickles, sugar free popsicles, olive antipasto. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none. SOME BIRDS NOTED THIS WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE: pileated woodpeckers, blue jays(!). INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a popsicle stick, next year's fashion, a headless body in a topless bar, some snot.

CHAIR AND CHAIR ALIKE. The Oh Happy Day news of the week (of the whole year, and, perhaps, decade) is that as I type this, I am not the Chair of the Music Department. For the next couple of months I play a purely advisory role, letting Mary Ruth in on all the minutiae of Chairmanship that my predecessor failed to clue me in on. There's still stuff I haven't told her -- like the inspired mess that is our graduate composition seminar structure and the disagreements between the Dean and the composition faculty on how they should work (don't get me staaahted...). But you see, I am already thinking too deeply of this stuff, and that is devoutly not to be wished. There is actually one Chair duty left to me, and that is a meeting of the four creative arts chairs (theater, music, fine arts, creative writing) tomorrow to discuss new titles for non-tenure track faculty, and I agreed to participate, since this meeting was supposed to happen in May. As Fred Flinstone was known to say, Ugh. Chairmanship Emeritus status for me also means that from here on I will refer to the Dean by name (which is Adam). You may have noted that on "Home" of this page, where I come from we "don't bear grudges".

DE-PILL-A-TORY I'm going for the Gannett Newspaper all-caps pun headlines at the start of each paragraph, just as an experiment. Almost twelve, I am sure you are nearly as bored with the device as I am. Nonetheless, I shall press forward. Today, I took a fluoxetine hydrochloride, and that will be the last one. The box has been retired. Meanwhile, on Saturday night a CNN report said that doctors have been warned that antidepressants -- rather in opposition to what they are for -- can cause or augment suicidal tendencies. I am here to report, without giving specific examples, that the people warning the doctors are correct. Fluoxetine hydrochloride, get thee away from me. I would make a little cross with my index fingers (I am quite fluent with dramatic but pointless physical gestures), but it would mean I couldn't type.

CLOSE TO YOU That one's a New England expression, I am told: when it's humid, the locals say it's "close". And it's close now, even down in the Glenn. Our wild and wacky weather has continued, with a nice and comfortable dry spell coming just in time for our trip to Vermont. Of which we shall hear soon. Meanwhile, it may be close, but it's been almost bone-dry in terms of precipitation -- despite the drizzle in which we departed on Friday. The level of the Assabet is going down, and little brown spots appear on the back lawns. Coolness is forecast for later in the week -- as soon as tomorrow.

ROWING VS. WADING In the last throes of my Chairmanship, I excused Carolyn from work on Wednesday morning so that she could come out here and all three of us indulge ourselves in rural sports. Beff walked the Assabet rail trail, parallel to the Assabet River, while Carolyn and I canoed it. And the night before, to prepare, Beff and I hauled the canoe into the back yard, got all real medieval with Formula 409 on its ass, and scrubbed it heartily with scrubber sponges -- so it looked much nicer. Beff's side got a little cleaner than my side, something she was only too eager to point out. I did not remind her that it was not a competition, because I wanted her to experience the joy of winning something pointless. Next week: she finishes a beer before I do.

CATS'LL REPORT And the cats have been quite needy since we returned, last night, from Vermont. As Martler will recall, Cammy likes to follow you until you seem to linger a moment, then plop himself down on the floor. He has been doing that in many, many locations today, as has Sunny. Meanwhile, Beff thought their parallel naps near the porch last week was worth a photo. You will see it below. Justin and Melissa, who housesat over the weekend, seem to have gotten along with them just fine (they also ate all the sweet potato potato chips -- in case you ever needed to see an actual sentence with the word "potato" twice consecutively). Beff also cracked open a new Trader Joe's cat scratcher for them and seeded it with catnip -- Sunny, in particular, went crazy for it.

PULLED BY THE ROUTES Our drive to Vermont took us up Route 100, which is a very scenic stretch going through the spine of the Green Mountains -- if, indeed, mountain ranges can be said to have backbones. I like to try to drive the stretch between Route 9 in the south up to Waterbury in the north at least once a year, and last year we didn't get around to it (I was too busy waking up early with panic attacks about what it was going to be like to be Chair). So it was quite a welcome drive; it progressed from drizzly to hazy sun during the drive, and we stopped at the bigass country store, as we always do (free rest rooms). You can still buy slot hockey games there ($105) and Rock 'em Sock 'em robots. If I had bought either, I'd REALLY be having that midlife crisis. We stopped around 1:30 in Waterbury for lunch, and the brew pub we seemed to remember was not yet open: so we proceeded a few doors down to WATERBURY WINGS. Which had just what you would think they would have. I got hot (which were a LEETUL hot for me, but I made it), and Beff didn't get wings at all. We also tried beers by Shedd Mountain and Otter Creek on tap, which were just dandy. Vermont's a good place to find beers -- almost as good a place for that as it is to find New Yorkers.

SALLY FOURTH And then was the arrival at Beff's dad's camp on Lake Champlain in the north of Burlington. Up there, summer-only homes are called "camps" (not because of the kind of drama they prefer), and it is just a few hops (no skips -- too many sharp rocks) from the camp down to the actual lake, where there is a beach shared by many of the locals. Twice during the weekend (Saturday and Sunday), Beff and Ann (la soeur de Beff) and Jack (le fils d'Ann) spent substantial time on the beach and in the water. Beff got more color than I did (she brought an extra tint button), but we got equally wet (you don't want to know how we measured -- or why). Meantime, we got to participate in the local area's yearly Fourth rituals, including a 4th of July parade (which was on the morning of the 2nd) and a tennis tournament (of which Jack won the kid's division). A nice weather front came through Friday night producing much wind but no precipitation at a pot luck at a local house, after which the temps actually got into the 40s at night. Beff and I had to deal with a "camp" type bed. At first we did not use any covers, but when it started to cool down, Beff said, "would you like some sheet?" I was transported back to the drug dealers from Argentina during my undergraduate years. Actually, it so amused me that I was actually lacking a comeback.

BIKE'LL ROW THE BOAT Ann has stored her high school-era bicycle at the camp, and their brother Matt has left one of his there, so it was possible to take long bike rides on the nearby rail trail, paved and converted from a railway that once connected Burlington to the north and to the island. On Saturday and Sunday we got even more sun by taking the bikes out first to the left (Saturday) and then to the right (Sunday). On Saturday we went toward the causeway of the section that crossed the bay to the islands, but didn't make it all the way owing to bugs and a guy with a kid ahead of us on a very narrow stretch. All that time, I took pix and movies -- so many that the 512meg card filled up: later I also filled a 256 meg card. My urgent need to document knows no bounds. Since I had Ann's old bike, it had the old style seat apparently made of granite. After an hour and a half on it on Saturday, I had a butt-ache. And I made no secret of it. So before we stepped off on Sunday, Beff asked me, "How's your butt?" This time I had a generic comebacker: "If I had a nickel for every time somebody asked me THAT...."

FIRE IN THE SKY A true highlight of the weekend was the actual Fourth of July fireworks in downtown Burlington, and we actually managed to get an excellent viewing point. I had never had such an unobstructed view of fireworks before, and these went on and on and on and on.... Like the chamber music of Dvorak, there were a lot of short volleys that fizzled, several volleys that promised the climax and didn't deliver, and FINALLY -- when some people were actually starting to leave -- was the climax. I took lots of pictures and even some movies -- hence filling up the 256 meg card. We drove back during the day on Monday after the kid's division of the tennis tournament was over, ate at Applebee's in Keene, and, well, there you have it. I checked my phone messages while driving through Randolph, Vermont, and there was a message from David Russell wondering how to get a part for Hyperblue. I made several calls saying essentially that it's hand copied and only the publisher has those. And then he left a message saying all was well. A

COPYING A PLEA The copy machine made by Sharp and purchased at Staples about which I reported last week was defective. After we got back, I had to make some copies of a score so I could send it back to Michael Lipsey. And every copy was very light on the top fourth or third or so. Surprisingly, on the fourth of July, someone was at Sharp technical support, and after a bunch of experiments that only he knew about (press copy/tint/copy/tint, enter 13, press copy, for instance) he determined it was just a faulty printer. So I called Staples to see if they had any more for an exchange, and they directed me to the Natick store. Where I went this morning to make the exchange, and YES! the new one works fine. Or at least it seems to. While in that area, I got more cat litter, cheese, mocha drinks, and stuff at BJs, some CryBaby tears from a vending machine at Best Buy, and the new Get Fuzzy and Fox Trot collections. Anyway, I am pleased to report that both Sharp and Staples passed the test with flying colors (what would "frying" colors be? brown and white?).

THE SHAW'S SHOP REDEMPTION Persistence and lots of purchase of impulse items or items intended for far in the future paid off today. Over the month of June we spent $500 at Shaws, in various increments of $25, and were entitled to 20 percent off one shopping trip between the 1st and 10th of July. So we got $220 in groceries -- including all the Original flavor Inko's ice tea they had -- and got $44 off. I shudder to think what our hourly wage for all that shopping thus works out to.

THE GRILL OF A LIFETIME We finally opened the portable Sunbeam grill that Ann got us as a present in order to assemble it and bring it to the Adirondacks next week (where we will be wid' Hayes and Susan, proud owners of a new Red Pearl Corolla), and after doing a bunch of assembling, realized four very major pieces were missing. I called the tech support number and reported same, and they sent out the missing pieces -- I hope they are the right noes -- which arrived while we were away. After this is posted, we try to see if we can finish the assembly. I am skeptical, since last year I got a Sunbeam air conditioner whose temperature knob was broken when I opened it, and the replacement knob sent was the wrong size. Actually -- Sunbeam has not had a good track record here.

WATERSHIP DOWNLOAD After lingering on MTV2 while it played the old video for Steve Winwood's "Valerie" from the 80s, I kind of realized that the chorus had a structure I could use to teach; and I looked for the song at Strawberries in Acton, which had no Steve Winwood CDs at all -- and this dude doesn't appear on any of the 80s compilations, either. So I actually created an iTunes account and downloaded it. Yes, I entered the downloading era with not only a splash but a belly-flop. iTunes is enabling the next stage of my midlife crisis, since I then went back to it and downloaded more stuff -- after which I listened to it on the hammock. Other tunes downloaded include Our House, Owner of a Lonely Heart, You're Still The One, a Bruce Hornsby tune, and Sinister Minister by Bela Fleck. After the two of us happened by the new Gwen Stefani video for Hollaback Girl, Beff couldn't get the tune out of her head ("tune" here is kind of relative) -- we even heard it on the radio as we traversed the most rural portion of Vermont. Upon our return, I downloaded it -- alas the version I got is sanitized. But I intend to use it in class in the fall, someway, somehow. 'Cause you always gotta use something current in order to live up to an e-mail address like "TheCoolOne". Boy, it's been a long time since using "Borderline" made me cool...

IT'S NOT HOW LONG IT IS, IT'S WHAT YOU DO WITH IT As implied last week, I have the mileage statistics for our customary bike rides, which will now be a yearly feature of this spot. And here it goes:

West Concord – 10.5 miles

West Concord back way via Gropius – 10 miles

West Acton with cutoff – 9 miles

West Acton without cutoff – 9.75 miles

Boon Lake circle – 10.3 miles

Boon Lake doubling back – 9.8 miles

Boon Lake via 27 – 11.1 miles

Boon Lake roundabout on 62 – 12.6 miles

West Acton via Minuteman Airport – 11.5 miles

Nature viewing area -- 11 miles

Arboretum via back way – 12.6 miles

Baby ride by Shaws – 5.6 miles

We haven't done the Arboretum ride in some while because we both hate all the traffic on Route 27 between K-Mart and the arboretum. But some day....

THE WAR OF BLOG Lou Bunk -- a Brandeis ABD -- is now one of the composer bloggers on the Sequenza 21 web page, and he is doing his best to be wacky. It's actually refreshing to read, instead of "Carter IS TOO one of the great living composers, you nimrod!", things like "Chocolate. Mmmm." In his initial post, Lou said he'd told Derek Hurst of his upcoming blog, and he reported Derek's response imprecisely. Lou left open the question "why do we blog?" to which many responded, including Derek appearing to clear his name by pointing out how severely unnuanced was Lou's report. It was very entertaining, and I kept wondering if everyone participating was trying to win something. For I do not know how these things actually work.

THE FUTURE'S SO BRIGHT I GOTTA WAREBROOK. Upcoming events include dinner in Brookline with the Ceelys tonight (always an entertaining proposition -- as Bob Ceely makes me look shy and reserved), a trip to the Warebrook Festival in northern Vermont over the weekend (where a big swath of the history of Brandeis will also be), and several days in the Adirondacks next week with Hayes and Susan. We will be on Adirondack Lake. What an original name.

CONCERTO DE CAMERA So we have two QuickTime movies this week, with links to the left of this text block: Sunny cat scratcher shows Sunny a little high on catnip, and Malletts Bay Causeway shows a little bit of the bike ride along the bike path north of Burlington. Remember how much my butt was hurting at the time, and you will be ever glad. We have eight pictures below. Lazing kitties followed by one of the fireworks from Sunday night in Burlington. Then we have Friday's and then Saturday's sunset from the lake near the camp. We follow that with the parade we saw (it was over in a few minutes), and Beff at WATERBURY WINGS. Finally, Angel Falls on Route 100 and me at WATERBURY WINGS (I knew the camera was pointed at me).

JULY 10. Breakfast this morning was coffee in Coventry, Vermont, at Greg Djanikian's summer home. Dinner last night was pepperoni pizza and UFO on tap, followed four and a half hours later by salad with Italian dressing. Lunch was two cheeseburges with fried onions at Warner's Snack Bar in St. Albans, Vermont. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 53.6 and 87.6. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include lots of Inkos teas and other various foods, about fifty bucks, and every time I filled my gas tank. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Hollaback Girl," Gwen Stefani. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: when I was about 8 and the family was camping, I was trout fishing with my father near Island Pond, Vermont. Three times he hooked a big fish, and then handed me the pole nonchalantly, saying, "I'm not having any luck. You try it." And of course I immediately pulled in a fish. For many years I thought I had done the good fishing that day. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Does the melody still linger on? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: olive antipasto (still), jalapeno-stuffed olives, fried onions, small tomatoes. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Franconia Notch in New Hampshire. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none. SOME BIRDS NOTED THIS WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE: pileated woodpeckers in Vermont, white throated sparrow, Eastern wood peewee. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE an early version of Wordstar software, three junk bonds, a piece of toilet paper recently unstuck from someone's heel, the number "5".

I have just driven back from the Warebrook Music Festival in northern Vermont, where my Hyperblue was performed, where I made a side trip to Warner's (where I worked in high school), and where it was Brandeis Old Home Week. I have just now finished mowing the way back lawn, wearing a black t-shirt while it's 89 degrees out, and Beff and I visit Hayes and Susan on Adirondack Lake in the vicinity of the village of Indian Lake in upstate New York starting tomorrow. There is no time for a proper update today, but I will be back in another week for a full two-week report.

Meanwhile, be sated with two pictures I took at Warebrook: Jay Eckardt and Marilyn Nonken, and me with Greg Djanikian (a poet who teaches at Penn whom I have overlapped with at Yaddo all four of my times there). THERE ARE ALSO LITTLE MOVIES this week, including a brief view of Franconia Notch in New Hampshire as I drove through it, a car accident I passed on Route 93, and Marilyn Nonken nevously posing for a picture, not knowing I was just making a movie (see titles in yellow text on left, below).

JULY 16. Breakfast this morning was Boca meatless breakfast sausages, lemonade, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner was chicken kebabs and appetizers, etc. at Bombay Club in Harvard Square. Lunch was olive antipasto. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 61.2 and 90.0 (in Maynard). LARGE EXPENSES this last week are some books at the Harvard Coop, $80 or so; bug masks, $16; chart of mushroom species, $6; dinner at the Bombay Club $75 for two; drinks afterwards $20 for two; West Wing seasons 1 and 4, $90. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Do It To Me One More Time", which I presume was The Captain and Tenille. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: in graduate school, Jody Rockmaker and I made up a song making fun of Walter Piston's Harmony textbook (not yet updated by Mark DeVoto) by changing the words of Tom Lehrer's "National Brotherhood Week." And it kinda went like this: "Oh the 3 chord/Goes to the 6 chord/And the 6 chord/goes to the 4 chord/And the 4 chord goes to the 5 chord/And it all goes back to 1/We're doin'/Piston's Harmony/Piston's Harmony/It only takes a chord or 2 to find another key, so/Come on and modulate/Don't you think that it's just great/Anyone can do it/Any time." COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY RECENTLY include Staples, Cuisinart, , Earthlink, Sharp Electronics. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY AND THEN SOME this week include Inko's White Tea. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: What do salamanders do in the forest? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: olive antipasto (still), marinated shish kebabs, hamburger dill pickles, and, as always, Inko's White Tea. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Various stuff deep within the Adirondacks. MONEY DOWN THE DRAIN THIS WEEK: $30 for a Cuisinart citrus juicer. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none. SOME BIRDS NOTED THIS WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE: include a pair of common loons, ducks, a seagull, and hawks. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a blank CD-R, a raging case of adolescent acne, two pieces of moldy bread, a sewer grate.

This is an update covering nearly two weeks of events, so be patient with me, almost twelve. As y'all know, I went to the Warebrook Music Festival last weekend because HYPERBLUE was performed on the third of the four concerts. From Monday to Friday Beff and I were visiting Hayes 'n' Susan at their summer cottage rental on Adirondack Lake in the town of Indian Lake, New York. And besides all of that, there was even a meeting at Brandeis to report in this last twelve-day period. So let's get down to brass tacks (or with them).

After the return from Vermont, there were lawns to mow, cats to feed, laundry to do, etc., and do that we did. On Wednesday I sat in on a meeting with the Dean, a member of the creative writing department, and, by phone, the Chairs of Fine Arts and of Theater. The subject was something to do with contract faculty (non-tenure track), and it was that rare meeting where something actually got done. Later, I encountered our new Chair, and met with her 45 minutes to go over more stuff about being Chair, and other various and extremely tedious Brandeis details that somebody has to think about and I'm glad it is no longer I who has to think about them.

Meanwhile, Beff and I went our separate ways a week ago Friday. Beff went to Bangor in order to start moving back into our house there and to meet with some faculty and students. I went to Newport, Vermont in order to go to 3 of the 4 concerts of the Warebrook Music Festival. I took the only route I knew: up 93 through New Hampshire to 89 to 91 in Vermont. I stayed in a hotel on Route 5 to the east of Newport with "Pearl" in the name (I'm terrible with names, as some of you almost 12 may have found out), which was also where Yehudi Wyner, Susan Davenny Wyner, Marty Boykan, Susan Schwalb, and Allen Anderson were staying. And, lo and behold, there we all were at dinner on Friday night at the hotel. Dinner was delicious, but I had to leave a little early. David Cleary was also in town for the festival, was staying at the Super 8, had no car, and found me in my hotel room to ask for a ride to the first event.

So we rode together to the first concert, in the town hall of Irasburg, Vermont. It was a typical meetin' hall type building, with a stage and fairly large room on the second level, and a large room attached to kitchen-type stuff on street level -- this is where the reception was held. There was an upright piano available for the concert -- one on which you could actually hear each note going out of tune as it was played -- and it did wonders for, for instance, Curtis Hughes's piece "Avoidance Tactics No. 1". As far as I could tell, the performance of that piece was pretty good, even though the lack of harmonic change in the second half of the piece kind of annoyed me. All in all, of the three concerts I attended this was the least interesting musically, though the performances were obviously very good. There was an existing string quartet who played a piece of unmitigated vomitous crap by a local composer that was notable because the cellist looked a lot like my brother. I imagined what it would be like if he also talked like my brother and had the same vomitous crap taste in music, but I didn't get a chance to test my theory. For you see, he was very good.

As anyone from Brandeis knows, Sara Doncaster runs the Warebrook Festival, which is a buttload of work all year round, and she came up to me about fourteen times per minute to ask, "are you enjoying it so far?" After a while I wanted to change my answer just for the sake of variety -- or say something that was a non sequitur (like "why not ask a moose?") but I knew that would precipitate further discussion. So I said yes every time. Most certainly the music was very well-performed.

On Saturday the remnants of tropical storm what's-her-name passed through New England quite slowly, so downpours were the rule in the morning. And this is the time I had pre-chosen to visit my hometown of St. Albans -- only about 55 miles to the west of Newport, but on twisty roads that go through at least two mountain passes, so the drive time was an hour and 25 minutes each way. First I visited Greenwood Cemetary for the first time in about 20 years, where I got some pictures of my parents' gravestones -- in the pouring rain. This was followed by a trip downtown, where I got a portable blacklight (I can actually use it to verify that new $20 bills are genuine!) and four more prisms for the kitchen window. Then to the local supermarket to see if any new gastronomic obsessions were pending, and I did get a few things to try out (including a jar of jalapeno-stuffed olives for Justin Rust). Then I had lunch at Warner's Snack Bar, where I had worked in the summer of 1976. Of course the proprietors, Paul and Jackie are still doin' it (running the snack bar, that is), and they gave me another free t-shirt. Then I drove back in yet more driving rain (so to speak).

The afternoon concert was at the memorial library in Newport, and it was very, very good -- pieces by Allen Anderson and Marty Boykan in particular were fantastic. A local Mamlok scholar had unearthed early sketches from Ursula's student days for violin and piano, and these received their premiere: they really belonged securely back in the sketchbook and out of sight. Spencer Schedler, a grad student at NYU I knew, actually popped into town for this concert (he was accepted to Brandeis but chose NYU in order to be closer to his now-former fiancee, who was studying at Peabody at the time). And the performances were fantastic. Before the concert, there was a reception/lunch at a health food store two doors down from the library, and I went in looking for the crew -- I had gotten Max a cheeseburger from Warner's, and didn't know I'd be presenting it to him in the context of a health food store. There I sat for a little while shooting the breeze with festival people. And afterwards, Jay and Marilyn and I went back to try some various things. And then I drove to Shaw's to see what they had, and I got 15 bottles of Inko's White Tea, which was on special. Love that stuff.

The evening concert was at the high school in a very nice hall with a very nice piano, and it was preceded by brief talks by Sara (her big dissertation piece was the second half of the concert), me, and the Mamlok scholar (again, I am bad with names -- Wiener sticks in my memory but I am trying to get it out). The Mamlok talk was a pre-written paper that was read out loud much as seventh grade book reports are read in class -- I was glad to hear a bit of Ursula's history, and her sextet of 1976 was on this concert. It actually is a great piece, and in the talk she was described as being "at the height of her creative powers" when she wrote it. I started lusting after an accolyte to write about whenever it is, was, or will be, that I am at the "height of my creative powers", and hoped that that time was in the future and not in the past. Back on topic, I was thinking that for the student pieces, Ursula was at the depth of her creative powers. Rim shot.

So the concert was actually quite fantastic, Hyperblue was done quite well, and I got to know David Fulmer -- who played violin -- a little. He is in the Rolf Schulte mode of extremely expressive with the body moving in all directions as he plays -- occasionally getting up out of his chair to make dramatic gestures for the benefit of the ensemble. Only two places where the trio got off, but hey, there's a million notes in the piece. As far as I can tell. And Sara's piece was about a half hour setting of 12 Yeats poems, it had expression, a sweep, and a point, and it was quite refreshing. Always nice to hear Brandeis music that doesn't sound like Brandeis music ("like most of my recent pieces, this one is atypical").

Dinner was actually paid for at the East Side Restaurant in Newport afterwards, and there we all were. I bought Max two beers, brought him and Leslie to their car afterwards, and then went home and to sleep. In the morning, back to Maynard where we had to get ready for our next big trip, to the Adirondacks. Mowing the way back lawn in the 89 degree sunny weather is a byotch. But I diddit, I diddit.

Early Monday morning we packed up and drove all the way to Indian Lake: 117 west to 495 south to 290 west to Mass Turnpike to 87 north to 9 north to 28 west to Adirondack Lake Road. We stopped for lunch in Warrensburg, which is where you get off 87 to the two-lane roads. And I had rather good Buffalo wings -- an idea that came to me when a 125-year old woman already in the restaurant was having some. The TV in the restaurant was playing ESPN2 "target games" -- lots of shooting at targets and at skeets. Surreality ruled.

Upon making it to the ranch-type 2-bedroom cottage on Adirondack Lake, we watched Hayes and Susan eat, then drove around just a bit. We took a short hike into the woods nearby, and the deerflies were pretty annoying. Muy annoying. That night Susan and I cooked chicken for lunch on an old, rusty grill on the porch. And we methodically went through some boutique beers that Beff and I had picked up in Groton. And we watched episode 12 of Wonderfalls. Then went to sleep on our crunchy bed.

On Tuesday we began by driving to the Lake Store and getting those bug nets that you wear over your head; we already have four of them, but neglected to bring any along. What we got here were bug nets with a pair of metal hoops on the inside, not unlike wearing hoopskirts on our necks. And when we moved to our first substantial hike, we were all very glad to have them. That night we ate at a restaurant in Indian Lake, where our waiter had an eastern European accent, and then decided that the food was the opposite of delicious. Afterwards, the final episode of Wonderfalls. Several of us, especially Susan, kept referencing various tchotchke lines from Wonderfalls, especially "lick the light switch."

Wednesday was the most active of the days: a substantial hike with a steep incline at the end; a visit to the Adirondack museum (an old rustic summer hotel converted to house large exhibits on canoeing, horses, birds, furniture, etc.); and the purchase of a book by a local artist about a chipmunk. We spent some time giving chopped walnuts to a local tame chipmunk that Susan named "Chippy". And then there was sitting around the dock, where the flies liked me and nobody else but me.

Thursday began with a huge and windy thunderstorm: our planned even bigger hike had to be scrapped. After the storm was over, we drove to North Creek, where we got some various tourist things, and then Beff and I rowboated on the lake a little -- this is where we saw loons in a pair. Upon our return, I made the shishkebabs, and what it is, too. Friday morning we left at 8, got back here at 12:30, and had a LOT to do to get ready for the next phase: Beff's two week stint at the U Maine summer music camp. She leaves probably before I post this today. Last night we drove to Alewife and parked, walked from Porter Square to Harvard Square, went into various stores, and had dinner with Lee Hyla and his wife Kate. Much was discussed, including Lee's upcoming stint, October 2006, as Master Artist at the Atlantic Center. Pictures were shown, people were used. And then we drove home.

The Cuisinart citrus juicer that I had purchased at Crate & Barrel on June 24 was being used again to make lemonade and limeade -- as it's what we do. And halfway through the third lemon it simply stopped working, as if the motor burned out. When we first got it, I made orange juice and the lemonade and limeade, etc., and Beff burned the box -- in order not to clutter the attic even more. Which meant that I couldn't return it (while veins on my forehead were bulging, I hastily made a new house rule that we don't burn appliance boxes any more before their warranties expire). Which was fine, I guess -- it kind of sucked, anyway. If you pressed on it enough to get juice from your average lime, it just tended to stop rotating. Who needs that? Beff looked online for juicers and found a whole bunch, and bookmarked them. It was amusing that the first one she bookmarked was a professional juicer for only $7200. We still haven't decided what our next choice will be, but it sure was hell on my right wrist pulperizing limes after the Cuisinart broke.

And the not exactly covered in glory stuff? Well, they've been fun. The Inko's White Tea we had at Cho Cho's restaurant in Porter Square was so good we found it online and their webpage directed me to . When no progress was made on this simple order, I contacted customer service to ask if there was a projected ship date: there was no response. So I cancelled the order, which you have to do via e-mail. Also no response. Meanwhile, the Sharp photocopy saga with Staples has been entertaining, as well. On July 5 I tried to make copies and the top third of each page was very light. A call to Sharp got me a very nice tech guy, who led me through many steps to see what might be wrong, and the conclusion was: bad. Take in for refund or exchange. So I called the Acton Staples, who had no more in stock; but they nicely directed me to the Staples in Framingham, which had one for me. So I drove there and exchanged it, and upon returning had an e-mail from StaplesEasyRebates: you returned your rebate item, so we CANCELLED your rebate. A long call to Staples assured me that the exchange was incorrectly entered into their computer and the rebate was reinstated. This Thursday another e-mail: your rebate was CANCELLED because there was no UPC enclosed. Uh ... um ... so yet another call to Staples got the rebate reinstated, and I got a confirming e-mail telling me to expect it within 10 to 15 days. I'll believe it when I see it.

We checked e-mail a couple of times in Indian Lake, but since there is no local dialup access number, I had to look up Earthlink's 800 access number. A bunch of recursive pages on the Earthlink website failed to point out even one toll-free access number: they simply said there were no local access numbers in Indian Lake, and I could find a toll-free access number ... somewheres ... So I called Customer Service. Who said "I can't give you that number. But here's the number of the office that can. They won't open for 45 minutes." Uh, boys and girls, can you say Earthlink get your act together? Meanwhile, I got boilerplated not once, not twice, but three times by Earthlink for having dared look for an 800 access number online. With lots of helpful text about how to keep Earthlink if you move and how to configure your modem, etc.

But cancelling all that out was Inko's Teas. The stuff is great (we have about 40 of them in the house right now, and I told Justin when he was housesitting he could eat anything in the house except the Inko's), and the company is new and very small. I had written in this space about how great they were, and one of the co-owners, Googling Inko's, came upon my page, e-mailed me, asked where I was buying the stuff, and offered to send some free tea AND A T-SHIRT my way. Now that's classy. So let me evangelize for Inko's: it's great, the company is great and small (like all things), and now I really have to go to the bathroom.

This week's movies are up there to the left in yellow text, as before. The little movie of Marilyn Nonken posing for a picture was so popular that I left it up there for another week. The "Rain" movie is of the thunderstorm we experienced Thursday morning, and the "Deer" movie is a singing deer at the outside place we went for lunch on Wednesday (I have mercifully excised the sound). As to pictures, they are legion, so bear with me. The first three are of people at the Warebrook festival, including Jay Eckardt (who did not take the redeye), Leslie and Max and Tim and Jay at the health food store, and Jay licking Marilyn Nonken. The covered bridge shot is on the way to Greg Djanikian's summer place in Coventry. Next, Adirondack shots: forest mushrooms, the other of our cohort on a hike, Beff reading on the dock, and a cumulus cloud at sunset. Next, two displays from the Adirondack museum. Next, my parents' grave markers. Finally, a lake view from the Adirondack museum followed by a panorama from the peak of what we climbed on Wednesday.

JULY 25. Breakfast this morning was Morningside Farms meatless breakfast sausage patties with melted 2% cheese, fresh squeezed orange juic, and coffee. Dinner was a Smart Ones shrimp marinara microwave dinner. Lunch was two Hebrew National lowfat hot dogs. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 57.4 and 93.7. LARGE EXPENSES this last week includes a new high-end iMac with extra memory, Apple Care, and iPod speakers, $2324.83 from J&R including shipping; and the third volume of complete Peanuts together with the new Pat Metheny album from amazon, $29. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "My Airplane" by that 60s English group that had the one hit about Snoopy and the Red Baron -- the tune is a total ripoff of "Octopus's Garden". POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: in 1988 as director of Alea II at Stanford, I hired Lyn Reyna to premiere E-Machines. Since I wrote it outdoors and stayed slavishly close to my sequence of all-combinatorial hexachords, I had presumed it was crap, if funny crap. At the dress rehearsal when I heard it for the first time, I marveled that it sounded REALLY COOL, that Lyn played the doody out of it, and that people would probably want to hang out with me after having heard that piece. When the piece got to the last gestures -- competing type A hexachords, the first high and the last low -- I realized that I forgot to change the clef to bass clef for the last gesture -- strange and odd especially considering the last attack is marked "with fist" on notes with 5 and 6 leger lines. Lyn played exactly what was on the page, and it sounded SO WRONG. I quickly put in the missing clef, and sat there as Lyn relearned the ending. And I became really cool again. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY RECENTLY include Sunbeam/Blue Rhino. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY AND THEN SOME this week include Inko's White Tea, again, and Arthur Marc's hot sauces. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: What relationship does pruning have to actual prunes? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: olive antipasto (still), Inko's White Tea with key lime juice, wickles (spicy pickles), spicy olives. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK The "notch" that gave Franconia Notch its name. MONEY DOWN THE DRAIN THIS WEEK: a nickel in a Maynard parking meter and no meter maid came by. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none. SOME BIRDS NOTED THIS WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE: dark-eyed juncos. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a Mad Lib filled in for the third time, a fancy schmancy appliance for turning crappy stuff into neat stuff, a gentle breeze, a pair of tweezers with a tick impaled on them.

The most important event of the week (nine days, actually) is related to an impending calamity: the Windows computer that I use to do e-mail, noise-reduce performance recordings, and maintain this website is slowly melting down. Since Thursday, during startup it has gone to a blue screen to say one of my disks has to be checked, and when I let it run CHKDSK everything checks out, and then on restart I get a black screen saying "Bad boot disk, please insert a system disk." I have managed to get the computer to start up by skipping over the CHKDSK that it wants to do each time, but occasionally at random times the blue screen comes back, suddenly, with a message "Windows has terminated to avoid damage being done to your computer" or something like that. The most comical thing that has happened (and enervating, since I hardly ever get to use that word) was that on Thursday night I retrieved 7 e-mails -- none of them spam (maybe for the first time ever), and the blue screen shut down came up as I tried to read them. On restarting, my Earthlink mailbox no longer had an Inbox. I experimented by sending myself an email, retrieving, and seeing where it would go: it went ... um, nowhere. As if one of those Jetsons sucking sounds had happened. While continuing to experiment, I accidentally retrieved a new e-mail to ... limbo ... and have no idea who it was from. So a few people I was going to respond to now are getting no response, since I have no record of the original e-mail, and therefore no e-mail addresses. As I recall, two of the disappeared emails were from Rick Moody, one from Jan Krzywicki, one from one of the almost twelve (with the same initials as Rhode Island) re:Total Eclipse, one labeled "conversation with admissions", and two others I don't remember. So somebody is going to be really mad at me or Brandeis or both for me not getting back to him/her.

So in conclusion: Ross Perot's Giant Sucking Sound (GSS for short) was not because of NAFTA. It was the current version of my Earthlink mailbox.

So I have been a firsthand witness to how much a computer can take over your life when something goes wrong with it. I did try all the utilities I've got on hand, but of course they seem to need to access system code that's on a bad block. So Norton Utilities bombs, and the "unbootable startup disk" fixing utility that HP sent me didn't do the job, either (it did 3 years ago when I had my first problems). The Norton I own is able to make fixit discs on floppies, as long as you bring it to another computer. So I actually went to 3 locations in Maynard to find floppy discs -- which I haven't bought in about 4 years -- and only The Paper Store has them. Beff has made the emergency discs on our computer in Bangor, and in a week when she is back, I will get to try an emergency fix. Ah, but today I am spelling it "ficks."

So obviously the most intense time I spent this week had to do with Windows. And -- thanks a lot, HP -- my computer didn't even come with any Windows installation discs. How odd to purchase an operating system and not actually have one. But I digress. I look forward to a ficks.

In the meantime. Beff has been in Maine for the two-week summer music camp at the University. So she has moved back into our second house, and secured help from some of her colleagues to repair stuff that went askew in the year leave.

In the meantime, I had planned to drive to Vermont on Sunday (yesterday) to do my yearly biergetrinken with the Director of the US Marine Band (formerly Assistant Director), because that was to be combined with a trip to the Yellow Barn Festival where Soozie and Curt were doing Violin Songs. I checked the Yellow Barn webpage to see whether the concert was in Putney or Amherst, and found out two things: it was in Putney at 11:30 am(!) and the program included Schoenberg and Brahms. I think Soozie had left me a message on my cell phone that went something like "........rk....... ..... ... d ......... .. . . .......... p .... . . ........ sk ............ . .. .. a .........." and I thought it was one of my grad students doing the juvenile phone thing, until I realized Soozie had e-mailed Beff that she couldn't get a cell phone signal. In Amherst! I emailed Soozie and she emailed back that the pianist wanted to do Brahms on that concert, he teaches at Yale, so I got shoved off the concert. And the festival director was sposta tell me. It didn't happen. So to Seth Knopp: bite me, it's fun. This gave me the weekend free.

Meanwhile, Beff had her weekend freed up, too, because the people she'd planned to see -- because of my trip -- also cancelled. So as a real treat, Beff drove here for Saturday lunch through Sunday morning. So on Saturday, after the weather had suddenly cleared (in terms of humidity, that is), we wanted to go to a place to sit outdoors. We tried the pub next to the Quarterdeck, but the only available table had no umbrella -- and Beff and I are the whitest people on our block (or sunblock -- but I digress). So we walked further, to the Blue Coyote Grill, where we sat in the only shady part of their deck. And the table was very high compared to the chairs -- the table was at chest level and it was just like eating out of a high chair. So of course we had to milk the irony by having beers on tap (Long Trail Ale, Sam Adams Summer, Sierra Nevada). And we also did calamari (surprisingly good -- better than the Quarterdeck's), I had the veggie wrap (portabello mushrooms bleed gray) and Beff the lettuce wrap. We did TWO bike rides (Boon Lake, and the Cemetary loop), Beff made the place look less like a bachelor pad, we had breakfast, and she went back to Maine. And dinner was chicken sandwiches, which is normal.

So without an event to go to on Sunday, I called the Lieutenant Colonel at all his possible numbers to reschedule -- even a voice mail where he identifies himself as "Major." That one was so stale it actually smelled. And he got one of them, so we rescheduled for Thursday. That was my Fun Day.

The cats got me up at 5 on Thursday, I fed them, dealt with the Windows meltdown, and got sulla via at about 5:50. I decided to try the Route 93 route through Franconia Notch to St. Johnsbury to Newport and then through the gorgeous mountain passes in Jay to get there. I stopped for gas and breakfast, and later, to bring Inkos tea from Shaws Newport. From 10:50 to 1:00 we had our four beers each along with lunch (makeyerown sammiches), and I brought my entire percussion collection: train whistle, siren whistle, two vibraslaps, flexitone, four finger cymbals, two maracas, ratchet. And I brought the Dyna Mike. Usually both of the kids make voluminous noise with the instruments, but it was only Jack, going solo, and mostly heterophonic. I successfully predicted the exact moment at which Jack would start playing the instruments through the Dyna Mike. And I gave a copy of the Signal to Noise magazine to the family, who showed me a one page feature on the Lieutenant Colonel in the Washingtonian Magazine. He actually had to respond to questions like "Favorite Composer" (Sousa and John Williams -- he insists the original question was "favorite march composer" and I said I always thought of John Williams as an April composer -- rim shot) and "Favorite Patriotic Holiday" (July 4, duh -- are there any others? Nancy suggested he should have said Bastille Day). Then for 2 hours it was just shooting the breeze in deck chairs, looking out at the lake, and noting the peals of childish laughter coming from Jack and Claire, who were now in the lake.

Winifred -- the Corgi -- was of course glad to see me (he forgot to put a gun in his pocket), but seemed quite reserved most of the rest of the time. He must be getting old, with those little sticks of legs, etc. And at 3 I embarked on my way back home, this time trying my usual route -- to 89 in St. Albans, catching 93 in Concord, etc. -- and I made sure to stop at Food Town (or whatever it is called) in the old railroad yards in St. Albans because they had Wickles that caught my fancy, and a very good olive antipasto. As I entered the Route 89 ramp, I called Ross. And we talked until Waterbury. The route via St. Albans is a half hour faster, so it will continue to be my route. Though DAMN, Franconia Notch is gorgeous.

Work-related stuff happened, as I met with the Dean on Wednesday morning to get the ball rolling on our search to replace Yehudi. The committee is more or less formed, there are forms I have to fill out, but meanwhile I got authorization to advertise it. Deadline is October 1. And I started e-mailing my contacts at various doctoral programs to spread the word. We still need an outside person for the committee and a Diversity Rep (whose main task it is to certify that the applicant pool is diverse), but thankfully we have the authorization to go ahead. And then my favorite part -- talk with an Associate Dean about the money we can spend on the search. By the way, the search is for an Assistant Professor, tenure track, doctorate required. Spread the woid.

And on top of that, I started AND finished a piece, which turned out pretty hot, hot, HOT. I had casually told Mick Rudy (my name for Rick Moody this week -- I don't know why, either) in e-mail that I would soon be on the hunt for new etude ideas, and he said all he had was do something with Tower of Power licks. I said there were copyright issues on that, but that there were enough licks that were part of the basic language of funk (I hate myself when I talk this way) that I could probably set up a funk etude with them. And so I did. I beat the six-day requirement by one day, and sent the piece to my Hot Pianist Spam List, along with the MIDI. And of course the piece is dedicated to Mick Rudy AND it is listed on this website. Two more and I've got another whole book, and that will make Peters glad. This etude was #68, meaning that, owing to the laws of cardinality and ordinality, the next one will be #69. I have an e-mail from Ken Ueno offering to commission #69 with various requirements, including it be a crab canon, be retrogradeable and loopable, and include a quote from "I Touch Myself." I've always dreaded what would happen when I did number 69, and now I know. Oh yeah -- and the title of #68 references both the first and last episodes of Sex and the City: Absofunkinlutely. Though I must say, this piece had the most working titles of any etude, almost all of them already used by funk groups in the 1970s. My current laugh line is that you have to grow sideburns to play the piece. Except that it's not actually funny. So to call it a laugh line is an exaggeration.

Birds do it, bees do it, even educated fleas do it. Birds in the backyard have been doin' it big time in the last several days. Normally we get birdsong from an hour before sunrise to an hour after it, followed by quietude, but lately the sounds of aviary seduction have kept the entire day tweetful. Birds in pairs (naturally) have been witnessed flying from tree to tree, using what I presume is their "let's make eggs" songs followed by the "oh baby, you're so BIG" song. It seems to be rather a complicated affair, as I haven't seen or heard the "don't expect me to do any of the housework or put on good clothes for company" song yet. Last year at this time we had a nest next to the air conditioner in the guest room with loud babies (but not oh babies), but this year we have not put an air conditioner in that window. So we are missing that part of the fun of our existence.

And it was so hot and steamy for most of the week that I had to use the Klavinova in the air conditioned master bedroom to compose on. Normally I prefer the actual piano, out of tune as it may be, because I'm one of those tactile composers (it's true -- I have a membership card and everything). So now I am waiting to hear if I am going to have to write a brief and weird piece for a Philadelphia group for December 2. It's going through channels (like anyone with a good remote and basic cable does), and if I have to do it (it would be way fun) I'll report it here. Otherwise, it's back to the piano trio about our cats.

The humidity finally abated on Thursday. Then it came back. And abated on Saturday. Whoo, I'm dizzy. And now there are Heat Index warnings for tomorrow -- hey, in Maryland we routinely got head indices of 120, so this puny 100 heat index wont phase me. Though I noticed that the flexitone is rusting simply from standing still in the dining room, which DOESN'T have air conditioning. In the drier periods I got to mow the lawns and do some pruning of the bushes the edge the way back yard. I also pruned the hostas that were hanging over the front walk -- I hate excess foliage. And in spare time I started wondering about my favorite dam. Now Barry and his dad -- owners of the dog Samson -- have died or moved along, as their house is now sold. It's become clear that Barry had a hobby of keeping the path to the dam clear, since now it is overgrown. with bushes starting to crowd out even the "Where Stacy and Joe Sat" big stone hunks where it's always been fun to stand. It looks like my next project is to clear another path: I got there yesterday afternoon by inventing a back way through the woods.

This week's movies (yellow text on the left, up there) include part of my drive northwards through Franconia Notch, a pan of the dam, and evidence of Cammy's reaction when he hears me utter the word "Treats!" This week's pictures begin with me and the Lieutenant Colonel relaxing with Winnie, and Winnie herself. Then, a sign at the Canterbury (New Hampshire) rest area that seems to think that "no" can be treated ironically, and the notch that must give Franconia Notch its name (not bad for a pic taken BY THE DRIVER from a moving car). Then, a mushroom encountered in the woods on the way to the dam, the cats looking out the dining room window in the morning (the screen was pushed up), Beff at her high chair at the Blue Coyote, and a bunch of change we encountered on the way home that had melted into the tar (we tried pulling it up, but it was stuck real good, and imagined there must have been someone from America's Funniest Home Videos nearby).

AUGUST 1 -- revisions and additional text AUGUST 2. Breakfast this morning was Morningside Farms meatless breakfast sausage patties with melted 2% cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner/lunch was Davy-pizza, a cheeseburger, maybe a hot dog, and plenty of hot sauce. And beer. Lunch today was snacky chicken cooked in its twenty-third hour of marinade. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 54.7 and 95.9. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include payment to the vet, $188, payment to an emergency animal hospital in Acton, $288, Toast Titanium upgrade $99 (minus $20 rebate), Office 2004 academic edition $139, Adobe Creative Suite academic edition, $389 including shipping. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Actually, it's my ears this time, as I am on hold as I type this, and it's on-hold crap not even good enough for the Weather Channel. Last week's group ("My Airplane"), by the way, was The Royal Guardsmen. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: during my Tanglewood summer (1982), we often had performers visit the Koussevitzky mansion area, where the composers lived, normally thematically: upper string players, wind players, lower strings, etc. Normally Martler and I would make a whole MESS o' pizza in those expensive ovens, we'd serve them, and there was almost always some sort of dance party after the pizza. I remember the week of winds getting really frisky (and kind of dumb) and actually picking up some of the lighter people (okay, just the women) while dancing. Other composers did it, wind players did it to the composers, but I started it. I remembered that recently when one of the pick-upees, Liz Mann, played in the Orchestra of St. Luke's gig in June where Take Jazz Chords was done. One of these days I'll post the oh so nerdy picture of Martin and me slicing a big, big pizza. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY RECENTLY include CompUSA and Logitech. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY AND THEN SOME this week include Arthur Marc's hot sauces and Staple Rebates. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Where does the word "dill" come from? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Arthur Marc's Chicken Wing and Dipping Sauce, spicy olives, Porino's olive antipasto. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Mac OS X version 10.4 (Tiger, I guess) -- especially Automator and Widgets. MONEY DOWN THE DRAIN THIS WEEK: $159 at BJ's for a 5 gig flash drive made by Pleomax. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are a little bit of themselves, especially sunny. NUMBER OF TIMES THIS NON-CATEGORY WILL APPEAR ON THIS PAGE: 1. SOMETHING I'D LIKE TO PUT WHERE THE SUN DON'T SHINE: photographic film, and Bernard Goldberg. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE an Altoid, a disk label, a pair of discarded underwear, a 3-prong to 2-prong adapter.

It has actually been a very eventful week, and almost thirteen (or however many it is -- a bunch of new regular readers popped out of the woodwork in the last two weeks, and I'm using it as an opportunity not to count them, or to change the flippant tone of these updates), you are very lucky to see an update at all this week. My Windows computer is very nearly dead, and it was a miracle that I got it to start up at all. As I started this paragraph, I was on hold with CompUSA, from whom I had bought the computer, for 20 minutes and was then cut off. A call back got me on hold another 20 minutes and I got the nice message that I should have called a different number. Prompting me why to wonder how this world has gotten to a point where icky things like this happen to people, like me, who are very good at following instructions. I was going to say "But I digress," but to do that I would have had to been having a point -- and there's a complicated verb tense (past progressive subjunctive passive?) for you. But again, I do not digress. Here's the skinny: bad boot blocks on the windows/web page computer, sometimes it will start up, sometimes I have to go through complicated tricks to get it to start up -- this most recent startup failed about a dozen times, until I tried whistling the piccolo part to the Trio of the Stars and Stripes forever while hopping up and down on one foot, holding my nose, and thinking good thoughts about manila folders. That didn't actually work, but you see, we are back to the impossibility of digression. And its unbearable lightness. Stop me somebody.

But the real big story of the week -- actually there are two, but this one is bigger -- is Sunny's adventures in vet visits (doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, does it?). Beff was in Maine until late Friday night, so she couldn't participate in the very beginning of the Sunny Affair. Thursday afternoon when I let Sunny in for dinner, he seemed spooked about something -- normally he runs up to me and does the very cute I'm Grown Up But I Want You To Think I'm Still A Kitten thing of rubbing against the (my) legs and purring and stuff, but instead he looked at me like I'd just set off a firecracker, very tentatively approached the back steps, and when he got to his waiting food, he batted at it a little before starting to eat it. I just figured Krazy Kat thing -- after all those years when we'd hear Drip just running maniacally around the house at 3 in the morning, I figured, hey Krazy Kat manifests itself in lots of different ways. Sunny's has a few drops of paranoia.

Well. So. On Friday morning I heard a lot of pretty impressive Kitty Sneezes in the morning, the sound of Kitty-Barf-o-rama, and a puzzled Cammy looking on. After what I figured were six barfs, I called the vet for an appointment. In the meantime, I discovered four more Barf Sites, even slipping on one of them in my flip-flops. Summer is a dangerous time to have a barfing cat in your midst. So, near the appointed time (2:20), Sunny was not to be found. I rolled my eyes (later, I was to roll some dough to make pizza, and here I DO digress) and searched all the nooks and crannies. And there he was, holed up in the pump organ (or American harmonium, as our pretentious friends call it -- or they would if we had any friends). The aperture to get him out was by far at the wrong angle to do so without hurting him -- especially as he had just barfed ten times -- so I rolled my eyes again (by this time I was getting dizzy), took all the stuff off the organ, made a sound that the court stenographer would transcribe as "HrrrUMMMph!", lifted the bass side of the organ, and transferred him into a different location with my only free limbs (my feet). Nope, no kicking, just sliding. Oddly, I did not feel "pumped", even though it is, indeed, a pump organ.

So I got Sunny to the vet, and I knew everyone would be bored (as you almost 13? 14? 15? already are) if I told the How I Got Him Here In The First Place story, so I sat quietly. The vet took his temperature, which was normal, Sunny got very distressed and panted a lot, and blood work was done. I was told to feed him some bland food for a while and let the vet know if he got more lethargic. All seemed to be doing better until Saturday night, when both Beff and I noticed that his head was achieving asymmetry -- the left side seemed to be a little bigger than the right side. This doesn't happen in our unretouched photos of him. Sunday night I discovered what looked like what may be a tick or a wound on that side of his head, and Beff called the emergency animal care place near Staples in Acton. Comically, for an "emergency care" place, the wait was three hours. So at about 8 we got there, filled out paperwork and were invited to rest in our car. I took a walk to a scenic place where a house in on some flowing water and came back, and then almost slept. We were summoned at 10, described the problem, and were invited to call back at midnight: they were going to shave that part of his head and fix whatever it was they found. Speculation at that time ran rampant that he had been bitten by another cat, perhaps the one that occasionally hangs out in the garage, as does Sunny. So .. we worked on our computers as we could, and called back at .... midnight. They were just about to finish, and we could come on over.

And that we did. After we waited until 1, they brought out Sunny, now wearing a cone on his head -- I'd only seen dogs with these things, and this looked both pathetic and funny (the humor is somewhat increased by learning that it is called an "Elizabethan Collar"). Clownlike, I guess. Beff had been told they found a worm in the sore that could have grown bigger and gone for his brain (as Woody Allen called it, "my second favorite organ") and we were lucky to get it while it was still very small. What I thought I heard the vet say was that the worm was called a "cuba libre", or a rum and coke to those of us who pride ourselves on our mastery of useless information. Beff thought it was "cutalibre", hence the term "cooties." Given that it was 1 in the morning, we sure were inventive, if dumb. The info sheet said what was found was a "cuterebra," which I looked up online when we got home: a maggot, the larva of the bot fly. E

Meanwhile, Sunny was waking up from the anesthesia and was simultaneously very groggy and very distressed. He did the expected attempts to get the cone off, and kept losing his balance in doing so -- see the Sunnycone movie over to the left. We couldn't help laughing when he would fall over. The whole distress thing became old, though, as he started poking that cone into wires attached to computers, etc., so Beff volunteered to take him onto the porch for the night and sleep with him. From 2 to 5 Beff was on the porch with him, and apparently he never stopped pacing and going in circles. This afternoon I am grateful that at least he's tired now, even if it's awkward for him to try to sleep with the cone. So ... we have to ointment him twice a day for three days, and on the fourth the cone comes off. Oddly enough, next Tuesday is the yearly checkup for both cats, so there will be MANY stories to tell. And Cammy will just roll his eyes and yawn. I would.

These two Sunny events gave me a lot more empathy for people with small children, for whom similar events are far more traumatic (more shared DNA strands and all that) and incalculably more expensive. "My cat had a worm and has to wear a cone." "My daughter had strep throat." No comparison, folks. I brought this notion up to Beff, who mused, "We are great pet owners. We would be terrible parents."

Another big event of the week, in terms of time spent, is the installation of the new iMac G5 with that 20 inch screen, Tiger software, widgets, etc., and the backing up of files from the old iMac -- which was mondo time consuming. Alas, I found out much too late that files copied in OS 9 are interpreted differently in OS X, and none of my fonts were recognized as fonts, Word docs as Word docs, etc. I discovered the OX 10.4 Automator program that could, by batch, rename files to have the extensions .DOC, .JPG, .MUS, etc., and that sure was a time saver. The fonts, well, I had to get them from an OS X computer, and I did, Oscar, I did. Toast 5 could not recognize the Superdrive on this machine, so I downloaded an upgrade. My Office for Mac OS X is an upgrade and in installing it it asks you where the old version is, and I can't do that 'cause the old version is in OS 9, and this computer doesn't have it. And I finally gave up my old classic Photoshop 5 that came with my scanner, bit the bullet, and ordered the cheaper version of the Adobe Creative Suite -- Photoshop, Go Live, Illustrator, etc. It is fully my intention eventually to move this web page and all its HTML to the other computer. But patience, almost 12(13, 14, 15, whatever). I look forward to being able to code HTML with web links IN THE TEXT -- can't do that in Web Easy. Then, of course, all hell will break loose.

The next step after building up the iMac G5 was to convert the old one to Beff's DVD burning computer and move out the old 4-year-old G4. I winced as Beff mercilessly deleted big folder after big folder of mine -- always asking for permission, of course -- and installed OS 10.2 so that she could use Final Cut Express on it. Only hitch was that iLife 4 would not install (it's legal -- I got the family pack, which gives you 5 installs) because it thought iTunes, iDVD, iMovie or Garage Band was already running. Which was a lie! After much browsing on the 'net, Beff got the great idea to check the startup items, where she discovered iTunes helper. Which she disabled. So now we are both set, at least I will be when my last software arrives. A 250 gig drive sure is nice. Oh yeah, I haven't finished updating my iTunes yet -- I had downloaded "iPod rip" to transfer my entire 3700 song collection to the new computer, and it ... uh, doesn't work. So I am slowly reconstructing iTunes with the files from the Power Book G4. I sure have a lot of songs. I look forward to when the process is complete. I am also pleased to report that Widgets is cool. I get to see the weather radar immediately, get dictionary definitions, and see satellite images of any address I want. But I digress, I think.

Somehow in the midst of all that stuff I arranged the funk etude for 9 clarinets (6 B-flat, 2 bass, 1 contrabass) because I'd heard that the 3 BIGgo clarinetists of the USMB were all retiring. I was only two-thirds right. I dedicated the piece to the three of them and called it "It Takes Nine to Funk" -- the only one of many titles on Nine and Funk that passed the Beff test. And Beff and I held a big party for people from the Composers Conference here most of the day yesterday, which involved making 6 pans of pizza and having a dozen hot dogs and 12 hamburgers at the ready -- last time I had done this I ran out of food because some of the composers (Hillary, you know who you are) were having an eating contest, and they wailed and gnashed their teeth continuously about when the next food would be ready. This time, though, the weather got cloudy and coolish, the party was 11 people, and there were no eating contests. Lunch today was leftover snacky chicken, which I had not the chance to make yesterday. I will mention here that after a big beer bash like that, it takes quite a bit of effort to make oneself ready to drive to an emergency animal hospital.

Oh yeah, Font Book in OS 10.3 and 10.4 is cool. I have thousands of fonts, so I figured I'd just create some libraries with all my fonts and enable and disable them as I chose. Bad idea, kimodavy. This slowed down the computer considerably, since I figure every application that uses fonts has to read a library of 3000 of them and disregard the 2700 that are disabled. The trial version of Word started up, gave me the "Optimizing Font Menu for better performance" message and sat there. After two hours it still just sat there. So (sigh), I went and deleted all the fonts from the libraries that I am not using. I still have to get some more stuff off the old iMac, including Petrucci -- hey, the new Finale seems not to have it, so when I open old Finale files they are all lines and big O's and OE's..... I guess I should have put "Finale music" on the list of companies who have not covered themselves in glory.

So speaking of digressing, here's my stuff. Staples rebate for the copier finally arrived after having been cancelled twice by mouth breathers. Arthur Marc sent me two cases of his great hot sauce and billed me -- he trusted me to pay him! And boy do I dig that stuff. Meanwhile, the Logitech optical 3-button mouse I'd gotten for the new computer turned out to be defective. I listed CompUSA up there because of putting me on hold a long time and then disconnecting me. Inko's White Teas will be up there again when they send me the free t-shirt (I had told the founder that his benificence was like that of Sarastro, and he's probably the only beverage company founder out there who would or could have thanked me for comparing him to a character in a Mozart opera).

The old G4 is not in the why-isn't-it-my-former-office-yet while I figure out what to do with it. Sunny almost coned it over a few times. And anyway, back to rebuilding my iTunes library. Sigh. Meanwhile, as the Windows computer saga gets played out, don't grow accustomed to regular weekly updates here. For the computer sucketh. IN FACT, the computer bombed just after I typed the description of the pics below, aargh and all that. Also, f**k and s**t and OLAMBIC.

Another big effort of the previous week was an offshoot of a trip to BJ's for mass quantities of party food materials. After getting extra lettuce, cheese, artichokes, etc., I noticed on the drive home that my next oil change was due 80 miles previous. So instead of going straight home, I went to Jiffy Lube in Maynard (as Martin and I say it, JEE FEE LOOB, which is next to the GAY UH TEE gas station). With a half hour to kill, I walked over to my bank (Bank o' America -- the Irish version) and signed up for online bill paying (it used to be free for anyone with direct deposit only -- and we have that in spades AND clubs -- but now it's free for everyone. It should be, since online bill paying costs BOFA maybe a tenth of the cost of handling actual paper checks). I dealt with a pile of bills, made our list of payees and amounts, and voila -- they got paid. And online we can see what payees got how much, and see scans of our cancelled checks, and ... oh, it's too much to bear! Beff was singularly unimpressed -- I may as well have told her that I got NEW MAP SOFTWARE! until she looked herself, realized she can see in a flash what has transpired in our accounts, including checks that have cleared (this morning she actually POINTED at our payment for seafood dinner Monday night) and now I finally feel like it's a little less of a guy thing. Hey, isn't it usually a woman doing the online bill paying in the ads?

The junior composer job at Brandeis is in Music Vacancy List is posted, but unexplainably without the October 1 deadline. As of Monday, the application pool consisted of 50% men, 50% women, 50% Asian, 50% white, 50% Ivy league degrees, 50% state school degrees, and 100% first name begins with K. Pretty good so far.

I brought leftover pizza from Sunday's party to work, and deposited a bunch in the Dean's office. The Dean, in an e-mail, called it "awesome." The Dean's first name does not begin with K.

While I'm adding superfluous detail here, I spent a bunch of time Monday afternoon calling CompUSA to confirm that I was still covered by a warranty for my HP Windows computer. Comically enough, the first time I was on hold 20 minutes and then disconnected. The second time I was on hold 20 minutes and talked to someone who said I had the wrong number for what I wanted. The third time I called that new number, and ended up being forwarded to the person to whom I had just spoken. Who insisted that their office (Assurant Guaranty something or something like that) didn't have responsibility, CompUSA did. She gave me a new number. The fourth person with whom I spoke said the correct number was the second number and his office didn't have responsibility. When I explained, with tongues of fire emanating from my mouth (perhaps "explained" is too mild a word) that I had called that number already and he was the fourth (actually, third) person to tell me that I had called the wrong number, he politely hung up on me. The fifth person, at that same number, reiterated that it was the wrong number for my issue, and I was given yet another number. The sixth person, at this new number, told me I should have called the first number. This time there were no tongues of fire emanating from me as I explained that I was a little tired of the lack of people taking responsibility and that I had gone full circle. I was informed that was tough. So, back to the first number, where the seventh person predictably told me I should probably have called another number, BUT that she was handing me to someone who she thought was actually responsible. So finally, I got a very nice guy, who knows where and in what sphere of influence he moves, who took down my case, said he thought it was probably a software problem and gave me the number for Hewlett Packard. At this point, Geoff and Maria had arrived and we had seafood. So, this "CompUSA did not cover itself in glory" thing -- blame it on the machines, but somewhere along the line somebody made the decision about how the trunking works in such calls, and this person probably went to a different company years ago. Oh, where is the OUTRAGE?

Speaking of outrage. After seeing Bernard Goldberg on the Daily Show while we were in the Adirondacks, I was actually curious enough about his "100 People Who Are Wrecking America" book to buy it, at a steep discount, and read it. Getting through it was not unlike when you try to run fast in your dreams and something keeps you from moving at all, and you lean into your running and still get nowhere. It was fun, I guess, to read bile about liberals because the argument was so shallow and could have been coming right out of Ann Coulter's mouth. But the writing is very poor. When the countdown got down to #21 or so, I started writing comments in the margins. By the time I got around to #11 or #10, I started crossing out entire articles. Bile started being spewed around #7. But I made it to the end, and ceremoniously tossed the book into the trash. Which I guess turned my marginalia into a kind of performance art -- all emotion and bile, but for no audience whatsoever (sometimes bringing me to those fluoxetine hydrochloride days). Bernard Goldberg can perform an anatomical impossibility with himself, but he's helped me get into cutting edge performance art, and for that I am indifferent.

This week's pictures include the new G5 iMac in context (the desktop picture is the Minuteman Trail) and the old iMac in its new context. Followed by Sunny modeling his new Elizabethan collar, and Cammy trying to read Sunny's mind and not being very subtle about it. We finish with Cammy grasping the bed, and my new Arthur Marc's hot sauce collection (where it is stored, on the work table in the basement).

AUGUST 8. Breakfast this morning was Morningside Farms meatless breakfast sausage patties with melted 2% cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner/lunch was pizza. Yesterday's breakfast (pictured way below) was Trader Joe's potato pancakes, fake egg omelettes with fat-free cheese, orange juice, and coffee. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 59.7 and 94.1. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include deposit with Casello electric for rewiring, $800, refurbished HP Windows computer with maintenance contract, $779, various dinners with friends, various prices. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Zeccatella" (etude #59 as performed by Geoff Burleson, a recording of which I just got). POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: During the four "lost" years between grad school and full employment, my routine while living in Brookline was to spend a full day at each of the Boston YWCA Development Office and the Boston YMCA Black Achievers, and two half-days each at each place -- not exactly conducive to getting music written and especially not for getting that dissertation done. For a little while in, I think, 1986, I worked extra hours (at $12 an hour) to save up for an external hard disk for my fat Mac (the original 128K Mac fattened to 512K RAM at a cost of $330). I recall that it took 3 months of extra work, essentially adding up to full-time hours -- PLUS doing the occasional typing for Computerimages -- to save up the $800 it cost for my external hard drive. The size of the drive: 20 megabytes. How big it seemed at the time: infinite. Speed of my modem for crusing bulletin boards: 1200 baud. What was my next computer: a Mac SE that I got at the Stanford discount in 1988: internal 20 meg drive and TWO floppy drives, and a meg of memory. $2600 at that steep discount, as I recall. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY RECENTLY is . COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY AND THEN SOME this week include Arthur Marc's hot sauces and Inko's White Teas. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How does old pesto turn blue? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Arthur Marc's Chicken Wing and Dipping Sauce, spicy olives, Inko's white tea (original). DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Adobe Creative Suite 2 and all the applications in it, each of which has a trailing "CS 2". MONEY DOWN THE DRAIN THIS WEEK: is actually none. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is a tiny corner of Sunny's scab (by Sunny) and a few little nicks on the screens by the window seats downstairs. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 41 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: the passive voice. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE Sunny's scab, Sunny's Elizabethan collar, a bot fly larva, a grain of coarse-ground pepper.

I am no longer claiming a readership of "almost twelve" or "almost thirteen", since more people have told me they have read this page, though of course most did not claim to be regular readers. I now say the readership is "well into the low two figures." As long as the quality of this page declines as steadily as it has been, I have no fear of that being contradicted for some time.

As I type this, Beff is in Vermont for the week teaching at the Vermont Youth Orchestra summer camp -- she actually left a little earlier than anticipated, because she'd been alerted that more faculty would be stuffed into the same size dorm-ish apartments as last year, and she didn't want to be stuck having to sleep in a living room. As far as I can tell from her phone call, she got an actual bedroom. I suggested she take stock of the living situation and be like me -- threaten not to come back next year if status quo holds. I'm like that. She does, of course, get to be close to her dad and, as it turns out, her sister and our nephew, who are in town, too. So there she will be.

That which involved the most physical AND emotional energy this week had to do with Sunny's rum and coke. Or cuterebra, if I remember the term right (as big Mike rightly noted, bot flies are disgusting). We were directed to keep the cone (or Elizabethan collar) on him until Friday, but he was so pathetic and depressed-looking that it plunged deeply into our guilt to make him wear it constantly -- especially as it was humid weather, and the inside of the cone was getting disgusting with his dander and saliva. So at first, on Wednesday, we took off the collar at feeding times, and watched him like a hawk for when he would aim to scratch the injured area. Each time that happened, it actually looked like mass panic, as we kind of yelled, lunged, and used that as a teaching point -- that was when the collar went back on. Actually, on Tuesday night, somehow during the night he managed to slip out of the collar, and I discovered him looking very mundane in the dining room. Quickly I recollared him, plunged into those same feelings of guilt, uncollared him, watched him like a hawk, lunged when he made motions to scratch, repeat as often as necessary. Finally by Friday the wound was solid enough to let him free, and we felt free to concentrate on non-Sunny things. Many of which there were.

On Wednesday morning our insurance agent -- an independent insurance agent who speaks for the actual insurers -- called to let us know our homeowner's insurer was cancelling our home insurance (no small thing, since our mortgage requires we have this insurance) because of the antiquated knob and tube wiring in the basement that one of their inspectors found. It was called a fire hazard, blah blah blah, and as usual my first impulse was to suggest various anatomical impossibilities for the insurance company. Luckily, I've been trained to suppress those impulses. Our agent -- who is really cool, but had a chance 5 years ago when he inspected the house himself to tell us we had antiquated and dangerous wiring -- suggested we could be put on the "Fair Mass. Plan", which sounds like a charity case, and we're too proud for that kind of thing, so I said what if we got it rectified? He called the company and said they'd give us until September 8 to put a deposit down for an electrician to rewire. And we called Casello Electric, and the nice guy scheduled us for September 2 and agreed to bill us for one day's work by two guys: eight hundred bucks. Though I certainly expect such a complicated job to take more than just a day. I will, of course, be asking our agent to get us another homeowner's insurer when this contract is up.

Ooh, look at all that anger seeping out. I stand accused. By me. Well, lots of things happened this week that go into the minor frustrations that add up exponentially file, and the lovely CompUSA phone experience I described last week (five numbers, seven agents, cut off once, only one of those agents acknowledged any responsibility whatsoever) had plenty to do with it. The continuation of that story is that I called HP, as I was directed, since it looked like software problem. They wanted to talk me through the programs that come preinstalled on my computer for reinstalling Windows, etc., and damned if I was going to pay for something that anyone with an IQ well into the low two figures could figure out by himself. So after navigating through the many "this disk is bad" and "this disk is unbootable" messages, I got to the HP Restore utility -- the last resort -- where the hard disk was restored to how it looked when we first unpacked it in May, 2002. The sound of harp glissandi and birds singing could be ascertained from outside (HP has some very powerful backers), and meanwhile many of my programs and files and Shortcuts were still there. Including the files for this webpage. So, temporarily, and for however long it takes me to learn GoLive CS 2, this web page will continue to be edited and updated using WebEasy -- fantastically easy to use, and actually hasn't bombed in more than a year and a half. For as long as this computer will start up, anyway (I had to go through yet another CHKDSK when I started this time).

So because of these trials and tribulations -- and who knows when or how either CompUSA or HP will decide which one is responsible for this disk stuff -- we started letting the Windows computer GO (in the emotional sense). Beff talked openly (thankfully, while the HP computer was turned off) about turning this area into the mobile computing area -- with the USB hub, printer, and DSL connection for whichever PowerBook we chose to put up here (on this drafting table, which was, by the way, my college graduation present in 1980). We figured we'd get to know Go Live and transfer the content to the iMac G5 (I even shopped for web hosting packages in the meantime, and hardly understood any of it). Noise reduction software and mp3 encoding is now available to us on our Macs (such things could only be had for Mac for $700 three years ago). And both iMacs are set up for real e-mail software. And then we looked for the last piece: map software. Being remote as we are, we often have to send printed or emailed maps to people to get here, or generate them when we go somewhere unfamiliar for the first time. I bought Route 66 for Mac a few years ago, Beff tried it -- and it sucks big, huge, gigantic ones. I looked for maps on the Delorme site, and they no longer do Mac software (which makes me like them not very much). And the available Rand McNally software got one star on amazon from nearly every reviewer.

So I idly looked through some computer seller sites and we settled on a new Windows computer. And this technology thing always gets me. The computer is two-thirds the cost of what we paid for this sickly one. And it has four times the RAM, three times the hard disk, twice the processor speed, 7 USB 2.0 ports (instead of 2 USB 1.1 ports), 2 Firewire ports (as compared to zero), a DVD-CD burner (as compared to a CD burner and a DVD playback drive that hasn't worked for two years), and -- this is the photography nerd in me going WOO WOO WOO -- card readers for all the cameras we have (Compact Flash, SD, Memory Stick,and Memory Stick Pro). I would have cited similar statistics for this computer compared to the 3-year-old one it replaced, by the way. We will continue to use it for the Windows-only programs that Beff had let go of (including Cool Edit, Acid, Fruity Loops, and Streets & Trips 2004), web browsing, and e-mailing when the other computers are busy. Yes, our computers are pretty busy lately. The most common repeated occurrence this past week involves one of us entering the room while the other is using the iMac and the other saying, "do you want this? I'm almost done."

The one most aggravating thing about returning to a virgin Windows was browsing while the Messenger something blah blah blah was enabled. Three years ago I figured out how to turn off the nasty advertising popups, which at the time were for Viagra and porn websites and very primitive. This time with Messenger turned on, I kept getting "SYSTEM MESSAGE: your file system is corrupted. Download a fix from ...." which I almost fell for once -- because, hey, my file system actually is corrupted. Another reason why I hate Windows. But I hate bacteria, too, and without them I couldn't digest any food. I forgot to mention that today is the Day of the Non Sequitur. Squirrels. True to form, when I googled "stop Windows pop-up messages", the first 7 or 8 choices were sponsored ones, as in download and pay for this instead of finding out where this little switch in Control Panels is. Gregg was right about what the internet has become. Chipmunks.

We ate out in Maynard three times this week. We only do that when people visit, so bear with me. Monday night (as I reported in the last update), Geoff and Maria came for dinner and we went to the Quarterdeck. Geoff has a new 7 megapixel toy (it's bigger than mine -- as guys would tend to say, and hey, I'm a guy), returned Buffy Season 7, and brought a keen new CD of the Davytudes he played this spring -- including the premiere and an encore of Zeccatella. Which is very cool -- both the performance and the piece. His Pittsburgh performance of Bop It was blindingly fast and very cool -- I could have sworn it was Bud Powell except for the being alive thing -- and I reacquainted myself with old favories Horned In and You Dirty Rag (also brilliant, both of us). Actually, according to iTunes I played Zeccatella 12 times (each time concentrating heavily on a different pitch class). So far. The Flea performance I removed noise from using Bias Soap, and it worked about as well as Cool Edit. But anyway, we walked to the restaurant, took pictures, and so on, and fun it was. I gave Geoff an Inko's, Buffy Season 1, and a jar of Arthur Marc's Hot Sauce in return. Actually, I lent the Buffy. The other stuff, well, how do you return it when you are finished with it?

Tuesday night David "The" Smooke drove all the way from the Bard festival where he had been passing the time. I won't go into his motives for driving 3-1/2 hours each way for dinner (he called us an island of sanity, which just goes to show you how deluded you get about things when you pass through Bard), and our conversation ranged from alpha to omega and back. Both of us had the Chicken Ginger at Little Pusan. Okay, grammarly types, EACH of us had the chicken ginger. I played him the MIDI of the funk etude, and, trained as he is to look for references in my etudes, he thought he heard "Girl From Ipanema" (with the triumphant tone that made it obvious he expected a prize or a diploma), while I poo-poohed that. Or perhaps said it wasn't intentional. Or ignored him. I forget which. My branching and trunking has been a little faulty as of late.

And on Friday, Christine Schadeberg and Mike Finckel took time off from the Composers Conference to come to Maynard for dinner at the Quarterdeck. As is my wont, I brought the Sony camera, and took a little digital movie of Mike, um, poseuring for the camera, and I included that movie -- slowed down -- in the yellow text to the left. Christine jovially told us about this year's experiences at the conference -- aw geez, both of them have been there for more than 20 years -- and we had steamers, and ginger fish, and clam roll, and fish chowder, and everything beginning with "p" we could find. Strong thunderstorms had passed just to our south in the mid-afternoon, and electricity went out in Wellesley. But nothing happened here, except -- we exited the restaurant at sunset, and there was a bigass rainbown over the mill pond. I tried getting some shots, but it's too faint for my mere 5 megapixels. While Mike and I filled Chris's vehicle (with gas), it is claimed, by Beff and Chris (passive voice, remember?) that briefly the rainbow became a triple rainbow. I took some nice pix, but mostly I have better ones from other sunsets. Let's call these particular pictures archival. Or archrival.

Wednesday and Saturday nights were occupied by trips to Wellesley itself for concerts where former students or composers associated with me (I'm not going to parse that, dear well into low two figures) had pieces performed, and there was some very stunning stuff. Jeremy Sagala had written a tonal-modal piece for the amateur commission, and last week I hated the piece and this week I liked it. Amy Kaplan had a "funny" piece that reminded both Beff and me, fleetingly, of the Stravinsky Ragtime. John Aylward had some really, really, neat stuff in his piano concerto. Grace's songs came off very nicely with some lovely color combinations, though the things that some people said reminded them of me escaped me. And "iceman" Steve Hoey's piece was gorgeous and colorful, particularly the end when the layers started getting stripped away. There. Did I satisfy everybody? (if I had a nickel for every time I've said THAT one...) Big Mike carpooled with us for the Wednesday show, as he and Amy are old, old, old, old, old, old, old, old friends. Groundhog.

Both Adobe Creative Suite 2 (Photoshop, In Design, Go Live, Acrobat Professional, Illustrator) arrived, taking up 4 CDs for installation, plus 2 discs of goodies which I haven't cracked open, plus a training CD. As has become the custom, there was no printed documentation of any kind, so there was not much to be gained from a first crack at these programs. I did own Illustrator 88, Illustrator 3 and Illustrator 5 but it's gone fairly far since those heady days. In Design opens my Pagemaker documents (I was a registered user of version 1.2), but again there's lots of cool new features that I'll have to discover at some later date. Ditto for Photoshop, which is the Photoshop LE 5 that I know (came with a scanner) plus a zillion other things. I used Photoshop to reduce the resolution of this week's pictures, since I have access to no other program that will do that -- and (geek alert) now the program has a "save for web" feature that makes GIFs instead of JPGs, about half the size (I know, I tried both). And I watched about 20 minutes of the Creative Suite video -- gawrsh, the narrator gets about 7 broken arms from patting himself on the back -- and as you might expect it's not for newbies. I opened GoLive and opened the Home of this webpage, and got this very cool background with absolutely everything smushed up in the upper left corner. No one is going to win a design award for that one. So, more discovery remains, and I may actually have to ask Carolyn some things.

Now thanks to the lack of real documentation, a whole cottage industry of books that tell you how to use this software you already purchased has cropped up. reveals about 20 Photoshop books, and many, many others for Creative Suite 2 -- most of which have publication dates between September and December. Why, I never. I ordered what said was available NOW, at a cost of $72 (including tax, which actually charges), but we shall see what happens with that. Amazon, meanwhile, has been sitting on an order I made last June 20 without shipping it (I went for the free shipping option) and just today told me that only one of them (Star Trek sound effects -- yes, le dweeb c'est moi) was ready to ship, and the rest would come at the end of the month -- maybe. I remember when was pretty good. Do you? Hedgehog.

Well. Well, then. Well. Finally, by Wednesday I got the entire iTunes library ported over, plus the new etudes from Geoff, plus a Sheryl Crow CD, and I thought I was done. Then arrived the Creative Suite. And Finale 2006, by the way, but I am putting that off for a little bit longer. As for today, I have been using Finale 2005 -- for the first time ever -- pretty constantly. I have entered what I have of the piano trio so that the trio --which will have a few hours together this week -- can start to rehearse it. I may have mentioned -- the first performance is scheduled at Rice University in September, and NOT in Vermont in October. In other non-news, the Network for New Music had contacted me to see if I'd be interested in writing a piano left-hand piece with ensemble for their benefit in December with Leon Fleisher and I said sure, I'd even do it for free. My brain had been occupied with possibilities for such a piece until they got back to me and kept changing the parameters and finally said it wouldn't work because Mr. Fleisher was too solidly booked to learn a new piece so quickly. Which was fine, though it took a while for me to empty those lefthanded thoughts from my brain.

I had gotten notice from Alex at Inko's Teas that BJ's now had 12-packs for 10 bucks -- a considerable bit less than the $1.89 per tea we had just paid at Shaw's -- so we went to BJs to get some, as well as some salad, tomatoes, USB cables, and other various things that hit our fancy. On the same trip we had gone to Target (next to BJs) to get Beff some new shorts, but the selection was pitiful, so we up and went to TJ Maxx, where success was had. Beff had carried around some flaming red ones, but settled on blue. Raccoon.

Blast from the past yesterday as I spoke with Michelle Green (-Willner) for the first time in many a year (probably about seven). For the uninitiated (that would be all of you), Michelle was a student of mine in my first year at Columbia, and is now raising four children (all of them hers) in sunny southern California. There is a prospect for the family to come to the other coast, hence our conversation.

This week the appointments of note include The Maids, Tuesday morning, checkups and rabies boosters for both cats Tuesday afternoon (boy will I have stories to tell the bet), and a meeting about the composer search at Brandeis on Thursday afternoon. Thursday is our 16th wedding anniversary, and normally we would expect appropriate gifts well into the low two figures. But there is no appropriate gift. If you didn't get us anything last year, you might be pleased to be informed that it is the crystal anniversary.

This week the movies up there are Mike Finckel gesticulating at the Quarterdeck, and a sped-up and chopped up movie of Beff leaving for Vermont late yesterday morning. Underneath, yesterday's breakfast in the Davy context and the Beff context. Follow that with Sunny resting with his scar visible, and the knob and tube wiring in the basement that makes insurance companies absolutely loathe us. Then, Friday's sunset and very faint (to cameras) rainbow, the new Inko's tea from BJ's, Mike and Christine at the Quarterdeck, Maria at the Quarterdeck, and Geoff's 7 megapixels perfectly catching the flash of my camera.

AUGUST 15. Breakfast this morning was somebody's lowfat turkey breakfast sausage links, orange juice and coffee. Dinner was Trader Joe's random seafood chunks in Trader Joe's cioppino sauce. Yesterday's lunch was Oscar Mayer fat free hot dogs with dill relish, Arthur Marc's hot sauce, Gulden's mustard, and Heinz ketchup. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 64.4 and 95.0. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include $188 for checkups, distemper shots, and rabies vaccinations for both cats, Windows software at $99 including three rebates, Windows MS Office, $99 from amazon, $178 for office supplies at Staples (on tax-free Saturday) and $350 in electronic supplies at Radio Shack (on tax-free Sunday). MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "For Pete's Sake" from the Monkees Headquarters album -- for a while it was used over the closing credits on their TV show. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: there were two items I craved mightily in the early portion of my double-digit years: a small, portable, battery-powered movie projector and the second Monkees album (you see I wasn't hip enough at the time to crave the Beatles). In each case, my mother made me do chores around the house to accumulate enough cash to buy them. At the time I didn't know I was being taught "responsibility" because I wasn't. At the age of ten, the only word that came to mind was "torture". Eighteen cents to dust the living room? A dime to shovel the sidewalk? How would I EVER make $2.88 for the record, or $5.88 for the projector? Nowadays it's the Citibank Thankyou rewards that accumulate this glacially. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY RECENTLY is Roxio, through their proxy . COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY AND THEN SOME this week is Inko's White Teas, who sent a couple of free t-shirts. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Why does anyone, but anyone, work on Windows? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Arthur Marc's Chicken Wing and Dipping Sauce, Inko's white tea, Bubbie's pickles, Real Pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK The wall of the Ben Smith dam, recently exposed because of light flow of the Assabet. And the fact that pictures filed in your Mac OS X address book show up on e-mails you get from those people. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 7. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is nothing. BIKE RIDES CONCLUDING BEFORE 9 AM THIS WEEK: 7. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 31 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: G5 chips that run cool. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE an Altoids apple sour, frozen pizza, a burning pile of tires, that word on the tip of your tongue.

Stacy called me "Mr. Wordy" after last week's update. I didn't have a similar epithet to hurl back at her, just the satisfaction of an extremely rich life and a whole bunch of time on my hands. Actually, I got a new scrubbing sponge and that got most of the time off of my hands (think about it). Where I could go next with this joke is beyond me.

There is a far smaller variety of things that have happened this week because I spent so much time writing piano trio music. Since Monday last, I finished a first movement and wrote all of a second movement. The third movement is under way, and it is (sigh) blazingly fast. The deadline is ... soon. What I was writing in the first movement seemed largely arbitrary, as it always does, but then when I put it into Finale and look at it laid out neatly on screen, then it seems like actual music. Thoughtful music even, with ... ow, my arm hurts from patting myself on the back. Even II. looks like real music on screen. Must put more music into Finale, and more quickly. For the first time, I am using Finale 2005 to enter a piece (because Finale 2006 arrived after I started inputting it), and for the first time I am putting a multi-movement piece all in one file instead of in two or three or four of them. I am tricky that way.

This is not to say that I didn't do other stuff last week. Hey, I had control of the house (in essence slowly converting it into a bachelor pad) almost the whole week because Beff has been in Vermont, and that meant taking on mundane tasks that Beff usually does that keep the place from becoming a bachelor pad (dishes, cat litter) while blithely ignoring the other things (cleaning, for instance). Beff gave me special instructions on better ways of guiding the litter from the box to the garbage pail so that it doesn't fall onto the floor (as if I were seven, but I showed her -- I acted like I was almost nine), but it still didn't work all the time. Darn that limp-wristed scooping technique, darn it!

A few important other things did happen this week, though. The new Windows computer arrived and I set it up and ran it to see how things were going. Those companies that bundle trial versions of their software are getting WAY more aggressive than three years ago -- I was greeted by a plethora of "your trial version of xxxxx expires in three months, you must register and pay to keep it going, don't you wanna, don't you wanna, DON'T YOU WANNA, HMMMM?" pop-ups, and I authorized my trial versions of Norton stuff, which is itself more aggressive than it was before. Hey, the second time I turned the computer on it was to check the internet connection and view e-mail, but Norton anti-virus started right up and showed me its virus scanning progress right off the bat. NO, NO, NO, I said (not so much said as clicked the Cancel button) and Office 2003 tryout popped up and said hi, and -- every time about a minute after startup is finished I get the dreaded program bomb button "Setconfig encountered an error and had to terminate". At first I just pressed "Cancel", but since it got to be so prevalent, I actually got into the habit of clicking the "Send Error Report" button. Soon when I did that, Explorer shot up and showed me a page saying UNIDENTIFIED ERROR IN THIS PROGRAM CAUSED BY HEWLETT PACKARD DAMNED IF I KNOW WHAT THE PROBLEM IS BUT IT'S NOT MICROSOFT'S FAULT AND EVEN IF IT WHAT COULD YOU DO ABOUT IT ANYWAY? So my ten-year impression of Windows as a rinky-dink operating system has not been moved, even in the slightest.

Though some Windows programs kick ass. Since this sucker comes with a DVD burner, Beff researched software for creating digital media (I know the buzzwords, too), and settled on Roxio Easy Media Creator 7.5, which was selling at Staples with an instant savings AND with a mail-in rebate. More on the rebate later. I installed that program, and then investigated to see if I could make a backup DVD of my US Marine Band Plays The Midwest Clinic (And Davy's On It, Too) DVD. I had considered calling the company who recorded it to buy another copy because the DVD has gotten scratched in its holder (I've since transferred it to a paper sleeve), and parts of it wouldn't play on my office computer because of it. So the program created a digital image of the DVD, and I was able to burn another one, for my own use. Yes, it's legal -- home recording act, and ahem, my publisher owns the copyright on part of the music. Cool. So now Beff's plans are to make a cadre of standard DVDs of her stuff in iDVD 4, make disc images of them on the Windows computer, and burn when needed.

I also got Office academic edition, Norton System works (FREE after TWO mail-in rebates!), and DeLorme mapping stuff -- which, I am sorry to report, kind of sucks. So I sent the rebate stuff in with the usual requirements: receipts, pieces of the boxes, childhood photos, leftover sausages, DNA samples, etc. And since all the notification stuff is done by e-mail nowadays, there's this odd time where you wait to see if your rebate has been, um, "approved." Like waiting for the results of something you applied for ("I'm sorry we can't hire you. The width of your head exceeds our specifications." "We can't offer you the job because our XMG quotient, calculated from the information you provided, is too low",). Both the Norton rebates have generated e-mails to me already, saying Hey Babe, We Got 'Em, Be Cool, Bro. And I got an e-mail from RebatesHQ, a company of mouth-breathers that processes Roxio's rebates, saying click on this link for the status of your rebate! Be cool! So I clicked and got a message saying "we're sorry for the misunderstanding, but the rebate for which you sent in DNA and stool samples has expired." I checked on that rebate, and discovered that the expiration date is March 10, 2006, so I not so calmly pored through the Roxio and RebatesHQ sites for places to ask the question, dripping in as much sarcasm as is possible, of how August 2005 is probably not later than March 2006. The Roxio site does everything it can to make it impossible for you to ask any questions of anyone without paying a $35 fee. It even made me create an account, which it then did not let me log into (it said the account I had just created didn't exist) -- when I tried to create the account again, I was told the username already existed. Ah, plus ca change. I also bent a few rules to query RebatesHQ in order to ask the question about relative places in the time-space continuum of August 2005 and March 2006. It's too bad that bad behavior by companies who should know better can tick me off like this, because I do indignation like nobody's business. Late last night, Roxio e-mailed me to kiss and make up, not matching my level of sarcasm.

By contrast, I also have good stories. Every time I have called Apple Computer with questions, someone answers by the second ring, and knows the answers to my questions. Ditto J&R Music. So I'm not all negatory, smarty pants.

And now obviously Web Easy is back up and running on this new computer, and I have transferred my files. I mean, like, totally, duh. I did receive and start to read several books on Creative Suite 2, but it will be a while before I am competent to transfer this web presence to GoLive. Being a professional program and all that, there was a lot of unfamiliar stuff to wade through, and a ton of unfamiliar concepts -- cascading style sheets, anyone? Reading the book would have reminded me of taking subjects in school that I just didn't get, except that never happened to me (for you see, I was the smart one) -- so in return, I should probably justify my existence and enhance my self-esteem by saying something true that is only for the already initiated. So here it is: Imaginary Dances (1986, revised 1988) was my first piece where I felt comfortable controlling harmony with trichord types (specifically 015, 014 and 013), deriving all-combinatorial hexachords with them and using common trichord types in a way analagous to common tones in tonal music as a way of moving from one hexachord to another -- not to mention briefer sections where non-structural trichords were pulled out of the hexachords and used to derive other hexachords (yeah, like that E-type hexachord in the cadence of the first large section that got derived from 014's, and the 015s that got pulled out of that hexachord to derive a B-type hexachord. Those were the days).

The geekness of this update is breathtaking.

Beff arrived safe and sound in yesterday's many downpours (we had three thunderstorms and then more rain this morning), and there was enough rain for some water to get into the basement -- a rare occurrence indeed. So that means I can put the sprinkler away again, and that the lawn might perk back up. I had, as predicted, found a way down to the dam and brought a pruner and some gloves, and pruned away all the stuff that was covering my usual viewing area. This summer has been so dry that the flow of the Assabet over the dam nearly stopped entirely, but I presume it's back to a normal flow with last night's torrents.

New entries into iTunes: Monkees Headquarters, Mitch Hedberg (comedian), Missy Elliot. I heartily recommend the Hedberg, which is funny in a stoner sort of Steven Wright sort of way ("...to be understood when I was in the South, I started saying 'y'all' and leaving out "o-u" whenever I could. 'May I have a bowl of chicken noodle sp?' 'I think I'll lie down on the cch.' 'I stubbed my toe! Ch!'").

The cats had their checkup and shots, and Cammy's reaction to being in an unfamiliar room with unfamiliar people was to shed violently. There were practically hair projectiles flyin' everywhere! The vet looked at Sunny's scar, and I heard the word "pus" used in a sentence, in a non-derogatory way, for the first time in many a year. And so Sunny got an antibiotic, which is fun to administer: aim an eyedropper at the back of his throat, squeeze.

Okay, back to geekdom. In the process of entering a lotta notes into Finale, I feel the need to take breaks to do dumb stuff. I discovered that pictures you put in your OS X Address book show up in the headers of e-mails from people whose pictures you have in your address book. So I spent idle hours dragging photos from my collection -- usually going for the cheesiest shot possible -- and even ramped it up to searching Google Images for some of the people I have (such as David Sanford and Sophie Wadsworth). I can't imagine anyone doing this that isn't a total geek. Le Geek, C'est Moi.

I agreed to write an article for New Music Box about titles. I wonder why Frank asked me, other than the obvious part about how I'd be willing to do it for free. What, am I supposed to toss off lots of little asides like, "..and, coming from the composer of 'Absofunkinlutely' or "I should know. I called a piece Plucking A." So if any compositore reading this wants to e-mail me any reflections or commentary about titles of pieces, I would say, Bush-like, bring it on. Really.

I am now a ways into the final movement of a piano trio. And I need a title! The first movement is about my cats (the strings are the cats and the piano is me -- it actually depends on what the meaning of "is" is here), the second is a smushy adagio with lots of counterpoint and in which the strings are muted, and the finale is a superfast scherzo in compound meter. Title, anyone? And before any of you pat yourselves on the back for discovering such things, I'll tell you in advance that the opening music is retrograded at the end of the first movement, the big tune in the second movement is the same pitch sequence as the opening of the first movement, and a Big Ben style chime is hidden in the piano part in the midst of the first movement. And ah! so far the scherzo seems to be about oblique chromatic counterpoint (as in, one note staying the same and another note moving chromatically).

New handles for the burners on the stove! Hallelujah!

The two movies this week (on the left, yellow text) were taken during one of the thunderstorms yesterday afternoon. This week's meager collection of photos include the Address Book entry for one of the regular readers (identity obscured), an extreme closeup of a Pez dispenser on the geegaw window, evidence of Maynard's extreme ambivalence about the naming of its waste, how the dam looked on Wednesday, the cats in the living room window, and a picture of me that Geoffy took at the Quarterdeck with his damn 7 megapixels -- I was drinking some Uel Ms at the time.

AUGUST 22. Today my father would be 83. Breakfast this morning was Morningside Farm veggie breakfast patties with nonfat cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner was salmon burgers with nonfat cheese, and salad. Lunch was sushi from Shaws (California rolls for me, baby!). TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 53.6 and 88.2. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are USB 2.0 hub $26, bicycle repair $35, anniversary dinner at the Blue Room, $112. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "My Sunny Girlfriend" from the Monkees Headquarters Album, which I actually hate. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: There was a time -- a much better time, many would say -- when there were no pointless nostalgic reminiscences on this website. I had a little more hair, we had cats that were 19 years old, and nobody cared that we had some old knob and tube wiring in the basement. And gas was $1.27 a gallon. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY RECENTLY include HP (for every week until they provide a fix wherein "Setconfig" does not bomb a minute after startup), Radio Shack, Radio Shack again, Finale Music and Axion. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY AND THEN SOME is PAC Insurance, who followed up about the wiring thing, and Inko's White Teas (again), 'cause I got a cool t-shirt from them. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Why are my experiences with the service industry so universally dismal? (Beff asked this question) THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: inspecular. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Real Pickles, Inko's Peach Tea, olives from the olives station at Shaw's, Oscar Mayer fat free hot dogs. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Laura Hendrie was at MacDowell with Hayes. My autographed copy of her novel contains the gem "I don't understand your humor"... THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 5. CHANGES TO THIS SITE: Kostitsyn link deleted, Haber link added. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is nothing, but the canvas cooler on the back porch took a hit from Sunny (chased a dragonfly, jumped up, dragged the whole thing down). BIKE RIDES CONCLUDING BEFORE 9 AM THIS WEEK: 1. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 12 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: moderate Republicans. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Pummels H. Nouakchott. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Superman pills pills. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE leg of lamb, eye of newt, Manos the Hands of Fate, a foot of snow.

I am hoping to make this little update a little shorter than has been the case recently. I am very close to finishing my piano trio, which will be finished either today or tomorrow -- I hope. I am a little ways into what I like to call, modestly, the "recapitulative coda," and there are still a few relationships that have to be worked out. As is so often the case with what I like to call, modestly, "me", I used first movement music in the second movement (snaky hocketed line becomes big tune in piano solo, unison outburst reinterpreted as slow music), and both first and second movement music in third movement. While I'm writing that music, it seems like I'm getting free stuff -- or at least a 2-for-1 deal I didn't earn -- but I'm confident that when I see it in the printed Finale version it will look more like organic development than self-plagiarism. At least that's what I'm telling the cats. The other reason, of course, that, spending 6-8 hours a day writing and 1-2 hours in Finale leaves not much time for things that are equally boring to report here.

But report I will. Beff and I did our anniversary dinner in Cambridge last Monday night at the Blue Room near Kendall Square in Cambridge. We arrived early, got some hefeweizen and "tiger bite" ale at Cambridge Brewery which is next door, did our very nice dinner at the blue room, and then drove back via Alewife. Tiger Bite Ale has lemongrass in it, among other things, and was very pungent and nice, but the hefeweizen was worth the stop. I followed that with a Bloody Mary at the Blue Room that had a salt-and-pepper concoction lining the rim of the glass. Beff got the wabbit, I got the salmon, and the twain never met.

Then Beff spent the middle part of the week in Maine doing Beff stuff while I did that boring thing of creating a set of instructions destined to produce highly organized sound waves. And on Thursday I rested. Well, mostly. Hayes finished a successful stint at what I like to call, modestly, The MacDowell Colony, and he stopped by here on his way home to return the printer that I'd lent him for his stay. I offered to do a touristy drive, which turned out more functional for me than touristy, but we did check out the old cemetary in Concord, the Alcott House, Trader Joe's, Staples (the USB hub, dude) and BJ's -- where Hayes got himself 3 USB cables for the unheard-of price of 8 bucks (we laughed, both inwardly and outwardly, when we saw ONE USB cable offered for the price of $15 at Staples). Regular readers will be pleased to know that I got two more 12-packs of Inko's teas there and a bigass package of Campari tomatoes. Hayes delighted at lying in the hammock for some time, while listening to the Monkees Headquarters on the iPod and iPod speakers. Then we walked to the Quarterdeck and ordered more food than we could eat: steamers and vegetable stuff, and (for me) Scottish style fish and chips and (for Hayes) the Cajun chunks of seafood. On Friday, Hayes went back to New York, minus his cooler and wheat germ. But I made sure he had his two jars of Arthur Marc's hot sauce. And he brought some cheap potato chips from Job Lots in Peterborough.

Saturday night included a large multipurpose trip to Peterborough (we missed Hayes by a mere 60 hours) for a Monadnock Music concert (Soozie and Curt and Alan Feinberg and Greg Hesselink, etc.), and our friend Hilda -- the real estate agent who sold us this house -- invited us to dinner, as she now lives in the area. So I drove to the pound of my own drummer (to mix metaphors rather violently), took an unknown shortcut and missed a turnoff, but made it to Hilda's place on time anyway -- lovely salmon, Fat Weasel Ale from Trader Joes, and salad. And then was the concert, a mere 8 miles distant. Which we all went to.

The concert started with the Brahms horn trio, which, as Beff noted, the acoustic made sound far less heroic than on the recordings you grew up with, and ended with the Schubert E-flat piano trio (a long and rather dreary affair with a finale that had a set of variations that tried to titillate you by bringing in the funeral march music from the second music, as if it were either profound or guffaw-funny). In between were songiepoos: my own Violin Songs, and two sets of songs by the festival director, James Bolle (five letters in each name). The performances were all inspecular, and it was nice to see Greg -- whom I've only heard play modern music in New York, including three pieces of mine -- playing music with tonal centers. I did not reveal my absence of affinity for Schubert's chamber music to any of those involved. Judy Sherman was there (big hugs), and there was a man sitting in front of us that looked so familiar, but I could not place him -- was he an agent in New York? Did I know him from the MacDowell Colony (but a mile distant)? Does he serve the ice cream at the diner? After my piece he came up to me for congratulations, and I realized he was the Dean from UMass Dartmouth -- Ken's boss. I also apparently reverted to that panic that bestrides my face when I meet someone familiar but whose name I don't remember right away, as both he and Laura Gilbert (went to undergrad together, both taught at Bowdoin same summer) kindly introduced themselves to me. After the show we all went out for a beer (iced tea for me) at Harlowes, where we all caught up, and I laid the guilt on Soozie. ("So what have you been doing this summer?" "Sitting by the phone waiting for your call and checking my e-mail every three minutes to see if you've written back yet.") Which I then simplified to: procrastination. Which works fine as a lyric replacing "infatuation" in the Rod Stewart crapfest of a song from the 1980s.

We have now listened to the entire Mitch Hedberg comedy ouevre from the CD and DVD we got, and I suspect a lot of the punch lines are going to enter our daily routine. "Dude, you have to wait", recontextualized, provides the necessary bisociation, in our case, to be funny once in a while. Beff prefers "I bought Ritz because I wanted a cracker, not because it's an edible plate." Maybe I'll start a feature in the first paragraph.

There is much new space on the Windows station table, as the big, big CRT monitor has now been replaced by a flat screen. But getting it here led to this week's cosmic question, and my usual fun with what Beff calls "the service industry." So here we go. Under-17 may want to shield their eyes, or read only every other letter. Last weekend was tax-free weekend, and I got a few medium-ticket items that were already on special in order to save a few bucks (I spent it on pickles, but that's a story for another day -- hey, how come there are nickels and nickle, but not pickels and pickle, except for Pickel as a last name, as in David Pickel, a composer who graduated from Columbia? Are you still with me?). The Maxtor drive I got at Staples voiks like a charm. 60 gigs worth of files backed up in less than an hour. Meanwhile, Beff suggested we get a flat-screen monitor for the Windows computer, as the CRT 17-inch monitor was about 3 or 4 feet deep. I exaggerate, as usual, but what can you do? I didn't feel like making a longish trip to an actual technology place (as that's where everyone else was headed on this tax-free day), so I went to the local Radio Shack, browsed the catalog, and settled on a Sylvania 17-inch monitor that was on special AND included a mail-in rebate (my FAVORITE!). Since this piddle of a store didn't have the monitor in stock, I did the thing where you buy it and they promise delivery within a few days. I also noted a teeny DVD player on sale, and ordered that, too.

A story that spills into a second paragraph! So I opted for the Deliver To My House option and not the Pick It Up at This Store option and was promised delivery Tuesday or Wednesday. On Friday, monitorless and little DVD playerless, I brought my receipt to Radio Shack to ask when I should expect delivery. Panic on the manager's face. He said I shoulda had it days ago, and worse, he COULDN'T check on the status of the item there because he did not order it there -- on Monday he had submitted the order from the Radio Shack his brother manages in Worcester, and that info wasn't available to him, or to him by phone because that Radio Shack branch was now closed while it was being moved. Long story short (too late), it took till late afternoon for me to find out that the merchandise had been shipped from Radio Shack Worcester and was already delivered to .... Radio Shack Worcester. And of course, as there was now no store there, there were no alarm bells a-ringin' anywhere. Manager guy physically brought the monitor to the local store for me to pick up on Saturday, and when I did, he said -- sorry, the DVD player is coming from another guy who gets here at noon.

Third paragraph! So I asked Beff to get the new Sylvania flat monitor up while I moved the old and very heavy one to the attic. After getting down from the attic, Beff said, "where's the screw?" In the manual, lots of shiny happy people were gingerly attaching the monitor itself to the base, without any language mentioning a "screw", but there was a drawing of a hand making a radial motion. So, sighing, I brought the monitor and stand BACK to Radio Shack, who looked for a screw but had none, but promised me they'd reimburse me for a screw if I went to Ace Hardware and bought one. Sigh. While it was downpouring outside, I tramped to Ace, asked for screw assistance, and held the gfornafratz thing while 8 different screws were tried. It's a metric size, oh joy, and it cost me 63 cents. I tramped back to Radio Shack, got my 63 cents, went home, and Beff got the sucker up and working. Yes, we do have more space. After lunch, I went back to get my little DVD player, set it up to charge 8 hours (as it says in the manual), wrote music, went to Monadnock, etc. Oh yeah, and I fired off an e-mail to the Sylvania monitors site, asking for them to send me a screw in the fastest and most expensive manner possible. So far there is no response.

Fourth paragraph! Sunday morning I put some DVDs into the player and none of them worked. "DVD Video" appeared on the screen, and then "reading" and then ... nothing. Sigh. So here I went to Radio Shack again in another downpour, with all the boxing in hand (lucky thing I instituted that policy of not burning our boxes), confirmed the DVD player was a dud, and was given the display model (which I could have been given a week earlier, but noooo...). Which works, and is very, very cool -- not much larger than an actual DVD, fits in your hand, etc. But why me, Lord? Last time we made a substantial purchase at this particular Radio Shack was to get new cell phones a year and a half ago, we had to wait while one worker went to the Acton branch to get one of our phones, and only after I had entered 80 numbers into my phone book did I realize that MY phone was the one whose microphone didn't work -- as in, I called Eddie Jacobs, and he said, "Hello? .... Hello? ..... Hello? .... Well, I don't know who this is, but I have your number, and maybe I'll try to call you back." Eddie heard nothing, but my part of the conversation was actually, "Eddie! ... Ed! .... Hello, Ed, this is Davy! .... Eddie? ..... THIS ... IS ... DAVY! .... CAN.... YOU.. HEAR .... ME? .... (word that means) Intercourse."

Stacy, stop calling me Mr. Wordy. By Davy, age 9.

Only scheduled event this week is dinner with Lee and Kate at Taranta, in the North End, for Boston Restaurant Week. We hear the food is great. Lee and Kate are doing the Rolling Stones Tuesday night, so dinner is Wednesday. By then, I will have finished a third piano trio. And by the way, the movement names, right now, are I. Felinious Assault, II. Sostenuto, III. Scherzicle. I don't have a title for the trio yet, and normally I ask in this space for suggestions, but what I usually get when I ask that is really dumb. So if you have a possible title -- keep it to yourself.

We watched the series finale of Six Feet Under last night. The series had jumped the shark last year with the stupid kidnapping episode, but it was nice to be able to say after this episode -- Everybody Dies! Claire being the last one, in 2083, at the age of 102. With her photographs from age 22 decorating her wall -- apparently she didn't have much of a life after the series ended.

This week we have three mini-movies, activated in the yellow text on the left: a much sped-up movie Beff made of the ferry into Vinalhaven, Maine; a sped-up movie of Cammy rushing up the stairs for some good ol' fashioned kitty-lovin'; and 3 instances of Sunny jumping for a little cat toy, proof that he's back up to speed. Pictures include the "School of Philosophy" next to the Alcott House, Hayes at seafood dinner, another picture from the ferry, Hilda and Beff before dinner, Soozie 'n' me, Soozie 'n' Curt (under that), James Bolle and Alan Feinberg late at night, fresh-squeezed orange juice next to cartoned (can you tell the difference?), Cammy in the reddened sunrise light made by the stained glass panel in the living room, and the cats at the top of the stairs.

AUGUST 29. Breakfast this morning was orange juice and coffee. Dinner was chicken sandwiches and salad; the chicken had been marinated in a toasted sesame marinade, which I smelled on my fingers all night. Lunch was tomato sandwiches and ham and cheese Lean Pockets. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 53.8 and 84.6. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are dinner in the North End, $120. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The frustrated climax from the Tristan prelude. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: After many years of work on the essay portion of my dissertation, the defense finally came in February of 1996. I was in the middle of my Rome Prize year, and also on deadline to have the PhD by the time I started at Brandeis. When I showed my passport and ticket on the way out of Rome, the Customs Agent remarked, "ah, vacanza in casa." I made the 3-hour drive from Salisbury to Princeton, stayed with Lee Blasius, jumped through all the hoops to get the degree, and showed up to my defense,which began at 5. The first heartening comment was from Peter Westergaard: "let's get this thing over with. I have to be somewhere at 6:15." The rest of the faculty assembled said, "we haven't read your paper. Can you give us a summary?" I did. I played the recording of Cerberus, which was the dissertation piece, and the junior faculty commented on "ironic perturbations". The second reader remarked that my paper was proof that those who have taught write better papers, without agendas. And, as all dissertation defenses are, it turned out to be a non-event. Cindy Gessele and Lee and I went to the brew pub, and that was that. Doctor Davy. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY AND THEN SOME are none. We've avoided the Service Industry this week. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How come no one has commented on the irony of the current President being an advocate of Intelligent Design? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: squimp. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Real Pickles, Inko's Peach Tea, olives from the olives station at Shaw's, Wickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Essex, Newburyport and environs, including Woodman's. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 6. CHANGES TO THIS SITE: new piano trio listed on Compositions page; links broken by Web Easy fixed. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is lots of small flying insects. BIKE RIDES CONCLUDING BEFORE 9 AM THIS WEEK: 2. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 13 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: no more articles on spectral music. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Dunk A. Killjoy. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: original Peorpcia, Viagra available. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a pile of vomit, a pile of puke, a pile of that which was spewed, a pile of upchuck.

I have to presume that some students taking my classes are going to discover this page -- as I'm sure its de rigeur for new students to look up their professors on the web (which I never did because I did not have complete control of the dimensions of space and time, but I'm a-workin' on it) and read this thing for the first time this week and wonder how I can be so self-indulgent as to chronicle so many of the exceedingly dull events in my life. And believe me (actually, regular readers don't have to believe -- they are with the program), they are dull. I have decided, nerdlike, that it's like The Riddler. Story lines made it clear that the Riddler couldn't successfully carry off a job unless he sent Batman a clue embedded in a riddle. Similarly, the only way I can keep my e-mailbox clean of "where the heck is your update?" e-mails is to make new ones weekly. Plus, it's a "nice" way to spend a Monday morning. Hey, why "don't" I start using more of these "scare quotes"? After all, they are bound to produce "instant irony". I'll try, but "dear" reader, you'll have to "bear" with me.

As I predicted in this here very space, I finished my piano trio several hours after posting, entered the notes into Finale, and got ready to produce parts. I still had no title, and dadburned if I was gonna "call" it "Piano Trio No. 3", especially as it's really No. 4. So on my VERY early Tuesday morning bike ride (to West Acton), I gave myself the ultimatum (and there was no space to negotiate): come up with a title by the time I "return", because it's time to produce scores and parts. So just as I passed the Apple Country Animal Hospital (our vet), I "decided" on "Inside Story." The first movement "portrays musically" the cats playing, and the other two movements reference it mercilessly, so it's certainly an "inside job". Hey, it's "better" than nothing. I decided the piece was 14 minutes long, so don't hate me for being "beautiful".

This means that on Tuesday I made a big, wide trip. First, to "Brandeis" in order to use the "big" paper cutter so I could cut the 11x17 pages down to 11x14 for the pianist's score. Next, Kinko's in Framingham -- now called Kinko's-FedEx -- to bind the "sucker". Then, BJ's for more Inkos, tomatoes, what have you. And "back". And, finally, the trip to the post office to send the materials to Curt. Who got them and is already asking questions about notation and editing. Woo hoo. Curt confirmed the September 22 performance at Rice, which I won't make because it is Beff's birthday and because it is in Texas. This meant that I could spend the rest of the week on "other" things.

"Other things" included writing my 3 Brandeis syllabi (very time consuming, as the holiday schedule this year is extremely complex -- Music 101 has two fewer meetings than it did the last time I taught it), fielding e-mails about Brandeis stuff, and slowly weaning myself away from checking my e-mail every five minutes. Like Bruce Willis, chairman habits die hard. With a vengeance.

But a significant "other" thing was taking advantage of Boston Restaurant Week on Wednesday night. This included a drive to Alewife station, where we parked, a boring subway ride to Haymarket, a walk to Lee and Kate's place for hors d'oeuevres (I kinda pigged out on the gorgonzola) and then dinner at the Taranta restauarant in the north end. They were fun to be with, as usual, and the food was really good. And also as usual, Lee and Kate seemed on intimate terms with yet another restaurateur -- and by that very "familiarity," we learned that 90 of the 250 reserved for dinner that night were no-shows. Obviously a side effect of restaurant week, wherein hicks from the exurbs (me 'n' Beff, for "instance") make reservations at half a dozen restaurants, check them all out and park at the one that seems the "nicest". All the more food for ME! Actually, I had the chicken, which was delicious, and which reminded me of why I buy boneless breasts and not half chickens or whole chickens. Them what had the trout also said their meal was delicious. But fishy fish. E

Beff and I also decided to take our yearly end-of-summer little adventure trip to places nearby we've never seen. Last year it was the central south part of Massachusetts and we made some cool discoveries. This time Beff decided we'd see the Cogswell's Grant museum in Essex, followed by some random sightseeing without much leaving the "car". So we stopped first at the music department so I could leave my big keyboard off (I need it for my "teach-in" tomorrow and they will be closing off the Slosberg lot, those dummies), and Carolyn advised us to do Woodman's for lunch after the museum -- as they apparently "invented" fried clams in 1916. So the museum is an old farm house with lots of period stuff and a plastic porta-potty (as much fun to say as it is to eat) and a couple of Belgian show horses in the barn. We took the "tour", plowed into an antiques place on the main drag (which was a drag) and went to Woodmans. Which was a real adventure. The inside was like a seaside resort attraction from, well, 1916, and lots of clam things to order for lunch and dinner. Drinks come from a separate line from the food, and we both got the fried clam plates. Said plates included a mess o' fried clams, a mess o' fries, and a mess o' onion rings -- all of which tasted exactly the same -- the only difference was texture and hardness. I was "heartened" that Frank's hot sauce was among the available condiments, so I mixed it with ketchup in order to make the food taste a little less exactly the same. And it worked. Later we drove north on Routes 133, 1A and 97 and saw the very pretty downtown area of Newburyport, plowed through Haverhill (sort of Fitchburg with less character), and got back home in time to use the hammock.

And on Thursday we reacquainted ourselves with the "Battle Road" in the Minuteman Park. What is different this year is that there is now a bridge under a road, where last year there was a menacing looking sign saying END OF TRAIL GO AWAY I DON'T EVEN LIKE YOU ANYWAY. It was much more of an exercise than I'd remembered. And I was glad.

On Saturday Carolyn herself came over to rent some hammock time (please hammock don't hurt 'em), and due to a bicycle mishap (is there such a thing as a bicycle hap?) she got here later than planned. We fed her olives, pickles, Inko's and beer (oh my!) and struggled mightily to have conversations about things not related to Brandeis. We mostly succeeded, but that subject does tend to turn into a vortex from which one is lucky to escape. After Carolyn made it homewards, we took a long walk for exercise, and repaired homewards, although the location of our home is already fixed (think about it. Now stop. And stop again).

Yesterday was the day I set aside to begin my article on titles for New Music Box. After our very successful bike ride in the morning (one of our more exotic ones), and mowing the front and far back lawns, I decided to set up the backyard for casual computer use (that looks weird, but that's okay, because it "is" weird). I got a 100-foot extension cord, which I plugged into one of the outlets in the garage, plugged a surge protector into it, plugged my Power Book into it, and typed away. I didn't type "away", because that word isn't necessarily in the article. So I "typed" away. I had to run inside a few times for internet research (looking up titles), and I got about 6 or 7 paragraphs written before it started to rain. And then, to my complete surprise, I finished the article not long after coming inside with it. I was very proud of one joke in the article, which had to do with a possible Country and Western song title: "Even My Dung Beetle Don't Like You 'Cause You Ain't S**t". And Beff and I speculated on what life would be like for a cowboy who had a pet dung beetle. Well, not that much, because we have lives. But we "did".

This week classes begin, and I hop right in with three of them on Thursday. And every Thursday. And every Monday. And every Wednesday. Tomorrow -- the day that those Brandeis dung beetles are denying me my usual parking -- I do my Rubber Bands teach-in (a delightful meditation on the notion of tension and release, and everybody gets a free bouncy ball). Thanks to the parking thing, I'm taking the commuter rail in and back, and Beff has to drive me there and back, before she goes to Maine for a few days. Meanwhile, the big classroom in Slosberg (212) has been outfitted for bigtime AV, and I was given 3 possible times to come to be trained on it -- which, of course, I had to turn down. I can't give a teach-in at the same time I train on AV equipment, and there's the parking thing, and ... and meanwhile, it actually took quite a bit of time to write another diagnostic test for Music 101. I was reintroduced to the wonders of white-out (we had none in the house less than four years old) because I thought the points added up to 139 and they add up to 149 -- not to mention, I forgot that G above the bass staff has 3 leger lines and not 4. But I digress.

This week's pictures include two shots from Minuteman Park, the pumpkin-colored Cogswell's Grant farmhouse, Woodman's, Beff inside Woodman's, our food at Woodman's, the icky green stuff on the Assabet (it was supposed to be a picture of a distant Great Blue Heron, and our recycling bin, revealing mass quantities of Inko's consumed over the weekend. The movies ("yellow" text) are greatly sped up, of Beff riding by on our Wednesday trip to West Concord, passing through the tunnel in Minuteman Park, and crossing the commuter rail tracks on the West Concord trip.

SEPTEMBER 5. LABOR DAY. Breakfast this morning was a Smart Ones breakfast sandwich (major miscalculation on their part: the English muffin part comes out hard as a rock), orange juice, Trader Joe's grapefruit juice, and coffee. Dinner was super-lean cheeseburgers, salad, and home fries. Lunch was a Buffalo chicken sandwich, New England Clam Chowder, and Tazo tea at O'Naturals restaurant in Acton. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 52.9 and 86.4. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are a new can opener and wok at K-Mart, $31, pickles and vitamins in Groton, $38, and half a tank of gas, $22. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "I had to break the window" by Fiona Apple. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When my high school band was rehearsing (I use the word lightly and ironically) my first piece ever, I was the conductor and Verne Colburn -- being the regular conductor -- looked on. It was plain to see that lots of the band members didn't dig the piece, as it was atonal and strange, and they were doggin' it in one of our rehearsals. Verne came to the podium and chewed the band out (he did this at regular intervals, as it was the only thing that worked), and finished with a flourish, followed by a devastating silence. Which was broken by me remarking, "You're cute when you're mad." Verne struggled mightily not to smile, and succeeded. Just barely. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Sylvania Monitors, who, more than two weeks later, still have not sent the missing screw. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Why are Katrina victims being called "refugees" in the press? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: narkle. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: olives from the olive station at Shaw's, Inko's White Tea. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK The true extent of the original 1910 wiring of this house. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 7. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Performances updated to 2005-6, Signal to Noise link replaced. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is a few small flying insects and small strands of screen window. BIKE RIDES CONCLUDING BEFORE 9 AM THIS WEEK: 0. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 23 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: competent FEMA administrators. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Imani Klopp. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Re: Really Works VÉry Good CíAIS VIAGRRä. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a pine needle, the smaller part of the wishbone, a rolled-up newspaper, an electric grape.

The federal response to Katrina has been pathetic. Beff and I gave money to the American Red Cross, and hope that it will do some good. The FEMA response to the ice storm in Maine in 1998 that Beff and I lived through was excellent. This time, the fund raiser who runs the agency didn't even know that people needed help. Dear readers, can you tell the difference between Democratic and Republican appointees?

Classes started this week, and I was roarin' and ready. As usual, I taught unimpeachably, though it looks like this overload I'm teaching is going to wear me out a bit by November, especially with the composer search going on at the same time. I was a little wrecked by the end of Thursday -- which ended with me 'n' Justin going over, fine-toothed-combwise, his dissertation piece. On the plus side, the piece breaks a lot of new ground for him. On the minus side, the weather was gorgeous, we were inside, and the day made the end of summer official.

A new thing we have is an AV console in the big teaching room -- DVD, CD, and PC with a projector and a screen. The minus is that there is no equalization (can't turn up the bass or treble), that this console is only the temporary one, and that the new carpet in the room is also only temporary. All this and I doubt that the appointees in charge of wiring up the room are Republican fund raisers. However, it was a nifty toy to have for the two classes I teach in that room, as I got to demonstrate for one of them where they could go on the web to find the class materials, incidentally showing them the oh-so-crapful picture of me on the Brandeis web page. I am now endeavoring to make this room's nickname "the Boom Boom Room", and it looks like it will be an uphill battle. As if the end of summer weren't shocking enough, we already have a faculty meeting this coming Thursday. The Chair, Mary Ruth Ray, who is calling herself UV Ray now, promised the meeting would be "short and sweet, like Davy's meetings". Which was funny, because, even though my memories of my Chairman stint are hazy, I have sharp memories of our faculty talking and talking and talking in these meetings until someone came in and said, "I'm sorry, but we have the room now."

Most of my so-called productive time this week has been spent producing the materials for Fundamentals of Music, which will be, at 31 (so far) the largest class I've taught anywhere. For comparison's sake, the largest I taught at Stanford was 12, at Columbia was 24, and at Harvard was 6. How did they all get to be multiples of six? As of this morning, I have all the homework, and it has all been put online (since I didn't make them spend an extra 40 bucks for a workbook), and one of three quizzes ready. I also produced some nice little handouts with piano keyboards, a grand staff, a map of all the C's on the piano, and a nod to two very important pitches: A 440 and the 60 cycle hum. For those of you just joining in, I rule.

I also administered the dreaded diagnostic test for first year theory (this was Thursday) and promised results by day's end on Friday. And this is actually where the fun part of the week began. I would have used ironic quotes on the word fun, but I'm out of them after last week's ironyfest, and that's quite a narkle to deal with. As you can see, I'm saving them for actual quotes.

Several weeks ago you would have read here that our insurance company doesn't like houses with original 1910 knob and tube wiring. Not only didn't I know that, I didn't know what knob and tube wiring was. I still don't, but now I know what it looks like -- and it's like those spider webs in the basement: everywhere and hard not to notice once you know it's there. Okay, I have to work on that simile. For the first time I even saw a bunch of it in the attic, too. So the insurance company had sent us a cancellation notice. We promised, with little halos over our heads, to get the wiring modernized, and we were reinstated. And now that is happening. But first a little more context.

On Monday, plasterers came to fix the peeled plaster where water gets in in the alcove, and the bulge by the staircase. They plastered, but did not paint, and it was kind of destructive. Right now those two places are nice and smooth, but look like graffiti has been incompetently covered up with paint of the wrong color. We got some paint to paint over it (thus discovering an oriental market next door), and were planning on doing that painting this weekend after the plaster dried. Fast forward to Friday, at which point Beff was going to drive from Maine back to Maynard after breakfast.

A pair of electricians arrived at 7:23 am and scoped out this knob and tube stuff. At 8, as I was about to start grading the Music 101 exams, the head electrician said there were too many boxes in the attic covering all the important wiring under the floorboards and the junction boxes, and that if they weren't moved, it would likely double the cost of the job. I took stock of the situation: $2500 to rewire may only buy a tank or two of gas now, but it's still considerable money if it's double that. And the many boxes in the attic were not necessary for us to keep -- they were there more out of packrat tendencies than out of actual need. So from 8 to 9:20 I dutifully carried loads of boxes down two flights of stairs, out the front door, though the front yard and driveway into the garage. And I sweated -- it was great exercise, and I got a lovely black and blue mark on my right arm. By 9:20, noticing not a significant dent made, it occurred to me that tossing boxes out the attic window into the back yard was more efficient, not to mention way easier, and much more similar to a video game than carrying them out one by one (1 point for getting the box to land straight up, 2 points for straight up AND a ricochet off the mud room roof, 2 additional points for a full rollover on the ground and landing straight up). And I finished that part of the ordeal at 11 instead of about 2. I left the decision making on what boxes we really have to keep (turns out it's the banana boxes and the technology boxes for things less than 2 years old), and the rest were torn up into bitty pieces by Beff in order that they may be combined with oxygen to make a byproduct of "heat" in that little ol' thing we call the fireplace.

Complicating matters was a whole mess o' styrofoam and packing peanuts without a home. The decision was to break the styrofoam up, hustle it into big lawn bags, and put it in the trash. So for about 45 minutes we had what could only be called a styrofoam stomping party -- we considered inviting Big Mike for the fun, but there just wasn't enough to last long enough to justify the trip. And over the weekend, Beff spent a lot of time by the fireplace while bad TV was showing, burning all those boxes. My part of this job was organizing the saved boxes in the garage. They will be returned to the attic when the rewiring job is done, likely in October, and meanwhile the Corolla butt will be sticking out of the garage by a foot or two.

Meanwhile, as the metaphorical sound of dollars going down the drain was deafening -- as the cost of this rewiring was solidifying -- I listened in the distance with whatever the opposite of glee is as I heard banging and sawing and removal of plaster to get at the old wires. And when I saw the plaster patches afterwards, I had more of that opposite of glee thing. So now it looks like we're saving the painting until the end of the job. By which time we may actually have a clue how to paint. Just kidding.

So the Friday afternoon outdoors scene was a surreal one indeed. Beff was organizing and triaging a big pile of boxes while I finally was able to get to grading the Mus 101 exams, which I did at an Adirondack chair to the tune of rip, rip, squeeeege, rip, kaflump(tm). Grading the tests was very brainrotmachen, so I needed a break after every 4 or 5, during which I either transported boxes that made the cut to the garage, or worked more on the Mus 5 materials. Once or twice the pile had a few blown off it, and I ended up with 3 of the tests in the wrong pile. I finally finished the grading, sent out about 30 or 35 emails with registration codes for them what passed, and realized only on Sunday that 3 had still not been emailed. Big d'oh there, pardner, and I don't rule.

For comical effect, there is Saturday's dinner. When Beff is in town, we have this morning ritual. I ask "what do you want for dinner?" and Beff always replies, "What are my options?" which is ironic, because the options are always actually the same. This time, the choice was made for stir fry. We shopped, got stir fry stuff, I marinated some chicken for stir fry and was about to cut the vegetables when I realized -- the last time we did stir fry the wok looked so digusting that we tossed it. And here we were, planning stir fry without a wok. So. I drove to K-Mart, staying within local speed limits, picked up a Martha Stewart wok (she seems to rule everything at K-Mart), realized that the can opener we have is grody, doesn't work that well, AND dates back to the early 90s, and I got the MOST EXPENSIVE can opener they had -- twenny bucks. I liked it because it is black and matches the juicer on the counter. When I got back, the wok was supposed to be "seasoned", which is odd because I thought it tasted fine (rim shot). Boil water in it, then cook some oil 2 or 3 times. The boiling water thing turned out to be a good idea, because something not too appetizing-looking peeled off the bottom of the wok. And anyway, I made a nice stir fry and we tried the Korean teriyaki sauce for the first time. It was, as they say in Minsk, both appetizing and farty.

Other generic things to report this week are that our yearly BMI royalty checks arrived, and mine was absolutely gigantic -- as "Dream Symphony" brought in a big amount which I didn't have to share with Peters, who is still sitting on it. Of course, hearing from the electricians what the size of the job was kind of deflated that check. Karma, I think they call it. Or amrak, if they are talking backwards. I also finallygot contracts from Peters for the books of etudes (but not one for III?) which I signed, and also sent them recordings of things they didn't have. By the way, I was asked to supply biographical, photographical and other materials for their web page, so it looks like they are finally getting on the promotion bandwagon. I'm going to be famous, and, dear reader, you knew me when. And how. And as.

The andiron, or whatever it is called, in the fireplace has broken -- that's the piece of metal that holds up whatever you are burning -- so we went in search of it yesterday while combining it with a trip to Trader Joe's for some essentials. Nobody had the andiron, so that is prompting a trip to Home Depot tomorrow. While I am there, I am also looking for a tarp to cover the shed in the back yard to delay the rusting of the roof by a few years, bopping over to BJ's for more Inko's -- as I intend to stock my fridge at work with it -- and probably leisurely trips to the mall and Barnes and Noble because I can. Besides, I have to get out of the house early tomorrow morning when the Maids come to clean, and I have to go to town hall for trash stickers for our newly vast amount of it.

And finally. It's been 33 years since I last was in the room while the note names on the staff were taught, and that is soon to become my job. I think All Cows Eat Grass and Every Good Boy Does Fine are in serious need of updating. I posit for the first Reagan's explanation of global warming: All Cows Emit Gas. For the second, just random: Eat Goats But Don't Fart. Bass clef lines? How about Gina Bought Doug Five Ascots? I think F-A-C-E still spells face, right?

The packrattage of the attic included no fewer than 2 cheap stereo systems that no longer worked, 2 broken scanners, and a broken printer (not included on the original list on "Home" here), which for the life of me I don't know why we didn't throw out years ago. Plus, plenty of other things that made no sense to keep. There is photographage below in support of that hypothesis. But first we see the new can opener and its counter context (which makes a kind of counter statement), the new wok in the process of being seasoned, the kitties viewing the mess gathering outside, a bookshelf we have unexplainable held on to for all these years, a spider discovered in a garage window, and Beff in the early stages of organization. The movies (yellow text) are the boxes burning, Cammy going after a little wind-up toy, and a very small portion of the styrofoam stomping party.

SEPTEMBER 13. Breakfast this morning was Morningside Farms vegetarian breakfast sausage patties with Kraft 2% cheese, Trader Joes Smooth coffee, and Garelick Farms orange juice. Dinner was a Lean Cuisine salmon microwave dinner concoction that needed more cooking time than stated on the box. Lunch was a big big salad with Good Seasons dressing and Inko's Blueberry White Tea. Mornigside Farms, Kraft Foods, Trader Joes, Garelick Farms, Good Seasons, Lean Cuisine and Inko's White Teas have not paid a promotional fee for mention in this space, though Inko's DID send me a groovissimo t-shirt a while ago. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 45.0 and 87.3. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are this winter's heating oil (1100 gallons prepaid), $2442, Font Lab for Macintosh, $299, garbage stickers $60, chimney cleaning $119, and half a tank of gas, $19. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "God is a DJ" by Pink. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I voted for Jesse Jackson in the 1988 Massachusetts Democratic primary. He didn't win. A mere five months later, I stood right behind the man as he speechified on the steps just outside the music building at Stanford. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Pro View Monitors (who handle Sylvania Monitors). COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is Finale Music, who authorized 3 installs for my Finale 2006 on 3 computers used only by me. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Why don't more people use "Let's not play the blame game" as a standard response to massive screwups? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: pangistic. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Real Pickles, Bubbie's Pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK The fun of teaching music fundamentals. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 3.6. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Performances by Amy D and Adam M added. New link to Beff's UMaine site fixed on some pages. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is a crumpled up piece of newspaper. BIKE RIDES CONCLUDING BEFORE 9 AM THIS WEEK: 0. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 27 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: free hats for composers. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Matilda Cierra. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Hot Demand Popular Meds At Cheeap money hard . FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I've done wrong and I wanna suffer for my sins. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the shadow of your smile, the look of love, the unbearable lightness of being, a vintage WW II army helmet.

Dear readers, as I type this Great Road -- the swatch from Erikson's Dairy to the Mobil station -- is being repaved. The smell is sweetly sickening and the sounds vintage. Classic, even. Maynard Public Works apparently subscribes to the classic method of repaving: rip the road up so that it has the capacity to shred tires, leave it that way for at least a week (two if you play the game right) and start laying pavement down in the middle of rush hour for maximum inconvenience. Repaving is a popular thing in this part of the world this week, as on my drive home yesterday I negotiated not one, but two lengthy detours around parts of Route 117. It only added 5 miles or so to my 14-mile drive, but it doubled the drive time. At least the detours were better marked than the street signs in Boston. So we have been blessed with a few orange signs locally that we don't usually benefit from: Rough Road, Bicyclists Take Note, and E.T. Phone Home. I put that last one in there to see if you were still following along. Oh, and I see there is another step to the paving that I left out: pave one lane, lay out a line of cones unevenly, and take a lengthy break.

Big Mike (kaching!) and Carolyn (kaching!) tell me that they were speaking of the possibility of a kind of performance art wherein you do something suitably distinctive to be mentioned in Davy's blog. Well, the first thing is, I don't think of this thing as a blog but more of a pangistic thing. Beff (kaching!) calls it my update (rolls right off the tongue, doesn't it?), but other times she calls it my blog. But I guess Big Mike (kaching!) and Carolyn (kaching!) can call it whatever they want. Score so far: Big Mike 2, Carolyn 2, Beff 1.

Now that school is in full swing and I have a full Monday teaching schedule, I think I will be doing my updates on Tuesdays. I would have to get up at 4 to continue doing it on Mondays, and that would be bad. I have been introduced to the wonder of TAs, who take two of my classes per week, rescuing me on Monday and Thursday from severe laryngitis and bummerhood. Wednesdays, though, the effect of teaching an overload shines through: an hour lecture at 10, an hour lecture at 11 and an hour lecture at 1 followed by an independent study with Max (kaching!) is pretty taxorific. Compound all that with the suddenly hot weather here and the massive failure of the air conditioning system in the music building and it spells jello. I have, though, very much enjoyed teaching fundamentals, as it is a large and very bright-eyed class, and some newer students have made it decidedly interactive. Meanwhile, Theory 1 is huge this year and we got a second section authorized. Seung-Ah (kaching!) was hired to teach it, and starting tomorrow I have a more manageable class size. And in "Undegraduate Composition" (the "r" is missing in the official course listing) I have asked students to bring in examples of bad prosody. I made this assignment and then realized I hadn't defined prosody, so there was ova sulla mia facie. I myself am bringing in "Gold" by Spandau Ballet, which repeats an execrable scanning of "indestructible" countless times.

The real accomplishment of the week is, I guess, the carrying of 11 lawn bags of styrofoam, an old convertible couch mattress and a big box full of packing peanuts and tent to the street, and sticking 23 $2 trash stickers on them and our usual garbage. It was fun watching the garbage truck linger as it picked everything up. Okay, I made that part up. It wasn't fun. But I watched in case they decided not to take some of it. Another accomplishment, which is a side benefit of the same large drive, was a trip to Home Depot to get a tarp to cover the storage shed, along with rope and pegs to keep it down. We measured the roof and I got a tarp that was billed as 2 inches longer per side than my measurement -- which is not how it worked in real life, of course; like Milton Babbitt, it's a little short. The typical thing was that the tarp was in a box marked "12' by 9' tarp!" and the package listed the measurements as 11'6" by 8'6". I had been sent by Beff (kaching!) in search of a new andiron for the fireplace -- the old one broke and the hardware stores said they don't carry fireplace stuff until the end of September -- and after a 3- or 4-mile trek through the store I got the answer: we don't carry fireplace stuff until the end of September. So Beff (kaching!) and I installed the tarp on Friday, and it was remarkably stress free. And you can hardly tell there is a tarp there at all. Which is why I'm doing the telling.

Ash-Go came and cleaned the chimney on Friday and contracted to put a cover on the chimney later in the month. Two more electrician vi$it$ have been scheduled, the second of which is October 3, for those of you playing along at home. Geoffy (kaching!) will be here to let them in that day, as I leave for work around 6:30. I have been doing whatever the opposite of admiring is to the plaster patches they left where they had to get to the old wires. I was delighted to hear, by the way, from the head electrician that previous electricians had left a pull string in the attic, which will make their jobs easier. I nodded dutifully, not having any idea what he was talking about.

For the first time ever, I received an e-mailed "Response to Blog" from Big Mike (kaching!) and the pressure was on. He did give me some nice new mnemonics for the lines and spaces of the staff (Even God Believes Darwin, Fool), and I noted in Fundamentals that mnemonics is my favorite word that begins with a silent "m". As they said on the Sopranos, mno problem, dude. I believe the equilibrium of the universe is maintained, though, by Eddie Jacobs (kaching!) who adds an un-silent initial "m" to "Bye Bye" at the end of his phone conversations. Yes, he does say "Mbye-bye!" So no m's are out of work, nor have any been harmed in the teaching of musical lines and spaces. Geoffy (kaching!) contributed the bass clef lines: Groovy Bassists Do Funk Albums. The cool thing about that is, it's how he talks.

After a long bike ride with Beff (kaching!) on Friday -- the one by the nature viewing area in Stow -- we did lunch at the Airport Cafe at the Minuteman Air Field, which was totally delish. We continued to obsess on the andiron situation, and we actually asked the waitress for a yellow pages so we could look up fireplace stores. She did the lookin', in fact, but all the stores were rather far away. So instead we had fun. And Beff (kaching!) had to go back early on Saturday for rehearsals for a concert next weekend -- I will go to Maine for that -- and early in the morning we took our old stereos and scanners etc. from the attic to the monthly Bigass Trash day at the Maynard Recycling Center. As usual, the workers scavenged, keeping in this case the old crappoliforic speakers. I winced a little when they tossed the old stereo a not insignificant distance into the shovel part of a big piece of machinery until I remembered -- it was a piece of crap.

After Beff (kaching!) left, I indulged myself in a bit of nostalgia -- I made a font, thereby learning Font Lab. Fontographer was never updated to run in OS X, so I got this one, which has some of the same features, but enough of a different interface to make some of the work maddening -- not unlike the difference between Finale and Sibelius. Or totally unlike it, I forget which. This was a finely detailed font with a lot of fixin' to do, so I had that rare thing where I look up and notice it's 1:20 am without realizing it. Boy, talk about ova sulla facie.

Actually, the first bit of business after Beff's (kaching!) departure was lunch in Hudson at the Horseshoe Pub with Big Mike (kaching!) just as a way to get my Buffalo wing fix. We sat in the patio outdoors, I also had some wheat beer, and we had a waitress with a voice not unlike that of the prostitute in "The Man With Two Brains" who keeps saying "I Don' Mind!". And pencil-thin, sculpted eyebrows that looked like runes. I don't think we talked about work very much, but who can know? Later I checked on the big bridge for the bike path going over the Assabet, and it's still not back up yet. Then I took a catnap, which turned into a 2-hour affair.

It has been dry again, and the water level of the Assabet is back down, thereby once again revealing the face of the Ben Smith dam. On my way to view the dam, I met the new owner of the house once occupied by the dog Samson, and his dog Molly, a large orange retriever-type mutt. When I was doing yard work (mostly pulling out vines), Molly approached me as if I had a whole bunch of bones formerly reserved for Samson but now available for any dog. And she was right. So with the new ownership of this house, that means all four houses abutting us to the east have changed owners since we moved in. And that makes us the Senior Landowners on this part of the block. I may have to have a ribbon made up that says that. And wear it ostentatiously as I parade by all of their front porches. Okay, I'll stop now.

This weekend I was struck by a cleaning and tidying up frenzy. I rearranged the bookshelf of scores and filed about 4-1/2 years of sketches into one pile. They are on 11x17 paper, two systems of 4 on each page, and the pile measures 2-5/8 inches thick. Which is impressive. I then finally got to the 4 years of junk that has accumulated in my car, discovered that I have 5 road atlases in it, and a pile of CDs (kaching! -- Carolyn's initials get credit here) that was most impressive. I had TWO of "Tower of Power compilation 2", thinking I had lost the first one obviously. And about 8 CDs without cases and, coincidentally, about 8 empty CD cases. So dear readers, it is no longer disgusting for you to drive in the back seat of my car.

And alas, some leaves are starting to turn. Mostly on the Route 117 detours, but they are turning nonetheless. Yesterday, by the way, was a hot one and the first time in a month I had to turn the air conditioner on. My exercise ride was the West Concord ride, which was multifaceted: BofA ATM to transfer funds, CVS to renew a prescription, Dunn Oil to prepay for our oil, the ride to West Concord, the purchase of 3 jars of Real Pickles, the ride back, to CVS to pick up the prescription (Lisinopril), and back. The weather was so nice I spent some time on the hammock instead of writing this thing. And the rest is his story.

Pro View monitors -- the company that handles Sylvania monitors -- finally came through with the missing screw. I had wanted to embarrass them into sending it the fastest and most expensive way possible (don't get mad -- get irrational), and what they did was stick it in a regular envelope with 37 cents of postage. Of course, the screw being a screw, the envelope ripped and the Postal Service had to stick the whole thing in one of their rescue envelopes. It was hilarious, when you come right down to it.

Today's movie (yellow text on the left) is the long downhill portion of the Nature viewing area bike ride, sped up greatly for your convenience. The pictures are of the CDs (kaching!) rescued from my car, the screw from Pro View as it got to me, the Ben Smith dam, the newly installed tarp (see yellow pegs?), Big Mike (kaching!) at lunch, and the top of our sickly front yard maple tree, already turning.

Final score: Beff 7, Big Mike 5, Carolyn 4, Geoffy 2, Max 1, Eddie 1, Seung-Ah 1. Amy D and Adam M (from credits) 1 each.

SEPTEMBER 20. Breakfast this morning is coffee and orange juice. Dinner was a Smart Ones Creamy Tuscan Chicken microwave meal, and real lemonade. Lunch was a big salad with European salad lettuce, campari tomatoes, and Trader Joe's balsamic vinaigrette dressing. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 53.6 and 85.8. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are none! POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I had a $100 stereo cassette player in my bedroom when I was in high school -- before the days of boom boxes -- and I separated the speakers so that they were as far across the room from each other as possible. I delighted at the cheesy stereo demonstration cassette from Radio Shack, and when friends were over, delighted even more at playing Jesus Christ Superstar -- as mean ol' Caiaphas monopolized the left speaker AND had a really low voice. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Where's the beef? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: cridden. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: none! DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Gasoline in Maine is 30 cents cheaper. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 9. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Broken links on teaching page fixed, new names on home page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is nothing. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 8. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 21 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: rationing of the octatonic scale. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Art Butts. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: fw. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I wanna make a mistake. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE last week's homework, a microphone cable, that thing you do, twelve of them.

Dear readers, the romance of returning to teaching is over, as this is the week that more time is spent outside the classroom correcting and grading homework than in the classroom actually teaching. Finding the same old mistakes (such as writing the leading tone to D# as D instead of C double sharp, or equating an augmented fourth and a diminished fifth) is not so nostalgic as it is frustrating. Alas, I'm the sort of guy who feels the need to give a mini-lecture in red pen on the page to mistakes of this nature. At this rate, homework may soon be returned with discs containing Power Point presentations about concepts not yet osmosed. But then again, I may be exaggerating. In any case, the real challenge of teaching this week was presenting, in both first year theory and fundamentals, the real difference between enharmonically equivalent notes. I dropped the name Mariah Carey, and I'll leave the reader's imagination for how that happened.

There was actually a bit of traveling this last weekend, as I drove to Bangor (and back) for Beff's faculty group concert at U Maine opening this year's concert season. I had planned on driving up Saturday and back on Sunday, but them what make predicted the former Ophelia to be having her way with the state of Maine on Saturday, so I drove up a day early. While there, there was no want of things to do, but I did seem to spend far too much time asleep. Perhaps it was the humidity in the air, perhaps it was the lack of my usual gastronomic obsessions in the refrigerator (I had gone to a convenience store for pickles, which basically got inhaled), or perhaps it was the wait time as I did auxiliary e-mail by dial-up. I am STILL weaning myself off of chairman-grade e-mail needs, and felt proud at restricting myself to three logons per day -- which, given that it was dial-up, was like about ten or something.

I had come a little earlier than expected, and so I took a roundabout way in, passing through Brewer and stopping at Marden's -- a fell-off-the-truck kind of surplus store -- where I hoped to find gastronomic obsessions. My original primal cravings for stuffed olives came from jalapeno-stuffed olives I got there maybe eight years ago. All that was available were sugary cookie substances, but I did find a jar of vitamins and a 16-pack of alkaline batteries, the latter of which was to come in handy. And to Birch Street I came, admiring the tastefulness of decorating in a house where my preferences carry no weight. Beff was at work taking a student to buy a clarinet mouthpiece, so I took a walk in the neighborhood, encountering again the Hose Fire something museum (nobody ever seems to go in there) and the massive headquarters (probably a room) of Coffee News -- who make the placemats with little tidbits of local gossip that you get at local diners and other fine dining establishments. Meantime, Beff and I lounged in the afternoon, she had to do a 7pm rehearsal, and after that we drove to Old Town to go to the Chocolate Grill. I like the place because of the deep fried pickles, so we had those (they were greasier this time than they have been before), shared a blackened tuna salad, and had some soup.

Our house in Bangor (which you can view through the Our House links) is a bungalow from the 1920s or 30s, and it's well built and designed -- not to mention nicely decorated. I delight in going into the basement and seeing both the old furnace -- a tin man construction with octopus arms going into all the rooms -- and the new one -- forced air heat. Though it's a small house, there are actually three heating zones and thus three thermostats -- great if you like that European thing of sleeping where it's cold and dressing where it's warm (in my case that would be sleeping in Montreal and dressing in Florida --- rim shot). The water table is high, as it's just up the street from the Penobscot River (say that five times fast), so when it rains, plenty of water gets into the basement. Since Saturday was Ophelia's day to have her way with the area, I finally got to experience Beff's story about the house -- every 45 minutes or so you heard the sump pump kick on and start a-flushin'.

So in the midst of the substantial rain, and after Beff's sound check at noon, we drove to the Sea Dog for lunch. It was really quite good, and Beff got her old standby the Teri Tuna sandwich. I actually have forgotten what I got, so I'll have to get back to you. The original plan had been to follow lunch with a walk around downtown Bangor, but the rain and wind were a little strong for that, so there was just a brief trip to the library (largest number of books per capita in America), the Grasshopper Shop, and a used book store. Followed by a muggy afternoon reading and sleeping. With sump pump interruptions.

The concert was well-attended, and Beff carried out her customary multiple functions. During her leave, the hall had been wired for recordings, apparently by doofi (plural of doofus) -- the permanent microphones are against the walls on the side, at an angle to capture plenty of ambient sound, but not much of the original sound. So Beff set up her DATman, and used -- ka-zing! -- the batteries I had bought at Mardens. One of the features of the concert was the newly rebuilt Steinway, which was not yet ready for prime time -- the Bflat below middle C was for all intents and purposes dead, and even full-stick it sounded like it was full of cotton balls. Several pianists struggled valiantly with it, and one actually managed to get some music out of it. Just about every possible faculty member played something on the concert, and the Debussy Sonate for flute, viola, and harp was simply called "Trio" on the program. Beff's new piece for flute, blass clarinet and marimba was performed but with some major problems (marimba player skipping three lines in the part, for instance), so I didn't get the full effect of the piece. I am hoping to hear a tape of an actual performance if they can get a recording session together.

Meanwhile, during these times when Beff is away from Maynard for long bits, she has expressed an interest in having cat pictures up here. I have done her one better -- on Sunday after my return, I used my little camera to make action movies of the cats to the extent that was possible. I then imported them all into iMovie (or iMovie HD as it now calls itself), and burned an autoplay DVD so that Beff can just stick it in and watch it while she grades. Two subsets of that movie have been put here, greatly sped up, in the yellow text on the left. Meanwhile, out of sequence I can report that I drove back Sunday morning through drizzle to greatly changeable weather in Maynard, finished the grading for Fundamentals (most common score: perfetto), and dove headfirst into recommendation writing season.

While in Bangor, I discovered that the Windows computer there has the data files for this page as of April, 2003. Since Idon't archive these updates (our correspondent in Iceland once asked why not), I will give you the text of that one, for the sake of nostalga, and especially for the sake of taking up space.

APRIL 1. Happy April Fool's Day. Today's breakfast was Pepperidge Farm Potato Wheat toast with marmalade, coffee, and orange juice, at the MacDowell Colony. Later in the day (today) I drove home for kitty doody duty and to deal with a large pile of e-mail that's hard to do at MacDowell, where the line for the e-mail computer stretches around the block. Even though technically there are no blocks at MacDowell. Guest breakfast is Laura Hendrie (from Brooklin, Maine currently), who had two sunnyside up eggs, a poached egg, toast, orange juice, and tea. Laura is a novelist.

During my time at MacDowell I have taken a week off for Amy's events, including an outreach event at the MacDowell Colony for students of the Well School, colonists, and Board members, and two concerts. And a snowstorm, naturally, during that week. I have started and finished a fairly dense 9-minute first movement for string orchestra (213 bars at a fast tempo and one section that repeats), written 60 bars of a scherzi movement that I tossed out, written another 18 bars that I also threw out, and 40 bars of a scherzi movement that I am apparently going to keep -- even though it is screamingly fast music. I probably won't finish the scherzi movement before I leave MacDowell (April 11), but there will be at least one more update of NEWS before I go to Yaddo (April 17). Amy's concerts were all fantastic.

A very favorable review of Amy's etude disc appeared in the Chicago Tribune on Sunday, and it is now quoted on page 2 of Reviews. Meanwhile, the fellow artists at the MacDowell Colony have given nights of presentations in spurts -- a week without a presentation followed by ten consecutive nights of them, etc. It is always amazing to see how many fabulously gifted people there are in the world that you haven't heard of. Last night, it was a playwright with some great monologues; the night before, two very different and fascinating poets. And the night before that, a very young and gifted visual artist. The fun never stops. For the record, I'm presenting Ten of a Kind on the night of April 7. I plan to serve Scotch.

Beff has been away from Maynard for the last several weekends, gracing this house on Thursday night for the first time in a very long time. In the mean time, she played host in Maine to Hayes Biggs, who was the distinguished visiting composer, and went to Eddie's festival at ECU in North Carolina, where Soooooooozie and Chris Oldfather did a whole mess of her songs. Beff's travel agent booked her to Greenvile, South Carolina instead of Greenville, North Carolina, and she claimed not to be fazed by the extra six hours of driving that caused her.

It is cold here again, and I have built a fire. Even snow is predicted for this afternoon. This winter and spring suck. Though the warmest temperatures here in Maynard this season have been 68.9 degrees, twice. It was 62.3 in Peterborough.

NEWS FLASH; I have discovered and extracted more Buttstix. Picture to appear when they are identified, cleaned, and labeled.

Pictures today are from my backyard (the crocuses, from last Saturday), from a practice room at Brandeis (that's Amy and a piano reflecting the ugly-ass admin buildings across the way from the music building) and from the MacDowell Colony. The snow picture represents how much was there the day I got there, and the sunset shots were taken last night.

I find it kind of funny ("It is interesting to note...") that I referred to the movement I was writing as a "scherzi" movement.

On Thursday there was a party in the music building for the department with a motley assortment of people and a wide variety of foodstuffs that were Carolyn-chosen and -procured. I took my little camera to record the event, and found out that it sucks for this kind of event -- lighting from above that is not usual room darkness or outdoor darkness. Just about every one was out of focus, and I was able to salvage maybe three from about 30 taken. Thankfully, food -- which doesn't move very much until you eat it -- did not go all out of focus on me.

Oh yes, while I am reporting out of sequence -- before the concert on Saturday, we went to an art opening on the U Maine campus, at Carnegie Hall (the "practice, practice" jokes flew in abundance). Beff said that she usually saw conceptual art there, but this exhibit was a more straightforward one of portraits of "truth tellers" as protest to the current political climate. Basically, plenty of really big postage stamps with writing on them. There was, of course, reception-type food, and when I poured myself a little plastic of wine, I heard "that'll be $3.50" from an arty type who was several miles from any sign that said "Wine: $3.50". So as not to embarrass myself (note to self: wine at music receptions is free; wine at art receptions is not; wine at theater receptions is yet to be determined), I ante'd up and calculated the 63 cents per gulp that I was spending so that the putrid taste would seem less putrid. I get the feeling, based on my quick quality control investigation, that I paid for the whole bottle and everybody else got free wine. And for the first time in some time, Beff and I had a substantial discussion about the intent and quality of the art. We Gingriched.

This afternoon the School of Creative Arts hosts a barbecue, and I am a celebrity chef. Indeed, color posters with a cheesamundo picture of me have been up in the music building for some time ("Slosberg? Schoenberg? Give me a hamburg!") and yesterday I wore my chef's hat to teach. This may be the first time in history that the minor scale was introduced by someone wearing a chef's hat. And tomorrow I get to play Happy Birthday in minor for the sake of effect. I rule.

This week there are the two little cat movies in yellow text, and pictures all from Maine, including: the old octopus furnace in the basement, Carnegie Hall, a rain splatter from outside the Sea Dog, the Hose Museum, the remains of our salad at the Chocolate Grill, and Liz and Denny at the reception after the concert.

SEPTEMBER 27. Breakfast this morning is veggie microwave sausages, coffee and a wee bit o' orange juice. Dinner was Hebrew National 97 percent fat free hot dogs with a fireful bunch o' condiments, and limeade. Lunch was a lot of tomatoes and a little lettuce in a salad with Good Seasonings salad dressing. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 39.7 and 82.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "ABC" by the Jackson 5. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are materials for some house rewiring, $177; house lighting and fireplace hardware, $78. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When we were grad students, we lived in half a house on Wiggins Street with a small back yard. At the back of that yard was a tree that formed a canopy. In warm weather, I got into the habit of taking a chair and music paper and a pencil into the little canopy and writing (it was my violin concerto at the time). I'm not sure if Martler and Beff ever used it, but it did come to be known as the Composer Canopy. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are gas stations. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is, again, Inko's Healthy White Tea, who are sending specimens of their new flavors. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Where do flies go in the winter? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: alunt. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: olive antipasto salad, various kinds of pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the Wachusett Reservoir Dam, and my free web space at Brandeis. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 8. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: A few new recordings referenced, new links on Home, a basket of fries. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is a little fraying of computer room bags. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 6. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 3 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Napoleon Dynamite lunchboxes for everybody. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Doctor. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: The Ultimate Online Pharmaceutical. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I can't help it, the road just rose up behind me. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a bag of alunt, sixteen clothespins, a Red Sox reliever, a hummingbird feeder.

Dear readers, crunch time has arrived and still I spend time for your pleasure, or whatever the opposite of pleasure is, writing these here updates. It is less than a week to the application deadline for the composer position, and then there is not much time for the committee to examine the materials. But dagnabbit, we will, and it will be good. I spent a large portion of Sunday reading applications and listening to submitted materials, and I got through fewer than I had anticipated, but that was fine. I found out a lot about quite a few composers who had been unknown to me, some of whom are worthy of our consideration. The only drawback to spending that time was the backache from picking out the materials, reading the files, bringing the recordings to the CD player, etc. Since what goes on internally is confidential, I can't bring up specific numbers, but I am impressed that I could imagine some people unknown to me as future colleagues. What my colleagues will think I do not know. I have read about half of the applications that have arrived, but I imagine that will be a much smaller proportion by week's end. Currently Carolyn (ka-ching!) is fielding e-mails asking the name of the Chair of the search committee. I'm not sure how she is responding.

I do wish to say that, despite the great amount of time it takes to correct and grade homeworks now, this is still rather an enjoyable teaching time, and fundamentals remains fun (to be almost alliterative). Yesterday I apportioned triads among various portable keyboards and the classroom piano, taught students how to play them and play them at my signal, and when we were fully rehearsed, we played along with "She Drives Me Crazy" and "You're Still the One." Then I started in on intervals. Meanwhile, in first year theory I introduced species counterpoint, and I still have a little ways to go before I will have crammed those heads to bursting with information. I didn't get to the no consecutive semitones in the same direction or no outlining tritones rules, but I will, Oscar, I will. Last week I ended up by doing a figured bass realization in C# minor (the class's choice) that was killa. Totally killa. I still got it, yo.

Meanwhile, I also did a few font characters for Uncle Max for engraving flute fingerings onto scores, and it was way easier for me to do them than explain font structure, hinting, path directions, and font formats -- not to mention the editing interface. Yo, I rule, I still got it, yo.

And on Tuesday I did my stint as Celebrity Chef a-flippin' burgers for the School of Creative Arts barbecue, which was just a little frustrating because nobody got enough of anything -- not enough starter fluid, so the cooking started late while a bunch of strangers, plates held high, looked at me accusatorily for not heaving burgers onto those plates, and not enough buns or burgers. Indeed, there was about half as much as last year's, and it ran out by the time chorus was dismissed. So I left the area, plate held high, eating the last, bunless burger. I smelled like smoke for the next two days (I told people it was honeysuckle).

Meanwhile, in the sacred time with Beff, we got to do Quarterdeck seafood for her birthday dinner (as Thursday had been her birthday) on Friday, and some circumnavigations of bodies of water on Saturday. We took some pictures of the Quarterdeck wine list so as to show Lee Hyla what great wines he said they had (he responded that the wines he liked are no longer on the menu), and did an all-appetizer dinner. I kept asking the waitress what sort of free stuff we got for people with birthdays (she should have responded that everybody has a birthday, but, you see, she does not know me), but all we got was beer, chowda, salad, Buffalo tenders, and scallops wrapped in bacon. During down time, Beff captured some audio to her computer -- she couldn't get the 828 to work in OS X, so we had to start from flippin' System 9, and this all happened while I was at Brandeis for Jeremy's orals (he passed). For some reason, we went to Papa Gino's for lunch on Friday (actually the reason was that the electricians were working on the kitche), and then moseyed to Ace Hardware for a fireplace brush and Shaw's for some food and firewood and whatever else appropriate began with "f". Later we rented Napoleon Dynamite at the video store, which we watched Friday night.

Mindy Wagner had told me I simply HAD to see this movie -- and I accidentally caught the last 20 minutes on HBO, used a catchphrase on Beff ("I caught you a delicious bass"), and she grudgingly agreed to watch it. Some students in my composition class knew the movie, and they seemed either to love it or hate it, though everyone certainly knew the tag lines ("are you drinking 1% because you think you're fat?"). So we hunkered down, watched it, found out it was an MTV films release, and I rather liked it. Beff, not so much (she later said that one line from "Weeds" was funnier than all of Napoleon Dynamite). Truly, it was a bunch of silly skits loosely put together, but the characters were so -- cringe-inducing -- that I found it mostly irresistible. On the other hand, there is definitely something wrong with me. And it's not just the earlobes.

So to celebrate the gorgeosity of Saturday's weather, we decided on a little hike around the pond at the nature viewing area in Stow/Harvard, which turned out to be rather a long hike, and then thought we'd take a little drive around the Wachusett Reservoir to see if there were any scenic areas. After the hike, of which at least a mile was on the road, we popped into the grocery cum orchard stand on the corner of 117 and 110 in Bolton, and delighted at the great variety of fresh-picked produce and exotic condiments, not to mention the ready availability of rest rooms. I got a bag of really big tomatoes and a bag of really small plums, as well as various experiments -- such as "Bone Sucking Sauce" -- and we packed up and drove through Clinton, etc., as we made our way around the reservoir. After a full revolution, we found the public parking area right where the dam is, walked down to mortal level, took pictures, and walked back up. On our way back up, a woman asked us if the Red Sox were playing that day, and I made something up ("yes", I think I said).

After all that impromptu hiking, we thought we'd cruise into Hudson and find someplace not called the Horseshoe Pub for lunch, and to that end I called Big Mike (ka-ching!) for advice. But alas, he not there. So we drove up Route 85 to see what was there, and we ended up at Applebees, where I got the Asian chicken wrap and Beff didn't. After a brief trip to TJ Maxx, we came home and did really, really important things. For instance, following Carolyn's (ka-ching!) example, I figured out that not only was I entitled to free web space as Brandeis faculty, I could actually use it. By navigating deep, dark crevasses within the Brandeis site, I was able to find how much I get (a gig), how to get to it, what it is called, and how to send files to it -- to that end, I downloaded Fugu (as Carolyn (ka-ching!) told me, it was the fish Homer Simpson almost died eating), which is just an FTP program. And I used it to transfer some files, most of them sound files, so that in the future when people ask for perusal CDs I can just direct them to URLs instead. Meanwhile, I invited Beff to put some video samples in that space to reference from her web page, and we stuck one small example there. You can find that on Beff's page.

Also on Friday was Electricians Rewire The House And Make Many New Holes day #2. At one point, as many as (as in,exactly) three electricians were a-workin', installing new lighting in the basement, fixing most of the ceiling lights and outlets in the first floor, and snipping out ALL of the old knob and tube wiring. Of course, by doing that, they cut off electricity to the ceiling fans on the second floor, as well as to the guest room, the bathroom, and to one outlet each in the computer room and master bedroom. Two of the outdoor lights are also now still not connected. They made a quick exit, very slightly apologizing for the inconvenience of leaving us in the dark for ten days, and leaving with such ferocious haste as to create a Doppler shift (the lead guy, a tenor, became a baritone on the way out). So in order for us to get by with some normalcy until October 3 -- and to have a bunch of superflous electricity stuff cluttering up the place after that date -- I went to K-Mart for extension cords and camping-type reading lamps (you know, the ones that are supposed to look like upright lamps with shades but are a one-piece plastic construction that look more like green and white mushrooms), but they had only the extension cords -- I got two 15-footers (and a bunch of Temptations cat treats, way cheaper there than at Shaws). Acton Ace Hardware, on the other hand, had bigass camping flashlights and TWO of those kinds of mushroomy reading lamps. While I was there, carrying an armful of stuff, I noticed that the fireplace stuff was out, so I got an andiron, too. So one extension cord goes from the one working outlet in the bedroom to the side that has our clocks and reading lamps. The other connects from the free outlet in thecomputer room to another 9-foot extension cord to power the fan that keeps our bathroom fresh-smelling. The mushroom lamps were installed in the guest room and hallway. The bigass flashlight now faces up on the toilet for nighttime convenience. And the other extra flashlight is a general one for the sake of navigation in the hallway. First and only visitor to avail himself of this major D-battery regaliafest: Geoffy (ka-ching!). I am now used to highstepping upstairs so as not to trip on the extra wires (indeed, give me a baton and a hat that makes me look like a Q-tip and I'd be a dead ringer for a drum major), and Geoffy will have to do the same.

I also got the first edit of Beff's and my tangos from Amy D's tango project, and we are very happy. You can hear mine from somewhere secret on this website, or by already knowing where to go to hear it. Expensive microphones and an in-tune piano go a long way towards making Davy not a dull boy.

And so as I said -- on Sunday I drove into Brand-x to look over applications, and while there met with a grad student, for whom I am not the reader, to look at his paper before he sends it to his first reader -- thus making me both his pre-reader and his second reader (once again, dear readers, Davy explodes conventions of cardinality and ordinality). And then instead of making do in my office with the applications, I took them home, and gave myself several degrees of backache reading them and listening to them. All this while watching the Red Sox (won) and Patriots (won) and tripping over at least one cat whenever I went into the kitchen for a drink. Cammy found the box holding the applications quite interesting, and when it became half empty, he delighted at making it half cat.

My piano trio "Inside Story" was to be premiered this week. It was to be at Rice University, in Houston, on Thursday. We all know what happened instead. Incredibly, Curt, the violinist, e-mailed to apologize for it not happening, as if he could control the weather (if he could, he's getting paid WAY too little).

All the little movies that have appeared in this space since June are now archived in my Brandeis web space. Ask me where, and I'll tell you. Meanwhile, I was hard pressed to come up with a good one for this week -- every time the cats were being cute, I went for the camera and by the time I returned they were lying down and sleeping (I'm pretty slow these days). But I did get a piece of one frantic playing episode, which is short enough that I did not have to speed it up -- see yellow text up there on the left. The pictures are of the pond we walked around, and a bit of the trail, a big ceramic apple outside the market in Bolton that has the downtown of Bolton, such as it is, painted onto it, a fountain at the bottom of the Wachusett dam (the rainbows made by the water are much more evident in person), and a panorama cobbled from 5 shots of the dam looking south, west, and north (into Clinton). The figures in the picture are, in real life, still frozen in that position.

OCTOBER 3. Breakfast this morning was coffee and orange juice and a few swigs of pure lemon juice. Dinner was some disgusting fast food. Lunch was California rolls and some lovely Tom Yum soup made from a mix purchased at the Asian market in Acton. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 39.4 and 74.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Lady Marmalade" by the Christina Aguilera et al. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are house rewiring expenses, $1177, and a new cap for the chimney in which the fireplace sits, $275. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: The day after I announced to my Music 123 class at Stanford that I had gotten engaged (it happened over the phone), my class brought champagne and cookies to class. I didn't ask how 9 underage underclassmen managed to get booze to bring to class -- instead, we drank up. Eventually, I tried to give my prepared lecture, and nothing happened. So we enjoyed the sun. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are any place we looked for a ketchup squeezer that didn't have one. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is, again, Inko's Healthy White Tea, who sent specimens of their new flavors. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: What is the difference between pillbugs and sowbugs? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: interadsinklamaniationousness. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: hamburger dill pickles, real lemonade and limeade, jalapeno stuffed olives (nobody locally carries the Santa Barbara brand any more) DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK my old piece "Terra Firma" sucks a little less than I had remembered. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 3.8. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: upcoming thing at Walnut Hill School added. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is none. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 8. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 12 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: "Martian Counterpoint" ring tones. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Dervla Barth. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: defend Phharrmaceutical. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I had to break the window. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE some overlwrought interadsinklamaniationousness, a toilet, three years' worth of lovingly collected snot with a rubber band around it, a pair of scissors that magically appears in your ears.

A Monday update! Yes, dear readers, I am somewhat trapped in my Maynard existence today, as Brandeis operates on a Tuesday schedule and the electricians are here doing Phase III of the rewiring. The head electrician guy -- the guy with the Doppler shift as mentioned last week -- is out with a bad back, so the namesake of the electric company is subbing for him. Thus, I have to be around to clarify what has been scheduled to happen here. I also asked for dimmers to be restored where there were dimmers before, and that meant a re-rewiring of the paddle fan in the dining room: as it had been set to a regular switch, and a dimmer would damage the fan part of the light. Oh, lawdy. And I had to mention the extra outlets we'd ordered, what switches were still off, etc., and make a request as to the first things to be rewired upstairs. And I did all of that, but I have to make sure we're getting what we want .... I'm pretty sure they won't finish today, alas. So that probably means more D-battery powered lighting and drum major high-stepping over extension cords for a while, dontcha know. Soon, though, I will go out for some staples. And when the temp rises about 70, I'll correct the rest of my Music 5 stuff. Outside. In the Adirondack chairs. With pillbugs and sowbugs.

And meanwhile, the deadline for the composer position at Brandeis has passed. Precisely half the applications received as of Saturday were taken home by committee members to review, and that means that yesterday, in my office, I made it up to half of the current pool. Again, dear readers, numbers and details are confidential, but I suppose I can say that: it's a strong pool, there are several very good composers who were unknown to me that I now know, and fully two thirds of the applicants ignored the specifications of the job listing. Of the applications read so far, I have counted a prime number of candidates I am still considering seriously. For them of you what are playing along at home, the possibilities come from the sieve of Eratosthenes: 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23, 29, 31, and so on. This is not a Fibonacci sequence, but then again, who is? Incidentally, I used the example of the sieve of Eratosthenes as an analog to composing with various scales (you know, filters), to a room full of blank stares. That was, okay, I guess, because "Who wants to rock and roll?" done at full voice produces similar blank stares. I suppose next time I'll need the blue wig.

And so far the longest cover letter is 7 pages single spaced. Dear readers, please note that 7-page cover letters do not leave a sparkling impression. When this search is over, I will have at least one two-hour professional seminar to give to graduate students regarding job applications, and issue #1 will be length of cover letters. Issue #2 will obviously be read the job description.

Currently I have cold finger typing syndrome. It is supposed to warm up to 80 today, but when, oh when? This house keeps in the cold like nobody's bidness. According to Weather Bug itis 66.4 right now, and I wonder -- when did Weather Bug start doing temperatures in tenths of a degree? But am I bitter?

The event of the week was a Rick Moody reading in a bar in Newton Centre, and I was pleased and privileged to be there for it. I actually went in quite early in order to get parking, and was delighted to find that a quarter still gets you an hour in Newton Centre. John A. came along for the free ride, and I watched him eat a sandwich while we shop-talked about Mus 106, and I walked into and out of some of the shops -- or as they would probably prefer to be called, shoppes. The area is a strange conflagration of high end boutiques and blue collar hangouts, and oddly I could find no good bookstore. And the Union Street something where the reading was was definitely my kind of place. "My kind of place" when speaking of a reading or place to eat simply means that you can get Buffalo wings. And get Buffalo wings I did, I did, I did. So Rick came over to my table just as he was being introduced by a guy who'd hit his head, and Rick read from the head wound chapter of The Diviners in response. Afterwards, Rick had to sign stuff, so I gave him Becca Schwartz's Music 5 homework, which I'd been correcting, to autograph. Which he did ("Hi Becca. Rick Moody"),and Becca didn't realize what a weird but valuable treasure she was getting. I mean, come on, how many fundamentals homeworks have ever been signed by Rick Moody? And oh yeah, Rick also asked for my autograph in his bindery copy of the book. How random is that? Later Rick and I talked about the B-flat harmonic minor scale and The Doors and plenty of other random things. And it was good.

Inko's Healthy White Teas sent us a big bag of packing popcorn and bubble wrap, and digging inside diligently, one could find four containers of Inko's new flavors that we'd been sent to taste test. Beff and I each had a third of each bottle and saved a third for Carolyn, and apricot will probably be our new fave, though honeysuckle and lychee certainly gave us a tingle. Pictures below.

Which reminds me that when I told the first year theory students that normally about a quarter of their exercises get "OK" and in 2002 5 out of 838 were marked "good", I was asked what makes something "good" as compared to "ok". I said it was technical correctness together with something aesthetic that's hard to quantify. It makes me tingle. It's nice. And so the next odyssey will be explaining the aesthetic tingle, as compared to the workaday correctness. Metaphors abound, and that's me. Esprit d'escalier: I should have told them that the tingle tells you it's working, but somehow I don't think they would get a shampoo commercial from the late 1980s.

As I type this, the sound of wires being fed through the wall right next to me dominate the landscape. Talk about the tingle.

Beff's weekend residency included a pair of bike rides, seafood dinner (she got the sole & capers, I got the clam roll), a little more cleaning out of the attic, an oil change, a bit of Maynard fest (new drive through CVS!!), another trunk full of discarded computer equipment to take to recycling, and some shopping. Also some viewing of "Weeds", now on Showtime On Demand. And the first of Geoffy's 2005-6 Musica Viva residencies. Yes, Geoff is here now, enjoying the D-cell experience, and, as usual, washing his own dishes. Gotta get him some more of that spring water stuff. And Beff spent a long time editing her trio, which now finally sounds very cool. It can be accessed from her web page.

And everything else is what it appears to be. I moved some more old stuff to my private Brandeis web space, and there it will stay. This week's movie is the cats playing in the computer room, sped up greatly ("Cats tussle", to the left in yellow text). The pictures include Sunny in the attic window, the new cap on the chimney, the new Inkos flavors, and diametrically opposed cats in window and yard.

OCTOBER 11. Breakfast this morning was Morningside Farms vegetarian sausage patties with 2% cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner was chicken sandwiches and salad. Lunch was hot and sour soup. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 47.7 and 80.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Extraordinary Machine" by Fiona Apple. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are none, yet. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In mid 1985 after moving from Princeton to Brookline, I joined a temp agency and was sent to the Boston YWCA. After a week, they hired me without compensating the temp agency. I left shortly thereafter, joined another temp agency and was sent to the Boston YMCA (Droolie was my immediate supervisor), who also hired me straight off without compensating the temp agency. Soon the YWCA asked me to come back. And my weird years with two part-time jobs began. Now it can be revealed: Droolie and I always lunched at Our House East, and I got paid for lunch. I was still a bargain. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Earthlink. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are also none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Does the melody still linger on? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: tortle. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: deli pickles and olives. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK a lot more people want to teach at Brandeis than I had predicted. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 12, if you bend the rules a lot. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: New double-fiver on home page, new performance noted. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is none. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 2. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 16 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: on Tuesdays everybody wears sky blue clothing. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Zeki Clair. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Re: Sayyid Mcintosh Phaarmcy. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: ...after all the folderol... OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a bag of green tortles, the length of your lips, a blank DVD-R, a song without words.

This will be the week where local weather will start to take more of a center stage in this update. For you see, a week of gorgeously overwarm and sunny weather -- coinciding nicely with a Brandeis vacation -- came crashing to a close with a big, big rainstorm over the weekend that promises to continue on and off until Friday of this week. We have probably gotten six inches of rain since Friday, and of couse with the high water table here that caused some water to come into the basement. No fear, though, because we have a very effective sump pump, and a basement floor perfectly designed for the water to flow right into the sump pump's evil grip. So I checked the basement last night to see if any water got in, and there was a lovely stagnant puddle oovering up the whole middle. Turns out the evil grip of the sump pump is somewhat mitigated when electricians have been rewiring, unplug the sump pump, and just leave the plug hanging ("Current! Must have current!" I heard faintly from the third prong of the plug). So I wetted myself -- actually just my slippers -- to atone for the electricians' unforced errors, and was satisfied by the giant sucking sound as the water apparently got jobs in Mexico.

It was quite juicy by Thursday (my only teaching day of the week) and Friday, and I started having regrets about having taken out the air conditioners and transported them into the attic. We had a few fans still downstairs, and we did what we could with the air.

In the meantime, Beff has a four-day weekend and I don't -- though this coming weekend, with Yom Kippur, ends up being a four-day weekend for me. Beff came in at her accustomed time. On Friday I went into Brand-x twice, the first time for a meeting to confirm what we could spend money on for the search, and the second time to go to a concert of Bob Nieske's big band. For the second trip, I was heartened by how many students in my classes made it to the concert. And then I was spleened, kidneyed, and small intestined, in precisely that order. Friday was a day of dire rain predictions, and everyone was talking about when the rain would start. Answer: not until early Saturday morning.

And for the big, big, big rain -- including a few incredible downpours -- we went to Trader Joe's in Acton, and a bookstore that plays classical music, and Colonial Spirits on Route 2A. Colonial Spirits is this gigantic place with so much in stock and all kinds of exotic beers that I have to be sure either to tell or NOT to tell Eric Chafe about it. We got some sort of fisherman's brew we'd never heard of, as well as a wine that comes in a cylinder that seemed okay. And earlier in the week, I had gotten some Sharpe Hill wine that Beff like, and not just because there is a picture of a 19th century child on the label.

The electricians have not come near to finishing the rewiring, and have scheduled November 3 and 4 to finish up. We have bathroom lighting now, and a hall light upstairs, but there is still much to do. And I have become an expert on lighting solutions that involve D batteries. As has Geoffy, who stayed several nights while he was in town for his regular Boston Musica Viva gig. Now Musica Viva hasn't done anything of mine since 1997, which is too bad, because I rule. But this week I have my own Musica Viva premiere, and it turns out it's the name of the festival Curt Macomber et al run during the foliage season in Norwich, Vermont -- right across the Connecticut Riever from Dartmouth. On Thursday I drive up and hear my new trio in the afternoon for the first time. I looked at the PDF yesterday, and there are some nice things in it. Damned if I remember much of it, though. I also will get to see my old student Galen, who seems not to be able to get enough of that area. I come back on Saturday, and that is when Beff will be getting in from Maine. I will probably still be reading applications. And, back to Vermont, I'm told I'll be staying in a house whose owners are out of town this week.

So anyway. Sunday night I had a performance of Toucan Play in DC and was told it killed (literally!), there's this piano trio thing, Adam Marks premieres the funk etude, and E-Machines is a tiny part of a Powerhouse Pianists concert on Saturday night that was highlighted in the New York Times over the weekend. Too bad I can't make it. When more info is available, I'll be sure to neglect to say anything about it here.

On Wednesday when I started up the Earthlink software on this Windows computer, I got a message that updates were available for the software. So I downloaded them. And when the "Fast Lane" software for DSL/Cable was downloading, suddenly the task bar and all the shortcuts disappeared from the desktop, and there was no Start Menu. Meaning the only was I could figure to shut down and try again was to press the power button for five seconds -- always one of my favorites. Upon restart, I got the task bar and shortcuts back, but they again disappeared after about ten seconds. I figured out that I could run some programs by doing the Ctrl-Alt-Del thing and switching processes (not to mention shut down more elegantly), but the lack of lots of stuff weighed down at me. After I called Earthlink to ask if they knew that their installer could do this sort of thing, I got the standard reply: contact the hardware manufacturer. We didn't do it. Damned if I was going to do the on hold thing to explain something as scwewy as "task bar disappeared" to a rep who was going to say reinstall Windows anyway. So I tried restoring my system to an earlier version. Windows very nicely had about 20 earlier dates I could choose -- all of which I tried, all of which failed ("Windows cannot restore your system to September 21. No changes were made"). Talk about Windows as a rinky-dink operating system.

And so I reinstalled Windows to the factory settings, i.e., a clean system reinstall. And had to reinstall Office, Media Creator, etc. And then the installation of Norton System Works 2005 failed due to an "internal error", the task bar started flashing YOU HAVE NO VIRUS PROTECTION, a retry of installing System Works gave the same error and taskbar flashing, and ... I reverted, yet again, to a clean system reinstall. Gfornafratz rinky dink operating system. But this time, things seemed to take. No more "SetConfig cannot run" messages and ... well, I've put off installing System Works for the time being.

Beyond all of that. Beff went to Vermont on Sunday to see her dad and returned yesterday afternoon, calling the stretch between Concord and the NH/MA state line a "parking lot" -- something to do with all the rain they got there, I suppose. And scant moments ago, she off and went Mainewards. I have to go to Brandeis today for a few minor events, and of course tomorrow I become the teaching machine that Fiona Apple wishes she was.

Speaking of which -- Monday was an open house day for Brandeis. As it's a holiday FOR EVERYBODY IN THE COUNTRY EXCEPT BRANDEIS, lots of parents and prospective students come to campus to be talked effusively at, and to observe classes. Observers came in 20 to 30 minutes late into first year theory, without apology, and I made them introduce themselves. Meanwhile, I had to administer the championship of first species, and one with a dramatic and well prepared octave leap won the prize: a cheap ornament of a frog playing the trumpet that I probably got in a Christmas box from my sister some while ago. I also awarded a Yak Bak to the student who identified the song behind "Four Rhythms" which I had posted on the online class archive. So it was Free Stuff day. And meanwhile, Fundamentals got themselves awash in a sea of enharmonically equivalent major, minor, diminished and augmented intervals, I made up an Encyclopedia of Intervals for them, and the twain actually DID meet. A very nice family with a daughter who goes to LaGuardia High School of the Arts observed, and I got to talk about the program with them (I did not bring up faculty morale). And then I saw my independent study, who is writing a climax worthy -- in dimension -- of Beethoven. Which is what I said, but I don't think I used the word "dimension". Oh yeah, and as usual I went to schmooze with parents at an 8 am breakfast -- of course I found nobody interested in music, just theater and political science -- but I wore a black shirt and a tie. The chalk dust that accumulated during the teaching machine part of my day was gentle reminder of why I don't wear black to teach any more.

We haven't seen the sun, except in pictures, since Thursday. But the Yankees will have plenty of time, at home, to look for it. The defeat of the Red Sox was deserved. But the defeat of the Yankees was delicious. And best served cold.

The Tussle movie from last week remains for this week, to which I add a cats Wrassling movie. Pictures include Cammy in a new favorite napping place, an artistic silhouette of Sunny in the attic, both cats trying to fit on a chair, and nascent foliage in our yard.

OCTOBER 18. Breakfast this morning was a Lean Pockets breakfast pastry, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner was Chinese style hot and sour soup and salad. Lunch was leftover rolls with Arthur Marc's hot sauce, and some pickles. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 39.7 and 61.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" (I had been looking for tunes that use augmented triads). LARGE EXPENSES this last week are software $69, more electrician expenses $1044, HP all-in-one (scan, print, fax, copy) $75, ink cartridges $68, insoles, $9. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was about 8, I got watermelon seeds (for who knows what reason)and I planted them in the front yard. After lots of patience and watering, after a couple of months one melon was getting substantial in size. I had anticipated that it would eventually reach some version of storebought size. Then one afternoon, my brother mowed the front lawn, incidentally ripping my watermelon to shreds. I was livid, even though I didn't know what that word meant. And the parents seemed to think it was funny that I was livid, and my brother even moreso (they had better vocabularies than I did). Scarred for life. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Norton/HP as software partners (I am weary of being prompted to configure Norton Antivirus and Firewall every time I start up). COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are the sponsors of Vermont Musica Viva. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How many ways can wrinkles be made funny? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: scabbadab-doo. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF this week include cloudiness, rain, and cars that drive below the speed limit. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Real (tm) Pickles, red beer of various sorts, jalapeno stuffed olives, Buffalo wings. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK nine straight rainy days makes everybody a dull boy. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 9. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: New performance noted. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is the insoles of my new(er) laceless teaching shoes. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 4. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 18 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: everybody wants to rake Davy's yard. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Charita Shifflett. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Re: Hotaka Carolan Medibctions. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: Fast as you can fast as you can fast as you can fast as you fast as you can fast ... as ... you ... can. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE half a fingerprint, a spent C battery, a roll of Tyvek home insulation, an unclassifiable chord.

This week the weather is on everyone's lips -- in more ways than one, as it turnsout -- and them what make certainly had plenty of self-inflicted egg on their face. For those of you playing along at home, there were nine straight rainy days in this part of the world (more even in some places to our north), and many of us could only dream of having our irises burned to a crisp by staring directly into the sun. As I drove through drizzle, showers, rain, showers, drizzle and rain on my way to work on Wednesday, the Them What Make commentator remarked that a strong High in Canada was pushing against a strong storm and it would limit the area to light showers, and "on Friday you will be surprised at how fast things clear out". A true statement if "fast" is treated with extreme irony. Those scabbadab-doos were off by about 36 hours at least. On today's Them What Make cast, the same guy noted "the two storms that combined over us on Friday to make a bigger storm have moved out over eastern Nova Scotia now..." Needless to say, the surprise on Friday was not how fast it cleared, but how much it rained. And rained. And the same for Saturday. And in times like these, I recall yet again (sigh, goes the gentle reader....) hearing the 2000 story on the radio about how the Them What Make service put a new supercomputer online that would make more accurate predictions and long range predictions as well -- which was ended by a forecast of overnight flurries. And we woke up to 10 inches of snow.

But other than the weather -- boy, did it make everybody crabby, or stuffed up, or stuffed with crab, or generally moist -- what is most notable about this last week is its eventfulness. I already laid down the law in this space about how many pieces I was having performed and I could only make it to one of them (meanwhile, I have received several nice comments about E-Machines in NY from people I trust except for not having names of five letters). So after my three-day teaching week, I up and drove to Vermont to hear my new piano trio. But more about that later.

I did my standard teaching, with an extra independent study, on Monday and Wednesday (students in Fundamentals continued to stress over intervals, students in theory wanted to know how to get better than "ok" on their counterpoint exercises (MWA ha ha!), and Syrinx is a nice little piece to use as a model. On Tuesday I had a lunch scheduled with the director of The Bacchae, and was stood up. Standed up? Aufgesteht? After a delay, I got a guilty e-mail and tried to milk it a little. But just a little. And meanwhile, there was much, much counterpoint to correct, probably over 300 exercises. I hate it when the hardass in me comes out. After my teaching on Wednesday, I stopped at BJ's, decided that it was not a good thing that my color inkjet was no longer able to print onto photo paper, and I got a new HP all-in-one (my new exclusive printer supplier), some more Inko's (yes, they go fast), some fire logs, some tomatoes, a lo-o-o-o-ot of toilet paper, and other stuff I forget. I spent Wednesday afternoon and evening going through yet more applications.

So on Thursday morning, after a brief stop at Brand-x to drop off the application box, I up and drove up to Vermont. Norwich. Texas Tea. Y'all come back now. And was early enough that I met my players in a rehearsal and said hi, walked around downtown Norwich (it takes 57 seconds), and drove across the Connecticut River to Hanover, saw theDartmouth campus, parked at a CVS and walked around Hanover (it takes 3 minutes and 57 seconds) --- the best imitation I've ever seen of Williamstown or Annapolis, or a small Princeton. There I ate at Molly's, had Buffalo wings and salad, was obsequioused to, and drove down Route 10 to see where it would take me. Mostly, nowheresville, and then suddenly I was on Interstate 89 going back to Norwich. Cool.

After which I unpacked a bit and found my assigned bedroom. The performance was to be in the Congregational Church on the town green, and the house right next to it was vacant and made available. I got the kids room, with a bassinet and two single beds pressed up against a wall that sloped because of the roof (number of times I hit my head hard on the sloping wall/ceiling: 3. Number of times I hit my head hard: 3). I decided not to sleep in the bassinet. And meantime I cruised Norwich again, this time with more detail. And I got some chips and cherry tomatoes for snacking, and snack I did. By 4:45 I was ready for my 5:00 rehearsal (I always have little trouble with deadlines), and rehearse they did. It was coming together nicely and, as usual, I scratched my head in "what the heck was I thinkin'?" mode regularly. Then we went back to change, and went to a funder's house for dinner with funders. Which was a wild and crazeee event. I even met one of the amateurs from the Composers Conference/Chamber Music Center, who shared stories of doing the Wellesley thing. Then there was the drive back, and the sleep.

On Friday I had plenty of time to kill, so I got breakfast stuff, walked around downtown again (cumulative total: 2 minutes 51 seconds). After that was another rehearsal (it started to kick butt), after which I drove to the area of commerce in southern Lebanon (New Hampshire). There I visited Staples, BJs, Price Chopper, Borders, and who knows what else, and there I discovered a Seven Barrels Brew Pub. Where I had some of the house red, and Buffalo wings. These wings were way better than Molly's, and I felt fortunate to have shared a little of their existence with myself. And then I drove back and napped a little bit. Dinner had been scheduled with Galen and his significant other Christine back in Hanover, and I got there about 45 minutes early to scope out the town again. (Galen was an undergrad at Brandeis, took composition with me, and wrote the only Theory 1 minuet with thrown bows -- so far) During this time, it started to deluge, and we did --- Molly's. Christine got the Buffalo wings, I got the avacado chicken sandwich, and Galen got a CBC. We talked over old and new times, tried to pretend that he didn't look weird wearing a tie, took a few pictures, and off and went to theconcert in yet more bucketsful of rain.

And the concert was well-attended, my piece was quite well-received (damned if I know why), I put war paint on my face (not really -- I was just trying to see if you were still paying attention), there was a nice little reception in the back of the church, and after all of that, Curt and Judy et al made yet another meal, which I had to be polite and eat some of. It was over at 12:30, which was a good bed time, except that earlier would have been more appropriate. Judy is, of course, the great Judy Sherman, and Curt is the great Curt Macomber -- for the record, the other players in my piece were Jeanne Kierman and Norm Fischer, and boy did they have to learn a lot of notes. What thinkin' was I?

The deluge continued for my drive home on Saturday morning, but I was surprised near Lowell by a brief glimpse of solarity peeking through the overcast. When I got home, the sump pump was going off every half hour, it was kind of cold, the cats were glad to see me, and Beff also arrived just a little later, from Maine. Two days worth of mail was waterlogged (luckily most of it was junk), and Sam Nichols's dissertation had arrived and was flat on the front porch, quite waterlogged (it's currently drying with the hope of being readable within the next few days). The newer laceless sneakers in which I have been teaching had been left, by me, in thecomputer room, and while I was gone, the cats fished both of the insoles out ("fished" is a mild word -- the insoles were glued into the shoes) and laid them to rest several feet (pun intended) away. After some cleaning (all of it by Beff), we recreated, while it STILL RAINED. The roof, by the way, kept the attic very dry. And we probably eventually watched something on TV, after I made delicious and wholesome chicken sandwiches. Possibly the most delicious and wholesome in the history of the earth.

Meanwhile, Curt and Norm (see Vermont Musica Viva, above) seemed to salivate over the fact that I actually had a violin and cello duo -- it was written for choreography for Dinosaur Annex, and the dancer took off a hat and blouse in the performance. On purpose. And did some of that writhing stuff (not the way yeast writhes or the sun writheses every morning). And I had only gotten a VHS tape of the performance. A few years ago, Eric Chafe nicely converted it to DVD for me, and I needed a way to get the sound off the DVD. I had done it once, but that file died with the old HP (note: HP is printer supplier, not necessarily computer supplier. Except that it is), so I tried capturing the sound with a shareware program. Which had apparently expired, because I got a minute of white noise per five seconds of actual sound. So I paid the modest shareware fee for it, noticed that the same company had a video grabber, too, paid for that, and started taking little QuickTime movies of things I had only on DVD -- including a bit of "Boy in the Dark". And the Sibling Revelrys. (yesterday I captured a bit of Singin' in the Rain to use in Fundamentals -- but I am both ahead of and behind myself because I exist in more than four dimensions) Around all of that activity, both Beff and I did a LOT of grading and correcting -- and I gave my first "good" on a second species exercise. To which I later added a green star. And in the late morning we took a walk, the long way, into Maynard, where we noticed that the old covered up railroad tracks in back of the new luxury condos have been turned into a walking path, and possibly a future bike path. To celebrate, we took other old tracks on the way back, and the twain met yet again (Beff says I'm in my twain phase, and I wish I had a joke using "choo choo" to put here). While in town, I got new insoles at CVS (I've never done that before) and cut them up to fit when I got home (I've also never done that before). I got blue gel cushioned ones. I've never done that before.

Speaking of weather (which I was way before all these other paragraphs intervened), the fall foliage is very late this year. Most of our trees are still green or just very slightly turned, and by this date last year I was raking, raking, raking, raking ... up to 101.5 barrels. The big wind of yesterday and today has loosened quite a lot of pine needles, but so many of the leaves are on the trees that ... oh well, you make up your own joke here. So raking has to wait, and that means, dear readers, that you should make plans beginning a week from now to help out. And not just by singing "99 barrels of leaves on the trees, 99 barrels of leaves .. and when the wind blows, down one barrel goes, 98 barrels of leaves on the trees ..." because it's my song, and what it is, too. And we have set a new record for latest in the season to turn the heat on for the first time. Normally I try to hold off until October 15, but last year did so in late September. In Maryland, we made that date November 1 (and didn't always make it), and in Maine September 30 (made it easily this year). So far, the heat has yet to be turned on either by me or Beff. Which is probably fine, because the AA battery that moves the time cylinder in the thermostat got used up. It had been there for four years, so it was certainly cost-effective. As a big duh, I replaced it.

Beff and I both got BMI checks to cover international performances and radio play. I was fortunate that an internet broadcast of "Close Enough for Jazz" brought in a whole penny (I'm betting they rounded up). The other stuff kept the amount from being embarrassing. I got some Netherlands play. Beff got play in several places, some of which I forget. And I got no royalties for the Art of the States stuff, and I don't think I am supposed to.

Review this morning in the NY Times of the Powerhouse Pianists concert from last Saturday. As there were ten composers represented, I got the usual sentence. The reviewer astutely figured out that there are repeated notes in E-Machines.

W's approval rating hits yet another all-time low. It's about time the rest of the country got to be as smart as me 'n' Beff.

Since it was an eventful week, there are plenty of new little movies to look at, and I've kept the cat movies of the last two weeks up here. In yellow text on the left, note the two existing cat movies, a sped-up movie of me driving Route 89 in New Hampshire, a sped-up movie of the clouds moving on Sunday morning, the current torrent going over the Ben Smith dam (compare to the trickle exposing the walls of the dam scant weeks ago), the torrent going under Main Street in Maynard, and a little movie of a toy I got in Hanover that will be a prize for the championship of some species yet to be determined. In the ten pictures below, we have the venue for the concert, the inside as seen from the balcony, the trio getting ready to rehearse (left to right: Curt, not Curt, not Curt), Galen and Christine at dinner (note Buffalo wing sauce on fingers), the brew pub, a page from the cello part of my piece, the dam Sunday morning, the new path, a view from a window in the church, and the older train path. Gonzo.

OCTOBER 25. Breakfast this morning was Boca meatless sausages, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner was a Freschetta pizza. Lunch was Buffalo wings and a sour pickle. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 32.2 and 66.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Thinking of You" by Kalmer and Ruby. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are a few things at Amazon, amount not remembered. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My parents kept a cute little notebook of funny things I said when I was very young. From this notebook, we learn that my brother's name for me was "Dready", though in the book it is spelled "Dreddy". We had a crabapple tree on the side of the house, and I used to like to pick and eat them -- the sour thing, dontcha know. According to the book, once I was told not to pick them, picked them anyway, and covered my tracks by saying that I was only picking the leaves. Of course I have no memory of any of this. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Are there any more puns I haven't heard on "leave" and "leaf"? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: snop. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF this week is the word "Nor'easter" on weather maps. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Real (tm) Pickles, red beer of various sorts, jalapeno stuffed olives, Buffalo wings. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the changes to "Over the Rainbow". THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 6, but don't quite me on that. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Just this page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are a few small insects. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 5. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 22 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: certain suspensions of the laws of space and time. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: gepnwgub@. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Hello ! FBvb AgwVpmP. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: Please please please. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.49 a gallon. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a half-diminished seventh chord without resolution, a third species counterpointe exercise, a dripping faucet, a poster for the 1960s run of "You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown".

Might as well talk about the weather some more. On Friday morning on the weather widget's radar for the area, there was a spot of white precipitation (snow to you and me) and some pink (sleet or mixed) that seemed to go right over us before changing to rain. There had been no prediction of same, but there sure was one that morning -- a little behind the eight ball this time. There actually wasn't any such precip, but I see from our temperature extremes that we got close to a temperature where that would be possible. Dreary weather continues this week, and as I type this, a "major Nor'easter" is forming just off the coast (I can't wait to see a Nor'easter that isn't major), and it will combine some forces with Wilma and Alpha. So far what we get is rain, rain, and some occasional big winds.

Which is finally blowing some leaves off of these trees. Two weeks late, the trees lining the driveway are turning salt and pepper green and yellow, and not a pretty shade, either. The driveway is officially leaf-covered, but it is still quite a while before the place is rakable. Too many leaves on the trees makes for repeat work. Though I am prepared to give a running tally of barrels of leaves raked and put away: one. On Saturday morning, before yet another storm emptied out upon us, we brought in the picnic table and chairs and the hammock (the Adirondack chairs are still out there in vain hopes of another Indian summer -- that and the electricians still have to plaster some of the ceiling on the porch where we store them in the winter), and did the yearly ritual of raking down and mowing the hostas that line the front walk. The ritual is always the same: I huff and puff something about my masculinity, Beff gets a rake (this year she counted how many we have: 5), rakes the hostas flat, I mow them down, and Beff rakes up the detritus. This year the detritus filled a barrel, Beff transferred it to the barrel, I brought it to the discard area, after which I tore down a whole mess of vines in preparation for another 70 or 80 barrels making their way there. I marveled that 5 years ago the discard area -- which was not a discard area at the time -- was overgrown with ailanthuses of various sizes, and now it's just a big ... discard area, framed by neighboring yards and a year's worth of big fallen limbs. Or maybe two years worth. Actually, they're not all fallen -- I did a major trim in April of some cedar branches encroaching into the back back yard. Why do I bother when we never actually use the yard except to mow its grass? Dunno.

Our only other actual exercise for the week was a walk downtown, at which I discovered a new yuppie earth-healthy art artifacts store. Here there was available for purchase various classic vinyl albums that had been reshaped into platters, serving dishes, etc.For twenny-six bucks, we got a copy of Stevie Wonder's Talking Book that had been refashioned into an olive serving tray. Boy, now they'll see that I'm really serious about my earth-smart geegaws conversation pieces.

The other exercise of the week, for me, was installing the storm window in the attic (successfully) and all the other storm windows except for two in the master bedroom. I can never do that without getting at least one thumb bleed, and this year was no exception.

Meantime. Theory, composition, and fundamentals chug along. Fundamentals had a quiz yesterday which, despite my not having finished grading them all, I can report they seem mostly to have aced. And I got to play a funny scene from Singin' in the Rain where Lena Lamont lip syncs to Kathy Selden singing the tune, and asks for the key of A-flat. Of course, it's actually in E-flat in the movie. So they had to transpose the sucker to both keys. Soon I will be playing them part of the Wizard of Oz in order to introduce the 32-bar song form, lead sheet, and figured bass. Figured bass for Somewhere Over the Rainbow looks pretty funny, actually. Especially the V7 chord over the pedal tonic in the bridge. In theory, we are about to zoom through third species and finally get to my fave -- uh, fourth. In composition, they are writing solo flute pieces and do not know yet that next Thursday Eric Chasalow is going to read through them in class.

In Fundamentals, I decided to waste some precious teaching time by showing them examples of my exotic (cheap) percussion instrument collection, and Monday was the vibraslap. I played a few Brand New Heavies excerpts and pointed to the vibraslap usage, and one student knew what it was -- she said she had to play it because she was in a group that did a "cake song". Confusion wracked my brain. In 1989, Sean Varah showed up as a composition student in my office at Stanford and said he wanted help writing a "bicycle tune", which was a concept unfamiliar to me then as it still is now. But a cake song? There's AWB's "Cut the Cake" and Happy Birthday, of course, but otherwise it was a genre unfamiliar to me. It took input from Big Mike and Carolyn (double ka-ching) to convince me that "Cake" is the name of a band (iTunes confirms that) and that a "cake song" has a parallel function to, say, a "Madonna song" or a "Fountains of Wayne song". And I voted for them for Best New Artist.

Which reminds me -- the Grammy ballot is in. Yet another strange time-consuming task. And Weather Bug chirped at me, letting me know, as it often does, that an advisory posted long ago is still in effect (a day and a half ago, flood watch and wind advisory were posted, and every once in a while, the NWS likes to remind me that they haven't forgotten about their precious little advisories).

And this weekend Dan Stepner gave the Irving Fine concert, including a performance of my solo violin piece When the Bow Breaks. Some very serious people asked me about the significance of the title (I said there was none), and sensible people ignored me entirely. So on Saturday after our hosta-thon, we both drove to Brandeis for Dan's dress rehearsal, I made a few comments about phrasing, and we drove, new 30-dollar Staples coupon in hand, toward Route 2A. We got a bunch of exotic stuff -- including "five pepper" stuffed olives -- mostly beers we'd never seen before. Beff, meanwhile, started having sneezing fits, and I made sure to get lemons at Trader Joe's for what we call "remedy" -- lemon and honey in hot water. I got other stuff at Trader Joe's, including some Beffstuff for Bangor, and when we got home, it was an afternoon and evening night with a fire in the fireplace with us on the couch. I had a lot of homework to grade, of course, and Beff was reading a book. After which we continued our Veronica Marsathon -- ten episodes aired over the whole weekend. I've decided I like the show, though I get a Twin Peaksish feeling about what they're going to do once the big murder case is solved. Plus, Veronica's dad is played by a guy who was in Just Shoot Me, and Galaxy Quest, and occasionally we repeat his lines in the funny alien voice he used in the latter movie. And Veronica Mars's acting reminds me of Buffy, though Beff claims she has a broader range. I swear. Alas, I read in a story in Entertainment Weekly who the killer is, so now it's just filling in the blanks in between.

There was very low-level home improvement stuff over the weekend, and that involves a wrench and a screwdriver. Both doorbells send a wireless signal that is picked up by a receiver up in the hall upstairs, and they had stopped working. So I had to make a special Ace Hardware trip to get the special batteries -- they are marked "SECURITY" on them -- for the two doorbells, and the receiver itself takes C batteries. We use them so little that the package said "use by January 2004" -- they still work. And meanwhile, on Wednesday morning I got no flow from the showerhead. This has happened on both faucets, where normally I unscrew the filter element and blow through it so the mineral deposits go away. I didn't have time for any real plumbing, so I washed my hair in the sink, went to school, told Beff she'd have to deal with it when she got in, but when I got back from work on Wednesday, I asked about some special solution for soaking out mineral deposits, and was directed to a big container of CLR (calcium, lime, rust). While there, I drooled over the showerhead selection, and also bought one that has a valve for variable flow. Then, the actual plumbing part -- taking off the old shower head and putting on the new one -- took exactly three minutes. Of which two minutes twenty-seven seconds was finding the good wrench. So I'm clean, I'm clean!

Or, in the words of Dorothy Gale, we must be over the rainbow.

And I started reading Sam Nichols's dissertation, which dried out enough for me to do so. So far, not a lot of markings except questions as to what consonance and dissonance means in George Benjamin's music, but it's a dense read. As well it might be.

As I type this Tuesday morning, I have still not graded all of my 36 quizzes and 20 homeworks and who knows how many species counterpoints. And I am supposed to have lunch with Eric Hill today and do a panel for the Brandeis Festival of the Arts. Meanwhile, it's downright ugly out there, and I feel very slightly that I might be getting what Beff had -- right now for some reason the contact lenses are a litte more painful than they usually are, and I am tearing (rhymes with fearing) somewhat.

So THIS weekend is my time to go to Bangor, just because Beff has so much stuff that she can't get to Maynard for the weekend. I have to get back by 11 on Saturday morning, as that is when Maynard Door and Window is coming by to look at the flashing on the mud room roof, the window we want to replace in the computer room, and a strategy for putting a fan in the bathroom. So much stuff. And then on Sunday finally we have our first search committee meeting. I hate it when that happens. Meanwhile, the week after, I do a colloquium at Boston Conservatory, and you don't. And Carolyn (ka-ching) is talking about a leaf-raking party for the first weekend of November. Now we're a-talkin'. Hopefully, on Thursday and Friday of that week the big rewiring will finally be finished.

Among other little tasks was to assemble an html catalog of stuff I've put in my webspace. Not for web publication, just for my own amusement. Plus, I planned the rest of the semester's composition class, and dreamed trampoline dreams. Beff decided to do a cat video piece with instruments and we found the big Christopher Smart cat poem from Jubilate Agno, which we played with somewhat. So I transferred the full-quality versions of all our cat movies to Beff's working hard disk, and took some more movies -- evidence of same in the yellow text on the left.

This week's movies are Cammy playing with Beff's sneakers, the cats coming running in from the back yard, and me feeing the cats. Pictures are Sunday's breakfast, the October version of the big hydrangea, the earth-smart Stevie Wonder Talking Book geegaw, Maynard on a crisp October morning, the last gasp of the 12thC Roofing Company's sign (it has been destroyed) and the cats lookin' out the window in the computer room. Again.

NOVEMBER 1. Breakfast this morning is coffee. Dinner was a Freschetta brick oven pizza. Lunch was Hebrew National 97% fat free hot dogs, and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 30.2 and 68.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "We Need Him Every Day" or something like that, by Take 6. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are none. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: At the district music festival my senior year, I volunteered to emcee the informal talent competition, at which I also did a silly lip sync to PDQ Bach's "Do You Suffer" hay fever commercial. I got to feel the power of introducing various local music teachers by their first names, and I even knew that Verne Colburn's middle name was Arthur. I also accompanied Tom Chevalier in "Saturday in the Park", though I didn't know the changes for the bridge. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Are there any puns on foliage and portfolio? I ask this because last week's quandary actually received an answer. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: crad. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF this week is grading and correcting voluminous homework. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: sour pickles, jalapeno stuffed olives. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK all of the rest of Veronica Mars, first season. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 8. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Just this page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is the wrist pad on the iMac. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 12 -- it's Guggenheim season. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 9 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: magic disappearing leaves. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Forumla P. Victrola. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Software. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I've been a bad, bad girl.WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.29, $2.34 and $2.39. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a passing that's like a samba, an extinct volcano, refrigeration, the head of a pin.

Running total: 16 barrels of leaves raked and deposited into holding areas so far. The driveway was finally so thickly covered with them that I couldn't tell where it was when I got home. The raking started yesterday, at which time I did 15 barrels all myself. And since the weather was so dadburn gorgeous, it was great exercise. And unlike in previous years, I am not sore the next day. Because I was sore afraid. So today I plan on doing some more, in the morning and in the afternoon after I have lunch with Josh Fineberg. We are doing the Quarterdeck, and you're not.

Meanwhile, a leaf raking party has been scheduled for Saturday, featuring the Ka-Ching twins, and dear readers, you are welcome to come along for the ride. We are either doing pizza afterwards or going to the Quarterdeck. I prefer the latter. At this time last year the leaves were almost all off the trees and raked, but alas, the season is still two weeks later than usual. I am not feeling very wordy today, as I'm eager to get out there and see my grass again.

As to them what make: they had predicted mixed precip here for Saturday morning, at which time I was scheduled to be doing a long drive, but they got it wrong, as usual. However, they were right about the snow -- in the mid-afternoon, a little drizzle changed over to snow, which accumulated a little bit -- much more towards the coast than this far inland, as I was to discover the next morning. It wasn't exactly a winter wonderland, and boy did the local media crow over such an early dumping of snow. It was a hot topic, hot enough to sizzle. On Sunday morning I went into Brandeis all day for a meeting (in the words of Eric Chasalow: yes I really did) and in the morning there was maybe an inch or two of snow once I passed the Lincoln line. It all melted quickly, as it got to the mid-60s on Sunday.

Meantime, I did 32-bar song form in Fundamentals, and inversions of triads was puzzlingly puzzling to them. It was a time to realize that really a whole lot of stuff goes into some of the simplest musical concepts. Fourth species is over in theory, and fifth species starts tomorrow. Flute pieces are to be finished in composition, and Eric Chasalow (his second ka-ching) is reading through them in class. Then we do ostinato pieces.

This weekend, though, I drove up to Maine -- right after class on Thursday, and I had to return very early Saturday morning because we'd appointed with Maynard door and window to talk about fixing a roof leak, getting a new window, and installing a venting fan in the bathroom. Before leaving, I interviewed a prospective graduate student. And I arrived in Bangor at 6:30, after a breathtakingly eventless drive -- except for the WOW factor of getting gas for $2.29 a gallon at the Maine Turnpike rest area. We did dinner at the Chocolate Grill in Orono, where I like to go because of the fried pickle appetizer. I believe I did a blackened salmon salad, and Beff didn't. During the day on Friday, I had a pile of counterpoints to grade, while Beff had appointments at U Maine at 12, 2, and 6. So in the morning we went to the Bangor Mall, where Beff had to get some stuff at Borders Books, and I walked around aimlessly for a short time, thought I'd check out the new shopping centers near the mall and ended up in a left turn only lane for getting on the highway. So I came home, graded my counterpoint homework, all the while watching more Veronica Mars episodes. I made it to episode 20 of 22, so I took the last 2 episodes home and watched them Saturday afternoon. I'm finished! I'm free! Also we made sure that the storm windows were installed, and I admired Beff's new garage door (a week earlier, she tried closing it and it pretty much crumbled in her hands).

And then there was an excellent dinner at the New Moon restaurant in Bangor, where they had some rather exotic beers on tap, two of which I had -- including Dogfish Head 90-minute IPA. I think I got the chicken. And then I was up by 5:30 on Saturday morning to drive back (since I had that forecast of mixed precip in the back of my mind). While passing through Portland, I couldn't help noticing that, instead of mixed precipitation, there were clear skies. So whatever ocean storm was supposed to graze us, it was taking its sweet time.

Yesterday was Halloween, and we matched last year's trick or treater quantity: 0. So we more than doubled it. Meanwhile, I dressed up for Halloween to teach because there was a Brandeis open house and I was expecting prospectives and parents, but got only one parent. And some of the students in Theory 1 were dressed to the hilt -- one I didn't even recognize who it was. We crowned a champion of fourth species (Al, got an obnoxious beeping thing). And my costume was a red and black mask, blue wig, bathrobe and slippers. It was moist in there. Oh yes, and I had an extremely fun 8:00 meeting, so it was quite an eventful day -- before I came home and cleared off the driveway of 15 barrels worth of leaves. Thing is -- there are 15 barrels yet to fall, so there will be duplicate work. When that happens, hating it is done by me.

Tomorrow I do a colloquium at Boston Conservatory. Thursday the electricians come back, hopefully to finish by Friday. And Geoffy has been around -- we did the Blue Coyote Grill for dinner on Sunday because the Quarterdeck was closed. So Thursday I have to blow off the faculty meeting to talk to the electricians before they leave for the day, and then come back for an Alvin Lucier colloquium. Yes, things don't rain but they pour. On top of everything else, the Guggenheim letter pile arrived and I hand-wrote them all. I rule.

No new movies this week, so last week's are still there. Pictures include the beginning of the snowing, a picture where I realized that I got striking shots if I breathed (it was cold enough to see your breath), and the hyndrangeas with a little snow on them. Then we have Carolyn and me in our costumes yesterday (Big Mike took the picture), and some nice shots of trees in the yards a half hour before sunset yesterday. This is followed by the new garage door (picture taken on Beff's phone) and just me yesterday (pic by Carolyn).

NOVEMBER 8. Breakfast this morning is coffee and orange juice. Because of a long late-night meeting and an early afternoon appointment, lunch and dinner were conflated: leftover Buffalo wings and leftover hamburger, plus salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 30.4 and 69.3. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Wouldn't it be Nice" by the Beach Boys. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are a few things on amazon, ca. $60 and a BJ's Valu-Pak (fire logs, kitty litter, lemons, limes, fat free cheese), $64. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My senior year in high school I mondo-auditioned for All-New England. Not only did I audition on trombone with the Hindemith Sonata, I also auditioned on euphonium with the F. David trombone concerto. Plus, vocal auditions were in quartets and only two tenors from our school had to staff 11 quartets auditioning. So like entering the lottery with multiple tickets, I was a multiple winner. They gave out blue ribbons for "I" ratings, and between all 7 auditions I did, I scored four ribbons. Which look damn gaudy if you actually wear them (which I did once). COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are Target -- no biggie, just that they didn't have the cans of salmon chicken mix that the cats like. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are Casello Electric. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: If Alito is confirmed, that makes "Judge Alito", both of them five letters. Will I have to put him on my web page. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: shrappicate. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF this week raking and barreling, raking and barreling, raking and barreling. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Buffalo wings and clams. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the grass in the yards, again. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 4.1. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Just this page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is some plastic hangin' off a package of CD-Rs in boxes. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 4. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 4 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: I say it here and it comes out there. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Impairs H. Treated. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Software. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,108. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I can't help it, the road just rose up behind me. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.34. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE Italian caccola, an action figure of Attila the Hun, the snooze button, intransigence.

Running total: 85 barrels of leaves raked and moved so far, with a lot of help from my friends -- none of it from one of the ka-ching twins. Though there was much assistance in other ways -- for instance, helping to flatten the cushion on one of the Adirondack chairs, somewhat, and assisting in the assembly of a pair of bookshelves. I may have gotten ahead of myself, but the number of 85 is pretty impressive. And there are some leaves yet to fall.

Yesterday when teaching my fundamentals class, I noticed that my watch was an hour fast. Though I know I set it correctly with the time change. How it got back I will never know. Luckily, I was able to use strategy to put it where it belonged. And the teaching was fine this week, and it included Eric Chasalow reading through the solo flute pieces by the students in undergraduate composition -- all of them quite sophisticated. I blame myself for that. Yesterday's lecture in fundamentals was on popular song forms, and verse chorus bridge form was all the rage, as I played Beach Boys, Christina Aguilera, Fiona Apple, OutKast, Julie Brown, and others -- including a special screening of Madonna's Ray of Light video. Theory I has finally traversed all of the species and we go back to the book tomorrow. As I type this, I have no memory of what it is I am teaching next. Although I know this week's unit in composition is composing with ostinatos.

Besides the teaching, there is plenty to report. On Tuesday, The Maids came to clean the house just as I was on the phone with a colleague in another time zone, so I finished the call outside. Josh Fineberg came over in a Toyota convertible for lunch, and we did the Quarterdeck and then the Boston Bean House for espresso. I don't recall what we talked about, but I'm sure it was important. And of course during the day, there was much more raking to be done. For those playing along at home, I raked 12 barrels from the side of the garage and in back of the garage that day. Because of teaching and stuff, Wednesday and Thursday were a bust, but Friday resumed our program.

Meanwhile, the electricians were here on Thursday and Friday, ostensibly to finish the job. They were late arriving Thursday, which made me late for my 9:00, and I came back home at 2 to check their progress, after which I had to return to Brandeis for a colloquium by Alvin Lucier (free dinner for Davy and really great hot and sour soup at the Asian Grill). Beff got back at a reasonable time, and on Friday after the electricians arrived, it was a day of raking and errands. Indeed, I spent the better part of the morning -- beginning at 8 am! -- raking up the entire back yard (12 barrels) and Beff came to help on the tail end. This was followed by a mondo errand run to Great Road in Acton, and the electricians' van was gone when we returned. Turns out one of the guys injured himself in the attic while running wires and one guy finished the day by himself. Geoffy was here and doing his usual chores and rehearsals, and he was treated to -- lights! -- when he got back. The basic rewiring got finished, and it was very very very very very very very very very nice to have all the outlets working again, to have the Xerox machine back online, and -- (sound of oxen making oxen sounds) -- a new vent in the ceiling of the bathroom. Yes, that window fan with the long extension cord taped to the tile in the bathroom is gone, the dust is cleared from the screen, and we have a normal bathroom now. Though the guys at Maynard Door and Window still have to pop by to vent it properly. I noted in the attic that there is a 25-foot venting coil awaiting its final destination. And the rest of Friday included Beff finishing with Veronica Mars, and me grading lots and lots of homeworks (by my count about 70 for fundamentals and 10 for theory). Dinner was lovely chicken sandwiches.

Saturday was not just big, it was bigass. It was Big Mike's birthday, though we did not know that in the early portion of our program, and he was scheduled to make an appearance. As was Carolyn. Geoffy was around in the morning keeping us conversationful, and meanwhile I got obsessively to work. With the rewiring finished, that meant the attic no longer had to be box-free. While Beff and Geoff (what a great name for a comedy team that would be) were coffeeing and talking, I started the haul of boxes and other stuff that had been languishing for two months in the garage into the attic. At first I carried them to the top of the stairs and Beff ferried them into the attic. Then we rested. Then phase two was me carrying the boxes to the front porch, resting, and then carrying them the rest of the way. And that means I can park the Corolla in the garage again without butt sticking out. I rule.

Meanwhile, Beff had scores and stuff to produce and mail, and we decided to replace the crapful bookshelf in the upstairs hall with newer ones we'd seen at Staples. So for the latter part of the morning, Beff did a shop with coupons and a trip to Staples to get those bookshelves, I mailed her stuff, and then raked around the northern and eastern periphery of the house. Soon it came time for Carolyn to arrive on the 12:13 from South Acton, so I picked her up, we picked up Buffalo wings for lunchifying in Maynard, and (gasp!) ate them. And then it was on to the real work. We started the day at 46 barrels of leaves raked and carted away, and even at that the driveway was covered again. So we worked on the front yard and driveway and carting those to the woodsy area about 300 feet from the front of the driveway. And then we rested, since that was 21 barrels right there. Then there was the side of the garage, and the far back yard with the apple tree, and I finished with the wide yard to the west (7 barrels). Carolyn briefly tried carting leaves with the wheelbarrow, which only made her appreciate trash barrel technology. Beff raked a barrel's worth of fallen apples into the cedars. And the twain was met. Total number of barrels for the day: 39.

Good thing the weather was gorgeous. When Big Mike missed the appointed hour by two of them, we called him to find that he had had a party the night before and was late getting started. He arrived just in time to share our well-deserved rest in the Adirondack chairs. After all, it was his birthday. And as I said, the weather was oddly gorgeous. Given a choice of raking some more and putting together those bookshelves, we chose the latter. Big Mike and Carolyn did most of the work on the bookshelves, and it was strangely dark outside. Well, strangely is a little strong. The bookshelf-assemblage involved lots of use of Allen wrenches (good night, Gracie), and I pitched in towards the end. I had to take the books off the old bookshelf, Beff and I moved it to the attic, the cats were nowhere to be found, and when the shelves were ready they were placed such as to straddle the newly rewired electric outlet on the baseboard. Then Beff arranged the books on the shelves, remarking unsubtly on the number of Bathroom Readers we own -- okay Beff, we can get rid of some of them.

Then with total darkness achieved, we played Twister in Big Mike's car (it was the only way for us all to fit), which magically transported us to the outskirts of the Quarterdeck restaurant. We delighted at his parallel parking skills ("delighted" is probably not accurate), crossed the street to the restaurant, and were awarded the bigass booth. Archer Ale was the draught of choice, steamers and Buffalo fingers the appetizers, and I got the clam roll, Beff and Big Mike the sole with capers, and Carolyn the grilled salmon. Bad puns were made, especially trying to shoehorn Carolyn's pronunciation of the rap artist 50 Cent into a mispronuciation of "pieces de clavecin", a joke tailor-made for this audience. And then Beff and I walked home while Carolyn and Big Mike decided not to see the production they had planned to see.

So on Sunday we did waffles, and Them What Make had predicted cloudy but very nice. And were off by 15 degrees, and it was spritzy all day. So no outdoorsy for us. We did laundry and other things that married couples do, did lunch, and Beff left for Maine just after noon. So I had to do some more academic stuff, and drove to Brandeis for a grad composers concert (it was pretty good). Double-fiver James Ricci was there to comment on how often he perceives that I peruse his website, and the octatonic scale proved yet again its animal magnetism. In the night I settled down with a dissertation (don't I lead the life) and then realized I had a promotion package to read, and it turned out to be more work than I had planned on. That will take some time in the next several weeks.

And finally, I get to report -- Davy's hernia is back. It's little, and might I add cute, but it's got to be dealt with. Again. I saw my doctor yesterday in order to be referred to a surgeon, whose first available appointment is December 2. I figure in January it will be fixed, again, by the same guy who fixed it in 2000. Which leads me to -- the MacDowell Colony now informs of admission by e-mail, at which time it asks a second time when you are available. I asked for 6 weeks in Feb-March/early April and when I get my dates I will post them here. Because I know you really want to know.

I took a movie of Sunny responding to me saying "Treats!" but it turned out to be boring. So the same movies are up as in the last two weeks. Meanwhile, I got an mp3 of the Marine Band guys doing Two Can Play That Game, and it's quite good. Apparently this performance made the bass clarinetist and marimbist into demi-gods within the organization, and that's gotta be good. And they are not satisfied with it, so they intend to return to it. Hmm, play really hard music or go with the band on tour to a ton of high school auditoriums in Texas -- choices, choices.

What's coming up this week? Not a heck of a lot. Today will be a harrowing day with lots of stuff to grade and prepare. Then the rest of the week should go smoothly. Beff arrives on Saturday instead of Thursday, and it is my hope that we can more or less finish with the raking portion of this year. On Sunday a bunch more leaves fell on the front yard and driveway (the corner was covered again), but Monday's winds blew them far, far away (you'll know when you get there). I like it when that happens.

Today's pictures begin with cats. Cammy tends to lay in the bathroom sink when I get my morning pills, so there he is. Then there's Sunny with those hilarious glowy cat eyes.Next, the new bathroom vent, Carolyn at work filling a barrel with leaves, Carolyn and Big Mike flatteing the cushions on the Adirondack chairs, the ka-ching twins assembling a bookshelf, a single glowy Cammy eye, the bookshelves in context, and Carolyn's salmon.

NOVEMBER 15. Breakfast this morning is coffee and orange juice. Dinner was a microwave meal. There was no lunch. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 22.5 and 63.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS One of those Adam Guettel songs from "Myths and Hymns". LARGE EXPENSES this last week is Papalia Plumbing, $204.98. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: These memories are vague, but they involve the new integrated elementary school in St. Albans and performances in the gymnasium: once I was brought in to play an obbligato recorder part for a piece with the chorus (which I was not in), and once I played a very difficult clave part in the same context. Why did this come back to me now? I also remember that I was sophisticated enough at the time to know to put the ring finger of the right hand on the D-hole to get "F" to come out more in tune. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Earthlink, for making this webpage variously inaccessible last Monday through Thursday, and for not responding to my queries about it. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Why do leaves keep piling around the back steps? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: fardle. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF this week raking and barreling, raking and barreling, raking and barreling, just like last week. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Actually, none. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK there is a Dunkin Donuts on my drive to work -- not that I stopped there. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 5. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Performances, this page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is none. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 2. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 11 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Absence of committee meetings. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Flagpoles H. Municipality. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Software. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,148. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I've been careless with a delicate man. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.09. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a Coke bottle, what the cat dragged in, the mother of invention, next year's SI calendar.

Running total: 104 barrels of leaves raked and moved. The "burning bush" bushes (I don't know if they're called that, but Carolyn called them that, and that's a big ka-ching) still have some a-sheddin' to do, and some more oak leaves will fall, but by and large, we are by and largely finished. This is the first year that no one has suggested to me (or Martler, last year) that the leaves being dumped into the woods should be dumped in a very specific way (I normally wanted to suggest a specific anatomic impossibility in response). And our neighbor with the bigass fence did the big work of raking the leaves off the sidewalk on the non-yard side of his fence, which was the work of a good Samaritan if ever there was one. I have to go to the bathroom.

In order to get to 104, I and Beff (who got in around lunch time on Saturday) spent nearly all of Friday and Saturday a-rakin'. It was more tedious this time, since the carpet of leaves and stuff was less thick, hence fewer barrels per hectare (an area of Berlioz, they tell me). There was a whole lot of fardling going on, and the mini-yard in the back of the garage yielded a big six and a half barrels. Raking that area plus the apple tree yard yielded grass that had to be mowed, so I actually fired up the lawnmower for the first time in a month and a half and went a-cuttin'. Some people have told me they mow their leaves, then rake 'em, but I just don't see that happenin' here.

Lunch when Beff arrived was dumplings from the Asian market, and salad. Dinner was stir fry with a Trader Joe's "hot and sweet" sauce that we decided we didn't like. The rare dud from Trader Joe's. Tossed it we did.

Actually, not all of Friday was spent a-rakin'. It turns out that grading and correcting about 100 fifth species counterpoints is pretty time-consuming, particularly the part about fixing them so that they work. That and 25 complex homeworks for fundamentals. Which reminds me -- I am now officially going to veer away from how fundamentals was taught last year and in the last 2 weeks after Thanksgiving talk about realizations of lead sheets (that's prounounced "leed", not "led" -- which would be dangerous, especially if they were used on your bed. And that's an internal rhyme, so there, smarty pants). 'cause the stony silence that greeted the "how to do a Roman numeral analysis" lecture was, well, stony. But not leaden.

Also important to bring up was that on Friday we had a plumber here. For some time now --- and now that I think of it, ever since the new water supply went on line and we no longer had the watering restrictions -- we've had to remove the schmutz traps occasionally from the faucets to blow out the calcium deposits that accumulate and block the flow. There was even a tedious story in this very space regarding that in relation to our cool new shower head. I had just de-blocked the schmutz trap in the kitchen faucet when the hot water suddenly stopped flowing freely. It was a trickle, and that hardly even looks like a word. So I called a plumber, whose first availability was Friday afternoon. He showed up at about a quarter to one, took the sucker apart and -- uh oh, I got a talkative plumber -- called up to me to see what the culprit was: calcium deposits. He said that he'd done a lot of blockage calls from calcium deposits in Acton and Maynard, and that this one was pretty much the most blocked of all. I don't know how much I love participating in such a superlative, but I may as well mention Carolyn here so that she gets a ka-ching. It took him an hour and fifteen minutes, and every once in a while he called me over to look at something or explain some nerdy plumberly thing. We made the joke that I'd see him again in three years for the same problem. And meanwhile, while we were without running hot water down there, I had to do the dishes in the dishwasher, which we never do. Yes, I bought Cascade liquid, and yes, it seems using the dishwasher wastes a lot of water.

The plumber said he used some of my CLR to unclog the faucets before he rebuilt them and that we should not drink the faucet water for a little while until the system is flushed. So on Saturday I ran the water for a long time and then tried to make lemonade (since God gave me lemons) using the tap water. It tasted a little stony, and I couldn't tell if it was the soap from the dishwasher or the tap water, but I had to pour it all out and redo it using that expensive spring water stuff that used to be for the use of only Geoffy. And now, and then. And it tasted just fine.

Beff stayed until Monday morning, actually a-risin' at 5 to drive Mainewards, and I didn't get out of bed until a quarter to six. Nonetheless, I pulled out of the driveway before she did, and I even used a car to do that.

Oh yes. There was a faculty meeting on Thursday. I wish that would happen less often. It was the "it's an odd numbered year so we must be drastically revising the curriculum" meeting, and I'm already planning on what hat I will wear to the 2007 manifestation of that meeting. I think something with feathers, don't you? The proposed revision of the history sequence was presented by Big Mike, and I included this whole paragraph just so that he could have a ka-ching.

Now I find out that Speculum Musicae is performing my new piano trio at Merkin on December 20. Oh lawdy, what is I goin' to do? That's right around the date all my exams are due (I will have 55 of them to pick up on the 19th), and also the date that the electricians are FINALLY going to be here to finish the job. So the four months with holes in ceiling and walls will finally come to a stop. We've been putting off putting the Adirondack chairs in storage for the winter, since we put them on the side porch for that, making it hard to get to the ceiling where plastering has to happen. I'll figure out something, but it ain't going to be pretty. Because compared to me, nothing is.

So with leaf raking and another time-consuming chapter of life basically over, it's finally time to get to work on serious stuff. but first (sigh), lots of homework to grade. I don't think I'll want to do this overload thing again. Oh, that reminds me. I have undergraduates tugging on my figurative sleeve (I also have some abstract sleeves, but I save them for Valentines Day) to teach them orchestration, and in the past I've done that as independent studies. But those don't take enough time. Plus, one of the points in our external review from 2002 was that students wanted orchestration taught. But that would be a low-enrollment course, not feasible for our new get-warm-butts-in-Slosberg-chairs curriculum. So, sigh, I may be proposing that the course exist, limit enrollment to 5, and teach it as an overload (or overlord, as Carolyn (ka-ching) wouldn't say) next year. And for those of you following along at home, I WILL teach Theory 2 next year, though I'm removing the 3-part species counterpoint unit, which I hated.

Oh yes, and by far the most time-consuming event of the week was reading Sam's dissertation. I liked it, though it took a long time to get through it. Now I'm on a task beloved of many full professors, which is evaluating a promotion file from another university. I can't say whose or where, 'cause it's my little secret (il mio segrettino).

Dionysus calls. So does Euripides. And Beff let me know that Paula Poundstone likes the Three Stooges, particularly the episode in which they are tailors and the immortal line is uttered, "Euripides, we mend-a-dese". Guy humor?

Movies! I got Cammy responding to me saying "Treats" again, and I made another ritual visit to the Ben Smith Dam. I also put up old movies of our local dogs on the way to downtown (my avant-garde treatment of them, that is) and an old movie of Drip and Bly, now long dead (which they weren't when the movie was made). For pictures, I have splashy-splashy at the dam, a line of raked leaves ready to be barreled, Sunny midst the Buffy DVDs, some holly berries, and bookend kitties that I noticed while a-rakin'.

NOVEMBER 22. Breakfast this morning is coffee, orange juice, and Shaws light vegetarian sausages. Dinner was fried pickles and Buffalo wings at the Cambridge Common. Lunch was a garden salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 21.2 and 67.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Fiona Apple's Extraordinary Machine. LARGE EXPENSES this last week is $83 at amazon for fake books and DVDs and $82 at Tower Records for DVDs. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Standards get you everywhere. I heard that once after an undergraduate composer concert at Columbia (in a Barnard building) that someone said, "I can tell my piece was pretty good because even Davy said he liked it". This was said by the same composer who composed what became to be known as "the stinker" 5th species exercise in my counterpoint class. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is the US Postal Service, not only for the poor service at the Stow Post Office, but also slow delivery of packages from amazon. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: What, really, is "music when soft voices die"? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: kimp. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF this week is grading homewok. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Blackberries, which are a little sour this time of year, just the way I like 'em. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK various music blogs, including one by Doctor Danny Felsenfeld. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 8.9. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Performances, this page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK some more wrapping of a package of CD-Rs. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 1. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 40 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Absence of committee meetings. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Inkiest T. Electorate. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Software. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,153. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I certainly haven't been shopping for any new shoes. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.02, $2.09 and $2.27. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a salad shooter, erasable ink, obscure cognates, a head of lettuce before it's been washed.

Running total: still 104 barrels, plus a few little schmutz piles from various areas. The Adirondack chairs are now safely stored in the basement for the winter, by the door, and I took care to rake the accumulated leaves and pine needles that were hiding out underneath and around them. This also means that the cats no longer have their mid-yard hiding place should the sound of a leaf blower or chainsaw intrude. During the rain and heavy wind storm of last Thursday, the tarp over the storage shed in the back yard blew off -- I figured because the very heavy Princeton ropes (they are orange and black) had stretched to the point where they were no longer snug enough to keep the tarp on. So one of our weekend errands was to buy rope to replace that morceau de merde stuff and re-secure the tarp. There was a driving rainstorm with big winds last night and it held, so success seems to be with us at the moment.

Also a quick, but strenuous task for the weekend was the removal of the squat and short rhododendrom in the driveway. I have hated it for all five years we've been here because during snow shoveling season, it's near the end of the driveway task, and just as you're getting really fatigued, you have to expend extra effort to throw shovelfuls of snow over an ornamental bush that doesn't even flower any more. So Beff gave me permission, and we had a rollicking good time, if "rollicking" has no meaning. The bush had trapped plenty of leaves midst the fangs of its lower branches, so Beff also raked and carried this schmutz pile away. And while I don't look forward to shoveling my driveway in the winter, I don't have to worry about my dumb ornamental crap-bush getting in the way.

In fundamental this week there was a Quiz, and in Theory 1 we are plodding through Kostka/Payne at a pace that outraces the slow ones and bores the fast ones. Which is always the case. Yesterday in fundamentals I introduced seventh chords and showed how to notate chromatic alterations of them, and started them on piano realizations of lead sheets. And I introduced the opposable thumb piano texture (most of the class voted to be proud of their opposable thumbs) as evidenced in Daydream Believer and Chicago's I've Been Searching So Long (which sounds like the Days of Our Lives theme the more you listen to it, which I don't). More to follow after Thanksgiving break. Fully a third of my classes were absent, which goes to show you -- just as the Christmas season has encroached backwards all the way to Halloween now, the 4-day Thanksgiving break is now interpreted to be a weeklong break by many students. Well, not "just as", but close. It's about time for that yearly obnoxious e-mail from some administrative functionary warning us not to cancel classes the day before Thanksgiving. I've got to learn how to train my computer to zero in on that one and stick it in the spam box before it even reaches my sensitive little eyes.

And it's time to report that I am ready, really ready, for that spring to be spent on leave. Yeah, baby, December 12 to September 1 or approximately that. I have started to have vivid dreams with music in them -- including a dream where music purportedly by me was blaring from a stereo while another sound was happening, and another one with some other music coming out. That's usually my body telling me to get on with the creative thing and forget the administrative-teaching crap. And when it can, to get me even more hepped up, it calls me "loser". Ah yes, I have a third person relationship with my own body. Doesn't everybody?

I always love doing the Saturday morning errand thing with Beff, as she is usually producing scores and DVDs to send out to various places, and we have particular specific needs at enough various places that we actually have to use STRATEGY to get everything to come out even. Take this Saturday. We needed some firewood, which you can only get at Shaw's right now, and Shaw's is right next to the Stow post office. We also needed some fruits, vegetables, buns, salad, and various other things that can only be spelled using letters of the alphabet. So Beff decided she'd go to the Stow post office while I shopped for the stuff we needed. I picked up a ton of things in Shaws and was waiting for her a LONG time in the cereal aisle ("don't get cereal -- I want to choose it", she said) while little kids at the door of Shaw's were trying to get you to sign a petition about something. Finally, Beff arrived with the usual stories about waiting in line at the Stow post office: "I come here about once every three months, only to remember why I don't come here more than once every three months", etc. I think the tomatoes I had bagged went bad while I was waiting for Beff, so I just left them behind. And then we went to Colonial Wine and Spirits in Acton because we are in charge of the wine and beer for the Thanksgiving dinner in Vermont, and then on to Trader Joe's for more particular things you can't get at Shaws (such as small bags of lettuce, good coffee, stir fry veggies, and especially frozen potato pancakes).

Then Beff wanted to to TJ Maxx. So I checked out Roche Brothers supermarket -- my third of the day -- and got nothing. Beff got what she came to get, and home we went. Finally.

Meanwhile. During the week, our old pal Danny Felsenfeld started up a music blog (felsenmusick.) and on Thursday night did a little piece on me, giving a pointer to the Buttstix on this page. At the same time, another blogger brought up his new relationship with Amy D, and a third blogger, unknown to all of us, commented on the irony and happenstance of all those things happening at the same time (the other blogs are called Night After Night and Deceptively Simple). Thanks to Danny and the other guys, this page got a spike in page views (I include this graph because I just found out that I can get this information):

Thursday was the day Danny posted his entry and Friday was the day of the other posts. And this is the first time that my e-mail address has ever actually appeared on my web page. It'll be gone next week. Danny wields vast power.

Saturday night was Eric Chasalow's 50th birthday concert by Auros, which we attended, but skipped the reception because I had to be up early on Sunday. It was an impressive affair, with a few good performances and a few not so good ones. His piano and tape piece is a real winner -- the beginning of sustaining sonorities not just with unisons, but with third and fifth partials as well.

Other tedious events of the week is just reading half of Dewek's dissertation. My function seemed to be to remove scare quotes, and stir to taste.

Big event of the week was a day trip to Princeton, which is impressive given that nine and a half hours of the day was spent driving. The rest of the time was spent hearing some very young students of Jim's play etudes of mine, listening a bit to first edits of my pieces from Jim and Judy's upcoming CD on Bridge (they rock), taking a nap in the afternoon, and hearing the premiere of etude #63 in a graduate piano recital at Westminster Choir College. Danielle Ingram nailed it. Note the spike in Davy's barometer, first paragraph. Alas, there was a half hour delay on the Garden State Parkinglotway on the return trip behind an accident (if only I hadn't stopped for coffee....). I got home at 1:36 am, and -- incredibly -- answered a bunch of e-mails. Then slept. Then spent Monday being -- how you say in your language? -- wiped.

And Monday was yesterday. After teaching, seeing Max's piece that he's working on now several times, and taking a commuter rail to Porter, I did beer with Gil Rose as we spoke of the future, and on the way home I got some holiday DVDs and -- for nostalgia's sake -- stopped at Cambridge Common for dinner. They have fried pickles now! So I got them, and they were a little weird -- they were fried pickles all right, but they were shaped like bread sticks -- cylinders rounded at both ends. But damn, they were fine to have. And the Buffalo wings did not disappoint. They also did not heavily impress, but they did not disappoint. While having this meal on my own (along with some Boulder Amber Ale), I delighted in watching a bit of a sports talk show on ESPN with closed captioning and the spelling errors that inevitably crop up when typing 150 words a minute. The trip from Porter to Brandeis was as I remembered it -- tedious. And dark.

Tomorrow Beff and I drive to Burlington, Vermont for Thanksgiving with dad and siblings. I have to presume we will be getting a hotel room at a steep discount and arguing over the third pillow. We come back Friday morning and the cats will be pissed. And will have pissed. A lot. Football will be showing on TV, and we will continue not to enthrall with stories of lives spent in the arts.

Not many pictures got taken this week. I did figure out why access was forbidden to the two new cat movies that I posted last week, and have corrected that and left the references up there. I took a new tussle movie, which is also there. Meanwhile, Sunny's tail got puffy when I played some old files of Drip meowing desperately, and there it is. I also got Sunny to watch a movie of Amy D. And the cats sleeping on the bed was way cuter than the pictures would have you believe. At bottom is the desktop picture on the Windows computer with lots of referential Davys. And no ka-chings for the twins this week.

NOVEMBER 29. Breakfast this morning is orange juice and coffee. Dinner was a Healthy Choice macaroni and cheese microwave dinner. Lunch -- rather late -- was a chunky chicken noodle soup. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 14.7 and 46.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Daydream Believer. LARGE EXPENSES this last week is $99 for Fontographer upgrade, undiclosed amount for Christmas gifts, $60 at amazon. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In high school I worked at Warner's Snack Bar in the summer, a drive-in with picnic tables and a sign where you ordered that read "Absolutely no food at the tables not bought here." Don Swin and Margaret and their mother and I had great fun making fun of the bad grammar of that sign, and once the family all went to the snack bar, and Margaret's mother actually got in line and began her order by asking, "can you tell me which of the tables were not bought here?" COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Font Lab. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Who reads the Wall Street Journal for its coverage of culture? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Blxnod (a funny clown). THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF this week is snow (already!). RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: uh, turkey, I guess. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK "Evening in the Palace of Reason", which I read from cover to cover this week -- excluding endnotes, that is. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 1. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK yet more wrapping of a package of CD-Rs. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 0. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 14 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Extreme ease in finding catsitters. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Dorab Hunter. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Make Google your profit maker. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,182. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I say tell me the truth but you don't dare. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.17 in Vermont -- though I passed $1.99 at the Shell station in Waltham. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a block of gorgonzola carved into a miniature replica of the Statue of Liberty, a New York minute, a peacock feather, a Bezier control point.

Running total of leaves raked: still 104. Them what make are back to their old tricks: compare the maximum temperature of this last week (above) to yesterday's forecast high of 55. And of course with last week's cold snap and accumulating "shovelable" snow, the weather is on everyone's mind. But not everyone actually seems to have much of a mind, as yesterday someone (I forget who) asked, rhetorically, when I thought we would get the first snowfall of the season. Why do people ask me so many rhetorical questions?

A little break in the action was just what the doctor ordered, and the Thanksgiving break was just that break. After my usual stellar teaching on Monday to a less than full house, there was Tuesday and errands, Beff drove in from Maine late, and got home near midnight. On Wednesday morning we left for Vermont, after yet more e-mails answered from students asking if Wednesday classes would be held, whose answer was given them far in advance at least half a dozen times. As a sidebar, one might note that the Brandeis student of 2005 asks a lot more questions that have already been answered than the Brandeis student of 1996. Back then the raging question was, "They hired YOU"? And, not less importantly, "you left Columbia for HERE?"

But that one went rather far afield. Them what make assured us of great driving weather for Wednesday, and off we went at about 7 in the morning, after breakfast-y items and coffee, and I was the driver. We hadn't filled the tank before leaving, and we wanted to be free of urban New Hampshire, such as it is, before pulling off the road, and soon after Bow we took an exit that looked promising, drove about five miles on a road lined with trees and not a single domicile, turned around, got back on the highway, and took the next exit. Which brought us into a charming, yet charmless, little village, where we filled up and got some crumb cake stuff and made our way back to the highway. Noting with the opposite of glee that there were some rather large iced-over puddles in the service station. After dealing with the mind-numbingly boring part of the drive (New Hampshire), we delighted at the explosion of scenery at the Vermont state line, followed soon thereafter by an explosion of snow squalls and, briefly, barely passable lanes. Oh, those them what make! A portion of the drive between Randolph and Montpelier was spent going 40, behind a granny-type driver who couldn't be passed because the passing lane was impassable. And eventually, we got back to full throttle, parked at Beff's dad's condo, did our tumbling routines on the mini-trampoline, and drove into downtown Burlington for a previously-arranged rendezvous with Troy Peters, a composer and conductor who is now the head honcho of the Vermont Youth Orchestra.

Alas, the place that Troy chose for this rendezvous had two of my least favorite things in a restaurant: absence of Buffalo wings and a free-for-all setup of places you stand in line to order stuff, depending on whether you want sandwiches, coffee or pastries. Despite all of this bad fortune, we had a lovely lunch, talked of studying composition at Penn, and of Daron Hagen, and spent nearly the rest of the afternoon standing in one of the free-for-all lines waiting to pay. Beff had tea on a stick (picture below) along with her food, and I got some Real Tea by whoever it is that makes Real Tea. And the rest of the day was spent in the condo. On Tuesday it had rained and then then changed to snow, and plenty of ice was evident, and talk was of an intensifying clipper that would dump 2 to 4, no! 3 to 6! inches on Thanksgiving day. Beff's sister arrived in the late afternoon and took charge of the neckwards gear (Martler's terminology), which included the most comprehensive collection of antipasto selections witnessed since the Enlightenment. Meanwhile, I was reading the book which I mention in the first paragraph, and I couldn't put it down because of the glue on my hands. Sorry, such an easy joke.

The antipasto meal was good, the sports on TV was constant, and on Thanksgiving I spent the lion's share of the day grading theory homework while ignoring football. Thanksgiving itself was a relatively pain-free event, and the snowstorm ended up dumping about 2 inches. In the late morning, Beff and her sister and brother and I walked to a convenience store to look for Bell seasoning, but got beer instead, since our quest was for "b" food. After the homework was all graded (total time: five hours, give or take four and a half hours), I went back to the book, then cut the turkey (I was asked to evaluate whether it was ready, and I made something up with great authority in my voice: give it another half hour), and we ate. This was an unusual meal because for once there was no lowfat nothin' -- gravy made directly from the turkey greasin's, real butter, etc. -- and I made sure to have but one helping of everything. And then I went back to my book.

Beff took charge of the drive back on Friday, and this time the mountains were free of snow, and I finished the book. At one of the boringest places in New Hampshire, Beff got pulled over for doing 70 in a 65 zone and both Beff's brother and I wanted to slap some sense into the state trooper, but there was no ticket issued. We made it back in good time and ---- for the first time this year, there was snow shoveling to do. Eeew. Not a lot, but it had to be done.

On Saturday Beff had to leave early to drive to Maine to do a gig in the backup orchestra for Anne Murray at the U Maine Performance Arts Center -- one rehearsal in the afternoon and the gig in the evening. Beff reports that she even got one solo and a spotlight, but she didn't say on what piece. In the meantime, I liked Jim 'n' Judy's recording of my old arrangement of "Musician" for voice, violin and piano enough that I searched through my archives and found the original (from 1990) -- missing the first two pages. So I entered that much into Finale and made entreaties to Judy on e-mail to fax me the first two pages. Which happened on Monday. "Musician" turns out to be Son of To Be Sung on the Water, since it was written to be part of a big set (Six Bogan Poems) built around an arrangement of that song and using the same chords and motives -- I even located an old letter where I revealed the middleground bass line (which traces the E hexachord complementary to the voice's opening hexachord and unfolds it in fifths -- probably due to the presence of a violin), and I nearly broke my arm patting myself on the back.

Once that was done, it was to the Bacchae, where I sat down (on Sunday) and wrote down stuff for the first time since August 22 (David Sanford's birthday). And I wrote feverishly -- a whole bunch of cues that are to become mottos for Dionysus and the lion's share of the underscoring of the first chorus of Dionysian revelers. I did not quote Revel-y, as I am writing for the Lyds with timpani. Since this is incidental music, I learned how to create more length with our old standbys, repeat signs and big type that says "4x" or "8x" -- which the sound guy for the production is going to play with anyway. So with all the x's I estimate I wrote about 6 to 8 minutes of cues and underscoring in an afternoon. I simply have to reconsider becoming a minimalist.

The return to teaching on Monday was -- disappointing. In Fundamentals we realized the lead sheet for Over the Rainbow and in first year theory we harmonized some soprano lines, but really, what's the point? Oh wait, that wasn't me speaking. In any case, the manifold excuses for missing assignments started to pile up. And instead of my usual noon exit, I saw two graduate students for consultation on their dissertation pieces. And I went to the bathroom.

Last night's grading of homework took until 10 at night. Then I discovered that a native OS X version of Fontographer was now available, paid for it online, and attempted to download it, each time with an error message that something had been reset by the client. Eventually I got the message that I had downloaded it too many times (apparently in some worlds, zero is a very large number) and would not be able to do so any more. Sigh. Either the Font Lab people fix it or I have to call Citibank and deny the charge against the card. I hate rank incompetence of this sort because it is both rank and incompetent -- hence the term.

The spike in hits on this site from Danny's blog mention, and stuff, finished and I'm back to several hundred hits a day. As Jim Ricci pointed out, a large number of those hits is likely from search engine bots like Google looking for searchable text, etc. So I'm pleased to say that this site is the preferred choice of bots everywhere.

Meanwhile, Chamber Music Society put up a chatty little blurb on me on their web page for the February 16 Double Exposure show, noting that if you read this web page, attendance will be pretty much obligatory. No, really.

Events this week include a drive to NYC to hear Mindy Wagner's piece with CMSLC, Corolla appointment at the dealer, doctor's appointment with a surgeon, and an appearance in a reading of a brief set piece Thursday night for the first annual BrandAID.

The only new movie this week is of Cammy expressing his displeasure with cuisinal offerings, up in yellow text there (Donotlike). I also put a link to an mp3 of the first edit of "Musician". So there. Today's pictures include: foliage mixed with winter in Burlington; a traffic sign that seems to indicate that an aerodynamic grand piano (or a slippery one) lies ahead;three Wiemanns walking in the snow; Troy Peters in a reflective moment; Beff's tea on a stick; our antipasto dinner from Wednesday night; the cooked Thanksgiving turkey; and Cammy into extreme exploring.

DECEMBER 6. Breakfast this morning is orange juice and coffee. Dinner was Thai hot and sour soup, and salad. Lunch was a South Street club and some Inko's blueberry. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 19.6 and 63.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS that Saint-Saens bacchanalian dance music, whatever it is called. LARGE EXPENSES this last week is $90 for a new bedside reading lamp for Beff, and the cost of Beff's Xmas present revealed: 4 gig iPod nano, $250. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My first year of grad school was also the year that the complete LULU came to the Met. Claudio Spies got some of us students into rehearsals, and I think I went to five; I got to know the piece rather well. Twice after rehearsals, Claudio got "Jimmy" Levine to come and talk to us in the lobby, and we got to make suggestions about staging! Apparently, a staging for the beginning of Act 3 Scene 2 where Lulu picks up a client at a seedy streetlight was deleted due to our input. And Levine exhorted us baby composers to send him our work. One of us (not me) actually did so -- and never received an acknowledgement. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is BJ's -- they are OUT of Inko's! COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are Apple Computer. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: to quote French proverbs or not to quote French proverbs? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: n'arace. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF this week is theory homeworks that fail to raise the third of V in minor. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: gourmet tomatoes, gourmet olives, soy salad dressing, Granny Smith apples, fresh squeezed orange juice. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the singer of "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch" was the voice of Tony the Tiger, and the composer of that song was on the Fame TV series. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 19 (I bend the rules a lot in the last week of classes). REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK Beff's reading lamp on her nightstand. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 11 (all of them for Galen). DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 47 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Cat doodies that dissolve within an hour. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Blaze Mote. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Re: forthcoming Meediacdations. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,197. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: Ah-ah-ah-e-ah-ahhh. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.99 but I see it's gone from $1.93 back up to $2.05 at the station across from city hall. Oh, those gasoline types! OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a picture that I didn't draw, the future of radio, a naughty bit, one of those songs that you always knew you knew (burp).

As I type this on Tuesday morning, a big coastal Nor'easter that the them what makes have been direly predicting for nearly a week is dumping ... nothing ... on us. As recently as yesterday's lunch with the ka-ching twins, it was noted that the possibility still existed for 6 to 9 inches, and that's just pornographic. I officially moved the gas can from the storage shed (for lawn mowing) to the garage (for snow blowering) for the eventuality of what has become nothingness. And THAT will be a title someday.

Running total of leaves raked: still 104. Now any left to rake are snow-covered due to Sunday's storm, and I don't even know if that is the passive voice. It had better not be, because they already charged my credit card.

What a week! What? A week? Wha? Ta? We? Ek! Actually -- fairly eventless week, and I suppose the highlight was Joe Morgan (ka-ching), TA'ing for Fundamentals, being peppered with questions about -- tritone substitutions! Geez, he probably thinks they learn secondary dominants and suspended thirteenth chords this week. (no, but they do learn turnarounds and sus4 chords -- how else am I going to deduct the cost of the "Help!" soundtrack?) In fundamentals, we actually watched Teen Girl Squad on the AV box, just so I could teach the 8va sign (which is on the soundtrack transcription I gave them) and grace notes. I also spent a good amount of time making up the final exam, so that is out of the way. I cling steadfastly to the Kostka/Payne in theory, though I have my own ways of illustrating its bigass points: to wit, using music from the Grinch to illustrate melodic sequence (I was asked to reframe the music as a harmonic sequence, and either I or the music refused to yield). Thursday was spent finding good ways to harmonize full scales up and down in the soprano and bass. And just wait -- 6/4s are this week and that means -- Borderline! And ... Gloria! Davy knows his goofy pop cadential six-fours, all right. Oh yes, and I ornamented the chorales with secondary leading tone seventh chords and augmented sixth chords. Filling their minds with mush, I am. I also did the final exams for first year theory by doing the Frankenstein thing with some old ones (yes, yes, putting screws on the side of their heads...).

In composition it was actually a fun week, as the topic is variations. All by themselves, the class made a list of 12 ways to make a variation. And now (mwa ha ha) they have to use at least four of them. On Saturday their 12-tone and variation projects get read by an excellent pianist, all because I knew where to go to beg for fundageness.

Can you tell I'm REALLY READY for the semester to be over? Careful now, slow but steady wins n'arace.

Among more mundane things, the radiator in the master bedroom is bubbling when it comes on in the morning, leaving a trail of wawa and recently overflowing the little ceramic bowl we got to catch its drippings. Beff thinks the air purifier has something to do with that, and we will see, we will see. The cats, especially Cammy, have wanted to go through closed doors at all time, especially the attic, and while searching for our lighted wooden Xmas tree, I discovered Cammy laid out on a sleeping bag in the attic. I think I've caused them a little less want of going into the attic by bringing the sleeping bag to the guest room couch and arranging it with two casual (not causal) kitty sleeping stations. Evidence of my immediate success is in the pictures below.

Among the time-consuming things of the week included our Friday errands, which we usually do on Saturday, but this time included car service at the dealer and the MA state inspection and an appointment with a surgeon -- likely my wittle bitty opewation will be in very early February -- which was the only suitable hole in my schedule I could find. It also included Beff getting a new bedside lamp, as the cats knocked her existing one over and broke it, and a walk downtown for three-way bulbs and mailing gifts and stuff. During our salmon burger dinner, we watched The March of the Penguins on DVD -- on Saturday it was Horton Hears a Who and the extras that go with the Grinch special while I corrected homework and Beff made packages of gifts for relatives.

Speaking of gifts, we exchanged our regular Christmas gifts on Friday morning because we will be at VCCA, away from gift-givers, on Christmas day. So we ended up getting each other vastly smaller and thinner versions of things we already have and use. Beff got a 4 gigabyte iPod nano, and I got a digital camera (see pictures below). The digital camera seems to lack functional drivers for OS X, so I have to capture the shots on the Windows computer. The iPod nano plays tunes AND shows photae, so Beff loaded a few things up onto it, and is ready to be the coolest person in school this week -- in fact, loading pictures of each and every colleague who will be giving her that designation. Beff's iPod is engraved "I belong to/Beth Wiemann" on the back, and I got a FedEx tracking number with my confirmation e-mail -- just for the heck of it I checked the tracking number to find it had been shipped (for free) from Shenzen, China, and went to Anchorage and then Indianapolis before coming to Boston. This is such a cosmopolitan present, it is, it is. Alas, I started feeling pangs of want for one of the new iPods that plays videos....

Then there was dinner at the Quarterdeck on Saturday night with Seung Ah (ka-ching!) and her husband Peter as a way of doing a key exchange before she takes care of cats while we are gone (big Mike (ka-ching!) is also doing a week, and Justin about 4 days). We all had Archer Ale, and the Seung Ahs marveled at the size of the portions. They had to have theirs wrapped.

And one exclamation from Horton Hears a Who is going to make it (back) into our regular exclamations for a while, and that is: Beezelnut! It is most useful to remember to do it as if in the voice of Tony the Tiger, as it was the same actor. (in high school after an airing of the show, we used "Yopp!", "Boil That Dustspeck" and "A person's a person no matter how small" a lot -- though we didn't appreciate that the voice of Horton was Edward Everett Horton. Who doesn't sound anything like Carolyn Davies (ka-ching!).

Sunday I was to drive to New York to hear Mindy Wagner's Emily Dickinson songs, but the weather got in the way. I stayed home instead, wrote some Bacchae, and shoveled. And spent time on a letter for a promotion in another department. And what it is, too. I also took care of eleven letters for grad school applications, none of them mine.

In fundamentals yesterday, one student finally identified the "four rhythms" I had posted on the online course materials for the course, and I promised a cheap or nearly worthless prize. Having realized that the prize in theory for the same identification was actually pretty cool, I hopped to the Dollar Store to find some cheap but nifty things, and encountered what can only be called optimism for the old way of composing. See the "tonality" link up to the left.

And I scheduled my little operation for Groundhog Day, which brings with it two other appointments: a pre-op checkup and a meeting with an anaesthesiologist, neither of which came with the previous one. I hate it when that happens.

There were no good new movies to be made, so I made a movie of the kitchen faucet dripping (on purpose). Happy viewing! Of the pictures below, the first two were taken with the tiny new camera: the Powell flute factory in Maynard, and the roster for the Sit N Bull Pub. Follow this with Cammy-In-A-Box and the cats fascination with the new placement of the sleeping bag in the guest room. Then there is size comparison of the new iPod nano and teeny camera, the counter after I make fresh squeezed orange juice, and evidence of Beff's footprints and tire tracks after I shoveled Sunday's snow.

DECEMBER 13. Breakfast this morning is orange juice, coffee, and Trader Joes vegetarian sausage patties. Dinner was hot and sour soup and salad. Lunch was ... actually, I didn't get around to having lunch. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 12.6 and 39.9. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the Grinch song from How the Grinch Stole Christmas. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are none that I recall. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: The only time I drank in actual class time was my year at Stanford, in my Tonal Composition class. I had announced in one class that I had gotten engaged (unsurprisingly, to Beff -- less unsurprisingly, over the phone), and in a nonchalant way. In the next class, the students surprised me by bringing cheese, crackers, cake, and champagne. Which, of course, we had to consume. After half an hour I tried to deliver, or salvage, part of my prepared lecture (as back in those days of more hair and such unfulfilled potential, I prepared my lectures), and failed utterly. So we finished the champagne. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Oregon Scientific. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are none at the moment. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: where do I put all the stuff from my office whilst I'm on leave? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: orkle. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF this week is lead sheet realizations. Only because I've seen 105 of them in the last week. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Granny Smith apples. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK there actually is only one way to skin a cat. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 8. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 1. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 9 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Perpetual Bermuda High. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Fiera Mcelwee. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Re: fomentation toiletware. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,225. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: But your heart will not oblige you. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: I didn't buy gas this week, but the station across from City Hall is up to $2.15. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE all of my imaginary friends, a misplaced modifier, a stamp with my picture on it, seventeen ways till Tuesday.

I have taught my last class until late August (big woo hoo there pardner), and still have a mammoth pile of grading to undertake before being scot-free sinks in. Indeed, I spent all of last evening poring through a pile of Fundamentals homework (how many ways are there to unfold the chords of "Christmas Time is Here"? Apparently, one) as well as a few early final exams, and still have today to plow through some stuff for first year theory. I very much did enjoy yesterday's very full plate, as it involved the one day per term when the teachers suck up to the students instead of the other way around. Yes, on Pass Out the Course Evaluations Day, it has become customary to feed the students goodies, and my part of that now ancient ritual was to buy 24 Dunkin Donuts, 100 Munchkins, a gallon and a half of orange juice, and plastic cups. Alas, since both Seung Ah's section and mine had to meet together owing to Seung Ah's Amsterdamian performance, the Theory 1 numbers were vast -- and they left mere skin and bones (such as is possible with doughnutware) for the fundamentals students. In both morning classes I passed out final take-home exams, fielded as many questions as I could, stood on the piano bench to appear taller (excuse me while I kiss the ceiling), and excused each class at least 30 seconds early. One student in fundamentals undertook enormous effort to compose "The Davy Song" using some rules taken from the "cow" handout, and we listened and watched the score on the screen. While meanwhile, I played some minuets past for the Theory students (who are already thinking forward to the spring).

After which I had to do a noon meeting to discuss the theory curriculum with my colleagues who teach it (since it's an odd-numbered year, we have to do these ancient rituals, alas, without doughnutware). Professor Keiler, who wishes to remain anonymous, was unable to make the meeting, but he pre-summarized it pretty well: nothing gets done at these meetings and they are a complete waste of time. But hey, I'd rather do that for an hour than clean sewers. Which is a pretty odd perspective. The rest of the day took me through undergrad composition and a long session with Max (and more importantly, Mingus), and a home arrival at dusk, at which time I had to renew a prescription, make dinner, and go through homework after homework after homework after homework after homework after homework after homework after homework after homework after homework after homework. Practically an orkle of fun.

Meantime, the gentle reader must be aghast (or a-gassed -- we now have helium at home and in the office) that it has taken until the third paragraph to bring up the weather. When last the intrepid reader (or gentle -- can't we be both?) encountered this space, a Northeaster was dumping exactly zero snow on the area, saving it for "the cape and the islands" (the most used phrase on news radio 1030) and the Atlantic Ocean (where's the Gulf Stream when we really need it?), and snow showers were predicted for Friday. Quickly, them what make upgraded the forecast to 3-6, no 6-10, no, 4-7 inches of snow and Weather Bug chirped merrily with every one of them. What actually followed was a truly magnificent storm the likes of which is rarely seen around here. Two storms merged right over us (them what make didn't say which was female and which was male), and for about two and a half hours there were severe whiteout conditions that I haven't seen here before (they were common in St. Albans). The whiteout wound down in 15 minutes to flurries and in another 5 minutes to a pretty orange and blue sunset and clear skies. Beff and I trudged outsidewards to rearrange nature's snow placement as it was winding down, and were quite taken with how it seemed to stop entirely in the time it took us to put on our boots.

I was pleased that the snowblower was able to start -- for the first time in ten months -- as rearranging nature's snow placement while protecting a hernia would have been not much fun. But first I snow raked (Hillary loves to do that) the garage and mud room roof before trundling up and down the driveway. I would like to report how much fun it was, but it actually wasn't. Though I guess it's always fun to add a layer of stuck snow to the porch and the trees that line the driveway. On Saturday morning I did an additional shovel of the flat roof over the sun porch and measured 14 inches of snow. Rare to have that much this early in the season. Last time we had this kind of storm (I was teaching theory 2 at the time) this early, we had ... no ... snow for the rest of the season. Well, actually, we had no storms big enough to require the big machinery. And three weeks after that storm it was 60 on New Years Day and I was taking pictures of prematurely budding plants at the Acton Arboretum. And Beff was trying to get a movie of a train arriving at West Concord. But this seems like a rather big sidebar.

On Sunday there was a lot of feverish time spent writing music for The Bacchae,and my sketch pages are now to about 10. I still have somre more character music to write, but a large part of the substance for future musical cues is just about done. My goal of getting it at least written, if not entered into Finale, by the time we leave for VCCA next Thursday seems possible. But first, more grading, and about 50 final exams to grade next week beginning Monday at noon.

And as usual, Beff and I did errand day, moved this week to Saturday because Friday we spent the day being fascinated by the storm. Well, actually, we walked downtown during the beginning of the storm and did minor errands, gave a bone to the dog at Maynard Door and Window, arranged to have the driveway and walkways done while we were gone, and got our boots snowy. Good thing we got that done before the whiteouts. Saturday we did Shaw's in order to use coupons and ended up doing a giant shop. I also managed to shovel the snow off of the mud room roof (more difficult because it slopes) because the guys at Maynard Door and Window said they'd come by and slather some tar on the join with the house, now that some moisture is getting in (they didn't).

On Wednesday I shopped at BJ's -- where I did find Inko's and got three 12-packs -- and got two helium canisters for the fun of it. I gave one to Carolyn The Ka-Ching for use in the office (it works) and one for at home (it works, but Beff needed several tries to do it without coughing). It's now back to workaday use for the helium, whatever that might mean. And at home, it's to the cellar for it. Lots of people wanted to let us know that helium can cause brain damage. So to counter that I made sure not to start smoking this week and not to have a conversation with a Republican. The latter doesn't actually cause brain damage, but it sure makes my brain hurt.

Ken and Hillary came over on Sunday for Buffalo wings (Neighborhood Pizzeria downtown), and we had great fun, especially after returning home and trying some Tuaca (our Amaro-substitute), and me getting to show funny stuff that's come onto the computer since the last time they were here in August. And we even played some of a Pink album. Whatever happened to Pink? Let's get this party started!

Meanwhile, I am kind of supposed to drive into and out of NYC for a quickie Speculum Musicae performance next Monday, and I don't know if I can do it -- the timing sort of sucks. The exams get collected at noon, the concert is at 8 (Merkin Hall), and the electricians arrive for their last hurrah at 7:30 on Tuesday morning -- like Cartman saying to Jesus on the South Park pilot: "your birthday is on Christmas? That sucks, dude." 20 years ago the biggest thing I wanted to happen to me professionally was to be performed by Speculum Musicae. This week the same thing unfortunately turns almost into a nuisance. But hey -- if you're in New York on the 19th and wonder what a piano trio movement called "Felinious Assault" sounds like, Merkin Hall is the place for you. And crap -- Aleck Karis (hey! both names have five letters!), Curt Macomber and Chris Finckel -- talk about the Mount Rushmore of piano trios (is that mixing metaphors or something?).

So there are very few plans for the week beyond Bacchaeness and grading. Lunch with Elaine Wong today, Carolyn the Ka-Ching does a Messiah Sing this afternoon that I can't make, and Big Mike the Ka-Ching comes for dinner on Friday to prepare him for cat doody duty while we are gone. Then Monday la merda batta il ventaglio. At some point in the next ten days, the hyper-extended phrase "I'm freeeeeeeeeee!" will escape my body. Until then, it won't.

I have a cute little movie of Sunny on the mud room roof just outside the computer room (see yellow text), parts of which are sped up. Of course, this week's pictures are overwhelmingly weathecentric. The whiteout as viewed from the front door followed by two shots of snowblower detritus: on the trees in the driveway and on the side porch. Then the sunset that followed the storm by about 10 minutes. Next, some snow slowly peeling off a telephone pole on Saturday, and the sign across from our house that unexplainably has clamp pliers clamped to it. Then Beff in line at Shaws, and Cammy discovering the dripping from the end of the radiator in the master bedroom.

DECEMBER 21. Breakfast this morning was orange juice and coffee. Dinner was champagne and some brown crackers with high-cholesterol spread. Lunch was salad and an excellent Tom Yum soup made from a jar. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK -1.3 and 43.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS American Woman. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include an Apple keyboard at Comp USA, $31.49 including tax, a large paper cutter, ca. $180, and a $300 down payment for yet more work on the house (storm window for the computer room, vent for the bathroom fan, sealing for the mud room roof). POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I took four graduate seminars with Milton Babbitt, the kind you love -- no papers to write. The seminar was essentially the same class with four different names: Orchestration, Advanced 12-Tone technique, History of Theory Since 1850, and Analysis. They were fascinating, and so rich with detail that I forgot everything within an hour of the class. One Bach chorale analysis was absolutely virtuosic. And I forgot that, too. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Staples. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is Staples. This is not a contradiction. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: where do the ashes that Beff sweeps into the little hole in the fireplace go? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: slodge. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF this week is urgent and pleading requests to extend deadlines that have been well known since September. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Boca burgers and Real(tm) Pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK my music is not pretty. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 4. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, bio page, Reviews 3. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 11. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 21 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Oval office residents who have actually read the constitution. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Fiera Mcelwee. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Re: fomentation toiletware. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,227. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: Oh, you silly stupid pastime of mine. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.17 at the Exxon on Route 27 near the Ace Hardware. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a magnifying glass, copy of the Constitution of the United States, all the different ways to spell "scrumpdillyicious", a downward trend.

Finished! I actually said that twice in the last eight days. The second time was about an hour before I posted this, meaning I finished my grading (1 pm Monday to 11 am Wednesday), posted the grades online, and filled out the required forms. I would have taken a picture of the pile of exams (51 of them) plus last-minute completed homework (some of it faxed), but that would have just been silly. And now to ... this update.

Last week's absence of having to teach was filled up by much homework to grade, but when that was finished I applied myself to the writing of the music for the Bacchae, and late on Saturday I got say "finished!" It turns out I was wrong. There is a LOT of music -- 33 pages of oblong two-system score paper -- and I didn't want the Lyds to have to learn a lot more, given what they are being paid. But later I decided that the scene where Pentheus's mother has Pentheus's head on a stick and thinks it's a goat's head needed some underscoring. So I will do that later. Meanwhile, there turned out to be (so far) 32 cues, some of them quite long, some of them quite short. Coryphaeus -- someone who emerges from the chorus to ask a few questions -- has bitonal major triads. I used all the tricks, you see. So on Sunday I started entering the music into Finale, and got the first 16 in. Then work interrupted, and I can go back to entering the music as soon as I finish typing this putrid thing. And I will, Oscar, I will.

So Monday morning I got to Brandeis at my accustomed 6:50 in order to enjoy the building while it was quiet, do some work, get the last stuff out of my office before I go on leave, etc. I had loaned my building and master keys to Derek Jacoby for his weekend recording session and was going to get them back that morning. But of course the building was locked and Derek had my key and I didn't know what number I should call to be let into the building. So I called the Brandeis number, which announced that its offices were closed, but I could reach campus police by dialing 9. Which I did, and the police guy barked "this is the emergency number. Call 6-5000 next time". And when I was freezing my fingers off while no one came, I did call that number. Same guy. Barked. "Didn't you call me already. It takes time for people to get there". The "conversation" was cut off before I could reel off my hundred or so replies that dripped with sarcasm. So good you won't want to miss a drop! So I did get let in and later I walked up to Brown to examine an AV cabinet that was proposed for 212 Slosberg. I took a picture of it with my cell phone and e-mailed it to Mark, who now is showing it to our own faculty. And when I got back, the exams piled up, though of course you can't trust students actually to read, on the exam itself, "Due at noon SHARP on Monday. Late exams will not be accepted." Of course, plenty were still not there when I left at 12:45. Aargh! On the way home I stopped at CompUSA to get an Apple keyboard simply to have the CLEAR key to use with the Power Book when entering notes in Finale during this colony hop. Really I did.

As I type this I see roofers at work on the house two houses to the west, and I kind of wonder what the point of doing roof work at this time of year is. Unless they are getting leaks, I guess. That explains the agitation of the cats yesterday afternoon from the sound of the snow being shoveled off of the roof. At the time I wondered what the point of shoveling snow off of a sloped roof was, but I need wonder no longer. You will never get back the 30 seconds it took to read this paragraph.

Not much of Friday was spent doing Bacchae music, as Beff and I were doing the usual important stuff and there was another significant storm -- this one freezing rain changing to all rain. Mainly, we spent time getting ready to be in Virginia until MLK Day. We have THREE house/catsitters lined up for our absence (Seung Ah, Big Mike (ka-ching!), Justin), and now there is plenty of the stuff they will eat -- they only like the Friskies shredded salmon and chicken cans, and they shun almost every other canned food -- and plenty of cat litter, etc. Shopping was a real joy, though I didn't realize that no one has plums this time of year. So I have peaches, and I actually like them. Don't you hate it when that happens?

I also had lunch with Elaine Wong on Friday at a place in Waban (not the Wed, Wed, Wed one) and we got such a variety of nouvelle entrees that we could have eaten to the point of explosion. Elaine took her leftovers home. I didn't. For those not in the know, Elaine is a Dean of Undergraduate something, but not an important enough Dean to have her own parking space. At one point she asked me how I became such a great teacher (a designation that made my brain go "ping"!) and I think my first response was, "I fold it in half". I'm not sure if she got, or needed to get, the reference.

The reason my dinner last night was champagne was that I got an e-mail from the Provost's secretary on Monday asking if I could meet the Provost to "talk about teaching" some late afternoon before classes started back up. I shared this premise with Beff, who speculated that I was getting a teaching award -- at which point I thought back to lunch with Elaine -- and I said, "oh crap, I would have to turn it down." "Why?" "Oh, I just don't think teaching is something that should be competitive. It's just what I do." "Well, you get awards for composition and you accept them. Isn't that also something you do?" Zing. So instead I told myself I was going to be invited to be on a University committee on teaching that meets eight hours every week and then goes to classes to observe and polls students on their reactions to teachers and writes long reports that take forever to get to the point. I was desperately hoping to be wrong.

So I went in to work yesterday for the Tuesday 4:30 appointment I had made, parked in the small Slosberg lot, said hi to Carolyn (ka-ching!), talked a bit to Max ("Why you here?" "Meeting" "Who?" "Provost." "Money?" "Dunno."), saw some of my colleagues looking at the AV cabinet picture on Mark's computer, and arranged the particles of dust on one of my bookcases. Then I walked to the Provost's office and was surprised to see several of my colleagues, who were recently looking at pictures of an AV cabinet, in the office. Yehudi arrived and I knew the jig was up. The door to the office opened, and there were the Provost and Dean, Elaine Wong, a bunch of my scores and CDs, a Brandeis envelope with my name on it, a bottle of champagne, and some expensive snacks. And what happened next felt like I was playing out a scene from "A Beautiful Mind."

A bunch of super-smiley faces surrounded me as I did the ritual of opening the envelope to read what was inside (I knew by now what it was going to say), and a little later I got some esprit d'escalier -- when the Dean asked, "so what do you think?" I should have said, "give me time. I'm still on the first word." But instead, I think I said, "Cool." Nobody gave me any pens like in that scene from A Beautiful Mind, but I did get a named Chair. As of about 4:33 yesterday afternoon I am the Walter W. Naumburg Professor of Composition, and Yehudi is the Walter W. Naumburg Professor of Composition Emeritus. What do I get out of it? Free stationery and the obligation to use that title when dealing with the media (apparently, including CD-Rs). And all the champagne I could drink in 30 minutes. The reader who has followed this space for the last fifteen or so months can savor the irony in the whole situation. So I drove home (yes, I stayed in my own lane), scanned the letter (which calls me "Davie" and says it's in recognition of my "scholarly accomplishments", among other things -- yes, it's a form letter, but at least it's not a foam letter) and e-mailed it to Beff. And now I guess I have to start wearing lifts. (Beware of Greeks wearing lifts!)

Meanwhile, other little dramas played out this week, not the least including the quest for a paper cutter I can use to trim 11x17 sheets down to 11x14 sheets. I did that with the parts to Dream Symphony, and there were a lot, and the cutter I have is only 12 inches wide. So the process of measuring 14-inch cuts was quite cumbersome, and it involved an external ruler. So Beff made it high priority to find me a good bigger one, and her father -- a retired architect who eats this kind of hardware for breakfast (and yet still has his own teeth) -- arranged to have one sent. It arrived and was ... 12 inches ... wide. And you can't fold it in half. So I drove to Staples to see what they could offer because the online catalog was pretty vague for paper cutters, and I looked in the Staples catalog, and there was one -- right there -- with the correct dimensions, which I ordered online on Friday. And it arrived on Monday and it is ... perfect!

I had also ordered mailing bags from Staples on the 6th, and the online webpage predicted a December 15 delivery. On the 20th it predicted a December 15th delivery (at last check, it still does) with the notation "Shipped from Warehouse. Click here for tracking information". Which says DEC 7: BILLING INFO RECEIVED. Three calls to Staples were required to confirm that -- it never shipped. Though my credit card was charged on the 16th (Beethoven's birthday). Staples offered to resubmit the order for delivery around December 30 (when we will be in Virginia), and I asked if traditionally the point of ordering stuff online was that you order it, pay for it and it gets delivered. So I politely asked not to reorder. And at last check, the Staples guy's statement that "your credit card has been refunded" turns out to be false. So there you go: the Janus that is Staples.

My piano trio was done on a Speculum Musicae concert on Monday and of course I couldn't go -- especially given the transit strike -- and it is reviewed in today's New York Times. Dudes and dudettes, the news is -- I ain't pretty. Especially the moment I wake up/Before I put on my makeup.

So on Friday we drive to Burke, Virginia to stay with the Lieutenant Colonel Colburn family overnight, after which we do the 3-hour drive to the VCCA on those lovely rolling Virginia Hills. The part I do NOT look forward to is that short stretch of malls, etc. in Charlottesville you have to drive through, and on the Saturday before Christmas. Beff will hear a lot of "I hate this..." and be saying a lot of "Now, now." And by lunchtime I will return to my other life, that of -- composer. Which is cool, 'cause I still get to be the Walter W. Naumburg Chair of Composition. Chair and Chair alike. Indeedy.

Beff, of course, wants me to mention that we did our usual Friday morning walk downtown, and that was during a heavy rain falling on top of what had been freezing rain, so just using the sidewalk was a major adventure, especially given that the first 500 feet of the walk is downhill. On our return, we vowed to do the alternate route via what we call the "Harley Bridge", but an enormous puddle blocked us from doing that. Unsurprisingly, when we got back, we were soaked.

And -- excitement of excitements -- the house is finally completely rewired. Electricians were here 7:30 to 11:00 yesterday bringing more circuits up to code and plastering ugly holes that we've been looking at for months. Alas, they did not completely plaster where they should have under the lights in the sun porch, but I guess that's okay. And there's a quad outlet next to the sink instead of a bi with a threefer extension (this may be the first time in history that sentence was uttered in the English language).

There are two new movies up there for your enjoyment -- yet another example of how the cats react when I say "Treats," and a nice one of Cammy in the bathroom sink craving affection. I was Bacchae-busy this week, so not many photos were taken. By me. Just the way we discovered Sunny in the sleeping bag in the guest room on Friday morning, and an old picture of the Ka-Ching twins on the day of the Big Rake. Big Mike is actually reading a medieval manuscript, while Carolyn makes fun of his shirt.

Next update: January 17, 2006, including the pictures of the year review. And a big YO to my homeys in Chicago, as I will be there January 18 to 21.

2006

JANUARY 14. Breakfast this morning was Trader Joe's potato pancakes, rice sausages, tangerine juice, and coffee. Lunch was tom yum soup, sushi spring rolls, and Turkey Hill green tea. Dinner last night was Shaws sushi and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST THREE AND A HALF WEEKS 14.5 and 58.5 (where we were, it was probably about 25 and 66). MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Snowbird, by Anne Murray (thanks to Beff remarking about having the check stub from that gig). LARGE EXPENSES this last three and a half weeks include a portable DVD player, $169 after rebate, various pizza-making hardware which we brought back with us, $40 or so, and a 250 gig hard drive from J&R for Beff, $159. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: the first time I went to the VCCA was during my Guggenheim year, 1990-91, and I flew there. Having no car was a bummer, as it's at least a 2-mile walk to anything. The Griffin ensemble was doing my violin concerto (its only performance) that fall (conducted by Lucky Mosko), and I spent the first week and a half of my residency copying parts for the new movements. Then I wrote the "allegro" of the first movement of my symphony. A little ways into the residency, four writers from Russia arrived as part of some bizarre exchange, and one of them attached himself to me. The translator occasionally refused to translate for us, but we did communicate in all the German we knew. Example: "ah, wasser ist gut". One night he tried to roust me from bed for a vodkafest, and instead I ran to my studio and stayed up all night writing the transition that followed the climax. Meanwhile, I lost at poker several times, as I had not learned never to bluff with those people. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Barnes and Noble, but only because the one in Lynchburg doesn't sell Fanfare Magazine. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is Kroger, for having some nice gourmet stuff that bucked the trend of southern blandness. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: when a place has a "vibe", does that mean it doesn't go lower than F? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: krishoola. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF this last three and a half weeks is driving, and the many different ways of serving black-eyed peas. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: hamburger dill pickles, Mezzetta antipastos, and ice water with key lime (no sweetening) added. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the Route 29 bypass -- which now bypasses the VCCA entirely. The driving directions given by the VCCA do not reflect the new reality. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 5. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Reviews 3, list of compositions, main page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are -- unknown. Possibly a bowl. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS THREE WEEKS: 18. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 19 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: a four-month academic year. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Bird Glenna. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Re: PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,303. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I don't understand about complementary colors. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.15 in Maynard, $2.19 on Jersey Turnpike, $2.17 in Amherst, Virginia, $2.29 in Amherst 3 weeks later, and $2.39 in eastern Pennsylvania. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the back of my head, two ways of looking at a blackbird, the length of your lips, a bucket of tar..

As this writer (call me third person guy -- or, whoops, um, first person guy) is now on leave, don't expect regularity in days of the week for these updates. I type now because we got back from our three weeks in Virginia yesterday and the unpacking and computer-sync'ing is just about finished, as well as the shopping for staples, etc. We had planned to drive back tomorrow, but that would have left precious little time before Beff had to drive yet further, to Maine, so we settled on a day earlier -- but the forecast of buckets of rain caused to shove yet a day earlier. So now let me skip around (or as third person guy would say, let him skip around) in the events of the last three weeks.

First, Beff got back from Maine in the middle of the day on the Thursday before Christmas (a holiday we acknowledge and celebrate despite being liberals -- take THAT, O'Reilly), we packed, and made double sure that everything that was needed to be brought was brought -- indeed, this turned out to be the first such trip where we did not leave behind something very important (such as, during my last Virginia visit, the power cord to my iMac). We set up Seung Ah, Big Mike, and Justin in the saddle for the catsitting, and shoved off around 6:45 on Friday. An eventless drive down the Merritt, NJ turnpike, Delaware and Maryland turnpikes, etc. -- including a stop at one of the two giant rest areas in Maryland -- got us to Chez Colburn by about a quarter after two, where we decompressed naturally (no steroids), and stayed inside for quite some time. We got served some nice taco-style chili (as in, add what you want, and that included cayenne pepper, which I had never seen before) and, of course, overate -- hey, we were at a Lieutenant Colonel's house. In the evening, we watched a film about music of gypsies, done in a Hollywoodish fashion with faint narratives and very high production values -- it was fascinating as the music moved from east to west to hear how the music became more triadic and functionally tonal. The underlying narrative, meanwhile, either made no sense, or were left out entirely. I mean, bricking over a doorway to signify the nomadic existence? How film school.

So anyway, we shoved off at 7 on Christmas eve day and got to the VCCA by 10, where it was brightly sunny and somewhat cold. Nonetheless, little ground snow was in evidence (we left Maynard with a foot -- of snow, that is. Or as third person guy would say, THEY left Maynard). We filled the tank, bought a car wash, and were denied both the car wash AND the refund. The car wash finally happened several days later. We stopped at the Food Lion supermarket to get some snacky things four our studios, and then made for the VCCA. The traffice pattern was a little different, but not troubling, until I noticed that the entrance to the VCCA was neither within a mile and a half of Amherst or -- 13 miles of it. In a mild panic, I asked Beff to read the driving directions, and we followed them. So as an experiment, we turned around at the exit for Natural Bridge, drove back to Amherst, and set off onto BUSINESS 29 instead -- where the VCCA entrance now is. Turns out the bypass is now open, the old Route 29 is now Business 29, and the VCCA didn't bother to tell anyone driving there about that. So we arrived, there was plenty of slippery ice around that resulted from an earlier ice storm -- as well as some piled up branches -- and we set up our stuff in our respective studios (Beff: C2, moi: C3) and unpacked in our little room. VCCA has two rooms for couples, and we found out later that there were THREE couples there. So we got the couples room with two single beds -- last time we were there together we got the king size bed.

My working habits included filling an extremely large plastic Coke-themed glass with ice and water and squirting key lime juice into it and drinking it as I worked, as well as various places of rest for pickles, pepperoncini, and olives. Naturally, I was a regular at the rest room. Lunch and dinner was served in the main residence, and lunch was done buffet-style in the barn complex where the studios are. In both our cases, since it had been so long since we had had real time for work, we dutifully traipsed studiowards after dinner and did even more work. And I didn't watch TV once, except to glance at a little of the Redskins playoff game.

And we worked on Christmas day -- we did presents and stuff before we left. At that time, I finally finished all the music for the Bacchae, emailed it off, and sent a printed copy to the quartet. The very last cue -- a sort of dirge -- is the one that sounds the most like me. Unless you hear it played by the computer. It was easy to send the cues by e-mail, as there were two wireless hot spots on the compound. Both were powered by satellite, and failed in rainy weather. And for some odd reason, there were plenty of signs all over the place imploring us colonists not to download music files -- as if web pages nowadays weren't as big as music files. Slowly we settled in and got to know the writers, composers and visual artists there, and dealt with the very quick turnover that happens there. As is usual for such places, the inhabitants were at various points in their careers, and some were intensely focused on their work while others were not. The median age of artists went way down after the new year and then back up a little, whereas the median age of composers increased very slightly (since we aged three weeks there). My old friend Dan Sonenberg was there when we got there, and Tom Cipullo came a little later, and both were essential to the larger existence. Whatever that would mean. Tom is working on an opera (isn't he always?) and Dan on a flute and harp piece (isn't he never?).

Meanwhile, Beff got plenty done in the residence: a whole piece for flute, clarinet and video (featuring our cats), a 2-marimba piece, 2 songs, and some orchestration on HER opera. As to me, after finishing up the Bacchae, I retrieved all my hand drum stuff -- pictures, digital camera movies, and some pictures from the internet, studied them as closely as I could (not very), and dashed off three movements: the first is for frame drum, the second for talking drum and tabla, and the third for canning jar and bongos. Since Beff and I continued our tradition of afternoon walks at VCCA, we used that time for titles, and as usual, Beff had the funnier ones. The hand drum piece was finished on New Years Day and I called it "Snaggle". The first movement is called "Framer's Intent", and Beff titled the other two: Mr. Trampoline Man and Preserved. I e-mailed scores to Michael Lipsey -- who commissioned them -- and hit the ground running.

The next piece was for Barbara Haney, about to retire as the Marine Band's bass clarinetist, for solo bass clarinet. The idea was (yawn) different characters for the music on different sides of the break (having a clarinetist as a wife certainly ingrains the break into you), and also to ape some of the TEN OF A KIND licks Barb had to wail on in a most exposed way. That one turned out to be six minutes, and I called it LIVING LARGE. Really. After those pieces were done, I started thinking about etudes that Don Berman asked for, but those didn't come right away. So I finished my time in residence with two etudes specifically written to finish Book VII (which I can now send to the publisher, etc.): #69 is a slow and pretty, understated cluster etude (I try to go against type sometimes) and #70 turned out to be one of the hardest etudes of all 70: in name, on sharp dynamic contrasts. In feel, really fast be-bop with a bit of attention deficit disorder (hence the crazy extreme dynamics that change very fast). Beff named both of them: Palm de Terre (as most of the clusters are supposed to be played by the palms) and Stutter Stab (stabbed chords, etc.).

There were plenty of social things to do at the VCCA, including a pizza party on New Year's Eve. For this, we had to use the kitchen in the barn complex, and I had to buy pizza pans, knives, a rolling pin, a cup measure, and all the ingredients. It took quite a while to put it all together (I made a quadruple recipe, and there was enough left over to serve as lunch the next day). The serving of the pizza was followed by a dance party that really fizzled once some inferior music was chosen (you would think that one person dancing instead of eight would be a sign to put on different music). Friday night was poker night (nickel ante, maximum bet a quarter), and usually I didn't do poker there (because I lost so much the first time), but I joined in. The first Friday night I won 15 cents, and the second one I won two big pots, putting me ahead by $4.30 for the evening. Indeed, in one hand on the "midnight baseball" variation, I ended up with a hand with SIX aces. Not that easy to beat.

There were a few drives to Sweet Briar College, just across BUSINESS 29, to take hikes and see horses, and two drives into Lynchburg to buy stuff (including pizza ingredients), but otherwise we mostly stayed put. The VCCA is right next to railroad tracks, and the freight business has picked up considerably since the last time I was there. Many, MANY trains passed at all hours, and Beff decided to take a movie of one. So she waited on the train bridge for an hour and nothing happened. One of the other couples, Lynda and Hal (writers), said that on their 1:00 walks there was always a train -- so we both waited on the train bridge after lunch and both got movies (me with the digital camera, Beff with the camcorder).

And besides the composers I already knew, there were several familiar faces that I was glad to see again -- Hal and Lynda, for instance, Anthony and (from an earlier MacDowell sojourn) Eunice. The core staff is exactly as it was back in 1990: Robert, Dorothy, and Cora. One of the stars of the "Colony" video (Amy) is still the resident artist, though with longer hair. And the office staff, meanwhile, was busy forgetting to update the driving directions.

So yesterday we drove back. We set the travel alarm at 5 to shove off at 6, but it failed to go off: I woke us up at 5:09, and we were on the road at 5:41. The weather had been very warm -- 65 on Thursday (on our walk I was in a t-shirt) -- and the low temp was forecast as 45. So all our delicate stuff went into the car for overnight (contact lenses and computers being delicate stuff). But when we got to the car there was a thin sheet of ice on the windshields and I --- gasp! --- had to use the scraper. We took the inland route in order to avoid all the Maryland and NJ Turnpike traffic (and especially to avoid the Washington beltway at rush hour), and that meant the first hour was spent snaking up and over the Blue Ridge mountains. And it was cool, not to mention twisty. The rest was a drive very full of large trucks -- especially in Pennsylvania -- and what had been a beautiful sunny day turned, in Pennsylvania and New Jersey, into a pea soupy fogfest. Hearing on 1010 WINS that the approach to the Tappan Zee bridge was very slow AND there was construction on the Merritt Parkway, we changed routes midstream, and went up 87 to 84 rather than across the Tappan Zee. On the way there, we lunched at the Sloatsburg (I think) rest area, and then gunned it all the way back to Maynard. We got onto Route 117 at about 4:15 and decided to hop right over to the post office to pick up our mail, then check with Maynard Door and Window as to what they did while we were gone (waterproofed the porch roof and probably plowed the driveway once), and THEN we pulled in, unpacked, etc. -- that was four trips each. After which we shopped at Shaws, I made dinner, and we washed the sheets. And Beff vacuumed.

The cats emerged immediately, and were REALLY glad to see us. Our parade of catsitters apparently didn't read the part of our (admittedly very long) directions noting that they only liked the Friskies chicken and salmon entrees, and fed them canned 9 Lives, which the cats shunned. We rectified the situation, and gave them lots of treats, and they were happy. They have, meanwhile, acted very needy, following us from room to room, and especially, after it is dark, following us into the kitchen in expectation of treats. Today, in the absence of the really heavy rain that was forecast (on the weather radar, the heavy rain was in bands that missed us to the west and the east), I drove for errands: a haircut, dollhouse wine at Colonia Wine and Spirits, food at Trader Joes, mailing bags at Staples, and more food (as well as two very nice rice bowls) at the Joyce Chen oriental market. I made some lovely tom yum for lunch, and dinner will be chicken sammiches. And Boston lettuce, which I got at Trader Joe's.

So now the future? Don Berman's etudes, and then finally several big pieces to follow. Tuesday I have a doctor's appointment (prep for surgery), and will pop into Brandeis to see if any of the five incompletes are complete. I am in Chicago Wednesday to Saturday (shout out to my homeys). Meanwhile, Beff will let Dunn Oil in on Friday for the yearly furnace maintenance thing for which we have a contract. After that, other things happen, and I will try to keep the gentle reader apprised, if not actually appraised (because you know you have value).

This being the first post of the new year (2006, for those who have been playing along at home), I have included my yearly Year In Photos, with one photo per month from my iPhoto library. In January, Kate Desjardins did a big piece at the deCordova (it is the pink stuff in back of her), and I was there to capture her fun with rabbit; in February, I captured Sunny looking at Amy D's cat Ranjith on the old iMac; in March, I captured the lovely light of sunrise on Summer Hill after a particularly sloppy and sticky snowstorm; in April, the first day warm enough for hammocking was duly recorded as seen below; in May, I met David Smooke and Amy D at the Orlando Airport as we were about to begin the Atlantic Center experience: in June, after a rehearsal the Chelsea Art Museum for the St. Luke's gig, I captured Ingram Marshall's sneakers on the stairs above me; in July there was a lovely sunset over Lake Champlain near Beff's father's camp; in August I bought a Minnie Mouse pez dispenser specifically to take this nefarious extreme closeup;in September I photographed the big shiny apple at a produce place with the town hall of Bolton painted on it; in October, Carolyn (ka-ching!) photographed how I dressed to teach on Halloween; in November, a public statue in Burlington, Vermont, was captured; and in December during the amazing 14-inch snowstorm in which the last half fell in maybe an hour, I opened the front door and snapped away. At the bottom is a scan of the letter I got appointing me to the Naumburg chair -- for those of you who were asking (which is none of you).

JANUARY 22. My brother's 58th birthday. Breakfast this morning was fake eggs with 2% milk cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was Trader Joe's shrimp tempura and salad. Dinner was Scottish fish and chips, and steamers, at the Quarterdeck Restaurant in Maynard. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST EIGHT DAYS 7.7 and 59.7. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS For Wittgenstein, by moi, as Sooooooozie and Don Berman's first edit just arrived. LARGE EXPENSES this last eight days are office supplies at Staples, $39. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: in the summer after my freshman year, I worked as a security guard, on the graveyard shift, for MSI, where I was assigned to the time desk at Jordan Marsh. We would do 3 tours ticking off various security stations by turning a key, which was supposed to prove we had been there. I would occasionally steal long distance phone calls by making them from the business office. At the time, a newer Jordan Marsh was connected, Siamese twin like, to the old Jordan Marsh, and in that building we delighted in stealing light bulbs and dropping them down the eight-floor staircase (they usually broke). One night I was so broke that my dinner was free mustard and relish packets from the break room. Turnover was such that I was frequently called into do extra shifts, or double shifts, so I learned not to answer my phone. The local term for someone not showing up for work was "banged out". One night I was called in for the graveyard shift very late, I went to the Auditorium subway stop, and was shooed out in the most vigorous manner possible by an MBTA employee. Pay was $2.45 an hour, and just before the minimum wage went up to $2.60, the company advertised "15-cent an hour raise guaranteed within the first two weeks." COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is United Airlines. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: what is the literal translation of "strange" flavor chicken? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: dartle. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF this last eight days is wind. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Buffalo wings, weirdly stuffed or marinated olives. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK my house from the Google Earth software. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 9. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Lexicon. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are nothing, unless covering the top of the Klavinova with cat hair counts for something. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 4. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 5 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: MBTA buses stop in Bolton, Stow, Maynard, Acton, and West Concord on their way into Boston. Actually, just Maynard would satisfy. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Ameen Jamal. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Chairty. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,312. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: But he's been pretty much yellow, and I've been kinda blue. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: I didn't buy gas this week, but would have paid $2.29 in Maynard if I did. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the changes for the break in Night in Tunisia, the dreg de la creme, an elementary school pamphlet on the history of Thanksgiving, a brick house.

SANDSTORM!

The incredible mildness of the winter continues, as many shake their heads in disbelief to a point where I get dizzy just watching. Last year in this calendar month, Boston had its snowiest (calendar) month ever, and Letters to the Editor writers universally credited global warming for the phenomenon. This January seems to be running at least 10 degrees above normal, and the same letter writers will be writing the same things. And this is what music is like: the same thing means different things, and different things mean the same thing. Excuse me while I pat myself on the back.

SANDSTORM!

There is no snow to be found anywhere in Maynard except at the fringes of commercial parking lots; furthermore, the ground is not soggy. If there's a point to that observation, it eludes me, too. So naturally, we are all losing our winter driving skills. But gaining a friend. This freaky warmth extends at least to Chicago, where I experienced it first hand this week -- that and rain, sleet, freezing rain and snow. The richness of the experience amazes.

SANDSTORM!

But early in the week (Tuesday) I had to organize all the end-of-semester paperwork and grading from the fall into packets to return to students in the second semester of first year theory, and take it into work to Seung Ah (ka-ching!), who was to return it. My new endowed chair stationery had arrived, and I got to bring it with me. At Brandeis I saw Caro(ka-ching!)lyn, Mark, Marty, Eric Chafe, and many other colleagues, where I jawed about until I had to leave for my doctor's appointment -- which was, I thought, a pro forma thing to prepare me for the operation, and it mostly was -- except my blood work and EKG were officially outdated. So I got both done, and it was comical as the (male) nurse kept reattaching the electrodes to various parts of me, asking me to scoot up, scoot down, raise my legs, lower my legs, and then finally bring in a dred-locked nurse, who first asked me, "Are you alive?" She then looked at the monitor, said, "the readings are fine," and exited. You always wonder what's wrong with you when they have to readjust your electrodes to get the desirable result. And those are words by which to live.

Nonetheless. I packed for Chicago, got a ride to the airport, and it was incredibly warm and incredibly windy on Wednesday -- Beff said when she returned that the barbecue on the back porch had been blown a few feet such that it blocked the door. And I was worried that I wouldn't get out before they closed the airport -- "gusts to 60" sometimes does that. As it was, we got out on time, though many flights coming in from places to the near west were cancelled -- as that was where the storm was. We had the bumpiest takeoff I've ever experienced, which is not good for those of us who don't like to fly. Incredibly, a half hour after that, I was nodding off just fine. And we landed on time.

SANDSTORM!

I hired a professional redacter to do some work on this page, because the dacter I originally hired didn't finish the job -- though it was nice that at his office, his secretary said, "the dacter will see you now". Same thing happened, by the way, with the guy who fries the beans at the Mexican restaurant. But anyway, xxxx x xxxx x xxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxx. Xxxxx x xxx xxxxx xxxx xxxxx xxxxxx, Xxxxx xxxxxx, Xxxx, xxx Xxxxxxx. On Thursday, it got to 57 degrees, and X xxx xxxxxxxx xxxx XXXX xxxxxx: xxxx xxxxxx, Xxxxx, Xxxxxx, xxx Xxxxx Xxxxxx (Xxxx xx xxx Xxxxxx). X xxx x xxxx xxxxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx Xxxxxx Xxxxxx, Amy D, her SO Marc (see "Deceptively Simple" on the web), and David Smooke (who thinks I should misspell his name Szmuk (in the authentic original spelling) to become a double-fiver; but it occurs to me that a David named Szmuk would be a Davide and not a David. Hmm). Xxxxxx xxxx x xxx xxxxxx xxxxx.

SANDSTORM!

Xxxxxx x xxxxx xxxxxx xxx xx xxxxx xxx xxxxxxx xxxx xxxxxx xxxx. Xxx xxxx xxxxx xxxx x xx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx! Xx xxx xxxxxxxxx xxx xx x xxxxx xxx xxxx xxxxx xxxx. It was good to see Amy xxx xxxxxx xx xxxxxxx. Xxxxxxxx, Joe Francavilla came and got me -- Stacy was getting back from MacDowell on the same day. On top of that all, rain had changed to sleet, and the roads were a little treacherous -- which didn't faze (phase?) Joe and his Corolla. We picked up Stacy on the way back, I saw their new apartment, and we went out to an Irish pub xx Xxxxxxxxx. When we got back, Stacy showed some of her closeup photos, especially of one leaf, from MacDowell (I seem to have been the one who turned her on to the closeup shots), and we were all tired and went to bed. The next morning Joe drove me to the airport, and that was preceded by an amazing procedure of getting the rain, sleet, freezing rain, and snow off the car (I rule). My plane got off on time, and the pilot helpfully told us that there were big winds in Boston and the landing would be bumpy. Sigh. We took the approach from the due north, going right over the coastline, and every roller coaster-like movement produced squeals of delight from a toddler behind me that has yet to learn to hate to fly.

Upon my return, I was amazed to see that it was 60 degrees (normal high: 35), quite windy, and all traces of snow were, again, gone. Beff and I didn't feel like cooking (as in, I didn't feel like cooking), so we walked in the high winds (take 2) to the Quarterdeck. In front of the NAPA Auto Parts store we encountered a gust that practically lifted me off my feet, and pelted us with the winter's sand from the sanding trucks. SANDSTORM! Just like that Hercules movie that was on MST 3K, except we got to have seafood at the end of it. Beff got bluefish and I got Scottish fish and chips. So there. This morning after breakfast, we took out usual long walk to the Assabet trail, passing by the Ben Smith Dam, and back. As I type this, Beff is on her way back to Maine for her teaching week, I have just resolved two of the fall's incompletes (except for finding the form for that), and am now plotting and planning for the future of me'all's writing.

This week there is a meeting with the anaesthesiologist for my operation (I don't think I'll get a "the dacter will see you now" -- though it might come out that way if I were still in Chicago), and a day or two spent in Bangor, as Beff's faculty group is doing an all-Mozart concert. Weather permitting, of course. On Tuesday and for the following four academic Tuesdays I have to go into Brandeis despite my on leave status.

As I was typing this, weather bug chimed in with a "winter storm watch", possibility of 4-7 inches of snow tonight and tomorrow. Poop.

JANUARY 29. Breakfast this morning was orange juice and coffee, in Bangor. Dinner was a pizza at Pat's pizza with pepperoni, spinach, tomatoes, and "zesty olives". Lunch was the blackened chicken wrap at Sea Dog in Bangor. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 15.4 and 51.8. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS some of the wedding music from The Marriage of Figaro. LARGE EXPENSES this last eight days are office supplies at Staples, $34, but only $4 after coupon, and supplies at BJ's, $69. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: four of us -- Beff, Ross, Don Swin and I decided to form the Griffin Music Ensemble over a meal at the IHOP in Brookline -- there should be a placque or something commemmorating this. "The IHOP Ensemble" was the working name for the group until we realized a Griffin would be a cool logo. A local college with a Griffin statue somewheres would gladly have charged us hundreds of dollars for the privilege of posing with it. Soon we added John Watrous, Jessica Locke, and Allen Anderson, two-thirds of whom now fall squarely into the "whatever happened to?" file. Ross's habit of arriving late (which I knew well from Tanglewood) caused us to tell him meeting times that were half an hour earlier than we actually expected to meet. So yep, those 8 pm meetings started on time, with Ross's arrival usually around 7:55. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: how come there is strange flavor chicken but no strange flavor pop tart? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: curp. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF this last eight days is violent shifts in weather -- weary and fascinated both. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Mezzetta antipastos. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Bangor has less snow than Maynard. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 5.6. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none, though some suspicious rooting around the pantry cupboards is suspected. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 6. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 7 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: I get a royalty every time someone clears his or her throat. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Moira. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Hey there. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,312. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: Of the things that I can handle None of 'em's worth a candle. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.35 in Acton, coupled with a $7 car wash, $2.41 in Orono, and $2.31 in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a full-scale replica of the Empire State Building, the spit that collects when you play a brass instrument, three of those old-style pink foam curlers, a letter opener made of brass but coated with silver.

I start typing on Friday, with an intent to post on Sunday. More as it develops. It has not been an eventful week, nor has it been an eventless one. So I'm adding to the ennui factor by doing my biyearly thing where I pretend to take a stand on various controversial issues. People who like to stay awake are invited to skip to the next paragraph. Alito: qualified. Gay marriage: for. Roe v. Wade: for. George W. Bush: worst president in my lifetime, or anyone's. Republican Massachusetts governors: all of them mediocrities. The Democratic party: in the words of Mark Twain, not an organized political party. NRA wiretapping without warrant: impeachable. Plamegate: not enough information. Affirmative action: for. Abramoff: lousy skunk gave $50 to his alma mater in his lifetime. Minimalism and post-minimalism: growing on me. Serialist hegemony: historical revisionism. Greatest pop song ever written: I Want You Back. Runners up: Peg, Borderline, I Want You to Know, God is a DJ. Worst pop song ever written: Macarena. Runners up: Lollipop, Mambo No. 5, Popcorn, Rock Me Amadeus, I Always Feel Like Somebody's Watching Me. Winner of 2000 election: Gore.

Last week's update ended with a note that Weather Bug was chirping in with a winter storm watch, and shonuff, Monday's feature was a storm of snow -- known more colloquially and locally as a "snowstorm". Or schneesturm (which sounds like a sneeze). The total for that storm was about eight inches of heavy, wet stuff, and so that turned this winter into a two-snowblower winter (last winter was a five-snowblower winter, so we have some time yet). This was the first storm (that we were here) wherein there was enough snow, and enough stickin' together, that the sliding off the roof thing was dramatic, each and every time it happened. For those who haven't witnessed that (which is all of you), it's a five-second rumble followed by two seconds of whoomph, capped off by a big whump. It is comical to see the cats' reaction to each one: sitting at attention, looking straight ahead, wide-eyed, while that ears go forward, then back. Then there is the look of panic, and, given the attention span, almost immediate return to the sleeping position.

So I did use the snowblower to clear the driveway and walks, which has given me some nice residual pain in my left arm all week. That means I must brace it against me or something, because that arm also has the lever for forward motion. In any case, the coming Tuesday is showing signs of another possible heavy snow. Oh, lawdy, I hate it when that happens. In any case -- there was also time spent on Wednesday on the flat roof over the sun porch shoveling the snow off. I have gotten into that habit, once all the snow that will falls off the roof into its designated areas.

A blast from the past plays as I type this -- Gerry Itzkoff, who premiered HYPERBLUE way back when (1993), who was the soloist in the only public performance ever of my complete violin concerto, who played in the Griffin ensemble, and who migrated to the Cincinnati Orchestra, sent -- out of the blue, as we haven't been in contact for more than ten years -- a new CD of his of "20th Century Romantic Sonatas". Busoni plays as I type, and it sounds excellent. Another reminder of Boston's loss, and Cincinnati's gain.

And speaking of blasts from the past, Collage is doing my Dances in the Dark on its Monday evening concert, at Longy. An old problem with that surfaced: when it was done at Mannes a few years ago, I got an e-mail from the director (a double-fiver) saying that the cello part for the fourth movement was missing. Probably my bad. I got that e-mail again this time, so I made a point to reprint a cello part, including the last movement (page numbered 42 instead of 8), and -- get this -- got my first official use of the new paper cutter that cuts up to 15 inches! As I had to cut an 11x17 printout down to 11x14. I rocked, I ruled, and I grinned. Just a little. And then I disappeared, except for the grin. Then the literary police pooh poohed my plagiaristic side.

As the gentle regular reader knows, I go under the knife, and even get a little mesh added to me, on Thursday. I do not yet know at what time I am scheduled, but I did have to report to the Faulkner Hospital in Jamaica Plain last Thursday for an anaesthesia consult. So on Wednesday I dress-rehearsed the drive. Why? Because my appointment was for first thing in the morning and I didn't want to be looking at a poorly-drawn map during rush hour and losing my way. After my dress rehearsal I stopped at BJs specifically for big jars of hamburger dill picklage and fat free cheese slices, to which I added Roma tomatoes, Claritin (for Beff), a 50-lb. bag of cat litter (Beff's least favorite size), and whatever else I felt like. I also got bread and butter pickles for one of the ka-ching twins, which will be delivered when they are delivered.

So I did my Thursday morning anaesthesia consult, and because I hate being late (and I hate even more people who are late when I am on time) -- I would rather be an hour early than five minutes late -- I left at a time such as I was there, yep, more than an hour early. I walked a mile down Centre Street for the exercise and -- guess what? -- I walked back! What a boring neighborhood! Then I followed directions to get to where I had to get, most of which turned out to wrong. The first room I was sent sent me to another room, for signing in and/or registering -- where you fill out a form and stick it in a slot, someone comes out and grabs the next slotted form, and does the checking in. It occurred to me that this was one of the least efficient ways ever devised for this sort of thing, but hey, at least I got to watch a heartwarming story on Good Morning America while at least three interview people who obviously hate their jobs had their way with us. After my interview, I got sent to the first room where I was sent, which was, this time, the right room (as well as the third room). And my interview was over before it was scheduled to begin (I like to have my way with space and time). Dadburn it, all of the interview could have just as efficiently been done over the phone, but then my almost proud moment happened: the blood pressure reading. I have, for five years, been on hypertension medicine (two of them, actually), and it's usually pretty high when the readings are taken. Getting it "down" to 125/100 has been considered a success. But here the pressure taken was, inexplicably, 104/70, by far the lowest reading I ever got. Pretty obviously, I am not the Chair of my department.

And speaking of my department, my Tuesday was spent at the department in the first of our five interviews of the finalists for the untenured composer job. You won't get names or any particulars here, except where we went for dinner, perhaps, and other really dull tidbits. I was called in at the last minute to beef up the numbers for lunch with the candidate, and there ended up being 13 for a reservation for 9. So I'm not going to respond to any more plaintive e-mails of that sort. While at Brandeis, I participated in the bureaucracyfest that is changing a grade -- and I had two incompletes to resolve. That involved filling out a form that included the student's ID number (I had to search high and wide online for those), and justifying the grade change ("uh, like, the rest of the work was submitted and graded"). I did that by using my laptop, connected to the newly wireless Slosberg building, and that was empowering. Since I have no office, though, I had to carry the laptop with me everywhere. I hate it when that happens. And anyway, we went to the Tuscan Grill for dinner, which was quite empowering, or at least enfattening. The special was Bambi's mom, but I didn't get that. Eric Chasalow selected the wine. Eric Hill, the Theater Chair, came to the colloquium and dinner, so it was good to see him fully functioning within this search -- I told him I would give him a printout of all the music I composed for the Bacchae, and I printed one out, and I needed a 3/4 inch binding coil to hold it. Oh, lawdy. I love being the heavy, and all that connotes.

As I type this, I have just returned from spending the first portion of the weekend in Bangor. Well, that, and the eight hours of driving associated with getting there and back. I left Maynard before 7 on Saturday, brought some various things to Beff, and because yet more unseasonable warmth made it all the way up there, we took a walk around downtown before settling in at the Sea Dog restaurant for some hardy fare (which was hardly fair). Or is that hearty fare? After some hangin' out, there was another sizable walk into parts of the city I hadn't seen before, then a drive to the University, where Beff's faculty group was giving a Mozart's birthday concert (how predictable). The concert itself was well-attended and well-played, and it was interesting to hear some of Mozart's "epistle sonatas" for the first time, for organ, violin and flute. There was also a cello and piano fragment rescued from the Mozarteum and "filled in" by someone, and it was pretty much crap -- except for an interesting resolution of a Neapolitan. But the concert ended with the Kagelstatt Trio, which was sublime, worth wading through all the other stuff -- which, by the way, included one of those concert arias, this one with an Erwartung-like leap in it near the end. (Soozie said that leap is not that hard -- it's the tessitura of most of the rest of the song that is hard)

And this morning, after lounging about in my new maroon-colored bathrobe that Beff got for me mail-order, I drove back, talked a bit to Soozie on the cell phone, and settled back. Since Beff is catless this weekend, she has requested cat photos for this edition, which is fine with me -- I hadn't taken any photos all week, and boy are my arms tired (actually, they are -- still -- thanks to the shovelfest). So what we have is Great Road, our house, at 1:30 today; followed by five catpix that should be self-explanatory, as in, they explain themselves.

Just one more thing: I got a CD and DVD of Danielle Ingram's recital from last November -- in which she premiered the 63rd etude -- and it was very good. Also in arrivo, the first edit from Soozie and Don Berman's recording of For Wittgenstein for that gonzo American Academy in Rome recording thing. Again, kuhl.

Since last week I did a year in review rather than anything about VCCA where I had spent 3 weeks, the VCCA pictures are now here for your perusal. Also see "VCCA train" QuickTime movie in yellow text, above, which goes very close to the VCCA grounds. But first, here's my new letterhead, which is the first time my e-mail address has appeared anywhere on this site (I hate e-mail phishers).

FEBRUARY 6. Breakfast this morning was orange juice. Lunch was a salad with some Japanese soy dressing. Dinner last night was nonexistent. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 26.2 and 55.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Black Velvet, by Alannah Myles. LARGE EXPENSES this last eight days are various at Amazon, $300. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I took two organ lessons when I was in high school. We did have a little Hammond-type organ at home, but I practiced on the organ in the Congregational Church when I could find time. I had to buy special organ shoes (I used them for some while after -- they made me taller), and for the first time in quite a while, I had to practice. I was assigned a little F major prelude and fugue of Bach, and did make it to the point where I could kind of play the entrance of the theme in the pedals (which had plenty of neighbor note sixteenths). When I got frustrated, I pulled out all the stops and played Joy to the World with feet planted on the low D. It was about that that the pastor would compliment me as I left the church for home. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are Faulkner Hospital, but only a little itty-bit. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are probably Faulkner Hospital. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Is it coincidental that "scar" and "scare" begin with the same four letters? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: ploost. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF the prostrate position. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: salad. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK why stool softener may be essential. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 8. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances page, Reviews 3. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 3. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 13 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: the words "Uptown" and "Downtown" to describe music simply vanish (*poof*) into the ether. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: software10@virfilio.it. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Software Award! PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,332. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: Days like this I don't know what to do with myself all day and all night.. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.33 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the seven seas, draconian measures, a bag of peat moss, seventeen different excuses for being late.

Last week, I put two thirds of the"other" of Griffin in the "whatever happened to" file. By coincidence or fate, half of that two-thirds got in touch to catch up. Jessica, who was the group's singer and so much more, now is a filmcomposer (one word), still living in Watertown, winning awards, and has recently spent time with one of the hardest-hit fire companies from 9/11 and has written a memorial for them. But that beautiful voice is apparently going to waste. As to the other third, I actually know something about him second hand, but he is still a mystery.

Monday was a day of some driving. I drove to Alewife in the morning to catch a noon dress rehearsal of Collage doing my Dances in the Dark -- the lot was full, so I had to go to this other area at the end, and I was directed into place by some shifty types. The rehearsal was good, I was able to adjust some tempi and say hi to Bob Annis and Chris Oldfather, and make it back while it was still just a little spritzy. Then I was on my way to Alewife again in the dark at a quarter after six, and it was very hard to see with the spritzing, and the predictions of sleet and freezing rain screaming at me from the radio -- so I took the commuter rail instead, made it in plenty of time to see the concert, and it was a good one. Jim Ricci and Ken and Hillary and John McDonald were there, among others, and my piece came off rather well. There was also a Schuller piece that was about 75 percent solo cadenza that the critic led with. I only got to stay a few minutes at the reception, since I had to make it to a train going back, so I didn't get to see everyone I could have. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

On Tuesday, the second candidate for the Brandeis job went through the ringer on a day which, as of three days earlier, was going to feature up to a foot of snow, according to them what make. The classic front pinwheels around a stationary low over the Great Lakes and a new storm forms in the ocean thing. Classic! Classic! What happened instead was a bit of freezing rain Monday night, a day of rain on Tuesday, and an inch of snow at the tail end. This made it icky outside, however, so the interview featured mostly indoor stuff. Early in the morning, I went out in my nice new maroon bathrobe to retrieve the paper, didn't realize the rain was freezing rain, slipped on the first step, and slipped on all the others on my way to the final one. Just some bumps and a small scab on my right hand, but I was more careful coming back in. Concrete steps are fairly solid. I made it in in time for some of the lunch with candidate, and also took said candidate to meet the Dean, where I waited while resolving another incomplete (they just kept comin' this term, I swear). Dinner was at the Ariana Restaurant in Newton -- described by Eric Chasalow as really close and really easy to find, and it was neither. Eric Hill was going to meet us there, but couldn't find it (I will suggest that the remaining dinners happen on Moody Street, which at least we all know). The food was awfully good, however. I had orecchiette pasta with chicken sausage, and it was surprisingly the first time I had seen the word "orecchiette" -- little ears. More like little bowls, mind you.

And Thursday was the big day. Beff had arrived from Maine at 12:45 am ready for it, and we got up about a quarter after six. My arrival time was to be 8:45, and of course I hate arrival times square in the middle of rush hour and in the direction of rush hour. We actually got there maybe a half hour early, so we walked on Center Street in toward the city, taking every possible opportunity to disparage the neighborhood -- though the Arboretum was certainly a nice thing to have there. But no convenience stores or coffee shops or anything where you can trade currency for goods and services. We did pass the Italian Home for children, though -- none of whom can go out for a walk and get a cup of coffee, can they?

So the procedures were much as expected. I filled out paperwork, changed into hospital garb, and was assigned a bed in a holding pen, where Beff joined me. We tried to keep some conversation going so as to drown out the conversations about bad health from others in the holding pen -- and then came the parade. Everyone involved, or peripherally involved, in the operation came, introduced themselves, asked me the spelling of my name, my birth date, and what procedure I was having, picked up my data book, and signed something. Every other one had some papers for me to sign, and my favorite was from the anaesthesiologist: "oh, it's just the standard stuff -- you acknowledge that anaesthesia can cause heart and liver problems, cracked teeth, nausea, death, blah blah blah, you know, the works. Sign here." One doctor or resident with a thick foreign British accent did the spiel, and I looked at Beff and said, "Shazam? His name is .. Shazam?" Everyone, of course, wanted to comment on me being a music teacher, and one woman ventured some Ethel Merman (others noted that she would).

My IV was to be inserted by a third-year medical student, and apparently he was a virgin at this. The rubber tube thing happened to enlarge the vein, there was a bunch of tapping, and while the nurse watched, I felt prick, prick, prick ("no, a little more of an angle"), prick, OW!, prick, prick, "There!". Then the IV started and the nurse called it "breakfast". I said "mmm, sausage" and she added, "yes, and antibiotics". You could see both me and Beff straining for a joke here, but it just didn't happen. I felt the cold sensation as the IV started, and carried it with me to the bathroom once. How very civil.

So in all that context, I was wheeled, eyeless (had to take out the contact lenses) into the operating room, Ethel Merman was singing away, and an anaesthesiologist said to take four deep breaths. Naturally, I remember taking three. Later, I awoke in squalor, or a dark corner of the waiting area, received a few visits from medical types, was moved to a more comfy area, and changed back into civilian clothes. A nurse rolled her eyes and said, "Oh, it was Ferzoco. He likes his patients to urinate before they leave" and I thought -- it had been 18 hours -- doctor's orders -- since I'd eaten or drunk anything and I have to pee now? Well, I tried, and there was "not enough to measure". But I got to go anyway. The trip home was routine and Beff's dirving exemplary, and I was settled with an ice bag into our bed. I was extremely parched, so Beff delivered some lemonade and I drank the whole glass, then another half glass of it.

What I didn't know -- because the last time I had this operation I didn't have the knock-out anaesthesia -- was that, um, eliminating liquid refreshment would be slow and gradual, even though I felt at all times like I really had to. So that first afternoon of relaxing and getting rest from the operation -- at least half the time spent in the smallest room of my house. Finally things normalized a bit, I set myself up on the rocking reclining chair in the living room with a blanket and the cats loved that area. We watched some TV, but I remember not what. Finally I did a bunch of e-mail, since sitting was a better deal than lying down with an ice pack. And Thursday night featured a little bit of sleep.

Friday was better, more lying down, and eating began anew. At night we watched Galaxy Quest, a silly movie done right, and left the lights on for Geoffy, who was in town for more BMV rehearsals. On Saturday, the ka-ching twins came by with some sophisticated lunch like objects (as in: food), so we talked and ate and talked and ate, and Mike had some good jokes, and Carolyn went to a belt sander racing tournament. Geoff went to another rehearsal, and when he got back we did Domino's and watched the movie "Funny Bones", which started our whole Raymond Scott craze in the first place. Yesterday was a day of email and naps, then watching the first half of the Super Bowl, then going to bed.

Meanwhile, I had understood that I was to take 1 stool softener pill per day because of the binding properties of the painkillers. I looked at the label again this morning and noted that I was supposed to take 4 per day. I won't describe why it was really, really good to find that out. Meanwhile, today there was some orange juice, a nap, some e-mail, a nap, Maynard Door and Window replacing the computer room window, at which time I started the Celesta etude, and then a 3-hour nap. Boy, this convalescing thing is tiring. And tomorrow I have to go in for another job candidate interview, and since I can't drive until Friday, I have to get a cab. Oh joy. This morning Beff called and said she needed the tape part to "This is Why She Had to Quit Her Band," which was in the bedroom here, so I used iTunes to make an mp3 and I e-mailed it to her. When I inserted the CD, iTunes thought I had inserted a CD called "Holy Wars" -- so I went with it.

Meanwhile, I got a CD from Curt of Speculum's December performance of Inside Story. It rocks, and the story is not pretty. And with all the napping and stuff, I doubt I will make the 6-day limit on the etude -- but hey, for the first time, this one has phasing. More like microcanons, but phasing is so retro it sounds cool to say it that way. And now I'm ready for another nap.

And the weather continued its warm ways. There were TWO rainstorms during the Early Convalescence, and the second one caused some liquid to get into the basement. The snow is now mostly gone. But it is now colder and we are promised at least two weeks of more winter like temperatures. Don't you hate it when that happens?

There is a new movie taken this morning: I started a movie and let the camera dangle because Cammy was in Nuzzle Mode. See it in yellow text up on the left. Other pictures include two of Sunny in the new convalescing area, the second one on me; then Saturday's festivities people, and the spread we demolished; then the cats looking outside on Friday, Sunny on me, and the backyard with the snow gone as of this morning.

FEBRUARY 14. Breakfast this morning was orange juice. Lunch was hot dogs. Dinner was Chunky Chicken Soup and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 10.4 and 37.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Sara, by me. LARGE EXPENSES this last eight days are none. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I played the Arthur Pryor Variations on Blue Bells of Scotland with my high school band. It occurs to me that would have been the same concert as my first premiere ever, me conducting my own piece and the third clarinetists were all drunk. In any case, some dude instigated a standing ovation after the Blue Bells, and that may be the only one I've ever gotten. My only distinction in that performance was that I added a few notes in the cadenza, popping out a high E -- which I now know was a leading tone that I failed to resolve in register. Bad Davy. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are Trader Joe's, for having a nifty hefeweizen that's cheap. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How many words end with "kin"? Here's your starter set: pumpkin, bodkin. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: lurat. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF is binary descriptions of the field of music, such as Uptown/Downtown. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: salad. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK little by little, the scar from the operation. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 6. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances page, Bio. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none, but plenty of cupboard doors left open and books knocked off of nightstands. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 1. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 19 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: balding is sexy. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: dblagntm. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Do you want women to have you in their sexual fantasies? PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,393. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: No apologies. I guess they buy you time till you next step out of line. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.25 across from City Hall. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the continental drift, beer that has gone flat, waltz tempo, a pile of used computer parts.

This week, dull as it was, has a few things to report. As usual, I had to go in to BrandX on Tuesday for an interview, and since I was prohibited from driving by the doctor, I took a cab. Maynard-Acton Taxi seems to be sufficiently marginal that they don't say "Maynard Acton Taxi" when they answer the phone, and I got the impression that the driver popped on over from another day job of some sort. And he wanted to talk about restaurants. The post-festivities dinner was at Tom Can Cook in downtown Waltham, and since I was still bandaged and all, I wasn't in the mood to eat much. I ordered vegetable tempura, and a giant plate of artery-clogging breading material came to me, allegedly with a few vegetables inside. Note to self: avoid tempura at Tom Can Cook. Josh gave me a ride home afterwards, as I am practically on his way home.

After all of that, Wednesday was pretty much a rest and recuperation day spent in the reclining chair under a blanket. How spaced out was I? I watched all of a Leonard Nimoy-narrated program on the location of the Ark of the Covenant without changing channels. Cold weather has come back, so there wasn't much in the way of outdoor activities, though I did go out once, while the ground was still bare, to move branches that had dropped in the January windstorms into the discard piles. And there were quite a few. But more vigorous activity -- including driving -- didn't happen until after Beff got in Thursday night. Actually, she got in early enough that I could cook, and it was salmon burgers, baby, done on the grill outside.

Friday was my post-op appointment with my surgeon, and all was well. Beff had gotten me some deluxe big bandages to use, which the surgeon marveled at (he actually called them "deluxe"), and he gave permission to stop using them (especially as they were beginning to itch). Little bits of tape left there are going to fall off of their own accord (some have), and otherwise I was given the green light for everything except heavy lifting. So I drove us to Trader Joe's in Framingham, where we got a lot of nice things. TJ's now has a range of boutique beer flavors, and their hefeweizen is quite good, and so cheap. I also got some chips that are neither baked nor fried, and it turns out they're not tasty, either. For dinner on Friday we thought we'd try a new restaurant that's just opened in Acton -- Not Your Average Joe's. We were next to a large table with twelve women and one man (likely an office party), and they got elevated pizza. Moi, I got the salmon with sundried tomato paste and it was good. That restaurant seems like it will be on our list.

We had spent the afternoon Friday finishing the tallying of our deductions for tax purposes. And that was a big, big job. Unexplainably, we could not find the March and April bank statements, alas. But I can now tell you the final cost of rewiring, and of roof work, and of door and window work. But I won't.

By Saturday, dire warnings of a Noreaster were piling up, so Beff decided to go back Mainewards on Saturday instead of Sunday. So we embarked on my first significant exercise since the operation -- a morning walk downtown with the expressed purpose of getting toothpaste, out of which we had run. There was beautiful icy formations by the river, so I packed up my camera and took some closeups (I'm a sucker for funny icy formations). Not so oddly, after Beff embarked, I pretty much spent the time asleep.

Earlier in the week I had received an e-mail from Adam Marks, a 2000 Brandeis graduate who was in the first theory class I taught at Brandeis. On Halloween that year, he and Eve Crevoshay came to class dressed as Adam and Eve (which is their names), and part of the costume was a big pile of leaves. We could have raked in Room 215 that day. Adam came to Amy's 2002 New York recital and dug the etudes enough to solicit scores. He eventually premiered Madam I'm Adam (for vanity reasons, apparently), did Fists of Fury for the Yaddo benefit in New York last May, and recently premiered Absofunkinlutely last fall. I still have not heard it.

So Adam entered the Orleans International Piano Competition in France, which happened last week. Among the many prizes offered are a composition award from the Chevillion-Bonaud Foundation for the piece played in the first round that the judges think is best. Or niftiest, or coolest. Adam entered Absofunkinlutely for that award, and it won, which enriches me by 4600 Euros (around $5500 last time I checked). Adam, meanwhile, made it into the second round, but says he screwed up in the second round and emerged without a prize. It's weird that I emerged with one. So the Orleans people e-mailed me for account information, which I had to get from Bank of America -- whoo daddy they've got a complicated series of things to go through to talk to an actual person. I now know BofA's routing number, and EVERYTHING. And any reader who wants to look at the Orleans info can see their webpage, oci-. I join Ken Hesketh and Unsuk Chin as winners of that award, incidentally.

Sunday was the Day of the Storm, and we were lucky to be in a dry spot of it for about two hours. The storm was strong enough to have an eye when viewed on satellite images, and it was New York City's biggest snow producer ever. Here we got about 14 inches, and it was a test of the snow removal people that Maynard Door and Window use (and that we hired). After the first five inches, a shoveler and a plower came, did the nasty, and returned at about 10 at night. Alas, they did not completely do the top of the driveway where we need the space to turn around, so yesterday morning I took out the snowblower and finished the job. Since the snowblower is self-locomoting, the only exertion on my part was the hands holding the blowing and locomotion levers down. So now it's a THREE snowblower winter.

Yesterday was also the day the music I wrote for the Brandeis producion of The Bacchae was getting recorded, and Bob Schultz and the Lyds were there for a 10 to 2 block. J. Hagenbuckle, who took Music 5 with me, was The Man, and he set up two close mikes and got a feed from the hanging mikes for the best mix. The mix was essential, if you've ever tried to balance timpani and a string quartet, after all. Having vastly increased the potential repertoire of string quartet and timpani music, I feel no need to do so again. So the nine cues with timpani got into the can splendidly, and I had to turn pages for one of them. My bad. The other 26 went nicely, too, though at one point one of the quartet said the music was "terse". Well, it's the the-ah-tah, isn't it? Things were done by 1:30, so there.

And another day (Sunday) was spent on the etude with optional celesta. It's actually better than it seems, though the title thing is going to be hard again. I have ruled out celesta puns, so Celesta The Mohicans is out of the running. It occured to me that the etude is really about figuration in the hands done in canon separated by a sixteenth note -- very much like what Martler and I used to (and probably still do) like to do with the figuration from Tubular Bells (the Exorcist music) -- play it as fast as possible and then try to do it in canon separated by one note. So if anyone is ruling here -- it is I. Martler is the Crown Prince.

And tomorrow I begin a three-day New York sojourn. TJCMS is done on Double Exposure, and I already know the clarinetist lost at least one rehearsal to the blizzard -- being that he was in Arizona and unable to get in. While there I will see Jonathan to get our taxes done, will see Danny for beer and Harold for lunch, will be staying with Jay and Marilyn, and will do whatever else has to get done. At the same time as the Double Exposure show, Beff is playing a concert at Del's school, so she will be getting back late here, and the cats will be glad to see her. And NEXT week is Brandeis vacation, which, nonetheless, features for me a dissertation defense. I plan to come out a-swingin'. Or not.

And I finally got to hear Jim Goldsworthy's recording of "Sara", which I copped from Hayes, who has it because he is writing the liner notes. It is a pretty piece, and Jim takes it faster than the tempos I indicated -- which is probably the right thing to do. I remember that Amy and Rick Moody were in on the composition of it -- Amy chose the first two notes, and Rick the second chord (he suggested B-A-D because of the way he felt at the moment, and I sharped the D).

This week's pictures begin with Terrace Kitties, followed by a nifty new snow cap for an ornamental bit of the house after the storm. Then there are three of the ice formation pictures and three pictures from the Bacchae recording session. Nothing else is new. And not even any ka-chings for the Ka-Ching Twins.

FEBRUARY 21. Breakfast this morning was orange juice and Boca meatless sausages with melted 2% cheese. Dinner was Chunky Chicken Noodle Soup. Lunch was two hot dogs with inlaid yumminess. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 7.9 and 59.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Abracadabra by the Steve Miller Band (Thanks, Beff). LARGE EXPENSES this last week include boutique beer to give to the staff at the MacDowell Colony, $45, various painting paraphernalia $15, dinner and Corsendonks with Jay Eckardt and Danny Felsenfeld, $110, black teaching jeans and a cat litter garbage pail at K-Mart, $60. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was in sixth grade, I got to play in the local (high school) district music festival, in the second trombone section. Dunno why, but it was nice experience. I was rather small compared to the rest of 'em, but covered the part just fine. I was able to get a (reel-to-reel) copy of the concert, and for months afterwards I delighted at playing the second trombone part along to the tape. The sanity of my parents and sister would certainly have had to be called into question during this period. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are Inko's, because how could they not? THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How many words end with three or more consonants that include neither diphthongs nor plurals? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: flokst. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are the Cheney shooting story and Mary Matalin. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: meatless sausages with melted cheese. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the Local Live website. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 1.000000001. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances page, Sound examples page, Compositions page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none, but Cammy nuzzled a bubble-wrapped piece of porcelain clean off the dining room table, and it survived. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 4. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 31 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: less is more. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Perry Burger. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Re: t rundle news. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,400. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: He's no good at being uncomfortable, so he can't stop staying exactly the same. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.53 in Connecticut, $2.11 across from City Hall. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the tension and release model, cold storage, ten things that have no middles, the darkest part of a Twinkie.

Updates will be quite sporadic following this one, as the colony hop proceeds in earnest beginning next Monday when I drive to the MacDowell Colony and mostly stay there for six weeks. I remember that I filled in "11:09" as my arrival time, so I better get it right. Whenever I go there to visit friends who are in residence, I bring some unusual beer for John Sieswerda, because it's what I do. I already have this year's selection, a-waitin' staff consumption. In answer to your question, no, I don't know which studio I will have. The last person I know who was there was Stacy, last month.

Only Martler bit at last week's cosmic quandary (how many words end in "kin"?). The starter words were bodkin and pumpkin. Martler did not originally find "skin", as I did, but the results of the poll are as follows (and I quoteth): Munchkin, Gherkin, Jerkin, Liebkin, Kin, Kindertotenliederkin, Lambkin, Fuckin', Skin, Foreskin, Mooseskin, Snakeskin, Davyskin. This week's puzzler is a little harder.

Today The Maids clean up this joint, so I must be prepared at any moment to be kicked asunder. At which point I plan to visit the Framingham Trader Joe's to get some cheeeps that Beth likes (with goat cheese and reduced fat), and to get yet more provisions at BJ's, including dry cat food. The tension is killa. Meanwhile, life continues on apace. I am close to finishing etude #71, and it will be a little longer than most. Close enough that I named it (not a funny title) and included it on the Compositions page. Later in the week (as in, tomorrow) is Sam's dissertation defense. Thursday I drive to Maine for dinner with Beff -- who will spend the weekend traveling to, being in, and returning from, Nawth Carolina. And next Monday it's off to Peterborough.

Last week's fun with the fourth job candidate at Brandeis was fun indeed. This time the restaurant was the old standby Asian Grill, and I got my fave Tom Yum Soup -- which was a little more lemony this time than usual. I also brought along the laptop to fill the idle moments, and it was a little surreal retrieving an e-mail from Adam Marks in the middle of the hall with a recording of his Orleans performance of Absofunkinlutely. The sound came out of the little laptop speakers just fine, the tempo is blistering, and it sounds pretty durn cool. And while there, I helped Ms. Ka-ching herself, Carolyn, with a Valentine's Day movie made with her camera and edited with iMovie, and she took pictures of me. For whatever reason.

At a quarter to six on Wednesday morning I shoved off (figuratively) toward the Big Apple to attend the latter part of a 10 to 12:45 rehearsal for Take Jazz Chords, Make Strange, to be performed on a Chamber Music Society Double Exposure concert Thursday. The drive was fairly eventless except for clumps of slow traffic around Fairfield, and I listened a lot to 880 ABC news -- shows you what I know. After parking at my usual place on 112th Street, I dropped my bag off at Jay and Marilyn's and took a subway to Lincoln Center. The subway stations now have kiosks where you can buy your Metro Cards and I was taken aback -- touch screens? Something associated with the subway that actually works? And hey, at the kiosk, 20 bucks gets you 24 bucks worth of trips. I felt like I had achieved -- no, earned -- a real bargain. What new innovation will next greet me at a subway stop? Free pie?

The players for my piece were really, really good, and really young, and very nice, and it was fun watching the interaction as they rehearsed. The blizzard had effectively scuttled at least one rehearsal, so more efficiency was obviously called for, and their parts had been cued to the hilt. There was not much for me to say except complain about tempi and give autobiographical detail about the piece. Hey, the outer movements both have 100 measures -- as Dan Stepner put it, one for every senator. I told the cellist that he was Rhonda Rider and the clarinetist that he was my wife, and that didn't seem to help.

The weather had gotten really warm -- near 60 in New York -- so I took a long walk both in the park and out of it, got tired, and crashed at Jay's pad, where I think I must have napped. At 6 I walked to the Abbey Pub, which is the scene of so many craven evenings with Jay and Marilyn, and met Danny Felsenfeld there, too -- whose beer I bought. Danny has been losing weight -- but gaining friends. I didn't realize that he and Jay didn't know each other, but now they do, somewhat, and Danny had to leave early for a concert. So Jay had the veggie burger, I did Buffalo wings, and the Corsendonk flowed, so to speak. At the end of the evening, the bartender, whom Jay knows, sent over two free Irish whiskies, and I gave mine to Jay -- I no be a hard liquor drinker. I think that one did Jay in.

On Thursday there was to be another rehearsal at who knows what time, and no word came to me when that would be. But I had a noon appointment with Jonathan, and I got there at 11:40. Jonathan was running behind, as usual, and an assistant typed in the income and charitable stuff. Jonathan was his usual hyper self, and this time since he was so far behind and others were waiting, too, we simply discussed the return, I gave him the meticulously calculated numbers I had, paid him, and off I went. I left at 1:15 and walked from 28th Street to Lincoln Center, since it was yet another gorgeous day. There I spied my old friend Valerie Guy, who knew when my rehearsal was (3:30), and that's when I found out. My rehearsal was yet another nice one, and Keith Fitch came in for his 4:30, and I listened until I had to meet Ken Browne for dinner (5:00) at Dan's. Keith used harmonicas, and that was pretty cool. I was ALSO glad that he had a keyboard part that was both piano and celesta, since that's what I was working on, and it confirmed everything I needed to confirm. And the pianist did NOT resemble Rick Wakeman.

The event itself was a hoot. Simeon Hutner, a filmmaker I know from MacDowell, was there, and Anthony Gatto, whom I know from Yaddo, had a piece, and it was another rollicking evening. And even Don Hagar made it. In my first give-and-take with Bruce Adolphe, I said that I played with a little lick from Lee Hyla's bass clarinet piece that Beff was working on and I could have called it "Hyla Lick Maneuvers", but didn't. Bruce said he had a piece that had "Heimlich" in the title, and I asked if it choked people up. You could hear all the mental rim shots that people were making at that point, so I sat down. Great concert, twice, and I finally met my hero Gene Caprioglio from Peters. Who made it through both sittings without dying. After the concerts, there were many conflicting impulses of places to go, none of which I went to. So Jay and I subwayed uptown, went to a little bar for one beer, and retired for the evening.

Friday was actually a more eventful day -- it started warm, again, and nearly all of the evidence of Sunday's record blizzard was gone by now. I did a nice lunch in the Village with Harold Meltzer, two hours at Cafe Fortuna with Michael Adelson, and another two with Michael's composition student, Aaron. And my raspberry tart was lovely. My return to Jay and Marilyn's to pick up my stuff coincided with Marilyn's return from playing at a saxophone conference in Iowa City. And off I went at 6:45, not having the sense of duty that Jay had to go to a friend's wind ensemble concert. Instead, I drove home midst a sea of high wind warnings. Except for the dark, it was eventless, and I was home and in bed by 10:30. With my lovely wife.

The three days of incredible warmth demolished the detritus of Sunday's big storm, and our yards are once again bare. I had considered going onto the flat roof outside our bedroom to shovel some snow off -- despite doctor's orders -- but ultimately decided against it. The weather took care of it anyway. The only snow left is the big pile by the corner of the garage that the professional shovel-boys left there. Though instead of 5 feet high, it's a foot high.

Saturday turned bitterly cold, and a bunch of quick snow squalls actually left a substantial white dusting around. The temperature was only about 15, so when the sun came out -- about 5 minutes after the snow squalls -- the snow in direct sun melted. Pretty cool, as the pictures below will testify. Beff and I walked downtown to pick up a few things for painting -- finally -- which will happen when she is on vacation, and nearly got blown over on our way out of the hardware store. Friday's windstorm had snapped a huge branch on one of our pine trees, so we had to pull it loose, saw it into pieces, and drag it into the discard area. We also had to readjust the tarp on the storage shed, naturally. A trip to Shaw's for provisions brought us eventually to K-Mart, as Beff was looking for a small garbage pail for kitty litter for when the cats make their brief move to Bangor. There I got me 3 new pairs of black jeans, which allowed me to do some triage upon our return. Everything else was just a light. Later we watched the latest installment of Project Runway -- it's such an addictive show, even for straight guys.

On Sunday Beff had to go to Maine by 10 in the morning in order to catch a matinee show of Jesus Christ Superstar done by students at the University of Maine, and there she noticed that there are now some extra numbers now that kind of suck. Meanwhile, I got two solid days in on etude #71, and it verges on completion. Yesterday I decided to back up some G5 files on my traveling external hard drive, but one part of the power cord seems to have gotten lost (I had it at the VCCA but don't know where it is now). I also decided to do Software Update for the laptop, connected it to the networking cable that was in the Windows computer, and nothing happened -- no internet, no nuthin'. So I made a trip to the Maynard Geek Computer store, got a new 25 foot network cable, got a replacement power cord, and noticed a remarkably detailed birdseye picture of downtown Maynard on the large monitor in the store. It turns out there is a website called local. that does those road maps and satellite things like in Google Maps and Google Earth, but it also has some remarkably detailed pictures, taken from four vantage points, of several urban areas -- including Maynard. So I looked it up when I got back, and it doesn't work with the Safari browser. But it does work with Firefox, and it ... is ... so ... cool. There is enough detail that you can see our lawn furniture, even. It is so geeky that I played with it for quite a while -- probably explaining why etude #71 is not yet finished.

As mentioned already, updates until mid-April will be sporadic or nonexistent. So get used to it. Today's pictures include two not at all taken by Big Mike (ka-ching!), but he was in the room when the first was taken. The first two, taken by Carolyn (ka-ching!) are me in recovery mode behind a table of fixin's, and me in the Brandeis department officeon Valentines Day (note hearts on page behind). Then there are three shots of snow that didn't melt because of shadows: a car, a telephone pole (the legs are Beff's), and our house. Then, two little bits from local.: first, a small thing of our house looking north (you can see the lawn furniture and garage), and a large picture looking south, where you can see our yard (outlined in red) and the context of our neighborhood -- including the much remarked-upon Ben Smith Dam. Note the proliferation of what Beff calls "execu-ick". You can also see just a bit of the old Assabet railway on the other side of the river.

MARCH 11 BRIEF UPDATE: I have been at the MacDowell Colony for 12 days now, have written etude #72 and am at bar 160 of a big piece. Full update upon my return April 10, and maybe some more teeny weeny ones like this. Last night's dinner: steak fries, peas, breaded sesame chicken wings, and salad. I am here today to paint, but not the way the visual artists at MacDowell do. Crocuses have sprung up in the back yard, and temp extremes since the last update are 6.8 and 68.0.

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MARCH 17 BRIEF UPDATE: Ten-minute movement finished. More on the way. Last night's dinner: chicken, asparagus, couscous, and salad. Tonight's event: dinner with Lee Hyla and Kate Desjardins. What once was warm has now been cold.

APRIL 11. Breakfast this morning was Boca meatless sausage patties with 2% milk cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was a cheeseburger club at the Horseshoe Pub in Hudson. Last night's dinner was salad with Good Seasons dressing that's been in the fridge for some time. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST SIX WEEKS: 6.4 and 73.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS MIDI of the third movement of my piano concerto. LARGE EXPENSES this last six weeks include Santa Barbara Olives, $200+, and that's all I remember. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was doing work study at the NEC library my junior and senior years, I was charged with training the new circulation chief, or my eventual boss. Her name was Mary Ellen Sweeney, and she was so sweet -- way, way, way, WAY sweeter than the head librarian, who was in desperate need of you-know-what. Bob McCauley's contribution to the lexicon that year was her nickname: Smelly Air In Weenie. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none, but a meek shout-out to the local Jiffy Lube, who still makes you stand there rolling your eyes as they go through a long list of things they are trying to get you to pay for that they can do that you don't need. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is Inko's because they always do, and Santa Barbara Olives. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How many words are there that are intrisically funny? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: stoob. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are the ineptness of the current administration, the new design of the NY Times web page, people who think vowels are better than consonants, and chipmunks. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: rashers of MacDowell bacon, fruit for breakfast, unsweetened lemonade and limeade, Santa Barbara olives of various kinds. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK "funky" works at several different speeds. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: "toomey" (a number so special they gave it a name). REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Lots of various pages. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are a few things in the Maine house -- Beff says they knock over at least one thing per day. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST SIX WEEKS: 11. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 42 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Bicycles that pedal backwards. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Biaggio Felts. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: VAL I UM. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,739. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I haven't been shopping for any new shoes. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.61 at Cumberland Farms: but $2.18 just after the last update six weeks ago. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE vomit, more vomit, lots and lots more vomit, a sickeningly large torrent of vomit.

So there I was briefly in the music department this afternoon (Please Post; Summer Opportunities; Come To This Lecture; Your Faculty Research Request to record your piano concerto was turned down) and TWICE I got the "when are you going to update your webpage?" query -- each time in increasingly desparate tones. Or maybe it was disparate tones. Well, it was both. And the answer is -- whenever it is that you see this.

So what is there to report? Well, I was away at the MacDowell Colony since February 27, leaving there only a few times (once to paint here in Maynard, once to do dinner with Lee 'n' Kate, once to talk to patrons of the Rockport Music Festival, and once to talk to a class at the Walnut Hill School), and accomplishing a great deal. I wrote Don Berman his second etude, my 72nd, on an ancient Hebrew chant (Davy plays against type). I re-wrote an article on titles for New Music Box. And I wrote three movements of a piano concerto, which now stands at about 21 minutes. For you old-fashioned composers out there (you know who you are -- and that's the problem), that includes the orchestrating and entering into Finale, and I can report that so far it stands at 79 pages. The quickie piano part I generated is at about 36 pages.

The MacDowell trip was my eighth there, and my 20th colony hop in all. I can report that it resembled other residencies in a lot of ways, and was unique in a lot of other ways. For one, I find it hard to believe that it was only on my eighth trip to MacDowell that I discovered the old stone amphitheater from 100 years ago. And that this is the first trip where I learned the names of all the maintenance staff and kitchen help (Rob, Jamie, John, Blake, Anastasia, Lila, Ashley, etc.). And for the first time there I saw both deer (the white-tailed variety) and wild turkeys (not the one that comes in a bottle, which, if you think of it, is really hard to get them to do). My studio was Watson, for the second consecutive time; last time I felt a little listless and that the music coming out was almost arbitrary (Dream Symphony). This time I felt very energized, and as if at least the scherzo movement of this piece was significantly inspired. I've felt that way before and I was wrong -- so cave canem, and what it is, too.

And in my last colony hop, in 2003, I have hundreds of pictures of STUFF and maybe eight pictures of PEOPLE. I rectified that this time out, although a significant portion of my pictures were taken at parties with people doing stuff they may not want to be remembered for. Though if any organization calls me and asks me for a professional photo with a candy dot stuck to my forehead -- I've got one. And I can provide them for Lisa, Christy, and Nikki too (Eduardo, always the innovator, posed, instead, Davy-like, with a triscuit).

After 20 residencies, I always try to stand back a bit and not get too attached to the other colonists -- being that I have quite a few lists from previous residencies with addresses and names of people I could now not identify in a police lineup, and lots of times I've tried to get together with colonists many months or years later and things just don't work out. Well, that cool displacement thing didn't work this time, either. It took me many weeks to get into the groove -- as the colonists who predate you have lots of stuff to bond about already (it was the windstorms and the electricity going out this time) -- but once I did, stuff happened. Mostly, parties. For instance, I spent about two hours wearing balloons in my shirt one night, also with lipstick on my lips and eyebrows. The pictures that people took I want to use when I win the Nobel Prize (I hear they're instituting a prize for silliness). Though I wasn't the only one wearing prostheses that night. But I may have already said too much.

For the first time since Yaddo 1991, there were people who wanted to play E-flat blues, which is a trick I use a lot in theory classes (to explain the minor pentatonic scale) -- though there was a brief pilot program at Yaddo in 2000. Julian, a writer from New York, in particular had the "feeling", just not the technique. It was interesting to hear him form his ideas and actually develop them through a chorus. He always did the same stuff in the stop time choruses, though. And one night at dinner the poet Jo and I played chords on the oil and vinegar bottles -- eventually, with two empty wine bottles accompanying a fairly tuneless rendition of "Wrapped Around Your Finger". Jo, for her part, is very musical, which hit me when after I played the "Ray of Light" video she declared "that's the video where she discovered her head voice". E-flat blues in Gretchen's studio with Jo and Julian playing was both inspired and long.

As usual, I really dug going to open studios, readings, and other presentations -- especially the two that served unusually strong drinks (one margarita isn't supposed to knock you out, is it?). And finding out that muscle memory alone is sufficient to sound okay playing the E-flat blues -- thanks for the snowflakes, Gretchen.

As the weather warmed -- which took longer than a cadence in Tristan und Isolde -- I got to exercise, finally, hiking all the trails on the property repeatedly, and occasionally doing cartwheels. More on that later. But the sedentary, reflective lifestyle together with the unusually good food this time conspired to make me heavier. So back to walking and biking. Except not when I'm in Italy....

Speaking of which, I do that next Tuesday. The housesitter is Christy, a visual artist who had the Heinz studio. See her website over there to the left. And then when I get back, it's biking again for me, matey.

Back to MacDowell. The last week got pretty intense in the party division, culminating in a dance party in the amphitheater at night after Lisa's open studio. We were VERY dedicated, as it was maybe 45 out when it started and 35 when it ended. This is where I rediscovered my inner cartwheel. I also stood on my head and was asked to form the letters "YMCA" with my legs (as they had nothing else to do at the time). I did the best I could, and I was told I got the "A" while I was falling over. The one tangible effect these dance parties had on my post-MacDowell life was that I purchased Nelly's "Hot in Herre" from iTunes. Which you would think would be intelligent enough to let you find the damn song if you spell "Here" like the rest of the world does. Yes, that's me -- the rest of the world.

Externally speaking, Beff finished her two-week vacation and took the cats to the place in Maine. Where they at first hid in the box spring, and lately have discovered many kitty-cubbyholes in the attic. I drive there tomorrow and will delight, yet again, in the fried pickles at the Chocolate Grill in Old Town. So the house has been a little weird by myself, since I instinctively have presumed creaky sounds to be cats following me, which they can't, unless they were many, many miles longer. And about 4 weeks ago, on the first day around 70 (it was brief indeed), I drove to Maynard so we could paint in the downstairs hallway -- there was both a replastered and repaired stress bulge and a repaired ice dam stain in the alcove. The painting was fun, and Carolyn came along, and the crocuses were out, and the cats were in the windowsills, and there was beer and seafood, and it was a real hoot. Then it stopped.

And about a week and a half ago I appeared at a soiree (or whatever the afternoon version of that would be called) for board members and patrons of the Rockport Chamber Music Society. I got some very stimulating and interesting questions from an audience of people who were my age when I was born. Even better, I had buffalo wings that night.

Two weeks ago was an adventuresome day. Eddo, a colonist, took a ride with me to the South Acton train station, where he took a commuter rail in to meet with people at Harvard and MIT. Meanwhile, I did a talk at the Walnut Hill School and some various things at the house in Maynard. I was at South Acton to pick up Eddo for the 8:30 arrival, where we had decided to go for sushi at the Korean place in Maynard. The train came and went, and there was no Eddo. Luckily, he had called my cell phone earlier in the day, and as the train pulled out of sight, I called him. He answered. "You missed your stop". "(word that means) fecal matter". Quickly, I devised a plan -- I would drive to the Ayer train station and pick him up there. As I drove out of the station, he checked his printed schedule: "Yep, there's a stop called Ayer." "Then meet me there. And get off the train first." He preceded me by 10 minutes, since I didn't know the shortcut (and I did 2 revolutions of the rotary in Ayer, not being sure actually which one brought me downtown). We DID make it to the Korean restaurant, but they were out of sushi. Eddo got beef bulgogi, which he could not pronounce. I, by contrast, got something that I could pronounce. And we arrived at Colony Hall that night at 11:17.

So yesterday was the day of packing, having The Last Breakfast (there was a great moment where I was at the center of the panel and everyone pointed an accusatory finger), driving home, shopping at Roche Brothers before my final arrival, unpacking, and preparing the house for summer. Ah, installing the screens (including the attic, which always involved spraying some hornets to their deaths), oiling the chains on the bikes, putting oil and gas into the lawnmower, and picking up branches from the yard. How very nice. The crocuses are now gone by and the daffodils are out. I am not calling them trumpet flowers this year because I never have before, why start now? This morning, John Aylward and I did a long hike in the nature reserve, discovering a working old radar tower that looks like a golf ball there (there were cars parked by it), and after I took him to Brandeis, I took a 6-mile or so bike ride -- to, but not around, Boon Lake. Ah, nature.

And that's about where things stand today. There may be time for another update next Tuesday (my flight is in the evening), and there may not be. Meanwhile, enjoy the pictures. Since there were so many, I reduced them to get more in. There are three pics from painting day. Then, follow along: Kyle, Blake and Michelle; the DAVY t-shirt in the basement of Colony Hall; my studio; Colony Hall in the fog; two of my closeup ice shots (there are a lot); Lisa and Gretchen; MaryKate, Paula (obscured) and Cassie; Eduardo and Mark; MaryKate and Christy; David A; Nikki with a candy dot; Lisa setting up the sound system at the amphitheater; the (dark) dance party there; Mark on the rope over the fire pond; and the picture Julian took of me and Jo doing the blues. I am thinking of pickles.

APRIL 17. Breakfast this morning was meatless sausage patties with 2% milk cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was a large salad, and grapes. Lunch was hot and sour soup. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 36.0 and 76.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Music" by Madonna (the only pop music setting of the word "bourgeoisie" that I know, and yes, I had to go to to confirm the spelling). LARGE EXPENSES this last week is a new, vastly more deluxe binding machine, $273. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My first colony was VCCA, and the first presentation I attended was on by a composer -- 2-1/2 hours including a refreshment break. I remember well a reading by an Israeli journalist and the question and answer session where someone asked about "the West Bankers", and the response was, "you can't call them West Bankers, not just because they aren't bankers, but also because you would then have to have Gaza Strippers". COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is Roche Brothers supermarket, who has someone bring your food to your car, and refuses tips. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: What was it like to vote for W? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: trianicide. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF include anything that uses the word "Rumsfeld", itty bitty flies, and generic e-mails from work. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Cajun pitted olives, seedless grapes, lemonade. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the cats make a lot of noise at night. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 9. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Reviews 3, and this page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 1. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is unknown. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 0. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 39 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Glasses that see into the future. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Adrianne Clyde. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Re: Hi. horn-shaped. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,787. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I want to make a mistake. I'm going to do it on purpose. I'm going to waste my ti-i-i-ime. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.69 at the local Mobil, $2.77 in Orono. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the first step of a long voyage, one way of looking at a blackbird, an Easter seal, a blade of grass.

Hey, lots of e-mails last week congratulating me on the resumption of the useless information that goes into this space (which would be nice if I could intentionally leave it blank. Hey, I'll practice that. Hold on.

I love wasting bandwidth. If that is, indeed, what I am doing. 'cause I'm not sure what bandwidth means in this context. Maybe there will be more blank space in future updates.

Speaking of which -- the next update won't be until late May, as I am practically on my way out the door, since I'll be in Italy at the Bogliasco Foundation Liguria Study Center (there may actually be words I left out) starting ... RSN. I am hoping to finish my piece there, and in any leftover time, either walk around Italy, or write piano etudes. Your (non-silly) ideas for etudes are welcome. No incendiary devices, talking, or use of extraneous body parts, please.

So this last week had a nice break in it, as I drove to Bangor and stayed in our SECOND mortgage for a few days. The place, being much smaller than the Maynard place, makes it easier to hear the much noise that the cats make at night when at play -- claw-sharpening on the wicker chair in particular, sounds particularly cavernous. Beff has also allowed them to go into the attic, which is something they beg to do when the door is closed, and they get into crawl spaces and get all dirty, and stuff. Cammy goes from gray and white to gray, gray, gray, gray, gray, gray, and white (that's not got MUCH spam in it). During the time Beff was teaching, I went to the mall to get nice pants for Italy -- for you see, I hear they make you dress for dinner. And I did, I did.

The event of note was the band and wind ensemble concert at the U of Maine, which we caught and probably enjoyed. Well, at least the wind ensemble sounded good. The first two pieces were as generic as they get (Beff said the second one might have been constructed with a band piece construction cookie-cutter set that could probably be found on the internet), and then genericness reached its zenith in a performance of a movement from a Weber clarinet concerto. The cute thing about that being the opening, which in the arrangement had the solo clarinetist accompanied by nothing but a sea of other clarinets. Cute. The concert ended with yet another set of variations on that Paganini tune that everybody uses that stopped about fifteen minutes after it was finished. The encore (The Thunderer, I think) was played about twice as fast and twice as loud as anything I've ever heard before.

Beff and I drove back at the same time, as she was on her way to Vermont for Easter with family, and the fastest (though not shortest) route takes her in this direction, and we decided both to go to Maynard, do salmon burgers on the grill, walk in the newly opened Assabet Nature Preserve, before she continued on. There we saw exactly one snake and heard exactly no peepers. But the weather was gorgeous -- it had been raining and cold in Maine -- and I busted out my Baywatch flip flops for the first time this season (you betta believe they are going with me to Italy).

Hin and Kellery came over for Kellery's birthday and stayed overnight. We hit the Quarterdeck (I got the clam roll) and Erikson's Ice Cream (not in that order), and enjoyed little single-user limoncello bottles. I gave them a bunch of SB Olives, which they forgot to take with them. We played with some of my chatter stones -- little rounded and polished magnetic stones that "chatter" when you throw them in the air a few inches away from each other. I even used the sound in my piece -- three percussionists doing it should be impressive. And we took silly pictures wearing said chatter stones.

Saturday was quite warm, and I'm pleased to report that the rhubarb is growing very fast, the daffodils are out, the forsythias are blooming, and the quince bush and front yard rhododendrons are starting to bud. It was a day of yard work, and I'm also pleased to report actually mowing small bits of the lawn -- we have a bit of crab grass in the far back that looks like the back of Dennis the Menace's head (not the British Dennis the Menace). Late in the day, Christy -- the housesitter while I'm gone -- came with her trailer of stuff, which was installed under the pine trees, and I was impressed that she knows how to back a truck with a trailer and aim it. Then I gave her the tour, we did the Quarterdeck, and we tore another page (figuratively) off the calendar.

Early in the week, I did my first traverse of parts of the Assabet Wildlife Refuge with John Aylward, and the exercise was good. This was followed by lunch in Hudson, and a trip to the impressive bridge over the Assabet for the bike trail -- and it is BACK UP. So we walked on the bridge, looked at things way down, made fun of various things, and I brought him to Brandeis, where I got my mail, etc. -- I believe I already reported that last week. I have now taken two exercise bike rides, including the one around Boon Lake, and saw ONE of my dogs that I regularly give bones to. Max was not available.

Cassie seems to have left MacDowell, as we got an e-mail from her about getting to all her pictures on a Kodak site online. They are impressive, especially the ones from the night of balloons (yo, I am WAY cuter than Gina Lollobridgida). And -- the noive -- there was a dance party in Calderwood AFTER I LEFT. I'll have to see someone about that.

So Beff took the binding machine with her to Maine, before I realized I needed to use it before I left for Italy. So I got a new, more deluxe one this morning at Staples (it can hole-punch 20 sheets, not just 10), and took the opportunity of being on Route 2A to pop into Quick Cuts for a quick haircut. I was tired of having wings, and now I don't. I'm also tired of all the times the phone wings and the caller ID says "Unknown".

VCCA Hal has been sending "poems by others" as a regular e-mail feature, and now it seems he has begun an epic poem called "35 etudes for piano" to be dedicated to me. Hal has a blog, and you can link to it in blue over there to the left. Check it out, check it out.

So I repeat. No new updates until late May.

This week's pictures include the before-and-after of our painting day a month ago, a lovely pile of junk that was left outside at the Wildlife Refuge, a baby radar thing we encountered in the refuge, the first green coming on to the weeping willows by the river, John Aylward not learning how to relax in a hammock, Hell and Kinnery trying out the Korean masks that Seung Ah gave us, them posing with a pair of chatter stones, and me at MacDowell being way cuter than Gina Lollobridgida. If you got to this page by a Google search for Gina Lollobridgida, I guess you're out of luck. But now you've got three hits on the same page. Gina Lollobridgida. Four!

|The Title Pool |

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|By David Rakowski |

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|Published: April 19, 2006 |

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|David Rakowski |

|Photo by John Aylward |

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|What's in a title? A piece by any other name would sound the same. Do they relate to the music? Should they relate to the music? Does |

|there even have to be a relationship? |

|It's pretty hard answering all of those questions, because the answer is different for every composer—and indeed, even for different |

|pieces by the same composer. Titles are specific and nonspecific, poetic and concrete, generic and particular, clever and stupid |

|(between which there is a fine line). Titles can suggest how to listen to a piece, or give no clues whatsoever; they can link a piece |

|to a tradition or ostentatiously renounce one; they can call attention to technical details in the piece, or they can refer to |

|extra-musical metaphors that may have informed its composition; they can even suggest something of the personality, prejudices, |

|training, or hobbies of a composer. So trying to answer those questions with a yes or no is foolish—since the answer is yes and no. |

|Except to the very first question. |

|One thing's for sure—a piece's title is frequently the first contact between the composer and the listener. It's through the title that|

|the listener will form his or her first impressions or set expectations (or preconceptions) about the piece and its composer. A perfect|

|example appeared on this website in a review of a CD of music by this writer: "if I were going to infer anything from the titles |

|bestowed upon his compositions, my guess would be that this guy is a total goofball, or at least harbors some strange affinity towards |

|Babbitt's bon mot titles." Got it in one. |

|So what is a "good" title? What is a "bad" title? Are those even pertinent questions? Even the "best" title in the history of humankind|

|can't save or make up for clunky writing and mishandled form, and by the same token, the "worst" title can't take away from a sublime |

|moment when, say, the English horn emerges from a busy texture and takes over. Density 21.5 refers to the atomic weight of platinum, |

|but is it a "good" title for a solo flute piece? Daniel Felsenfeld's Smoking My Diploma reveals Danny's attitude toward the physical |

|manifestation of the conclusion of his education, but does the title prepare me adequately to listen to a piece for amplified and |

|distorted oboe, cello and piano? Would I listen to the piece differently if it were called Composition for Amplified and Distorted |

|Oboe, Cello and Piano? Hey, supposing the answer to that question is yes, would it actually be a different piece if it had a different |

|title? Suppose Varèse's piece were called Starts Low, Gets High. Suppose The Pines of Rome were called My Weekend in the Bahamas. Or |

|Smoking My Diploma… |

|We're inundated with titles every day, from newspaper articles to books to poems to technical manuals to pop songs to pieces of visual |

|art and a lot more. In most cases it's the title that is our shorthand, or placeholder, for referring to those things when we think |

|about them or talk about them. So, by that token, it must be good for titles to be unique, or at least distinctive. But, of course, |

|titles are not subject to copyright. I can call my bassoon duo Mahler's Symphony No. 2 in C minor if I want to, or Scrapple from the |

|Apple, or The Wizard of Oz. If titles were copyrightable, there would be no more pieces called Symphony No. 1 or Invention or "Call |

|Me"—indeed, all the short titles would already be taken, and titles of new pieces would be as long as this paragraph. |

|Let's talk about popular music. I love the titles of Country and Western tunes because so many of them indulge in clever punning and |

|word play—after all, who could see the single of "All My Ex's Live in Texas (That's Why I Live in Tennessee)" at Tower Records and not |

|be tempted to buy it? Or "Get Your Tongue Out of My Mouth Because I'm Kissin' You Goodbye"? It's a great game making up C &W titles for|

|songs that will never be written—my personal favorite is "Even My Dung Beetle Can't Stand You 'Cause You Ain't S**t." These titles |

|serve a commercial purpose: they are memorable and unique, so that when you go to the CD store or look online you know what to ask for.|

|And when enough people ask for it, down payments are made on real estate by artists, distributors, agents, and everyone else in the |

|chow line. |

|The titles of commercial pop songs similarly are meant to be memorable and particular, and in a pretty rigid way. Most often the title |

|comes from the song's hook. Since the hook usually comes in the chorus, you hear it several times during each play; so naturally when |

|you go get your own copy, it's the hook that you remember. Think "Let It Be" or "Hollaback Girl" or "Little Red Corvette" or "I Want |

|You Back" or "Signed, Sealed, Delivered I'm Yours" or any one of hundreds of other songs you may know—admit it, when you read the |

|titles it brought to mind a little bit of those songs. (Now quick: Symphony No. 4! What piece came to mind? How about Intermezzo?) |

|Still, pop song titles are not unique—wizened ones may remember that "Hold On" by Wilson Phillips was one of two songs on the Billboard|

|Chart with that name at the time it was making me lurch so frequently to change the channel. And a brief trip to iTunes reveals no |

|fewer than 129 tracks with that name available for download, of which more than half are different songs. |

|Since mass market popular music is overwhelmingly vocal music (i.e. songs, with text), the relationship between the song and the title |

|is usually straightforward. And titles of songs, and by extension, album titles are generally short. An album's title should fit on the|

|spine of a CD case, after all. Of course, there are exceptions to this tendency. But I doubt Fiona Apple would get up in front of an |

|audience and say, "I'm going to sing a few tunes from my album, When the Pawn hits the conflicts he thinks like a king what he knows |

|throws the blows when he goes to the fight and he'll win the whole thing 'fore he enters the ring there's no body to batter when your |

|mind is... (That's just half of the title; I fell asleep typing it). The side of the CD reads "Fiona Apple—When the Pawn." |

|In the world of so-called art music, the impulse to sell is less of an issue, hence titles are more abstract and more varied—especially|

|as so much of it has no text from which to draw a title. I imagine that in the early days of notated music, titles were hardly an issue|

|at all. The vast majority of notated music was vocal music, and it was easy to refer to a piece by the beginning of the text (the |

|closest thing the medievals had to a hook). If a composer wrote a polyphonic setting of the Agnus Dei (called in the church "the Agnus |

|Dei"), it was pretty sure to be called "Agnus Dei," so as to distinguish it from a "Requiem Aeternam," which has a different liturgical|

|function. When Perotin set a text that began with the phrase "Viderunt Omnes", I'm pretty sure it was called "Perotin's 'Viderunt |

|Omnes'" (and not what several generations of music appreciation students have called it: "the 'Ee-hee Hee-hee Hee Hee' song"). I also |

|imagine it became a little harder when composers became suitably prolific to have multiple settings of the same text, especially a |

|Mass. Here's where the underlying chant material might have been used to identify which mass setting a particular composer did—e.g. the|

|Armed Man Mass. |

|I imagine that when instrumental music started to come into its own, then titles became more important. No familiar text to quote? How |

|do I think of this music and what do I call it? Hey, how about a canzona per sonare? If you like that, you'll love Canzona per Sonare |

|No. 2! But those were both just practice for Canzona per Sonare No. 3! So a whole new class of titles emerged having some reference to |

|or derivation from Latin and Greek words for sound and singing. Sonata? Sounding. Sinfonia? Sounding Together. Concerto? Sounding |

|Together. Cantata? Lots of singing. Oratorio? Really, really serious singing. Also, when composers became more particular about which |

|instrument played which part, titles simply referencing the size and makeup of the group emerged: three instruments? Trio. Four |

|instruments? Quartet (or sometimes, Trio Sonata—blast that multiplayer continuo line!). Three string instruments and a piano? Piano |

|Quartet. Four wind instruments and one brass instrument? Woodwind Quintet. Oops. These composers had it pretty easy. Though I do |

|imagine it must have been a little comical for audience members to argue the merits of Haydn's 57th Symphony over those of the 69th, |

|72nd, 77th, 78th, and 82nd. It still is. |

|Abstract musical titles must have emerged not long after it was decided that it was okay for music to be about itself, without an |

|underlying liturgical function, and with some sort of perceived affect. There must have been debates at some point later as to whether |

|music could represent—or at least evoke—something other than itself. Hence titles like Pastorale, and eventually nicknames for pieces |

|originally given generic titles by their composers—Sun, Pathetique, Appassionata, Jupiter, Clock, Military, Rhenish, Resurrection. Once|

|the Romantics took over and gave us titles like "Gray Clouds," "The Poet Speaks," "A Frightful Experience," and "To A Wild Rose", all |

|bets were off—and the range of possible titles exploded. |

|Nowadays, just about anything is possible. Composers still write settings of the Agnus Dei and write symphonies and piano trios and |

|number them. Titles don't necessarily need to be brief for commercial reasons, and there is no length limit. They run the range from |

|the ever-popular Untitled (I wonder who would own the copyright on that one if it were possible?) and its sequel, Untitled, to La Monte|

|Young's The Empty Base (1991-present), including The Symmetries in Prime Time When Centered above and below The Lowest Term Primes in |

|The Range 288 to 224 with The Addition of 279 and 261 in Which The Half of The Symmetric Division Mapped above and Including 288 |

|Consists of The Powers of 2 Multiplied by The Primes within The Ranges of 144 to 128, 72 to 64 and 36 to 32 Which Are Symmetrical to |

|Those Primes in Lowest Terms in The Half of The Symmetric Division Mapped below and Including 224 within The Ranges 126 to 112, 63 to |

|56 and 31.5 to 28 with The Addition of 119 and with One of The Inclusory Optional Bases: 7; 8; 14:8; 18:14:8; 18:16:14; 18:16:14:8; |

|9:7:4; or The Empty Base (1991). |

|*** |

|I have tried to come up with a brief classification scheme for the ways that composers have used titles. The margin of error is roughly|

|75 points, and it's definitely a beginner's list. The classifications below are not mutually exclusive and often overlap—indeed, the |

|Venn diagram would look like a bubble bath. Nor do the classifications hold for every title ever devised. Hey, this isn't a Ph.D. |

|thesis. |

|1. Titles Taken from Pre-existing Texts |

|The most obvious examples of this kind of title are text settings that appropriate the names of the original poems or prose works. But |

|there are also instrumental pieces that draw some portion of their inspiration from a literary work and are titled accordingly. I have |

|encountered at least a half dozen pieces called A Certain Slant of Light (Emily Dickinson). Paul Moravec's Tempest Fantasy (inspired by|

|the Shakespeare play) is a well-known example, and Anthony Gatto has a violin and piano duo called The Sheltering Sky (after the Paul |

|Bowles novel). |

|2. Generic Titles |

|These titles reference a pre-existing name for a form or genre, most often used by composers no longer living, and often let you know |

|how many times a composer used this form before this piece. Sonata No. 1 in C major, Symphony No. 3, Fugue in G, Second Cantata, |

|Fantasy March, Ballade, Intermezzo, Polonaise, Waltz, Song, Blues No. 4, Stravinsky's Symphony in Three Movements. [Ed. Note: Generic |

|titles are so, well, generic, that standard usage also precludes them appearing in quotes or italics, which ought to tell you |

|something.] |

|In these titles, the composer doesn't mind making at least some casual reference to a tradition—whether it be slavish, ironic, or |

|somewhere in between—and probably thinks that the music stands on its own without any other sort of description. ("This is my symphony,|

|which is mine, and what it is, too.") The composer hasn't made a big effort to suggest how to listen to the piece other than in |

|reference to other pieces you know—seriously or ironically. |

|Generic titles have the potential to cause a little grief in this age of online downloads. To wit, I was recently looking on iTunes for|

|a recording of the Roy Harris Third Symphony and was taken to a Bernstein collection of recordings of American music. The album had |

|three pieces called Symphony No. 3, none of them with the composer identified. If I didn't already know how Roy Harris's symphony goes,|

|I wouldn't have had a clue from the 30 second previews which one I should download. |

|2a. Generic Titles: Ensemble Division |

|These titles simply name the ensemble involved: Second Piano Trio, String Quartet, Composition for Viola and Piano, etc. Some composers|

|use these titles as jokes—Bassoon Quintet for a solo flute piece, or Ezra Sims's String Quartet No. 2 (1962) (written for a mixed |

|quintet in 1975, titled so that a nonexistent piece attributed to him in Baker's Biographical Dictionary would no longer be incorrect).|

|Again, here the composer gives no immediate clue as to how a listener might approach the piece except in relation to previous piano |

|trios, string quartets, etc. |

|2b. Generic Titles: It's Only Music Division |

|Steve Reich's Music for 18 Musicians, Bartók's Music for Strings, Percussion, and Celesta, Adams's Naïve and Sentimental Music, and |

|Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik (which, ironically, I tend to listen to in the morning) range from the generic to the adjectival |

|clause. No assembly required. |

|3. Titles That Tell You About Technical or Note-Grinding Processes Used to Compose the Pieces |

|Spectral Study, Arrays, Dodecafonia—a title I've seen several times (I hang out on the East Coast)—and Whole-Tone Etude are examples of|

|such titles. La Monte Young's title above is such a title. Donald Martino's Mosaics refers to a technique of generating pitches. I've |

|known composers so wrapped up in the particulars of the notes that they come up with titles like Tri Tetra Hexa, for instance, to |

|describe a piece that derives 12-tone sets first with trichords, then with tetrachords, and finally with hexachords. (Babbitt did this |

|in his woodwind quartet, which he called Woodwind Quartet.) I don't have problems with these titles, though sometimes I wonder if what |

|I'm supposed to do when I listen is engage in advanced ear-training. I have yet to exclaim "Yes! The climax comes exactly where it |

|should: when the first discrete hexachord, so long suggested but never revealed, is finally unfolded!" But, of course, I exaggerate; |

|pieces titled this way are often very expressive and not necessarily just about the notes, despite the titles. I suppose Barber's |

|Essays fit here, but just barely. |

|4. Titles That Reference Other Titles |

|These titles either exactly reproduce or allude to another title, whether it's a title of a piece of music, a piece of visual art, or |

|something in literature. Hence Milton Babbitt's Il Penseroso references, well, Milton (John Milton). Kyle Gann's Bud Ran Back Out |

|references the be-bop standard In Walked Bud. The same composer's Nude Rolling Down an Escalator references Duchamp's Nude Descending a|

|Staircase. Jonathan Kramer's Notta Sonata explains itself. I find these titles inviting and disarming, as they usually show that the |

|composer has a sense of humor. Though given a program beginning with Nude Rolling Down an Escalator, I'm not sure I would know what to |

|expect, except maybe downward rushing scales. Which is probably a good thing. To call a piece Concerto for Orchestra nowadays, as |

|Lutoslawski, Jennifer Higdon, and Steven Stucky have done, is to reference Bartók's. |

|5. Titles That Allude to the Other Senses, Especially Sight |

|We are chock full of titles that reference other sensations, which quite often are described as providing the inspiration for a piece. |

|Indeed, David Smooke's Taste Sensation very specifically refers to such a thing, and it's also a pun. Ross Bauer's Chimera refers to a |

|kind of musical motive that appears and disappears, well, chimerically. Messiaen's Chronochromie means time colors. A great many of |

|these titles reference a particular quality of light—a metaphor much used in music through the ages (think nocturnes and Carter's Night|

|Fantasies). Michael Torke's color pieces are obvious examples. Jeffrey Mumford, who was trained as a painter, frequently titles his |

|pieces evocatively using visual sensations in combination with other sensations: ringing fields of enveloping blue, in forests of |

|evaporating dawns, amid the light of quickening memory, distinct echoes of glimmering daylight, within a cloudburst of echoing |

|brightness. These titles are very engaging, as they invite a kind of metaphorical listening that can be quite satisfying. |

|6. Titles That Allude to Something in Nature |

|Lee Hyla's Mythic Birds of Saugerties uses some bird calls from species common in upstate New York as musical materials. Messiaen |

|similarly lets us know his affinity for bird calls in Merle Noir, Oiseaux Exotiques, and Reveil des Oiseaux, among others. Crumb's |

|Voice of the Whale famously imitates whale sounds. Composers have also referenced rain forests, walks on the beach, fish jumping in a |

|stream, the cotton is high, etc. in any number of titles. Again, these titles invite a different sort of metaphorical listening which |

|can be very welcoming. |

|7. Punning Titles |

|These titles make puns on other titles, on popular expressions, on well-known lines from poems, books, and TV shows, and are often |

|outrageous. Milton Babbitt's punning titles have become legendary, for instance: None But the Lonely Flute, The Joy of More Sextets (a |

|reference to the piece's six-part counterpoint), Around the Horn (yes, a solo horn piece), and—while we're doing baseball jokes—Whirled|

|Series (also a reference to where the notes come from). Eric Chasalow's Suspicious Motives, Paul Lansky's Idle Chatter, Scott |

|Lindroth's Spin Cycle, Lee Hyla's Riff and Transfigurations are all pun titles. As Daniel Felsenfeld posited in his NMBx article on |

|humor in music, these are all very serious pieces by very serious composers, and the funny titles seem to be meant to be disarming, to |

|put the listener at ease before encountering some pretty challenging stuff. |

|8. Places and Times |

|Partch's Barstow: Eight Hitchhiker Inscriptions from a Highway Railing at Barstow, California is an example of a title taken from a |

|location—in this case, the location of graffiti that is set to music. There are also composers for whom the place and/or dates |

|where/when a piece was written become the title—think An American in Paris (Gershwin), Grand Canyon Suite (Grofé), The Dharma at Big |

|Sur (Adams), Vermont Counterpoint (Reich), New York Notes (Wuorinen). The titles of the piano pieces recently written by Pascal Dusapin|

|for Marilyn Nonken simply give the starting and ending dates for the composition of each one. It seems like Feldman's Rothko Chapel, |

|Varèse's Amériques and Ives's Central Park in the Dark would also fit here. |

|9. Other |

|Every list has its box for the pieces that don't fit, and this one is no exception. Some of my favorite titles "fit" into this |

|classification—David Lang's Eating Living Monkeys, the aforementioned Smoking My Diploma, Eve Beglarian's Machaut in the Machine Age, |

|Lee Hyla's Amnesia Variance. Let's also put Untitled pieces in this box. |

|*** |

|I don't intend to answer the questions posed at the beginning of this essay (you'll find questions for discussion in the back of your |

|textbooks), except perhaps to bring up my own relationship to titles. I'm pretty sure I was asked to write this essay because the |

|titles I have used myself have run the gamut; I am also often in on the titling process for the pieces my students write. In the latter|

|case, there is a list of things I advise against: avoid plural noun titles (I cut my compositional teeth in the time of Concatenations |

|and Gestures and Obfuscations and Ratios and, frankly, I am tired of the dizziness from rolling my eyes that much) unless they are puns|

|or references to other titles; avoid ellipses, especially leading ellipses (it almost always comes off as mannerist and pretentious); |

|and avoid long phrases all in lowercase unless it is a quote or pun (again, often mannerist and pretentious, and besides, they won't |

|fit on the spine of a CD). My best students are the ones who ignore those rules. |

|Like a lot of composers reading this, my titles range from serious to silly to outrageously silly. I have written (as of the posting of|

|this essay) 72 piano etudes, almost all of which have punning titles, and several chamber pieces with similarly funny titles. All of |

|the music is quite serious and detailed, however, so the titles hopefully have the effect of putting listeners at ease. Sometimes, |

|though, the clever title thing backfires. Recently at a concert where the composers were expected to speak about their pieces before |

|the performances, the moderator introduced the other composers with "let's talk about your music." I was introduced with "let's talk |

|about your titles." I could make a down payment on a house if I had a nickel for every time someone said something, paused, and said to|

|me, "You could use that for a title." |

|Believe it or not, when I finish a piano etude, I hardly ever have a title ready. I often take long walks with my wife Beth during |

|which we shuffle through all the puns we can think of for what the etude is "about" in order to come up with a short list (I give her |

|full credit for the "accent" etude title: Accents of Malice). Lately friends and colleagues have been lining up to get in on the act. |

|After I finished an etude for the left hand, people called and e-mailed with their title suggestions as if the future of civilization |

|depended on it. There were advocates for "left" jokes: Left Bank, Left Out to Dry, Left Alone (a finalist), Left Behind, Leftenant. |

|There were advocates for "left" expressed in another language: Sinister Motives (another finalist), Gauche Busters (got a huge number |

|of votes, but I hated it), Yes Sinister, Sinister Cathedral. And the jockeying for titling privileges got strangely intense. Finally, |

|more than a week after I had finished composing it (which took only four days), I got the title on my own: Ain't Got No Right. |

|And the Symphony No. 4 that came to my mind was the one by Brahms. |

|*** |

|David Rakowski was born on a Friday the 13th, and, unrelatedly, grew up in St. Albans, Vermont. He played trombone until he stopped. He|

|has lived in a redwood forest and on the eastern shore of Maryland, and now lives in western central eastern Massachusetts, so that the|

|commute to his job at Brandeis is 25 minutes. He and his wife Beth share a red canoe. |

MAY 24. Breakfast this morning was meatless sausage patties with 2% milk cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was a clam roll at the Quarterdeck restaurant. Lunch was 97% fat free Hebrew National hot dogs. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST FIVE WEEKS: 30.2 and 81.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Owner of a Lonely Heart" by Yes. LARGE EXPENSES this last five weeks include a necklace for Beff, 150 Euro, airport transportation, $222, and that's about it. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: As a kid of 9, I coveted the Monkees second album, which sold for $2.87 at the local W.T. Grant -- before there was a state sales tax. I did voluminous chores around the house in order to earn the $2.87 to buy it, and I practically wore out the grooves on the record. By playing it a lot. What did I learn about responsibility and the cost of things? Probably nothing. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are Air France and especially Charles deGaulle Airport, Terminal 2. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is the Bogliasco Foundation, and then some. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Who the heck voted for me for Faculty Senate? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sklurge. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF include breakfast focaccia and changing planes. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: hot sauce, hot sauce, hot sauce, ripe tomatoes, hot sauce, pepperoncinis, hot sauce. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the Portofino coast. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 5. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Reviews 4 added, Compositions, Performances. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST FIVE WEEKS is unknown. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 5. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 33 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: competent French airport management. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Hieronymus Meaux. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: conflu 238. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,485. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: I didn't buy any gas the last five weeks, but the lowest area price is $2.929. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the Italian government, a stone in your shoe, the vomit the maids didn't clean up, a Mexican jumping bean.

I am back from a lovely stay in Italy at the Bogliasco Foundation, and I brought with me the Italian cold. So while I am quite happy about the time I had there and the work I got done, Beff will report that I have been sniffing and coughing -- especially at night -- and it bums me out because this is only the second cold I have had since the millennium break. So pardon my whining.

So I made it to the airport just fine, while Geoff was staying at the house for a Musica Viva gig, and the flights to Paris and then to Genoa went without much of a hitch. Though there's this asinine thing at DeGaulle Airport when you change planes -- you have to go through security again, and there are few signs directing you to the terminal you need to find. "Check-In required" was on my ticket stubs, so when I found the sub-terminal where the Genoa flight was leaving from, I put my ticket through the "express check-in" machine, and got a "cannot read ticket. You are not checked in" message. Finally I figured out where to go (I was actually already checked in), to an express security area (I was the only one in line), and got to an extremely featureless waiting area to get on the People Mover that would take us to our plane, a CanAir 700 waiting out on the Tarmac in a different time zone. The flight to Genoa was hitchless, though I was surprised to be flying over snow-capped mountains -- I guess the Alps go farther east than I thought. The plane did a big spiral into Genoa, which is a pretty small airport with two pretty short runways, and I can report that a CanAir 700 can go from 300 mph to 0 in about 5 seconds (the passengers were able to do so in about 7). After going through the customs line (I was 2nd in line, but the agent started with the person 5th in line -- those Europeans), I encountered a man holding a sign saying "Liguria Study Center. David Rakowsy", and even though it wasn't strictly true, I uttered my first Italian in Italy to that man: "Eccomi". For comparison's sake, my first Italian in Rome was "Non sono in coda", though I think I should have said "fila" in place of "coda".

So I got a lovely ride in a tiny hatchback from the airport to the Bogliasco Foundation -- just barely east of Genoa and on the coast -- which involved going through exactly nine tunnels, some of them two miles long or more. Fighting through the haze of jet lag, I tried to have a basic Italian conversation with the driver (Danilo, who was to serve us at dinner more than two dozen times), and I remember that gas (benzina) is expensive, cars are small, and people are easygoing. The haze of jet lag prevented more from seeping in. Meanwhile, I got driven in Bogliasco through what seemed like little mazes just barely wide enough for cars, my luggage was carried into a spacious villa, and there were people having lunch that said Hi. In English. I was shown my room (actually, roomS), came downstairs to have lunch, did my best to stay awake, ate, talked, and went back to my bedroom. At which point I discovered my suitcase was ticking. The last jolt of my suitcase being put down in my room caused my electronic metronome to turn on, and I was pretty glad that didn't happen in the airport. 'Cause, like, Italy isn't the best place to buy new clothes, metronome, score paper, valigia, etc. I napped until 6:30, showered, got all fancily dressed up, and walked down to the main building of the foundation with the other Fellow in my villa, Daniele, who spoke nearly no English.

So here is the poop. The Bogliasco Foundation is on the Ligurian coastline, which is a very hilly area, and those hills are steep. There are two large buildings at "street" level that contain offices and housing and studios for four fellows/couples. A second parcel is 200 or 300 feet up one of those steep hills straddling a long staircase, and there are two sizable villas in that parcel, each of which houses two Fellows. Fellows learn a password to open the electronic gates to get into any of the parcels. It seemed that those of us in the upper villas each got three rooms: a bedroom, a study, and a veranda. My veranda was particularly large and scenic. In addition, the visual artist gets one level of a small villa where there is a studio, and the musician (that would be me) gets a separate structure even farther up the hill with a piano and (unlike Bellagio) a bathroom. Every villa and studio has wireless internet access, and since my studio was the farthest up, I got the biggest view. Dude, of the Mediterranean. I was also right next to a tennis court which the Fellows don't get to use -- unless, like Robert Frost, you like playing tennis without a net.

The structure of the day is as follows: breakfast runs from 7:45 to 9, and stuff is left out for you in whichever villa you stay. Lunch is 12:45 to 1:30 -- in the street-level villa if your room is there or in the Orbiana villa if your room is up the hill. Drinks before dinner are at the street-level building at 7:15 and dinner is at 7:45, which is served in a formal manner. So you must dress for dinner (my poor jacket survived 26 wearings and is none the worse for wear). Afterwards there are teas and apperetifs and a drink closet available. And sometimes some of the assembled would venture to a bar for some birra alla spina. There were, in all, nine there as Fellows -- one more than the eight you would expect because two of them are a married couple and both Fellows. There was me; Paul, a filmmaker from Ireland and living in Brooklyn whose studio was in the upper area; Cristina, an art critic and curator and translator from Milan also living in the upper area; Daniele, a sculptor from Italy living in the same villa as me; Gennady, a dictionary-maker from Moscow; William, a wearer of many hats including philosopher from Vanderbilt University; Michael, a well-known mystery novelist and TV writer; Maureen, an historian and wearer of many hats from Duke University; and Gurchuran, a writer and columnist from Delhi. Italian and English and snippets of French and Spanish were spoken at the formal meals, and occasionally (due to my influence, no doubt) we got silly.

For four and a half weeks, the food was unfailingly excellent, and at least one local dish is worth noting: pansotti, a ravioli in a nut cream sauce (I have pictures...). Though by three weeks into the residency some of us (especially me) were getting stir crazy over the lack of strong-tasting food -- so when Paul's S.E. Quoc came from New York, he was implored to bring hot sauces. I managed to consume all of the small vial of Frank's Hot Sauce he brought within 24 hours. The Sciracca hot sauce, meanwhile, sated us for days and days. Gurchuran's wife Bunu was able to visit for a week also, but those are all the spouses etc. that were able to make it. Though on the second day when I realized just how gorgeous the whole area and experience were, I tried to convince Beff to carve out a time for a visit. But the time was short and transportation too expensive to justify doing it.

There was plenty of exercise to be had -- we just had to get onto the staircase that separated the two upper villas and go up, up, up, and up, and we got to see many interesting things from hill culture. The San Ilario Church was a nice strenuous hike that Paul and Cristina and I did on occasion, and once Paul and I tried to see how high we could get. We encountered a virtual forest of rosemary bushes and stone terrace fences where the trail petered out that kept us from going any higher, but the view from that high up was pretty spectacular. And did I mention -- the view from just about anywhere was of the Mediterranean sea. Also discovered eventually was the Grimaldi Park in Nervi close by, and the sea walk connecting our "Irish Pub" (the Pub Duca) to the village of Nervi, about 3 miles in length and threading over several rocky beach areas. The town of Bogliasco itself was small and dominated by a gigantic railroad bridge, which also had beaches. And a supermarket called "Basko". And a few nice shops that cater to tourists. Apparently the tourist season is big there, and it was just getting under way as our time there was ending. What did I buy in Bogliasco? Some fruits and amaro at Basko, and a necklace for Beff at Longines Gioelleria. No, really.

So I worked very, very hard to finish my piece, and did just that. Thanks to our lunch conversations -- Paul, who had an annoyingly good command of Italian, Cristina, who IS Italian, and Daniele -- I got to invent a new musical term, "Va scimiamerda", or go apeshit. Cristina approved. I never asked about "anziani scoreggi", or old farts. The va scimiamerda section is for a little Rick Wakeman moment when the soloist plays both the piano and a toy piano. I also extracted one buttstick in the fourth movement: there is a passage with BOXES in which the strings improvise around a few pitches. There goes all my uptown cred. And I wrote a 3-minute cadenza while at the same time encouraging the soloist to do his/her own. So the piece times out at 33 minutes, approximately, probably more like 35. And it's tight.

In the time after finishing the piece, I started work on a piano quintet, which oddly started doing bird-in-flight gestures. That got me to listening more closely to the birds at Bogliasco, and since I also have to write a piece for flute/piccolo and two pianos, I took time to transcribe the birdsongs I was hearing. Click on the green "Birdsongs" link on the left to see what I got. At this point I have to go back to the piano quintet and rewrite what I have to make it, um, easier. A little easier, anyway.

On my last full weekend Klaus came to visit, and it was a welcome interruption, though I got a little blistery from all the walking we had to do. Klaus being around gave us a good excuse to frequent the tourist dives on the sea walk, and I got to have a real Italian pizza (or what seemed like one) as well as some crappy beer. Both nights he was there, we ended at the Duca Pub with the mostly Belgian beers they had, and it was quite welcome. Klaus's hotel was on the Viale delle Palme, and it was just like being back on Palm Drive at Stanford -- except that there was culture nearby. Klaus brought an Australian hot sauce, which certainly made my last week there.

Since most of the fellows arrived within a day or two of each other, there was plenty of opportunity for conversation, and strong bonds were formed -- especially those of us who lunched in the upper villa. We tossed breadsticks into each other's mouths (actually never succeeding) and invented silly cross-lingual expressions (for instance, "rompere vento", or break wind, has no meaning in Italian). And there were also the hikes up the staircase into the hills, trips into town, etc. Since Beff is thinking about doing a video piece on trains, I took quite a few train movies with my digital camera, and you, dear reader, can see one of them by clicking on the "Trainbridge" link in yellow above and on the left -- we both remarked that the landscape reminds one of the Triplets of Belleville.

On one day in our first week, Alessandra, the Assistant Director of the Foundation, organized a trip for us into Genoa proper, where we saw the site of Columbus's house, the old gate to the city, old churches, old ducal palaces, relics, and the port, and it was a fabulous trip all around. This was the only time I was to go this far away from Bogliasco, as I was satisfied to be doing my work and to take lots and lots of walks. There was a big overcrowded flower show to shun and also a big and vastly overcrowded mass fish fry in a neighboring town to shun, and shun I did. In 32 days, I never tired of the view from my bedroom window, of the view from my studio, or the sea walk. I probably would have eventually.

Paul and Cristina left the day before I did, which was a little sad, especially as our numbers were diminished at dinner that night. On the morning of my last day, I started coming down with the cold which I now hold. As usual, I got up early, and took the opportunity to walk into town one last time, and stand by the train bridge that goes UNDER the Foundation to try and take a movie of a train emerging -- and was successful. But you can't see it, so there. I got a cab to the airport, and it was uneventful. The flight to Paris was uneventful, though it was windy and bumpy on the way down, and I had a mere 55 minutes to make my connection. Here is where the fun begins. As the clock to my 3:55 connection ticked, the plane landed at 3:05. We got into the people mover by 3:25. We got let into the terminal at 3:35, where there were NO signs pointing to the E terminal where my connection was (the "transfer desk" and "shuttle" mentioned while we were on the plane were both nonexistent). Meanwhile, my throat was getting dry from the cold. Finally I found a sign pointing to Terminal E, which was a VAST distance, and when I entered it, there was a vast array of check-in desks with nothing pointing to departure gates. By 3:50 I found the door to the departure gates and it was preceded by -- about 75 people in line for passport control. After which there were a grand total of TWO security stations we had to pass through. About 50 people said "my flight leaves in 5 minutes!" to no reaction from security (as they were French). Throat getting dryer. People started cutting in line, so I did, too. And made it to my gate at 4:10. There was still a people mover waiting there, so I did not miss the flight. Meanwhile, I stood on the mover for a good 35 minutes, all the while watching people scurry back in the terminal for other flights. So luckily my flight was an hour late. Otherwise I would have been a day late. And a dollar short.

And on this flight, I was seated close to a lavatory and next to a Russian. Who changed seats, saying in broken English "I'm not too interested in toilet sound". Excellent, I thought, more leg room for a 7-hour flight! So about an hour into the flight an old man with many age spots and a Brooklynite-moved-to-Florida accent declared "I'm comin' in", sat in the Russian's seat, asked if I wanted his wife's seat because the video thing didn't work, asked the flight attendants to tell his wife that they were changing seats (the flight attendants smiled and did nothing). And during the dinner, he nudged me several times and pointed to food on his plate to ask me if I wanted it. You know, if I ever write a book on airline passenger etiquette, I think there will be a large section in the very first chapter with advice such as "Don't Nudge the Person in the Seat Next To You", "Don't Offer Food You Don't Want to Other Passengers" and "Ask Before Taking An Empty Seat". After the detritus from the meals got collected, the guy's wife came down, he announced that they were changing seats, and I was glad to see that his wife had a suppressed British accent. And said, "Don't shout. Take your headphones off." She then went back to her proper seat. Half an hour later, so did age spot guy. And I got my leg room back.

So the flight was an hour late, but the landing in Boston was smooth, the customs was fast, and my bag was right there after I did the passport control. I got my limo, and Christy was still in the house, where we shared some beers and spoke of the big rains here that I missed and the Mediterranean climate that she missed. And I methodically had small portions of all the food I missed: hot sauce (by the spoonful), dill pickles, Cajun olives, pepperoncinis. Meanwhile, I have this cold, and have coughed the night away a few times. Hate it when that happens.

The day after I got back, Beff got back from Maine with the cats, where they had been for about six or seven weeks. The cats are VERY happy to be back, and VERY needy. We took Christy out to dinner the other night, and for once the cats were not so skittish about a stranger. And now they are learning about the outdoors again.

So THIS weekend Beff and I drive a rental car to her 25th Oberlin reunion. If that's not fun, what is? Geoffy is here for a BMOP thing, and Christy will be back in her accustomed hammock. And finally it is forecast to warm up. 'cause this Typing With Really Cold Fingers is just weird. And then ... two pieces to write this summer.

For the benefit of the other Bogliasco fellows, I put hundreds of pictures online, which I invite you, dear reader, to view. Click on the "Pix" link up to the left for many of those, and the "Genoa Pix" for file lists. You may also see three QuickTime movies: Bastabasta is a silliness at lunch movie, while Cimaview is a panorama from our very high climb, and Trainbridge that movie of a train on the bridge in the town of Bogliasco. The green links are to PDFs of the four movements of my concerto, in case you are interested. The first two pictures below were taken from my room: the town of Bogliasco and Portofino coast very early in the morning; and the full moon over the Mediterranean. The small pics are of most of the group at dinner (L to R William's hands, Gurchuran, Paul, Maureen, Michael, Daniele, Cristina), and then of the tired stone lions in front of the main building set in relief to one of the dogs that lives on the grounds.

MAY 31. Breakfast this morning was meatless sausage patties with 2% milk cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was grilled chicken and steamed asparagus. Lunch was pizza at Village Pizzeria with an onion rings chaser. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 41.2 and 86.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS C'est la Vie"by Robbie Nevil. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include rental car (Mitsubishi Galant: in the future, just say no), amount unknown, and toner cartridge/Norton AntiVirus 10/DiskWarrior from J&R, $274. Ant traps at CVS, $15. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: The first piece I ever wrote -- February, 1974 during vacation, a 7-minute monstrosity for concert band -- quite obviously copped all the groovy licks in the band music I played at All-State and All-New England. My particular favorite was a trumpet melody accompanied by parallel sharp-9 chords. Terry Colburn was the lone person to identify from what piece I had stolen. There was also a big tutti near the end that had a pair of parallel 12-note chords in the middle of it. And "pair of parallel" is a fun turn of phrase. Unless you're stupid. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are Mitsubishi/Avis (boy, we could have used cruise control) and the Feve (atrocious service). COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is J&R Music (incredibly fast service). THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Who invented the word "tendentious"? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: climp. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF include reading about the Democrats' "lack of ideas" and various televised renditions of Taps. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Santa Barbara pepperoncinis, olives of various kinds, hamburger dills. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Oberlin has a Frank Lloyd Wright house. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 1. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Lexicon, this page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is none. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 9, dagnabbit. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 56 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: elephants that fit in the palm of your hand. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Peso I. Fainthearted. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Software. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,486. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.98, $2.98, $2.73, $2.67, $2.98 and $2.94. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE pipistrello in uscita dal inferno, the magnetic stripe on the inside of a DVD package, tweezers, any ant caught in an ant trap.

The preceding week was dominated in no small part by pretty nasty summer colds we both got. Mine started my last day in Italy, and as I type this, it hangs on tenaciously. Beff's is about four days behind mine, and she has asked about the progress of mine because of that. this cold is characterized by consistent coughing, occasional sneezing and running nose, and especially lengthy coughing jags at night that just won't quit. Mine is substantially better than it was four days ago, but the coughing won't quit -- though it is considerably less frequent. Menthol throat drops and the requisite smelliness have become de rigeur.

But around all the coldiness (thank you Stephen Colbert) was a big trip over the big Memorial Day weekend, and preceding all of that was a guest turn by our favorite guest, His Geoffiness. His Geoffiness was here for an Antheil-Gershwin turn with BMOP, and he copped a little hammock time in his down time. Infatto, he was here when we left for Oberlin on Friday. Meanwhile, Christy was back for another star turn as catsitter, and she did an enormously good deed: she shortened the outtake pipe for the washing machine. I had tried to do that months ago -- the washing machine tells you, only once you get it home, that the outtake pipe should be no more than 3 feet off the ground, and ours was about 6, and we can't control that -- but my hacksaw skills leave much to be desired. Leave it to a specialist in kinetic sculpture to save the day (it's now about 5-1/4 feet). The washing machine also has tended to move around the palette when spinning a large load, occasionally moving far enough to unplug itself -- and Christy found a sweet spot (her word, and ours, too) wherein it no longer migrates. Now that is awesome.

So besides a little lawnmowing and hammock time, and MANY, MANY letters written for composers applying for Fromm Foundation commissions (sigh), my activities consisted of more teeny revisions to my piece, fretting about having to restart my piano quintet, playing with tunes in iTunes, and getting to know "Mr. Trampoline Man". The last of that is the title of the second of my solo hand drum pieces. Michael Lipsey, who commissioned them, e-mailed an mp3 and sent a CD of a home recording of that piece. Dear reader, you yourself may hear the live performance by clicking on the yellow "Trampoline Man" link below. It is a passacaglia, whose theme is carried by the talking drum, with variants provided by the tabla. No, really. And since my webspace ran out of room, I deleted all my Bogliasco pictures. So now you'll have to rely on your memory.

So on Friday very early in the morning we set off for Oberlin for Beff's 25th reunion. The drive there was about 660 miles, and it was mostly uneventful -- despite being at the beginning of Memorial Day weekend. Leave it up to Oberlin to start a reunion on what we heard on the radio was the "third heaviest travel day of the year". The drive there was mostly uneventful, save about four hours through various heaviness of rain -- from hardly to really, really -- and an infuriating 40-minute delay southeast of Cleveland due to two lanes being blocked by a traffic accident. How dare they demolish their car on the day I'm driving through! The scenery for the first hour and a half past Albany was pretty nice, as it follows the old Erie Canal, and the somewhat depressed industrial cities were actually cool to look at -- even the large Beech Nut factory seemed quaintly nostalgic (I used to chew Beech Nut gum that was striped). Oh, and gas is way cheaper in Ohio than it is here.

Oberlin itself is a college town, flat, pretty, and full of things to do that seem interesting as long as you know you don't have to live there. We searched a long time for a parking spot before going to Reunion Central, where we found out that we were assigned a room in a dorm that Beff always wanted to live in, but didn't get the luck of the draw. For you see, this dorm has a turret room. We didn't get the turret, but we did get to relive dorm chic -- single beds on opposite sides of the room, a walk-in closet half the size of the room, and modular desks and dressers. Not to mention, undressing in front of naked men in the bathroom in the morning. It was at the end of a hallway, which made it seemingly fairly quiet. A buffet of usual buffet suspects was available to us in the common room, so we did what we could with it -- why, some of it was almost food-like. Beff reconnected with several people from her dorm and external apartment days, and it became somewhat of a clique. Indeed, if there is anything to describe our corner of the reunion, it is Chickfest. Plenty of graduates from the college came to the reunion, but Beff was one of a very few graduates of the Con (conservatory) to come. One of the few non-chicks encountered was the husband of Teresa McCollough, a noted Davy interpreter, but Teresa herself was not there. In fact, this thing about the spouse coming along with the reunioner was not too common. The men's room was on our floor, and ladies rooms on other floors. Ah, the long walk to the bathroom sure brought back memories -- very, very dim ones.

After the quasi-food dinner, I spent some time napping and coughing, while Beff discovered the wireless and did some e-mail. Later I did e-mail, too, and we retired to bed and coughed a lot. On Saturday there was a bit of coffee and not-quite-edible pastry products available, so we drank and not-quite-ate. There were plenty of walks around exactly the same parts of Oberlin, as well as nostalgia trips to various buildings where classes were given, now-retired or dead professors had offices, and long-gone hangouts. For lunch, the 25th reunion class was given what amounted to an appetizer lunch at the President's house along with white wine that made your nose crinkle, your eyebrows arch, and your eyes water. What had become The Group sat at one circular table, and sat through an "umm" and "uhh" filled narrative from the President about how Oberlin has grown since 1981, including the largest PV array in Ohio (nobody knew what that was, but from context we surmised it had something to do with solar power -- yes, it means Photo Voltaic). After lunch, Beff went with her friend Joan (who married us) to see the Frank Lloyd Wright house in Oberlin while I napped and coughed. After more walking around, there was the "picnic" at a superstructure also known as the skating rink. Here the group sat together again, there were Mexican, American, and Italian buffets along with Labatts Blue (the closest thing any of us had to a real beer all weekend), and there I accumulated one more superfluous apostrophe. At night there was a talent show and karaoke thing that Beff went to while I went to bed. At 2 that morning I was forced to yell at people having a loud conversation just below our window, and given that I had nearly no voice, it was something to behold.

In the afternoon The Group had also spent a long time at the closest thing to a hangout that Oberlin has, called The Feve. The fries I ordered arrived an hour later, lukewarm, but at least the weather itself was quite warm. And I delighted at being The Spouse. Since I never had to participate or react to anything in the conversation.

On Sunday we repeated our walks of earlier, got coffee, went to the champagne lunch (two gulps of it was all you got), which was another mondo affair, under a tent, which also was an official meeting of the Alumni Society (as in, you others better join the group or we will speechify mercilessly). We exited before what was certain to be The Big Fundraising Pitch, and got back on the road. Again, it was a fairly uneventful drive, and sunny all the way. We made it as far as Batavia, where we stayed at a Quality Inn with wi-fi and ate at an Applebees -- what a combo, since our room keys included a 10% discount voucher at Applebees. I got the buffalo wings, duh.

Monday we left early, but late enough not to encounter severe thunderstorms happening about an hour and a half into our drive at the time we embarked (parse THAT one), and arrived home at about 2. I marveled at how high the grass was already (when you go on a trip you apparently presume that time stands still at your place of residence), and continued to marvel that Shaw's was open -- where I got some staples, and hamburger for grilling. HEY, it was Memorial Day, and it's THE RULE that you grill burgers on Memorial Day. It's also THE RULE that as the Fromm deadline approaches, more and more plaintive e-mails accumulate asking for letters. Which is what I did.

Yesterday, John Aylward and his sister Claire visited for exercise, and we got them out onto the Assabet in a canoe. I could tell by both of their forms that they had never done this before -- it was more like they were stirring the water so that sugar cubes would dissolve than trying to get the canoe to move. Indeed, I was able to saunter on the bike path at a greater clip than that of the canoe. But they eventually figured it out, John did excellent steering, and the canoe made a nice zigzag a ways down the Assabet and back. Lunch downtown was followed by Beff and I returning the rental car and walking home. And me checking my e-mail and getting more plaintive Fromm requests.

Today Beff has embarked toward Burlington for a day spent with her father. She back tomorrow. I also finished reading Dewek's dissertation, and he is just about ready to become Doctow Dewek. Meanwhile, I have to return to the piano quintet and make the sucker work. And (sigh) mow all of the lawns, as soon as the cloud cover burns off. And cough a bit. In the coming week, Mary Fukushima and Michael Kirkendoll (who call themselves, modestly, the Fukushima-Kirkendoll Duo) give a recital in Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, including my own travesty FIRECAT. This is on June 4. I know it's going to be good because both of them contacted me and said they were having "fun" -- in stark contrast to the "torment" that usually comes with people doing this piece. And since you're in town (I can't be), stay another day and hear Ross's cello concerto with Sequitur on the 5th, at Merkin Hall. It's going to blow all the other pieces away.

All the pictures today come from the Oberlin trip. Starting with Joan and each of us, at various times. Then there is part of The Group readying for the group photo, the context of the picnic, a tethered horse in the town green, my superfluous apostrophe, a blossom in the park, and the sign for the Men's Room that displays just how lefty Oberlin is.

JUNE 12. Breakfast this morning was rice sausage patties with 2% milk cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was extremely thin-crusted pizza and salad. Lunch was Hebrew National 97% fat free hot dogs. Hebrew National has not paid a promotional fee to be mentioned in this update. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 49.6 and 88.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "We'll Be Together Tonight" by Sting -- occasioned by a truck horn that was the same pitches as one of the thirds of the opening lick.. LARGE EXPENSES this last two weeks include parking in NYC $101 including tip, various dinners and lunches in NYC costing between $45 and $60, various stationery items at a hip store on 20th Street $33 (including two pocket-size music manuscript notebooks), Garmin 320c GPS thingie, $333 at amazon, 1 GB memory card for same at Staples $51, new cassette player for Beff's car $135 including installation, gas in Connecticut $41, books and videos at amazon $72, and various other stuff not precisely recalled. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My long-awaited dissertation defense at Princeton came in the middle of my Rome Prize year. After so many years of hitting brick walls with that thing, and all the time it took for the readers to get to it, the event itself was completely anticlimactic. A two-hour block was saved for the defense, which started at 5. Lee Blasius sat in, as Princeton defenses are public, and Paul Lansky (first reader), Scott Burnham (second reader), Steve Mackey, Peter Westergaaaaaaaaard, and Paul Koonce represented the faculty. The defense began with Peter W. huffing and puffing as he entered, announcing "this has to be done with by 6:15 because I have to leave then." Sweeeeeeet. I played the recording of my dissertation piece (Cerberus) and Paul Koonce went on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on about how things that occasionally sounded like jazz chords in the piece were "ironic perturbations". Later, I was asked to summarize the paper because no one besides the readers (hence the name) had read it. Later that night, I went out for beer with Cindy Gessele, since Beff couldn't spare the time to come to Princeton. And then I was a doctor. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are the online part of Garmin (whose "web update" software sits there 45 minutes saying "connecting to server" and hitting "Abort" is the only way, apparently, actually to connect to it) and SanDisk (card reader went verplunkt). COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are amazon (got the Garmin unit to us in record time) and Inko's Tea (found it at the Framingham Trader Joe's for $1.29, though BJ's and Shaw's don't have it any more). THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: how much wood could a groundhog grind if a woodchuck could grind ground? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: shulky. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF include pieces that repeat their opening gestures immediately and exactly, anything involving Ann Coulter or Dick Cheney, and Kathy Griffin's little dance on the promos for Queer Eye and My Life on the D List. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Santa Barbara pepperoncinis, Santa Barbara pitted cajun olives, red tomatoes, red seedless grapes, sugar free popsicles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the fun of Global Positioning Systems -- and how freakin' expensive the consumer units still are. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 3.4. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is none. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 0. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 19 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: festive hats for your cat. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Bartomeu Mcchesney. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Test dis. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,504. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.96 and $3.15. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a distant drum, fourteen things in a puddle, a fingerprint, intransigence.

Tomorrow is my birthday. Deal with it. According to my giftology this is the intersection of the year of the trampoline and the year of the pony.

Today marks, as far as I can tell, Day 23 of my just-can't-shake it summer cold. While I am, in general, far better, I still get the nighttime coughing fit, as I did this morning. Which leads, in the morning, to a voice that makes me seem like I should audition for the voiceover part on the Men's Wearhouse commercials. As I said today to Beff -- "everyone in the room is looking at the bride. And the bride is looking at you. Tux rentals from $50." Three coughs and an orange juice later, I was back to my usual sexy voice, saying things like "the coffee is ready to plunge" and "Cammy's outside."

We are just back from a weekend trip to New York City for Beff's performance on the ACA (American Composers Alliance, NOT Atlantic Center for the Arts) American Composers Festival, where we stayed with Hayes and did plenty of New York things during out down time -- and the most New Yorky thing of all is to spend too much money. Which we did with great glee. But let me step back in time just a bit.

Last week on an early morning day, we went to the Toyota dealership in Acton for a 7 am appointment, where we left it for an oil change and a "the cassette is stuck in the car player" diagnostic. While that was happening, we went to the usual breakfast and sandwich place nearby. The oil change happened, and the cassette was ejected, but no cassette of any kind would go back in. The dealer said that Toyota parts to replace it might run as high as $800 (of which I presume $750 is pure profit), so we made a trip of it. We drove to Best Buy in the Shopper's World area and got the ONLY car cassette player they carried. And while it was being installed, we drove to BJ's for some staples, and also to Trader Joe's, nearby -- the one that has beer and wine, unlike our local iteration. While near the car stuff, I strangely started lusting after a little handheld GPS thing. Not that I have any real need for it -- I was sucked in by the cool coefficient of having such a thing. So we examined what Best Buy had, which was deemed either too small ($150) or too expensive ($600). After going to Trader Joe's, we looked into the adacent Staples to see what GPS they had, and it was both too small and too expensive. Meanwhile, using my Red Skelton voice, I put an end to Beff's constant queries about what I wanted for my birthday by saying "I want a GPS thing. Good night, and God bless."

When we got home and installed the groceries in the correct places, I researched GPS stuff on the internet, and found that Magellan and Garmin were the two Big Players in that arena, and after lots of hemming and hawing, settled on the Garmin 320. I read that it took an SD card for the map data, so I also got a gig SD card from Staples (delivered for free!), and the unit itself arrived the day before we took off for New York. Warning, though, the software for loading maps only works in Windows, and we do have the Windows computer specifically for emergencies like this -- that, and for making CDs and DVDs, that is.

So the software was loaded, the Garmin unit connected to the USB port, and I was able to select, state-by-state, all of the east coast and Quebec and all of the midwest and south as far west as the Mississippi River and just beyond. Any more would not have fit on the card. Loading the maps was a 45-minute affair (preceded by a 20-minute configure-fest), and immediately -- in some rain -- I tested the unit. I had it direct me to the Air Field Cafe at the Minuteman Airport, which it did flawlessly, after taking a little while to lock onto the satellites. It also talked to me: in point three miles turn right. In four hun-dred feet turn right. Turn right. And I discovered that if you took your own route, it recalculated and said "recalculating" to you. For our drive to New York we punched in Hayes's address, and watched the fun ensue. Beff reconfigured the unit with the "British" voice, so we felt very sophistiphistiphistphistphisticatedcatedcated.

Meantime, we discovered that the Garmin wanted us to take 95 all the way to New York, and I preferred the Wilbur Cross to Merritt to Hutch, etc. And it kept trying to get us to exit the Parkways to get on 95. And finally it gave up and let us do what we wanted. The next day, when we had to drive to Nyack for Beff's rehearsal with Soooooooooooooooooooozie and Chris, it wanted us to take the GW Bridge and get on the Palisades Parkway, but we did 87 instead, just to spite it. On the way back, I decided to yield to its whim, and it gave us a very scenic route south of Nyack and got us on -- yes, the Palisades Parkway. Gotta admit, it was actually faster than the route I would have taken.

And meanwhile, in New York, Hayes was a very gracious host. For our first afternoon, Beff decided that we would do the Pierpont Morgan Library ($12 per adult), and we looked at a lot of nice stuff there -- including fair first copies of pieces by Brahms, Verdi, Puccini, etc., and old illuminated manuscript pages. Beff got me a real cool tie, and we walked back home, ate at a Mediterranean type restaurant, and went to bed. I was tired early, alas. On Nyack day we ate at a diner in town before Beff's rehearsal, and then got to see Chris (Oldfather)'s house -- very close to the Hudson, in fact. I knew my old friend from VCCA, Don Iannucci, had a place close by, but I could not get permission to leave the rehearsal to try and find him. Which is fine, since his house was a lot farther away than I thought it was. And uphill. That night Hayes and Beff and I did Chinese at this really good place around 24th and 9th.

The day of the gig was fairly eventless, save my having to bring the camcorder and tripod to the dress rehearsal, as we now have gotten into the habit of getting movies of our performances. Especially important in Beff's case, since the piece is for piano, voice, and projected video with sound. This was the one where I had to roll an orange down the dining room table, and Cammy came after it at one point, and that made it into the piece. After the dress, the four of us (Soooooooooooooozie, Chris, Beff, me) went to a diner nearby (the gig was at the Thalia Theater in Symphony Space). The gig itself was fine, though there was some music that I probably could have had a full life without ever having heard -- and one piece promised some nice tricky formal devices that had no payoff (for instance, a double fugue that simply stopped halfway through the first entrance of the second subject). Soooooooooooooozie wanted to go out during intermission, since Beff's piece was on the first half, and this performance marked the end of a particularly busy performing time for her. So Chris, Soooooooooooooooooozie, Chris's sister and I meandered into a French restaurant called Alouette and had beer called 1664. After the gig, Hayes and Geoffy and Beff joined us, and French desserts were the order of the day. And Geoffy got a, um, watermelon martini or something like that. Pink martinis just look funny.

Yesterday we drove back and it was amazing how deserted New York is at 8 am on a Sunday morning. It was a nice clear drive, and there was even sun! -- for apparently the first time in about 10 days in the Boston area. It was good to get back with our stuff and with the cats -- returning from a trip is always nice that way. And it even warmed up a bit for the first time in a while -- which is where I start to complain about the weather here. According to the Boston Globe, the jet stream has been stuck in a winterlike pattern here since early May, and the 18 inches of rain or so that's fallen in that time would have been 15 feet of snow in cold weather (a likely story -- in the winter the Gulf of Mexico wouldn't yield anywhere near as much moisture as it does in the spring -- I mean, totally duh). The pattern breaks late this week, they say, but meanwhile it's not been above 90 yet this year (the latest in recent memory). And right now it is 79 and it seems very balmy.

Beff did a mini-trip to Vermont in this last few weeks, where she picked up a used Peugot bike for her to use in Maine. We tried it out, and brought it to the bike shop in town just to be sure it was okay. And two really funny guys run the shop, gave us the bizness, and even adjusted my bike while it was there. And that inaugurated a few exercise bike rides -- to West Concord, Boon Lake, and West Acton for starters. Later today I take a bike ride, but not until Maynard Door and Window gets here to (finally) vent the bathroom fan.

Meanwhile -- Michael Lipsey sent more recordings of Snaggle movements (my hand drums piece), and I spent some time in iMovie getting more of my Bogliasco little movies online and into my webspace for the gentle reader's pleasure. So in that list of stuff above and to the left -- yellow is a movie, red is an mp3, green is a PDF, and sky blue is a web address. Framer's Intent is piece for frame drum, played, I believe, on the djembe, whereas Trampoline Man is a passacaglia for talking drum and tabla. As to the movies -- you probably need QuickTime 7 to view them. I don't make the rules. I merely enforce them. So the grounds of Villa Orbiana -- in which I had a bedroom, study, and veranda -- are represented, as is the inside of the villa. Glasses and bottles is the fellows getting silly with wine glasses and bottles. Villa Pini is the main building, where writers and scholars stay, and there are movies of the front of it, and walking into it from the street.

The only immediate things to note coming up are The Maids coming to clean tomorrow, Beff coming back from Maine (she went there today for a lesson, to fix the lawnmower, and who knows why else), and dinner with the Hylas for my birthday. It is not known how soon there will be enough stuff to report for the next update. So be patient, be patient.

Not many pictures this week. First there is the Garmin, suction-cupped to the windshield, as I departed for Trader Joe's this morning, Soooooooozie at dinner with her cell phone, Hayes and Geoff at the French restaurant, and Beff and Chris at dinner. So there. Chris got a mondo haircut!!!!!

JUNE 20. Breakfast this morning was Egg Beaters eggs with 2% cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was two Boca Burgers with cheese and a plate of Roma tomatoes. Lunch was a small salad and Buffalo wings. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 52.2 and 92.3. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "The Pleasure Seekers" by The System. LARGE EXPENSES this last two weeks include stuff at amazon, $33, stuff at CompUSA $52, stuff at BJ's, $43, and the 60,000 mile tuneup for the Corolla, $473. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When it became evident that we'd be staying at our place in Spencer -- on Thompson Pond -- for a number of years, we bit the bullet and bought ourselves the red canoe, which was on special at The Fair (a K-Mart type place that no longer exists). Our first try at canoeing was on Easter Sunday, we were completely clueless how to go about it, and on our first try -- stepping into it from a dock -- we fell in. Subsequent tries were quite successful. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are the online Apple Computer, who sent no fewer than four e-mails detailing every step of the process of sending me a simple video cable, and Whole Foods Market, which is next to the Framingham Trader Joe's, which I never went into before this week, and which has great sauce for dumplings AND Bubbies pickles. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: when did product names beginning with lowercase "i" supplant product names ending with an "x" as cool and hip? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sleen. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are the phrase "cut and run", little bugs that get in my face when I'm on the hammock, and ham. I made up the last one. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: cherries, no-cook gazpacho, Cajun pitted olives, Unsweet tea (on special at Shaw's), dumplings with special dumpling sauce. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK every salad dressing company now makes an "Asian ginger sesame" dressing. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 8. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are a mouse and a chipmunk. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 1. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 39 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: massive demonstrations against the olambic. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Davy Barrera. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: succinct. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,508. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.94. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE snake oil, garlic powder, a senior moment, seventeen bottles of hot sauce.

Came and went the birthday. Three separate, but equal, celebrations happened. There was dinner at the Quarterdeck with Lee and Kate on the date of the birthday itself, bowling plus wings plus beer with Ken and Hillary and Max, and lunch at the Stein with Carolyn (ka-ching!) and Big Mike (ka-ching!). Lee and Kate came bearing gifts, including the new Stravinsky gossipfest, and a framed print of Kate's. Already hanging in the hallway is Kate's print, but not yet read is the Stravinsky book (I'm trying out Yodaspeak today). It was a nice meal (I did the poached salmon) though the service was inexplicably slow, and there were discussions of Lee's impending move to Chicago. Wow.

On Saturday, while Beff was in Maine, the Trio Coolness came with their own gifts -- a little bowling figure that made its way into the kitchen window, and a little ducky that gets way bigger over the course of 72 hours when it is submerged in what I like to call "water". There was candlepin bowling preceded by trash talking, the bowling itself, which featured an inordinate number of gutterballs, and a strange occurrence near the end of our first string: Saturday night glow bowling started. A smoke machine (I'm guessing dry ice) spewed, the lights turned off in favor of neon colors on the pins, blacklights galore and disco balls started, and unusually bad pop music spewed. We were given yellow markers for keeping score, since they are viewable in blacklights, and we had to start writing a lot bigger. Strangely, our bowling got better with glow bowling, and, to the best of my knowledge, I cracked 100 in candlepins for the first time in years. It is also true that this was the first time I'd bowled in years. All of us had at least one spare, and Hillary saved hers for the very last frame. Bowlage was followed by the Neighborhood Pizzeria in town for wings, where the parking was strangely hard to find. While we did wings and pizza, we noted with glee that Neighborhood Pizzeria now serves beer in bottles, so the experience was close to complete. After our experience with near completeness, we came back to the house and did beer -- mostly Liberty Ale and Sea Dog blueberry wheat. And Ken and Hillary finally took the olives I gave them last April. And Max got some expensive paper.

Yesterday, the long-delayed birthday lunch with the Ka-Ching Twins happened, and of course I had wings. I got some Curious George hats and party favors at the Dollar Store and we brought them with us. The close to completely clueless person at the Stein greeted us with, "so, a table for dunces?" A cosmic question here could be -- are birthday hats really dunce hats? And does growing a year older necessarily make you stupid? And could there be a confederacy? But that's all light in the piazza. The Ka-Chings actually paid!

Meanwhile, the weather finally got summerlike, and in a big hurry. After yet another all-day rain -- the edge of Tropical Storm Alberto -- the pattern shifted and we got a Bermuda High in charge. Finally. Air conditioners have been essential, and my biking times have been quite early in the morning -- 7 on Monday, for instance, 7:15 on Sunday. The grass has been growing quite fast -- the mowing I did on my birthday already looks -- old. And there was a severe thunderstorm watch last night, but we got nothing.

When the hot began, I trotted out the old gazpacho recipe and made some. Which is good, very good. 'ceptin' Shaw's didn't have any green onions, so I had to substitute some chives. 'sokay.

Meanwhile, CF Peters informed me that they were taking a whole bunch of pieces that had been languishing, awaiting a meeting of the editorial committee, and that meant a whole day of producing scores and parts. Which became a crappy time for our 12-year-old printer to start screwing up. 11x17 printing was fine for the first 100 pages or so, but the last 10 or so pages involved no fewer than 70 pages getting stuck in accordion shapes inside, and I'm sure my neighbors could hear me uttering the upper-case letters on the keyboard, plus a few spirals and other abstract shapes. It got bad enough that I started looking for the next printer -- hey, the HP 4MV has lasted 12 years, and that's amazing -- but the next generation is going to cost us $2139. No matter who sells this printer, it goes for $2139. So perhaps before the end of the summer, when I am back on full pay...

I made several trips to Trader Joes in Framingham, and I've usually noticed that there is a Whole Foods across the little street from it. After viewing a story on 60 Minutes about Whole Foods, I decided to give it a look, and it's kind of neat. They have a few varieties of things that it's hard to find at the more plebian places -- for instance Bubbies Pickles -- and some nice Asian stuff that I haven't seen anywhere else (probably because I haven't looked). So it looks like TJ's and Whole Foods may become something of a 1-2 punch in the future. Whatever that means. Whole Foods had a special on hothouse tomatoes, but they didn't look so hot. Or so house, for that matter.

Another highlight of my birthday is that Maynard Door and Window finally came over to vent the fan that is in the bathroom. The electricians installed the fan and a long generic piece of venting tube (not unlike the tube coming out of the clothes dryer) emptying into the vastness of the attic, and we contracted MD&W actually to vent it, as in, to the outdoors. So they sent French Accent Guy and an assistant to do it, and they made a bunch of noise, drilled through the south-facing attic window, and left a vent on the outdoors that looks like a drive-in movie speaker. See photo below. So now our long national nightmare is over.

This morning quite early, Beff and I did the Boon Lake ride, which was as eventless as possible and the weather for it gorgeous. Until the turnaround point, where I made my usual sharp turn, got tricked by a bunch of gravel, and didn't quite make it around the turn. As in, my bike went sideways, and I caught myself on the pavement. To only a small scratch on my right shin and a slight bit of roughness on my right hand. Beff said she saw it all in a super-slo-mo, and I wondered how you make that happen in real life. The bike shifted from gear 35 (mod 7) to gear 25 (mod 7) during this process, and getting it back to my preferred gear was no small task.

Very little picture-taking happened this week, despite its eventfulness. My Lee & Kate pictures somehow didn't get copied to my computer, and no camera came with me to any of the other birthday events. So, lemme splain what we got here. The fatigue-color links to the left are little cat movies. The yellow ones are movies from Bogliasco, making their encore. The red links are mp3s of two of my solo hand drum pieces. And the blue links are links to web pages.

Meanwhile, the pictures. First is our scoresheet from bowling. See if you can tell where we were when the glow bowling started. Next is the iced coffee we had after the bike ride this morning, and the new vent for the bathroom fan (it's the little white thing on the window). And finally, the little chick as viewed on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday mornings.

JUNE 28. Breakfast this morning was rice link sausages with 2% cheese. Dinner last night was two chicken sandwiches that I grilled myself, and salad. Lunch was a spiced Julius Chicken sandwich from the South Street Market, eaten on a bench in front of Brandeis Admissions, with Carolyn "Ka-Ching" Davies and Beff. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 59.2 and 88.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Scatter" by me (#2 of Three Encores, about which BMI inquired...) LARGE EXPENSES this last two weeks include Finale upgrade $107 including shipping, percussion instruments from Musician's Friend $107 including shipping, various at K-Mart $117, bindings $14, "staples" at Shaws $117 after the 5% discount, gourmet stuff at Duck Soup, $52. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When it became evident that we'd be staying at our place in Spencer -- on Thompson Pond -- for a number of years, we bit the bullet and bought ourselves the red canoe, which was on special at The Fair (a K-Mart type place that no longer exists). Our first try at canoeing was on Easter Sunday, we were completely clueless how to go about it, and on our first try -- stepping into it from a dock -- we fell in. Subsequent tries were quite successful. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are Whole Foods Market (love that dumpling dipping sauce). THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: how soon before students submit their homework with "signing statements", grudgingly agreeing to do the work but complaining that the method is wrong? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: guliscia. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are quotes from "the blogosphere" -- both the left and the right -- and humidity. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: pitted Cajun olives, pepperoncinis, cherries. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the hammock -- well, a rediscovery, actually. I hadn't been on it for quite some time. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 7.5. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Compositions, Lexicon, Recordings, This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are at least one chipmunk and at least one mouse. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 2. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 23 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: massive demonstrations against the olambic. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Davy Barrera. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: succinct. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,517. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.99. Beff reports $2.76 in Vermont and $2.74 in Maine. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a festering piece of dung, a red rose for a blue lady, a fallen branch, sixteen eroded pebbles from the bottom of a stream.

Many clusters of events this last week, keeping us busy, off balance, and, frankly, beautiful. I made that last one up. Beff spent the weekend in Vermont and is on her way to Maine as I type this -- apparently for the sole purpose of picking up a repaired lawnmower (bent crankshaft, $120) -- and I spent plenty of time on the road just trying to find a printer that can bind an 11x17 score. But let me time travel a little bit here (which I now know is possible, though my salary is not high enough to purchase fuel for the trip).

Beff and I had decided to try and get together with friends we don't get to see that often before I make my pilgrimage to Yaddo. But only one of the three was available before then. David Sanford is out of town for a relative's wedding, and the Droolie family are entertaining the in-laws. The one possible meal was had with my colleague Palle Yourgrau, at Chang Sho in Cambridge. Chang Sho is one of our preferred places to go, especially since there is no good Chinese around here (Thai, Indian, Korean, definitely yes), and as usual the cold sesame noodles and hot and sour soup went down easily. The other things we got were nice, too. And Palle grew up listening intensely to classical music, and his knowledge of the music -- and which recordings are preferred -- is quite impressive. He teaches philosophy at Brandeis, and we exchanged "research" -- we gave him commercial CDs, he gave us a copy of his "general audience" book about Goedel and Einstein. So far, no indication that he has listened to the CDs, but I spent almost all of a rainy Friday reading the book and writing to him about it (my comment that "I have spent reading your book the amount of time it would take for you to listen to the CDs we gave you three and a half times" went unresponded). It was a little dense because the philosophy and physics are pretty complicated, but I think I got it. It turns out time doesn't exist.

There had been an ulterior motive to having dinner with Palle. He was recently given a named Chair at Brandeis, and on a rainy day when I was in Bogliasco, he gave the "xxxx Chair" lecture to celebrate his new position. What he didn't know, and what I just found out by virtue of him telling me, was that professors who get named or endowed chairs at Brandeis never gave public lectures before -- this was the first. I wanted to find out from him what it was customary to say at such an occasion, since I have to give that talk for the Naumburg Chair on September 24 (if memory serves...). As it turns out, what is customary is 100% exactly what he did (an intellectual autobiography). And I have to do it, too, and will probably start with how I like the awards that don't come with public speeches to give. I also found out that all the important mucky-mucks were there, and the event was catered, and the food was expensive. So I have something to which to look forward. Mine is in the Faculty Lounge, and will involve playing the performance movie of MARTLER. So there.

An interesting surprise at the restaurant was that one of this space's most loyal readers (Rebecca -- who usually retains her anonymity, but not this time) was at dinner at Chang Sho at the same time, along with Charlotte -- the "This Be The Song" duo from Theory 2 -- who had graduated from Brandeis last year, and took composition lessons with me during the nadir of the Chairman experience. So it was old home week. Rebecca now has a job that has "administrator" in the title, and I told her to make sure not to live up to WAFA in Davy's Lexicon. And, by the way, she sang a bunch o' Beffsongs in recital last month, and more than once. So there. Charlotte, meanwhile, lives in Minnesota.

Thursday's big event was Derek's dissertation defense, scheduled perfectly so that it could be followed immediately by Dinner Paid For By Someone Else. The entire composition faculty -- until July 1 when Yu-Hui is officially our colleague -- was there, and the outside reader was John Melby. Which made me the only unbearded one in the room. But I didn't complain. Or notice, for that matter. Derek's paper was a good one, and the composition rather good, too, so there wasn't much about which to argue. I asked a cosmic question about how Tigers talked about 12-tone pieces being "about the properties of the set, but the question didn't have legs. Nor did it know how to use them. As usual, the defense was a mere upbeat to the main event: dinner at a new place on Moody Street -- yet another Asian restaurant, this one Malaysian-Japanese, called Ponzu. Most of the dishes are fish dishes (say that five times fast), so I got chicken. Which was marvelous. Kung Pao Chicken always tastes better when someone else pays.

One night last week, Beff and I went onto the sun porch to relax and to watch the shadows from the candle make, um, shadows. I stretched out on the futon couch -- formerly in the sun porch in Bangor -- and noted a little bit of a smell of putridness. Which increased toward where my head went. We could find no specific thing causing the smell, so the next morning Beff got out the cleaning fluid and the paper towels and started scrubbing the walls and windows, presuming that the record rainfall (more about that later) was causing some mold to form on this part of the house that's been exposed to the elements. After 10 minutes or so of scrubbage, she noticed that a cat toy in with the cat toys wasn't actually a cat toy -- it was an actual dead mouse. Hence the increase in odor on the head end of the couch. I was charged with disposing of the mouse in the woods (such as they are), and we remarked that perhaps we should think about NOT leaving the screen in the living room open so that the cats could go in and out at will. A resolution whose inaction would eventually bite us in the butt. Nonetheless, the porch is now pretty clean, or at least the walls are. And the cow that Sooooozie gave us is still there, if rusted.

My stamina for our programmed bike rides has been increasing, and I have made it up to the second-longest one -- what we call the Other Gropius House ride. Soon I would hope we would do The Airport Ride, which is nearly 15 miles. That one has strenuity written all over it by virtue of the 2 big uphill stretches. But on the one non-juicy day of the last week, we did an even longer ride, which we have only done twice, ever. We strapped the bikes onto the back of the Camry, drove to downtown Ayer, used the port-a-potty at the head of the bike trail, and did an actual rail trail -- the Nashua River Rail Trail. Since it IS a rail trail, there are nearly no hills or significant curves, though there are a few nice views (Beff kept remarking "The Minuteman Trail has BETTER views"). We rode as far as downtown Pepperell, which is about 9 miles -- making the round trip 18 miles, and our butts felt it. Any new buttstix I may have gotten last week are apparently in for the long haul. Our reward for that long bike ride was a delicious dinner cooked by me. My Monday bikeride happened in the morning just as the rain had safely pulled to the west, but a downpour started just as I passed the post office on my way back. So I surprisingly showed up at Maynard Door and Window, gave Zoe the dog my usual bikeride Meaty Bone stash, and finished the trip. And was wet.

As to dinner -- for one of them last week I decided to do Polish fries with actual potatoes (not frozen already-diced ones), and cut myself in the left thumb -- enough to say "ow" fairly loudly and commence bleeding in lots of places where blood doesn't belong. And since the cut is at the tip of the thumb, there was no graceful way to band-aid it. Subsequent uses of my thumb have caused little bits of pain and more bleeding, most noticeably in the car while I was driving on Monday -- by the time I got home my left hand looked like a special effect.

During the weekend I decided to choose my annual addition to my little percussion instruments, and after e-mailing with Mindy Wagner, I settled on a caxixi, a talking drum, a pair of tunable bongos, and mounted castanets. With free shipping. It amuses me that to pronounce the first instrument you have to sound like you're singing the beginning of "Viderunt Omnes". I always love obscure references like that. And speaking of percussion, I have news from "Little" Mike Lipsey that he's in Asheville (I presume the one in North Carolina) recording the first CD (of two) of hand drum pieces, including the two in red on the left. I'll let you know when I know what he knows, which would not be a no-no. No noose is good noose is sauce for the nander. Stop me, somebody.

As beforementioned, Beff is on her way to Maine, and at her request I bopped over to Shaw's for a "sandwich and a refrigerated coffee-based drink" for the road (per la via, pour la rue -- this educational interlude was brought to you by the parentheses that enclose it). The sandwich part was easy. Refrigerated coffee drinks -- well, there are plenty of energy drinks available -- JOLT this and POW! that -- but none of them are coffee-based. What a weird window into our culture that is. She had to settle for a Starbucks frappuccino that had resided five minutes in the freezer.

Another bout of serious rain has been around the east coast, and for once New England didn't get the brunt of it. DC got socked pretty bad by a stalled weather front with tropical flow, shutting down even the IRS due to flooding. Up here we got consistent rain interrupted by occasional amazing wind-less downpours, and I took the opportunity to go to K-Mart to renew the stash of kitty treats -- which they sell for half of what Shaw's charges. While there I picked up the #1's of Destiny's Child (boy are you not ready for this jelly) and the Beach Boys 30 tracks called Endless Summer (boy do I feel old) and a whole MESS of DVD cases -- the skinny types that Beff prefers. I also got orange juice glasses, because I am that guy. The guy that gets orange juice glasses. I particularly enjoyed how, at checkout, the checker robotically gave me his required and ungrammatic programmed spiel: "will you put that on your Sears credit card today and save 30 dollars if you enroll now?" Meanwhile, the local tv stations have been letting us know that, "since record keeping began in 1872", this May and June have been the rainiest consecutive months ever. "The previous record was 1955, and that was with two hurricanes passing through". Take that and the IRS closing due to flooding and W's remark this week that global warming might not be real. Hee hee, funny.

Another big event of the weekend was cajoling my sick printer to print my piano concerto onto 11x17 pages, and on Friday it actually did 79 pages before it started making every page into an accordion-fold fan. So I turned it off. On Saturday I returned to the problem, and with much cajoling (Like Sylvia Cajoli on PBS, only not really), out came another 30 pages without significant problems. Given that I had to print 128, that made the last 10 pages into pretty much hit or miss -- mostly miss. I mused in an e-mail that when the new printer comes at the end of the summer, how will I make those fans? So on Saturday morning I braved the rain, put the originals in a garbage bag, brought a whole bunch of expensive 60-weight paper that I copped from Yehudi, and made two beautiful double-sided copies. Leaving the binding part of the operation to the business week.

Beff's big thing this week is making a demo recording of parts of her opera, using hired guns. I mean, performers. She's using Slosberg Hall, and last night was the rehearsal, tomorrow night the actual recording. We went into Brandeis to scope out the place and make sure she knew what was what, and what key opened what, and we timed it so that we could do lunch with Ms. Ka-Ching herself, Carolyn. And we did, Oscar, we did. Meanwhile, as Beff was on her way back, Mr. Ka-Ching, Big Mike, called to ask if we wanted to stargaze with his bigass telescope (I have ornamented the conversation). So around 10:15 he pulled into the driveway, and it was --- overcast. We hung out a bit on the now smell-free porch, and suddenly I spied stars. So Big Mike brought out the 'scope which turns out to be even larger than a bazooka -- I thought he was aiming to take out some houses or something -- and he talked about programming the computer on the inside, and ... overcast again. So we have, literally, taken a rain check. Boy, the last time we had guests later than 11:00 who weren't also staying overnight was -- um, never?

Much of Monday was also spent on binding. A printing press close by in West Concord seemed to advertise that they could do hard jobs -- like 11x17 score binding -- but when I entered and presented the problem, I got what I usually get. "What? 11x17? Oh, our machine is only 11 inches. I've never done that before. I don't know if we can." And only at Alpha Graphics -- just outside of the center of Concord -- does that continue with "...well, wait. Let me check the machine. (4-minute pause as he leaves the room and returns) I figured out how to do it. I'll use two bindings and turn the pages over." Ah, yes. I know that routine so well I can spout it in my sleep.

And this morning before our bike ride, we were standing in the master bedroom when Sunny came in carrying a big cat toy in his mouth. Which turned out to be a chipmunk. That was still alive. And (duh) bleeding. After some real excitement -- following the chipmunk under the fax machine, the stereo, onto the porch, and trying to let it know that the opened door was its freedom -- we finally got it outside. And the cats officially LOST their open-window privileges. What confused me was that when Sunny drops the chipmunk, instead of running straight away, it always jumps around in a circle, THEN tries to run away. Is this how the tango originated?

Beff is really, really, really ready to see The Devil Wears Prada. Hey, we were even excited that Maureen Dowd writes about it, albeit lukewarmly, in the NY Times today. We have the movie trailer on both our main computers and Beff has watched it several times (I got points for knowing that the assistant character had been The Princess Diaries person). We are resolved to see the Friday matinee, on the day it is released. What do I get out of it? Buffalo wings, of course. Big Ka-Ching Mike says he will go with us, once we know where it is playing. And meanwhile, on Saturday, which looks like the first non-juicy day in a while, we have plans for recreation (bikey and canoey stuff with both Ka-Ching Twins), and to that end, I got some cookout type food for that day. Nummies.

Actually, now that I think of it, Thursday was a pretty non-juicy day -- or I think it was Thursday. Beff had read in the Globe about a small family operation in Wellesley that makes small batches of pickles and relishes by hand, and local gourmet stores that sell their products, etcetera. So I accessed their webpage and found that "Duck Soup" on Boston Post Road in Wayland sold the garlic pickles, among other products. So we let the Garmin navigate us there, and we encountered a colonial styl little mallette with coffee shop, dress shop, sushi bar, etc., and we tried to calculate just how many times more than what we are making now we would have to make to live in that neighborhood, which is, by the way, gorgeous. Answer: slightly more than two. Meanwhile, I got the special pickles, which went for more than $9 per jar, as well as some grilling utensils, some other sauces, and a magnetized rubber pen. It turns out the pickles are pretty spectacular, the closest thing I've had to Smaks. Smaks are $1.79 for twice as many pickles, but that point is moot when the only place that sells them in the area goes out of bidness. I am thinking I will go back to Duck Soup for more of the pickles. So there.

And a Vanity Google giving unusual parameters turned up an interesting citation: in a psychology journal, a writer notes that he has a painting in his living room entitled "Self-Portrait As David Rakowski" by the painter Max Gimblett, and he wondered about what notion of self would allow this kind of painting, or something far more eloquent. I had been at Bellagio with Max Gimblett and hadn't known he had taken my name in vain on a painting, so I was surprised. It turns out the author was at Bellagio with me 'n' Beff for a few days before we left, so our memory was faulty. So now I have a really weird "citation" to report on my next Activities Report. Zonky.

The roster of movies and mp3s in the left column is as it was last week. I'm surprised not to have gotten any "that was really weird" e-mails about the Bastabasta movie, but you do need QuickTime 7 to watch it. Cammy has taken to a cute sleeping position just outside the computer room, which I captured from three angles. Then we see the cats' heads sticking out the window in the nostalgic times before they lost their window privileges. Then we see a cute night shot from last night of Ka-Ching Mike's telescope set up in the back yard and pointing at massed clouds (in this light it looks like the evil spawn of Darth Vader and C3PO). The last two pictures I discovered in the attic while trying (unsuccessfully) to find our Bellagio pictures -- they were both on our fridge in Spencer. First it's me in 1988 in Romsey, England (the people on the street have not assembled to see me hold a balloon -- they were watching a parade (not seen in photograph)), and then it's Beff and her mom (as Drip looks on) near Beff's apartment in Cambridge, circa 1986.

JULY 3. Breakfast this morning was rice link sausages with 2% cheese and Trader Joe's potato pancakes. Lunch today was Trader Joe's shrimp tempura. Dinner last night was stir fry chicken with spicy Szechuan sauce. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 68.2 and 87.6. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Angels from the Realms of Glory", but I have no idea why. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include a new lawnmower, $199 including tax. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I am thinking I was 8, or 9, or 10, or 11 when the family took a train from St. Albans to Springfield, Mass., where my father grew up and where his father still lived. We stayed at my grandfather's house -- which of course had that OLD PEOPLE smell -- and my sister and I had the bedroom in the attic. My grandfather had emigrated from Warsaw in 1918 after (I was told) killing someone in an argument in a poker game (I usually bring this story out when I am asked to play poker and don't want to). His English was rudimentary at best. I remember looking all around the BIG CITY of Springfield for esoteric cool Hot Wheels accessories that we couldn't find in St. A or Burlington, especially some sort of revving thing that had two rubber wheels spinning inside that accelerated your car out the other side. Very high tech. I wanted to send some postcards to friends, and explained to my grandfather what it was I wanted. Later in the day he gave me -- a birthday card. We had to say thanks politely, but we cracked up over what it said on the inside: "Hip hip hooray/Oh happy day/It's time for celebrations./A special rhyme/That says it's time/To say CONGRATULATIONS". ANOTHER POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE I used to make ends meet when I was an undergrad by doing work-study security. Basically I sat at a chair in front of the elevators of the dorm and kept strangers from coming into it. One evening, the PR types decided to install a Coming Events little bulletin board right in back of where I sat. Bad, bad idea. Occasionally we would pry it open and rearrange all of the letters. I remember one coming events that eventually read: MONDAY FEATS OF LUNATICS NO WALLS. WEDNESDAY ARFO LIMERICK EAR BLIMPS. --- you do what you can with the available letters. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Briggs and Stratton. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is Musician's Friend. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: if it's only the female mosquito that bites for blood, what do male mosquitoes eat? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: flieskia. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are the smell of freshly cut grass and insincere people who take themselves too seriously. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: shishkebab items, the usual complement of olives, Root Cellar pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK lots of ailunthuses for the pullin'. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 3. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Compositions, This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is nothing, except maybe a little strees on a screen by Cammy. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 1. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 33 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: orchestra pieces that don't go BOOM. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: severally asubject. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Gospel namedlest curious. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,521. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.97. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE cotton briefs, a textured argument, heated tweezers, a pile of glacial rocks rearranged to spell "SPURMF".

Last week's update was such a hit that part of it is being replayed, in a different color, below this week's update. At least one of the Ka-Chings noticed that I had failed to update my pointless nostalgic reminiscence, and to that end, I have related two of them this week.

This has also been a shortened week not exactly devoid of activity, but certainly devoid of a lot of meaningful activity worth reading about, so there is not much to report. And there certainly are not a lot of new and interesting pictures (as you will see, dear reader). The main reason for posting today is that I want to enjoy the 4th devoid of posting activity, and that I go to Yaddo on the 5th, early in the morning. So here is the customary caveat:

Don't expect another update until after my seventeenth wedding anniversary. Which is August 11, and we are expecting a LOT of gifts. I mean, you know, truckloads. That is the day I return. For those of you playing along at home, Beff will be getting back from Vermont, where she does the Vermont Youth Orchestra Camp, shortly thereafter, and on the 14th she does jury duty.

So it has been another lazy week (I am calling the five days a "week" because it has fewer letters AND syllables than "five days", not to mention, no spaces) devoid of useful activity, but certainly not devoid of fun activity. The funnest of all was half a day with the Ka-Ching twins here in Maynard, and also in Stow, on a day with much to report. And that day was Saturday.

So on Saturday Beff and I decided to do the "Firefighters Academy" bike ride, which essentially becomes a big circle around the wildlife preserve, brushes by Boon Lake, passes us by a Maynard water supply, and brings us on a long stretch of the Assabet railroad. Almost exactly halfway through the trip --- meaning at the point most distant from home --- we apparently went over some glass, and I got a flat on my rear tire. This was exciting for us, because it meant Beff had to truck on home, get the car and the bike rack, and figure out how to get to where I was going to be by the time she got to where I was going to be. So I watched Beff ride professionally into the distance while I walked my bike maybe a mile and a half -- all the while hearing the subtle scree-ock scree-ock scree-ock of the flat tire rubbing against the frame. When I got to the Assabet Bridge on what we now know to be Boon Road, I kickstanded the bike, watered some weeds, and sat for maybe 15 or 20 minutes. And Beff saved the day -- the most important part being saving me from making more small talk with the recreational crowd already in the area. We brought the bike to Ray & Son's for a repair, and they directed us to pick it up at 4.

So the Ka-Chings were slated to arrive at "2ish", meaning in Big Mike's case 2:25 and Carolyn's case 2:50. And after Carolyn moved the hammock into a more fetal position with respect to the position of the Adirondack chairs, we up and packed the canoe onto the Corolla, drove to the river, and got Carolyn and Big Mike off into the water. Big Mike was in front, Carolyn was in back, steering. Beff and I followed them along the river snapping photos until the river veered away from the path (and we got tired of slapping at mosquitoes), and we walked back and waited for them to return. And waited. And waited. Turns out they went a long way (Carolyn said they went far because of the motoring power of "Hercules" in the front), and I had to get to Ray's to get my bike back. So through a complicated set of exchanges, etc., I got to Ray's, Beff drove back, I came back in the CAMRY, and we took two cars back. And that was just the beginning of all the fun.

For you see, we had all this food. I started off barbecuing some marinated eggplant and invited them to come out in 8 minutes to view the big fire of dripping olive oil on the grill. When they did come out, they witnessed me unscrewing the propane tank from the assembly -- as it had run out. So I was very lucky that Carolyn agreed to come along for the ride to refill the propane. BECAUSE Ace Hardware was closed, and that's where I always refill ($12). On the way back, I started formulating Plan B, which included using other small grills around the house never used, and as we passed Cumberland Farms, Carolyn mentioned that there was a cage marked "Blue Rhino" that sure reminded her of propane tank cages from her experience. I said, pshaw, that's spring water, and in Massachusetts I've never seen propane tank cages. As I turned the corner after the store, something clicked. I made the full circle, pulled into Cumberland farms, and Carolyn was right. I traded the tank for a full one ($19.99), and we were -- literally -- cooking with gas. In the sense that propane is a gas. So I finished the eggplants, made some shishkebabs of lots of vegetables and a little meat, and finally did hot dogs and hamburgers. All the while while we were eating antipasto this and antipasto that (we felt very negative) and drinking lemonade this and beer that. When all was said and done, all had been said and done.

On Friday, however, the day BEFORE this masterpiece of a day, Beff and I went with Big Mike first for the Buffalo wings at the Horseshoe Pub in Hudson (it was a preprogrammed event, but they had other things -- something with a pun on "Havarti", maybe the "Havarti Told You" sandwich) and then we went in Big Mike's Big Mikemobile to the Solomon Pond Mall for the 1:50 showing of The Devil Wears Prada. All in all, a very conventional movie (typical who are your real friends/backstabbing/redemption fare) with a few memorable things in it. There was a song played during the opening montage that Beff liked, but we forgot what it might be called, and nothing on the soundtrack as available on iTunes seemed to be what she wanted. And we were the very last people out of the theater, since we actually waited for the song credits.

The only other tremondous activity worth reporting is that we returned yesterday to the Minuteman Trail. Actually, I think the official name would be the Battle Road Trail of Minuteman National Park, which is a sometimes crushed gravel, sometimes sandy thing that goes through an immense number of different scenery scenarios, and which was longer than I had remembered. I would guess about 8 miles in each direction, and given the number of hills and the humidity, we lost a lot of liquid that day. Which was replenished later very nicely, thank you.

I have not supplied pictures (for something must be left to the reader's imagination), but I am happy to report that the little percussion instruments that I ordered from Musician's Friend arrived, and they were fun to play, and play on. Most will occupy my office, when I next actually have one. Talking drum is harder than it looks, and bongos are both easier and harder than they seem. They came with a tuning key!

This morning Christy came to pick up her stuff because she got a studio! (See her website, lower left) But it turned out she was short by one key in order to take the whole bunch o' hardware. So she got out what she could into her vehicle and will come back for it later. Meanwhile, the air got drier today so I started mowing the sticky (full of sticks) yards, and 4 minutes into my mowing, the lawnmower up and quit. The sound it makes is of a piece of engine broken off in the engine. So Beff and I hopped right into the car, drove to Ace Hardware, and got a new one, just like that. I don't know if you're supposed to be impressed by the progress of lawnmower technology, but this one is much like the old one, and feels significantly lighter, meaning an easier mow. One sacrifice: you can't adjust the height of the cut. One height fits all. So after I got all that mowing done, we walked downtown and got very hot. Thermally hot, silly.

What's on the left is mostly old. What IS new is a movie made by Beff of the Ka-Ching Twins landing their canoe. Everything else is as it was before. Pictures are the Ka-Chings setting off with me trying to appear thin, Big Mike helping get the canoe onto the car, the Ka-Chings in full swing, and the pictures I took as filler on our walk today: the same stupid sign we've seen for 5 years on our walks into town, a sign with redundancy, the Sit'N'Bull's sign, a wrapper on the sidewalk, and our house hidden amongst the maples. See below pictures for greatest hits of last week's update.

AUGUST 11. Breakfast this morning was rice link sausages with 2% cheese and coffee. Lunch was Trader Joe's hot and sour soup with Mongolian Fire Oil and white pepper added. Dinner last night was chicken sandwiches and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST SIX WEEKS: 54.7 and 96.6. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Little Pony" by the Pointer Sisters. LARGE EXPENSES this last six week include a coffee maker (given to Yaddo), $33, an AC-powered FM antenna from Radio Shack $25, poetry by Chris Forhan and Sarah Manguso on amazon, $38, and cigarettes for Julian, $31 (reimbursed). POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My first time at Yaddo I turned 33, and Beff came to visit (we have photographic evidence) and Alvin Singleton and Tania Leon were among the partiers. Our little party was in the screened-in porch in the second floor of the mansion. I had gone there with the purpose of writing an orchestra piece in 30 days for Marty Boykan's 60th birthday -- the gags behind this being that it would be precisely 60 pages, and that it would be something of a quodlibet on passages from his music. Before I got to work on that, Tom Chandler said he had a text for a (fake) state song for Rhode Island, and that we should write it together. I wrote and copied it in about an hour, and it became the theme of our residency. In any case, just as I finished page 60 of the score, I got a call from Bellagio saying I'd been accepted off the waiting list, and Beff schemed to get us tickets -- including fake student IDs so we could get a discount. It was at Yaddo in this residency that I started writing fast and getting the "he's so productive and doesn't miss a deadline" reputation that I like to cultivate. Because, you see, I am cultivated. By the way, that orchestra piece's premiere is this coming January 20 -- about 4 months before Marty's 76th birthday. And it is being recorded. Cool. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Hannaford (poor selection of tomatoes, some of them moldy). COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is obviously Yaddo, but also Inko's. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: if we land on the sun at night, will it still be hot? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: suroge. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are Joe Lieberman, 5:00, the fan on my Powerbook coming on while it's in my lap, carrot sticks, examining my legs for ticks, the British voice on the Garmin Roadster, and small plastic cups. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Bubbies pickles, hot sauces of various stripes, Santa Barbara olives, Santa Barbara pepperoncini. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the details of Stravinsky's life and what a self-obsessed sumbitch he really was. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 18 (this week, as many, we go outside the box). REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Compositions, This page, Home. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is none, though Derek has discovered where Sunny is when we can't find him -- in a personal crawl space he seems to have created in the couch. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST SIX WEEKS: 7. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 60 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Yaddo for everybody. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: laugheth, elegant. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Allsuch. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,650. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.06. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE any small toy animal nicknamed "Fred", a box of toothpicks with 3 missing, a propane tank smeared with grease, sixteen old gum wrappers.

For those of you playing along at home and reading the above, it's been six weeks since I posted. And the internet suffered no serious damage while I was gone. Today is different from all other days because it is the only day that will be my 17th wedding anniversary. Note that this is one wife, 17 years, not 17 marriages. And what a wife that is. A gwamowous wife, as Sheila E. would put it. As I type this, the gwamowous wife is still in Vermont, instructing high schoolers in the Vermont Yoot' Orchestra. She will be back Sunday night and immediately prepare for jury doody -- and she has to report to some God-forsaken location in Cambridge. Regular readers will recall that I did jury doody about 14 months ago, but in the Framingham courthouse, very easy to get to, and I was a jury foreman. Not guilty of passing counterfeit money (no evidence). So since Beff is in Burlington until Sunday, that means the hammock is mine, all mine, all mine, all mine. More fun to type than it is to say.

I spent the last five and a half weeks at Yaddo, in Saratoga Springs, being embarrassingly productive. So embarrassingly productive, in fact, that I skipped town a day early, and left my bongoes behind. My original intent for the summer was to work on a very difficult ensemble -- fl/picc and two pianos -- in June and write a piano quintet at Yaddo. Instead, I spent June with a beer bottle soldered to my left hand, and I hoped for the quintet there and a start on the other piece. It turned out that I wrote both pieces with four days to spare. So on a suggestion from Michael Kirkendoll, I wrote a 73rd piano etude (the fortissimo etude) and STILL had a day to spare. Saratoga Springs is in the middle of tourist and racing season, and it's not such an interesting town that I could spend a day in it. So I packed up and left yesterday instead of today. And Maynard's cultural life is the richer for it. So is Yaddo's, as it turns out.

Before I disquisite on anything that happened at Yaddo, let me disquisite on things that happened away from Yaddo, while I was away from it, while I was at Yaddo. It turns out that of my 38 day residency, I was away from Yaddo 4 days -- for those doing the math, that means I did the two substantial pieces in 31 "working" days (at Yaddo there are no Shopping Days). All the more impressive, since that's about 75 "working" days of work I got done in those 31 Yaddo "working" days. Ooh, the scare quotes are scaring me (which means they're doin' the" job"). That puts the Yaddo "working enhancement" coefficient at just over 2.4. So here are the stories of the non-working days: one day I came home to call Sunny, who had gone missing (more in a lower paragraph); one day I drove to Lake Carmi for early morning beer with Lieutenant Colonel Colburn; one day I drove back specifically to mow the lawns and retrieve mail; and one day I came back to pick up a prescription and spend some time with the gwamowous wife. The latter three are pretty dull to describe.

But the first involves Beff coming back from a weekend spent in Maine and Vermont (she's been doing a lot of that), arriving Monday night to discover that the screen porch door had been blown open in a storm and the cats were not inside. Cammy came in that night, but Sunny did not, and at first there seemed to be no cause for alarm. But on Tuesday, she called and reported that Sunny was still not to be found, and we negotiated a trip for me to do some calling of him -- since the cats are more accustomed to my voice, it would seem. I did the three-hour drive, and we had some soup or something for lunch, and we scoured the neighborhood looking in every possible place, to no avail. Eventually, I made a color-laser flyer that we tacked to local telephone poles in between spritzes of thunderstorms. We did dinner at Not Your Average Joe's in Acton (it was pretty average), and Beff wanted to call it the "Sunny Memorial Dinner". Embarrassingly, Laurie called while we were at search, and we had to say we couldn't see her and Sam and Georgia for kitty reasons. So I went back to Yaddo, announced that my cat was dead (Chris didn't believe it), and had some wine. Beff, meanwhile, kept looking, and she was to leave Maynard for three weeks beginning Friday morning, so there wasn't much time. Then voila, on Thursday afternoon, Sunny simply walked in. Apparently he smelled funny because Cammy attacked him, and they fought for days. But we are back at full cat strength, after having resigned ourselves to fifty percent. Beff took the cats with her to Bangor for the time she spent doing the U of Maine summer music camp thing.

Which made the house empty for three weeks, hence my trip to mow the lawn and get the mail. Alas, the whole cadre of housesitters I had cultivated got jobs. Time to cultivate the next generation. I am using "cultivate" a lot today.

Regular readers -- or irregular ones, as it turns out -- know that my Yaddo residency was my fourth this year and my 22nd of all time. So I can put it in a little perspective. My usual practice of trying to avoid getting close to people, and especially the thief-in-the-night exit because I hate goodbyes was practiced to the extent I could. But at MacDowell and Bogliasco, somehow that was not the case (especially Bogliasco, since the group was so small and the food so marvelous). At Yaddo, though, I got the list of Fellows in residence and knew at least half of them already -- notable among them Marilyn Chin, Nicky Dawidoff, Tom Cipullo and Mark Winegardner. So it was already old home week, and bits of wackiness ensued. One thing that always happens is that I don't get the know the people who arrive in the last week of my residency, because hey, what's the point? Though I must say, there were plenty of Fellows I hung out with that I did like a lot -- are you there Gina and Julian and Beena and Maggie and Andrew and Sarah and Amanda and Judah and Tarik? And Nina?

One phenomenon was interesting, and that was that of presentations. There have been times at MacDowell and Yaddo that so many people were eager to present their work that solid blocks of double and triple headers lined up for ten days at a time. Now I love going to presentations, though I studiously avoid saying anything about the work (so as to studiously avoid saying anything dumb about the work). This, however, was a non-presenting crowd, by and large. Bill Coble and Chris Forhan did a composer-poet evening when I got there, and Nina showed all of her films, and there were a couple of open studios by painters, but that was about it. I admit I asked Chris to give another reading because I liked the poetry the first time around (and possibly because I like all the free alcohol that flows at these events). Even more better were a few dance parties -- one in West House, one in my studio, one in Gina's studio. I dressed up for the first one (Amanda, in her wisdom, insisted on it), and made it almost to the bitter end of the Gina party (I might add here that Jodi's dance mix was killa).

And another phenomenon of a residency, and in particular this residency, is that of the perceived passage of time. I am astonished at how much work I got done (yes, 27 minutes of music in all, which is almost a minute per "working" day -- gotta love those slow tempos, and hate those scare quotes) given that it seems like the time flew right by. On the other hand, my memories, say, of hanging out with Nicky and discussing the Red Sox and what a big mistake they made not getting someone at the trading deadline, etc. -- all seemed like it happened impossibly long ago. Indeed, everyone who left before I did seems to have left years before I did. Tom Cipullo left a year ago, the impossibly thin Joyce and Jean left two years ago, Nicky left at least a year ago, Nina left a year and a half ago, and Mark Winegardner -- who finished his book within hours of the deadline and left on August 1 -- left about eight months ago. Whereas Judah -- who got there a day or two after I did -- is still a newbie.

And speaking of passages of time, there is the issue of the working day. I usually got to my studio at about 7 -- note to Yaddo, 8 may be too early for some people for breakfast, but it's too late for me -- and made my own coffee (I bought a coffee maker at Target and left it to Yaddo) and had orange juice (chilled in the fridge I brought in from Brandeis that I had bought for my Chairman year and was not being used and which I also left to Yaddo). I had the Stone Tower for the first time, and that involved a walk through the woods and a constant reminder through Yaddo publications about ticks (there were also tick removal kits available for those that wanted them) -- and the wearing of a screen hat because those deer flies really like my head. Sometimes I left for work before the lunches were put out, so I would have to go back and get mine at some point. I worked straight through until about 5 or 5:15, then took my computer with me to do wi-fi in the library. I joined the pre-dinner crowd on the back veranda, did dinner at 6:30 and did the post-dinner crowd on the veranda. Not once did I go back to the studio to work after dark. So I calculate about 9 hours of work per day, or given the coefficient, about 22 hours of "real" work per day. And one day I entered to find a mouse turd on my manuscript paper, but that is a story for another day. Actually, for no day whatsoever.

And so there you have it. The only bummage of the whole time was that I provided a kickin' stereo for Gina's dance party, but it turns out my speakers handle up to 100 watts, and the amplifier is a 125 watt amplifier. One of the woofers, therefore, blew, and the more sensitive ears asked me why the sound was tinny.

So here are my new titles: the piano quintet, 14 minutes and 3 movements, is Disparate Measures; the trio, 10 minutes and in one movement, slow-fast-slow, is Gli Uccelli di Bogliasco; and the fortissimo piano etude is Heavy Hitter. Birds actually came into the two big pieces. After seeing lots of taking off and landing of a great blue heron just outside my studio, I wrote flapping-type gestures into the piano quintet and called the first movement "Flight". Lame, I know. And the bird songs I transcribed from those Bogliasco mornings became important material in the trio, hence the title. I'm afraid that, as an American, I can't actually pronounce correctly the first word of the title (the "gli" is said like a "yuh-lee" except quite fast, and I sound stupid when I try), but you go with what you know. And in my case, that's not very much.

The only other cute bit of information to impart is that Lisa Nonken was there, and she is no relation to Marilyn Nonken. However, Gina went to high school with Marilyn Nonken. In Milwaukee. So by doing nothing, Marilyn was everywhere.

And one other cute bit of information -- during the hot "middle period" of my residency, a few parties happened in the drinks room or the screened in porch late at night, and many bats were in evidence. Gina became known as the batcatcher because she caught one in the third floor bathroom. Meanwhile, I caught two -- but only got one outside successfully -- the other wriggled out in order to be caught shortly by Gina. And favorite resident? I'm sure everyone who was there with her agrees on Beena. I can even forgive the smelly citronella insect cream whose smell lingered on me for two days.

Weatherwise, it was typically summery, and perhaps more humid than usual. Being out in the middle of the woods, I was more cognizant of the humidity and temperature than normally, since when it was humid all my manuscript paper got moist -- indeed, when I printed, the paper steamed (my pictures of that kinda suck). There were three or four days when it was SO hot outside that I couldn't work later than about 2 in the afternoon, so I drove to the Wilton Mall or Target just to be in air conditioning (yes, I am a willful contributor to global warming this way, so deal with it). There were even two days with a weather warning I haven't encountered before: Excessive Heat Warning. Yes, it was hot, but not as hot at the beginning of July 2002 (I remember because I was writing Strident and I thought it was cool that the weather turned into New Orleans for me), and yes I went to the mall those days. Today it is quite dry and almost cool -- I am wearing a long-sleeve shirt over my t-shirt.

Easily the event of the whole residency involved Skidmore College. Skidmore is not only Amy D's alma mater, it holds a yearly Writer's Workshop in the summer, and all manner of famosity in writing are in evidence. Somehow the writers knew who was doing what when -- and alas my plan to hear Louise Gluck read was thwarted by Sunny -- and they did not alert me to Rick Moody's reading. I did the next best thing, and went the next night, to hear Amy Hempel and a guy whose name I don't recall (Alan Gurganis?), which is okay, since his story started great, and ended five times. FIVE TIMES. And I saw writers I know from other colony residencies who have become big time in the intervening years, namely Honor Moore, April Bernard and Henri Cole, for starters. And of course, Rick Moody, who was wearing a red athletic shirt with white stripes whenever I saw him. At the end of his time there, he brought his band The Wingdale Community Singers to to a gig in the "SPA" (cafeteria)), and a group of nearly a dozen Yaddites were in evidence. Including me. It turned out to be a very nice gig, and the three of them that sang and played blended well and sang in tune. Very rare, indeed. I caught Rick using some bar chords on his guitar, but I didn't call him on it. And all the photos I took of the event were on Rick's camera. Interesting, indeed.

Meanwhile, I was glad to return to Maynard and cook for myself, such as it is. The quality of Yaddo meals is a little lower than three years ago, though I have to say breakfast is unchanged, and Sally is still the only reason to go to breakfast at all (she now occasionally wears a "Law and Order" baseball cap). Over here, the lawns are a few days from needing mowing, the hammock is quite inviting indeed, and the cats follow me wherever I go. Yesterday I went to Whole Foods and Trader Joe's to replenish the fridge, and I believe I will have TJ's salmon burgers for dinner tonight. Yes. Yes.

This is tax free weekend in Massachusetts, and I have already planned my early Saturday morning: drive to Staples, get the HP 5200TN printer to replace my ailing 12-year-old 4MV, and that will cost me $2109.88, because I have a Staples rewards coupon and there is no tax. I am not doing it online, because I don't trust the sucker not to charge me the tax. And when that printer arrives, I will have to go into full production mode, which will also involve a trip to Alphagraphics in Concord, twice, because the scores are oversize. I also will take my nice paper I got from Yehudi into Brandeis to make the scores themselves. Beff will be back, and we will resume our daily bike rides. And I will finally do my syllabi for the year -- 3-part species counterpoint was such an abject failure the last time I taught 2nd year theory that I'm replacing that unit this time with a chorale harmonization unit. Uh oh.

All the links on the left are unchanged from the last posting. The yellow ones are little movies from my Bogliasco time, the blue ones are websites, the red ones are links to studio performances of my hand drums pieces, the "Birdsongs" is the Bogliasco birdsongs I transcribed, and the greenish-yellow ones are silly cat movies. The many, many pictures below are from Yaddo, as follows: my studio, the mossy carpet on the bridge into my studio, a mushroom, and lots and lots of nice peoples.

Brief news flash. I have won the 2006 Barlow Prize. That's a $15,000 commission to write a piece at least 15 minutes long for a consortium of 5 wind ensembles. More when details are available.

AUGUST 19. Breakfast this morning was Trader Joe's potato pancakes, rice link sausages, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner was swordfish puttanesca, roasted vegetables, and salad. Lunch was Campbell's Chunky Chicken Soup. Campbells and Trader Joes have not paid a fee to be mentioned in this space. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 47.8 and 84.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Makes Me Want to Pray" by Christina Aguilera. LARGE EXPENSES this last six week include an HP 5200tn printer, $2139.88 tax-free and delivered, a pair of PSB Alpha "B" speakers, $245 tax free, movies and CDs at Strawberries, $58, tax-full. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Two summers ago, during which the long but not slow descent into Chairhood was happening, I had two ten-minute pieces to write, and we had just gotten our new cats -- who were very small kittens at the time. During July and August, a daily ritual happened between 2 and 3 in the afternoon. As I sat at the piano writing, Cammy climbed up the back of my shirt and perched on my shoulder. I carried him into the living room, sat on the couch, put him in my lap, and petted him. After 5 to 10 minutes, he would be close to sleeping, would move off me onto the couch, and sleep. And I could resume composing. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Staples, but not really. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is Staples, and the contradiction will be explained below. Also Maynard Door and Window. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY:are we "safer" than we were five years ago? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: fornation. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are waiting around, pine pitch, and pictures of W wearing safety glasses at yet another photo op. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are actually -- none. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK printer heft. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: pi. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is a vitamin pill, plus some grapes swiped onto the kitchen floor. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 0. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 25 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Blacklight specials at K-Mart for people wearing white socks. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: very special. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: MASTER. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,652. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.04 and $2.96. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE vapor lock, a piece of very, very moldy cheese, the word that gets stuck on the tip of your tongue, bread pudding.

For those of you late-readers of last week's update -- the very end changed twice -- you know I have returned from a few days in Burlington, Vermont, where I went for Beth's father's funeral. Most of the details should remain private, and will, but I have no problem revealing things that embarrass me. For the record, he died Sunday afternoon, the service was Thursday morning, and there was a viewing at the cemetery Thursday afternoon. During that time, there was a whole lot of waiting around. And eating out.

I stayed in Massachusetts so as to attend Jeremy Sagala's dissertation defense on Tuesday, notable because I was able to give Lee Hyla -- the outside reader -- a $10 jar of pickles. Also notable because Yu-Hui showed up and it became her first official faculty act. The drive was nearly eventless (save a car that tried to pass a car I was already passing -- rear view mirrors don't show you everything, people!), thus giving my car horn its agogic accent for the year. All five siblings were there eventually, as was a sister (aunt) from the midwest. My best moment was introducing myself to a pallbearer as "Beth's wife". The service was in the Catholic church attached to the Catholic school Beff attended grades 1-8, and Catholic services just seem weird to those of us brought up Protestant. The music was played on a Klavinova and the Klavinovist also sang. I rued having trained ears during the musical portions, as said Klavinovist used willy-nilly inversions of chords as if playing bar chords or reading from a lead sheet -- and thus the shapes of the bass lines were not elegant. During the down time at home, the same old sibling relationships played out as I have always seen them.

Before all of this was last weekend, tax-free weekend in Massachusetts. On Saturday, I had my day entirely planned out. Well, actually, I had the first 15 minutes of it planned out. I drove to Staples and timed it to get there just when they opened at 9 -- I was 5 minutes early and was not the first one there. Another woman in line related that she was there to get a computer, tax-free. I think it would have been a waste to buy pens and pencils that day. I motored to the store "kiosk" since I knew they weren't going to have a bigass printer such as I was buying in stock, confidently recited the model number, and got a receipt to take to the register -- which promptly charged me $107 tax. Said kiosk guy, "the no tax was supposed to be programmed automatically", and he had to do a manual override. Ah, technology. This is why I did not order it online -- in fact, the order as it appears on line shows an amount that includes the tax. Then I drove down Route 2A to Littleton, where New England Home Theater was listed as a dealer of PSB speakers -- the brand of speaker I had that blew at Yaddo. But they were not open. So I drove to K-Mart in Acton, got cat treats, and then drove back to Litteton, where I got another pair of speakers of similar size to the ones I had (Alpha "B"), and left the blown one there to be repaired.

Then my Saturday was, essentially, done, except for the scheming of what other big ticket items we could get and save tax on. Beff turned down the oppotunity to get another Power Book (now the Mac Book Pro, I guess), citing issues of compatibility. So I installed Finale 2007 -- the sexy new feature being parts linked to the score -- and experimented a while. I generated parts for "Disparate Measures" and did the customary adjustments -- shortening and lengthening crescendoes, moving dynamics, fixing slopes of slurs, adding bits of text -- all of which were reflected on the score, which, because its spacing was different, now commenced to look -- crapful. I put the text "Violin I" on the Violin I part, which then showed up on ALL the parts AND on the score. So this linked parts thing -- quite obviously has to go back to the drawing board. MakeMusic, alas, released a product on time rather than one that was useful. Seems like Finale 2007a or 2007b should modify that feature to make it actually useful. So later I generated the parts as separate, unlinked, files, and adjusted them, etc. And should have done a little more proofreading before I did that.

Meanwhile, the Staples webpage listed the anticipated date of delivery for the printer as August 22 -- the original receipt said between August 16 and 22. While I was in Vermont crusing on the neighbor's wi-fi, I looked up the order, and found out that the printer had been delivered at 4:30 Tuesday afternoon -- a few hours after I had left for Vermont. With Big Mike out of town, Dewek in Colorado, and Carolyn vehicleless, I resorted to the last resort -- calling the folks at Maynard Door and Window to ask them to make sure the printer wasn't on the front porch, and possibly to cover it if it was on the back porch. When I got back, the printer was deep in the garage. I tried carrying it in, but the box was far, far too large for me to carry myself. It took both Beff and me, on Saturday afternoon, to carry it in.

So Beff finally got back on Saturday afternoon after being away at least two weeks. It took forever to get all her stuff out of the car -- as we also had a few things from the "estate" with us (Budapest pillows and a big rug, for starters), and of course Beff wanted to vacuum. So we reconfigured our rug situation (new rug in alcove, rug from alcove moved to guest room), I set up the printer, and Beff vacuumed. It seems to be a fact of life that for me installing a very large piece of technology involves much sweating.

So the printer is BIG. Being the larger, networkable model, it comes with an extra 500-sheet paper tray that becomes one with the printer -- rather than being a separate tray you substitute, like on the 4MV that is now outta here. The first thing it did was misfeed, but I think it may have been designed to -- the little control panel knew exactly where the misfeed was, and gave me step-by-step instructions for clearing it out. I installed the driver software on the 3 computers attached to the network, and it worked on all of them. A Windows first! I tested both letter and tabloid size printing, and they both worked well. Shortly, much 11x17 printing will happen. And then we will need to figure out how to do double-sided printing (automatic duplexing was a $500 option I did not go for).

Meantime, readers of an earlier version of last week's update know that I have my work cut out for me after school is over in May. That's a bit of information that I think I'll leave mysterious until the granting organization makes its official announcement. I can say that because of it I will definitely join a frequent flyer program, since I expect to be flying in a year almost as much as Gusty Thomas does in a typical week.

And yesterday I drove back to Littleton to pick up my new speakers, which are very small and sound terrific. On the way back, I stopped at Strawberries and got the new Christina Aguilera album, which has a few terrific tracks, and plenty of tracks where you wonder why she bothered. Also, I finally got the DVD of Office Space, which was on super-duper special. I may be capturing some small movies from that one -- where Jennifer Aniston says "I love Kung Fu movies", for instance.

So now my producing of scores and writing of syllabi, etc., has been delayed by a week. C'est la vie. Today Beff and I plan to walk downtown and do a bike ride. And I love days where that's all there is for us to do. Well, that, and lie in the hammock.

Today's pictures begin with the new printer, contextualized. Then there is an old milk wagon from a venue in Burlington, two pictures from the dregs of Burlington that Beff and I encountered on our walks, the bean-type fruit of a tree we encountered on a walk, the beach beneath the camp (summer home), view of the beach from the property, and the camp itself, showing the lower floor which has recently been converted from spiderwebby storage space to an actual bedroom and bathroom.

AUGUST 25. Breakfast this morning was rice sauasage links with melted 2% cheese, orange juice and coffee. Dinner was 99% fat free ravioli. Lunch was ... come to think of it, I guess I forgot to have lunch. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 56.3 and 86.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Bathtime in Clerkenwell" by The Real Tuesday Weld. LARGE EXPENSES this last six week include iPod speakers, $99 at BJ's, various mailing bag and binding materials at Staples, $72, and bindings for large scores at alphagraphics, $21. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: The family purchased a 1/4 track reel-to-reel player/recorder in 1964, and it had the capability of recording sound-on-sound. Over the years I would occasionally record multipart piano things or even four-part choral things with myself singing all four parts (you don't want to hear them -- trust me). There were two games that I and friends invented that, upon reflection, seem pretty inventive. One game involved using the pause a lot for a question and answer session so that the questions could be, say, composites of several consecutive questions (I most remember coming up with the composite question from four questions, "What does/used/toilet paper/taste like?") In the other game, one of us would record one side of a conversation, and the other would come in and record the other side, not knowing what to expect. Classic exchange: "What color is the wall you're looking at?" "I'm not looking at a wall." "Why aren't you looking at a wall?" COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is the Joyce Chen Asian Market in Acton, who still has no ginger sesame dressing on hand. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is alphagraphics and good old Trader Joe's. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: has anyone ever met one of the 33% of Americans who think W is doing a good job? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: strack. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF is formatting parts. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are Santa Barbara olives, as usual. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK I think I figured out how to do ovesize binding myself. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 8. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is nothing. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 2. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 32 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: E-mail spam that literally smells like spam. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Cortney Arce. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: re: se. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,676. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.94. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a Ken doll, a day without orange juice, a jar of dark matter, seventeen of whatever it is that wakes you up in the morning.

As I type this, it is a cool and rainy morning the likes of which we haven't seen since the last cool and rainy morning. Beff returned from Vermont last Saturday, and we've been back to the normal workload, or actually, more than the normal workload. Beff and I both had to write syllabi for our fall courses, and I rejoiced at getting mine done by Monday and being able to send them to Mark in the office for display purposes -- or for whatever reason it is that Brandeis makes us put our syllabi in department offices before classes begin. I was also happy to have three pieces of equipment toward the high end of their respective product lines: bigass printer, big paper cutter, very nice binding machine. For you see, the music I was waiting to print out was formatted for 11 x 14 paper, which means printing onto 11x17 paper and cutting it down. It was a long search for the paper cutter that was robust enough to let you measure 14 inches (most of them stop at 11). I then brought them to be copied onto expensive, heavy paper, double-sided, and then to alphagraphics to be bound. Now that was a trip.

So on Monday I let the Garmin direct me to alphagraphics, which is in one of the many villages of Concord -- it saved me maybe a mile and 10 minutes. After leaving them off, I drove into Brandeis to have a meeting about representing music on the experiential learning webpage of Brandeis, and while there I gave a tourlet to a family taking a look at Brandeis. On the way back, I got my scores, and voila, the last page of one of them was upside down and cut in the wrong place -- my bad. Upon return, I reprinted the page, cut it the correct way, and figured out how to make the TWO cuts on the binding machine to get it to fit with the score. I rule. Now I think I can do it again in the future, but we shall see. Obviously I got excited about extremely mundane things this week.

Then there was the issue of binding the parts and mailing the scores and parts off -- some to Kansas, some to Long Island -- and trips to Staples were necessary for the correct size mailing bags and for more binding coils. One of those trips was piggybacked onto a trip for iPod speakers -- I've requested iPod plug-ins for the small teaching room I'm in this fall, and I know we will get them -- in December. CompUSA had the gorgeous-but-so-expensive Bose system, but we opted for a smaller, less deluxe Logitech system, whose sound is adequate, and portable -- not to mention, it comes with a remote control and a carrying case. Also a trip to Trader Joe's got piggybacked on that trip, and I was able to get delicious salmon filets for dinner. So there, smarty pants.

Bike riding also resumed, and we did Boon Lake, the "other" Gropius house, and West Acton. Which leads me to note that for the first time in many months, the column of links to the left is different. The four bright yellow links are QuickTime movies from our West Acton ride, greatly sped up. See "Arriving Home" to see both Erickson's Dairy and Christy's trailer.

I also had to make a list of required listening for my orchestration class, bring it to the library, and ask for the materials to be put on reserve. This is a much faster process than trying to get them put online, which takes two weeks at least, and there is no score. So in the syllabus I noted that the listening is not online, and this semester we are "kickin' it oldstyle". There is a pretty large amount of work for the orchestration students to do, and at this point I can't resist putting in a little "MWA-ha-ha" for good measure. Also, deciding which homeworks the Theory 2 students will have to do was a chore -- especially considering I have to grade it all.

So now things for school are in gear, and Beff is in Bangor yesterday and today to start getting that stuff together -- as well as mowing the lawn, getting the car inspected, and paying the excise tax. As I type this, she is in Downeast Toyota getting new tires and doing work on her computer.

Meanwhile, I have begun the long and arduous process of extracting parts to my piano concerto. I'm going to try to average at least one a day for a while so that it won't drive me totally batty. So far, the two flute parts and the first oboe part is done. Each part has to have four files, since there are four movements, and doing the page numbers, remembering page turns, and especially putting in cues when there are long rests are very time-consuming, yet necessary. An extra five minutes spent putting in a cue might save five minutes times the number of players in an orchestra in rehearsal time. So I slog. Perhaps the second oboe part later today.

On Wednesday night, Beff and I dove headfirst into Boston restaurant week, choosing to do the Blue Room in Cambridge. We had to get an early reservation time -- though the numbers in the restaurant didn't seem to support that -- and we got there, as usual, an hour early so as to spend some time at the Cambridge Brewery, right next door. I had some hefeweizen and Beff had an altbier (making a comeback, it would seem), and we got some spring rolls, and we saw some post-work web designers having a large contraption of the hefeweizen. I think they call it the "tower", and it looks like a science project. Except you can get a buzz from it. At the Blue Room, we had really excellent appetizer and main meal (the hangar steak, which was amazing), and fairly mundane dessert. We also did the recommended wines to go with the dinner because hey, we're worth it.

And then it was the drive home, eventless until almost all the way home, where there were flashing lights and a cop directing traffic -- always a surreal thing when it's dark. Near as we can figure, a telephone pole across the street broke and it had to be fixed right away (what with exposed wires in the street and all). Thursday morning when Beff left for Bangor, they were still a-fixin' it. I took pictures.

Yesterday in addition to extracting parts, I went into Brandeis finally to organize my office -- get the stuff out of the boxes, arrange the computer, etc. I am good to go. And I put Lily's little "recontextualization" thing from last fall on my door. You had to be there.

And finally, on Monday, Maynard Door and Window sent some guys over to begin the process of replacing our bulkhead doors. This apparently involved just step one, pouring some cement and waiting for it to dry. This got us to thinking -- we are finally going to go ahead with converting the pantry into a half-bathroom, which will apparently add double the cost to the value of the house (who knows if I just made that up?). Beff asked the guys at Door and Window who a good contractor would be, and they said they could do it. Hot diggity. We decided to keep the storage there, if possible, but then decided to knock it down and put new cabinets or shelves in, if possible. And at the very end of our West Acton bike ride we stopped at a tile store and started shopping. Wow.

Today's pictures begin with two from Yaddo that were finally retrieved from my phone: Beena, and Judah and Ruth. Next is Beff's altbier from Cambridge Brewing, Beff herself, Beff's gazpacho, and a nice picture of Cammy caught mid-meow. Then there is Jeremy's dissertation defense committee, and a night shot of the street while the telephone pole was being repaired.

SEPTEMBER 4. Breakfast this morning was Trader Joe's potato pancakes and rice sausage links, orange juice, and coffee; Beff eschewed the potato pancakes in favor of actual pancakes. Dinner last night was grilled sliced portabello, grilled eggplant, and grilled shishkebab with marinated meat from Whole Foods. Lunch was post-colloquium type stuff, also with mozzarella balls and spicy olives. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 48.4 and 78.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Oddly enough, "Slow Drag" from Scott Joplin's "Treemonisha". LARGE EXPENSES this last six week include various staples at BJ's, $78. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I used to have hair. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is PSB Speakers, who have yet to send a replacement woofer for my blown speaker. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is Whole Foods for their wide variety of stuff to put on the grill. Bitchin. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Why do we mow the many lawns we do not use here? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: flinglepuss. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF is breathless e-mails from Brandeis about new people in offices I never go to. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are Bubbie's Pickles, Whole Foods spicy olives and marinated chicken. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK The location of the Whole Foods in Wayland. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 1.01. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Bio, Compositions. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is one branchful of seedless red grapes. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 2. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 37 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: A "baby" version of tenure called ninure. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Socorro Brandt. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: anytime talk PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,688. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.77. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a used book, the way we were, some tweezers I forgot I still had, the dead crane fly that got stuck in a spider web that's still hanging off the kitchen window.

Actually, it's ten days since the last post, not a week, but I'm working back into a Tuesday groove, if I can. Today is Labor Day (in Europe it's in May, just barely), and there's a nice combination of light traffic and heavy conversation all around us -- not to mention, some heavy machinery -- I believe I hear a power mower (I shonuff smell cut grass) and a power wedger, if that's what that's called -- a big loud machine that takes logs and splits them gradually into fireplace size. I also hear an inordinate amount of birds for the middle of the day (the white-breasted nuthatch and the chipping sparrow are going whole ... hog). And while the sun goes in and out at random (though the clouds have something to do with that), Beff is currently driving to Maine to begin her tenth teaching year there.

I'm trying to remember specifically what we did the weekend before this one, but it seems that all we did was bike rides when we could, and various bits of academic work. As I mentioned last time, I have been (virtually) gluing myself to my G5 to do parts for my piano concerto, and I can now safely announce that as of an hour ago, I had finished all the parts that don't go divisi into multiple staves: that would be 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, bass clarinet, 2 bassoons, 2 trumpets, 2 trombones, 3 percussion, and double bass. For those not acquainted with extracting parts for 33-minute piano concertos, it involves getting the notes from Finale, inserting cues when an instrument sits out for a certain period, and prettifying it all so that the parts themselves do not cost rehearsal time, and my own inadequacies as a composer are the only thing to blame. And I do get obsessive about making the parts look good -- I think I was spoiled by Eric Bartlett of Orpheus telling me the parts I sent them were the best they ever got. Crap. This would be a lot easier if I had no standards.

Beff was in Maine for both pre-weekends getting whatever it is that she has to get together, as well as talking with various siblings about various estate stuff. We have both been going through the second season of Veronica Mars voraciously -- it's at least as addictive as nicotine, caffeine, and voluminous praise -- and as of now we have but four episodes left for this season. The amount of side stories is pretty amazing, and every once in a while I've channeled various populist music critics to comment: "well, as long as it's not just complexity for its own sake." Also, since the guy who plays Veronica's father also played an alien in "Galaxy Quest", Beff often asks me to repeat his lines in the alien character's voice. Often it comes out like the minister in "The Princess Bride".....

And so that takes care of our evenings. Last week we had saved Tuesday for a tourist-type trip to Plum Island on the north coast, but the voluminous rain saw to it that we wouldn't do that. So instead we did a grand tour -- BJ's for various staples (toilet paper, paper towels, Claritin, a weirdass soda collection, kitty litter), Trader Joe's (beer, wine, chips, fish, and they DON'T SELL INKO'S ANY MORE), and then the long route up 495 to Littleton for a tile store. Yes, we are still looking at tile for the convert the pantry to a half bath project, and I'm at the point where all the tiles look almost the same, and Beff is not. This is why Beff is Beff. We of course navigated with the Garmin, and Beff had set it to instruct us in Danish -- though the prompts on the screen were still in English -- and then Italian -- but for such an important trip as this, she set it back to American English. In all these trips to tile stores, I have appreciated that they always made it clear that they REALLY REALLY wanted our business, but they were not as desperate as mattress stores. When they tell us "I'll be right here if you have any questions," I usually wonder where they'll be if we don't. Thankfully, not aloud.

And then I had to go into ... WORK ... on Wednesday. There were prospective students to meet and a Major Fair to staff. Bob and Jim also came to the major fair, and we had plenty of time to jawbone about various stuff, since we didn't have as many customers as in previous years -- I guess this year's crop of freshmen is not as high maintenance as the last few. In the earlier part of the day (I got there way before my first appointment) I actually re-outfitted my office. Which is to say, I took stuff that had been put in boxes last December, and splayed it about more or less as randomly as it had been in my previous office. But now my office is carpeted, AND it has a new number (220) because .. it is in a different place. I also brought in my artist colony printer so I could have an instantaneous place for printouts. I am SO cool.

And on Thursday ... back to Brandeis again. This time I got there early to make some copies of (public domain) music reduced so I could hand them out next week and ... the new copier seems to BE UNABLE TO DO IT WITHOUT CUTTING THE EDGES OFF. My suggestion that we trash the new copier and get the old copier back went unheeded. My second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth suggestions that we trash the new copier and get the old copier back also went unheeded. This battle of the titans is going to go on. So I wasted a half hour, luckily interrupted by the meeting I had to go to -- Faculty Senate. As old-time readers know, I was elected while in Bogliasco, and now I have to live with the consequences. As to the reductions -- I was able to do them on my little Xerox machine at home, which cost, oh, maybe one-fifteenth what the new music department copier cost. Which gives me a little bit more to deduct at tax time.

A little bit later in the week (actually, Friday), I got talked into yet another level of university service: the Faculty Senate Council. I don't know what that means yet, but from what I have gathered, the council is 4 people that meet both with the senate and the administration, in person, to do what it is faculty senate council does. And what I know about that so far is ... it has meetings.

Now we had asked friends to our west about getting together for lunches, etc. this weekend, but none of them could do it at the appointed times ... David Sanford in Northampton, Julie K in Worcester ... so it was more of the usual work this weekend, and on Sunday it was The Return of the Ka-Chings. Yes, ka-ching Carolyn may have moved to much, much, much, much, much, much greener pastures, but she's still a ka-ching twin, and as such she and Big Mike came over for what was originally planned to be another canoeing jaunt (see "ka-ching canoeing" movie to the left). Tropical Fizzle Ernesto made that less than possible, so instead we concerned ourselves with exotic eating stuff from Whole Foods and '80s videos and called it The Day After Carolyn's Birthday. As it turned out, we were right. I saw Madonna videos I hadn't seen in years (like Take a Bow, Vogue) and Janet Jackson videos I hadn't seen ever (Control), and it was very successful. For a capper, we watched, on on-demand, the first episode of this season of Weeds. And had some frozen mocha bars that Big Mike had brought.

Today Beff and I did the West Concord ride, including the big hill on Summer Hill Road (hence the name), which was a big exercise, and then had cheeseburgers -- the leftover lowfat hamburger we defrosted for Sunday but didn't eat. And shortly after finishing the double bass part, I came to this Windows computer to update. So there, so there.

I also spent a VERY long time this week evaluating an external file for academic purposes. I would be more specific, but I don't think I am supposed to. I wrote the letter, sealed the envelope, and jumped up and down. A lot.

Six days from today (Sunday the 10th), we have volunteered to host a department pot luck again, from 2 to 6. All music department people past and present are welcome, as are the regular readers of this space, including those with initials that are the same as a New England state. The music office has been slow to spread the news, so I've tried to get them up to speed a little. And if you would like directions and a map, check out the "Where da pot luck?" link on the left.

Three weeks ago, briefly, I put up on this space that I had won the Barlow Prize -- a commission from the Barlow Foundation to write for a consortium of five wind ensembles. I removed it soon thereafter, thinking that it should be private until the Barlow Foundation announced it ("after September 15", according to the web page). Then I looked at my e-mail, which did not warn me to keep it secret. So, I Know What I Did Next Summer. All that's different is that I'm applying to colonies sooner than usual, since I'm usually on the three-year plan. Now all I have to do is get through this academic year. And then (sigh) I have to write for band. I don't know how to write for band.

I didn't have occasion to take many pictures this week, so we have a paucity here. Beff took a bunch of Starbucks coolers and funny colored sodas with her to Maine last weekend, and I photographed the arrangement. Then I got Carolyn by our lunch setup yesterday. Later, while I was e-mailing, Beff called up and said, "Take pictures of Sunny!" So I did. If you look really closely way back in the second one, you'll see Cammy looking on with those cat glow-eyes that happen when flashes go off. I also like the details on the hydrangia on the very last shot.

SEPTEMBER 15. Breakfast this morning was ... uh, nothing now that I think of it. Dinner was Campbells Select Soup of some sort, plus some chips with salsa. Lunch was the two slice special at Cappy's. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 41.4 and 81.9. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Some tune from the Notebook for Anna Magdalena Bach, don't know what it's called. LARGE EXPENSES this last week or so are a toy piano ordered over the phone, but not yet paid for, repaired PSB speaker $116, new watch at K-Mart $19. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My third grade teacher was pretty strict, and sometimes in ways that made no sense. On a vocabulary test, she once gave me an "F" because all the sentences I used began with "the". COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are the US Postal Service. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is Chau Dental. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: What's the big idea? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: struples. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF include mouth pain, and diminished seventh chords. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are Bubbie's Pickles, chips with some salsa, Santa Barbara Olives pepperoncini. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Modern dentistry. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 1.01011011001101. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, bio, compositions. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is another vitamin pill type thing. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 4.. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 44 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: a video iPod with a watchable screen. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Burris E. Fizzle. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Re: PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,732. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.55. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a placard that says "POOP", the mixing bowl that's too big for most stuff, 27 winter hats, a piece of ice.

It's actually eleven days since the last post, so deal with it. I have just returned from my first actual dental visit in about ten years. Don't look at me that way. I seem to have found a full-service practice (Dr. Chau, in Sudbury, on Boston Post Road) with exactly what I needed: people who don't look at me that way. In any case, for those of you that need to know, I'm minus four old fillings, have one tooth that needs a crown, and a couple of impacted wisdom teeth. And plenty of tartar -- or I did. Modern dental amenities amaze: each of the work rooms has a large computer monitor hanging from the wall, and it's used for two purposes: for kids to watch cartoons while their teeth are being cleaned, and for you to see digital pictures of your own teeth (the cool thing -- maybe -- was that the pictures revealed the original glue (resin) for the missing fillings. Eeew). A little Water-Pik shaped thing took pictures of my teeth, which I got to see, and then I got to see my X-Rays (I had forgotten that they set you up with the welder's bib to take the X-Rays). The initial tartar removal was done not with a drill but with water and ultrasound. And just a little of the pick. I have been having pain in my mouth, upper right, for a little while (I don't know if my students have noticed or not), and it feels as if the teeth have shifted perhaps. The X-Rays reveal nothing wrong except probably some nighttime teeth grinding. Ugh, how do I teach myself not to do that? Anyway, I have two more DEEPER cleanings scheduled in early October -- actual novocaine events. Then, new fillings, the crown, take out the bad wisdom teeth, etc.

I also am in the throes of preparing a speech for the 26th, at which time I accept the Naumburg Chair (I hope it fits in my back seat). It will be a semi-multimedia extravaganza -- since the audience won't know much about what I do -- and I have been trying to write out -- actually write out -- my speech. So far the results are disastrous. Beff suggests I come in with an outline and wing it (or Buffalo wing it, nyuk nyuk), which is what it may come down to. It's hard for me to be serious without being pompous as well -- why didn't I know that before now? Hey, I have to acknowledge all the other composers who have passed through Brandeis, and acknowledge the composers whose work influenced me, etc. ... oh well, maybe I'll come up with a version that doesn't make me out to be so serious. I am counting on that Shakespeare tie that Beff got me to keep the overall spirit light.

And in the meantime, the teaching season is under way. Due to the mouth thing, I've felt a little constricted from my usual teaching style, but when I get into it, I've gone right past the pain. No problemo. I now have to make up a 15-minute quiz for my orchestration class (it was the only way to get them to do the assigned listening, thought I), prepare the Neapolitan lecture, and remember that I see seven private students per week.

The meeting phase of being on the Faculty Senate Council has begun, and it is not painful -- though it did cause me to wake up early on a Tuesday, on which I would normally not come into Brandeis. There has also been a large gathering of faculty and grad students from the music department so that all can get acquainted and talk about what they are doing. That was not bad. And what are my students writing? Here goes: etude for whistler, string quartet, Pierrot piece, orchestra with two voices as well as parallel version with Pierrot, solo piano piece, solo piano piece, string nonet.

The season of sleepovers has begun as well, which was inaugurated by Harold Meltzer on Wednesday night, after his Dinosaur Annex concert. We now have a new acquaintance in common -- Gina Ruggeri, who is his colleague at Vassar, and in whose studio at Yaddo my PSB speaker blew. Harold brought wine, as good houseguests are supposed to, I guess, and we had some wine that was already cold. Not much of a wine guy.

On Sunday we had our occasional -- perhaps two times every three years -- Sunday pot luck for the beginning of the school year, which was fun and well attended. As usual, I made pizza, and for once it didn't all get snarfed; I also grilled some marinated eggplant. Eric Chafe brought the most amazing salmon curry, and others brought pretty much the right combination of things to make it a complete meal. There was a record attendance in children for this one -- two babies, a toddler, a six-year-old, and a seven-year-old. Our department is blessed with issue. Not to mention beer, as it turns out. And both of our New England states showed up as well -- nice to see Newek out and about. To Newek -- I updated your file letter again, since I noticed that I said you had taught Mus 106 with me in 1992. While I was at Columbia, and you weren't.

And on Monday, Beff, alas, lost her wallet from her pocketbook -- probably it fell out as she was walking from the parking lot at U Maine to her office. And it was my job, having the credit cards that she also had, to cancel those cards and request new ones. Now I have a basis for comparing Chase, Citibank and Bank of America (whatever happened to smaller banks?), and it goes like this. Remember, of course, that someone trying to cancel a credit card is agitated, trying to get to a customer service rep before someone uses the card illegally. Number of steps from Customer Service number to speaking to a rep: all of them fail. Time spent on hold AFTER negotiating a morass of numeric choices: Chase, 2 minutes, Citibank 1 minute, Bank of America 4 minutes. Ease of use in cancelling: all of them get high marks. Kept me on the line trying to sell me more services I didn't want: Chase. Of course this meant that Beff was without her credit cards, but also without her license, Pier One card, U of Maine card, AAA card, etc., and without any usable ID or any way of getting cash (other than writing checks to her colleagues -- how 70s). So I express mailed her passport to her to use as picture ID and -- get this -- the US Postal Service could not guarantee a next day delivery to Orono, just 255 miles away. For those of you playing along at home, this pretty much confirms that the USPS sucks big ones. So she's got ID, got just enough cash to buy gas to get back to Maynard, and is slowly building back up her card retinue. Which began with the purchase of a five dollar wallet.

The Barlow Prize has been announced via e-mail to all the applicants, so I can simply say, without being outta line, that in April I'll be able to prove once again that I don't know how to write for band. Apparently that's not a bad thing.

I am also thinking ahead to a 74th piano etude: a "talking pianist" etude requested by Adam Marks, and I'm going to use a text piece by Rick Moody for it. He gave the go-ahead for an abbreviated version of his text. It uses "not" a lot.

We have just started a little warm spell, so I like the weather right now, and the cats are actually now lounging on the roof outside of the computer room. Actually, Cammy has liked doing that quite a bit lately -- one night I closed the screen to go to bed, came back in ten minutes later to see Cammy looking plaintively through the screen at me. Oops.

Upcoming include lunch at MacDowell with Tarik on Tuesday, going to U Southern Maine for a Beff spectacular next Friday -- which is Beff's birthday, giving the stupid, stupid, stupid speech, and going to inner Maine with Beff for a wedding of one of her students. Then more teeth cleaning will happen. Joy of joys.

This week's pictures include a glow-eye shot from the flash of Cammy on the roof outside the computer room, followed by seven candid shots taken at the pot luck. You regular readers are probably wondering why you bothered this week....

SEPTEMBER 22. Breakfast this morning was rice link sausages, orange juice and coffee. Dinner was Campbells Select Soup of some sort, and later chips with Santa Barbara Olive salsa. Lunch was the two slice special at Cappy's. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 40.5 and 80.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Wouldn't It Be Nice" by the Beach Boys. LARGE EXPENSES this last week or so are a Schoenhut toy piano, $239, video iPod $366 with tax, 2 Oral-B electric toothbrushes, $33 each. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: The counterpoint class I taught at Columbia met in a classroom on the fifth floor of Barnard Hall. Sometimes we would go out the window onto the roof right next to the building and view the river and Riverside Church. One day as I was messing around with examples and flinging the eraser behind my back, it happened to land perfectly on the chalk tray. Sweeeeet. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK is Schoenhut Pianos via Un4gettable Toys, and the programmers at Apple who wrote iTunes 7. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is Apple Computer. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How many Neapolitan sixths does it take to change a key? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: klunkfarbenmelodie. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF include Republicans and incorrect resolutions of the Neapolitan sixth. People, flat 2 does not resolve to natural 2! RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are just the usual breakfast staples. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK video iPodness. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 9. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is a chipmunk, brought into the master bedroom to be offed. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 1.. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 49 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Mandatory fugues in every sitcom theme song. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Bohuslav Renard. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: PHmuARdMA PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,779. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.47. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a drafting table, the Sports section of the New York Times, the head of a pin minus the angels, and seventeen pieces of peanut brittle.

Today is Beff's birfday. Later in the day we will be hooking up at the University Maine in Gorham (or University of Southern Maine, Gorham campus), where she is doing a music technology clinic, and is the star of an 8:00 concert. Our friend Dan Sonenberg set the whole thing up -- he's also bringing me and Amy D there in March -- and we plan on dinner with Dan and his lovely wife Alex. We know both of them from overlapping at the VCCA, where wackiness tends to ensue. Then late at night we'll get back, and likely Geoffy will already be here, sound asleep. Or silent asleep.

Then this weekend I will try to stop obsessing about my stupid speech I give Tuesday -- it kinda kept going through my head overnight whenever I woke up. Nope, don't want to make a fool of myself.

The weather got gorgeous for last weekend -- it had rained overnight Friday night, and predictions were for a gloomy and muggy Saturday, but instead it got sunny and gorgeous. So Beff and I dropped everything, so to speak, and finally made the drive to the wildlife refuge on Plum Island,on the north shore of Massachusetts. It was a fairly straightforward drive, bringing us through historic-looking Newburyport, and stuff, and there was an actual entry fee. It reminded us a little of the wildlife refuge near the Atlantic Center, minus the crocodiles, and plus actual long strands of sandy beach. It's basically a big barrier island with lots of grass and boardwalks, and we saw what scenery we could -- even doing one of the "hikes" along a boardwalk that reminded me a bit of the old ballplayers that came in and out of Field of Dreams. When we saw what we had done, we left, and trolled around for a nice place for lunch. None was to be found, so we drove to Essex and ate at Woodmans -- which was a lot of fun until we actually had to eat all that fried stuff. We got two fried clam platters and Sam Adams on draft, and should have gotten one for the two of us to share.

Sunday was also a perfectly nice day, and we celebrated the continued warmth by doing a bike ride to Boon Lake. Sweet. We also got a bunch of stuff at Shaw's where we are collecting "points" for a future heavily discounted shopping trip. One point per $20 spent, and 20 points gets you the shopping spree. We now have 19. And we are so pathetic to care about this. Also at K-Mart we got Beff some CD-Rs for use at the office, and I followed the dentist's advice to get an electric toothbrush. So Beff got one, too. When the first price tag I saw at K-Mart said $140 I started worrying -- till we saw a really good Oral-B model for $33. I had always thought of electric toothbrushes as useless but cute little toys -- we had one when I was 8, and it just kind of vibrated. This new, modern model both vibrates and has a spinning part that is supposed to penetrate your gums. Cool. Gum penetration is a new thing for me. Hee hee. I said "penetration".

Otherwise -- besides the usual teaching this week, there was a Faculty Senate meeting on Thursday which was NOT a waste of time (at least not of mine). Last week on Wednesday I had brought my 2-1/2 year old second generation iPod to my theory class and had planned to play an excerpt. And when I pressed PLAY, up came the blinking battery icon. It had been fully charged on Monday, and I played 5 minutes of Daphnis in the orchestration class that day. So it occurred to me finally -- time to make the plunge and get that new iPod.

So on Saturday online, I ordered a black 80 gig iPod on the Apple site, with my name engraved on it. It arrived at Brandeis while I was teaching orchestration on Wednesday, and it had been shipped from Shanghai on Sunday. Excellent work, Apple China people. When it arrived, I showed it to Max, who was in Yu-Hui's office, and he said, "cool, man (he starts every conversation this way). Like you just connect it, say yes to Sync, and go out and have a beer". Which was the case. I had been collecting mp4s and stuck them in my iTunes library, and they made it onto the iPod and ... they play! And I added photos and stuff -- though I had to download the manual from a well-hidden corner of the Apple webpage to figure out how to do that. Using it at school Thursday, it became evident that fingerprints are more prominent on a black iPod than on a white one.

And when I arrived home on Wednesday, there were not one, but TWO Schoenhut toy pianos in the garage. I had ordered one online from Un4gettable Toys, and when Beff lost her wallet and credit cards, I called them up to let them know the credit card I had given them would not work. Got the answering machine, asked them to call me back. When after two days they didn't, I called, told them to cancel the order, and also e-mailed them. Meanwhile, I called another company to order a toy piano. And both of them arrived at once. The first one was beautiful, had a lovely sound. The second one only made plink noises, nearly no pitch. I unscrewed the top piece of wood and saw that a screw was missing a bolt and that the metal plate that makes the pitches was misaligned. Easy thing to fix, but it sure was shoddy work of some sort on Schoenhut's part. I decided to keep both -- one for the concerto (going to Marilyn some time this fall), and one for my office. I brought it in yesterday, and had to take down one of my shelves in order for it to fit on the piano. Both pianos came with a very cute bench, by the way, small enough so that the cats can peer over it, if they were so inclined.

On Tuesday, I used my day off to drive up to the MacDowell Colony -- a mere 70 minute drive -- to do lunch with Tarik O'Regan, whom I met at Yaddo and is -- duh -- in residence at MacDowell. He is in Chapman studio, a mere, oh, 20 or so miles from Colony Hall, which I got to see, and we went downtown and he showed me Nonie's -- which I liked. We did cheeseburger platters, and afterwards we went to the bar next door, and since it was so nice outside, we sat on the patio and had two beers each -- Long Trail IPA and Harpoon Octoberfest. That kind of kept us there for quite some time, so it was kind of late by the time I got out of Peterborough. Tarik gave me a CD of his, which turned out to be a great car CD -- lots of beautiful English choral singing and stuff, dontcha know. And organ.

Last night, another week of teaching behind me, I decided to capture a few music videos for my iPod. I also got a couple of scenes from Big Man on Campus while I was at it. I decided to try out the "save for iPod" feature of iMovie, which saves movies as mp4s and sticks them in the iTunes library. Fine, that seemed to have worked. All in all, I saved 5 movies, the last of them a Janet Jackson video. When I connected the iPod and asked it to sync, the first message I saw was "copying 2 of 4789"... stupid program obliterated the old library from the iPod and copied largely the same damn thing back onto the iPod. What a time waster. Then when it was done I saw that instead of five new movies in iTunes, I had FIVE COPIES OF THE SAME JANET JACKSON VIDEO. And there was no trace anywhere of the other four I had just added. So, Apple iTunes programmers -- get your heads out of your buttcheeks. Cleaning up after iTunes's mess was not difficult, but I should not have had to. And two of the videos are lost forever.

There was one misspeaking in a class this week and I forget the context, except that I said "destiny" when I meant "density". I covered my tracks by mentioning Benoyce and Density's Child.

This week's pictures include the new iPod (showing picture of me and Berio), new toy piano as Sunny looks on, and eight shots in the Plum Island refuge.

OCTOBER 2. Breakfast this morning was rice link sausages, orange juice and coffee. Dinner was lowfat cheeseburgers and salad. Lunch was a bunch of noshing on chips, salsa, olives, etc. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 37.6 and 80.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "The Look of Love" in the Diana Krall version. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include clothes, cat food, food, and iPod accessories at Target, $122, the Munich Bach Orchestra CD of the Brandenburgs, $52, more iPod accessories from a drug store in Norway, Maine, $58, oil change from Mr. Quick's in Bangor, $31. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My sister and her boyfriend at the time must have had disposable income, as they got me a cassette player/recorder, along with the Sly & the Family Stone cassette "Stand" for Christmas when I was a freshman in high school. Which is part of how I know those tunes so well. It was my first battery-powered tape recorded, and every spring on the first warm weekend day I would record stuff happening outside -- from hitting wiffle balls to making the dog bark to simply running by. I think the old box of cassettes contains several simply marked "a warm April day". SURREALITY OF THE WEEK: Bossa nova playing in a Japanese restaurant in Bangor. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How many jokes on Oedipus are there, really? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sterk. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF include driving 2-lane roads in the dark, waiting around at receptions, and feeding CDs into iTunes. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are olives and rice link breakfast sausages. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Bangor cell phone service is now digital, and is mandated to be so by the end of 2007. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 5. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page and Performances. "Companies who have/have not covered themselves in glory" is now gone, replaced by "Surreality of the Week". NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 1. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is nothing. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 6. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 25 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Endowed Chairs without speeches attached. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: spelled Try. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: try Answers for. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,779. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.33 and $2.35, though I see it in Maynard now for $2.22. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a delayed reaction, two pairs of poopified underwear, a sentimental journey, as much snot as you can shake a stick at.

All right, all right. The single biggest cause of stress in my life -- the Naumburg Chair speech -- has happened, and moving on is being done by me. Much of the previous weekend was spent stressing about it (I pretended I knocked of the speech and started writing it Saturday, but that was not the case), finalizing its structure, followed by three days of returning to it obsessively and adjusting it a word at a time. It started with my silly Oedipus joke, padded by a story of "test-marketing" it at Yaddo and in Music 103. Then it got personal, and ended with a bit of video, first introducing, then playing Amy D's amazing performance of "Martler". Literati and glitterati were therem including several of my colleagues, Eric Hill from theater and several principals from The Bacchae, including highly talented Sound Design guy who goes by an initial. Also looking on were two from the faculty senate, others from theater, the Dean, the Provost, and the former Provost who hired me at a 15 percent discount from what I would have made at Columbia.

I also got a huge bouquet of flowers that I was instructed to give to Beff -- and I did so, having to take them to Maine, much more on that later. There was a big spread of pretty expensive food -- including stuffed grape leaves (personal story: Symphony Restaurant used to be where Pizzeria Uno is around the corner from NEC, and it was a Greek specialty place. For years the menu included "stuffed crap leaves", which I think should have been more popular than they must have been). The Provost introduced me with a fairly lengthy speech, including quotes from my student evaluations ("Davy is the Man", for instance -- the level of discourse at Brandeis is frequently a little higher than that), revealing a few things I didn't know -- including the fact that my academic rank my first year (when I was in Rome) was Instructor (a bit of a fall from Associate Professor, which I was at Columbia). I blame Claudio and the tendency at Princeton for dissertation reading to be laissez faire. Then there was the obligatory list of stuff. I had thought a history of the Chair would also be presented (Fine, Berger, Shapero, Wyner), but it was not, so I had to fill a little in in order to get to one of my points.

The speech in the middle revealed some personal and tragic things from my life that I'd never made public before, and when I got to that part, my voice unexpectedly broke a little. There was at least one moment when I was reading and I briefly started thinking only "I'm reading a speech" as the words continued to come out. I guess this happens frequently. As to said personal and tragic things -- you who read this (you know who you are, because, in a relative sense "you" are "me", and I speak outside of myself when I say that) may read my speech, which you may find by clicking the red link down below and to the left. Afterwards I got some nice feedback (I thought it sucked, but then again, I am me, and here I do not speak outside of myself), including plenty of comments about how gracious I was to my hosts. Yes, I really did.

Afterwards it was just a few colleagues hanging out by the food table, and I had to carry the enormous bouquet to my Office to ready it for taking to Maine. Thursday I did so, first emptying the water from the vase, with Yu-Hui's help.

As to last last weekend, Beff was here, it was warm enough for bike rides at various times, and those we did, in between my stressing about my speech. Maynard Door and Window had left the bulkhead doors kind of open -- they laid the cement in August, and it has been dry for some time -- and I noticed water getting into the basement where bulkhead doors should be. So I covered that with our extra tarp and held it down with the Adirondack, um, ottomans (ottomen?). Meanwhile, much cutting of vines and extra branches in the backyard -- very relaxing stuff when you are stressing about a speech.

The week's teaching went fine, though for some reason I scheduled two hour and a half classes on the augmented sixth, which really takes only one class, and I shot my wad. For the second class, I brought in my siren song (including playing a movie of a Bogliasco ambulance, with sound) and O Rhode Island, which we sang en masse. Meanwhile, this was a Musica Viva weekend, meaning Geoffy was around. We actually got to see each other for about ten minutes Thursday morning before I had to go to work, and he very nicely took in the mail and fed the cats while I was in Maine -- even down to the point of washing the cat food cans so they could be recycled (we usually don't bother). Geoff tried out the action on the toy piano, and we confirmed that it's pretty good. And after my Thursday teaching it was the drive to Bangor.

I brought the new iPod with me for the drive, and found it with some dismay that the FM broadcast portion of my car trip hardware was still in Maynard -- that part can be detached and attached to your computer such that the sound from your computer can be broadcast, and I had showed it to Beff and not reattached it -- so it was W-BACH radio and Lite Oldies for me. In Orono, Beff and I met for dinner at Woodmans, where there was very nice beer and pretty good Buffalo tenders for me. Friday was our free day, which alas was a rainy one, and I rediscovered the joy of retrieving e-mail at dial-up speeds (including a flurry of Faculty Senate stuff that was as important as it was boring). In the morning, I got an oil change (that mileage number from the last one crept up unexpectedly) and we went to Target, Borders, and the Bangor Mall to look for various stuff, much of it iPod-related. Before that, I was briefly at UMaine, where Beff's makeup lesson didn't show up, and I scarfed a pile of CDs to put on my iPod -- so THAT'S where the complete Beethoven and Mozart sonatas have been all this time. Finally the rain let up a bit, we took a little walk,and that was it. Lunch was at the Sea Dog (Teriyaki Tuna sandwich, now $10 and the first time we had it there it was $6) and the Ichiban Japanese restaurant (where they played bossa nova on the sound system).

Saturday was the reason I came to Maine. Beff and Chip (U Maine band director who has made plenty of appearances in this space) had been guilted into going to the wedding of a music graduate, way in the innards of the state of Maine. We shoved off at 10 am for Norway, Maine, passing through the traffic pattern hell that is Auburn/Lewiston on the way, and sat through a perfectly nice wedding, with a humorous homily (say that five times fast) by a priest with an Australian accent. The reception was north by about a half hour drive, at a mountain resort in Bethel, Maine, and here's where much, much, much of our time got wasted. There was a half hour wait for the (not open!) bar to open -- and there was post-concert reception type stuff available, too), after which there was an hour(!) wait for the grand room to open, where we were seated for a meal (tables were assigned -- and the list was by table, not alphabetical, which made finding your assigned table much longer than it should have been). Things were SO-o-o-o slow that Beff and I started creating deadlines. The first was "if there is no champagne in my glass by 4:30 we leave". Thankfully (so to speak), mine was full at 4:28:40. Then there was the 4:50 deadline for salad (we got it with a minute to spare). The meal itself was actually quite good -- we had pork tenderloin and not the haddock. We also sat with a music former student who now decorates cakes at a Shaws, and he made all the cakes for the reception AND he made the mix tape of golden oldies (I mean, Lawrence Welk, people) that played during the reception.

Meanwhile, another oldies band wearing red plaid shirts was setting up as we eat, and TWO -- TWO! -- of them looked like fat versions of Jim Ricci (Beff was the first to notice). We couldn't get close enough for a good picture to document that fact, hence the Sasquatchesque picture to appear below. But now we know what Jim's future holds. I hope he knows how to blow bubbles.

We stayed long enough for the bride to make her appearance at our table, and got outta there -- for it was a long, long drive back to Bangor, through towns, cities, curvy passages, etc. Drives like that, stuck behind slowish cars, seem much longer in the dark than they do in the light. My conclusion as we drove the home stretch was that this was fun and the food was nice, but in the future when Beff gets guilted into going to weddings in the middle of f***ing nowhere, that it would be okay with me for her to go alone.

Yesterday I drove back, beating the predicted big rainstorm by about a half hour -- a new iPod charger and FM broadcaster worked fine, but the signal was too weak for good playback on my cheap-ass radio. I spent most of the day after returning feeding CDs into the iMac G5 with the intent of iPodding the data. And STILL I have 33 gigs free. I also got some more videos off of iTunes, and the Diana Krall version of "The Look of Love" is totally terrif. I mean totally. Must to get her new CD.

Today is Yom Kippur, which makes it a vacation day from Brandeis -- tomorrow is a Monday schedule, though, which gives me three straight days at Brandeis. Today I must write a pile of letters, correct theory homework, and feed yet more CDs for the ol' iPod -- complete string quartets of Beethoven going in right now. And this morning the workers from Maynard Door and Window finally showed up to continue their work on the new bulkhead doors. Coming up: two novocaine events, for tartar cleaning UNDER the gums, on Friday and next Tuesday. Beff is back Thursday night but goes to Vermont to do dad-estate type stuff, and returns Sunday or Monday. She actually gets a little break for Columbus Day (it's an old help-with-the-harvest kind of break that is not pertinent for most nowadays), so she'll get to be around for my second novocaine event. What fascinating conversation we will have. We also decided that we have to own a ladder, and we have no way to transport one from a hardware store except to carry it -- so on Friday, novocained up, I plan on going with Beff to Aubuchon and carrying one home. First thing to do with ladder: Re-join faux railings on top of front porch. Second thing: get onto garage roof and cut branch that is rubbing against it. Third thing: take down a few fragile branches from the "pathetic" maple tree that could fall into traffic. Fourth thing: figure out where to store it.

This week's pictures: Sunny reflected in the toy piano, Geoffy playing it (using the bench). Four scenery pictures from the wedding reception area, our cake, the bride laughing with Chip and Beff, and the Sasquatch-type picture of the overstuffed Jim Ricci wannabe.

OCTOBER 10. Breakfast this morning was absolutely nothing. Lunch was sour pickles from Whole Foods, olives from whole foods, and old olive oil french fries. Dinner last night was salmon burgers and salad made with arugula purchased at the Maynard Farmers Market. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 35.3 and 76.8. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS transition music from an unidentified TV commercial. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include maintenance on Beff's Camry, $572. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I have no memory of this, but I was told that the first time I went to a dentist (Dr. Sussman in St. Albans) I cried and screamed the whole time, and when it was over, Dr. Sussman is reputed to have told my parents that for all he cared my teeth could rot. Perhaps this is why my earliest dental memories are in Swanton. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: If it moves, does that mean we don't have to paint it? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: kickle. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are breathing through my nose and waiting for the damn leaves to fall so they can be raked. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are real lemonade and limeade, Bubbies, and Freschetta thin pizzas. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Uses of words like "calculus" and "deep pockets" to describe stuff in my mouth that I can't see. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 6. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is a little bit of plastic from a wrapper. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 4. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 29 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Self-raking leaves. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,841. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.25, though I see it in Maynard now for $2.15. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a sectional conclusion, a Times Italic lowe case "r", the way you smile, nine more of whatever the last one was.

So a second biggest cause of stress, or something, is under way -- why didn't I got to a dentist in ten years? I apparently require more novocaine than your average bear, especially up top. But actually, my TWO two-hour long dental experiences in the last week (Friday and today) were fairly painless affairs, if you factor out the horrid classic light rock they play in the office. Friday -- left side. Today -- right side. Novocaine, hypersonic water-pik, raise my hand because there is still pain, novocaine, hypersonic water-pik, and then several grades of scraper, it would seem. Between scraperies I actually heard what sounded like sharpening of the scraper, which must be really cool in person. At today's appointment, I was told that the gums on the left are "healing nicely". In a month, back for a diagnostic and more scraping once the gums are back on track. And a week from Friday, an appointment for reconstruction -- put fillings in where fillings once were, etc.

At the Friday appointment, Beff came along, signed up as a new patient (why didn't she go t a dentist in ten years? Probably following my example) and predicted her needs wouldn't be as severe -- "I brush more often than you" -- and tooled around Sudbury and Wayland while I was being gouged. Left side of my jaw is still sore, and the mouth pain of which I earlier complained is, at least, less. Though in long days like yesterday there is still strange feelings therein. Hey, when talking or lecturing on Monday, I occasionally was made aware that with the plaque gouged out there is more air between some teeth, making "f'"s and "th"s feel a little tickly. Friday afternoon we brought Maynard Door and Window their lawn sign that they had left behind, then walked downtown to buy a ladder -- which we then walked home. And, as predicted, I got rid of the branch that's been scraping against the garage roof, and bungee corded two parts of the faux railing atop the front porch roof. Then we stored it. Dinner was ... tremendous.

Earlier in the week were the usual things, and teaching was fine. Students in orchestration got the lower brass info, and when I wrote down the instruments in band yesterday, I had to be corrected (I forgot CLARINETS! and SAXES!). And in Theory 2, the important of spelling is being laid out -- hence G-B-D-F wanting to resolve to C or C minor, and G-B-D-E# wanting to resolve to the cadential 6-4 in B minor -- and B-D-F-Ab wanting to go to C minor but B-D-F#-G# wanting to go to F# minor. Trickiness ensued, and several students feigned hyperventilating sounds as I went through all the diminished 7th chord stuff. Wait till they get to -- THE COMMON TONE DIMINISHED SEVENTH. Mwa ha ha. Composition lessons all are progressing rapidly, and prospective students get the tour when they ask.

For the weekend, Beff went to Vermont to help her sister with getting rid of some stuff from the condo, moving some to the summer place (in Vermont they call that the "camp", but the use is not sufficiently widespread that I say it here), and cataloguing books that are to be donated to Norwich University. It WAS noted that no siblings with Y chromosomes came along to help. Her drive up was delayed by leaf peepers in New Hampshire (named after Newek) and her drive back delayed by Lowell rush hour. Meanwhile, on Saturday Christy came to retrieve her trailor -- which has been under our pines since April -- and she took me out to breakfast at Babico's in Maynard. This was a particularly weird trip, since we walked there and Maynardfest was going on -- the downtown triangle closed off to traffic, booths selling cheap trashy stuff or high cholesterol entrees, and a little kiddie car train thing.

I then corrected and graded theory homework (which is phenomenally boring). I then remembered that the folks at Door and Window told us beer was starting at Maynardfest at 3:30 -- so at the appointed time, I walked to the Clock Tower parking lot, and encountered a popcorn machine and people holding styrofoam cups at Door and Window. They offered me some beer in a styrofoam cup, and had to ask only once. Meanwhile the owner said he could have gotten us a ladder at a wholesale price and we could go to him in the future. And more beer came out. Eventually I went to Maynardfest, procured two spicy pumpkin ales on draft, and brought them back -- whereupon I was asked how I got them out ("Walking," I said) -- they hoped I wouldn't get arrested. Busted for having beer in a plastic glass! In any case, more beer was drunk, and tipsiness caused me to return home. At which point I called Domino's for pizza and wings.

Sunday was more serious. It was a day of glorious weather, and occasionally I spent time on the hammock -- but when I did that, the neighbor's dog Molly came up for some lovin', or some bones, or whatever, and it was hard to get peace. So for most of the day I wrote music, interrupting myself only for hammock time or the raking of fallen pine needles (2 whole barrels worth, woo hoo, ka-ching). When I saw what I had done, I decided to do more of it -- eventually.

And then yesterday, even though it was Columbus Day, we did not have off, and I had been drafted to be on a public panel for a Brandeis Open House about the Brandeis academic experience -- so when asked, I said positive and true things about Brandeis. After which I did my usual teaching, followed by a dead hour and a half (and it was 80 out), followed by a small meeting that was as important as it was deadly boring. If I ever don't find these meetings deadly boring, somebody who reads this please come to my house and kick me until you stop.

I was finally contacted about performance dates for my piano quintet at Stony Brook -- which, given how long they've known about them, is pretty irresponsibly late. The dates are at the worst possible time -- just before I go to Kansas -- meaning the possibility of missing three straight theory classes and three straight orchestration classes -- not to mention the number of makeup composition lessons I'll have to give in December. Anyway, see on my Performances page. A prospect of a commission for another piece also showed up -- as in, performers and an amount were given -- and that certainly complicates the future. Will Davy really be able to goof off in Vermont next August?

Oh yeah, a little feature on me 'n' the Barlow has been written for the next Brandeis Reporter. I had to vet the information in it. And I still haven't thought at all about the Barlow piece. I will, Oscar, I will.

Meanwhile, no Sasquatch sightings this week. On the plus side, the Yankees were eliminated from the playoffs.

When I wrote last week, our bulkhead doors were finally being installed. When they were done, they went to the side porch roof to seal some cracks a little so the rain wouldn't leak through some wood, and they advised that that roof should be replaced with a rubber roof -- and that they could install it. We believed them, since Beff's dad told us years ago that we would need a rubber roof soon. I hope it's spongy. Anyway, we get the estimate any day now. Meanwhile, we tested the bulkhead doors on Friday, and couldn't open them. Yes, there is a latch underneath that needs to be released from the basement! Cool. And meanwhile, we also did the yearly thing of raking down the hostas in the front yard and shaving them down with the lawnmower. It was very outdoorsy.

Coming up this week -- Beff's dental appointment, and that's all I know about.

Today's pictures start with Christy's trailor as viewed from the computer room -- before and after. Then there is Molly, as viewed from the hammock, the new bulkhead doors, the current state of the Ben Smith dam, and our driveway maples as viewed from Taft Avenue.

OCTOBER 17. Breakfast this morning was the usual rice link sausages, orange juice and coffee. Dinner was chunky chicken noodle soup. Lunch was the garden salad from Shapiro coffee shop. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 30.2 and 70.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the slow movement of the Mozart clarinet concerto. LARGE EXPENSES this last week new cell phones for both of us, $49 for mine plus accessories, free for Beff plus accessories; and a rubber roof, $1621. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE:During the summer after my freshman year at college, I worked as a security guard for MSI, doing the graveyard shift at Jordan Marsh in Boston (now Macy's). At the time it occupied an old 1900-era building and a new one tacked on, and we had to do several nightly tours, turning keys in various key things around the building. I used to make free phone calls from the executive offices, toss light bulbs down staircases, and generally do stupid things during some of those tours. My colleagues would occasionally adjust clothing on mannequins pornographically. How we stayed hired is a mystery to me. One colleague always changed into a new shirt at the end of his shift, and later we found out they were all stolen. Years later, I ran into two of my bosses on the street, invited them over, and they stayed until 2 in the morning. My pay at the time was $2.45 an hour, and when the minimum wage went up to $2.60, the company actually advertised "15-cent per hour raise guaranteed after two weeks". THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Are there enough rhetorical questions in the world? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: pimlo. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF is the stiffness of my jaw. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are real lemonade and limeade, and pouch pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Root systems for the old crappola forsythias in back. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 4. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Compositions, Recordings (fixed links). NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is none. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 2. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 34 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Everybody can play "Martler". PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,880. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.17. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a way of describing the rain, the places we didn't look after we found it, the non-sticky beginning of a roll of scotch tape, the pickle nobody wanted.

Last week Martler had said something poetic about the speech thing, and silly stupid me, I forgot to mention it here. The speech was, as those of you who are rolling your eyes now know, a source of great stress -- even though it turns out I got a free glass vase out of it (it currently holds a stuffed bird). Martler also had to give a speech when he got his professorship, and he had similar stress issues. The quote goes something like: you put yourself on the line for your students week in and week out, and it's the bullshit occasions that make you sweat. I think I'll have that embroidered onto a pillow.

Beside the usual teaching, many things have happened this week, and, dear reader, you came to right place to find out about them. Say, on Wednesday night it rained so hard that water got into the basement, and that's just for starters. After the rain ended, it was slightly drizzly and pleasant in the morning, and whoomp! there it was -- sounds of people just outside the bedroom window. It turned out that the tar roof we had over the side porch was, if you will, in its last throes -- and some wood was getting stained by rain water because the gutter didn't handle it, etc., and years ago Beff's dad looked at it and recommended we put a rubber roof over it. So there they were -- a bunch of whitish panels that I assume were the foundation of the rubber roof (the estimate said "felt" was going underneath). The usual gang from MD&W were working, and I had to aim around the truck when I left for work -- thus backing into traffic for the first time in years. When I got back, there was a new edging and a black roof, all better. I haven't walked on it yet -- would you?

And then that night Beff got in late, as she left late, and the next morning she went to the dentist for her first appointment in 12 years. While she was under the lights, I went to Trader Joe's, Whole Foods, and Sudbury Farms, and came back and had to wait another 45 minutes -- during which time I read in Forbes magazine that cheap oil is coming back -- and we came home at around noon. Beff had to make appointments for future work, and December was the first time both she and the dentist could get it together. As to me, I go in this Friday for a few fillings. Meantime, my jaw is still rather stiff, either from my appointments, or from some version of the cold or flu that has been making the rounds at Brandeis. Somehow when I get into the classroom, I do fine and don't notice.

I spent most of the weekend finishing a piece, and in the interim times that I always need in order not to become Wild Guy, I started taking out fairly substantial trunk systems from the overgrown area in the back yard -- and for that I used a shovel. I also raked pine needles in the back yard, as it seems that most of them that are going to fall have fallen -- at least there aren't many brown ones left on the pine trees. I decided to create a bit of yard-art, raking a checkerboard area. Why? If I have to explain it, I won't be eligible for the grant. This morning I raked more but have not yet disposed of the piles of needles -- but 4 barrels are so far outta there.

During my copying time on Saturday, Beff nosed around the Verizon wireless site, noting that Bangor seems to have passable digital service now (and all analog is going away by the end of next year anyway), so she found that the phone I craved -- the VG Chocolate ('cause it has mp3 ring tones, etc.) is but 49 bucks online with a service contract, and the Razor -- which Beff's sister has -- is free. So we established our online accounts (the passwords came as text messages to our existing phones -- cute) and ordered new phones. According to e-mails we received, they will be delivered tomorrow evening. And then we'll never hear the end of it. My greatest desire, of course, is to play examples for my classes on my phone. Because then I can write about it here.

We also finally downgraded our cable package. We had kept HBO and Showtime for the various shows we watched, but as to Showtime, Weeds jumped the shark -- we had taken dinner to the living room and started watching, and 5 minutes in had to stop. So I called and downgraded, and we now pay half as much and still get to watch the Daily Show and Project Runway -- the only two shows we watch with any frequency anyway.

Scheduling for my two pieces from Yaddo being premiered next month got really hard, then much easier. Apparently the Kansas gig is being moved up because a makeup basketball game was scheduled the same night as the concert, and that guaranteed zero attendance, so it's going a little later. And the Stony Brook performances -- little did I know -- are not Wednesday and Friday, but Thursday and Saturday. Which makes it much easier not to miss too much teaching, and certainly means I don't need to get substitutes for theory (big relief there). In any case, it's the midwest, and that means that one week it was 100 degrees, and the next week there was snow.

We also took our accustomed weekend walks, noting the foliage in the sunniness, and it was good. I even used a camera to (shudder) document what we saw.

I was approached by a rock band (The Electric Kompany, has a page on My Space) with oodles of technique to write for them, and when I said I was interested though I couldn't figure out when I would get the time, they responded that they hoped for a piece for rock band and orchestra. Hmm. Very interesting idea, the kind of challenge that I like -- even though any critic will presume the piece is "making a statement about the intersection of high art and low art". The only intersection I care about is Sunset and Camden, because you can name your cats by it. Meanwhile, a group in New Brunswick -- the one in Canada -- is doing Beff's cat piece three times in January.

And we still love Inko's tea. Just in case Alex (of Inko's) is googling it. Though we can't get it at Trader Joe's or BJ's any more.

Beff had brought back a little table from her dad's condo, and it has been installed right by the front door. I predicted not long before it gets covered with clutter, but so far all that's there is the glass vase with the stuffed bird, and, in the drawer, our stamps and T passes. You will, Oscar, you will.

With the new addition (you might find it on Compositions), my output for 2006 is very likely complete -- unless I feel unusually good in December. To recap, 2006 witnessed the birth or completion of:

6 piano etudes (22 min)

3 hand drum pieces (10 min)

solo bass clarinet piece (6 min)

piano concerto (33 min)

piano quintet (14 min)

piece for fl/picc and two pianos (10 min)

TOTAL 95 minutes (I rule)

I did that to take up space. I always prefer the text to go on longer than the links on the left.

Upcoming: large rainstorm approaching for later today, dentist appointment, rakage, Faculty Senate meeting, Curriculum meeting, Collage concert with Judy Bettina doing "The Head of the Bed" (Judy's description of the voice part: a quarter rest is a siesta; a half rest is a whole vacation; a whole bar rest is a summer vacation -- those are metaphors, for those of you taking notes). Don't know if we will go, but since Collage wants me to write for her and them together, there may be a requirement.

This week's pictures begin with costumed folks at the door of St. Bridget's Catholic Church as we passed it on our walk. Followed by the only available photographic evidence of my raking art in the back yard (Pawn to Queen's four). The other six shots are various foliage shots from our walks.

OCTOBER 24. Breakfast this morning was the usual rice link sausages, orange juice and coffee. Dinner was pizza slices from the music major meeting. Lunch was a garden salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 31.6 and 68.9. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the "birds" movement, with children's chorus, of Mahler's 3rd. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include a new rug from Pier One for the computer room, $80, new small rug and various others for downstairs at Target, $60. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE:The house on Messenger Street in St. Albans had a pretty long back yard, going downhill, and west, for quite a ways. The lot to our north was considered too small to build on, so it was a long, somewhat narrow grassy field we played in a lot, and occasionally sledded in (but only when there was snow). We had a regular back yard with a sandbox and swingset, interrupted by a large garden area with raspberries and blueberry bushes, and a "way back" yard, where we as kids often played little games of baseball or softball or football. There was also a small area of foresty stuff with poison ivy -- which I found out does not affect me. When we grew too old (and/or large) for the way back yard to be a baseball diamond (it wasn't that big), my father started keeping bees and making "organic" honey. So we owned a hot knife. This of course made it less desirable to be the one mowing the way back yard. I found out years later that the raspberry bushes were pilfered from a vacant lot nearby and planted in lovely rows -- and one of my more egregious chores in the summer was picking a pint of them for dinner. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Is Iran between Iraq and Ihardplace? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: arnce. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF is the stiffness of my jaw, still. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are garlic mash and pouch pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK The real source of all this dental stuff. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 7. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS THIS SEMESTER SO FAR: 4. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is none. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 5 (Rome Prize season). DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 31 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Katie Couric who? PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,882. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.13. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE insouicance, misdirected animosity, multisyllabism, a found object with a hole in it..

First, a silly report from the field from weeks ago. After a brief conversation in the car with Beff about sound manipulation software, there was a slight pause, and Beff asked, "Have you tried Audacity?" Another brief pause as we considered how the question would sound out of context. Then gales of laughter as I said, "No, I thought righteous indignation would be enough".Actually, that's esprit d'escalier -- what I really said was, "No, all I had was refrigeration". But that's not as funny.

Two of this week's larger topics will be mind-numbingly and eye-rollingly familiar to those of you in the low two figures: raking, and dentistry. So I'll start with something else: cell phones. Our new cell phones arrived, we charged and activated them, and started using them. Beff has the Motorola RAZR and I have the VG Chocolate. Beff seems to have gotten the better end of the deal, even though on the surface hers is less deluxe. Let me contextualize (because it is what I do so well).

Beff got to Maynard a day late, since she left a day late, and that meant having to make the weekend orgy of togetherness and couple-osity even more intense than usual. A brief inspection revealed that the 6-year-old rug in the computer room had been rattinessed to its limit by years of cat scratching and playing with the edges (a favorite game is taking the cap of a milk carton and placing it under something and batting it around). So it was resolved that after breakfast would be a trip into the bowel area of South Acton, Great Road, for the especiale beer store, Pier One, Trader Joes, and Staples. During breakfast, Beff activated her new phone, which I had charged for her, and started discovering features -- though now having cursor keys in addition to everything else steepened the learning curve. I actually challenged Beff to find a weather report with her phone, but it took until later and a disquisition on cursor keys for that to happen -- by that time we were IN the weather, so a report had redundancy written all over it written.

Beff started transferring her phone book (manually) while we were in the car, while I was amused at the learning curve. We got some of Beff's weird French style beer that she likes and I don't, and some experimental beers, then hopped over to Staples, where we got packing tape (more on that later) and I got another flash drive for the office (so students would stop e-mailing me their Finale files from the grad office down the hall). At Trader Joes we got what we needed, including a whole mess of microwave non-frozen oriental noodles (alas, no salmon burger patties!), and then went to Pier One to find a new rug for the computer room. The guy who waited on us seemed SO much like Actor Guy (or My Sales Job Is Only Temporary So I Can Take Auditions Guy (except this is Acton)), who very, very, very enthusiastically got us the rug we craved. From there we went over to O'Naturals for lunch, where Beff had the Alaska and I had the Buffalo. At lunch we finally got a chance to compare cell phone features. Beff recorded me saying "Hello, it's me!", and among her options was "Save As Ringtone". So now when I call her cell phone, she gets my voice saying that over and over. Very cute (even when we're 80 we'll think that's cute -- and I'm only the opus number of Dichterliebe now).

So I recorded Beff saying "Davy? Davy? Davy?" and can report that "Save As Ringtone" was NOT among my phone's options. I did have the mysterious "Save to MyPix" command, though, which mysteriously activated the browsing portion of my phone. I cancelled the upload. So Beff exuded superiority as she had a new Ringtone of her own making and I had ... a sound in "My Sounds" on my phone. Back to this mundanity later.

On the way back we stopped at the hardware store for rug tape and outdoor latex paint -- as with the new rubber roof, the stained portion of the wood by the roof is no longer getting water on it, and needed cover before it decayed. So there. I also got sandpaper to scrape off the old paint. Which, when we got home, I did, after getting out the new ladder. So I sanded and painted the edging near the roof, and also scraped and painted the large board under the porch door, which is already showing signs of rot (imagine brushing your teeth and they simply fall out -- it was that sensation). And then I washed up. Also that morning and afternoon we raked the front yard clean of leaves, as both front yard maples have emptied,and Beff did Round One of raking the voluminous leaves out of the driveway. And we also replaced the computer room rug, discovering no fewer than six cat toys underneath the old one.

Later that afternoon Beff looked at the little rug near the alcove -- 2 feet by 5 feet -- which no longer was staying clamped down, and was getting messed up every day by the cats playing, and she decided to make a trip to K-Mart for a new one. While she was gone, I revisited My Sounds on my phone to see what uploading to "My Pix" would do. It brought my "Davy? Davy? Davy?" file to an area of Verizon Web that required me to register and make up a password, which I did. It text-messaged me a password (thankfully giving me the option for my phone to remember me), and that password was so complicated I had to switch back and forth from letter entery to number entry mode several times. And finally, I found out that I had a free space there with 75 slots, and "Davy? Davy? Davy?" was in one of them (It had a name something like "109388749"). For the halibut, I chose the "send to my phone" option, and a screen came up telling me I had a new message. Among the options for the new message was "Save as Ringtone". Yes! So now I can do in five steps (record/upload/log in/send message/retrieve and save as ringtone) with my phone what Beff can do in one. And of course we know why it is so hard on the Chocolate: Verizon prefers that you buy ringtones, not make your own. I mean, duh. But despite Verizon's machinations to make me buy their stuff, now when Beff calls my cell phone, it goes, "Davy? Davy? Davy?" I SO want to be in a faculty senate meeting when she calls my cell....

Meanwhile, I am happy to report that the Chocolate phone is also an mp3/wma music player, and by following directions scrupulously and having to use Windows Media Player, I was able to get ripped tracks to play on my phone with a ten percent success rate. No long exegesis here, just a little note that most of the tracks I ripped either did not copy to the phone, or when they were played they hung the phone, causing it to reboot after a minute and a half. Meanwhile, I did get all my contacts updated to the new phone, and there was a delightful and delicious little triage of old numbers no longer needed.

Another aspect of Saturday was sending the second toy piano -- which turned out to be defective, I had toyed with keeping in my office, but it kept not working properly -- back to the manufacturer, and that included a mandatory note as to what was wrong with the piano. In addition to "1) I cancelled the order and was sent the piano anyway" I had five more numbered items. I am, if anything, thorough. Beff packed it up, and I had been sent a label with prepaid UPS shipping. Hence the need to go to Staples to drop it off. And we had no packing tape -- hence the packing tape thing.

Sunday featured yet more raking -- getting halfway up the driveway, part one, and the third go through the back yard, as the pine needles just keep on coming -- and painting of windowsills around the house. Beff called me Productive Guy that day, but I don't know why. Beff's trip to K-Mart had yielded nothing, so we went to Target, down in Framingham, Sunday morning for the new rug, and of course we got other stuff, including kitty treats, cold medicine, and Kleenex. Beff came down with considerable cold symptoms on Sunday morning, so our planned outing for Collage didn't happen. Instead, of course, we stayed at home, and I made pesto pasta for dinner. We took the scenic way home around Boon Lake from Target, by the way, where I took this week's only picture of a "Tree On Fire". At least the camera takes nice pictures. And oh -- I took a little video of me playing the toy piano and e-mailed it to Martler. While I was at it, I recorded a lick from "Purple Haze" on the toy piano and made it my ringtone for when Amy D or Marilyn Nonken call my cellphone. Which so far in my life has been never.

So to sum up: two new rugs. I haven't been counting, but about thirty or so barrels of leaves raked and discarded. New painted wood. And colds. I also had flu symptoms on Wednesday, which caused me to stay home, and move my Wednesday students to Thursday. As to music theory, that moved the syllabus to the right by one, and also meaning that the unit on chorale writing will be shortened by one. I should get more flus.

Friday morning was dental day, yet again (I have at least two more before the end of the term). I came in with complaints of continuing stiff jaw and teeth that seemed to move a bit, etc., and the dentist finally had a firm diagnosis: unbeknownst to me for the opus number of Dichterliebe years, I grind my teeth in my sleep. Evidence: moving teeth especially in the morning, and an extremely even bite line. Meaning what you think it means. So as a solution, the dentist said that after the upper reconstruction was done, she would get me a "Nygar". I presumed it was a brand name for something, and I didn't mention yet that the dentist is Chinese with a lingering accent. A few minutes of context revealed that she was talking about a "Night Guard" designed to stop the grinding. Since I never had a retainer when I was a kid, I relish the idea of playing catchup at the age of opus number of Dichterliebe years. Friday's job was three new fillings, upper left, and observe as feeling comes back to the mouth over the course of the afternoon. For about half an hour if you had asked me to say "President", I would have said "Pwesident". The new fillings made my bite less even and -- get this -- harder for me to grind my teeth. I have, since Friday, started noticing how tense the muscles in mouth are, and -- why didn't I think of this before? -- relaxing them. Alas, when the default setting is tense, I have to actually remember to switch to manual to relax them. And to blatantly split infinitives.

Monday's teaching was as it ever was, and I had a few zingers that are going into one student's Funny Things the Faculty Say book. Common tone diminished seventh and the scwewy way the textbook has them notate that ("cto7") was among the day's offerings, as was writing for violins in orchestration. And it was one of those kinds of days I hate to have: a Drive To Work In The Dark And Drive Home In the Dark day. Much more common in the cold months, of course. While at school I discovered that the new Brandeis Reporter (a monthly publication) has the Barlow story and my picture on the front page. The picture is the crapful one on my Brandeis web page, so I spent some time adding moustaches and diabolical eyebrows to my picture on however many copies I had time for. I gave a signed copy of one of them to the Provost's secretary.

A raking party with the Ka-Ching Twins looks like it won't happen, due to schedule difficulties, but a raking party with at least one of them looks pretty certain. Alas, I am a Guest Sneaker on a Composers in Red Sneakers concert on the 4th, so the likelihood of much wevelwy after waking seems remote. But the raking is a sure thing.

Judah Adashi from Yaddo (say that five times fast) e-mailed a little while ago to remind me that I have put words to Mel Torme's Christmas Song that teach intervals (this started when I was a grad student, as I remember Kathy Dupuy singing it back to me), and he wanted them because he teaches ear training in Baltimore (the detail about the location was gratuitous, but, well, there you have it). So here they are, you lucky low two figures:

(VERSE) Octaves roasting on an open fire.

Major sixths nipping at your nose.

Major seconds being sung by a choir,

Chromatic alterations of the scale.

Diatonic Scale

(VERSE) A turkey and some mistletoe.

Major sixths make the season bright.

Major seconds with their eyes all aglow

Will find it hard to sleep tonight.

(BRIDGE) There's minor sevenths on their way.

They've loaded lots of toys and goodies on their sleigh.

And every minor sixth will want to spy

To see if reindeer really know how to fly.

(VERSE) And octaves offering this simple phrase

To major sixths one to ninety-two.

Although it's been said many times, many ways,

Meet the Flintstones

To you.

I have also made my plans for the upcoming November traveling to performances -- including Stony Brook and NYC for the 8th through 11th, and Kansas City for the 14th through the 18th. Turns out Geoffy will be a housesitter while I'm in Kansas, and the kitties will be in Bangor. Life is like that. I stay with Jay and Marilyn the 10th and 11th, and deliver the toy piano. Airfare -- about $220, and I have one-stop no-plane-change flights the pass through Milwaukee. Meanwhile, my next dentistry is November 2 -- upper right, and Night Guard fitting.

Oh yeah, and Geoffy weighed in with a variant of the Oedipus joke from my speech. Turns out -- there's no "I" in "Homer". No points for adding, "well, no USEABLE 'I'".

Today's menu: a boatload of grading. This week's activities: raking, and the Irving Fine concert Sunday afternoon. This week's only picture is a maple tree we passed while returning from Target on Sunday morning.

HALLOWEEN. Breakfast this morning was the usual rice link sausages, orange juice and coffee. Dinner was Buffalo wings from Neighborhood Pizzeria. Lunch was a garden salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 28.8 and 62.6. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Chaka Khan's "Be-Bop Medley" LARGE EXPENSES this last week include Symphony tickets, $30, a pair of Edirol R-09 digital recorders from Parsons Audio, $733 including tax, data cards for digital recording, $210, and pending tree removal costs later today, $490. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I was singing in the concert of the chorus my senior year of high school, and the song was "Fum, fum, fum." Somehow Christmas tends to bring out the nonsense syllables in all of us, fa la la. At one particularly emphasized passage, my voice broke kind of dramatically, and I smiled real broadly, almost laughing, and this seems to have caught fire around the whole chorus. By the end of the song, everyone was on the verge of riotous laughter, though most admitted they didn't know why. On the previous year's chorus concert, Todd Leadbeater -- not a musician, but recently discovered he had a nice voice -- was given the solo for "The Holly and the Ivy" (no nonsense syllables in that one), and at the concert itself, instead of singing the melody for his solo, he sang one of the inner parts from earlier in the tune. That made me smile, too. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Why can't I see wind? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: ploof. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are straw men on New Music Box. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are Bubbie's pickles, chili olives from Whole Foods, and celery sticks with Buffalo wing sauce. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Lots of rot in the innards of our former big ailanthus tree. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 8. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Recordings. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS THIS SEMESTER SO FAR: 4. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is none, but their "catnip pillow" is taking a beating. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 4 (Rome Prize season continues). DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 39 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Republicans stop using Abe Lincoln as an example of their compassion. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,915. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.13. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE Ted's baseball cap, that one no the one behind it, fly fishing bait, a reduced flow due to drought.

This week originally had "skip the update for a week, nothing happened" written all over it -- unless stories of raking are your cup of tea (they are most certainly my cup of tea), but then this silly storm cranked up over New England, brought pounding rain (on another day I would have said "driving" rain, but that's just me) for a day, and big winds for three days. That by itself is not news, but the result of the big winds is -- especially as it interfered somewhat with my Monday teaching day.

With the clocks turned back an hour, it is now light again when I leave for work (6:15 am), so I was able to see this when I stepped out my door on Monday morning (this pic was taken with the cell phone):

Decoupage

Of course the first thing I thought was -- as soon as I get back from work, I'll take the hacksaw out and cart the pieces to the discard pile. Then the little buzzer ("the judges have flagged that statement for spurious and frankly silly reasoning") went off in my head, informing me that I had to call in professionals to do the job. Especially since when I looked at the pictures I had taken with my phone (I can take pictures with my phone), the size of the trunk seemed a bit -- vast -- and a little bit more than my hacksaw could manage. So I brought various yellow pages's to school and looked up TREE companies, and the selection is a bit vague and vast at the same time. One wonders what sort of aspersions are meant to be cast on OTHER tree companies when one of them advertises "phone calls handled by our own staff!" and another advertises "24 hour service" right next to "we actually return your phone calls". My experience with trying to get a plumber several years ago colored this experience -- as none of the local ones bothered to return calls -- and also my experience with roofers (you probably already guessed that they didn't return phone calls either, but add to that that the one that did provided a quote and promised to come on a particular day to do the work and never showed up and never called to say why).

So I called our friends at the Door & Window for their advice, and they recommended Assabet Tree Service -- the only one right in Maynard. They actually called back while I was teaching theory (I didn't hear it), and sent guys over to look at the thing just before sunset (it's early now). First the guys spun a story about how they trimmed the giant oak tree in the neighbor's yard in the early 70s, and how a previous owner of the house had a bad bicycle accident out front on Great Road and they were the ones that rushed him to the hospital, and one of the guys noted how much ugly rot there was in the trunk of the fallen tree. I noted that I always hated that ailanthus tree -- it once yielded a big branch in a thunderstorm in the summer of 2001 that I had to take a day off from MacDowell to clear out, and that I took great pleasure in killing all of its babies. Looks like it had its revenge. Or maybe all the baby killing caused its innards to rot from self-pity. Who knows?

Anyway, there is a cousin tree that sprouted up in the midst of our cedar trees in the back that I also asked them to remove. I hate paying for the sins of previous owners, but, hey, there you have it. Whether they actually show up today to do the job remains to be seen, but hey, they came right over.

The rest of the posting will be the mundane stuff -- though there were two excellent concerts to report. Saturday night after the driving rain had ended but the wind was still a-kickin', we went to symphony to hear the BSO and Tanglewood chorus do Schoenberg's Moses und Aron. We had "partial view" seats in the second balcony (hey, thirty bucks each) and I got a little sore neck from craning it in the first act, but we switched seats for the second act, and that was better. The performance was marvelous, though the first two scenes were kind of rough around the edges, and the music was great -- except, again, for the first two scenes. Beff remarked that there are lots of great orchestrational ideas that appear ONCE, followed by lots of what Marty B. calls "spinach" -- lots of extra counterpoint -- and lots of times when all the registers are active, which makes for a feeling of tremendousness. One left with the feeling that it was really great music that deserves lots more performances. One also wonders if any humans that ever existed would be able to last through an entire performance if Schoenberg had ever written the third act. Lots of tuba, by the way. That is neither good nor bad.

Sunday afternoon was the annual Irving Fine concert, and this year it also doubled as a celebration of Marty Boykan at 75. It was an interesting pairing, and based on the music performed, Marty is the great composer and Fine was a lightweight. Much of the Fine was, frankly, dreary, and when it wasn't it was extremely light -- as in the Music for Piano suite. By the way, that same Fine piece was on the previous Fine concert, so redundancy was there to be had. As to Marty's music, there was a new motet for singer, viola, cello and clarinet, and it was terrific -- even tonal at times, and a new piano trio that I liked, but not as much as the motet. The students in orchestration class really liked the trio, even asking how the high violin note at the end was produced, and that led to my session on how harmonics work on string instruments, which I demonstrated on a piano string while they all gathered around.

I also really liked Professor Boykan's Shakespeare songs for 3 voices a cappella, which were real nifty in addition to being beautiful. In the program note, Marty appeared to apologize for setting the words "Cock a doodle doo", but hey, it's Shakespeare. Add to this a set of songs for voice and piano which were very good, but -- since I have to have a least favorite, that was the one -- and Boykan pretty much pounded Fine right into the ground. Which is too bad. Especially since I was sitting right in back of a sector of the Fine family. I was also sitting, just like ducks in a row, with Dalit Warshaw, Peter Child, Yu-Hui Chang, and Jim Ricci (the non-Sasquatch version). Afterwards there was a reception where the food compensated for its quality with its quantity.

Beff's time in Maynard was, again, abbreviated, but this time toward the tail end. She made it in late on Thursday evening, and had to exit after breakfast on Sunday in order to do various prep things and lead a sectional rehearsal -- as well as go to an afternoon concert. The previous weekend we were looking at reviews in Mac Addict, and started drooling over a review of the Edirol R-09, and small iPod sized digital recorder -- which got raves. It was reputed to record mp3 and 16/24 bit WAV files, all onto flash memory. Meaning, at last, no DAT tape to get caught in the bowels of the recorder, no special setup with an 838 to get the recorded files on the computer, and a solid state recording mechanism meaning no tape drive noise and -- built-in microphones. How much would YOU pay? I called up Rick Scott at Parsons Audio to ask what he knew about the market for hand-held recording devices of this sort, and he offered to lend me an Edirol and an M-Wave model. So after my dull meeting at Brandeis, I drove there, got the goods, and brought them home.

Sunday morning after breakfast, we compared features, and decided to ask Rick to order us two Edirols. He said he had them in stock, and we decided to come right on by -- after our big walk downtown and our lunch at the Quarterdeck (I got the grilled salmon). They were far cheaper than expected -- and I popped right on over to Staples for some SD cards onto which to record, and SD cards were two-thirds off that day. Yes, the 1 gig was 20 bucks and the 2 gig was 40 bucks not bad considering they are endlessly reusable, and a gig holds 88 minutes of 16-bit stereo sound. So I got a whole mess o' them. I also got a little camera bag to carry it around, but it turns out it's a bit small. Beff got a bigger one online, and we'll see Oscar, we'll see.

And, big relief to all readers, there is nothing new to report on the dental front. Except to report new fillings expected on Thursday.

An internet surf reveals that Jim and Judy's late 20th century American song CD on Bridge is imminent -- catalog number 9199, on the Bridge web page, and slated for November -- and is renamed "Songs and Encores". Much catchier than the original "Late Twentieth Century American Song". And then yesterday I got what is apparently my ONE comp of Michael Lipsey's hand drum CD on Capstone, which has two movements from Snaggle on it -- see Recordings page. Michael's CD is pretty cool, definitely a car CD, even a convertible car CD. Maybe I'll buy a convertible just so I can listen to this CD in it.

Anyway, all else is as it appears. Mondo traveling for performances is coming up -- NYC and Kansas City being among them -- so maybe there will be fewer updates here. The future holds big raking day with Ka-Ching twin CD on Saturday, the evening of which features me as a guest sneaker (or hopefully a geist sneaker). And then they won't laugh.

This weeks pictures include Symphony Hall as seen by my phone, the cats being cute, the cats being cute again, the still-leafy oak tree that was trimmed in the early 70s, Cammy trolling for squirrels (note that the ailanthus is still upright in this picture), a reflection of foliage on my car at the Cumberland Farms gas station, and two more perspectives on the fallen tree.

NOVEMBER 7. Breakfast this morning was the usual rice link sausages, orange juice and coffee. Dinner was an Amy's frozen tomato and four cheese pizza, heated up. Lunch was Trader Joes Kung Po noodles. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 24.8 and 67.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Ein Feste Burg ist Unsre Gott (chorale harmonization time in theory, people). LARGE EXPENSES this last week are none, yet. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: A few vignettes from the year in Rome: Robert Cro and I went to an electronics store on the Lungotevere to buy boomboxes for ourselves, and I was impressed to hear him utter "possiamo", the first person plural of "can we". My boombox became a social center for Tuesday dance parties in my various studios, and the highlight was always when John Kamitsuka danced. In February, an architecture Fellow brought a family friend to visit my studio -- a very tall woman and a guy. I did a little piano blues with the guy, while the woman seemed stuck in perpetual bummed outness. The woman was Famke Janssen, who was in Rome publicizing the latest James Bond movie, and the guy was her publicist. And now Famke is famous. In June, after an AAR concert that was on my birthday on which Soozie sang, we stayed up a long time while Soozie played pool and bonded with my best friend there, a Doctor Rutherford. Now it turns out these many years later that Soozie and Dr. R are a genuine item. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Why do slowing up and slowing down mean the same thing? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: crantle. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are robo-calls -- political messages left on my answering machine. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are chili olives from Whole Foods. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK When a bush becomes half a bush. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 2. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS THIS SEMESTER SO FAR: 5. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is another one of my morning pills. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 3 (Rome Prize season was extended this year). DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 12 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: everybody speaks with a Brooklyn accent. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,932. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.13. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a hustle and flow, the hair on my chinny chin chin, purpleness, carpal tunnel syndrome.

It was a fairly active week, and it's only going to get activer and activer. Indeed, there will be no November 14 update, and the November 21 update will be a little late. Perhaps not until Thanksgiving. Oh, lawdy.

But first to dispense with the mundane. Thursday featured me teaching Peter and Derek in my office, a drive west to Dr. Chau's office, and me keeping my mouth open for two hours. Hey, last time I got something to bite on to keep my mouth open, but this time I guess they thought I should go au natural -- in terms of the being of mouth openness. For them what are keeping score -- as I do above -- this was my fifth visit this term, and this time it was upper right time. I got something I wasn't expecting -- dental bonding on my chipped front tooth, which now feels weird, since it's fixed, AND smooth at the bite line. Then, three new fillings to replace the ones that fell out and still had residual epoxy. Eww.

I have to say, though, slowly it's getting better. Slowly.

After the dentist I had to hightail it to Brandeis for a colloquium by Fran Richard of ASCAP, which was really quite good. I was 25 minutes late, but there she was, seated at a chair, going over all the mundane professional stuff that composers need to know, and pulling out lots of great stories. Names got dropped casually in service of stories about performing rights (if you can believe that), and it was all fascinating. Then there was the reception, Fran called me such a good composer, and left. No free dinner, which I wouldn't have gone to anyway due to the strangeness of the feeling of my new bonding.

Tuesday had featured quite a bit of raking on my part, especially as The Maids were supposed to come and clean, and they were very late. They showed up at quarter to five, which was dusk, and to get out of their way, I raked the side yard. And raked. And raked. Then I raked in the back yard. And raked. It had turned out that the tree people didn't come on Tuesday, so I could only rake to the tree line, as it were, but it was good to get it out of the way. What else did I do Tuesday? Lots of grading.

On Wednesday the tree finally got taken care of, leaving a shallow trench where it had fallen, and the tree guys left some ruts with their big truck and wood chipper -- and they didn't quite finish the job before it got dark. The big ailanthus is gone, the other ailunthus was felled but not complete disposed of, and the trunk is not yet ground (grinded?). The guys were still here when I got home from work, one of them asked for a drink, and when I had to admit that I teach music, he got into stories about his guitars, and former girlfriends that took them with them.

Friday was our usual day of togetherness, that wife o' mine and me, and we did our usual errands and shopping. We probably won't accumulate enough Shaw's "turkey points" for a free turkey, but that is okay. The end of the day was long, as it included going to the BMOP concert and the reception thereafter at the Westin Hotel -- so we drove in via the turnpike and parked at the Prudential Center in a vast underground network -- vast enough to make Beff regret the clacky shoes she chose for the occasion. We budgeted extra time, since it was rush hour on a Friday, and were able to get a small meal at Betty's Wok and Noodle, in the space that was Ann's Restaurant during my undergrad years (99 cents for a burger and fries, and now I really feel old), and we made it in plenty of time for the concert.

The program for BMOP was reusable -- as in, the January program and program notes were in it as well as the ones for this concert, and at the staple were the notes for my Winged Contraption. Including quotes from this webpage (me talking about myself, alas -- I have to start charging for people to use them) and from my hastily scrawled notes on the piece. Crap, I used "I decided" three times in the same paragraph. Where's an editor when you really need one? I was astonished, however, to learn that I am "one of the most exuberant and popular personalities on Boston's new music scene". I had no idea. The concert itself, seemed to be the Downward Glissando concert -- if your piece didn't have them, you couldn't join the club. The performances were excellent. We hooked up with the Hyla team for the reception, which was the usual standing around wondering who everybody else there is, with the desperate search for food that turns out to be tiny, and sectioned. In the walk to the reception, Beff continued to regret her shoeware choice. The drive back was effortless, though the exit from the parking garage was in a no man's land that took some effort for us to get out of.

The day of Saturday was Raking Party day, and the JP sector of the Ka-Ching Twins came out for the occasion. We raked all of the way back and the side yard, and Carolyn (ka-ching!) had herself photographed with a piece of ailanthus that is shaped like a lute, and forgot to send it in time for this update. For shame. We then decided to try the new restaurant called Christopher's in Maynard, where Malcom's Steakhouse failed dismally, but they weren't open for lunch -- talk about failing dismally. So instead it was Not Your Average Joe's in Acton, followed by a brief trip to TJ Maxx. Then it was off the the Red Sneakers Concert in Cambridge. Sigh.

And this involved driving to Alewife, walking from Porter Square in the coldness, getting to the concert, listening to a bunch of pieces, seeing a whole bunch of Brandisians (I think we had a quorum -- we could have voted anybody off the concert), and even Ken Ueno. Who was briefly in town, from Rome, for a board meeting and something to do with lectures and presentations in Miami. Don Hagar was also a "Guest Sneaker" (I already used the "Geist Sneaker" joke last week, so I won't use it again this week, except to point out how clever I am for having thought of it). My teeny-weeny piece got a bang-up performance. My favorite piece (not necessarily Beff's) was the second movement of Lansing McLoskey's piece. And then we went back home.

Sunday Beff left early in order to rake the Bangor yard, and I spent most of the day preparing the next three weeks' worth of teaching -- chorale harmonizations, etc. It's amazing how many things have to be codified as "rules" to keep your basic student from just doing dumb stuff. And Monday was a normal teaching day, though since I was introducing percussion in Orchestration, there was lots of stuff to talk about. For the first time I tried doing the Trader Joe's Kung Po noodles as my lunch, and I was successful.

Meanwhile, it's time to solicit house/cat sitters for the two weeks that follow Christmas, so anyone reading this can step up to the plate ... now! Beff 'n' I will be in England, Wales and Scotland, and you won't. Unless you are.

Meanwhile. This Thursday I go to Stony Brook, and so far I haven't the foggiest idea where to go once I get there. I will also stay with the Jay/Marilyn couplet in NYC, as I am delivering to Marilyn a toy piano for future use. And Saturday night at the Tenri Center is the second performance of the aptly named Disparate Measures. If that ain't enough, I then leave for Kansas, via Milwaukee, next Tuesday. My goodness, and goodness had nothing to do with it. Once I get back it will be almost Thanksgiving, and time to think about turkeys, and a convocation of all of Beff's siblings. Yes, I get to watch those mini-dramas unfold yet again. While I am in Kansas, Beff will be in Vermont, helping to empty the condo of stuff, and also bringing books being donated to Norwich University. Gee, you think if they really wanted the books, they'd come and get them themselves, but no -- Beff actually is renting a cargo van in Maynard and driving it there and back. I fully expect some new furniture out of this whole deal. And there's more -- while I'm in Kansas, Geoffy is here for Musica Viva (officially the Group That Doesn't Know How Exuberant and Popular Davy Is), so catsitting is taken care of.

And what else? After Thanksgiving is just a week and a day of classes. At the end of the tunnel, there is heavy.

I have not been keeping track of how many barrels of leaves have been raked and moved, but I estimate 70 to 80, and the mini-yard in the back of the garage still awaits the oak tree to yield the rest of its issue. The big wind storm that knocked down the ailanthus likely blew a few barrels worth of leaves away, then.

Pictures this week are really dull, so I'm instituting a Blast From the Past feature. Which may only last for one update as far as I know. We see the backyard with the tree cleared out and the bush that's now half a bush -- a larger view from the way back yard -- the stump as it exists now -- and the place where we put the raked leaves in the way back yard. Then there is Martler at a garden statue shop in 1988, and a lion at the Piazza di Popolo in Rome that Beff uses as an example of clarinet embouchure.

NOVEMBER 20. Breakfast this morning was coffee from McDonald's. Lunch was a little box of Kung Po noodles from Trader Joe's. Dinner was Chunky Grilled Chicken soup with salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 34.5 and 67.8. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Absofunkinlutely. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include dinner and Corsendonks with Jay and Marilyn, $149, lunch with Hayes, $40, lunch with Marilyn, $55. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Back in our Princeton grad student days, Andy Milburn had a Commodore 64 with a voice synthesis program -- pretty primitive by today's standards. We delighted in attaching it to the TV and making it say things in its ... well, robotic ... voice. We played a game with Martler and Alison where we would type things with numbers in them to hear the computer pronounce them: 4nik8, qui9, 6ual, etc. -- and Alison topped us all with 0ber took my jewels (zero-bber took my jewels, think French accent). Eventually we recorded our answering machine message using this thing, which included the robotically spoken phrases "Davy is bouncing on his bed. Martin is doing limey things". Paul Lansky thought it was so funny that he used to call us just to hear the message -- and then he would leave a message saying, "Oh, it's Lansky again. I just called to hear the message. Hee hee." Dunno why he didn't just hang up. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How many pins will fit on the head of an angel? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: cirren. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are not being with my STUFF. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are celery with Buffalo wing sauce, single size packets of microwave popcorn, Real Pickles, water with powdered citrus twists. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Flatness and rolling hills both on Long Island and Kansas. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 19 (I broke the rules). REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Recordings. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS THIS SEMESTER SO FAR: 5. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is the back of my computer chair, actually accomplished over about a four year period. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 7 (and still no Guggenheim letter requests). DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 65 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Republican presidents and vice presidents understand the phrase "you lost". PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,946. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.37 in Stony Brook, $2.34 on the Merritt Parkway, $2.23 at the local Mobile station. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a personal anecdote, fifteen of the widest cantaloupes in the field, intransigence, the big thing we haven't given a name yet.

The big news, of course, is that as of yesterday afternoon, this year's raking is finished, for all intents and purposes -- though I may go over the apple tree yard a bit later to clean out some accumulated detritus. Yesterday (Sunday) Beff and I spent time hauling away the issue of the neighbor's big oak tree, which is always last to give it up. I did not keep a running tab of barrels raked this year, but I think it stopped around 90. Compare that with 104 last year, and we see the effect of the big windstorm that knocked down the ailanthus.

It is just short of two weeks since I last posted, and here I affirm that I am writing in the first person singular (synchronize your grammars). Two extensive trips happened in the interim, as well as plenty of driving, flying, being driven, listening, etc. In the middle of all that, I was informed that BBC Radio 3 was broadcasting a recording of the American music concert by Lontano from last May, with commentary, and that it would be available in streaming audio on its website for a week thereafter. Well, I was curious, and when I got to the site, I discovered that a bunch of composers were in front of me on the concert, I was an hour and fifteen minutes into the program, and there was no way to scroll or fast forward into it. So one night I just let it play, turned down the sound, and set an alarm. After about an hour, I checked on it, and it was in the middle of some deadly boring Virgil Thomson choruses. Ten minutes later I saw the message "network timed out. Probably congestion". When I clicked OK, the program started again FROM THE BEGINNING. So I didn't get to hear it. I did check the user comments online, though, caught someone asking who these Americans were, a user mysteriously named "Martle" piped in that Rakowski was pretty good, and someone else reported on all the composer websites -- including one saying that "Rakowski's website includes what he ate on November 7. Apparently he likes to share". Oh, those great unwashed. Literally.

Much was going on in the actual classroom teaching, although nothing at all was going on in my Thursday composition lessons -- being that I was away both Thursdays. One is being made up tomorrow, another on Wednesday, and both again during exam week. So there, smarty pants. It was chorale writing in theory, and percussion and harp in orchestration. Meanwhile, as much could be done as could be done about that which was done.

So first, a week ago Thursday I drove to Stony Brook starting at 6:45 in the morning, and arrived around noon. There were four major delays on the Hutchinson Parkway, and then a major tie-up exiting 95 for the Throg's Neck, but everything else was okay. It's a four and a half hour drive that was stretched into a stupidly long one. I followed Perry Goldstein's directions to campus and went to the parking garage where I was directed to park, which was marked FULL. After a bit of help, we made our way to the alternate lot, I did some e-mail, we had lunch with Bob Gibson (so good in the 1967 World Series, dontcha know), and I went to my hotel, paid for by Stony Brook. It was a Holiday Inn Express with a lot of amenities, none of which I had time to do. Swim? Not me. Have a conference? Not me. Go to the bathroom? Definitely me. So I then made it in to hear a rehearsal, got there a little early, and saw Rich Festinger -- also with a piece on the concert, and whom I had to direct to the hall ("that way", I said). I then got to hear my rehearsal, and the players were really good -- I just had to make small comments and explain the thrown bow notation (I forgot to say the first time around what it meant), and the performance was stunningly good -- even though I wanted the finale to go faster. Afterwards at the reception, the players kept asking me what else I wanted that they could do, and I said all I wanted was beer.

The day after, in the morning, I checked out and drove into Manhattan, parking near the apartment of Jay and Marilyn, in the 112th Street garage. I had to deliver a Schoenhut toy piano (Model 6637MB) to Marilyn, and she was going to be in her office at NYU all day, so I had packed light -- all I had was the toy piano and a few clothes in a backpack. I cabbed my way to Marilyn's building, and she had said to call her cell phone when I got in. Naturally, it was off, since I got there about 45 minutes early. So I stood at the door to the building with the toy piano on the sidewalk, fielding comments and questions from innocent passersby ("Gift"? "Boy or girl?" "Does she know she's getting it?" "Can you PLAY that?"). Soon Marilyn let me in, we set up the toy piano, and went to the Bowery Bar for lunch. I paid. We both ate. I then spent some time at bookstores and Tower Records before hopping back uptown with Marilyn for dinner with her and Jay. And dine we did. As is usual, we broke out the Corsendonk at the Abbey Pub, and unfortunately they no longer have the "every fourth one free" policy.

The next day I had lunch with Hayes in Chelsea, played with his cats, saw Susan, and went back uptown, picked up Jay, and we both went to a vegetarian restaurant near the Tenri Center for dinner. It was good. The show itself was even better -- the Tenri Center being small, I had a seat very close to the players -- I was cleaning rosin out of my nose at intermission from the viola's bow, and I got to see harp pedaling action up close for the first time. There were a whole bunch of friends and former students there (some of them both) like Jim and Judy (with whom I sat), Spencer Schedler, Rick Carrick, and "Not" Adam Marks. My performance was yet mo' betta, and the Gibson and Festinger pieces sounded quite good this close. Sophie, the pianist, informed that my piece would be on her recital after Thanksgiving, and I solicited a recording from that, too -- not as if I have recordings yet from either performance. She also gave me Rich G's Christmas album, which I treated as an earring for a little while. Jay and Marilyn and I cabbed it back uptown, we stopped for a beer, and went to bed. Next morning I drove off to Maynard before the predicted rainstorm hit.

All that while Beff was at a computer music conference in Utica, New York, and met some of our favorites -- Brian Bevelander, for starters -- and she also just barely beat the approaching rainstorm. Which eventually gave us stormy rain. So for the half day that we actually got to see each other that weekend, we had a fire in the fireplace, and I made salmon burgers from patties I got at Whole Foods. Yes!

The Tuesday that followed was the day for Kansas. I set the alarm for 3:30, since I was being picked up at 4:15 for a 6:35 flight. Geoffy had gotten in late the night before, since he was in town for Musica Viva concerts again, but we did not interface at all. I got up at 3:30, and at about 3:40 as I was in the shower, the phone rang. I hopped out and dripped all over everything, but did not answer it in time. I heard on the answering machine, "This is Orbitz. Your six .... thirty-five ... flight to ... Kansas City .... is on time". They had to CALL me? At such an ungodly hour? With a houseguest trying to get some sleep? Crap, Orbitz is off my list for future bookings. Anyway, I made it to Kansas City on the very nice Midwest Airlines (leather seats! No first class! Cookies!) with a stop in Milwaukee (an "airport that makes up for its lack of amenities with its lack of charm"), and Mary Fukushima was right there to pick me up (I gave her my energy bar from the plane). I had wondered about Midwest's schedule -- since all FOUR of my flights backed away from the gate about ten minutes before the scheduled departure time -- but nobody complained, and all the flights were full except the last one back to Boston. Anyway, Mary took me through the flatness and expanse of the midwest to the Cambridge of Kansas, that liberal bastion Lawrence, and to the home of Dave and Gunda Hiebert -- avid music department supporters, and with beautiful Asian sculptures and structures in and around their house, and a bed on which I got some really sound sleep. At this point I met Mike (Kirkendoll) and Nathanael (May), the pianists, for the first time. I had already met Mary, playing the flute and piccolo part -- for she was the one driving. Duh.

And I was set up to do a thinly-spread residency -- from watching rehearsals and concerts to much dining at the expense of others (it averaged four meals a day), to doing a composer masterclass to talking in an orchestration class. One thing that was a little hard to get used to at first was NOT being in a place where "composer" and "band composer" are two different things (that, and when passing strangers and your eyes meet, they smile at you or even say hi). And one thing that was NOT hard to get used to was having excellent performers to play my piece, at least a time zone away from New York.

Anyway, I got taken to the 75th Street Brewery for lunch by Jim Barnes because I expressed a hankerin' for buffalo wings -- and emerged with just a hint of Southern accent. I then got to hear a rehearsal, and the piece already sounded quite good -- I mostly just made comments about balance and a few things about phrasing. I was sorry that the pianists had to go to so much trouble to deal with the inside the piano stuff -- but unlike other non-New Yorkers, they didn't complain. Not even once. The Guinness book of sports records was used to prop the sostenuto pedal up for Nathanael, and it was the job of the page turner to kick it away when it was no longer needed. I'm sure there's a joke there, but I'd rather make fun of Berlioz.

Hanging out was also David Fedele -- now the flute teacher there -- who recorded Sesso e Violenza during his New York days, and who returned for the encore performance by the Columbia Sinfonietta a year and a half ago (I have pictures), and it was good to reconnect. And make fun of his early 90s promo photo evident in the department. David made lots of appearances, and it was always cool to see him. We did dinner at Indo's with Forrest Pierce, the new junior composer there -- who seems to be making things run really well, at least in terms of the new music ensemble (it is called "Helios" -- or sunflower, as in, Kansas, the Sunflower State) and ... well, standards -- and he is what they call vertically advantaged. After some sort of show, we made a brief appearance at the Free State Brewery, since Gregg had recommended it, and I had an amber. And it was good, brother. Meanwhile, Mary gave me a Kansas Jayhawks big spongy glove and a Kansas Jayhawks frisbee -- I was never to be seen without the glove.

The next day there was lunch at the student union with the piano faculty, who were there explicitly to be shown my etudes. And show them I did, using a Combo-Pak of all 74 (it was agreed that that was a bit many all at once), and there was more rehearsing. The Crumb Music for a Summer Evening was on the show, and beautifully done, though I was falling asleep during it and remembering why I never really got interested in his music during my undergraduate years (it was said he wrote the same piece over and over, and I couldn't find many grounds for disagreement). That said, it had lots of beautiful stuff -- though the slide whistle duet played into the pianos was almost comically dumb -- and the ending came off beautifully.

The concert itself had been scheduled at the same time the KU basketball team -- ranked #3 nationally -- was playing Oral Roberts University, and as it turned out, while the new music was being done, KU got its but soundly kicked (or kickly sounded), and that probably made it easier to get into bars that night. The concert started with a Rzewski piece that was very fun and not at all deep or pretentious, and followed with the Crumb, which sounded even better. After intermission came me, and boy did things click -- listening to the recording, I am actually quite astonished at her nice piccolo sound, which she kept trying to say she didn't have much of, and her control of the harmonics in the final section. David Fedele said the piece was better than Sesso e Violenza, but of course it is only half as long. So I didn't have to try as hard. The concert ended with a Messiaen Oiseaux Exotiques, and it came off very, very well, and finally seemed to be as funny as Messiaen intended. Poor Mike was in every piece, and he had to cram on this piece before the concert. And Mary was the piccolist in the group, and I noticed from my poor vantage point that Mary was the only one in the group whose head moved and bobbed with the musical gestures -- as if she was really playing the music. And Mike either learned the part really well, or faked it incredibly. Afterwards, much of the group went to Old Chicago restaurant, which had lots of beers on tap. And I had some.

And by the way, you can click on the red links above to hear the performance and see the score. This offer holds only for a week.

Then was the business of earning my keep. I spoke to a general music gathering on Thursday morning, introduced by Forrest, and played a bunch of stuff. And I did masterclass in the afternoon, which had a few priceless moments -- first, Beff called me and my cell phone was on, so it played her special ringtone: Beff saying "Davy? Davy? Davy? Davy?" Actually, usually only Mary heard it, and I didn't -- including later, at the Hieberts' house. I tried to get a sense of each composer before I looked at his music; one was introduced as being an organist who was composing, and I tried my utmost to connect: "I took one organ lesson when I was in high school, and I bought the special shoes. Needless to say, I got a lot more use out of them later than I did for playing the organ." The response: "For wrestling?"

That night I was taken to Chinese by Jim Barnes, picked up a little bit more of Southern accent, got deposited at another concert with another performance of the Messiaen, after which Mike and Mary and I went to another dinner and drinks -- I got some good beer on draft, and some textured guacamole (not whack-a-mole). This place closed at 10, and many of the players from the concert wanted to continue, so another venue was used, pool was played (not by me), and Mike and I ended up by ourselves just talking, while margaritas did their dirty work on the bloodstreams of others. Friday I went to the orchestration class, said some things and played some things, went to an open lunch, hung out in Lawrence with Forrest (book stores and Free State Brewery yet again), got taken to dinner at a Mexican place by the Composers Guild (I got the sizzling fajita), caught the end of a flute recital Mike was accompanying, and then went to Mike 'n' Mary's place on the outskirts for some wine. Where we played the game "don't spill your wine while their big dog Kona jumps all over you" -- all of us seem to have won that one. The wine was really good -- I had frankly gotten tired of beer. Briefly.

And Saturday Mike and Mary picked me up at the Hieberts, Mike drove me to the airport, and I had an utterly eventless flight home, with another layover in Milwaukee, which I spent entirely on the plane. I got driven back by AAA, part of the the Mass Pike was closed because of Big Dig crappola, and Beff and I walked to the Quarterdeck for dinner -- I had the clam roll, as usual. Speaking of seafood, I was informed that in Kansas, catfish is considered seafood. Hmm. Where to categorize that?

Meanwhile, on THAT weekend, Beff had driven to Vermont in a rented cargo van with her bro' Bob to get some stuff out of her dad's condo, take some donated books to Norwich University, and bring a few little pieces of furniture back (including a partially spent jar of honey -- okay, that's not furniture, but you get the point). On Sunday morning we dropped the van off, did a Thanksgiving shop, and did the raking thing, and Beff left for Maine, since she promised to watch a dress rehearsal of the concert band (guess what -- they were doing a piece by KU's own Jim Barnes) and I spent most of the afternoon preparing Monday's teaching (lots of Xeroxing, making up a quiz, etc.)

And today, Monday, was a type of day I hate -- drive to school in the dark, and return in the dark. I didn't even raise the shades. And here I am now, and I admit, I am listening repeatedly to the recording of the Kansas performance because a) it was great and b) I have it. I can only say ONE of those things about the Stony Brook performances.

Among other more mundane things -- the Capstone CDs of Michael Lipsey's hand drum CD arrived, as well as a box at the artist rate of Jim and Judy's new CD on Bridge. Both are now available, see links in Recordings. Both are fantafunkingtastic.

Coming up: the Wiemann siblings, possibly all of them, for Thanksgiving. And lots of grading of chorales. Based on my random sampling, I calculated that if all the assigned ones came in, I have 13 hours of grading over Thanksgiving break. Saturday, Maynard door and window takes a look at the pantry in preparation for converting it into a half bath. Tomorrow morning it's dentist time again (number six). Beff gets back either late tomorrow night or during the morning on Wednesday. And then, aw, geez, just a week and a day of classes left. Cool.

As to this week's pictures -- all were taken from my cell phone except the first, taken on Carolyn's (ka-ching!) camera -- it's Carolyn playing the piece of stump as a guitar. Then we have Marilyn Nonken at the Bowery Bar, two shots of the Free State Brewery, Mary Fukushima after being taught how to suck chips to her face, and a bottle chandelier at the place of too many margaritas. Check the red "Uccelli" links above for score and recording of the Kansas experience. For the Stony Brook experience, stand there very still. And for a very, very long time.

NOVEMBER 28. Breakfast this morning was rice link sausages, orange juice, and coffee. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 24.3 and 63.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The Ravel Duo for violin and cello. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include a dentist, bill finally -- $900 and change. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Back in our Princeton grad student days, Andy Milburn had a Commodore 64 with a voice synthesis program -- pretty primitive by today's standards. We delighted in attaching it to the TV and making it say things in its ... well, robotic ... voice. We played a game with Martler and Alison where we would type things with numbers in them to hear the computer pronounce them: 4nik8, qui9, 6ual, etc. -- and Alison topped us all with 0ber took my jewels (zero-bber took my jewels, think French accent). Eventually we recorded our answering machine message using this thing, which included the robotically spoken phrases "Davy is bouncing on his bed. Martin is doing limey things". Paul Lansky thought it was so funny that he used to call us just to hear the message -- and then he would leave a message saying, "Oh, it's Lansky again. I just called to hear the message. Hee hee." Dunno why he didn't just hang up. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Is there such thing as a dry heave-ho? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: slib. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are bad uses of 6-4 chords. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are turkey (duh), including turkey added to Thai Hot and Sour soup. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Hot air balloon liftoffs at the Minuteman Airport. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 3.12. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Home, Teaching. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS THIS SEMESTER SO FAR: 6. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is more of the back of my computer chair, but not over a four-year period -- since the cats are only two and a half. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 8 (most of which were of the "emergency" sort). DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 49 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: School's out for the summer. School's out forever. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,932 (the number is smaller because I eliminated some duplicates). WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.19. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a sea of red ink, the red that the town has been painted, the red red robin that isn't bob bob bobbin', a red tide.

I lied. About the raking. Making a call into what Beth calls my "obsessive" nature, I made a few trips out into the yards, rake and barrel in hands, and raked up about another two barrels worth crappy crap crap leaves. I had noted that the yards of others were barer than ours, and there were a few mroe leaves that blew around in various places -- that we don't even use anyway. But I diddit.

There was also another pretty short dentist visit on Tuesday morning. I had been scheduled for 8:20, and negotiated the heavy rush hour traffic to get there in plenty of time. I got situated on a dentist chair at 8:20, and at 8:40 the dentist, in living color, made it over to me with an assistant. Previously, the hygienist and assistants had worn maroon uniforms, but today's matched color was light gray. I hope they didn't go to all that fuss just to impress me. So all the doctor did this time was probe the gums and call out numbers, duly noted by the assistant. So I felt a light probe, and the doctor said "2". Another probe, "3". Another probe, "2". Another probe, "1". It was explained that this was a visit to see how the gums are healing after the deep scaling. I asked -- with a mouth in my hand -- "Whi' iv be'oh -- wuh oh fwee?" The dentist responded, not mimicking my temporary speech defect (and not removing her hand from my mouth), that "1" is best. Toward the way back, I heard a few 5's, but the dentist ominously remarked, "wisdom tooth. It's coming out anyway". I was glad that wasn't followed by "Right NOW". In any case, in the back left bottom, the dentist scraped off a bit of new plaque, set a February cleaning appointment, and said to brush better there, and said not to brush too hard on the gums because they would wear away -- what a cheerful thought. Post Scriptum: when I did brush thoroughly in that deep recess, I got the gag reflex. Hmm, no wonder. Speaking of gag reflexes, I haven't listened to Duran Duran in a while. Next visit: next Wednesday the 6th.

Meanwhile, Big Mike of ka-ching fame got a nice letter from the registrar which I scanned and put on the bottom of the "Teaching" page. It is well worth your while to read it.

So after the dentist visit was a trip to Whole Foods, which is on the way to Brandeis -- assuming I take that route -- where I had scheduled a makeup lesson with Derek. He was there teaching an ear training section, and of course, despite my two reminder e-mails, he had forgotten. We had the lesson anyway, with an outdated Finale file he had on his keychain flash drive (say that five times fast). Slosberg was very nearly deserted -- a nice feeling -- and I made it home in the light -- a rare occurrence -- and filed the groceries. I had gotten the food for the Thanksgiving feast, and the refrigerator was a-burstin' by the time I was done.

Wednesday was a day of lessons only -- neither of my classes met, as everyone was gone for the holiday -- including another makeup lesson, this time with Peter B, who remembered, despite my reminder e-mail. I realized that both HIS names have five letters, so he is duly included on my home page. And for the first time this semester, I got out of bed early WHILE BEFF WAS HERE and told her I'd be back after my teaching. She seemed confused -- or still asleep.

Late Wednesday afternoon Beff's sister Ann arrived for the holiday carrying about two cars worth of food and drink. Most of it was redundant with what we had, but there were stuffed clams, which when heated tasted exactly like turkey stuffing, and other vagaries. Many carbohydrates were consumed, and many episodes of The West Wing were viewed.

Thanksgiving itself was as to be expected. Yet another big rainstorm was just winding up -- it ended up dropping a lot of what I like to call "precipitation" on us Thursday night -- and Beff and her sister took an umbrella-full walk in the morning. Meanwhile, I prepared my usual Thanksgiving snackies of celery stuffed with (light) cream cheese, olives of various kinds, and pickle wedges. Plus a bunch of pickled garlic that had probably expired. Then Beff did her usual Thanksgiving ritual of making the stuffing, I stuffed the turkey, and ASKED FOR MORE. So Beff had to don the priestess of stuffing uniform once more, say her usual chants, summon the microwave, etcetera. The bird (our affectionate term for the "turkey") went in at 11:08.

Meanwhile, we were expecting other Wiemann siblings, specifically Bob and Jim, and it was unclear to me, and possibly to others, where Matt was. The time of arrival for Bob and Jim was up in the air, as Jim was ... oh my, I've actually stumbled on a topic so boring I can't even bring myself to type it. Okay, then. So I basted the turkey (or "bird" as we now call it) every half hour, snacked, we did crackers and cheese, and the siblage arrived just as the turkey was being taken out of the oven. Meanwhile, Ann peeled enough potatoes to feed the entire third world, and I boiled a fraction of them for eventual garlic mash. Which I made, and it was good, brother. Ann had warned that Bob's appetite for potatoes pretty much matches that of your basic small nation, and that prediction turned out to be true, as I witnessed a full plate emptied, then filled, utterly, again with what I like to call "nothing but potatoes". Like Dan Quayle, I remembered the "e".

After the siblings left, it was West Wing time again, including -- no surprise -- the turkey pardoning episode. Friday was a day of trips for Ann and Beff, while I stayed at home and graded theory homework (there was that much) until about 3. THEY saw the deCordova Museum, and enjoyed the sculpture park, as it was a nice mild day. I did a wee bit o' raking, obsessively. Then there were chicken skewers from Whole Foods, and West Wing episodes.

Meanwhile, Ann noticed that she could piggyback onto someone else's Linksys wireless network. I got jealous, because none of my computers -- even the ones with wireless cards -- could detect that network. Apple, whathafu' is wrong with you?

Saturday was another pretty nice day, and we decided on a small drive before Ann had to leave. We drove to the Stow "nature viewing area" -- as did lots of other people -- and took the path into the woods and out. We then chose to look at the Minuteman Airport in Stow -- which has a cafe, after all -- and there we came upon a pair of hot air balloons being filled. We hung around to watch them fill to the utmost and take off -- all the while, teensy planes took off three in a row. And tried for some pictures, see below. I also made movies, but boy were they boring. Dinner was leftovers. Sunday lunch was canned That hot and sour soup with leftover turkey added -- and then was the moment of freedom. We TOSSED all the other leftovers. After our usual big circle walk.

Beff left for Maine after lunch, and I spent the rest of the day grading yet more theory homework -- my penance for being away in New York and Kansas. Yesterday was a typical teaching day, though it was gorgeous out yet again, and I had the orchestration class outdoors. The topic was strategies in writing for orchestra, and it was okay to play them the Haydn 104 finale on my little iPod boombox battery-operated setup. But the Mahler Urlicht was way too soft and subtle -- it looked almost like a mosh pit as they all leaned in to try to hear it over the distant din of leaf blowers. Then it was the Waldstein in Theory, and I have been racking my brain for metaphors to explain about disrupted formal balance and weird tonal moves. I discarded the small intestine metaphor right away -- too twisty.

Meanwhile, e-mail arrived informing us that Amy D and I will go live on WGBH radio on February 26 to promote Amy's Boston Conservatory recital on the 27th. Amy said I'd wear my face on my t-shirt, and I said I'd bring a stamp with Amy's face on it. The response was that a riotous hour was expected. And my piano quintet had its third performance last night in Stony Brook, dontcha know.

And today I go to BJ's for more stuff that we always have to have lots of. Upcoming: Mindy Wagner does a colloquium on Thursday and she's staying here overnight afterwards (Beff arrives at night, and I told her that when she arrived we'd either be asleep or giggling a lot). Friday Beff has a deep scaling at the dentist, and so does Cammy at the vet, as it turns out. Yes, we are hiring the vet to brush a cat's teeth. What will they think of next? Monday is my last day of classes, Tuesday is my makeup lessons day, Wednesday is another dentist appointment, Thursday is office hours and a meeting, and Friday -- oh, what is Friday? Must to check schedule. It can't actually be free, can it? I guess I'll take my car in for its inspection and a brake job, then. Fascinating.

Okay now -- long hiatus here as the Maids arrived to clean, and I went to BJ's and Trader Joe's where I got fire logs, batteries, toilet paper, cat litter, and lots of really cool stuff. Including tomatoes of many colors. Meanwhile, I can add hot and sour soup -- today's lunch -- to the list of meals. Trader Joe's now uses cheaper paper bags than they used to, and one of them ripped as I was taking it out of the car. Oh, the bad will caused by saving money on stuff where you shouldn't scrimp.

Today's pictures return to the "recent and classic" mode. We have the turkey ready to go into the oven, my snack layout, Beff at the nature viewing area, a plane taking off at the Minuteman Airport, and two pictures of hot air balloons there. The CLASSIC picture is of Beff and me taken by Martler -- it's 1989 in Portland, and note that our feet aren't touching the ground.

DECEMBER 5. Breakfast this morning was the lowfat muffin from the Shapiro Center cafe, and coffee. Lunch was Buffalo wings from Neighborhood Pizzeria, and salad. Dinner is not yet. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 22.6 and 67.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS My own "Disparate Measures", as it plays on iTunes as I type this. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include donations to various musical organizations of $250 each, the Christmas gift of $50 to the paper delivery person, mailing bags and stuff at Staples, amount unknown, things bought in mass quantities at BJs, $209, various at the Bolton market, $88. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In grad school at Princeton, there was a "pro seminar" which varied in topic wildly depending on who "taught" it. Sometimes it was long BS sessions, sometimes there were guest lecturers (John Rahn comes to mind), but always there were readings of student work by paid New York players. My first year there, when Spies ran it, a player got $50 plus travel ($7 roundtrip) for coming in from New York to do 2-1/2 hours of readings. This was when I heard my bagatelles, Mathew Rosenblum's two cello piece, Joe Dubiel's nearly endless solo violin piece, and various others. My second year, Paul Lansky upped the pay to $60 per performer. My third year, Spies came back and restored the $50 fee. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Where does dust come from? I hear tell a lot of it is skin flecks, but really -- then why is there so much in the attic? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: orce. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are requests for extensions, etc.. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are dill barrel pickles, olives, and celery. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK This year's Anchor Christmas Ale. A whole lot like last week's Anchor Christmas Ale. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 7. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS THIS SEMESTER SO FAR: 6. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is nothing. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 4, and all of them couldn't wait. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 66 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Half of the "f" words in English now begin "pf". PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,957. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.23. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the way to San Jose, what today is, where I put my hair dryer, when the next train arrives.

Most of the action this week was during the weekend when Beff was around and stuff could be done. There was the teaching stuff, the occasional grading stuff, and the usual trickle-becomes-a-flood of overdue assignments. There was a bit of Bach to talk about on Wednesday, and some summing up to do on Monday. For orchestration, two pizzas were procured (my suggestion of pepperoni or sausage for one of them -- pig products -- was nixed) along with drinks. Today is the last day of classes for the semester and I would normally stay home, but I did makeup lessons for the time I was in Kansas (in toto), and that took me until the middle of the afternoon. Now I am officially finished for the semester, though there are plenty of office hours still to give, a PhD oral to sit in on (b---h b---h), and by Monday lots of orchestration portfolios to look at (b---h). And lunch with Elaine Wong on Monday!

Meanwhile, tomorrow becomes dentist visit number 7 of the semester, and it's a 2-hour job concentrating on the lower left, and possibly finally a Nygah. I realized that in Kansas there was no mouth weirdness whatsoever, but that it returned when I did, so there's something with the bed or the pillow or the grinding that must be figured out. In any case, it will be the last dentist visit of the semester, hallelujah. There's always next semester. The dentist visit also gives me another ironclad excuse not to do the Messiah sing tomorrow afternoon. Especially as there are no ka-chings involved with it this time.

By far the event of the week was a magnificent colloquium given by Mindy Wagner on Thursday afternoon. I had known Mindy slightly from an American Academy of Arts and Letters event (we both got Academy Awards), a NYNME performance (we sat together and said perfunctory things), and really got to know her at the MacDowell Colony in June, 01. We actually became giggle twins -- especially when the phrase "fish face" was used. You hadda be there. So Mindy drove up from New Jersey, and I left the door of my house unlocked (you can do that here). I did my Thursday teaching and eschewed a department lunch in order to be home when she got it -- and when I arrived she was already here. In fact, she had even answered the phone when Beff called (she got a retroactive raise and it all went into her last paycheck).

So Mindy and I, in the very warm, took the circle walk around the area, and then went to Brandeis with all her stuff. Her colloquium was quite well attended (we asked her to repeat her guitar piece), went over well, and -- Eric Chasalow got us into the TUSCAN GRILL!!! for the post-colloquium dinner. And it was Mindy and the four of the composition faculty enjoying Brandeis's hospitality there. I had the seared salmon, in case you cared. Then, being as middle-aged as we are, we retired early after a brief gigglefest at home, and Beff got in after that. In the morning, Mindy got toast and coffee, got to hang with both Beff and me for a while before she had to drive back, and then it was back to the normalness of our humdrum lives.

So our big adventure of the weekend was a long drive that included a bit of shopping, on Saturday. It included a stop at Bolton Farms for various food and giftie things, a long walk through the Oxbow Wildlife Refuge, a drive to Staples for some mailing bags, etc., and a return home for various walkies. It had been very warm until Friday -- a rainy day that also got to the upper 60s (I believe the temp on Thursday was a record for Boston), and that was a day for BEFF to go to the dentist. As to that, we pretty much have the same stories (hygienist does the scaling, dentist comes over and does some more); in my case, I had Beff follow me in the car to the dentist, after which I got some good stuff at Whole Foods. And duh, brought it back.

Sunday was my day of grading and watching the Patriots struggle (again!) against a vastly inferior team and preparing what to say in class on Monday. Though in the morning -- it had gotten quite cold, actually -- Beff and I decided on some sort of walk (Harley Bridge, etc.) and then she had to up and drive to Maine for rehearsal, etc.

On Monday after teaching I actually went into Cambridge ON THE TRAIN to meet Gil Rose. And happened to travel with Peter M, who got on a bike in Porter Square. I didn't. I met Gil at the Casablanca, he had some wine, I had some beer, olives, and burger, and we talked about various BMOP-related things that applied directly to me. For those of you playing along at home, the performance of my piano concerto is next November 2, and the complete, uncut Ballet Mecanique is on the show as the second half. Meanwhile, the recording session for Winged Contraption is at 8:30 on January 21 -- the performance being the finale of the January 20 concert. Guess who's getting a room at the Midtown Motor Inn on the 20th? What else do you need to know? We're budgeting 5 hours to record the piano concerto.

And then I got the 6:45 train home instead of the expected 7:55, meaning I could record the episode of "Closer" that Beff was interested in. And I got my commission/residency check from U Kansas PLUS finally a recording of my two performances of my piano quintet in Stony Brook and New York. GETTING THE TAPE is always a big production around here, especially since there were two performances of a three-movement piece with which to deal. That meant capturing the audio, editing out the applause and pauses and normalizing the recording levels (the Stony Brook performance came to me very soft), putting AIFFs into the "Davy CD tracks" folder, converting them to mp3s and uploading them to my webspace, updating my secret index, and e-mailing various people that they are there. Wow.

So the two performances of the quintet ("Disparate Measures") sound very different. In Stony Brook it was a much better piano, and the recording is more blended but more distant; in New York it was a small grand and the microphones are quite close to the strings, so the balance is different, but I like the presence and scratchiness of the string sound. If the dear reader would like he/she may compare them (see red links on left) and express to me a preference. For the uninitiated listener, the first movement is called "Flight" (it's sort of inspired by the awkward and then gorgeous flying motion of a Great Blue Heron that nested near my Yaddo studio), the second is "Adagio" and the third is "Vapor Lock". I don't know where "Vapor Lock" came from, but nobody asked me about it so I didn't have to make up shit. And yes, that's a quote from the Brahms Lullaby in the third movement.

Hmm. Great Blue Heron and Birds of Bogliasco. Looks like it was my summer of birds. I don't mind.

I also started thinking about a piece for Collage and Judy Bettina -- there is no firm commitment yet, nor firm ensemble, but I started poring through some volumes of poetry by Phillis Levin, and may have enough for a substantial piece. With so much contrast it will part your hair. Right down the middle.

There, now that wasn't so hard, was it? For those playing along at home, this is Stacy's 37th birthday (I called her from work at 10 her time and she was practically asleep). And there's not much else to report. So listen to the SB and NYC performances of "Disparate Measures", and if you have a preference, be prepared to write a 1,000 word essay on why.

This week's pictures include two of Mindy after the colloquium, first with Marty Boykan and second with Josh Gordon; then we have Yu-Hui posing with the Kansas Jayhawks glove given me by Mary Fukushima; then a picture toward our house Sunday morning as we took our walk; then the Oxbow River in the refuge, and a sycamore tree with its peeling bark. Bitchin.

DECEMBER 12. Breakfast this morning was rice link sausages with 2% Kraft cheddarlike cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was a couple of small mozzarella and tomato sandwiches at a committee meeting. Lunch was an expensive pizza and half a Kobe beefburger in Newton Center with Elaine Wong. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 18.5 and 52.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS My own "Disparate Measures", again, since the recording of its third performance came in. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include dentistry, $1444, Christmas present for Beff, $314, toner cartridges $300, printing paper $121, Christmas tree, $35. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: One fine Sunday afternoon when we are at Tanglewood, the composers of Serenak (me, Martler, Ross, Nami, and Dan Brewbaker) were having our lunch in our servants' kitchen. At the same time, the members-only lunch club was going on in the main part of the mansion, for donors and smelly old people. Bernie poked her head in and asked if a guest, who was weary of the Lunch Club, could join us, we said okay. It was Seiji Ozawa; he very limply shook all of our hands, I gave him an expensive beer to go with his cucumber sandwich, and he was on his way. Weeks later after the last Tanglewood concert, at the dance party at Miss Hall's School, Ozawa came up to me and thanked me a second time for the beer. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How many times, really, does a "deadline" have to be repeated for a student before it sinks in (apparently, seven is too low a number)? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: kleebstock. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF my temporary crown. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are not much of anything, actually. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the price of toner cartridges often exceeds the price of the printers that use them. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 4. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS THIS SEMESTER SO FAR: 7. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is nothing, but the little cat from the "cat shooter" occasionally surfaces as a manic cat toy. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 6, with 10 Guggenheim letters coming up. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 45 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: The other half of the "f" words in English now begin with "ph". PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,992. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.29. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE time, being, existence, dust bunnies thickened with cat hair.

Classes have been over for a week, but it hardly seems it. My firm deadline for all materials was yesterday at 5, and of course not everything is in yet. Drastic measures will be called for: next semester each student will be asked to sign a statement attesting that they know on which date all class materials are due, and that they will accept a zero for all assignments not completed by that date. It's come to this, folks. There's something here about the needs of the few, but I don't know how it applies.

I also did all my makeup lessons and other various things at the 'Deis, and had extra office hours. Of which some students availed themselves. And Wednesday was chapter 7 in adventures in dentistry. This was a very long one, as there were two fillings followed by the preparation of a crown (I had asked for the tiara, but they were out. Plus, they looked at me funny). It was the sort of thing that you keep thinking is over, but it isn't (sort of like the chamber works of Dvorak). I even got to bite into something that felt like wet modeling clay and hold it in my mouth, droolful, for ten minutes. And after all that, I found out I had a "temporary" crown and that a porcelain one was to be custom fabricated at the ... uh, crown factory? And that it would be installed next Tuesday the 19th. Meanwhile, the temporary one was described as "sort of plastic", I was advised not to chew too hard on that side, and to not floss normally there. Hmm, great advice. The not chewing thing is easy, since it HURTS to chew on the temporary crown. But enough about teeth. Unless you wish to know that a porcelain crown costs $1150, not much less than a root canal.

Today is my sister Jane's birthday. She turns 55. Wow.

This was an unusual week in that I DIDN'T look outside and see more little piles of leaves that needed raking for me to rush outside and take care of. Instead, I did some deep thinking. And when I saw what I had done, I went to the bathroom.

Beff got in late Thursday night and had her second dentist appointment on Friday morning. I meanwhile had anticipated waiting for Derek J to come over and do some tabloid printing, but he had to put it off until today. So after Beff got back from the dentist, we drove to the library, returned some stuff, got some stuff, and walked around downtown. It was a bitterly cold and windy day (I was heard to remark, "it's a bitterly cold and windy day, isn't it?"), so we did as little walking in the outside as we could. Beff was looking for what she calls "trinkets" for the Christmas packages that go to relatives, as well as other various vestiti (clothes), so we did the Outdoor Store. And I renewed a prescription at CVS, mailed some packages at the post office, and we stopped by Maynard Door and Window to give Zoe the dog some bones, as usual -- see Zoe movie below. After that (while the prescription was being filled), we lunched at the Quarterdeck, where life was beautiful all the time. I got the clam roll, not because I wanted to be unoriginal, but because I wanted a clam roll. Then it was back into the cold and back home.

A Christmas present from both of us to both of us arrived, meantime -- a digital picture frame, which is apparently now all the rage. Beff chose a nice one, the 6.5 inch Phillips one. What you do is load your favorite pictures on a digital card (this one reads 4 formats) and it has an LED display to slideshow them, or show just one, or whatever you want. The battery doesn't last all that long (a 2-1/2 hour charge seems to give you 2 hours of display), but it's very cool --- especially if your feet are as deeply immersed in geekdom as mine are. Meanwhile, Beff specified exactly which handbag she wanted to replace her cheap TJ Maxx model, and I got that for her -- it arrived yesterday. I don't know where in geekdom that leaves me, but I will, Oscar, I will.

Friday's dinner was delicious chicken sandwiches, which accompanied the local (our living room) showing of Intolerable Cruelty. Beff was curious because she saw the first two thirds of it IN THE DENTIST CHAIR and wanted to see how it ended. It was funny indeed, but we both expected another silly twist at the end -- being a Coen Brothers movie and all that -- but it was conventional.

Saturday began with a discussion of the need for yet more trinkets, specifically toy-like-lookin' USB flash drives for our nephew like those spyed on . So we decided on an early-as-possible departure for Target, which we thought might have them. We were wrong. But I did get two nice new sweaters, we got some cat and dog stuff, and other various and sundry items, and moved on to CompUSA -- which also didn't have them. So Beff up and got them online. Meanwhile, I took a trip to Staples to see if they had them, and to FYE (formerly Strawberries) in Acton. Where I got some CD-Rs (the last brand I trust -- Fuji Film with the boxes) and an iTunes gift card for Beff. Lunch was Trader Joe's shrimp tempura.

Later on Saturday we got our usual Lions Club Christmas tree from the parking lot at Shaw's and brought it home, along with some very nice groceries indeed. We got a shorter one than usual because the last two got so tipsy we had to tie them to the wall to keep them from falling over -- plus, the stereo is now in the place where we've usually put them, so it's now more in the middle of the living room than toward the window. I actually got out the hacksaw and trimmed some of the bush in front of the window so that passersby could see a bit of the tree. So we installed the tree and Beff decorated it. It is now there. As a tree. Decorated by Beff. And I am watering it daily. And of course, the cats love anything that seems naturelike brought into the house. So with a roaring fire, a decorated tree, and a digital frame doing a slideshow of 305 pictures, we were set. For Christmas music we had -- Earth, Wind and Fire? Yep.

Sunday Beff made another of her early exits, after we did a walk into town for more possible trinkets. I worried out loud that nothing but the Paper Store would be open, and I was right. But trinkets we got. And walking we did. My only obsessive outdoor thing -- now that the weather was much warmer -- was picking up fallen pine cones in the back yard. They filled a big shopping bag, so there.

On Monday I started preparing scores to send to colony applications for this summer -- which involved the copy machine in the guest room, which finally after a year and a half ran out of toner. Lucky me, I bought extra toner when I bought the machine, so I was able to do the whole job and WOW, making scores is tedious. I followed that performance with a long day at Brandeis, first with a composition lesson, then with my yearly Elaine Wong lunch (we ate at a trendy and expensive place in Newton Center), three hours of office hours, and a committee meeting that went until about 8. When I got home, it was naturally dark, and the cats were antsy, a-lookin' for treats. Which they got. When I got home, I found out it was package day: Beff's handbag arrived, my Bose Xmas present arrived, and a note saying FedEx tried to deliver a book from Tom Kunding (architect I met at MacDowell) tried to be delivered, and they'd be back. That and I got the CD of the THIRD performance of Disparate Measures, to which I listened -- the finale is finally at the tempo I wanted, but there's some weird ensemble stuff in the middle that I don't think I can fix. Nonetheless, it's another very fine performance. Since no one compared the two performances put up here last week, they are ... gone!

So today I go through all the final grading -- except for those that don't realize seven iterations of the deadline are enough -- and host Derek for his big printing. Wednesday is a PhD oral and I'll probably see Sam and Laurie and Georgia afterwards. Thursday is yet another meeting. And late on Friday, Beff is back. That pretty much sums it up. So on the left, see the little dog Zoe from Maynard Door and Window catch the ball I throw (academy award, here we come).

This week's pictures include Cammy looking out the dining room window (apparently at a bush), the digital frame displaying Amy D in China, actual tolerable pictures of me 'n' Beff at the Quarterdeck, Zoe on my leg looking for a bone, the Christmas tree hiding the raging fire in back of it, Cammy and Sunny a-checkin' out the tree, the full moon early in the week, and two old scanned pictures of Beff and siblings.

DECEMBER 19. Last night's dinner was 93% lean burgers and salad. Breakfast this morning was rice link sausages with cheese, potato pancakes, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch today was a small Brick Oven pizza. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 29.8 and 56.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The song "Zwielicht" by Schumann -- as I think I may quote it in the piece I am working on now. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include a new office chair, $105 at Staples. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In eighth grade, we had a new gym teacher known as "Mr. Pequignot", or Mr. P -- Mr. Gilbert, who had done the job so many years before, bought a farm and retired from teaching; this was also the second year that all eight grades went to the new elementary school instead of the regional schools in buildings that were a hundred years old. Mr. P decided to put together a soccer team. I did not go out for it, but after the first practice, he persuaded me to do it -- I was the starting left winger. Do not ask me why. In our very first game -- played in back of the old Barlow Street School, against St. Albans Town, we got the kickoff, which went to the right inside, and then to me. I tried to make a long, long kick to get the ball in front of the goal for one of other guys. I kicked as hard as I could, and then got decked by the other team's right winger. As I got up, I saw the ball going into the goal. We won that game 1-0. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How many people eat, or say, rutabagas every day? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: alstage. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF my temporary crown and its temperature distress, still. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are pouch pickles, nighttime popcorn, and Buffalo wing hot sauce. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK At Staples, there is sometimes a huge disconnect between the price you see on the floor and what comes up on the register. In their defense, they will charge you the lower price. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 18. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Bio, Teaching, Performances, Lexicon, Compositions. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS THIS SEMESTER SO FAR: 7. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is nothing, but the little cat from the "cat shooter" is continuing to pop up in new places every day (currently on a stair between floors) RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 18 (including 10 handwritten Guggenheim letters) DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 32 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: A president who understands that he has the opposite of "political capital". PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 9,992. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.27. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE beans, beans, the magic fruit, temporary cloud formations, a distant noise that sounds like an explosion, the texture inside a wool mitten.

I am through with Brandeis for the calendar year, and none too soon. Much of last Wednesday, Thursday and Friday were spent correcting the last homeworks, the late homeworks, and much time was spent going over the Orchestration portfolios -- yes, I did make annotations on some of the projects, and I DID read all of the "listening journals" I had obnoxiously assigned. Why did I assign listening journals? Because it was my decision that the students had to listen to a lot of music and listen carefully to how instruments were used, but they wouldn't necessarily be graded on it -- thus, undergraduates being a busy lot, since they weren't being graded, I knew they would not do the listening unless I made them write about every piece. That, therefore, created a larger burden for me in terms of grading -- it's this time of year when I regret assigning as much as I do. On the other hand, it did help to lead to that Gushing With Pride moment -- as when I showed a colleague the first orchestra arrangement that came in, and noted, "here's someone who couldn't have told you the range of any of these instruments three months ago, and look -- an orchestrational crescendo." Hee hee hee.

Meanwhile, the theory students may just be starting to "get" Beethoven -- as in how to balance the form when weird stuff happens, how the dominants get longer and longer, and why codas are there. How 'bout that. So all that correcting, reading and grading took me right to Friday night, which was when Beff got back -- a day late because of something to do with exams and the U Maine schedule.

Which gave us a shortened weekend. It was still mild (love this global warming thing at this time of year), and I have been making occasional trips out to the edge of the property where all the overgrowth has been, obsessively uprooting old vines, ailanthus stumps, and large root systems that seem to belong to forsythias. I have NOT obsessively been picking up the pine cones that have fallen in the side yard, but I just may. I just may. Because there are a lot.

And there was a large pile of packages that had arrived for Beff to sort through -- various Christmas presents (including a tote bag for the sibling known as Matt -- she brought it into the computer room and asked if it looked like The Sibling Known as Matt's style, and I had no idea what she was talking about. So I said, "I have no idea what you're talking about, but I suppose I'm supposed to say that it does. Look like the style of the sibling known as Matt, that is.").

Beff had plenty of grading of her own to do, of course, as well as practicing to do, but we did manage long and large walks both weekend days (including around the mill on Sunday and a brief look at a house we could have bought but are glad we didn't -- no garage, narrow street, other houses very close -- but a one-minute walk downtown). And on Saturday of course there was a trip out Stapleswards to look for more giftie trinkets, as well as ship the holiday gift packages to my own relatives, spread far and wide as they are in Colorado and Vermont.

I have noted here that Cammy sharpens his claws on the back of my computer chair, which was bought new when we got the house -- therefore about six years old -- and the back has become quite ratty (not catty, ratty) -- so I decided since I was at Staples that I would go for another new office chair. So into the office chair department went I, and they've been upgrading (a quote from Adam from Buffy Season IV) -- none of the carpet-textured office chairs seem to be offered any more, though there are plenty at really lowdown prices. I found something that met my needs -- adjustable height and armrests (Beff brought home a really nice chair from her dad's condo, but it lacked the armrests), and a leatherette surface -- perhaps Cammy-proof, but I doubt it. And it was $120 on sale for $100. Of course it wasn't in stock, so at the store kiosk the salesman looked it up for the sake of having it delivered, and the price came through as $150. The manager gave it to me for the indicated price, of course, and it arrived a few minutes ago. I am not excited about putting it together, but I will be one of these days.

And in the meantime, all the extra printing paper and toner cartridges I ordered online last week arrived. I saw that 28-pound tabloid size laser printing paper was available, so I snapped some up -- and it is labeled as "color laser" printing paper. Cool. And one of the packages that had arrived was a Christmas present to me -- the Bose iPod thingie. And it has a very big sound. We listened to our Christmas tape on it, and Beff got tired of it. So we listened to the Christina Aguilera Christmas CD and suffered through a little bit of melisma abuse -- putting that voice on Angels We Have Heard On High is a little bit like swatting a fly with a sledgehammer. Actually, a lot like it.

Meanwhile, my big task of the weekend was putting together applications for MacDowell Colony and Yaddo for the summer, which is a much more involved process than I remembered -- it's always a much more involved process than I remembered. Since I had to get recent scores together, I actually had to make them and bind them. And burn some CD-Rs. And make three copies of the applications. And get Harold Meltzer to write for me for MacDowell. And then both applications ask you to list your five most important professional accomplishments. I suppose teaching singers how to write an orchestral crescendo doesn't count, nor does teaching 150 students, and counting, how to write a minuet for string quartet. So self-horntooting it is. And then they have to be packaged and addressed, an application fee check written, etc.

Meanwhile, we are leaving for our vacation trip -- England, Scotland and Wales (oh my) next Tuesday. So no update here for three weeks. Deal with it. The house- and catsitter will be Seunghee, a grad composition student at Brandeis, and we had her to the Quarterdeck for dinner on Saturday night so we could go over the stuff that has to be done. I had the blackened cajun special. She was able to read the Korean writing on the Little Pusan Restaurant, informing us that it read "Little Pusan Restaurant".

Sunday's dinner was portobellos and salmon burgers and salad. Really good, if you ask me. Go ahead, ask me.

Yesterday, Monday, I was supposed to go into work for a lesson and two meetings. In a lucky twist of fate, both meetings were cancelled, as was the lesson. Which made it my first working day since I finished "Not" back in October. I am not yet ready to start a band piece, and I would have been reading Phillis Levin's poetry and writing a set of songs with ensemble, but I do not know yet what ensemble I am writing for, and my e-mail asking that question is so far not answered. So I got antsy -- I asked the usual suspects for etude ideas and went back to the last time I asked for etude ideas, and settled on one of them: fast melodic thirds. Meanwhile, Mike Kirkendoll weighed in with some that I've filed for future etudes. As I write this, I am in the middle of bar 48 of this etude, and, true to form, I don't know if I'm half finished, two thirds finished, or nine tenths finished. But there definitely is some cool stuff, and if I play my cards right, I'll get in a quote from that Schumann song, Zwielicht.

But in the morning I had to get the colony applications out -- I drove to West Concord, since that's usually a deserted post office, and the line was about 30 people, all of them holding packages. So I went to the health food store, got some pickles, and then went to K-Mart in search of cat treats and a hand mixer -- Seunghee had asked if we had one, and I was embarrassed to say we don't. I got a little Sunbeam handheld electric one, cat treats, etc., and on the way home I stopped at the Maynard post office, where the line was long, but only about a dozen people -- including a family applying for passports, and that takes a LONG time. Later on the news I learned that December 18 is usually the busiest day at the post office (last day they guarantee delivery by Christmas), and that made me think -- why does Yaddo have a deadline (January 1) that pretty much guarantees that applicants have to stand in line in the Christmas rush?

As to today -- I have been mostly writing the piece and checking e-mail on occasion. Shortly I will try to put a chair together. And my appointment to get my permanent crown put in for today was moved to tomorrow morning. So mentally, put that dentist visit number at 8, which it may be by the time you read this.

I decided to make this update the Year In Review update -- since it's going to be sitting here for more than three weeks anyway. So as usual, the twelve shots below represent the successive months of 2006. Drum roll, please.

You may recall that I had an unpaid leave in the spring semester -- oh lawdy how I'd love more of those. Except for the unpaid part. So I did the VCCA (with Beff), MacDowell Colony, Bogliasco Foundation in Italy, and Yaddo. So January is a view of the mountains near the VCCA; February is ice made near the edge of the Assabet Rive, mostly in the shape of the splatting; March is the kitties on a mild day that I came home from MacDowell to paint with Beff; April is a closeup of more ice deep in the woods at MacDowell; May is a bit of the Mediterranean as viewed from the Bogliasco Foundation; in June Beff had a performance sung by Sooooozie on an ACA concert, and there's Soooooozie showing us her cell phone, July found me at Yaddo, and there's a mushroom near my studio; in August, there's the breakfast (and dinner) table at Yaddo on my last day, with Gina making a face; in September, we see Beff at the nature preserve whose name I forget; in October, who can forget the ailanthus blowing down in a windstorm that took out part of the fence?; in November, there's Beff at the local nature preserve; and in December, there's the new digital frame on the mantel (it is displaying the Ka-Ching twins embarking in the canoe with me looking on). Rock on.

2007

JANUARY 11. Today's lunch was an Amy's mushroom and pepper pizza, shared with Beff. Dinner last night was salmon burgers and salad. Breakfast today was rice link sausages, orange juice, coffee, and grapefruit juice. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST 3 WEEKS: 15.8 and 71.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS My own "Disparate Measures", last movement. LARGE EXPENSES this last 3 weeks include everything we bought in the United Kingdom, Beff's dental bill $660, Winged Contraption recording session mucho denaro. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In 1970 my brother graduated from the Colorado School of Mines and got married in the same week. This was occasion for the whole family to fly to Colorado for a week and do a nice vacation, in May. I went, and was roommates with my grandmother. But I was very short at the time. The family stopped at a Mr. Steak chain for dinner whenever that was possible, and the wedding rehearsal dinner was held at a place with a fake windmill called The Hungry Dutchman -- I remember thinking that it was expensive, since most dishes were at least $5. Also seen on the trip were the Air Force Academy, Colorado Springs, and lots of Speed Limit 70 signs. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: What is rounder than round?THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: pimkole. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF turbulence, even more than two weeks later. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: are bitter ale, olives, potato chips with weirdass flavors, pouch dill pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Scotland, in winter, with clear skies. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: a little irrational number I like to call "bibbletymop". REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Bio, Performances, Do You Really Look Like That. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 8. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is nothing, as far as I can tell. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST 3 WEEKS: 6, including 3 online letters written and sent from the United Kingdom. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I flunked my learner's permit exam the first time I took it. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: A moratorium on electronic gadgets with names whose first syllable is a lowercase "i". PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,220. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.27. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a poorly drawn sad clown face, a chocolate covered ant, the concept of overeating as expressed by mimes, a tarp measuring 12 feet by 12 feet with an orange juice stain.

It is now three weeks since the last update, and there are a few things to report. Short version: all of Beth's siblings plus nephew here for Christmas, eating, flying, two weeks in the United Kingdom, flying, catch up. So let's break those down in order, shall we?

Around the last time I posted, I finished my 75th piano etude -- on "melodic thirds" -- and called it "Twilight", after the "Zwielicht" movement of the Opus 39 Liederkreis that I quoted in the piece's coda. The etude has some boring bits that are rescued by the parts that aren't boring. And some triads, but that is neither here nor there. I finished just in time to enter it into Finale before relatives started arriving for Christmas. And arrive they did.

On the Saturday before Christmas, Beff's sister Ann and her son Jack arrived, and we did what we could to make things interesting. It became a running gag for me to ask Jack -- age 11 -- if he was monumentally bored yet. Apparently not, since he probably knew he was going to be opening an XBox 360 on Christmas day. We went to the Quarterdeck that night, and Jack was not yet bored. Next day there was plenty of cooking and it being warmish outside, and watching of TV, and finally there were the Christmas eve gifts to open. I don't remember what mine was.

On Christmas Day itself there was much opening of presents and the staggered arrivals of Beff's other siblings Matt, Bob, and Jim. I made my usual celery and cream cheese snackies, and as usual Ann had brought enough food for about 20 people, and the late afternoon dinner, cooked by Ann, was a roast beef sort of thing, au jus (or as the relatives were saying, "with au jus"). My only part in the big cookoff was to steam a bunch of very long and fat asparagus, and there ended up being too much, so I had to sautee it. Normally at this sort of affair Bob's second whole plate of food would be mashed potatoes, but he was deprived. So I think he may have had an actual bite of asparagus. After the usual toasts and stuff, the siblings were off, and more TV was watched -- indeed, the entire first season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and I think Jack got hooked. This marks him as one of the family, i.e., a serious geekzoid.

On the day after Christmas we were scheduled to be picked up at 5 to be driven to the airport, so the morning consisted of packing (I brought way more clothes than I used), disassembling the Christmas tree and chucking it, walking downtown and back, and picking up Seunghee at the train station, as she was to be the catsitter for two weeks. She got here early enough, and it was warm enough (57) that we three took a nice walk around the old rail trail, etc. And then we left.

The jet stream that guides weather systems has been going nuts this winter -- bringing giant snows to Colorado and record warmth to this area (see temperature extremes, above) -- and a storm that had just deposited a bunch of rain on Christmas day was now in eastern Canada. We apparently flew right over the most turbulent part of it, since our flight was a real doozy. In fact, the anticipated tail wind was so great that our 6-1/2 hour flight was scheduled to be 5-1/2 hours, which the captain called "very short". In typical British fashion, he also warned that with the tailwind it would be "a bit bumpy". He was right -- the first hour and a half ranged the full gamut from scary to downright terrifying. Compound that with our being in the very back of the plane (a 747) and the plane apparently being from an era when humans were a foot shorter (which would explain the near absence of leg room), and I pretty much decided to cross British Air off of my list of possible future air carriers. I passed the time alternating between being absolutely terrified and watching our route on the virtual map on the screen in front of us. At one point it said the tail wind was 300 mph. Wow.

So naturally we were woolly and harried when we got off the plane, and our time in England began with a 55-minute wait in line just for passport control (Beff said that it was worse in Costa Rica, but somehow that didn't solve the problem at hand). So when we finally got to a customs agent, we got asked "relationship?" "Married." "How long?" "Eighteen years" -- then Beff figured out "how long" referred to how long we were staying. We revised the answer to two weeks. And after all that wait, there was STILL another half hour wait till our luggage appeared. Boy, I'matellayou, these European airports.

And so naturally we were frazzled and very tense when we finally met Martler -- who had waited an hour and a half hisself. The drive to Brighton was uncomplex, and we finally saw for the first time his and Cora's place in Hove -- a lovely and funky two-story townhouse that has its own cat. I quickly acclimated myself to Martler's schedule: morning coffee, lovely lunch, 6:30 trip to pub for two pints, dinner, and to bed. It's the pub that I remember best, of course, since it was pretty much unvarying no matter where we were. And Cora did a lot of impromptu and improvised cooking of meals that turned out quite excellently, thank you.

And so for the first week it was a drive to nearby Lewes for lunch and antiquing (Beff got two ceramic pieces), a walk on the Brighton pier, Thai food in Brighton, a tour of the Brighton Pavilion (an early nineteenth century gaudy palace), a train ride to London to view the play Frost-Nixon (Cora got us first-row rush seats), a 6-hour drive to Wales -- with the Brighton cat (named Violet but called Bitey or Bidge) on Cora's lap -- where we stayed in the place Cora co-owns for several days, and lots of windiness on the shore. The place (Chesterton) is gorgeous and very comfy, and RIGHT ON the water, and we spent some time doing e-mail (they have wi-fi) and watching a British series "The Lakes". On New Years Eve we went to the closest pub and people were there in costume (a Welsh new years thing?) and instead of returning to the pub for the stroke of midnight, we took some champagne out to the back veranda (winds varying between 35 and 50 mph) and had our own blowout. So to speak.

So the day after New Years we visited Aberystwyth -- just south -- and visited the breathtakingly unimpressive Welsh National Library. Then of course there was the pub at 6:30 -- as well as for lunch.

Next day Beff and I boarded a bunch of trains (some operated by Arriva, some by Virgin) to Glasgow, where we sat close to a guy who droned on and on and on and on about boring details of places he'd been that no one has ever heard of. It made it easier to fall asleep. We got to Glasgow, found our hotel, and immediately set out to find a nearby restaurant ("The Buttery") highly recommended by Beff's SCOTLAND GUIDE BOOK. Turns out it was closed. Had been for months, maybe years (we now think only for about six months). So nearer the hotel we gambled on a Thai restaurant that turned out to have good food but very bad music (a pentatonic MIDI jerkoff-fest whose only satisfaction was an occasional actual leading tone or chord based on virtual scale degree 4).

Then we spent two days walking all over the city, mostly in search of Charles Rennie Mackintosh stuff, which we like very much. We did the Willow Tea Rooms (or their current incarnation), the Glasgow School of Art, Glasgow Cathedral, the shopping streets, the museum of modern art, the Hunterian Gallery with the reconstructed Mackintosh housw with original Mackintosh furniture and a bunch of Whistler paintings, the Kelvingrove Museum, the Two Fat Ladies restaurant (I got me a apron with their logo), beer at the Babbity Bowster, a meal at the Ubiquitous Chip, and a final meal at a pub near the train station. Good beer, those Scottish. And Beff got a liter of Ancnon Scotch to bring back, mostly because we had never heard of it.

On our last morning in Glasgow, we walked around some places we hadn't been -- the sun seems not to have risen before 8:45, by the way, and was alwas very low in the sky, all day -- and encountered a self-standing building labeled RAVEL CENTER. Beff was excited, as we had never heard that Ravel had dealings in Scotland. Beff took a picture with her camera, and when we got closer to the building to see what was inside, we noted lots of maps, plane and rail schedules, and package prices. Then we were close enough to notice the skeleton of the letter "T" before RAVEL CENTER. We had a big tee hee about that, pardner.

The trip back to London by train was fine -- it's always good to get on at the beginning of the trip since you get priority space for your baggage, and that was in tremendously short supply on the Virgin train we rode. Upon arrival in London, we cabbed it to Cora's place next to the British museum, and went with their friends Domini and Adrian to the Mayflower restaurant in Chinatown and had an amazing meal -- including an EXTREMELY peppery hot and sour soup that was as tasty as it was painful. But hey -- painful is my game. Next day it was back to Brighton and back to teaching for Martler, a lunch with Cora, and some walking through "The Lanes" -- a Berkeley-type area of Brighton. For our farewell dinner, Martin couldn't take us to his place of choice (duh, it was closed), so we had the second choice -- a small French restaurant. We got some wine and my choices were an asparagus and something pastry followed by some nice pasta.

The squeamish are invited to skip this paragraph. So while eating the pastry thing, I started to feel a scratching in the back of my throat, as if there was a fish bone stuck there or something, and it just felt very scratchy and awkward. I was unable to swallow the damn thing, and I tried to cough it up, but nothing was doing. I didn't want to make a scene -- have I mentioned that we were in a French restaurant? -- so I hopped downstairs, quickly, to the mens room, and tried to cough it out violently. Nothing doing. Couldn't swallow it either. So, sigh. I felt the next step was to do the bulimia thing and stick my finger way back in my throat to see if I could upchuck violently enough to dislodge the thing, and that didn't work either. At this point, I started to feel where the thing was, so the next step was to try to scrape it out of where it was, and luckily I had just enough fingernail to do that -- of course, it was deep enough so that each time I tried that I got the gag reflex big-time. But after five or six tries, finally I felt whatever it was move to the side of my cheek very deep. A few more scraps and gag reflexes later, Martler showed up to see what was up, and I finally got it out and onto the counter. It was a short piece of very thin but rigid wire, an inch and a half to two inches long. After gargling a little water and swallowing some, we both went back to our table, I brought the piece of wire, and I finished my starter. My throat felt rather scratchy (duh), but I finished the entree as well. Martler paid, then brought the wire up to the waitstaff and explained what had happened to me -- explaining that he was avoiding a big scene, and the chef ought to know what's in the stuff he is serving. The response was -- nothing. Later when we were leaving, we were given assistance with our coats, and one of the waiters said to me, "sorry about your starter, sir". Wow. Oh, those French.

So that was my last night in England. For those of you whose future travel plans include Brighton, I will merely say that the name of the restaurant previously referenced is La Fourchette, on Western Street.

So the next morning we went with Martler to his job at the U of Sussex, and occupied ourselves until he drove us to Heathrow, where we arrived four hours before our flight. We had anticipated long queues (we were starting to talk like Britons), but from the time we entered the terminal to the time our e-tickets printed, our baggage was checked and we went through security, it was only twelve minutes later. So we had a lot of time to walk around, play with our phone card, have a little lunch, and be frustrated at Duty Free in our quest for Amaro (Beff noted that one of the more plebian wines that you can get here was offered as a luxury item there for oh so much more than it would have cost here). Then there was the flight itself, which was delayed by an hour because, again -- high winds over the Atlantic were causing a bottleneck in the available routes, and I steeled myself for another bumpy flight, but even longer. It turned out the flight WAS very long, but was also extremely smooth. Wow. Customs and baggage claim were very quick, and we were home by 9:30 at night. With an AVALANCHE of stuff upon which to catch. And we were VERY glad to see our cats. And they were glad to see us.

Now our dollars weren't worth very much in England. The cost of a Pound Sterling varied between $1.92 and $1.95 while we were there, and we used the least expensive option to get cash -- debit card at cash machines. With the one percent plus five dollars per transaction that our bank charged, it ended up being almost exactly two to one -- two bucks bought a pound. Problem was, a pound bought about $1.40 worth of stuff, so everything turned out being, by our standards, vastly overpriced. A simple lunch at Two Fat Ladies (including the purchase of an apron for 12 pounds) ended up costing us a hundred bucks, in fact -- but by then we were so desensitized to the exchange rate that it felt like we were paying dollars and not pounds. And the cause of the crappy exchange rate? Bush's trade deficit, and Bush's government's spending deficit. Caused in no small part by Bush's war. So all in all, W cost us an extra 700 or 800 bucks. More than the seemingly large tax rebates we got in '01, dontcha know. But I digress.

Upon our return, I quickly wrote some rec letters that I had been asked for when I was gone (these things can never wait unless you happen to be Peter Westergaard, and then it's okay to wait three years), and then of course the next day we were jet lagged on the wake-up-early side. I was upandattem at 5:30 am, and Beff was up at 5:45. We started doing work to get stuff out of the way -- including six loads of laundry, and breakfast -- and actually had to wait around for the post office to open at 8 am so we could pick up our two weeks of mail. Followed by a shop at Shaws, and the purchase of a new light bulb at Ace Hardware and a new smoke detector -- since one of the old ones refused to stop doing the "battery low" beep every ten seconds. There was a buttload of mail and a buttload of groceries with which to deal, and then while Beff was vacuuming, the vacuum cleaner broke. So we went to K-Mart, got a new one, and got some new pillows and kitty treats as well. There we met Seunghee, who had done a great job housesitting, and she took her last bit of food with her, and I gave her some good paper for the string ensemble piece she had nearly finished.

Meanwhile -- amongst the pile of mail was news that my piano concerto was commissioned by the Koussevitzky Foundation for lots and lots of money, so I had to get them the paperwork to start getting paid for it, and that meant registered mail at the post office. While on that trip, I mailed a bunch of bills, Beff did the bank, and we stopped at Door and Window to see what we had to do next for the upcoming bathroom conversion. We were told the strategy for the tile we want, and were given a tile place to look --- down by Home Depot in Natick. Where we dutifully drove, and hated, hated, HATED the place ("please register with receptionist for design consultation"). We went from there to the brand new Lowe's to see what they had for tile and storage cabinets for the new bathroom, and at least settled on a storage cabinet model. Then it was BJ's for cat litter, Loratedene, hamburger dills, what have you. Amusingly, or not amusingly -- we were in the 8 items or less line behind someone with about 20 -- who separated them into bits of 8 items, 10 items and 3 items, and paid three times with the same debit card. Now there's someone who knows how to work the system.

And finally -- I had promised Frank Oteri I would write a little rememberance of Dan Pinkham for New Music Box, and I did that this morning before Peter M. was coming out for a little lesson on his quartet; it's already been posted. We had our lesson, I did my Mus 103 syllabus, uploaded some files to the online course space, and here I am. Tonight's meal is a Szechuan stir fry. And that's the truth. Upcoming? 2-hour dentist appointment Tuesday (sigh), Winged Contraption performance and recording NEXT weekend, and oh yes, the start of school.

And -- sorry to bring this up again -- my jaw hurts today. There were some days in the UK when I had no pain whatsoever, and I thought that bedding and pillows were at least part of what were responsible. The new pillow is, so far, not working. And we had already trashed five old ones. So tonight, an old one to see if it's better tomorrow. Sigh.

Pictures this week are all from the UK trip, as follows. Martler and Cora's townhouse in Brighton, and the Brighton skyline at night take from the pier. Me 'n' Beff on the beach in Borth, all the others in the kitchen in Borth, Violet/Bitey/Bidge in Borth, Beff lookin' out the kitchen window in Borth, a Borth sunset, the other three at midnight New Year's Eve (note wind), Beff in Glasgow with restaurant, a bangers and mash meal I had at the Ubiquitous Chip, Glasgow Cathedral, Kelvingrove Museum, and Martler and me posing

with the headless statue in the London place.

|Remembering Dan Pinkham |

| |

|By David Rakowski |

| |

|Published: January 11, 2007 |

| |

|[Ed. Note: Just as the holidays were getting underway, composer Daniel Pinkham (1923-2006) passed away on December 18. We asked his |

|one-time (not composition) student David Rakowski, who was en route to Europe at the time, to offer a few words in his memory. – FJO] |

|Daniel Pinkham's death last month at the age of 83 was very sudden and shocking to me. I did not know him well—in fact, every time I |

|saw him I was a little surprised that he remembered who I was—but Dan was frequently brought up in conversations with any number of |

|Boston musicians, and usually as the source of a new, amazing joke or story. More often than not, conversations would begin, "Wanna |

|hear the latest Danny Pinkham joke"? (Example: "What comes between fear and sex?...Funf!") |

|When I was applying to colleges to study composition, my high school band teacher, Verne Colburn, a New England Conservatory alumnus, |

|said that NEC would be the best place for me, especially since Daniel Pinkham was on the faculty there. The name Pinkham was familiar |

|from a number of choral pieces that were in the school library (with his name in those big capitals you get on CF Peters scores), and |

|indeed those were very good pieces. At the time, I remember reading a publication that called Pinkham "America's most performed |

|composer." |

|I did get into NEC, and I did go, but it was not possible to study composition with Dan Pinkham there—he taught music history and early|

|music, but not composition. I therefore encountered him first as my teacher for a history of medieval and renaissance music class that |

|I took in 1977. I remember that he had an authoratative manner with the material, that his lectures were extremely enthusiastic, and |

|especially that when he got to the point of a substantial story, he would sit up straighter, cock his head a little, and smile broadly.|

|Three things stand out from that class I had with him. First, the absolute delight he had in pronouncing the Squarcialupi Codex. So |

|much so that he repeated it several times and had the class repeat it. Second, a sleuthing story that brilliantly demonstrated the |

|importance of historical musicology: It was about a four-part motet that someone had discovered actually had five parts. The fifth part|

|was nowhere to be found. Then research uncovered for what church and event it had been written, and digging through that church's |

|archives revealed a part book containing the missing part to that (plus presumably another) motet. The third hooked in to Dan's |

|parallel career as a performer. To demonstrate the difficulty of coming up with a suitable tuning system, the syntonic comma, and the |

|"wolf" fifth, he spent the greater part of one class simply tuning the harpsichord. I remember the strange seriousness of his |

|expression as he listened to each note, how he made the class confirm that each successive note was in tune, and the triumphant grin he|

|had when he played a circle of fifths progression and landed on the "wolf" fifth—especially when a cellist in the class grimaced. |

|I was also pleased that Dan had a practice of excusing a few of the best students in the class from the final exam. Because I was one |

|of those students that year, and I was able to use the time to write some bad music. |

|Since that class, I would frequently encounter Dan in the hallway—he always seemed to be rushing to something, head cocked with a |

|jaunty walk and jingling keys. But he would always pause to say hello to me and offer another joke. Once I screwed in enough courage to|

|ask him why he didn't teach composition, and he smiled very broadly and said, "I had a choice between getting performances and teaching|

|composition, and I chose the performances." |

|During one trip back to my hometown after this, I attended a high school district music festival on which was performed a big choral |

|piece by Dan (I don't remember the name). It was eclectic and very changeable, climaxing on a very thick cluster chord. I had not |

|thought it was possible to write such hard stuff for high school choirs, and I asked a friend how he got his note. He shrugged, "They |

|told us to choose a note, and that was my note." I couldn't resist telling him I had taken a course with the composer. He said, "Wow, |

|he must be really cool, huh?" |

|In the last twenty years or so I encountered Dan sporadically, usually when I visited NEC. He always had a new story, he always |

|remembered me, and he even remembered what we talked about the last time we saw each other. I continue to remember him as a spry and |

|lanky professor in his early 50s with that big smile and quick wit. Perhaps that is why his death caught me unawares. His passing is a |

|great loss. |

|*** |

|David Rakowski is the Walter W. Naumburg Professor of Composition at Brandeis University. |

JANUARY 21. Today's lunch was two Boca cheeseburgers with pickles, and a salad. Breakfast was a butter bagel and a cappuccino at Starbucks around the corner from Symphony Hall. Dinner was a Mediterranean flatbread pizza and a beer at Pizzeria Uno around the corner from NEC. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST TEN DAYS: 7.3 and 52.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Winged Contraption". I was hearing it all morning. LARGE EXPENSES this last ten days include down payments on the conversion of the pantry into a bathroom $7000, down payment on three new cellar windows $500, down payment on rebuilding of the mud room $900, 100 square feet of tile delivered $405, pedestal sink and medicine cabinet $135, two large shelving units delivered $340. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: During one visit to Princeton in the late '80s by me and Beff to celebrate the fact that we had gotten jobs -- we stayed at Alison Carver's house on the floor -- Martin and I got into a giddy thing where we made up nonsense jokes and laughed hysterically. Examples: What do dogs have that cats don't? Credit cards. What's the difference between a deluxe pizza and the Queen of England? Pepperoni on the Queen costs extra. What will you find on Nassaue Street that you won't find on a woman's back? Hoagie Haven. Bob Sadin, still at Princeton at the time, had heard that Beff and I were in town, and he called us at Alison's house -- at 2:30 am. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Since you can't see the back of your head, does it exist? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: gastronomization. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF coughing. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: hot and sour soup with plenty of white pepper. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK three basement windows falling victim apparently to termites. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 7. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Compositions. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 9. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is nothing, as far as I can tell, but the new rug gets covered with a lot of their hair when they play/fight in the computer room. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST 3 WEEKS: 0. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: Beff and I got engaged over the phone (in Pacific Standard Time). WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: "Party" is no longer considered an acceptable verb. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,229. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.24. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a chocolate-covered pine cone, one of the dots on any Seurat painting, a half-eaten popsicle, the pit of despair.

These updates are getting a little sporadic, and I guess that's the way it's gonna continue to be for a while. It is now SUNDAY, and I have emerged from a refreshing nap to start typing this in the middle of the afternoon. I will finish typing this in the middle of the afternoon. And tomorrow is my brother's 59th birthday.

Soon after the last update, I started piano etude #76, on the clave rhythm -- an idea suggested by Geoffy. While on the train fromWales to Glasgow, I appropriated Beff's moleskin music manuscript book to examine some poly-claves -- that is, clave rhythms notated at different speeds with respect to each other. An etude that simply used the clave rhythm (3, 3, 4, 2, 4 of eighth notes) as an accompaniment figure or melodic motive didn't seem it would be that interesting to write, play, or hear. So I strategized polyclaves getting closer and closer until a monster clave -- six of them, all at the same speed, separated by a sixteenth note each -- would come, sounding like a bizarre arpeggiation thing. Then when I got down to brass tacks, it seemed the next thing to do was start streams of sixteenths interspersed with overlapped fast claves, and then a be-bop solo over a clave accompaniment, and then, and then ... but I do go on. I linked to it in green on the left.

But before I started the etude, on Friday, Beff and I drove up to MacDowell fo lunch with Stacy, and, of course, to give more weird beer to John Sieswerda of the maintenance staff. We ate healthily and stealthily at Harlow's, but not until after we helped her figure out how to get the weird DJ setup they have in the library to work. On the way UP to MacDowell, we stopped at Flooring America in Littleton (MA) to look for some nice darkish blue tile for the bathroom, and we settled on some good stuff. We were directed to get 100 square feet, and it went for $3/square foot PLUS a shipping fee from the manufacturer PLUS a delivery fee. It arrived earlier this week.

Friday night I came down with a fairly severe coughing cold, and spent most of the next week re-becoming a connoisseur of cough syrups, antihistamines and throat drops. It's been unfun. The cough persists to this day, 9 days later.

And then it took a little more than three days to crank out the Clave etude, during which Beff made her pilgrimage back to Bangor. We had had a rainstorm here that Sunday, but it turned into a snowstorm in Bangor, and an ice storm to the north and west of us (Stacy said they lost power at MacDowell, thus losing internet access, oh my). So I copied my etude, etc., and got all my stuff together to begin the teaching year. Also started thinking about the orchestral readings that Neal Hampton so generously offered the orchestra to do.

The day before classes started, I had yet another dentist appointment. This time I found out that the dentist had intended to fit a new crown to replace the one in got in 1988 while teaching at Stanford and after crunching a "Hawaiian" chip. I nixed the crown idea, so I got some worn areas built back up, another filling, and some decay removed, etc. This ended the dentist portion of the year. Then I was referred to an oral surgeon in Concord for wisdom teeth removal, and they couldn't get good X-rays of the wisdom teeth using the usual method that makes you almost gag -- so I posed in the panoramic X-ray machine, on which you bite down on something while an X-ray moves aroud your head and makes a single-pass shot of the complete mouth. I now take these to the oral surgeon. One that has to come out is growing in, um, incompletely, and the other three are impacted. The oral surgeon will let me know what has to be done. And then to end the appointment, I finally got fitted for the Nygar. We shall see if that helps things. I finish being fitted on Tuesday -- soon after, I drive to the oral surgeon's office.

I went to Lowe's in Framingham for storage cabinets for the new bathroom -- we still will store food etc. as we currently do in the pantry, but the old built-in shelves are being removed. I bought what Beff and I had decided we wanted, and they were delivered on Thursday morning.

I have nine private students (eight composition students and a senior honors thesis) that I meet weekly, plus Theory 2. I teach as many hours as last semester, but am not teaching an overload, unlike last semester, when, as you already know, I was teaching an overload. So there was the usual stuff on Wednesday, and more on Thursday, which was followed by a faculty senate meeting. During Thursday, Beff ordered a pedestal sink and a medicine cabinet for the new bathroom online for pickup locally at Lowe's, so after the faculty senate, it was on to Lowe's to bring back.

Thursday night was the first accumulating snow of the season, but only about an inch. It was easy to "shovel", and the roads were in good shape, so I accepted Michael Weinstein's invitation to speak to his students at the Cambridge School of Weston. He was teaching a course in local composers (which is what he is, too), and was making them go to Saturday's BMOP concert, so I was there representing the concert as well as Boston composers. I played a bunch of stuff and did my usual spiels on those pieces, and then got a private school cafeteria lunch -- which featured slices of pepperoni pizza with ONE pepperoni per slice -- about the size of your hand, though.

And on Saturday it was BMOP day. I left the house around 11:20 and drove to NEC, as I had a dress rehearsal for my piece WINGED CONTRAPTION -- from 1991, but an actual premiere. At my usual lot, there was the sign $19 EVENT PARKING -- which I wasn't going to pay to park for an hour. So luckily, a metered space was available and I fed it two hours worth of quarters, had a quick lunch, happened into Yehudi Wyner on the street, and we both went to the rehearsal. I took the Edirol with me to record the runthrough from the back of Jordan Hall, and you can listen to it by clicking on the magenta link to the left (it is somewhat distant and very echo-y) -- later I'll have an actual concert recording, and later still an edited one from the recording session this morning. But I get ahead of myself.

The BMOP concert turned out to be a very good one. Three of the represented composers were at NECat the same time -- 1976-78, me Mike Gandolfi and Mat Rosenblum -- and there was Mario Davidovsky's violin concerto he wrote for Orpheus and a piece by Wes Matthews, who is an enrolled NEC student. I hung around for Wes's dress -- sitting with the composer-in-residence Lisa Bielawa, who turned out to be a lot of fun (she was going to have to emcee the pre-concert thing with composers and she asked me what question I'd like her to ask me. I said, "How did you get so handsome?" I asked her what she'd like me to ask her. She said, "how about a beer?") and watching the score. His piece was very nice and very clear, and after that I rescued my car and drove to the Midtown Hotel -- a block or two away -- where I had reserved a room for the night. After parking and getting my room, I went back to the dress rehearsals.

Where I heard the last half of Mike Gandolfi's boisterous and expertly orchestrated sax concerto, Mario's really cool violin concerto (the soloist was fantastic), and Mathew's four-saxophone and orchestra piece -- a wild and fun affair with some amazing sax playing by the Rascher Quartet. All this time, a strange kind of banter developed with me and Wes and Lisa, and eventually later with Mathew. So after the rehearsal, I went to the room, did a little vegging and a lot of coughing, and at 5:30 went to Pizzeria Uno for dinner. From there it was to the hall, where Lisa and the concert's composers had to sit on stage and be entertaining. And entertaining we were.

I was drafted to do the (I am told) usual brief remark by a composer at the beginning of the program to say how much composers like BMOP (I actually used the word "duh" in my spiel -- if "duh" is an actual word) and even (unbidden) made a plea for fundage. A bunch of Brandeis composers were at the show (as well as hundreds of other people), and it ended up being a fantastic concert, yet again. My piece was last, and for whatever reason, I and Gil Rose (the conductor) got TWO curtain calls (as did Mikey and his soloist).

There was a reception in the Keller Room afterwards, where I saw lots of old friends -- such as Peter Child, Dalit Warshaw, Derek Hurst, Lou Bunk, Nathan Shields, Andrew List, Jim 'n' Willemien (who wanted to have a brief conversation about dental stuff), Ezra Sims, Lee 'n' Kate, as well as some other Brandeis students. After that reception, a bunch of us went to where Cafe Amalfi used to be for a nightcap, and at 1 am, I made it back to the hotel. Good thing, too, for ...

...the recording session for Winged Contraption was scheduled for two hours this morning beginning at 8:30. Miraculously, everybody came that was playing in the piece, and we covered it in 20 takes lasting an hour and 45 minutes. I was trying to keep track of what was clammed (fluffed) in various takes (difficult with ears that wouldn't pop), and Lisa Bielawa lent her ears to the enterprise as well, thus discovering some stuff that had to be covered, and of course earning co-producer credit. And so then I checked out and drove home, made me some Boca burgers, and took a nap. Which takes me up to ... then I retrieved the several pictures I had taken at the recording session with my phone, got them ready for this update, and started typing. Here's me: I started typing.

Beff, meanwhile, stayed in Bangor this weekend because her faculty ensemble was doing a concert at the same time as BMOP. She, meanwhile, came down with the same cold (or we presume it is the same cold). She also did some shoveling, since it snows more in Bangor than it does here. She also ordered a faucet for the new bathroom online, and that will be the last thing charged to US to procure before the new bathroom takes shape.

This week features the final fitting of the Nygar, the oral surgeon consult, a faculty senate council meeting with the Provost, Beff's Maynard homecoming, and the beginning of the tallying of the tax stuff. Oh lawdy.

Winged Contraption, by the way, got a surprisingly positive reaction. Ezra Sims, obviously noticing that it's pretty thickly scored in a lot of places, made light of my program notes where I mentioned I wanted to try to "write less thickly" for orchestra, and that reminded me of my first symphony. Which I called Symphony No. 1. And the groundwork was laid for Marilyn's appearance in my piece with them next November -- as in, "so Marilyn Nonken is playing his concerto with us in November. Cool, huh?"

This week's pictures begin with an overflow from the UK vacation, namely -- two Glasgow at night shots and a store in a mall actually called "Ravel". Then we have shots from the recording session this morning -- Gil Rose, Lisa Bielawa in the control booth, Joel Gordon setting up microphones, Bob Schultz practicing his part (note the glockenspiel to his left with an extra octave), and the orchestra ready to go -- except for the violas.

And for some reason, this line got laughs: "Oh crap, there's a tuba in my piece".

JANUARY 30. Breakfast today was some rice link sausages and orange juice. Dinner was two Boca Italian sausage things in buns. Lunch was a little (plastic) bowl of Spicy Kung Pao noodles, prepared as only a microwave can. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST NINE DAYS: 1.6 and 39.9. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The MIDI of the demo variations I wrote for Theory 2. LARGE EXPENSES this last nine days includes a run to Staples for mailing bags and a big-big flash drive, more than a hunnert bucks. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I played both in Midget League (ages 9 &10) and Little League (ages 11 & 12), and was a good-hitting infielder with an okay arm. My last year of Little League I missed most of the season with my first asthma episode, but I do recall two things fondly: in our first game of my last season, I faced my near-best friend Mike White, who was supposed to be the hottest pitcher in the league. In my first at-bat I doubled. In the next two, I struck out (still, that was .333 for the game). In another game toward the end of the season, we were tied and went into extra innings; our team was the "home" team, and I led off the bottom of the inning with a bloop single (it should have been caught). On the first pitch to the next batter, I ran to steal second, and the throw went over the fielder's head. So I motored to third, and that throw went into the dugout. We won, and I scored the winning run. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Is there a mathematical formula for defining the line between that which is possible and that which is probable? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: tinkerly. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF coughing, still. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: whatever make the refrigerator emptier. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK exactly where all my wisdom teeth are -- that, and "third molar" to refer to wisdom teeth. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 5. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 10. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK would be a lot of seedless grapes -- which today I am finding on both floors of the house in various places. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST NINE DAYS: 0. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I was the leading goal scorer on my eighth grade soccer team (4, I played left wing). WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Red is the new black. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,237. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.11. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a little contraption that makes fart noises when you press a button, an old ladder we forgot we still had, a heat sink, the concept of carpal tunner syndrome.

Here's something unusual -- back to a Tuesday update. It is early in the morning clear and cold outside (16 degrees according to the system tray here), and I have already been to Jiify Lube and back. The part where they try to sell you all kinds of goods and services you don't want was remarkably cordial this time, and so I didn't get any goods and services I didn't want. And I had my own coffee, which was in a "Grumpy" coffee mug (another dumb Christmas thing from my sister). And here I am back again, and I haven't started being interesting yet (don't hold your breath).

What has probably taken the most of my time and energy the last nine days relates to teaching Theory 2. The first unit, worth a fifth of their grades, is variation technique, and so there has been the looking at the Mozart Twinkle Twinkle variations and listing the things that variations are based on -- this year the list got to 16. I decided to write my own set of eight variations on a melody, and that is Pop Goes the Weasel. See the green link on the left to the MIDI file -- the 7th variation is a waltz with some pretty serious hemiola abuse, and the 8th is a march. There are some intentionally goofy things in my variations, but technically they are near-impeccable.

So when in class yesterday I was looking over variation sets in progress, I was bummed to have to point out the same sort of technical things going awry that the three semesters of theory previous to this class were supposed to teach. Even down to the level of "there's no harmony here, either stated or implied" and ranging to the similarly aggravating "you don't double the leading tone in four parts, so in a two-part texture, and especially on a downbeat, it's even worse". As usual, there is at least one student attempting variations on a jazz standard, and that one is challenging -- especially when the accompanying chords occupy exactly the same octave as the tune. In any case, I am pleased that the themes for varying include the Chicken Dance (I don't go to enough weddings to know this one -- two students did the dance for us all in class to it while another student played it from the internet -- oh, that wi-fi thing can be dangerous), Itsy Bitsy Spider, the verse (but not the chorus!) to Que Sera Sera, and In Dulci Jubilo. Thank heaven, no Juice Newton this year (and thus none of that dominant followed by subdominant stuff that you have to be wearing a leisure suit to enjoy).

As was the case for the Theory 2 class I taught three years ago, the students are charged with making a reduction of the first of the three Nocturnes of Debussy. I gave them a little instruction in how to do it, mentioning in passing that three years ago a student discovered a published arrangement of it by Ravel, which the class got to use instead of actually doing the assignment. And I'm pretty sure that now-graduate could get a good price for it from any class member if she still had her copy.

So you see, yes I do like teaching, and yes my brain, already pretty gigantic (or at least elegantly configured) if you ask me, occasionally gets supercharged about things that are inconsequential in the larger picture (which, by the way, for the sake of this sentence, means ME). As to the song unit, I already have my song (it's not O Rhode Island, and it has nothing to do with a New England state), but this year there is a twist. A little more on that later. I am NOT going to write a sonata exposition, however -- that assignment comes as hammock season begins.

And teaching often spawns some memorable line, though for for the life of me I can't recall most of them. But I remember one because students are repeating it. After playing "Nuages" for them I explained that the usual rules of keys and modulations don't apply, and in fact most of the time the harmony is purposefully ambigous. So if a composer is trying to be vague, it's like, whatever.

Meanwhile, Beff made it back for the weekend, and it was a fairly busy and eventful one (when I learn what the distinction is between those two, I'll get back to you). The three operating principles for the weekend were: a) it's time to tally all the stuff for our tax return and the box is the size of a large drawer (actually, it IS a large drawer); 2) Dreamgirls and The Queen finally made it to the Maynard theater; and c) the pantry conversion to a half bath is imminent, and Jeanine (Janine? Jannine? Jeannine?) at Maynard Door and Window said to start clearing out the pantry -- and this was the first time they ever said this to us -- because, I mean, why would they?

So there was the backbreaking work of separating the materials into related piles -- Friday -- and in my case going through the checking account statements (we had only ten!) looking for all the relevant bill and check payments. Then there was the less backbreaking work of putting the amounts into the relevant lists -- Saturday -- and the mind-numbingly boring work of adding each list up -- Sunday -- and then determining how it gets represented to our accountant for the Feb. 12 meeting -- a future date to be determined. We always look forward to the process, mostly because "forward" is where procrastinators tend to look. The process almost always reveals a check waiting to be cashed that was thought to be a receipt when it was received, and which has been just sitting there in the drawer-sized drawer. This year, the amount of same was $250. We cashed it, and apparently successfully.

We also caught the Saturday matinee of Dreamgirls, and we walked to it (daunted somewhat by the 12-degree weather). For a movie with completely forgettable music, slightly better than average acting, excellent singing, and off-the-charts production values, it certainly was too long. And there seemed to be some implied redemption for the Jamie Foxx character, but when that happened you were looking at your watch and thinking, "why wasn't this movie over, like, a half hour ago". I looked into the souls of the rest of the audience (we actually brought the median age DOWN) and all of them said "like" in the middle of their thoughts, too. Afterwards, we walked home, daunted by the 12-degree weather.

As to c), Beff did a lot of putting pantry stuff into boxes -- my first discovery was Sunday morning when I needed more coffee beans, and -- hey, Old Mother Hubbard-like, the cupboard was bare. Beff said I could find some in a place I'd never, ever been told to look before -- "under your laptop". Or more specifically, in a box under the table where I often set up my laptop, even though it's in the traveling case right now, as it has been for the last five weeks. But details, details. Later, Sunday, it was actually above freezing (global warming? not this last two weeks or the next), so we took our patented 2-1/2 mile walk that involves the Assabet -- thus discovering that it finally froze, and that Canada Geese really like the edge of the ice.

And so now into this week, which is rich with incident (only slightly related to wrought with irony, still life with fruit, and dances with wolves), not the least of which is because yesterday was the last day for students to pass in work to resolve incompletes, and not the leaster because the orchestra readings for last semester's orchestration course are this Thursday evening. For the first time in many months, there are/were concerts on consecutive nights I both had to and wanted to go to, and that started last night.

And so they say -- last night was a Collage New Music concert at the Longy School -- why, back in the day (early 70s when they started), they were simply Collage. It was, as usual, a concert of very well performed music, some of which left an impression in the memory -- Olly Wilson's piece most certainly did. Tonight is a farewell to Lee Hyla concert at NEC, and that certainly is a must-hear. Add to all of these events the Lydian String Quartet Saturday night with Yu-Hui's quartet, and we have the Tetrafecta.

The assembled are probably wondering how I got this far in without bringing up teeth or dentists, so I won't disappoint. Last Tuesday I was supposed to get my new night guard (which I have been calling my Nygar, because that's what I do) fitted, and I drove to the dentist office in rush hour only to be told it wasn't back from the lab yet -- as of today, a week later, I still haven't been told it's ready. On the same day, I brought my panoramic X-rays to a dental surgeon in Concord -- in a building that shares a parking lot with the nursing home where I last saw Nancy Redgate -- for a consultation. And we scheduled a Feb. 9 extraction date, for which Beff has to be here to take me home -- I chose the laughing gas option not because I'm not brave, but because I've never had it, and I need new things to stick in the top paragraph of this update. They are just taking out tooth #16, a third molar, a wisdom tooth, a little thing I like to call "Terlanoo". I suppose if Beff can't make it to be chauffeur (weather, for instance), I'll choose the stoic novocaine option and grip the chair very hard.

And so this weekend because of impending pantry work, etc., Beff will take the cats back to Maine with her. This means, in a practical sense, that I'll get to work one minute earlier every morning, since the part where I take care of the cat litter will be eliminated. With that extra minute, I plan to think about what I can do to help humanity, solve global warming, and make us love each other just a little bit more. Remembering that it's the thought that counts.

During the last nine days, I also paid a couple of shareware fees. Amadeus, which I use for audio editing a lot, became Amadeus Pro, so I got the new version of that, and the old standby Vocal Writer has finally been written for OS X, and I paid for that as well. Vocal Writer calls itself the only singing synthesizer, and maybe it is, but it also has a whole bunch of other patches that sound like 1998 -- I'm especially fond of the gunshot patch. Back in 1998, when Vocal Writer was cutting edge, you could import your Finale files as MIDI files, assign instruments and actually "play them to disk" -- make a sound file of the MIDI data. It was unique at the time, and Beff used Vocal Writer with her video and audio projects to check out timing. Now Finale plays to disc, so that's no longer unique. Meanwhile, the interface of Vocal Writer, as well as the whole bunch of synthesizer patches, are EXACTLY the same, so there's a stratospherically high cheese factor in any Vocal Writer output. But I forgot to mention -- you can also get a near-hilarious singing sound for any of your midi tracks, and so I've done that a little with some existing things (these files were created years ago) -- and I also played a bit with the pitch bend parameter on the DEMO tracks to make the singers sound like nervous second-graders. My experience with these tracks is that listening makes you laugh hysterically, or makes your teeth fall out. So far I haven't seen both.

So in the magenta links on the left are a few MP3s of Vocal Writer stuff, including, in order: O Rhode Island; my demo song for Theory 2, on an A.E. Housman poem; the fourth of the Sex Songs, text by Rick Moody; the demo of my Country 'Tis of Thee with bad intonation; a Christmas song with even worse intonation. Enjoy, but watch your teeth.

Upcoming: Geoffy comes Wednesday, bye-bye tooth 16 a week from Friday, followed by Brandeis student composer concert next day, then a drive to NYC the day after that for accountant/etude premieres. So there.

Not many pictures were taken this last nine days, but we did get the cats experiencing a box we had gotten out to package pantry stuff (first two pictures, check the pantry in the background of the second one and compare to the finished product several weeks into the future -- whooooosh!). Then two Goose/Assabet shots from our walk on Sunday. And for the sake of padding, a couple of pictures from New Years Eve during the UK trip -- note wind factor as Beff opens champagne.

FEBRUARY 6. Breakfast today was some rice link sausages, coffee, and orange juice. Dinner was seared chicken marinated in Jamaican pepper sauce, fried onions, home fries, and salad. Lunch was $2 worth of Pad Thai noodles that cost $3.29. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 5.7 and 38.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The Waltz of the Flowers from the Nutcracker. LARGE EXPENSES this last week includes a cargo van rental from Avis, $54, and a piece of furniture from Pier One for the dining room, $300. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My first serious asthma attack was in the second year that I was in Little League. I remember being outdoors in my pajamas and listening to a Little League game on the radio (the St. Albans station was always looking for stuff to broadcast that was free), our team (the Cardinals) was playing, and I marveled when the least coordinated and least athletic guy on the team hit a home run. And I never did. For the record, because of fewer at-bats caused by this asthma attack, my stats for the season were 8 hits in 17 at-bats. Really. Some time later I wast taken for the scratch test -- to determine my allergies. Results at the time were cats (this is why the asthma attacks -- I had them until my junior year in high school), mold, feathers, peanuts, and dust. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: What is the probability that probability is an inexact science? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: fludge. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF Republican senators. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: whatever make the refrigerator emptier. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the distinction between an SUV and a cargo van. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 2. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 10. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK rubber on the little handle on the recumbent bike exercise machine, now taped over. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST NINE DAYS: 1. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I failed a vocabulary test in third grade; I used all the requisite words impeccably, but the teacher suddenly decided that beginning every sentence with "the" was an academically criminal offense. For the record, that teacher is now dead. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: "Downtown" describes a place. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,256. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.11. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the old gray mare she ain't what she used to be, Mighty Mouse, gorgonzola surprise, the head of a pin whose angels have deserted it for tenure-track jobs.

Fwiggin cold. Where's global warming when you most want it? I had completely forgotten that in previous criticisms of the weather forecasters I had taken to calling them "them what make". (Geoffy used it in a sentence, and that reminded me) And them what make were a little off on their game the last couple week, as two predicted snowstorms turned into nothing, and one unpredicted one gave us three inches. And meanwhile, the forecast doesn't call for the temp to go above freezing for the five-day forecast period. Why, I oughtta.

So let me take it from the top. This seems like so, so long ago, and yet it was just a week ago. I mentioned the upcoming Lee Hyla concert in the last entry here, and because of that Rebecca -- who now works near NEC -- queried about dinner. I informed that there was a pre-concert reception I was committed to, and she could go, too. So I drove in with the intent of parking next to NEC, fully prepared to pay the $19 event fee, and as I reached the straightaway near Rossini's restaurant, the WBZ announcer piped in with, "and let's hear about the SNOW we're getting tonight." Cue the peppy music. "Sloppy mess coming as a storm passes to our south. It'll start after rush hour and we expect a heavy wet coating of 1 to 3 inches. Luckily, it won't affect your commute". After vetoing the idea to park at the South Acton station and take a train, I got to NEC with plenty of time to spare, as rush hour wasn't amounting to much. So I had a salad (yes, I had a salad. Say that in unison, o ye of low two figures, I had a salad) and two UFOs in order to pass the time, at the same sports bar I used to go to for lunch the year I taught at NEC. Then I walked to NEC, went to the reception, and there was Rebecca (who by now must be astonished that I used her actual name, twice) with a name tag. Turns out it was an alumni event, and she called herself a 2004 graduate, though she didn't say from what school.

And my old friend Andy Hurlbut -- who used to work for Gunther Schuller during what I obnoxiously call my four lost years -- was the official photographer for the event. We chewed over some past glories, and he reminded me that he and his now-wife came to visit us when we lived in Spencer, where we swam. Other old friends were there -- many of whom I'd seen at the BMOP concert a week earlier, and I made it through two glasses of *free!* wine. Which made me totally plastered. Any thoughts of exiting at intermission in case of snow kind of evaporated there.

And the concert itself -- being that it was a Lee Hyla concert -- was fantastic. Certainly the best concert I've been to in years. His three greatest hits were on -- Pre-Pulse, Piano Concerto, Wilson's Ivory Bill. I was tipsy enough after the third of those that I gave it a standing ovation -- but turned out I was the only one -- blast those seats in the back. By the end of the concert, everybody else caught up with me for a big standing o. I still needed to decompress a little after the concert, so I got a cappuccino at Starbucks and two cheeseburgers at Burger King, came to the post-concert reception, and talked to Rob Kirzinger for a substantial amount of time. About what I don't remember. Then I drove home in the NON-snowstorm -- which by the next morning was still a non-snowstorm.

But that was just revving up for the rest of the week. Wednesday was a standard teaching day, as was Thursday. Thursday I was fasting so that I could get a blood test, and I did so. And then Thursday night was readings by the Brandeis-Wellesley Orchestra of final projects for the Orchestration class. I certainly had fun (I had nothing at stake), and Neal did a great job getting the orchestra through the arrangements. I was there recording the sessions with my Edirol so the students could have their own documents of this session. Of course, since we spent a whole semester listening to orchestra recordings by professionals who had rehearsed for hours and hours, they probably weren't ready for the sound of an orchestra of biology and sociology majors giving them ten minutes. But I found it to be a supremely educational experience. And, as the current buzzword goes -- experiential. (Ow, my fingers burn when I type that word)

Upon returning home from the readings, I found the requisite runthroughs on the data card, converted the sounds to mp3, and e-mailed them to the students. Geoffy, meanwhile, was here for the weekend for the Musica Viva family shows (Musica Viva is the local "we don't do Davy" group), and his rehearsal schedule gave him Friday and Saturday completely free. He delighted in hearing the readings coming out of my computer. Then I made him hear some music of mine from the fall. And there was beer. Beff got home before we were asleep -- a rare occurrence -- and we stayed up giggling for just a little while.

Meanwhile, it was a weekend to start getting the pantry and mud room ready for the big conversion. After Beff's morning dentist appointment -- which she followed with a trip to Tar-zhay for a towel rack and toilet paper dispenser -- we went to Door and Window for a consult. Here I revealed yet another of my secret desires since I was six (a knife magnet being one that we achieved years ago) -- let's get rid of the old refrigerator and get a NEW one WITH AN ICEMAKER AND COLD WATER SPIGOT please, pretty please. We were given a GE catalog to look at, chose two possible ones, and they will order whichever one we request. We (meaning Beff) also chose a style for the doors for the new closet in the mud room and a matching one for the soon-to-be-bathroom. Meanwhile, in the morning, Rick Beaudoin had come to the house for his lesson -- we have a weird schedule set up, since he lives way out west -- and Geoffy was migrating from room to room doing academic stuff for his academic job. At the end of the day, we walked to the Quarterdeck for seafood, and Geoffy and Beffy (soon coming to a puppet theater near you) went to see THE QUEEN at the Maynard theater (I didn't). Upon their return, Geoffy tried the "ancnoc" Scotch we brought back from Glasgow and pronounced it eminently drinkable.

Meanwhile, Friday's predicted 1 to 3 inches of snow was superceded by what I like to call "sun". Saturday morning, however, we woke up to an unpredicted three inches, which I promptly shoveled. It was only my second shoveling event of the season.

As stuff from the pantry and the drawers to the right of the sink got packed into boxes, it became evident we needed to create more storage space, and it was posited that a nice unit in the dining room would be the way to think about going. So in the morning Beff drove to Pier One in Acton to see if they had anything appropriate. And then the call came -- Beff's cell phone. "Rent a van. There's a big unit here, and shipping is a hundred dollars. We can get a van for less. I'm going to K-Mart. Call me." So dutifully I went to Enterprise, and they offered me a van for $90 for one day. I managed to withhold the profanity that such a price called for, and turned down their very nice offer. Then I got in the car and called Beff -- who by this time was getting groceries in Donelan's. "Well, ...... -ollars i- .... -ad fo- ... ... -ess tha- ....." My response was "get closer to the door. You're breaking up." ".... .... -an .... ..." So I had to hang up. Got in the car, was ready to come home and look up Ryder, and while I was on Route 62, Beff called and suggested a cargo van from Avis. Which is right in Maynard, and yes, for $54 we could rent that SUV with the California plates (which I was to find out later is also a cargo van).

So off down Route 27 I went, called Beff, who responded "Shoul- .... -o to K-Ma.... .. -irst?" I said no, meet me at Pier One, I'm the one with the gray SUV. We managed to get the piece of furniture into the cargo van/SUV and our old friend Actor-Man from Pier One helped us get it in -- only mishap being the beep beep when I unlocked it without using the little security button on the keyring first. Anyway, it was very tall and not too heavy, and when we got home we traipsed through the snow in order to bring it in the front door. Disassembling the box from around the unit was fun ("mmrrrrRRRIP!" it went) and of course the cats were molto curioso. I brought the van back to Avis ("So soon?" they said), and Beff went to the Pet Store for a new litter box for Bangor, etc., during which time I assembled the unit (eezy peezy). Later Beff moved stuff into it, and then we realized we needed a silverware tray -- which I up and went to K-Mart for. Success.

And THEN that night was dinner at the Tuscan Grill -- rich enough to make me queasy and tired-looking in the few hours immediately thereafter as a prelude to the Lydian Quartet concert. It started with a Paquito D'Rivera piece (mostly shunting aside development and transition in favor of ostinatos) and then Yu-Hui's piece "responding to" the Beethoven Op. 131. Yu-Hui's piece was very refined and full of invention, and that was extremely satisfying. We skipped the Beethoven, which was the second half.

On Sunday, after we cleared yet more out of the kitchen -- including the table -- Beff left in the morning, carrying the cats with her, plus a bunch of stuff from the freezer, and now they are in Bangor. I, meanwhile, burned CDs of the orchestra readings, avoided the Super Bowl and went to bed early, after spending a little while entering all the tax information into a format presentable to Jonathan, our accountant. Yesterday was a good teaching day, and we are DONE with variations. Tomorrow, the beginnings of writing a song. So there.

And as we all know, I get a wisdom tooth, a third molar, out on Friday. I chose the laughing gas option just for the heck of it, and Beff will be here to chauffeur me. Saturday is a composers concert, and Sunday I drive to New York. Tuesday I drive back. THIS Thursday I do extra office hours for Theory 2 students. And on Monday, while I am in New York, they start gutting the pantry. Life is full. Then you die.

This week's pictures include both cats being interested in the Pier One box before Beff burned it, that new piece of furniture in context, Sunny in the snow, that big box being burned, and the somewhat emptier kitchen as it stands now.

FEBRUARY 13. Breakfast today was a hot croissant thing from Dunkin Donuts and coffee. Lunch was Buffalo wings and salad at Neighborhood Pizzeria. Last night's dinner was at pizza slices at Sbarro, just off Route 84 in Sturbridge -- note that all meals were served at restaurants. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 7.9 and 36.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS I can't believe it's this, but ... Itsy Bitsy Spider. It's one of the tunes with variations being written on from Theory 2. LARGE EXPENSES this last week include parking in New York, $54 and new fridge, $1683.81. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I don't know if the "President's Physical Fitness" patch is still given out,but I got one when I was in eighth grade. This involved getting acceptable scores in 50-year dash, situps, standing broad jump, chinups, throwing a baseball, and I don't remember what else. I was woefully deficient in chin-ups, but I got one anyway. So did Mark Massa, the only other one from our class to do so. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Are there Anti-Social Sciences, too? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: pank. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF Variations. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: whatever doesn't have to be kept refrigerated. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK There are expensive pianos that can seem to be eminently breakable. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 5. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, home, Compositions. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 10. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK Nothing in Maynard, since they are in Maine. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST NINE DAYS: 3. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I played in the (high school) district festival when I was in sixth grade, got a (reel to reel) tape of that concert, and used to play along to it for months after the concert. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Endless summer. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,310. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.15 (MA) and $2.39 (CT). OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE A parade route, seventeen paris of tweezers, a flea collar, the right answers to tomorrow's biology quiz.

I have thirty-one teeth.

So the week began as so many weeks here have, by it being Tuesday. Which didn't mean much, except that I typed one of these updates. But not this very one you read now. Instead, there was stuff to do, places to go. And I don't know how important any of it was. Except that I do know I was methodically emptying out the mud room and pantry, placing the contents either onto the side porch or into the dining room, in boxes. It was one time that our pack rat nature (i.e. saving boxes in the attic) served us well. Finally, all that was left was some good food in and on the fridge, and I ate as much of it as I could during the week. Eventually, some old sauces and yeast and jams and jellies got thrown away for good.

Upon returning home Tuesday, I got my blood test results and all was well. For those of you who know what these things mean, here they are: Cholesterol 165, HDL 60, LDL 87, Triglycerides 88.

Wednesday was the teaching day it always is, wherein I introduced the song-writing unit and just barely scratched the surface in one half a lecture (which had followed a little bit more about "Nuages"). Then a very, very, very, very long meeting of the Faculty Senate Council (scheduled ending: 4:30; actual ending: 6:15), and, sigh, driving home in the dark. I hate those days I drive to work in the dark (M, W) AND drive home in the dark. Thursday had its usual teaching and a department faculty meeting as well, then four hours of office hours for Theory 2 students to show me their varations, and then at night Beff got back for her brief stay. I continued to eat whatever happened to be in the fridge, and Thursday night was probably pretty bizarre. Friday night was a hamburger, a chicken breast, some rice, and some salad for each of us. And that's where we left it.

By 9:30 Thursday night I was fasting (not being fast). For on the morrow was to be a tooth-pullin' extravaganza. And luckily the weather has been cooperating all this time (while bringing 12 feet of lake effect snow to upstate NY, alas). Early we rose, for the appointed hour was 9:15, and we drove to the oral surgeon office in plentyof time. The waiting room was crowded, and we sat there a good 45 minutes while everyone but us was called on, thus eventually making us the only ones there. Finally, a little more than a half hour late, I was called. And into a dentist chair I was summoned, I was told to remove my sweater, an IV was attached, an oxygen thing was placed near my nose, and a nurse made jokes. Then it was second year film school continuity: I mentioned that the oxygen thing plugged my nose, and was told it always fits that way. The nurse said, "and the second one should be taking effect about now". Then I was asked to get up from the chair, and I felt dizzy and doddering, and plenty of other things that being with "d". Immediately I was on the sidewalk outside the building being escorted to the car, and then was in it. Beff drove and stopped at CVS for what seemed like two hours (it was about eight minutes). I got a vicadin prescription plus extra strength tylenol, and Beff got a big tub to replace our toolbox.

After CVS we stopped at Maynard Door & Window to make sure we were having a meeting that day, and I got to be supported like a doddering fool (as I was one at the time), we got home and I laid down on the reclining chair and chilled out. While Beff transferred the contents of the toolbox to the new tub. Eventually I noticed there was gauze in my mouth, and Beff told me when it could be taken out (and it was, Oscar, it was). Later, a few details about my film-school continuity got filled in: I was under for about 20 minutes, there was a consult with the doctor that I remember nothing about, the nurse commented on my change purse, and somehow my sweater got put back on. And after two hours at home resting, I was suddenly starving. Pickles were the next to go. Within another hour I was raring to go, and back on e-mail, etc. And Steve and Jeannine came over for the last consult before starting the work in the house.

Saturday morning I did the fridge triage, unplugged it, and we were raring to go. Beff had to get back on Saturday for a concert at U Maine, and also because that's where the cats are. And the Winged Contraption BMOP performance CD finally came in the mail, so I made a few copies to send out, and stuck an mp3 in my webspace (see "WC perf" in red on the left). But wait, there's more.

That night was a Brandeis composers concert, and of course I went -- as did my colleagues, and Rhode Island, and plenty of students. All in all a very successful affair, with good pieces and excellent performances. Afterwards I met a composer from the MacDowell Colony that had come to the concert with John Aylward -- as he is at MacDowell now and had a viola and tape piece on the concert -- and the food at the reception was pretty much as food at receptions are. And I shonuff got home late that night.

But next morning I was up bright and early, and on my way to New York! The drive there was fairly eventless, and I got to Chelsea and into Hayes and Susan's apartment before noon. Which was good, I guess. Got a Subway sandwich, took a walk in the afternoon, played with the two cats a bit, took Hayes and Susan to dinner, and watched a bunch of the Grammy broadcast -- we were SOOO proud of the Dixie Chicks. And boy did we see a lot of Mary J. Blige and Carrie Underwood. I also thought it was kind of ... insulting ... that the Grammy academy would trot Ornette Coleman on stage to give him a lifetime achievement award ...and immediately make him a presenter for the Best New Artist grammy. Tacky, tacky, tacky. It made us think that Maria Callas died 30 years ago precisely so she wouldn't have to award the best rap recording at the same ceremony on which SHE got the lifetime achievement award. Then we were wondering why so many lifetime achievement awards were going to people who no longer had lifetimes, and thus no more achievements. But that was a story for another day.

In the course of making fun of Grammy presenters and advertisements, Hayes and I came up with a joke that's a variation on an old Yogi Berra line that only a very, VERY few people would ever get -- since the cultural intersections are strange indeed. Yogi said about baseball "Ninety percent of this game is half mental." Hayes and I said about Tristan, "ninety percent of this opera is half diminished". Rim shot. But a very soft one.

And why was I in New York? Why, Mike and Mary, who brought me out to Kansas way back in November, were doing a 1:00 concert on Monday at St. Paul's Chapel, way, way downtown -- a block from the World Trade Center sight. Well, that, and I took the opportunity to schedule an appointment in Manhattan with Jonathan, our accountant, that morning. Activity! Dense! Aaagh! So after the typical lolapalooza session with Jonathan (and free breakfast), I caught a cab to the chapel ($10.10 plus tip) and got a driver with a Jamaican accent who wouldn't stop talking about Anna Nicole. And there, inside the chapel, were about a hundred tourists, and Mike and Mary, on a stage, roped off, trying to do their dress rehearsal in the din of touristness. Which they did, just fine, I guess. The duo was doing myold flute and piano piece FIRECAT, and Mike was premiering two of my bangiest etudes -- Moody's Blues and Heavy Hitter. The piano for the concert was in serious need of ... being junked ... but Mike did what he could with it. His playing on my aggressive pieces was so aggressive that there were literally times when I thought he was going to break the piano in half (and in the performance he knocked the music of moody's Blues clean off the stand and had to restart).

I brought my Edirol to record what I could, and I actually made a brief movie of Mike playing the first 50 seconds of Moody's Blues -- and you can see the sound files in the red links on the left, and the movie in the magenta link. Mike's new colleague Forrest Pierce -- whom I also got to know in Kansas -- wrote a dynamite new piece for them which also got its premiere there (fortunately, it had very little banging). And Mary did a couple of very lovely solo pieces that I liked a lot -- including one by Paul Yeon Lee, who was there. Paul brought greetings from Rachel Peters, who had done an independent study with me at Brandeis in 1998. And so the world becomes smaller and smaller.

Despite the chapel being very noisy -- traffic, truck backing up sounds, subway, and old radiators hissing -- it was a fun affair, a great concert, and really kind of cool. After it was over, an old woman asked me questions about my piece as if my name were Gabriela Frank. Which it turns out is not my name. Then I cabbed it to where my car was parked, and zipped right out of New York. Traffic was fairly light, and it was a pretty dull drive, actually. And then I got home. No, really.

Today is usually a non-Brandeis day, but I gave 4 more office hours for Theory 2, and here I am. This morning, for the first time, a few workmen from Door and Window showed up, moved the fridge out onto the back lawn, and started making noises. Good thing I had to leave for Brandeis. When I got back, I went to Door and Window itself, paid for the fridge, ate at Neighborhood Pizza, and came back to lots of dust in the place. And saw a big pile of wood and stuffing (insulation?) in the back of a truck, as well as an external window placed aside for safekeeping. The old pantry is now ENTIRELY gutted, down to the studs and plumbing. Literally. And the mud room closet is now nonexistent. Exciting, isn't it? I hear some wiring gets done tomorrow, plus some plumbing, and the refrigerator gets delivered next Tuesday, or something.

Meanwhile. Tomorrow is forecast to be the first significant snowstorm of the season, and everyone is hoping school will get cancelled. As to here, it should be a sloppy mess -- 2 to 5 inches before changing to rain and freezing rain, which should make driving a breeze. Or something like that. And then another 2 to 4 inches on top after it changes back over. Yuck. Big Mike (ka-ching!) has already said he probably won't make it. And the theory students probably hope for cancellation, too, since that would give them the whole winter break to finish their variations. Which are due tomorrow.

Meantime, what's coming up? Well, some construction in the house, obviously, and incidentally, I used the FRONT door today out of necessity. Cleaning at the dentist on Friday, after a lesson with RB. Then a drive to Maine where I should be spending most of the winter break. And hey, my Nygar is still not ready as far as I know, and it was fitted when I had thirty-two teeth.

So the next update will not be within seven days. Deal with it.

Today's pictures are all from New York. First, Hayes and Susan's two cats Rasia and Fritz as viewed from lofty perches. Then, the Empire State Building viewed from Seventh Avenue Sunday night, and the spire of St. Paul's Chapel Monday afternoon. Next, Michael and then Mary in the dress rehearsal -- Mary is the one mugging for the camera. Then the big picture within the chapel, and Mike, Mary and Forrest after the show. Zounds.

FEBRUARY 25. Breakfast today was a hot croissant thing from Dunkin Donuts and coffee. Lunch will definitely -- DEFINITELY -- be Buffalo wings at Neighborhood Pizza. Dinner last night was Trader Joe's hot and sour soup. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 7.9 and 50.7. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Offenbach's Can-Can (because I was thinking about the movie "The Cutting Edge" (I don't know why) and it was their skating music). LARGE EXPENSES this last week include new thermostat $99, heating oil $357, today's New York Times $5, various and sundry cleaning things, cassettes, and cooking things for the Bangor house, unknown. UNEXPECTED INCOME THIS WEEK was $406 royalties for font payments from Daniel Will-Harris's site. Oh joy, that part of my tax return gets reactivated next year. BIRDS HEARD RECENTLY: chickadees, Canada geese, cardinals, and this morning I thought I heard the incipit of a song sparrow with the part that follows kind of mixed up -- if it is, then it is spring. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: As far as I can recall, the first pun of mine to get a big laugh was in fifth grade. "I have to go to the rest room. Yeah, to get a rest from the teacher." THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Why do they let Cheney talk? I mean, really. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sliddle. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF Dust, and passing through shrouds to get to/through the kitchen. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Real Pickles, lowfat cheddar cheese slices, Peets coffee. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Maine is still friggin cold. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 4. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 11. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK Itty bitty bits of wicker from one of the Bangor chairs. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 1. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I once owned green hightop sneakers. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Nygars for everybody. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,350. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.33 in Maine. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the letter "p", a seedless grape, the last place you would ever look, a snood.

I still have thirty-one teeth.

Does anybody out there actually know what a snood is? It's in the Bacchae -- so-and-so enters, wearing a snood. Turns out it's a fishnet-y kind of hair hat thing. And now I'm three times as smart as I was just 17 seconds ago. In three seconds I will be one-seventeenth as smart. And time marches on.

Now that it has been 12 days since the last update, I am pleased to report that the amount of real work I got done was as follows: nothing. But lemme go back in time a bit, and lemme splain.

Wednesday, Valentine's Day was indeed, as predicted, a messy slopfest of a storm. In Bangor -- later in the day -- there was a foot of snow, whereas in Boston there was rain, snow, ice, rain, ice, and snow, not adding up to a lot, but making travel pretty crappola. Here in Maynard it was a little dusting of snow followed by about half a foot of sleet, with some ice on the top of all that -- oh, just try shoveling THAT stuff, kimosabe. I got up plenty early to go to work (for I start at 9 on Wednesdays), and pulled out of my driveway with a left turn -- even though I was trying for a right turn. After passing through downtown Maynard toward the train station, I slid a lot on the teeny little hill past the Avis place, and decided it just wasn't worth it. I went back home and cancelled my teaching. On the WBZ website, which compiles all the cancelled stuff, it seemed everybody -- EVERYBODY -- except Brandeis -- cancelled school for the day. Eventually, Brandeis did cancel everything happening past 3:30, but that was too little too late. The conditions here were awful by then -- actually, they were awful by 7 am.

I used my day off to catch up on dissertation reading. Finally, I was able to get to a Haydn dissertation, and I dispensed with half of it while it was crappola outside. For lunch I though I'd just motor on down to the Quarterdeck, not suspecting that the sidewalks had yet to be plowed -- meaning I walked on the road when I could, but there were whiteout conditions that made that strategy eventually useless, so mostly I was goose-stepping on the sidewalk. And then -- the Quarterdeck was closed. So I ate at the Sit 'n' Bull pub, next door, and it was okay. It was very smoky inside because apparently the sleet had clogged the exhaust fan. And I motored back, and the sidewalks STILL had not been plowed, and the streets were nearly deserted. Then an e-mail arrived from the Provost (how did SHE get into work?) informing us that the Faculty Activity Report was due by April 1 and there was a new online format/interface for it, and I spent a lot of the afternoon and evening getting my information into my report. There is still work to be done.

Meanwhile, the work downstairs has progressed quite a bit. The pantry was gutted right down to the studs, the closet in the mud room was dismantled, and plenty of new plumbing was installed in the basement -- as were three basement windows, as it turns out. New insulation was blown in, new flooring installed (the tiles are not yet installed), and a hole made for the toilet. Plasterers, meanwhile, have done their duty. Our new fridge arrived and it is sitting in the middle of the kitchen because a whole bunch of old cabinetry to the right of the sink was taken out, and a new ... um ... presentation cabinetry using some of the old little door handles ... was built for the fridge to go into. This fridge is noticeably quite a bit bigger than the old one (AND IT HAS AN ICE DISPENSER I CAN'T BELIEVE I FINALLY AM GOING TO HAVE ONE WOO HOO HOO), and it will be fun, I guess, once all the work is done. The toilet, sink, etc. still have to be installed, but that's after the tile, and the dryer hose has to be reconnected to the window by the dryer. And, and, so much!

What the work has done is spread dust all over the house -- even a little layer of it into the upstairs rooms, and a fairly substantial layer in the living room and dining room. I had not known that that would happen (this is why the kitchen doorways were covered with tarps, but that was an imperfect solution), so I didn't think to close the living room doors (which are French doors) until too late (thankfully, there is no more dust there now than there was last Friday).

So back to our narrative. Late Wednesday afternoon when the storm abated, I shoveled the two walks, which was actually kind of a mammoth undertaking -- for two reasons: sleet is extremely heavy compared to snow, and it doesn't stick to the snow shovel (it tends to slide right off as you try to move it -- but luckily sleet also doesn't stick to the roof and thus no big whoomps later when the snow falls off the roof). Door and Window was contracted to do the driveway, and very late into the night they still hadn't shown up. Indeed, I awoke at about 1 and got nervous about being able to get out of my driveway in the morning, so I ended up not sleeping any more. Then at 5:50 Steven and Jeannine showed up, did some movin', and I drove to the South Acton train station, got the 6:20 train ($6 roundtrip to Brandeis, same as two years ago, and $2.50 in quarters to park), did my teaching for the day (two students cancelled because their cars wouldn't start -- being covered with ice and all that) and attended a faculty senate meeting. Then my train back was half an hour late (which is a long time when it's 20 degrees with gusts to 40 mph). I was, of course, being me, unsatisfied with the plowing job on my driveway, so I gassed up the snowblower and widened the plowed area, thus making my hands both fatigued and very cold. Wow. Then I returned to a dusty house with, um, no food. So I got a chicken sub at Subway. And then I (you won't believe this) ate it.

Friday morning was first a lesson with Rick Beaudoin at the house -- who was a little late -- which was a real trip, because it kept being interrupted by workmen (he had to move his car, and then they asked about where I wanted doors, etc.), and a dentist appointment for a routine cleaning. And boy was the cleaning routine! Vast improvement, no bleeding of the gums, etc (oh, they were so proud of me). And finally my Nygar was ready, so there was an extra 20 minutes as I was fitted. I slipped it into its very un-deluxe carrying case and into my pocket, got some groceries at Whole Foods (which is close by), motored back home, picked up my stuff for a week in Maine, and ... believe it or not ... I drove to Maine.

One pretty important thing we had to do in Maine -- since this was the first time that both of us would be there and cooking at home for a whole week -- was get utensils and cooking stuff. Beff had only one soup bowl, for instance, no good frying pan, and no medium size pot. We also got a nice griddle, a pizza cutter, a good spatula, and so forth, as well as snow melt for the front steps, a new thermostat for the Maynard house (it will be professionally installed this Tuesday), a special dust-vac for after the work is done (spring cleaning, such as it is, is going to be very complex this year, obviously), and even some exotic beers to be given as gifts. I meanwhile slept every night wearing the Nygar ("Night Guard," for those of you not in on the joke) which was alternately droolmachen and not even noticed (my teeth feel funny the first half hour after I take it off). And on Sunday I did the other half of the Haydn dissertation, and sent it off.

E-mail during the week was not that much fun, since it was all dial-up. ONCE I was able to piggyback on a nearby wi-fi named Caitlin, but otherwise it was slow a-goin'. And of course this was the week that everyone I know started sending links to YouTube videos. Rarr.

Also, the cats are in Maine so as not to be terrified of the workers, and the smaller space is fun for them -- they delight in going into the attic whenever they can (they do squeaky meows to get us to let them in), and in slowly destroying one of Beff's wicker chairs. Since Beff was not also on vacation, she went to work during the day -- and over the course of the week I got into the now-cancelled Showtime series "Dead Like Me" -- done by the people who did Wonderfalls. I watched the entire first season plus eight episodes of the second (and final) season, and really got into it. Something about grim reapers among us, etc. and the multitude of layers and irony in the interaction between dead/living and living people (i.e. the expected "I never felt this alive when I was actually alive", etc.). And music by Stewart Copeland (whom we had seen in England on TV as a celebrity judge for an American Idol type show).

We of course did dinners with various of Beff's colleagues, and I let Chip -- the band director -- give me the first note for my band piece -- concert D in all four horns. Chip also asked what "grade" my piece would be, and I guess I said "Six. I mean, duh." I don't know what grade 6 means, but that's okay. Six is apparently the highest. Ten of a Kind and Sibling Revelry are both Grade 6, and that would add up to 12 if I were doing that -- adding things together, that is.

The only obligations for me during the time in Maine were food shopping, cooking, going to SIX places in search of replacement Primatene for Beff, and going to a piano recital by one of Beff's colleagues -- who studied in eastern Europe, back in the day, and that meant that Bach, Mozart, Scriabin and Rachmaninoff pretty much all sounded the same. I left at 6:15 am yesterday in order to retrieve our held mail before the Maynard post office closed, and I was successful at that. And I had called Door & Window to see how the work was progressing, and they said they'd plug in the fridge so even if it wasn't in place I could keep stuff cold -- so Beff packed some fridge stuff for me to take back. Of course, the fridge is not yet in place, or even plugged in, or even with the blue tape stuff peeled off. So the porch is my fridge (as God is my witness, as a smile is my umbrella, etc. -- I see an SAT question here). Upon return I of course had to unpack stuff, and pass through the big tarps, etc., and shovel the front walk from the small storm that passed through here on Friday.

And so today is veg day, as far as I can figure. So I paid an oil bill and did an invoice for when Amy D and I go to U of Southern Maine, mailed them at the Stow post office, bought the New York Times at Shaw's, and got some Dunkin Donuts breakfast stuff, and now I am here. Thinking about a complicated week ahead. Observe, grasshopper.

Monday I do four regular lessons and try to get a time to work with Adam Marks at Brandeis (i.e. reserve a room) this Friday. At 1 I leave for WGBH in Boston, where there is a 2 pm sound check for an appearance by Amy B-D and me 3 to 4 (yes, it will be streamed on and on the HD classical part of at 10). Then Amy and I will hang out a little bit afterwards, as her dress rehearsal is at 8 tomorrow night. On Tuesday first thing I let a guy in from Dunn Oil in to install my new deluxe thermostat (it's digital and has 7-day programming and makes users feel superior), and later I have to motor into Boston for Amy's concert at Boston Conservatory (which the appearance on 'GBH is promoting) -- where I guess I'll do some live program notes, just like back in the day (4 and 5 years ago -- whoa, where does the time go?). Wednesday is an ordinary day except for an 8:30 meeting of which I can only catch the first half hour, and Thursday is as ordinary as it gets. Hey, I think I get to leave school at 1! But on Friday I have a 10-11 meeting, and then I meet with Adam Marks, who is going to run the new talking pianist etude by me (by, um, playing it) and I think I will bring the Edirol and videocamera to capture it. For those of you not in the know, Adam is doing Rick's Mood, Absofunkinlutely, and Not at the Salle Cortot in Paris on the 9th as his/my reward for winning me that Chevillion-Bonnaud thing last year, and this will be my chance to see if the monstrosity I created is funny, sad, funny/sad, or funny/sad/bad/stupid. And on SATURDAY I believe I am driving to the MacDowell Colony for lunch with John Aylward (and to leave a little beer gift for John Sieswerda), and I just MAY be his ride back to Boston. And that is the day Beff returns from Maine with cats in ... well, not in hand, but in cat carrier. CarrierS. I hope there's not much work to be done after that, since they are going to get all skittish about strangers again if they're back after this week.

I have decided to leave lots of pictures at the bottom of this update because, well, because I can. What we have is -- evidence of dust from the work on the coffee table in the living room, Andre from Door and Window, the ceiling fan when it was just installed, the naked version of the new bathroom, Cammy looking out the window in Bangor, Sunny under the covers, Sunny going to the bathroom and staring straight ahead just like guys always do at a public urinal, how the Bangor house looks with snow, cats looking out the door, chicken being grilled on the new skillet, Sunny on the couch, the bathroom now plastered and waiting for a toilet, the not-yet-installed new fridge (ICEMAKER! WOO HOO!), the new cabinet for the new fridge, and my Night Guard in my hand.

Also see the "Kitchen Movie" link in magenta up and to the left -- this is the little movie I took to show Beff how the kitchen looked when I got back yesterday. It's your virtual tour!

MARCH 7. Breakfast today was a B'eggel from South Street Market and coffee -- I now go there in the morning because Cathy, who left five years ago after having a child, is back, and opens the place up at a civilized early hour. Lunch was an Annie Chun's Hot and Sour Soup. Dinner was fire-baked frozen pizza. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 5.6 and 55.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS A little phrase from La Valse. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are none. BIRDS HEARD RECENTLY: chickadees, Canada geese, cardinals, a whole bunch of birds I don't know, a song sparrow, and I have SEEN but not heard robins. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In junior high, we used to play a lot of street hockey in Andre Menard's driveway. I had good stick handling and versatility, couldn't really defend. I was never able to make the jump to ice hockey because I had no skates that fit. In street hockey, the word "hacker" referred to someone who was wild and not careful with the hockey stick. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Does truth fit inside a breadbox? And do breadboxes even still exist? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: pind. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF Yet more walking through shrouds and reaching for plates. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Real Pickles, lowfat Peets coffee, crushed ice. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Global warming doesn't always mean higher temperatures. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 5.1. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 1. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 11. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK nothing, but potential lurks. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 2. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: Because I'm allergic to wool, I always wore long johns under my band uniform in high school when we marched. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: There's a place for us. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,392. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.42. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the small hands that only the rain has, steam heat, a pair of ballet shoes, the entry in Webster's for the verb "to pluck".

Thirty-one teeth is what I still have.

Our long national nightmare is nearly over, and our house is very nearly worth much more than it was three weeks ago. The conversion of the pantry into a half bath is complete save for the installation of a light fixture -- it was awaiting Beff's selection of one -- and the installation of the little shelves into the storage units. Meanwhile, there was enough tile left over from the bathroom that we also tiled the mud room, and the laying of the tile happened this morning. Meanwhile, the coat closet was rebuilt and storage cabinets were added above it, and boy was a lot of stuff painted.

And the new refrigerator WITH AN ICEMAKER WOO HOO was wheeled into place and connected this week, and there is hardly a more appropriate word for it than bigass. On Tuesday morning, the day after it was connected to the plumbing, I put some crushed ice from the ICEMAKER WOO HOO in our orange juice, and Beff made a special request for that not to happen again. Meanwhile, Beff had ordered a kitchen island online to replace the table we used to have in the kitchen, and it has storage space in it and on top of it, and just today we started putting stuff into that -- after wheeling it into place in the kitchen and methodically taking dust off the stuff that had been sitting in boxes in the dining room. There is still much to do in that regard -- as the grout has to go on the tile in the mud room and thus the sliding doors then go onto the coat closet, and THEN the storage cabinets in the bathroom are ready for being filled with the rest of the stuff, which also has to be dusted off before it's put into place.

MEANWHILE, Beff is on her two-week UMaine vacation and she arrived Saturday with the cats. Of course, due to all the stuff in the kitchen and former pantry where their litter box and food used to be, we set up the cat feeding station upstairs outside the guest room and the litter box in the (now we call it the upstairs) bathroom, and the early morning feeding time has been confusing for all -- as I've had to go downstairs for the plate and fork, the cats follow anxiously, and I have to come back upstairs for the actual feeding. Meanwhile, we are both allergic to dust, so the cleaning up has been pretty interesting -- and Beff has done by far the most of it. It's interesting seeing her with the sanding mask on.

But stepping back by a week or more, there is the trip of Amy D to report -- she came in on Sunday the 25th -- the day of the last update here -- and missed her early morning plane but made it onto an early afternoon plane on standby. On that day there was a snowstorm barreling through the midwest and passing mostly to our south. She stayed at my favorite, the Midtown Motor Inn, and was in town to do a recital at Boston Conervatory and a radio appearance -- with ME -- to promote it, on WGBH. She called to let me know she made into town, and meanwhile I helped navigate her to Boston Conservatory, where she had practice time. And then she did. Practice.

On Monday I went into Brandeis for my usual teaching, except I ended at 1 in order to make it to WGBH for a 2 pm sound check. I had actually REINSTALLED the Garmin GPS thing on my windshield in order to get good directions there -- turns out it was quite easy, and I got the last available parking space -- and Rick B taught my theory class (swimmingly, it would seem -- they came out of it with a new catch phrase: Holy Cross Relation!), occasionally tuning in during the radio spiel to hear my sweet dulcet tones (I got a CD of the whole thing -- do I really sound that high and nasal?). I got there just minutes before Amy, and got to know the retrofitted studio and all its cheap carpet fairly well. We planned out the order of what Amy would play (a little Ligeti, five of me, and all of Gaspard de la Nuit), and precise timing so that it would make a nice upbeat to the news hour, and as usual Amy played splendidly -- including all of Gaspard from memory. We talked, she played, we talked, she played, repeat. Afterwards we chatted a bit in the studio, then drove to the parking garage near NEC, and went out to dinner at Legal Seafoods in the Prudential Center (she got the cioppino and I didn't).

Tuesday was a normal floppy day, and I went Bostonwards in the late afternoon for the actual recital, parking in the usual place (see previous paragraph). Of course since I was at home most of the day, there was the usual give and take with the workmen from Door and Window, as well as errands to run, etc. And to return to the established timeline, I walked about around the Pru, and then happened over to Conor Larkin pub near NEC for dinner -- it's where I had lunch before every day of lessons I taught at NEC and I got used to the place. From there I walked to Boston Conservatory (by now it was quite cold), happened by Rodney Lister at a coffee shop (I guess he was going to the Boston Symphony), and went to the concert. There I met Michael Lewin, who had set up the concert, for the first time, and Yehudi came, too, and it was a lovefest. I did my usual spiel about the etudes before Amy's set of two groups of four. Oh yes, and Dalit was there as well as some other people I had met, and there you have it. For some reason, a lot of people were quite impressed with Rick's Mood, because it's highly chromatic and also nothing but major triads. Which means it were a might pretty.

After the concert, Michael Lewin took us to the restaurant in the Colonnade Hotel, and I had to leave before any food was ordered, in order to get home before midnight -- with an early morning schedule, after all. The drive home was its usual eventless self. Wednesday and Thursday teaching were also spotlessly clean, with a caveat -- which will be explained later in this update.

For Friday, I was scheduled to meet Adam Marks at Brandeis, where he was to play Rick's Mood and Not (the talking piano etude) for me for the first time, and I had reserved practice time. Meanwhile, a slop storm was predicted for us -- snow changing to sleet to freezing rain to all rain, and it was unknown when the changeover would happen and when the roads would be okay for driving. So we planned for Adam to meet me here in Maynard and both of us to go together -- which happened. He got to see the house and the construction, and hey -- by 5:30 am (of course I was awake that early) the changeover had already happened, and the roads were okay to drive. Okay enough, in fact, for me to get some food and imbibement at Dunkin Donuts in Stow. So the drive into Brandeis was fine, Adam got some practice time, and then he played Not for me. It was wild, wild, wild -- I made a video (he doesn't want me to show it to you) and a recording (I'm not telling you where it is), and forwarded them to Rick Moody, who had written the text, and we had great fun trying to make suggestions for what to do next (I think he suggested it be acted a little more -- and that is what Adam says he has been doing). Sometimes the piece is very strange, sometimes it's quite funny, sometimes it's almost terrifying. But I now I know how to make a minimalist text sound emotional.

And Adam and I presented to Eric Chafe's modernism class, as he played Absofunkinlutely for them and I did my usual spiel. I also pointed to the chair where Adam sat in his slacker Music 101 days (Dahlia was in it) and tried to give Adam a chance to let them know what the life of the in-demand performer is like. "Nice", I think Adam said. Anyway, Adam played it twice, and the second time a bunch of students stood behind him to see his hands. Then it was off the the Quarterdeck in the driving rain, and then Adam made it back to New York. Today I got an e-mail from him informing that he'll be interviewed on Radio France tomorrow and they'd probably play his Orleans performance of Absofunkinlutely. So there. The premiere of Not happens Friday at the Salle Cortot in Paris, by the way, which is rumored to be the "Tully Hall of Paris" -- an acoustically great medium sized hall. But what do I know?

On the weekend arrived Beff, and what you already know happened. It got nice and mild for a while and then a deep freeze started on Monday -- record cold, I believe, more like mid-January. And windy. Pretty crappy, if me is who you ask.

But before Beff arrived, I drove up to the MacDowell Colony for lunch with John Aylward, who is resident there, and we did Harlow's as usual, and I left some very expensive beer for John S, as usual. It was suddenly quite mild, odd for the day after a slop storm, and the sun in the early morning heated up the rain on the trees and other surfaces so quickly that everything seemed to steam. Since I had named an etude after a similar occurrence at the MacDowell Colony (Les Arbres Embues, aigu accent over that last e, and meaning Steaming Trees), I had to take a bunch of pictues of my own steaming trees. One is in evidence below. And anyway, when Beff got in, we retrained the cats on their new/old/new/old/new house.

To start this paragraph, I inform the gentle reader that I am temporarily on the wagon. So I have been wearing my lovely night guard regularly since the 16th of February, and it was okay for the first week, but after I got back from Maine the old mouth pain started right back up -- even to the point where it was occasionally excruciatingly painful on Wednesday and Thursday of last week. Monday of this week things actually felt better, but I made appointments with both the doctor an the dentist to scope out this problem that the night guard was supposed to help make go away, and yesterday, Tuesday, I finally got a name for it: TMJ Syndrome. TMJ is the big joint in your mouth stretching just about from ear to ear, and teeth clenching is one of the causes, as well as stress, various misalignment, etc. and the doctor advised ibuprofen and prescribed a muscle relaxant but suggested the underlying cause be identified and dealt with. I.e., avoid stressful situations. And she advised regular exercise to relax (don't all doctors prescribe exercise?), meditation, yoga, whatever, and once we turn the clocks ahead -- THIS WEEKEND! -- I'll have more light (and hopefully warmer weather than this deep freeze) to take constitutional walks, etc. Hmm, TMJ syndrome. It's got a name, and I have an ironclad excuse to avoid stressful things that people want me to do. And the muscle relaxant cannot be taken when you are having alcohol. Hence, on the wagon.

Speaking of stress-causing situations -- last week during a routine look under the kitchen sink for something, I noticed that everything under there was soggy -- and then discovered that that was because the drainpipe under the sink -- the metal part between the sink's pipe and the pipe going downstairs -- had corroded clear through, and anything going down the drain was just dripping into the little storage space under the sink. Sigh -- stressmachen. I had to put a bowl there to catch drippings, put up a sign saying no sink usage, and that made doing dishes or even making coffee quite a chore -- as I now had to bring the coffeepot into the back yard to empty the dregs and drain it. Etcetera. Sigh. Luckily, the plumber already hired for the home job finally fixed it on Monday, during which time the toilet and sink were installed and connected, and the fridge icemaker apparatus connected. On Monday night, I used the toilet #1) for the very first time, and delighted at telling Steve of Door and Window, and later Jeannine, about it. "Know what I did last night?" "I used the toilet downstairs!!!!" "Know what I did then? Hmm? Hmm?" "I FLUSHED!!!!!"

So it's the time of year when so much crap is going on at the 'Deis that people schedule 8 am meetings. I had such a meeting today, and it must have been a stressful one, because the old jaw started doing the hurtin' thing, continued for a while, and then felt better later. Oh yeah -- and when I got to the dentist, it was late afternoon and she was much behind (waiting room was full). So I rescheduled for 7:30 on Friday morning. Talk about early morning meetings.

So soon after I post this, I take the first muscle relaxant pill. Given my history, I expect not much. But hope for the best.

Upcoming: Amy D does the show again at U of Southern Maine on St. Patty's Day, and I'll do the etude spiel and give some composition lessons and a public talk. Adam does a show in Paris on Friday, as we know. Amy repeats her concert in Portsmouth the next day. Theory 2 students have their art songs performed in class on the 19th. And I meet good old friend (MacDowell '00) Anna Schuleit at the Harvard Faculty Club on the 29th for lunch to talk over details of me mentoring a Peterborough public school student for a project celebrating the 100th anniversary of the MacDowell Colony. That would be cool.

This week's pictures begin with two in the WGBH studio -- in the first see Amy at the piano, and in the second see the deluxe table where we sat for the interview. Then, see our new bath, the just-tiled mud room before the sliding doors go on, the kitchen island, the refrigerator WITH ICEMAKER WOO HOO in context, the toy piano bench with dust on it before it got cleaned off, and one of our steaming trees from Saturday morning. And better etude recordings from the Mike Kirkendoll-Mary Fukushima show in New York arrived, so catch those references in red above and on the left.

MARCH 17. Breakfast today was a Boca meatless sausages with some melted cheese, orange juice, and Strange Flavor Coffee. Lunch was a shared vegetable pizza, blackberries, and some limeade. Dinner last night was 93% lean burgers, home fries, and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 1.9 and 70.3. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The Smokey Robinson version of "Ain't That Peculiar". LARGE EXPENSES this last week are none. BIRDS HEARD RECENTLY: chickadees, Canada geese, cardinals, a whole bunch of birds I don't know, a song sparrow, downy woodpeckers, white-breasted nuthatch. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In the next to last week of Tanglewood 1982, we composers were asked to submit what we had written there to be considered for the big composition prize. As one, almost all of us decided to eschew the competition. It turned out, all the instrumentalists and conductors also decided not to compete, and so at the awards ceremony it was decided to use the prize money to fund a 1983 Tanglewood residency. I imagined whoever got it would have to write a LOT of thank you notes. But I never got mine, Jack. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: striggleness. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF TMJ, variable New England weather, wet feet. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Edy's Lime bars, spicy olives. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Songs are more natural for theory students than variations. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 5.12083503. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 12. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny now likes to sleep between the folds of the sleeping bag in the practice room/guest room. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 3. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: When I played organ at my sister's wedding, I was wearing a leisure suit with a color that has no name and wearing white socks with yellow stripes. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: I'm the new me. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,432. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.52. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the second hand on an old Timex watch, the third time I ever saw your face, holding forth, a fifth of gin.

As far as the number of teeth I have goes, thirty-one is it.

As I type this (afternoon of March 17, 2007), I am scheduled to be hanging with Amy D and Dan Sonenberg at the University of Southern Maine (that's in Gorham, 10 or 15 miles west of Portland) wherein Amy does a masterclass, I do a public talk and some private meetings with student composers, and Amy does a recital with some live program notes from me. But alas, a Nor'easter blew this way yesterday and today, and by the time we would have had to drive to Gorham (84 miles for Amy, 123 miles for me), the roads were crappola-rama and there was still freezing rain falling. Indeed, in the morning I drove to CVS downtown -- a nice 0.9 mile drive -- and the freezing rain made a sheet of ice on my windshield (i.e. I couldn't really see, and stuff, and I utilized a LOT of wiper fluid to keep it from freezing again, though that didn't actually work), and there was a bit of slipping and sliding if you went faster than 25 mph. So we cancelled -- or more likely, postponed until next spring.

Meanwhile, here comes the context. And let me start, like, around the time of the previous post. I started taking muscle relaxant pills for TMJ (such is as it says on the bottle), and at first there was not much difference (as I predicted). But after 4 or 5 days, things improved, I made it through this whole week without any particularly bad pain, though some stiffness was still in evidence. And for once -- for ONCE! -- I was at full strength, so to speak, for Theory 2 on Wednesday. I called my doctor, as I had been asked to, and was only able to speak to a nurse, described my progress, and I got 10 more to take. So there. What I can report, then, is progress (though still in the middle of the day I do feel something like pressure on my temples and I have to pop my ears some), and like Mayor Goldie Wilson, I suppose I can make progress my middle name. And I have discovered friends who had the same thing, all of whom got over it and sometimes get it back. Lovely. Some of them also have lovely night guard stories.

Meanwhile, over the 6 or 7 days following the previous post, little things got added to the big bathroom/mud room project that brought it closer to fruition -- a light fixture was ordered, arrived and installed; an old 2-prong outlet was replaced by a quadruple 3-pronger; the metal piece on the doorjamb that engages with the doornknob assembly was installed; new handles were put on the sliding doors in the mud room; and the plastic handle on the storm door in front was replaced (a worker had broken it). So as of Tuesday this week, the job was officially, and finally, finished. Hallelujah. Now we are waiting to see just how much extra all the other stuff was had done will cost us (e.g. tiling the mudroom floor, building the cabinet for the fridge, beadboarding and wainscoating in the bathroom, assembling the kitchen island) on top of the half we already owe.

So frigid Arctic cold came back for several days, and it kind o' sucked -- in fact, the coldest day of the year was about eight days ago (hence the low of 1.9 degrees, above). A gradual warm-up caused some pretty serious spring fever -- even to the point of putting out the Adirondack chairs last Sunday, getting out the bicycles and oiling/inflating them on Tuesday morning, and even doing bike rides Tuesday and Wednesday. On Tuesday it was just me after getting home from doing some office hours, and it was the shortest possible ride in our retinue. Wednesday it was over 70 when I got back -- and since I was feeling not much TMJ, I was elated -- and I took a longer one that also involved two significant uphills. Thursday rained and Friday snowed -- as did today -- so now the bikes are just laying in wait for the next warm day.

By Tuesday, the fourth consecutive day with highs over 50, enough of the snow had melted that the crocuses started to come out -- mark that on your calendar that this year Crocus Day was March 13 (last year it was March 16, and the year before it was considerably later). As usual, I went out to take pictures of them, pretty much indistinguishable from the pictures I have taken in previous years. And of course on Wednesday that became T-shir and shorts day (last year I don't remember when that was), which was my silly-looking attire for my bike ride.

Meanwhile. My duty with the Faculty Senate Council called, and that meant a meeting with the President of Brandeis University on Thursday afternoon. It also meant other various things that kept me at Brandeis from 7 am to 7:30 pm -- and thanks to daylight savings time, it wasn't completely dark when I left. Zoomaphonic! And that was my longest day there yet. I spent NO time there Friday, choosing instead to stay at home, watch it get colder and colder, and wait for the snow to sleet to freezing rain to begin. And, by the way, the statistics are: there was exactly a foot of white stuff (snow underneath sleet underneath freezing rain), with an extremely high water content.

So that meant that Maynard Door and Window came by and plowed out the driveway at about 5:20 this morning, and then at 7:30 -- by which time I was up, not sure yet whether I'd be doing the gig at U of Southern Maine -- they sent the shoveling brigade. Who did the schmutz left behind by the plow, and both sidewalks. I then touched up, anal as I am about this stuff, especially as the wide part of the driveway near the garage was not shoveled. So I took out the snow rake, raked two sides of the garage roof, the porch roof, and the other porch roof, widened both sidewalks with shovels, and engaged the snowblower in the very difficult task of getting this heavy white stuff out of the way -- it tended to want to climb the big piles, rather than move them out of the way. Later, Beff and I did some more pushing of the snow off the roof from the computer room (Sunny enjoyed tasting a little snow, too), so that ice jams won't seep into the alcove.

I couldn't help thinking that exactly a year ago as of yesterday, Beff and Carolyn (ka-ching!) and I were painting, leaving the pantry window open for the cats to look out, and resting on the Adirondack chairs afterwards. Oh yes, and taking crocus pictures that are suspiciously similar to this year's crocus pictures. While over here, the snow started around 11:15 and just would not stop.

MEANWHILE, continuing my habit to report out of sequence, since my doctor (or actually a nurse representing him) prescribed exercise, Beff and I went out walking whenever we could, including our 2-1/2 mile Assabet loop, and the Summerhill Road loop, the old train tracks, etcetera. And then we started to inquire about replacing the kitchen window for one that insulates much better and gives more light. We were given two estimates for two kinds of windows (flush with the wall, and bowing out, bay-window like) of which the flush with the wall version is considerably less expensive. So that is what we plan to do. In August. When we are in Vermont and the house is empty.

Meanwhile, Adam Marks's gig in Paris seems to have gone well. He was interviewed on Radio France and he spoke about my music, he said the gig went well and the music was very well received (which is good, since everything he played was by me), and as is usual for anything requiring technology, a few technical glitches with amplification caused some strangeness at times. Then I got word that the Koussevitzky Foundation didn't have the contracts I and BMOP had signed, which I had sent registered return receipt requested, and had a record that they had been delivered at 1:43 pm January 12 -- so we have to sign them again. Sigh. And meanwhile, our own PhD Seung-Ah got a Goddard Lieberson fellowship from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, and we all got happy about that.

And on Tuesday, Beff rented a van for too much money from Enterprise, and drove to Albany to get stuff from her father's condo that her sister was storing so that her brother can eventually put it in his new house. Right now two leather chairs are on the side porch awaiting their final fate. Since I was at school all day, Beff had to move all the stuff herself. Which shows that she is both strong, and determined.

So now it is two weeks until our Passover vacation begins. In those two weeks will be quasi performances of the songs written by Theory 2 students, and the beginning of the sonata form unit. That is fun, too, because where the quality of the songs is pretty good, usually the sonata assignments range the gamut from execrable to extremely good. And then there is more faculty senate council stuff, and a colloquium (finally!) by Yehudi Wyner, which has been in the works since at least 2000. But mostly I am looking to March 29 -- when I get home I won't have to be at Brandeis again until April 11. And what it is, too. Zounds.

So it turns out Mike Kirkendoll also put up videos of his performances of my two bangy etudes in NYC on his site -- I have supplied sky-blue colored links on the left to those movies, which I also retained the mp3s from last time. And the kitchen walkthrough movie will stay up. Since so many people (2) who watched that movie asked what was in the freezer, I have made a point of including that in the pictures below.

Speaking of which -- here we have yet another shot of the finished bathroom, this time with the cat litter contraption AND new wastebasket, followed by the refrigerator with the full complement of magnets on it. Next we see the Adirondack chairs on Monday (by Wednesday all that snow was long gone) and on Friday night. Next we compare a closeup of crocuses to a picture Beff took of me shoveling this morning (that's me, with the shovel, hence the "me shoveling" thing there). Then there is how Iarranged the egg storage space in the fridge, the Powell Flute Factory as seen this morning, and the open freezer and open refrigerator so all can see what we have there. Yes, there are THREE airtight drawers, and the bottom one has become the default beer storage place.

Upcoming? Grad composer concert next weekend, lunch with Anna Schuleit to talk about a MacDowell 100 project a week from Tuesday, and vacation, late in the day on a week from Thursday.

MARCH 25. Breakfast today was fake eggs, grapefruit, orange juice and coffee. Lunch was a pesto chicken and tomato sandwich. Dinner last night was a salmon entree, ice cream and espresso at the Tuscan Grill. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 14.5 and 56.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS One of the songs from MUS 103. LARGE EXPENSES this last week are dinner at the Tuscan Grill, $132 and a lame-ass hammock, $45. BIRDS HEARD RECENTLY: NEWLY heard this week for the first time this spring are a mockingbird (it perched just outside the front door of the Slosberg building, not more than 15 feet in the air) and Phoebes (in the woods near the local dam). POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: From about the time I was 8 to the time I was 12, the family took a 1- or 2-week camping trip every summer to a place with campsites, most often to Island Pond, Vermont. This involved a trailer that had two foldout beds and an extra room that zipped to the front. Always on the first day I would do echos on the lake and by the second day be too hoarse to talk. And usually I would have repeated dreams of visits of my friends from the planet Jupiter. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: triundate. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF TMJ, variable New England weather, PurgeGate. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Edy's Lime bars, Real Pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK The name of the two little pieces you put on the window to latch it closed. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 2. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Reviews 4, Performances. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 12. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They really like sitting in the windowsill of any window that is open. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 2. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I prefer laceless sneakers to laced sneakers. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Snowing not allowed after March 21, and especially not at night. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,332. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.55. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a mass of burning tires, a leaf that survived the winter without falling off the tree, the battery you forgot to buy for your flashlight, an old recording of "Maniac" by Michael Sembello.

Spring and winter are currently doing one of those Clash Of the Titans things they traditonally do this time of year. I blithely report that my spring fever is normally more severe than that of those around me, and one symptom of that is the sheer volume of crocus pictures I take. This year, however, I am astonished at how hardy the crocuses (croci?) are. For you see, since on the 17th we got exactly a foot of snow dumped on us, covering the crocuses until Friday the 23rd, and when a small bit of snow around a stand of crocuses melted, the crocuses came right up. In fact, all the croci that were up a week ago Tuesday were back on Friday, and this time there is also a stand of daffodils way in the back making their first appearance. True to form, I have those crocuses in pictures now in both the pre- and post-storm time periods. I can't tell the difference just looking at them. Oh yeah, and the rhubarb is making an appearance, too.

But back to more mundane things. Last Sunday, the day after the storm, the roads were certainly passable, and I took that opportunity to drive to my office and have two and a half office hours for students who were finishing up their songs -- their second project for Mus 103 (the two projects so far have counted as 45% of their grades). I got quite a few customers, and things shaped up rather well. For you see, on Monday we had Slosberg Hall reserved during class time for performances (more like readings in some cases) of the final songs on stage, and accompanied by Seunghee -- who was paid out of the fund we call "Davy's pocket". You may remember that Seunghee was also the housesitter when Beff and I were in England. In any case, I recorded them all with the old Edirol, and had burned CDs to hand out in class on Wednesday. The styles of the songs ranged from Handel and Mozart to Brahms, with some of them mysterious in their sourcing. By far the most popular poet for texts: Wordsworth.

Tuesday's only excitement -- other than the excitement of it not being a teaching day -- was driving all the way to BJ's and Whole Foods for staples and Whole Foods had a whole bunch of new and novel grilling selections, some of which I chose for homewardness. Indeed, the swordfish kebabs became yesterday's lunch, and they were yummy (just like sevenths and ninths!), and some of the pesto stir fry chicken went into sandwiches for today's lunch. I also tried the "People's Pizza" they now sell -- two flat pizza crusts and packets of sauce and cheese. I went for the Romano variety, which meant the sauce was a puttanesca, and it was quite good. I had both of them at various meals, so there was none left for Beff, so there. And it's the only pizza I ever had that specified for the temperature of the oven to be 500 degrees.

Wednesday was a regular teaching day (with extra teaching because Yu-Hui was in Miami and I introduced augmented sixth chords to her class), and was warmer as well, and that meant a little lounging on the porch when I returned home. Thursday was a day I actually dressed up, as I was appearing with my homeys on the Faculty Senate Council before the Board of Trustees, and that meeting was successful. Then was my regular teaching for Thursday, followed by a Senate Faculty meeting, and a GREAT colloquium by Yehudi Wyner. Great because the music was so good, but also great because I finally copped a recording of his piano concerto. Yes. Alas, it was dark-ish by the time I got home, so no spring fever sorts of stuff. Big Mike (ka-ching!) went to the colloquium, and I invited him to see the new bathroom, fridge, etc. on his way home, and he did, Oscar, he did.

By Tuesday, by the way, temperatures were ranging back into the normal area, and that meant lots of wet and spritzy roads. It also meant long periods where the side porch door could be open, and of course melting of the snow in the yards. During the week, our local retriever Molly had popped by several times in search of dog bones -- her tracks were evident, as she always took the same route. By Friday, when the melting had reached a torrent, her tracks became a path, and then eventually they disappeared. Meanwhile, Beff had ordered a new hammock to put on our frame, and it arrived, so I took it out, assembled the frame, and tried to stretch the hammock on it -- sigh, it was short by about two feet. So off I went to the hardware store for some chains to extend it, and that's where I found out about the chain link piece you can get with the gap that has a screwed-in piece (too hard to describe, but if you know what it is, you know what it is). I installed the chains and the hammock, and ... major sag right away. So I tightened it, got on, and more sagging ... so I decided to put the old grody one up, and I laid there a little while (even taking my usual first-hammock-of-the-year with a beer shot) and noticed that the hammock smelled a little like a cat had marked it while it had been laying in the garage. So back went the new stretchy one. Which we are going to have ONLY until another one, a proper one, arrives. I made Beff order a new one online (also some bowls, but that's a horse of a different color).

My Home Improvement accomplishment of the week was replacing the SASH LOCK on the back window in the computer room. That is the name for that piece that latches that allows you to close the window tight. The hardware itself costs $2.29. The act of fixing it without throwing things: priceless.

Meanwhile, Beff was delayed a day by UMaine stuff, so she didn't get back until Friday night. Saturday morning she saw the hammock and realized she'd made a mistake getting the underpriced one. I'd said I'd be surprised if it lasted the summer. She sat on it and said she'd be surprised if it lasted a month. So she steeled herself to order the good one she should have ordered in the first place. Meanwhile, we've got the new springy, saggy one for a while. Beff got her hair cut downtown, we had a nice swordfish kebab lunch, Maynard Door and Window came over to look at the back porch whose floor we think needs replacing, and the attic windows which I also want replaced, and then we took a bike ride -- my third, Beff's first, of the season. Yes, plenty of spritz there, as snow melts onto the road, dontcha know. When all was said and done, it was time to get ready for the graduate composers concert at Brandeis. Beff had made reservations at the Tuscan Grill in advance, so that was where we up and went for dinner. We both did the salmon special ($26!) and had Pinot Grigio.

Meanwhile, winter was extending a last-gasp and sinister tentacle. A batch of energy was supposed to swoop in from the U.P. of Michigan and drop a quick inch or three of snow to our area overnight, and the forecast on the Weather Channel under the "snow advisory" said it would start as rain, mix with snow, and change to all snow at around 10 at night. Assuming it was the usual grad concert over by 9:30, then it looked like a fine drive home. With just a bit of dusting to deal with.

So after dinner when we left the restaurant there was just the slightest spritzing going on. Beff and I waited in my office, and were surprised to be accosted by KEN! Ueno, just in town from Rome. And Hillary, in the audience! Yes, they were at Brandeis to hear the premiere of Lou Bunk's piece, a piano trio that is his dissertation, and for which I was the first "reader". Beff insisted that I show Ken my movie of Adam Marks playing the talking pianist etude, so I played part of it, and obviously from Ken's face he didn't know how to react. So we up and went to the concert, and we sat right in back of Hillary and Ken, and next to Yu-Hui. Nothing seemed amiss, but there WERE seven pieces (not unusual) listed, and I knew Lou's was about 15 or 20 minutes.

So there were four pieces on the first half. And they were all long. Normally Lou's music stands out in these kinds of concerts because when it's surrounded by skitterish music that some of the composers at Brandeis write, it seems much more relaxed and introspective. But nearly everything was quite slow. And quite long. So Lou's piece didn't stand out as it usually does. Just as the second half was about to begin, AT NINE FRIGGIN FORTY, I looked outside and saw that it was already snowing. Coming back inside and noting that there were only three pieces on the second half, two of which I advised as compositon teacher, things looked good for a not-so-bad exiting time. Alas, TEN FRIGGIN FIFTY-FIVE was when the concert ended -- and despite a lot of very lovely stuff that was on that second half -- some of it that was lovely enough to make me NOT think of the long twisty and slippery drive ahead of me -- I thought mostly about -- the long twisty and slippery drive ahead of me. I also did some thinking that I should have found an excuse to leave and promise to catch the tape. So I'll be making my apologies to the composers who wrote some lovely stuff that I didn't care about because it was snowing.... and anyway, we exited directly, got into traffic, and the roads were very good until we crossed the Waltham line, and then they became difficult to see because it seemed like the car was being pelted by albino muffins and lots of them (big puffy snowflakes for those of you who tend to take me literally), and shortly a tailgater in a truck was riding my bumper. Not a good situation for one with TMJ (I tried to unclench when possible, but it took great concentration to do that AND drive AND try to see beyond the albino muffins). But luckily, I didn't feel the wheels slipping under me until we were almost in Maynard.

We arrived home in good shape, if a little harried.

Nota Bene. Had to stop typing to go to Kate Housman's horn recital. It ended with the Brahms trio, which was good.

...if a little harried. Went to bed, got up, had fake eggs etc. (see above) and started the big round walk, which was cut short due to footgear. Then Beff went to Maine for her teaching week, and I started to type this. And eventually, finished.

Upcoming: with the exception of a Friday morning meeting with Rick B., my vacation begins approximately 1 pm on Thursday, and continues until the 10th of April. Bitchin. Tuesday I meet Anna at the Harvard Faculty Club to talk about some sort of MacDowell 100 project. Gotta get the piano tuner over. And my piano homeys gave me a couple of great etude ideas for work during the break (Corey, in Vancouver, suggested an echo etude, and Mike, in Lawrence, Kansas, re-suggested a mirror etude). Meanwhile, Beff goes next weekend to a festival in Kearney, Nebraska (she pronounces it "Carney"), and it turns out my homeys in Kansas are doing "Gli Uccelli" on that festival. Is that cool, or what?

Note all of you that the "Kitchen Walkthrough" movie is still up, in case you want the virtual tour of all our new stuff. This pictures begin with the yard late Wednesday where you can see Molly (the dog)'s accustomed path to look for bones as well as my footprints from when I raked the garage, etc. -- then there's Friday's First Hammock And Beer picture, the hammock this morning (you're supposed to see that it is snow-covered), the crocuses peeking out as soon as the snow over them melts, closeups of crocuses and the rhubarb just starting, and two shots from this morning's walk -- near the river reflection shot, and yet another dam picture.

APRIL 6. Breakfast today was rice link sausages with melted cheese, potato pancakes, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was a peppery hot and sour soup. Dinner last night was ... hmm, I think I forgot to have dinner. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 24.1 and 66.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS News theme music for Live at 5 (because one of the gestures I used in a piano etude just written remind me of it). LARGE EXPENSES this last two week are the balance of the cost of the bathroom conversion, $10,322, a duplexer for the big printer, $483, high-quality hammock $110 and piano tuning, $90. BIRDS HEARD RECENTLY: grackles, red winged blackbirds, red-eyed vireo. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My first year living at Berrien Court in Princeton -- my second year of graduate school -- David K and I had a Thanksgiving dinner at the house with all the people we knew not going home for Thanksgiving invited. It was Beff's first year at Princeont, too, and Steve Dewhurst was hanging around trying to finish his Masters degree, and he brought a frozen turkey and tried to thaw it fast. Thus, serving was a little later than planned -- actually, about three hours later than advertised. For some reason, Mona Solomon, a sociology PhD student that lived in the grad dorm with us and who dropped out, was around for the dinner, too. We decided to give out "awards", and the only one I remember was what we gave Beff -- "Nookie of the Year". THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Narcissitude. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF TMJ, snow in April. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Edy's Lime bars, Sun Tea mixed with real lemonade, frozen Trader Joe's stuff. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK The number of cigarette butts left behind by the bathroom workers, now that the snow is gone. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 1.11111. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Reviews 4, Performances, Bio, Compositions, first page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 12. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny loves growling at and chasing away a local tiger cat, and now BOTH cats give little pathetic "mews" when I say the word "treats". RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 4. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: In 1975 after a I had had measles for a month, my weight dropped to 92 pounds -- and I was the same height I am now. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: No matter what it is, atonal composers get in free. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,342. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.59. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a downward spiraling trend, a pair of left-footed boots, the maple syrup left over when you throw out the bottle, a frozen rope.

Happy Good Friday! It's not every day that I can use the sequence "happy good" in a sentence without being ungrammatical or silly-sounding, so I am posting TODAY. Happy good! Happy good! Happy good! There has been a lapse in reportage, so there is plenty about which to talk.

First, on Tuesday the 27th I got all happy good dowdied up -- wearing the silverish shirt, the silverish tie, and the nice suit, to have lunch at the Harvard Faculty Club with Anna Schuleit. I actually drove in a little early in order to have some time in Harvard Square for shopping and browsing, and oddly enough, I ran into my colleague Allan Keiler in the classical record section at Newbury Comics. It so happens that I could pretty much grab all the classical records they had in stock (my clumsy way of saying it's a small section), but I did pick up the complete Schumann piano music, played by Ashkenazy ("he bangs! Tell me if you like it", said Allan) and a bunch of Chopin played by Arrau (yes, all dead composers), as well as a Signal to Noise magazine (article on Milton Babbitt by my homey Christian) and a box of bandages made to look like bacon strips (I figured it'd be nice for the downstairs medicine cabinet). I also got a few wind-up toys for the picture window in the bathroom (soon not to be a picture window) that look like characters from a Beatrix Potter novel (how many first names do you know that end in "x"?) -- something cute about an upright Peter Rabbit walking toward you in that inexorable way.

And then was lunch, and the day was the warmest one of this recent time period -- I remember it feeling a little close as I waited at the door. Both Anna and I had the buffet, while she explained to me her project for the MacDowell Centennial around medal day in August (as it turns out, on my eighteenth wedding anniversary). Ten former fellows (since I've been there eight times, then that makes me a fellow fellow fellow fellow fellow fellow fellow fellow -- suddenly I hear "Try to Remember" from the Fantastiks (which could end with an "x", couldn't it?)) to be matched with schoolchildren from Peterborough on 4-minute creative projects (those of you not good at doing math in your heads should know that adds up to forty minutes), along with a whole bunch of working telephones set up everywhere (actually, a hundred -- did I mention Centennial?) that will ring, etcetera. What I liked was in the project's prospectus it was mentioned that the phones reference "The Colony's signature privacy"-- how very Madison Avenue. Anyway, I said I'd do it, and so there and what it is, too. Also it was left open when she and her boyfriend would come to our house for something. Later that week I was asked for a bio for the Medal Day program, and I did my signature humor -- as well as my signature making sure the staff is acknowledged. It ends "When he grows up he wants to be like John Sieswerda or Blake Tewksbury." Which is screamingly funny if you know the MacDowell Colony. And then, I came home, all dowdied up (fellow fellow fellow....).

The rest of the week was spent with my signature teaching, some of it bodaciously good, the rest of it was good when it was very good. My exit from Brandeis at 1 on Thursday was to represent the beginning of my vacation time, and mostly it did. Beff got in late that night, and on Friday we did what exercise we could -- we went to Maynard Door and Window to choose a "composite" wood for the new floor for our back porch -- which we intend to have replaced before the summer -- and in the afternoon we took a bike ride -- one not too long, as it was Beff's first of the year. Otherwise, we did what married couples do (you know, married stuff), and I spent a long time in the afternoon on the hammock -- which I kept moving as the shadows moved. And -- oh yes! The cheap-ass hammock is now in the attic, as a new, crispy one with good, thick rope arrived and I installed it. And I used it as often as I could (which has certainly not been in the last week. Later I will splain). And meanwhile, Beff read the New Yorker magazine in an Adirondack chair. I brought out the remaining lawn furniture, and Beff did a lot of vacuuming (which she always does).

But even more fun was in evidence mid-day! Ross was in town, and he happened by for lunch (he is now a vegetarian, and we'll see how long that lasts), and he pulled up just as we were putting a new tarp over the storage thing in the back yard ("Aaa-ooOOOh", I was saying as I was trying to get it over the top). I made some CD copies for him, gave him some CDs, we walked to a Thai restaurant in town (he was with us when we stopped at Door and Window), we came back, and we talked about stuff. And as you may have read in this space last November as a prediction -- he reported that they hired Kurt Rohde at UC Davis. Big duh there, by far the best composer on the market this year. Meanwhile, I had told him that on several evenings, we had gotten calls from the 752 area code with a number I didn't recognize, and I asked him if that was his, and he said yes, it's a Davis area code and it may have been Sam or Laurie calling. So later that night I picked up when that number called, and ... it was a fund-raising call. Note to college new music ensembles: DON'T give the numbers of your donors to the fundraising office, because they may just stop giving. We won't, of course -- I was speaking hypothetically, and that makes me think -- is there such a thing as hyperthetically? Anyway, Ross had to get on the road to hear a BMOP dress rehearsal in, of all places, Amherst. So he did, Oscar, he did.

Meanwhile, Beff had a very early plane to catch on Saturday morning, and she was a little worried about getting the right driving route to the airport -- SO, I said I'd get up and get her onto 128 in my car, while she continued to Logan, parked, and took her flight. We left at 4:10 am, and I was beginning to work by 5. FIVE!!! Beff, meanwhile, flew to Denver, changed planes, and then took Turbulence Air to Kearney, Nebraska, where she was to have a piece played in their new music festival. She spent Sunday in Hastings, where her college roommate now lives (and she's also the minister who married us those -- guess how many? Answer is earlier in this rambling narrative -- years ago. And meanwhile, my homeys from the U of Kansas were also doing a concert in the same festival. Including not one, but TWO pieces of mine: Heavy Hitter (etude 73) AND Gli Uccelli di Bogliasco. So they got to meet Beff, and they remarked that she had very good English. Another sign of what happens with married couples through time was evident -- I had told Mary Fukushima (one of the homeys) that I'd write her a key-slap etude for flute, just because I wanted to use the title "Slap Happy". When Mary told Beff I was writing her a key-slap piece, Beff said, "Why? So he can call it 'Slap Happy?'" In any case -- things happened, and Beff got back VERY late Tuesday night, after which she drove to Maine. Arriving (as I called it) at 3 am. Just before THE STORM. But I am getting ahead of myself.

Since I didn't do diddly during the February vacation, I was bound and determined (happens just before bound and gagged, and just after gagged with a spoon) to get some compositional work done. So I asked several of my etude-playing people for etude ideas, and I followed through on two of them. Corey Hamm suggested an echo etude, and Mike Kirkendoll (also of the U of Kansas posse) suggested a mirror etude. So since I had had a mirror idea floating around since the first time Mike suggested that (around the time of my seventeenth wedding anniversary), and since I also needed to write the ONE etude in Book 8 that I can play, I chose to write a slow mirror etude and a fast one. Meaning I wrote THREE since last Thursday after I got home from school. In fact, dear reader, you can look at all three by following the fatigue-green numbers 77, 78 and 79 on the left, and even chuckle at the MIDI of the two fast ones. And -- lo and behold -- I am just an etude short of finishing another book. Anybody with good etude ideas? Serious enquiries only. And writing those etudes has been the main activity during my vacation -- especially as on Sunday it started to get unseasonably cold, and the sun stayed behind the clouds from Sunday afternoon until late Thursday afternoon (yesterday).

INDEED -- it turned out that Beff got back to Maine just in time. Because a forecast of light showers of snow and rain mixed turned into a full-blown snow event here -- Wednesday afternoon here through the early morning witnessed about two inches of snow -- which melted VERY fast from the roads and driveway, but still leaves a few traces in the yard. But in Bangor, the snow started later on Wednesday (Beff had driven at that ungodly hour for a concert that night), kept going, and cancelled school on Thursday morning. Indeed, Bangor got nearly a foot, and lots of stuff was cancelled, and lots of people lost power due to the heavy snow breaking trees and power lines, etc. So we got off a little on the easy side.

So what else happened in between bouts of composing? Well, I did as many walks for exercise as possible, since it's far too cold to ride a bicycle, and that included one of the paths on Summer Hill. For once I tried a fork of a path I hadn't encountered before, and I took that all the way to the other side, bringing me by the school-converted-into-artist-studios, and around. On another walk to the post office, I stopped at Door and Window to feed the dog, but also to hand-deliver the check for the balance of the bathroom conversion, and they got me sitting down and talking, and gave me two maroon baseball caps with their logo (MDW, they say). And stuff. And that's about the sum total of outdoor activity for me, since it's been too cold for most of it.

Meanwhile, I had started thinking about the process of doing the parts for my piano concerto, on top of the many times on weekends Beff has come into the computer room and asked, "now how do I do double-sided again?" It's been so complicated that we simply use the copying machine in the guest room to do double-sided copying -- which is going to be a real bear when it comes time to produce fifty parts for an orchestra. So I drooled and I drooled, and I finally decided to drop the money on the automatic duplexer that I could have gotten if I had gotten the super-deluxe version of our printer. I ordered it directly from HP, and for shipping options, here were my choices: UPS ground, $10. UPS Second Day $17. UPS Next Day, free. Hmm, somebody not paying attention over there ... in any case, it arrived on Tuesday and I installed it -- it tucks in in the back between the two paper trays, as it turns out, and it was extremely easy to install. The next step was to update all the printer drivers on the computers so that they know the duplexer is available (not too hard), but then finding where in the Print dialog box you tell it to do automatic double-sided printing was not so easy. The manual had said it's in the "Finishing" tab at print time, but it turns out that was the case for Windows, not Mac OS X -- finally after poring through about a dozen technical docs on the HP site, I found the answer -- it's under Layout, and hey -- you can even choose between long-side binding and short-side binding. Success. It looks really bizarre when it's doing double-sided printing, because half of each page starts to get ejected, but then it gets sucked back in to be printed on the other side. As if it changed its mind a lot. See the sky blue "Duplexer movie" up and to the left.

So then the issue became working the parts so they could be directly printed double sided -- the piece is in four movements, which means four files, thus four files per part. I experimented with batch printing to see if the jobs could be sent as a stream of pages, but that didn't work -- if, say, the first movement took 3 pages, it printed on both sides for pp. 1 and 2, then printed 3, and then ejected the page. Then the second movement would start on a fresh page, as would the third and fourth. So since not all the parts are even numbers of pages in every movement, I was in a quandary. I did discover the batch print (or batch anything) feature in Finale, which allowed me quickly to create whole lot of PDF files without doing much work. But I was in a tizzy (not a Tin Lizzie, which is something else entirely, but thanks for playing our game) about how to accomplish this, when on a lark I opened Adobe Acrobat -- we have the full version because when I got the new computer I got Adobe Creative Suite 2 -- for Illustrator, an html program, and especially for Photoshop -- and it comes with CS 2. So there on the task bar was "create document from multiple files". BINGO. So I did all the parts using Acrobat, putting the four separate files for each part into single files and then tried doing a double-side bass part. BINGO! again. Though I then noticed my own stupid mistake in extracting the parts, where page 4 was followed by page 6, meaning I had to figure out the page turns again. So soon, my pretties, soon I will print and bind all the parts. Because it is what I do. It put me in a happy good mood.

And this morning Steve Chrzan came to do the yearly piano tuning -- which he hadn't done in two years -- and the usual banter about how crappy the piano is, etc., ruled the day. Indeed, as he was leaving he said, "so make sure and call me if you ever get a piano." In any case -- he fixed a few sticky keys, got it sounding good and in tune, and off he went. He had to enter on crutches due to a foot operation he'd had -- removing a nasty sliver -- but he did just fine. And while he was tuning, I finished the 79th etude, upstairs on the Klavinova. I rule. Happy good.

Now #77 and #79 qualify as two of the hardest etudes of the whole set. Sorry about that, guys. But when I think "echo" etude I think of the lame-ass musicians that play in subways with their delay boxes, and the way they get a chord sounding by arpeggiating, and adding to the structure by playing some more as it fades, etc. MY etude has multiple simultaneous delay boxes (yes, the delay ranges from two eighth notes to four eighth notes with lots of odd numbers of sixteenths in between) and multiple simultaneous echo sonorities, all decaying independently. So some bars have a different dynamic on every note (I rule). Meanwhile, the slow mirror etude came out nice and pretty (I rule), and the fast mirror etude is definitely pipistrello in uscita dal inferno territory. It actually sounds pretty hip, even though I know it's damn hard, and usually the left hand is playing the inversion of the right hand, a sixteenth later (I rule). Zounds.

Speaking of etudes -- I found a review online of Adam Marks's Paris performance of three of them, and you can find them in Reviews 4 (click on Reviews, then on 4) -- finally after a string of pretty good reviews, a fairly wretched one. And I like reading it. And I love the notion that it's not possible to write a piece using only major triads because Satie did that already. And I remember -- it is only Europeans who make pronouncements about art that begin "It is no longer possible to ...." to .. to write a requiem after Stravinsky's Requiem Canticles (yes, a European said that). But I seem to have gotten off the beaten path here.

Beff is on her way back for the weekend as I type this -- the snowstorm necessitated some rescheduling of lessons, so she is leaving mid-afternoon -- and then it is Easter weekend. Tuesday I drive to MacDowell again, this time to see an artist, Bradley Wester, that I know from VCCA 2003. Wednesday school starts again and (gratefully) I note there are only 3 weeks of it left, and on that very day I get to see Bob Moody of the Theater department do that same "bullshit that makes you sweat" that I did in September -- a public lecture honoring his elevation to an endowed chair. Meanwhile, further off into the future is a reschedule April 20 and 21 of a mini-residency at the U of Southern Maine that was cancelled due to a snowstorm, Justin Rust's dissertation defense May 9, and in late August, school starts up again. Agh!

In any case. Still four days left to this vacation and I don't know what I will do yet. Don't want to write another etude, and don't have enough time to start the Barlow Prize piece. So I will be going to the bathroom, playing with the cats, and eating. Good way to spend a vacation when you've already written three new etudes.

It's been a crappy week for taking pictures -- the ones I include below were done specifically for this update, and for no other reason. The first two are from my walk in the woods -- the path, and an ancient stone wall. Next is Cammy just as I started typing this, the printer with the duplexer installed (it is just behind where the cord plugs in), the beginning of Wednesday's snowstorm, and the frozen version of some penne Arabbiata I got at Trader Joe's -- the things that look like pepperoni are actual dollops of the sauce, frozen. Kuhl.

APRIL 15. Breakfast today was rice link sausages with melted cheese, potato pancakes, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch/dinner (eaten at 4) was an all-natural pizza from Whole Foods. Dinner last night was grilled chicken sandwiches and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 25.0 and 54.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Mahler's Mitternacht, from the Ruckert Lieder. LARGE EXPENSES is heating oil, a little over 500 bucks. BIRDS HEARD RECENTLY: Eastern wood peewee, and finally the robins, now back for more than a month, have started singing. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I played both Midget League (ages 9, 10) and Little League (11, 12) baseball, and in Midget League was shortstop for the Pirates. Who knows why, but the coach tabulated our batting averages, and mine was .358. There was one game in which I hit a grounder and clearly beat the throw to first base (there was at least half a second between my foot hitting the bag and the ball hitting the first baseman's glove), but I did not argue. But a little later in the game, the first base umpire heard us little kids making jokes about what a dumbass he was and he left in a huff, on his motorcycle. I do not recall who took his place. I also was embarrassed at times in Little League when my father would be the plate umpire, who would be so flamboyant in his pitch-calling that immediate family couldn't help hoping nobody noticed we were ralted -- I mean, it seemed like he started making the call before the ball was even halfway to the plate. Well, strikes, anyway. The "Steeeeeeeeeeee-rike!" thing, dontcha know. Luckily, he didn't umpire any of my games. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Gristoon. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF the stationary low over northeastern Canada. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Edy's Lime bars, Sun Tea mixed with real lemonade, piccante olives, Real Pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK How deep postholes can be. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 9. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, first page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 12. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: I made a second catnip-sock, and both cats go crazy over both of them. One for each floor! RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 1. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I and Mike White were the first two in seventh grade French to demonstrate that we could count to a hundred in French. For that, we each received a "bon point". WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Every word beginning in "s" now begins in "th" -- but just for one day. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,400. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.66. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the way we were, a stiff jab to the midsection, all the words that rhyme with "traitorous", something with wheels that go sideways.

The week and some change that was, was. That gfornafratz stationery low over northeastern Canada parked its little ol' butt there just as my Passover vacation began, and it's been cold and poopy ever since, causing snow and sleet, here in friggin April, three times now. Last Thursday, even, it started to rain and snow in the morning, changed to all rain, and then soon after I got home, snow and sleet mixed in, and there was enough to accumulate on the ground and still be there the next morning. Today, even -- it is a Sunday -- in the morning there was rain and sleet mixed, and enough to cause a very minor accumulation. It is now gone. In Maine, Beff says there were about 3 or 4 slushy inches in the Thursday storm, dunno about the current one. Which is being called a Nor'easter, despite the fact that it is currently in North Carolina, and which is forecast to give us about 3 or 4 inches of rain. Well, winter didn't arrive until the second half of January, so I guess it's only fair that spring proper is a month late, too. But those poor crocuses.

Since the happy Good Friday update, there has been plenty of going to the bathroom, eating, and sleeping, as well as a resumption of teaching, and a little ebb and flow of the TMJ thing (I felt very little on Wednesday and Thursday but have this weekend) and all that. The weekend after the update was fairly dull, since I decided actually to do vacation stuff -- but it was too cold for a trip to the hammock, so it was mostly indoor going to the bathroom, eating and sleeping.

By Monday, it was marginally fine to go outdoors -- it was like late February weather -- and I began the day -- 8:30 am -- by hiking over Summer Hill and taking the long way to Maynard Door and Window. Why there? Why, it's because they sent us estimates to replace the attic windows and to replace the back porch floor, and I took the occasion to bring the down payment checks with me, as well as some dog bones for their dog Zoey. Who was so looped and excited that I started calling her Gonzoey. I'm clever and spontaneous that way. I also got to cash the checks for our Massachusetts and Maine refunds, adding up to not a whole heck of a lot. Later in the day I hit K-Mart, Staples and Trader Joes, and by the time I got back there were several 20-foot long lengths of the composite material that's going to be used for the porch floor in the garage, sticking out of it by a foot or so. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

And later in the day after another walk for the sake of exercise -- too cold to bike -- I started thinking about the fence in the back yard. People who visited were always surprised that our yard went WAY out beyond the fence. Indeed, the fence enclosed maybe an eighth of our land, and truly we are really the master of all that we survey. And then last October the big ailanthus tree fell through the fence, making it less of a fence, and more of a not-fence, totally wiping out one section, and seriously injuring another one. That blight has been there for a while, and it always reminded me of crooked teeth. Perhaps that is so because it has also been the Year of the Dentist. Beff and I have been talking since the beginning of (calendar) spring about getting someone to take most of it down and just leave a portion between the Adirondack chairs and the stand of pine trees.

So later Monday afternoon, when the sun peeked out for a bit, I looked at the small section by the gate by the driveway and idly wondered how hard it would be to take out a section of fence between the sidewalk and the side porch. With a bit of push on the two posts, I actually loosened it enough to take it clean out without damaging it -- as I was thinking I wanted to keep the option of reinstalling it. I deposited the section of the fence in the back where we toss our used Christmas trees, and returned, idly wondering if the post right next to the porch could be uprooted. After a lot of pushing back and forth and rotating, I started pulling it up, and managed to move it. About two inches. After more pulling, another two inches. And so forth. But eventually I actually got it all out. And again, I brought it to the discard place.

So there was now a blank part of fence there, and the swinging door just looked silly. So with a lot of effort, I also pulled out the post on which the door was hinged. And brought it to the discard place. Then I took out the broken section of fence near the back, took out the section between it and the back hinged door, and took out the post between them. This was a lot of work, and I felt a strain in my right groin. Which went away after an hour of rest. So then I took away the section of fence near the lights by the driveway, and a post, and then the very small section by the garage, and then one section right next to that one, and another post. A good day's work. At this point, I still thought the fence might go back in. Meanwhile, there was enough sun that I left the window seat window open for the cats to go in and out freely, and Sunny immediately went for one of the post holes -- about two and a half feet deep -- trying to see what was down there. When I mentioned to Beff, she brought up that Sunny's cuterebra from a few summers ago must have come from a similar hole. So I had to strategize on how to fill the post hole.

On Tuesday I was appointed to drive to MacDowell to have lunch with Bradley Wester, a really cool artist whom I met at VCCA in 2003,a and I was feeling all outdoorsy. By 8:30 I was back at 'em, finishing the removal of the entire span along the driveway. This was no small task, mind you. For fill, I drove to Ace Hardware for topsoil, where I found that one 45-pound bag filled two and a half post holes. Good thing I had bought four bags. I then removed the back door piece and the pieces all the way to the shed, and by that time it was time to drive to the MacDowell Colony.

Bradley had the Star studio there, and he showed me what he's been working on the past four years, and it seemed marvelous. He talked about a job prospect -- a first teaching job, at age 52 -- and we dined at Harlow's, both getting the "Smoked Turkey Thang". After getting back, I removed yet more fence, including all of the back -- which meant I had to re-tie the tarp, since two of the corners were tied to the fence -- and two sections along the Adirondack chair side. I didn't do anything with the one section right by the house and bulkhead that seemed to be anchored to a metal pole in the ground with a cement plug. Because I had no idea what to do with that. All the holes got plugged after I made another run for topsoil, and I had a five-minute rest on the hammock before it became too cold. I then thought I heard peepers in the distance, so I got out the bike to ride to the local frog pond (near Erikson's Ice Cream), but none were in evidence. Bummage. So there was a little preparing for teaching, and off to bed, young man.

Wednesday and Thursday were signature teaching days, and then I got back.

On Friday morning Rick B came by for his usual lesson, and we had decided we'd tackle some Belgian brew I got for him in Maine after he finished his teaching at Brandeis for the day -- 1:30ish. In that time, I sawed off that one remaining section of fence, and then took the brace pieces off the metal pole that was still there, and then tried in vain to pull the pole out of the ground. Nuthin' doin. A bunch of concrete broke off at ground level, but the post wasn't goin' anywhere. So out came the shovel. I dug and dug, and finally 2 feet down hit some cement that was attached to the post. I dug a bit around that, tugged on the post, and nothing doing. Afte another 15 or so minutes of digging, finally, the post moved a bit. More digging, and finally with all my might I got the post out, and had to use my own weight to get it up to ground level, by falling sideways. No way I could carry that post and the enormous heavy plug anywhere, so I wheelbarrowed it to some scrub ground in the far back. Whoo, finally. And nowhere near enough topsoil at hand to fill that hole. So back to Ace I went. Total number of bags of topsoil utilized plugging postholes: 9.

Then I got a deluxe supreme pizza from Neighborhood Pizzeria, Rick and I demolished the pizza and beer, and he left.

And meanwhile, I have promised to speak in Eric Chafe's mod music history class about my piano quintet "Disparate Measures", so I took quite a while making a nice handout detailing the progression of things in the piece -- see the green "Disp. Measures lecture notes" link on the left. I also made a whole MESS o' copies of the score, and of "Gli Uccelli" in case I have to fill up some time in the class. At the start of the break, I had put together 24 CD cues to illustrate stuff in the piece, and put together 24 more, and burned some CDs of those tracks. I rule. And meantime, I started looking at some pieces I'm going to analyze in Theory 2 that I either haven't talked about in a while, or that I have never talked about -- including the Mahler Mitternacht I mention way at the top of this update.

Also the generals papers came in and I got through maybe 8 or 9 of 14. And the recording of Adam Marks's concert in Paris with Not, Absofunkinlutely, and Rick's Mood arrived, I made an mp3 of NOT for the benefit of Rick Moody, who l-o-o-oves it (so do I, it turns out), and listened to all three tracks a few times. It turns out the microphone for Adam made a big difference -- indeed all three etudes were excellently done, no thanks to the snotty French reviewer (see Reviews 4). See the magenta links up and to the left if you are interested. Remember, now, that "Not" is a talking pianist etude -- a pianist is a pianist, of course, of course.

And ALSO, Amy D sent images from the next iteration of her webpage which looked pretty hip -- especially as she got such good pictures this time. And she knew that WGBH had put the pictures they took of us at the radio station last February into a presentation, accompanied by, of all things, a guitar performance of Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring (it is, after all, public domain music, and my music is not), and it pretty much proves that ... both of us were there. Click on the gray link above left if you don't believe me. Or if you do. No matter what you do, you have to click on that link, since "belief" is binary. Don't tell Chomsky I said that.

Yesterday, I went into Brandeis for Arum Chum's piano recital (Schoenberg, Chopin, Bach, Brahms, all very good). And today -- after some more score production, I went into Brandeis for 3 office hours to help students with the sonatas they are composing and there were NO customers -- ironic considering how long we negotiated in class over whether I would have office hours on Saturday or Sunday. On the way back, in the rain (did I mention we got sleet and rain this morning, enough for a brief light covering, before it changed to all rain, sometimes heavy?) I stopped at Whole Foods and got some good stuff, including raspberries -- hey, when do we start getting cherries again?

More teaching this week -- Ravel in Theory 2 on Monday and Mahler on Wednesday -- as well as Open House for students accepted to Brandeis who are making their selections, and I am involved there. And that's on Thursday. Friday I meet Beff in Gorham, Maine for lunch, we go to a composer concert at U of Southern Maine, then we stay overnight at Dan Sonenberg and Alex Sax's apartment, and I do a public talk and some composition lessons on Saturday -- AFTER which, that same night, I go to a Brandeis New Music concert. And after all of that is the Festival of the Arts, and there's no stoppin' me.

Two and a half weeks left of classes. And of course, right after that is when everybody wants to have committee meetings. Blah.

The pix for this week are pretty fence-centric, as you might have expected, but before all of that -- first, a sapsicle (frozen maple sugar on a tree) from in front of our house just before Beff and I took a walk -- and then line patterns on a frozen puddle that looked better if you were there. Then there is the first PURPLE crocus of spring from last Tuesday, and a stand of daffodils ready to flower. Next is Bradley's studio (Star) at MacDowell on Tuesday -- note snow and woods. The next five shots are our fence at various stages of no longer being fence, and the last two are the two piles of posts and fence sections in the discard area. I rule.

APRIL 28. Breakfast today was rice link sausages with melted cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was Trader Joes Cioppino, no salad. Lunch was a small frozen pizza (heated up). TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 36.7 and 86.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head. LARGE EXPENSES any time I go to whole foods, $120 or more, books and CDs from Amazon $72, traveling 19" inch monitor $229, tabloid size card stock, $13, music $92. BIRDS HEARD RECENTLY: They're all back and red winged blackbirds were very prominent as I biked along the Assabet, but I did not yet hear the veery. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In the early days of the Griffin Music Ensemble, we tended to have meetings at Beff's apartment in Cambridge. Since Ross was consistently a half hour late, we got in the habit of telling him the meeting time was a half hour earlier than it actually was. Our first season -- 1985-86 -- finished out at $10,999, including the champagne reception after our first concert. Eventually Richard Buell was to use the phrase "tricksome and witless" in a review, later in the season. What a nice guy. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Toople. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF Republican scandals RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Sun Tea mixed with real lemonade, piccante olives, Real Pickles, hamburger dills from a giant jar. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK The true cost of garden sheds. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: a feisty little number larger than 5 but smaller than 6 that goes by the name of "gristoon". REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 13. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: I open the window seat window for them often, and after running around for five minutes, they park themselves in the window. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 1. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I have two pairs of excellent, full-price flip flops I haven't worn yet. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Dow 14,000. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,416. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.73, $2.77 and $2.83 (could it be only last November that I read that gas was going below $2.00 soon?). OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a mispronounced word that seemed to have begun with "snickle", a deck of cards missing the ten of hearts, an earplug made out of cement, the two little pieces of paper you throw away after you put on a new bandage.

Thirteen days separate the last update from this one, and I like that. I had been complaining about the cold weather that persisted for the first half of the month, and a stubborn Nor'easter was about to arrive. That it did, and dropped a ton of rain and wind here, and persisted for four days -- in fact, the state of New Hampshire just got declared a disaster area because of it. In one of my constitutionals, I saw that the level of the Assabet by the bridge on the Maynard-Stow line was higher than I'd seen before, or at least that I'd taken a picture of. There was some water in the basement that got taken care of by the sump pump, but otherwise nothing here was catastrophic. Then the warm exploded and Monday set a new high temperature record -- 86 in Boston, 87 here, and 88 officially according to the Weather Channel page. Yesterday's high? 50. Ah, spring.

So with all that funny weather stuff happening, there was a decided transformation of my teaching manner and attire. Especially the attire. I went from the traditional black jeans and sweater to black jeans and Woolrich comfy shirt (which Yehudi always, always, always remarked on because he got one for his brother). And on Tuesday, a day on which I went in (details shortly), it was shorts and the Davy t-shirt and flip flops. Monday was an interesting day because it *was* so suddenly hot, and the campus sprang to summer-type activities. Including a barbecue in front of the Shapiro student center with free hot dogs, etc., and I had one. Indeed, I took several walks around campus (since exercising at home wasn't much of an option -- I had a meeting at 5) and frisbees could be found everywhere.

And on Monday I had class outside. In the shade of the dorm next to the music building, utilizing a boombox and a keyboard, both operated with D batteries. Which made them heavy to carry. As to classroom teaching, in Theory 2 we moved past compositional exercises to what I call "close listening" (because I can be pretentious, too) -- basically analysis of various pieces beyond 1850, with students asked to suggest some pieces. I made it through Mahler's Mitternacht and Urlicht (the "ends in 'cht'" pieces), the slow movement of the Ravel Piano Concerto in G, Debussy's Voiles -- paired with Vanessa Lann's "DD", because of the whole-tone material -- and other pieces I've already forgotten. Up on deck is more Debussy, a Fanny Mendelssohn Hensel song, a Kalmer and Ruby song, a Beatles song, and, by class demand, a Sondheim song from Into the Woods. We sure get inclusive. Also related to class, I held 12 extra office hours for compositional help on Sundays and Tuesdays, and the six hours of Sunday hours produced exactly one customer. Tuesdays brought most of the class in, and that was fine since I had flip-flops on this last Tuesday.

Speaking of which -- it was still nice weather on Tuesday, but I had agreed to talk about my piano quintet in Eric Chafe's Modernism in Music history course, and that I did. I had a CD with 48 examples prepared, and talked and talked and talked. The class had precious few questions, and then when I saw what I had done I left. Turns out my piece is about a Great Blue Heron, and a closed-to-open gesture that's repeated several times in the piece. Well, that and C sharp. My talk was followed by 3 office hours.

On those warmer days I did get a chance to get out on the bicycle -- on Sunday the West Acton ride and on Tuesday afternoon my first Boon Lake ride. First time there in six months, and the same shaggy dog recognized me and approached me for a dog bone. Luckily, I had two, so he got one in each direction. Boon Lake is still pretty, and the path is as bumpy as, or bumpier than, ever. It was nice to do it during the bugless time of the year.

Meanwhile, Beff gets here late this afternoon, which will be her first time here in three weeks. Indeed, she has yet to see my handiwork -- the dismantling of the picket fence. We plan to celebrate by roaming freely. I also got some nice chicken satay skewers, and healthy vegetable stuff, at Whole Foods for this weekend. Alas, she's here for just a little while and goes back tomorrow. With the cats. For reasons that will be splained soonly enough.

So yesterday was another big and rainy day -- thunderstorms were predicted, but didn't happen -- and I celebrated that by driving into Cambridge. Because the scores I had ordered at Cambridge Music Center (fka Yesterday Service) were in -- Music for Strings Percussion and Celesta, the left hand concerto of Ravel, and the Symphony in Three Movements of Stravinsky -- and I had to pick them up. On the way back was that trip to Whole Foods, and dagnabbit, they were out of Real Pickles. I *did* get an interesting raspberry beer concoction, made by Dogfish, for the staff at the MacDowell Colony, though. It may be the only $18 bottle of beer they ever get from me, or anyone else. And of course I got piccante olives, yummy yum yum.

This weekend is the Bernstein Festival of the Arts at Brandeis, with lots of performances going on everywhere. Last night was one of them, and I went -- an electronic music half-marathon, featuring music by Brandeis, Harvard, and Dartmouth composers, with 14 pieces programmed. I made it through the first 11, and had to leave, and I must say that the Brandeis composers kinda looked good. Hillary had a piece, too, which I liked -- I had fun from my vantage point where I could see that she was triggering MAX patches by going up chromatically on a tiny two-octave keyboard. It was like a real-l-l-y slow chromatic scale etude. It was also really easy to know when the piece ended, therefore.

(speaking of which -- I spent some time analyzing the "Fireworks" prelude of Debussy for class -- #12 from Livre 2 -- and decided to use it kind of as a premise for my 80th etude, should I ever get around to writing it)

And tomorrow is Peter Bayne's cop car piece that everyone's been talking about (except Jim Ricci, who is old and cynical enough to say, "somebody did that in the 70s, didn't they?" Yeah, and Satie already wrote a piece using only major triads) and I have to introduce it. Two bass-baritones, singing through the PA of police cars and using the other sound-making accoutrements. My introduction has been written for me, and it's pretty basic. I had it memorized before I even read it. And then tomorrow night, the Dinosaur Annex concert is an extremely ambitious recital by Don Berman, including Eric Chasalow's piano and tape piece, and the two etudes he *commissioned* from me -- yes, I got paid for them, though I wasn't expecting to. In fact, it looks like due to clerical error, I got paid twice. I didn't cash the second check.

As to the coming week, it's the day we've all been waiting for. Wednesday is THE LAST DAY OF CLASSES WOO HOO ICE MAKER WOO HOO and Thursday is a music department meeting, and then I'm mostly done except for some grading. On Friday, I am going to the MacDowell Colony, where I will be until June 5. This is a last minute thing, and I have to come back several times, specifically: May 5 for Eric Chasalow's multimedia opera at Brandeis, May 9 for Justin Rust's diss defense and a teaching award ceremony for Rick Beaudoin, May 14 for a dentist appointment (#14, but it's just a routine cleaning) and May 15 for the department degree meeting. Then I'm home free. Which is good, because I am charged with writing a towering masterpiece of staggering genius, for wind ensemble. With opening suggested by Chip Farnham (you read that here first -- D in the horns). So because Beff has to be in Maine a lot for two more weeks until her academic obligations are finished, she's taking the cats with her for that time, and then back here. Woo hoo for the cats, I am sure. And of course once the grass starts growing in earnest, there will be hiatuses to come back and mow.

Meanwhile, other things related to the weather warming up include taking out the lawnmower and gassing it up -- I actually could mow some, but just the long grass that used to be next to the fence that's now nonexistent. And Mindy Wagner sent me a bag with eight baby asparagus sprouts for me to plant -- when she was here for her colloquium I had casually mentioned that the neighbor has nice asparagus that he doesn't even know about and that the previous owner used to give fresh asparagus to us, and that I might have to sneak in to do that this spring, etc. -- and I followed the instructions on the bag. I dug a six-inch deep trench (I got me a little shovel from Ace Hardware for that), planted them, and covered them with three inches of dirt. Then about a week later I covered them up again with the other three inches.

I also got grass seed, and fertilizer, and more topsoil, since one of tomorrow's task for me 'n' Beff is to plant grass seed where the fallen tree is, and also in the mini-trench that its carcass left behind. To that end, I also got a hoe and a rake -- not a leaf rake, but, as I described it over the phone to Beff, the kind of rake that is used for sight gags in cartoons and comedy movies. She knew immediately of what I spoke. Now I am glad to have spent so much obsessive time last fall uprooting all the vines and stuff in that area. Currently I am spending obsessive time weeding the area of those funny chutes that are all over this area that produce quasi-grapes. And meanwhile, the rhubarb is growing incredibly fast. It passed through the nascent stage and through the scrotal stage to near-picking stage in just a few weeks.

And so since I have to get my act together a little more quickly than I had anticipated -- that is, going away this Friday -- I did stuff that required organizational skills. Including sending programs to CF Peters and BMI, making and binding a full size Disparate Measures score for a fall performance, Xeroxing all the piano concerto sketches and making a nice printout of it to send to the Koussevitzky Foundation, and doing all that stuff at the post office, etc. And I searched through the Staples flyer for a bigger monitor that I can attach to my Power Book for the sake of doing a wind ensemble piece, and I got a 19-incher flat screen that was on special. It arrived, I attached it, and it works, and ... it also has an iPod dock, AND built-in speakers, AND a USB hub integrated. Wow. The penalty is that it comes with no fewer than two power supplies.

Last weekend was a different kind of thing, as my mini-residency from March that had been cancelled by a snowstorm actually happened. On Friday I drove from here to Gorham Maine, where the U of Southern Maine is, and Beff drove from Bangor. I met Dan Sonenberg on the campus, and all three of us went to the brew pub nearby for lunch. Beff and I then walked around a bit, and hooked up with Dan's wife Alex (we know both of them from overlapping VCCA residencies), went to an art opening on campus, and then out for barbecue. I was there ostensibly to go to the concert of U Maine composers, which is done quite interestingly there -- it's an ensemble that's a class that people in the class write for and play in. So stylistically it was all over the map, from heavy metal (a song with a form of ABCDEFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF) to quasi-experimental. That night we stayed at Dan and Alex's excellent apartment (big!), had pancakes, and I did two composition lessons, did a public talk about ME, and did two more composition lessons. Dan's got a good program going, and some good composers. So I left in time to get back for a grad composer concert at Brandeis -- lots of really good music, though not without a few performance issues.

And somehow within all that space, I managed to spend nearly twenty-four minutes of my life monkeying with my piano concerto Finale files and assigning QuickTime MIDI instruments, just to see what it would sound like. The answer: funny. You, dear reader, can laugh along with Davy by clicking on the "funny MIDI" links up there to the left -- though I have found that the flute patch on the Mac comes out as a string patch in Windows. And other funny things like when one string part has a pizzicato, all of them get played pizzicato. Not that there's anything wrong with that, except that in the third movement, a lot of pizzicato is really sposta be bowed. And thrown bows I had no idea what to do about. So I went to the bathroom.

And what is on the docket IMMEDIATELY? Why, it's looking at and grading the sonata expositions and recaps that came in on Wednesday. The best part of my job is when that is ... over. As to when the next update is ... dunno, probably the 14th, since I have all that time later in the day after my dentist appointment.

Today's pictures include a few from the cell phone. First is a nice early morning picture of the back yard with the shadows of two of the big maple trees. Then we have some of the rhubarb passing through the scrotal stage, the trench for the asparagus, two daffodils by the back porch steps, a cute as a button picture of Sunny in Beff's storage area next to the bed, the level of the Assabet by the bridge, higher than I have seen, the cats enjoying the outdoors, and a funny cube gravestone Beff and I encountered in Gorham. As to the backyard -- since these pictures were taken, it rained, and it has gotten suddenly MUCH greener. So there.

MAY 24. Breakfast today was nothing! Except a brief swig of orange juice right out of the container. Dinner last night was rare and marinated beef, sweet potatoes and salad. Lunch today was Trader Joes tempura shrimp. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST FOUR WEEKS: 32.4 and 90.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The MIDI of the Finale of the band piece I am writing (you, too, can listen, kimosabe). LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST MONTH are very few -- two Flip Video camcorders at $123 each from amazon, and that's about it. BIRDS HEARD RECENTLY: First veery of the year heard today; tons and tons of wood thrushes at the MacDowell Colony. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was in eighth grade we got a new phys ed instructor, Mr. Pequignot, who instigated a soccer team. I declined to go out for soccer, but Mr. P thought I was athletic and he turned the screws on me to get me to try out. And I was made the starting left winger. Our first game was played in the back of the Barlow Street School against St. Albans town, and I scored about five seconds into the game with a wild kick -- I was subsequently decked by someone on the other team, but I got up in time to see the ball sailing in the net. So if I could score at that rate -- a goal every five seconds -- imagine my average. It turns out we won that game 1-0. I was also the leading goal scorer, with four in 10 games. When the class did a yearbook, soccer was covered, and all the facts were apparently made up. My copy has the actual goal tallies pencilled in. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Cramper. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF being cooped up in a studio, biking on a bike without a derailleur, my good old TMJ. RECENT GASTRONOMIC various olives and pickle things that I munch on in my studio at MacDowell. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK My groove. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 2.45. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 14. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT:When I visit from MacDowell, they park themselves in the kitchen as if I am supposed to give them cat treats. I usually do. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 14 (lots of Fromm commission letters before I started saying no). FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I can re-enact the entire Jesus Christ Superstar album. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Permanent Republican minority. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,453. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.85, $2.87, $2.90, $2.95. I see $3.02 is the next price I pay when I gas up tomorrow. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a poorly executed Sudoku game, a poem written without any consonants, the first time ever I saw your face, an aluminum softball bat that's just not right.

Now almost a month since the last update. Did you miss me? Hey, I've been out of town, doing the academic thing, and trying really hard to be silly as much as possible. Okay, I admit I don't have to try too hard to be silly. Watch this: GAZOOMBA!

Classes ended on the day they were supposed to end (if they didn't there would be hell toupee), plenty of lessons and classes got taught by me, and a mere two days later I was off to the MacDowell Colony. I know the best route there, getting me there in 70 minutes instead of the 90 that it used to take, and on May 4 I was in my studio and working by about 1 in the afternoon. I had told them to expect me at 11:37 (in the morning was a lesson with Rick Beaudoin, and his name will come up again, before I could leave), but it didn't occur to them that maybe then they could make me a nice MacDowell lunch. So I had delivery pizza with the staff, which is good, 'cause I know a bunch of them -- this being my ninth time there and all that.

Getting an early start was kind of interesting, since I was still on the hook for Brandeis stuff -- indeed, I arrived at MacDowell on Friday, and on Saturday night was at Brandeis, with Beff, for the performance of Eric Chasalow's "Puzzle Master" (Beff said that must have been the name of his band in high school). The piece was alternately entertaining and full of note-spinning, but in the end it was a success. Really big slow videos that involved goopy stuff, and it ended with a shrouded (presumably dead) body rolling down a staircase (idea taken from Duchamp? "Death rolling down a staircase"...). I went back to MacDowell on that Sunday, but then had to come back on Wednesday for Justin Rust's dissertation defense (it succeeded) and a lameass (as it turned out) reception to recognize superior graduate teaching fellows -- I went as Rick Beaudoin's, um, what did I go as? Mentor? Example? Because I wrote the letter nominating him for the award? In any case, I hightailed it outta there after he got his certificate, and got back to MacDowell in time for delivery pizza.

Then the following Tuesday I had to lead the end-of-year meeting wherein I certify that all the majors and minors finished their requirements and the department votes on honors. But I came in late on Monday for a dentist appointment (there is a "root cavity" next to the tooth that was pulled that no one would have known about if the tooth hadn't been pulled, and I get it "fixed" on July 10), and in the free time in the afternoon the Ka-Ching Twins came over for fun and to do work (Beff was orchestrating her opera using an external monitor, woo hoo), followed by dinner at the Horseshoe Pub in Hudson. And it was fun, and cool to see Carolyn again. And again. And again. So the Tuesday meeting happened, and swimmingly it went. Followed by a meeting about graduate students. Which went on. And on. And on. Then I was more or less back at MacDowell for good. Until today. TODAY I chose a while ago because excellent weather was forecast (can you say 86 degrees and not humid, boys and girls?) and coming back to mow the lawn, etc., was part of my bargain to do TWO colony residencies this summer. I cheerfully report that I left MacDowell at 7:30 this morning, got groceries and stuff, got bug netting for colonists who expressed interest in it, mowed half of the lawns, took a bike ride with Beff around Boon Lake, made two double-sided and bound volumes of Davytudes for Bridge Records (yes, the Amy & Davy Show Part 3 takes off a year from now -- or that's when we project the recordings will happen), and whoa! Here I am at the old Windows computer typing stuff about myself as if anybody actually cared. Well, I care. I really do. (I didn't say either of those last two sentences with a straight face)

So my studio at MacDowell is the MacDowell Studio. This is not the Identity Operation, nor is it commutative. It's just that this one, of the 32 in toto, is called MacDowell. Easy to remember. And now there are four studios I've been in there TWICE (Omicron, New Jersey, Watson, MacDowell) leaving only Kirby as the one-time event. I was in this studio in the summer of 2001 when I was writing Locking Horns, Luceole, and Purple (Rick Beaudoin was there in 1999 is well, and that is when he grew his beard). And now I'm in it while writing what I will refer to henceforth as The Barlow Piece. It's the piece commissioned by the Barlow Foundation with a consortium of five bands promising to premiere it. And they are going to have their work cut out for them. Just to get the beezness aspect out of the way -- even with all the trips away from the colony, I have managed so far to crank out a little less than thirteen minutes of band music, as follows: the third movement called "Fanfares" and maybe two-thirds to three-fourths of the finale (fourth movement), tentatively called "Toucan Play". YOU, dear reader, may look at the PDF scores of both of these movements and listen to the MIDI files -- see the links on the left down there: the PDFs are gray and the MIDIs are green. BEGINNING the piece was like passing a gallstone (which I've never done, but I've read all the crime novels about it), especially as I was using Chip Farnham's beginning ("horns on concert D"). I did finish that movement, though, and thankfully started on a scherzo for the Finale -- in which I extracted at least one very long buttstik. You will have to listen to the MIDI to figure out which one. And by the way, I have found out that the MIDI SUCKS on a Windows machine -- I think one of the flutes comes out as a police whistle, etc.

The other composers I've overlapped with at MacD are Mark Kilstofte, Caroline Mallonee, Lior Navok, and Paul Moravec -- none of them first-timers. No composers have given presentations (but lots of others shonuff have), but while he was there, Mark was the MC for a nightly enactment of a Mary Worth comic strip as dinner was coming to an end. Judy and Starlee played Vera and Mary Worth, and when Mark left, Andrew Solomon took over the MC duties. He left today, alas. You may click on the three MW links to the left to see some of the Mary Worths from a week ago or more.

Meanwhile -- in preparation for medal day and the celebration of the MacDowell Centennial (yes -- MacDowell began operation in 1907 and they celebrate their centennial in 2007, as opposed to Yaddo, which began operating in something like 1926 and celebrated their centennial in 2000), the kitchen in the main building has been totally knocked out and is being rebuilt from scratch. While that happens, there is no real breakfast -- they call it "continental" and they bring it in from elsewhere -- there are no lunch baskets, just paper bags, and dinner is served at Hillcrest, which is the former Director's residence. So things are scattered about, and nobody will be going home with cute pictures of their lunch baskets (I have plenty from previous stays -- how could I not?). And we eat off of paper plates, which is weird when we get something that needs to be cut with a knife.

The usual motley assortment is in evidence, from writers and visual artists and interdisciplinary artists, and as usual it is extremely fun to get to know the people and then see or hear their work. I never would have guessed, say, Sabrina was sewing thread onto slides, or that Rodrigo made up a famous poet and wrote in his voice, that Kay was a novelist, and so on. Which is why I like going to the presentations. Even though I rarely say something. Meantime, as the departure date for colonists approaches, lots more wine and beer is suddenly available for all than is usual. Truly. And a monloguist (a new classification for me) named Mike arrived a little while ago, and he does evening-long monologues. A week ago he extemporized one about the MacDowell experience, and he had us rolling in the aisles. Indeed, he is posting videos of himself on YouTube -- which you can find if you search for "Secrets of the MacDowell Colony".

And in my first brief time back home from MacDowell I was idly looking for news on the internet and somehow got a page that raved about a brand new product called "Flip Video" -- a deck of cards-sized camcorder that record full-quality video onto flash memory, and connects to your computer via USB -- a little thing that flips out of the camcorder, hence the name. I got the one-hour version for not much money, and started taking MacDowell movies, including our Mary Worth performances (the ones referenced on the left were all taken with it), and when I came back my second time, I yielded it to Beff. Who is using it to make movies for a video project about bicycle riding. To wit, last week we went to the Assabet trail and she videoed me riding my bike toward her and away from her, in various states of being. Today she recorded bike wheels turning, and I recorded the view of the road from the bicycle on our Boon Lake ride. I liked it so much -- I got another one. So we have matching Flip videos. Uh oh.

Meantime -- Amy D's website is finally online (see yellow link on the left), and we decided to go ahead with making the third etude CD. Which will be recorded in about a year, and Bridge has signed on to it. Lotsa work for Amy, I'matella you. She uses a bunch of etude videos from my webspace in her Gallery -- and I decided to take the YouTube plunge and post a bunch of those videos up there -- as well as a nightly upload of that night's Mary Worth performance. So look at "YouTube etudes" and "YouTube Mary Worths" to the left for the You Tube links therein. Hey, some of them have been RATED. I wish I knew what that meant. Someone invited me to be a friend on YouTube, which I declined, but I realized why I shouldn't have done that. On the page with all my videos, I am informed of the following:

Call me Martler

So I am actually relieved to spend a day or two outside of that studio. Which is certainly intimate, and I'm getting a LOT of work done. But I like my hammock, too --- and besides I gotta mow some more. So I'm cutting this off now and going back outside in order to be outside. Can't get much more commutative than that.

Today's (this month's) pictures include my studio at MacDowell, the scrimmed-off dining area at Colony Hall, my work area with lunch bag (not basket!), a fire in my fireplace, the kitchen rebuilding as seen from a Davy's eye view, me at dinner, Tim and John at dinner, and Mark and David Packer at dinner. The end.

JUNE 5. Breakfast today was rice link sausages, potato pancakes, orange juice and coffee. Dinner last night was manicotti and salad. Lunch today was chunky soup, some Italian sausage and leeks thing. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 49.6 and 92.7. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The MIDI of the Finale of the band piece I am writing (again). LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS are none. BIRDS HEARD RECENTLY: Plenty of veerys and wood thrushes, and a very insistent mockingbird here on Great Road. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In French II (freshman year of highs school) we spent some time in the spring translating a kid's story in French (duh) called Papa Renard (we translated that as Daddy Fox). In one of the quizzes, a bit of text we had yet to translate was given, and I recall the phrase "heureuse come deux singes avec un puce" or something to that effect. I had no idea what singe and puce were, so I guessed "happy as two mice with a piece of cheese". That was marked X "(good guess, though)". The translation -- oh, those French -- happy as two monkeys with a flea. What? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Triggleknacher. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF no refrigerator available, dampness, spraying wasps, Monadnock Springs bottled water. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS anything with hot sauce on it. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK There actually is only one way to skin a cat. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 9. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 14. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Beff and I were boxed in by cats last night. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 1. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: When I did graveyard shift security at Jordan Marsh, I used to toss light bulbs down the eight-story stairwell. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Two-hour teaching week. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,493. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.02 at Cumberland Farms. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the bit of cloth right next to the hole in your sock, the summer cold that just won't go away, the lemon seed clogging the garbage disposal, twelve of those oh what are those called again?.

My time at the MacDowell Colony is done, but my service to the Centennial event is just beginning. But all in good time. I am back in Maynard for one full day, catching up and all that, after four and a half very productive weeks at the MacDowell Colony. Total output: 22 minutes of band music, three whole movements. And I still must write another movement, since I don't have any opening music yet. What I DO have is a melancholy slow second movement with 2-note ostinatos (among many other things), a pretty heavy "fanfares" (third) movement, and a kind of kooky and fun finale ("Toucan" -- Beff nixed the title "Toucan Play" for that movement). Plans, which may change at the last minute, are for an opening movement that is kind of a march. Or a kind of march. This is what I will work on at Yaddo, when I get there. Which is, in relation to the posting of this page, tomorrow.

The usual end-of-residency stuff happened at MacDowell -- the getting to know new arrivals but not too well 'cause what's the point, dealing with the exit forms (note to self: Yaddo doesn't ask you to fill out an exit form), feeling okay to slack off (which I did because i finished my third movement (actually the second movement of the piece, but the third one I finished because, you see, I wrote the third movement first not knowing it wasn't the opening and the fourth movement second, knowing it was going to be a finale, and this slow movement once I knew about the third and fourth movements I knew would come second and just after the movement I have not yet written) and there wasn't time to start another movement and get invested in it), and taking the opportunity to leave the campus for whole days with the spouse of me. And so we did. I mean, I did. So last Friday while Beff was in Vermont, I came in ostensibly to bring in the garbage and recycling bins -- so it wouldn't look like no one was home -- and I ended up mowing almost all of the lawns. I also took a short bike ride for the sake of exercise, and used the air conditioning in the computer room, so there smarty pants. Then I left the compound on Saturday night, spent Sunday with Beff doing things like planting grass seed and taking walks (it got too cold for riding bicycles), drove back Monday morning, spent the day packing up and lounging about (it was raining a LOT), said my farewells Monday night -- after recording the last Mary Worth performance -- and hey, here I am.

In the meantime, Beff had jury duty yesterday, postponed from last August, and alas, she got selected for a jury, which is in trial today. And what a trial it is (double meaning, for those playing along at home). Beff had scheduled stuff in Maine based on being left unselected, so that's all been moved around. That afternoon rehearsal today -- not happening.

And so I pack for Yaddo. Pretty much by leaving everything in the car for a day, doing laundry, printing off more manuscript paper, taking care of the cats, doing more weeding and the like, mailing packages, depositing a rebate check, using up coupons that Beff gave me, etc. I can report that LAST Monday Beff's trumpet colleague Jack was here for the evening, and I came down to make Whole Foods kebab stuff, and that on Sunday morning we went to Whole Foods for more such stuff, and Sunday's dinner was tremendous. I know it to be true.

Meantime, all 14 Mary Worth performances from MacDowell I recorded are up on YouTube (see that link below on the left), and I uploaded some more etude videos. I still have no friends, but the view count is going up (it could hardly go down), and apparently there is one subscriber to my, um, "channel". My Flip Video 60 is now pristine, ready to record whatever crazy goings-on happen at Yaddo.

And toward the end of my stay I was asked to do a presentation of my music by some of the Fellows, and I declined. Statistics: 9 MacDowell residencies, now 8 MacDowell presentations. Paul Moravec was at dinner when this was asked, and he said we would perform right now, and he launched into "Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini". But perhaps, dear reader, this is too much information.

And on that note, I feel like I've said all I need to say for this week. Agh! Well, if there are any new MacDowell pictures, they are in the camera that I don't feel like taking out of the car at this moment. So let me detail what's new that we can look at and listen to.

Waves, Fanfares and Toucan on the left are the 2nd, 3rd and 4th movements of the piece I'm writing: gray links are scores, green links are MIDIs, and the yellow link is an mp3 of the MIDI ('cause on Windows it sounds way different, dude). "Mockingbird" in blue is a movie I took on the Flip Video in our backyard of a mockingbird on Sunday, moving from place to place as if it didn't want to be recorded. All the other links are as they were for the last update.

And the SAME PICTURES as last time remain two of the four non-me Residents pictured are still in residence. Those trees in the outdoor shot eventually got lots of leaves on them, but I don't know if I have a picture of that. If you'd like to see my lameass movie taken in the morning during a thunderstorm, do let me know and I will post it.

JUNE 19 SUPPLEMENT

JUNE 19 I type from Maynard, where I am for the day. This morning's breakfast really was the rice link sausages and orange juice, and lunch was a frozen Di Giorno pizza, no longer frozen. Dinner, dunno yet. Beff has had her mouth surgery and the stitches removed and is in NYC as I type this, with a trip to Houston to follow forthwith. Tonight Seunghee arrives (hence me being in town to pick her up), as she is catsitting while Beff is gone. I also intend to mow some lawn, do some outdoor wi-fi (because I CAN!), and do some hammock time.

I, meanwhile, have done a little less than two weeks at Yaddo, and I FINISHED the band piece, and I FINISHED etudes book 8. Shortly to begin a set of songs for Judy Bettina and Collage, and I am poring through Phillis Levin poetry. I am also swatting a whole BUTTLOAD of flies in my studio at Yaddo, which is the Stone Tower -- same one I had last year. On the day after my BIRTHDAY (which was last Wednesday), the flies started to amass in legion, and much weaponry (especially fly paper) is used against them. But mostly, it's gotten to to point that I work 5 minutes, look at my big big windows for flies, get up, and swat for a minute or two, get back to work, etc. Frankly, it's at times disgusting and I considered leaving at a few points, but I don't think I will. As is usual for Yaddo, there is an excellent bunch of people, and the food is quite excellent this summer --- which seems quite in contrast to the takeout meals we were getting at MacDowell. Though to be fair, I actually like delivery pizza.

So the band piece was finished on the morning of my birthday, and in the afternoon there was a small staff party, since Candace, Residence Director, shares the birthday with me. The next day I had Buffalo wings at the mall to treat myself. And on Saturday, Beff came for a visit (she had had her operation on Tuesday), we walked around Saratoga, and I thought we would go to the nice restaurant where I had Buffalo wings last year. It is no longer in operation, and is soon to be replaced by a new place called Cantina. Beff suggested that I call my band piece "Cantina", and it took until last night for me to give in. Laura Schwendinger at Yaddo remarked, "is there any Mexican in your band piece?" and I guess that salsa-like groove qualifies me to use that title -- if that is the only qualification I need. So Cantina, a one-word title, has four one-word movement titles: March, Waves, Fanfares, and Toucan. Toucan fits in Cantina,doesn't it?

Beff wanted to get me something useful for my birthday, so we did an Airport Extreme hub, Beff rewired it, on my birthday while her mouth was swollen, and voila, we have wi-fi. I can do e-mail as far away as the picnic table in the backyard, which is a little silly in the morning because it's so bright I can't see the screen anyway. In the afternoon it will be killa. And anyway, over the weekend we then went to Beff's sister's house in Cohoes, walked around the nearly-dead mall, saw Knocked Up (liked it), ate at the brewery restaurant, and back I went to Yaddo. So there, so there, so there.

Future --- got to go to Peterborough a few times to meet with Karissa, my mentee in Anna Schuleit's MacDowell Centennial project called Landlines, and will do lunch with friends there -- to be named later. And I'm done with the colony hop on July 8. It will be time to do ... to do ... do ... the parts.

While at Beff's sister's place, we did some e-mail in the back yard, and started fantasizing about getting a gazebo in the back yard, screened in, where work could happen during the summer. Upon lookup, it turns out such things are not prohibitively expensive. So that's a future fantasy, perhaps for next summer. For now, we are waiting to get that new shed -- it arrives July 10.

Upon return, I finished etudes book 8 with #80, an arpeggio etude called FIREWORKS. Shamelessly based on Debussy's piano prelude, which I prepared a lecture for but did not get to give. See links up there.

And on June 30, Alexander Lane does Carson Cooman's organ transcription of my piano piece Sara at Westminster Choir College. I have never heard this version. But it should be good, because I wrote it, and what it is, too.

And that's all I got for now. Time to brush my teeth, and what it is, too.

JULY 9. Breakfast today was rice link sausages, grapefruit, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was a vegetable and cheese panino from Trader Joe's. Dinner was salmon burgers and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST TWO MONTHS 42.6 and 95.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS My own "Winged Contraption". LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO MONTHS include renewal membership to the Grammys, $180 for two years, and some gourmet food stuff from Santa Barbara Olives online, $106 including shipping. BIRDS HEARD RECENTLY: All of them, especially as some of us started paying attention, and a lot, at Yaddo -- so that includes goldfinches, white throated sparrows, and ESPECIALLY the Phoebes that perched above my window at Yaddo and screamed. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My first time at Yaddo, which was May-June 1991, there was a double rainbow one night and a moose that poked its nose into one Sunday morning breakfast -- in the latter case, Donna Masini went after it for whatever reason. I celebrated my 33rd birthday there with Rolling Rock (which has the number 33 on the bottle), and the composers with whom I was resident included Robert Carl, Alvin Singleton, and Tania Leon. My studio was Woodland, which I have not had since then -- this was at a time before Lyme Disease and deer ticks were all the rage. In 2007 at Yaddo, some of the principals were back -- me, Rochelle Feinstein, Marcelle Clement and Gardner McFall among them. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Oogenblick. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF full-body tick searches, avoiding the grass on the driveways, carrying the PowerBook to check e-mail, speakers with negligible bass response, colony hopping. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS Buffalo wing sauce used for dipping any kind of chips, that Mexican olives and capers thing, pouch pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Tick burrowed into leg. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 4. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, compositions, Home. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 14. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny is cute when he balls up at night on the floor when you pet him. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 3. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: My first multiple collection of piano pieces was "Melodies for Snowflake", of which there were 21. I can still play 2 of them. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Yaddo happens at home. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,561. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.97 at Stewart's in Saratoga Springs. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the shingle on the corner that was the first one to rot, the screw that holds together the pieces of a pair of scissors, the pockets in your shorts, a blonde wig that you wear on your armpit for reasons not disclosed.

Summer began yesterday.

Which is to say -- beginning at about 8 am yesterday (at which time I returned from Yaddo, meaning I had to have left by 5:12, which I did) I spent my first unstructured time since May 4 -- the date I arrived at the MacDowell Colony. So let me do a full recap of the colony hop I just did, and then we can move to the interesting part of our epistle.

Readers of this space know that I had the MacDowell studio at MacDowell, and that I wrote three movements of my wind ensemble piece there. I also videotaped the nightly Mary Worth dramatizations and put them on YouTube, and also put up a bunch of my own etude movies there. For proof, see the red links to the left. I also came back and forth several times for mowing, etc., and I also did a little bit of my part in Anna Schuleit's big "Landlines" Centennial project for MacDowell -- which included being in on some auditions for the "performing" part, wherein local schoolchildren are mentored by MacDowell artists for a performance on August 11 at the Centennial celebration at the Colony. I am mentoring 13-year-old Karissa Vincent, who is writing a piano piece about being at, leaving, and returning to MacDowell. To that end, the two of us biked the colony, she was given works by past Fellows to study, and off she went. I'll return to this subject a little later.

Then I went to Yaddo, starting June 6 and returning yesterday. I finished the wind ensemble piece on my birthday, and on Saturday of that week Beff came to the area (her sister Ann lives nearby), we looked for a place to eat, and the place I wanted to go had closed and was about to reopen as "Cantina". Which is what I called my piece. Later I finished my 80th etude, loosely based on Debussy's Fireworks prelude, and called it Fireworks. During that time there was a major infestation of houseflies in the Stone Tower studio where I was working, and I didn't realize until my penultimate day that a) there was storage space under the window seating, b) a squirrel got into it and c) died. Thus probably having something to do with the sudden nonscarcity of flies and my much swatting of them.

Meantime, people left Yaddo and new colonists arrived. The more new colonists that arrived, the more people I already knew from previous residencies. Indeed, my last dinner there I sat at a table wholly made up of people I could have sat with last summer. Now given that I had finished two big pieces there -- the wind ensemble piece and Etudes, Book 8 -- the next project, which is songs for Judy Bettina and Collage on poems of Phillis Levin came out quite slowly in comparison. Indeed, it will be maybe five songs, six at most, and I have narrowed the choices of poetry down only to ten -- not many of which would work as fast music. Plus, I'm writing for Pierrot ensemble, no percussion, and that ensemble has routinely kicked my butt. So things went rather slowly, and given that everyone was someone I already knew, the sort of insularity of the Colony Hop scene became quite evident. I love going to these things, and I love seeing what other people are doing -- but I started thinking that I'd try to wean myself from the colony circuit, especially given how much nice stuff we have at home, how few new people it seems there are to meet on these hops, and how much I like Buffalo wing sauce. We shall see in two years when next I have a sabbatical if I get back on the Colony Train, or go Cold Turkey. But that is too much detail.

There was a pool party one night at Yaddo to celebrate the summer solstice (three days late due to weather), and after it was done there had to be a walk through some damp grass to get back to our rooms. Susan S was scared of ticks, so I gave her a piggyback ride to the driveway of West House -- and woke up the next morning with a tick burrowed into my left leg. Sigh. So I started being even more vigilant about ticks, including the full body search for them every night before bed, and getting the tweezers and alcohol rub things for my studio. I even broke open a little blood blister to see if there was a tick -- and that scar became worse than the tick scar. And imagine the waiting to see if a little bullseye rash would pop up around the tick bite. So those afternoon walks for exercise -- trickled to a trickle.

Eventually, Chris F., a poet, talked me into doing a presentation of my music -- there were very few presentations, and I was one of them -- because last year I had forced him to do a second reading of his own poetry after liking the first one so much. So I up and made him read, too, on the same event. And that was the last presentation while I was there, exactly a week ago today. Mine was themed "you know what I did last summer", and it was the two bird-themed pieces I wrote in the Stone Tower LAST year at Yaddo.

Meantime, I made a few escapes for Buffalo wings at the Wilton Mall, and got some laceless sneakers at Payless because they were on special, etc. And a few drives into town with other colonists for supplies because cars were at a premium. Not much else happened, though. Now about two weeks ago I got to leave Yaddo for the day to go to MacDowell to meet with Karissa at her house in Greenfield, and I stopped at the colony for a little while. The rebuilding of the kitchen was going beyond deadline, as we all knew it would, and breakfast was now being served in Colony Hall on the ping pong table -- which horrified, a little, the two Yaddonians destined soon to be MacDowellites. Including the one for whom I took that tick. After the meeting with Karissa -- her piece is very, very good -- I stayed in Maynard overnight, while Beff was in Maine for a rehearsal of some sort. Then went back to Yaddo to slog by. And by the way, I DID finish two songs there, so something of consequence did happen.

Indeed -- last summer's output was 31 minutes. This summer's is 39 minutes so far. Not too slouchy.

So I managed to extricate myself from Yaddo like a thief in the night, thankfully not encountering any pleas to make it to one last breakfast, and got here at 8 yesterday morning. After a cursory bit of packing, I set up the PowerBook downstairs on the wi-fi, turned file sharing on, and transferred everying I need to the G5 upstairs. After a little bit of hammock time and a little more unpacking, we went and got some supplies at Shaws, and I spent a long time in the afternoon printing the score and parts to the wind ensemble piece -- 42 parts, and I did them all myself at Yaddo, and separating the parts that were originally two on a line was a BEAR. So there was that, too.....

And today was the first of three consecutive days with morning trips -- this morning I had my physical, I weigh 188, my blood pressure varied, but was nice and low the second time (122/78 or something), and my favorite part happened -- where the doctor sticks his hand up your butt and announces "your prostate is fine". So at the end, the doctor stuck his hand up my butt and announced "your prostate is fine". I reported that TMJ persists even in these summer months (apparently I clench when I write), but no solution was offered, at least not this time. I then stopped at Brandeis to make a folder of stuff I want transferred from my current office computer to the new one I'm getting this summer. And here I am. Beff had gone out to K-Mart to get new cushions for the Adirondack chairs, but they had already put away the patio stuff for the season. So she got some online. Then she got us our lunch at Trader Joe's, and what it is, too.

Tomorrow is a dentist appointment to take care of a root cavity on tooth 15 -- it is right next to the wisdom tooth that came out in February, and its extraction made finding this cavity possible. Wednesday is the Corolla appointment, and the air conditioning has to be fixed, and I'd like the car to chirp a little less in humid weather such as we have now.

And what's new at home? 7 of the 8 asparagus plants that Mindy Wagner sent me last April are doing fine, and I have weeded around them. The old metal shed got taken down by the Door and Window people, and the ground around it was leveled with gravel for a new one from Reed's Ferry sheds, which is set to arrive tomorrow. Beff got an Airport Extreme hub, and we can network with wi-fi all around the house, and in the backyard as far as the Adirondack chairs. The floor of the porch was replaced with composite material that won't stain. The attic windows are new. And we both started drooling about getting a screened-in gazebo for the backyard where one of us could set up to do our work, including wi-fi, during the warmer months. We intend to ask the shed people about one when they are here tomorrow. Friday Beff goes to NYC for an ACA board meeting. Two weeks from tomorrow I have breakfast beer with Lt. Col. Michael. And on July 30 we go to Vermont for the month of August, or for most of it. But lemme splain.

Beff and siblings have now co-inherited the summer place in Burlington, Vermont on Lake Champlain, and her sister has been doing some repairs and a-fixins (including getting a storage shed and a barbecue). Beff and I were there for the 3rd and 4th of July, and I found the place really quite cozy, especially when resting on the new chaise lounges in the "porch" area. There are now five beds to sleep a strangely large number of people, and the beach is so close, and there's a very long bike path that goes across a causeway, etc. Plus, Beff set up wi-fi there. So all is well. It is where perhaps I will write some more songs, and definitely enter them into the computer, etc. For I am the Highlander. I made a Flip Video of a walkthrough of the summer place, so you can see that in the light blue link on the left. Also see a little walkthrough of my studio at Yaddo. For it is what I wish.

As of June 24, Mary Worth was still being dramatized after dinner at MacDowell. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

And now back to the regular exercise schedule -- walks downtown and bike rides, when possible. We did the Assabet bike path yesterday. And that's the truth.

I took very few pictures at Yaddo -- indeed, one of the pix below was taken by Grace on Tanya's camera -- Tanya being a performance artist who liked to play piano four hands, and I was the only available partner. The pictures we have below are two views of my back porch at MacDowell, three pictures of and around the Stone Tower studio at Yaddo, Tanya and me playing some Liebeslieder waltzes, Sunny looking very cute on the hammock, and the parts to my wind ensemble piece before I sent them to Peters today (on the left, woodwinds; on the right, brass, percussion, harp and string bass).

JULY 17. Breakfast today was absolutely nothing. Lunch was Buffalo wings and salad at Neighborhood Pizzeria. Dinner last night was pepperoni pizza from Gambino's on State Stret in Bangor. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 56.6 and 88.7. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Jane Child's "Don't Wanna Fall In Love". LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST WEEK include new shed ca. $2700, new Subara Impreza Outback Sport, $18695 plus various options plus tax, bike rack for said car, $390, router and cable for eventual DSL in Bangor, $90, Corolla routine maintenance $501. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: During my year at Stanford when I lived in a cabin in the Redwoods, Beff was visiting one night, and watching TV after I'd fallen asleep -- in this cabin to sleep two, we had to set up in the living room on the floor, and ditto the TV. At one point I was probably dreaming while Beff was still watching TV, and I muttered something. Beff said, "What?" and I turned over and said, louder, "Roll the cabin down the HILL." THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Flurdstock. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF Driving in long tunnels of trees, car dealerships. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS Buffalo wing sauce used for dipping any kind of chips, pouch pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK keyless entry. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 6.1. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 15. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny still is able to open the back screen door in an emergency situation when he is afraid of something. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 0. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I once got a "Penny the Poodle" for Christmas. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Nobody gets in line for handouts every time a car is sold. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,496. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.94 at a Mobil station in Bangor. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the head of a tick after the body has been pulled out of a cat, turgidness, empathy for short people, the crying game.

In one way it was a lazy eight days; in others it was chock full. Chock full, I say, full of chocks. Or is it "chalk full"?

So of my three eventful days that started the reporting period, all of them happened. First on Monday was the annual physical on which I already reported. On Tuesday morning I had a dentist appointment ostensibly to fix a root cavity in tooth number 15 (the one way back on the top left next to the wisdom tooth, now pulled). I got put into the room with the laser for the special "impossible" procedure, which was deemed actually impossible by the dentist: "there's no way to keep the blood away from the area where we have to clean and fill." So instead I was given a special new brush for that tooth only -- basically a plastic handle with a teeny brush extended at a 90-degree angle, which reaches under the gum to take food out of the little gap that opened up when the wisdom tooth was pulled. Fascinating. I also got some special rinsing solution for that as well. Having used it a few times, I've found it to be essential to good dental hygiene; as after a good brush and floss, I can sometimes still pull more morsels out with the little brush. Mmmm.

Tuesday afternoon, Reeds Ferry Sheds was scheduled to deliver a shed we'd ordered -- we got rid of the skanky, rusty old one, and Door&Window leveled the area with gravel. And they showed up on time, and built the 10x8 shed on site, to our specifications, etc. It's got cedar walls and is guaranteed for 25 years. Meanwhile, we had gotten the idea that a gazebo would be a cool place for lounging and doing wi-fi, and we liked the work these guys did, so we up and ordered a 10x10 octagonal gazebo from them, manufactured by the Amish, which arrives September 7. This two living wages tenured professors thing is SO cool, 'cause you can get these things just because it's a good idea.

And on Tuesday night we had our only possible foursome with Lee and Kate (Hyla and Desjardins) in the North End at a lovely restaurant right around the corner from their house. Lee chose excellent wine, I had the swordfish (woo hoo!), and we got there and back by commuter rail -- after getting a little lost on the way in, since all the landmarks (construction of the big dig, and the elevated green line) are no longer there. On the way out of the restaurant we mentioned we had never been able to find Amaro, and they took us right across the street to a place that sold it. Score. They also said they would take our Camry from us when we were getting rid of it, at the quoted price: Free. It is now ready for them to claim it.

So then on Wednesday morning I had to take the Corolla in to the dealer for its routine 75,000 mile maintenance -- it also needed air conditioning service. And it got fixed, after I took their shuttle home, etc. After lunch, Beff and I started feeling antsy about Beff's new car -- and lemme splain. The Camry turns ten this month, and it has 223,000 miles on it. Still runs like a charm and is still very quiet when it idles, and has marvelous pickup -- but with winter coming, etc., it's time for Beff's next commuting car. She's been talking about getting a Subaru for at least a year -- all-wheel drive, etc. -- and when she had been in Maine, she test drove a Subaru Impreza wagon and a Toyota Matrix (I think) -- we decided I should experience all that, and about an hour before my car was due from the dealer, we showed up and test-drove the Matrix -- nice handling, a little loud, not too bad. Then my car was a little delayed, so we drove to the Subaru dealership in Acton to test drive the Impreza Sport Wagon, which we also liked. Hey, it's got more cargo space AND an mp3 player plug-in. Woo. The dealership kept dropping the price of the 2007 model in order to get us to buy right then and there, and the more we made gestures to leave, the more the price dropped. Finally we got a written quote, talked about it -- the Subaru dealership in Bangor is reputed NOT to do deals, because EVERYBODY wants a Subaru there -- and decided to bite the bullet, buy the car in Mass. and register it in Maine. We strategized that we'd get a dealer plate and drive it to Maine to register it, etc.

Meanwhile, I picked the Corolla up, it was nicely fixed. And the next day Beff went by herself to the dealer, chose a model she liked, and I came down to sign the papers. They don't give out dealer plates in Mass., and they wouldn't release the car until we had various paperwork from Maine, so it sat there a little while. Meantime, we added a bike rack on top (it's pretty sexy actually), and took the paperwork we needed. Beff was to start teaching at the U Maine summer high school music camp Sunday anyway, and I had not much in the way.

So on Friday Beff drove to NYC for an ACA Board meeting, and I took the Boon Lake Bike ride, after getting my blood work done at my thingy dingy (health place). I also got stuff at Trader Joes and BJ's, since they are on the way back, and that included lots of D batteries and toilet paper. Beff got back with what she thought was an insect bite on a toe which was colored and swollen.

So Saturday I was appointed to see Harold Meltzer for lunch at MacDowell, and that I did do -- we ate at Harlow's, I got the Smoked Turkey Thang, Harold paid, and it was a-lovely. Also I saw Sebastian Currier twice on the grounds, which was cool, since I'd been seeing him regularly at Yaddo. And Beff drove to Maine because she had early morning meetings on Sunday for the camp. As to Sunday, John Aylward came over for some canoeing, and that we did -- a mile down the Assabet and back, and twice the canoe fell off the car -- a little bit -- once because the rope snapped, and once a fastener just slipped off -- we won't be canoeing again until we get another canoe carrying kit, obviously. The second one was right on the bottom of our driveway, and I was holding onto the canoe, as I do, to keep it from slipping -- this jammed a little on my left thumb and wrist, which now have bruises. Boo hoo. John and I then went to the Blue Coyote for beer and snacks, I took him to the train station, and then I drove to the place in Maine, arriving in the dark, and after the first two hours of raininess. Beff called to say she was going to bed early because of the insect bite and feeling a fever.

So then for Monday morning, we hopped right into Maine bureaucracy. First we had to get the insurance binder from the Allstate agent, then go to town hall to pay the excise tax, and then line up at the Motor Vehicle registry across town to get the plates and pay the sales tax, plus whatever dumb bureaucratic stuff they had for us. Total time for all three: 45 minutes. But Beff was starting to feel more nauseous and dizzy and hot, so she called her HMO -- half a mile from the motor vehicle registry -- and miraculously, they had a time for her in a mere half hour. So I took her there, walked around in the gorgeous newly dry weather for an hour, came back, and she had prescriptions to buy and blood tests to take. The walk to the blood lab was quite long, down a perfectly straight modern hallway, and then we waited in the greatly overcrowded waiting room while nearly no one got called on, and most everyone was really old. I was sure it was going to be an infinite wait, or at least something like the waiting room scene at the end of Beetle Juice, where Beetle Juice gets the number 4,005,999 or something as the "Now Serving" sign clicks "4". So Beff sent me grocery shopping. And lo and behold, when I returned, she was ready.

So Beff didn't get an insect bite, her fever was 103, and they thought she had both a foot infection and a virus. Eeew. So for the rest of Monday instead of returning Maynardwards, I helped her as I could, making sure the foot was elevated, and that she was comfortable at least, and making sure she took her antibiotics and Tylenol exactly on schedule. Meanwhile, doing any internet or e-mail was EXTREMELY slow on her dial-up, and we negotiated that we would get wi-fi from Verizon for the house -- which I ordered, in a typically LONG event that included page upon page of caveats from Verizon. It is to be activated Friday, and so I drove to Staples and got a router and a networking cable -- and that will be the THIRD time Beff has set up wi-fi this summer.

After some time on the couch with the covers on, I took Beff's temperature, and it came out as 105.4. Thinking that was a software error, I tried again -- still 105.4. So we called her doctor, who told me to make sure she drinks four quarts of water a day (I said, "you mean a gallon?" He said yes) and that she take all covers off, even if she gets chills. So I kept plying her with water in various guises (but always the wet version). I also put a hot wrap on her toe and a cold compress on her forehead. And then waited and waited on dial-up. Around midnight, Beff moved to the couch from the bed and finished the night there. And at 5:30 in the morning, exactly the time for the green pill, I took her temperatur, and it was 96.1. Another go showed 97.1 So the fever broke! And I felt no guilt therefore at coming back to our neglected cats and newspapers and mail piled up, starting at 6:45.

And then after driving home, feeding the cats, bringing in and sorting the mail, and unpacking, I put a Peters score of CANTINA in a mailing bag and mailed it to the Barlow Foundation -- so I can get the other half of the commission, already spent. And drove to the post office and mailed it. And then went to the Subaru dealership (remember them?) with the requisite paperwork and Black Bear Maine plates, paid for the bike rack, made sure they took the E-Z Pass off the Camry for the Subaru, and was ready to walk back later to get the car. Turns out they said they'd drive it to me. So I took the Nature Viewing Area bike ride (3 hills), ate at Village Pizzeria and did a bunch of lawn mowing before they brought the car over. And it's keyless entry -- maybe I'll get used to it, but if you just open the door with a key, it beeps and beeps at you. You have to use the little wireless thingy to unlock stuff. And soon it will be with BEFF, and will transport our bikes for us to Vermont. So there, and there, and there. And there.

Tomorrow I see Karissa again for the Anna Schuleit Landlines project, and before that it will be lunch with super-poet and Rome Prize Fellow Sarah Manguso. Whom I know from Yaddo, last year. I have not decided yet whether to drive the Camry or the Subaru there. Choices, choices! Hey, we are (very) temporarily a 3-car family. And one of the few without at least one of them on blocks in the yard. THEN next Tuesday it's the annual morning beerfest with Lt. Col. Colburn up on Lake Carmi. And in between all of those things and before we leave for Vermont, I hope to grind out at least one more Phillis Levin song. And what it is, too.

Today's pictures begin with a cushion for the Adirondack chairs, very cheap, that Beff ordered online (it's a little small), followed by the new Subaru in the driveway. Next is a toy cedar waxwing with sound that I got at Yaddo. Next follow the new shed as it is constructed, followed by the complete version. Then see the Subaru's butt as the shed looks on. And finally, the current state of the little place I planted the asparagus that Mindy Wagner sent me. Very hard to get a good picture, but there are seven very little ones isolated there. Really.

JULY 27. Breakfast today was rice link sausages, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was chunky chicken soup. Lunch was a clam roll at the Quarterdeck Restaurant and the scallops wrapped in bacon appetizer. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 57.9 and 89.8. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the upward-moving ostinato from the Phillis Levin song I am currently writing. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST WEEK include woodchuck removal in Bangor, ca. $300, future woodchuck prevention in Bangor, ca. $900, the usual new car expenses with Registry of Motor Vehicles, etc. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: During a little shopping trip in Burlington, when I was about 10, that for some reason included my great-aunt -- Aunt Dot, my grandmother's sister -- I discovered (probably in Grand Way) the Hot Wheels "splitting image" model for sale, which I had been coveting for some time. Here was when I learned how to "play" Aunt Dot. The little car was $3 and I had probably about a buck, and I spoke directly to my mother within earshot of Aunt Dot, "oh, if I only had a friend who could give me the difference, I could bring this car home and play with it." Right on cue, Aunt Dot said, "I'll be your friend". I got the car. Hee hee hee. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Druit. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF Alberto Gonzales, car dealerships. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS Pickles, olives, lemonade, Edy's lemon and lime bars. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the book value of the old Camry. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 8. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, compositions, lexicon, reviews, home. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 15. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny spends much time on a fencepost trolling for mice and chipmunks. Cammy is very needy in the morning, always seeking out my lap when I have one. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 1. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I got glasses in the second grade, two years after having German measles. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Self-refilling glasses of beer. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,510. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.83 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard, $2.97 at a place in Sheldon, Vermont. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a hotel purchased on "Park Place" on the Monopoly board, a spilled bit of mayonnaise that looks like a cross between the letter "G" and a pumpkin, a slice of tomato at the bottom of my salad, a falling rock that just missed my elbow.

Really.

After I deleted all of last week's text, the last thing left was the paragraph right above. I decided to keep it. Soon you, too, will grow to love it and think of it as your very own.

Meanwhile, down here on planet earth, time has elapsed, and it continues to do so (if I could learn to control that, I'd make millions). Last week Beff's fever was going down and I exited Bangor, in the Camry, and with the paperwork et al for the new Subaru (you'll see yet more pictures from last week's photo shoot below). And on Wednesday I drove to MacDowell in the Camry, saw Sarah Manguso for lunch (we went to Nonie's), hung out briefly in Colony Hall, where, as always, Sebastian Currier walked through (does he ever actually do work at these colonies?), saw John Sieswerda hanging about, and then Sarah make a "Simpsons Avitar" for me -- there's a game on the Simpsons movie webpage for doing that. The Sebastian avitar was dead-on. The others that had been done, not so much. Then Sarah ordered online a volume of poetry by a friend of hers, Jennifer Knox, that she promised would change my life (it arrived, and it hasn't yet, but I suspect it will). The first poem in the book ends with this stanza:

Thank you. Now I'd like to give you all an opportunity

to behold the wonder of my incredible nip

ples.

How could this book not change my life?

So then Sarah came along to Karissa's house, where I was to mentor some more for Anna's MacDowell Centennial project, and she used the lake while Karissa got some serious mentoring. Mid-mentor, I got a call from Beff, whose fever had gone back up to 103, and I committed to coming back to Bangor another day and, oh what the heck, bringing her the Subaru. So Karissa played her tune for Sarah, showed us some of the stuff that kids do to pass the time in boring bus rides, I took Sarah back to MacDowell where of course I saw Sebastian, and home came I. That night dinner was something I don't remember.

So then up to Bangor went I early Thursday morning, and I got used to the Subaru -- which skyrocketed from 35 miles on the odometer to 284 in one swell foop. Light rain gave way to sun during my trip, and I know you don't care about that. Beff's fever actually had gotten much better, so there wasn't a lot for me to do for her. So while I was there, a student arrived for a clarinet lesson -- I, at the same time, was installing the DSL and router, which had arrived. So I connected the modem and router and computer, and the router's setup couldn't find the internet. D'oh, I was supposed to configure the modem first -- so after going through the DSL For Dummies software that Verizon makes you use, we had successful internet connection. Then I moved on to the (linksys) router -- whose setup software continued not to be able to find the internet. So, while the clarinet lesson raged on, I called Linksys customer assistance, got a nice woman in India (who asked me what time it was in Bangor) who baby-stepped me through getting the router to work -- which involved configuring it through IP addresses in Explorer rather than using its own software. She even gave me a password for the network and after 25 minutes or so, wi-fi was achieved. After this, I went to Beff's office to get her clarinet, computer, and a bunch of other stuff she wanted, and she too could use the wi-fi. And use wi-fi we did. Later in the day Chip Farnham came by to talk band stuff -- he's going to DC for the premiere of Cantina (March 2, people, Marine Barracks). And then I was charged with picking up take-out food at the Bangor Japanese restaurant (it took 45 minutes).

Friday Beff was super, and she dismissed me. So I came in the morning to Maynard in the Corolla, and then started my string of progressively more difficult bike rides -- and I now have done the longest and most difficult ones recently, so I am back where I belong. Um, in terms of readiness for more and longer bike rides. As it has gotten summer-like here, I have been taking early morning rides, which is good, since I get to work by about 9.

And oh yes -- Saturday morning some of the tiles above the bathtub up and loosened enough to fall out. I was able to wedge them back, after much effort and mess, but after my morning bike ride I popped by Maynard Door and Window to see if Steve & Janine could spare a few minutes in their Saturday rounds to look at it -- and like magic, at noon there they were. So now the tiles are covered with a garbage bag (so they don't get moister) and they'll take care of that, AND take the falling faux railing structure off the top of the front porch AND sand and paint the bulkhead AND build a little ramp for the shed .... AND AND AND ... replace the big kitchen window on August 7 when we are gone.

So meanwhile, let's see ... you know we promised the old 1998 Camry to Lee and Kate, for free, and they slipped under the radar to do all the stuff they need to own and drive a car in Massachusetts -- including two phone calls with Kate. We figured a 10-year old Camry with 223,000 miles was worth $100 or $200, but Lee had to pay Mass. sales tax on the "book value" -- ludicrously put at $3500. Meanwhile, Kate wanted someone to look it over to make sure it would be safe for the 1000-mile move to Chicago. Yesterday was scheduled as the transfer date -- they came out on the 12:09 commuter rail (arriving at 12:17), we went in two cars (theirs and mine) to Acton Toyota, which also did the state inspection -- during which we went in one car (mine) to the Quarterdeck. Upon returning, we found that the car got a clean bill of health ("great shape", they said) and needed a switch to pass inspection -- of course, another 125 bucks or so. So then Kate took pictures of us in front of the car, and they drove off -- what a weird thing when the first thing you have to do in a new car is negotiate the Concord Rotary on Route 2. But apparently they did -- their names weren't in the obituaries this morning. Or if they were, they were misspelled.

The big event of this week was the yearly beer breakfast with Colonel Michael. Yes, he has dropped the "Lieutenant" from his rank, and he was promoted to full Colonel (especially good for popcorn) in a ceremony that included the upper brass of the Marine Band and the President of the United States of America. In a little office they like to call "Oval". I drove a bit through St. Albans when I first arrived and took some pictures (see below) and hoped to get Chatter Stones at the Science et al store --- and finally Drinkwaters Jewelers is gone! Well, there's another jeweler there, but Drinkwaters is gone, gone the way of Doolins -- a frufru store that sold sewing patterns and Wedgewood and had the vacuum tube thing to transfer little parcels from department to department. And you knew I would say this -- it sucked. So I stopped in Sheldon for gas, and got some freshly picked (as in, that morning) blueberries at the Franklin General Store and brought them to the Colburn camp. And on the docket for this party was Magic Hat beer -- excellent, Vermont-made and everything. Verne -- his dad, my high school band and other music teacher -- had some of his near-beer, and we had the usual make-yer-own sammiches. Now Mike's sister claims that her daughter (as in Mike's niece) "learned about me" in school, and there was an awkward moment wherein I was introduced to her as she was on her way into the Lake -- but I suspect maybe they listened to the Rakoczky March. And Winnie was there as usual (she is, after all, the dedicatee of the 2nd movement of Cantina) and a little less vibraty then usual -- as was another dog named Cinnamon. And both trolled for handouts.

So after I became ready to drive, I did, and stopped at Warner's Snack Bar on my way out for some of its sterling cuisine. It's the only place I ever ask for fried onions. Then, of course, I drove back in the most eventless way possible.

So on Wednesday morning I discovered that Galen had put a little feature on the YouTube etudes on Sequenza21, and yesterday -- the day after Wednesday -- a piece by Amy D showed up in New Music Box about those movies, with an introduction that the two of us were suddenly everywhere, stars of YouTube. Which gave me a little Scooby Doo moment. ??? Obviously it's a slow news week.

And so today Beff gets back from Maine. During her time there, which included fevers up and down from 96 to 105, she took the Subaru in for its official state of Maine inspection -- a very quick and inexpensive affair. Chip had recommended a big garage near where Beff had to go to pick up a lawnmower part. And on that morning, I got a call from her: "did you get the windshield fluid thing to work?" I said I thought I had, and she said the guys doing the inspection said it didn't work and couldn't pass inspection because of it. She gave them permission to try to fix it, and I told her to take it to the dealer where it would be, like you know, free. But they had started already. Meanwhile, I trolled over to the dealer where we bought it, told them about the problem, asked if there would be more like it, communicated with Beff about taking it to the dealer, etc. And so meanwhile back at the garage, they couldn't figure out how to fix it, put it back together, charged her $40 for looking, and Beff took the car to the dealer. Who said, "what do you mean it doesn't work? You press the button next to the icon of a windshield wiper with fluid coming out..." So Beff took the car back to the garage, complained vociferously ("your guys failed my car because they didn't know to PRESS A BUTTON to make the windshield fluid work?? And this is what they do for a living?", and the manager even banged his head on the desk (I would have liked to see that part). Further, as Beff was dressing down one of the two guys who were such screwups, in came another with his face all black, who said, "at least you didn't have to work on a truck that caught fire". Classic Laurel and Hardy, lemme tella you. So Beff got her inspection sticker and forgot to ask for her $40 back. Which she went back and got. So the little "in and out" place that Chip recommended -- ended up costing her 3-1/2 hours. One of these days I'll post the name of that garage so that it can forever live in ignomy.

Also creating unexpected excitement in Bangor was Beff's discovery of large holes next to the garage. Suspecting it was animal-related, Beff called a company that takes care of such things, they set traps and caught a very large woodchuck, and Beff paid them more to fill in the holes and screen the area around the garage to make it woodchuck-proof. Exact amounts paid can be seen above. Meantime, we purchased Shake-Away, a powder to go around the new shed here in Maynard to keep small animals from congregating under it. Active ingredient: fox urine. Harmful, and pretty gross, if swallowed.

I expect Beff around 6ish, a little after Martha Horst gets here -- Martha was just at MacDowell, and tonight she's coming by for dinner. Yes, my second consecutive day for seafood at the Quarterdeck. Lovin' it. Tomorrow Beff and I may try putting the bikes on the Subaru's bike rack and maybe doing the rail trail in Ayer or the Minuteman trail in Concord. And on Sunday is my last mentoring, for which I am slated to arrive quite early. The afternoon will be spent a-packin'. For you see, this Monday the 30th we go to Vermont for a month, takin' the cats with us, and while we are gone, that big kitchen window is set to be replaced, and, I suspect, the other little tasks we had for MDAW.

So live with this News for a month. I WILL be back during the day of August 11 (our 18th wedding anniversary) to mow, pick up mail, and be in the MacDowell thing for which I have been mentoring all this time, but it's doubtful I will post here. Perhaps a supplement, but not much else. Meanwhile, some people have said they might come to visit us while we are there (our coordinates: 44 degrees 30' 45.79" N, 73 degrees 16' 12.43" W -- check it out on Google Earth), which we will believe when we see.

And that third song of the Phillis Levin set progresses. I stole from myself, which is okay -- because now I have more evidence that in etudes I sometimes think up things that end up in other pieces. In this case, it's from the echo etude, as the poem is about overlapping senses of time, and talks about echoes. So there.

This week's pictures include two more views of the Subaru (can you see the bike rack?), two views of Sunny trolling for vermin, two views (south and north) of the Main Street of St. Albans, the church in which I was baptized, and the fountain in the park in the center of town. Bye.

AUGUST 31. Breakfast today was rice link sausages, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was barbecue at Brandeis and later some salad at home. Lunch was some bread and hot sauce. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST FIVE WEEKS 47.5 and 95.9. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Peter Gabriel's "Big" LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST FIVE WEEKS include a canoe with oars and life preservers, delivery included, ca. $675 POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: During my seventh grade year, we had moved into a new elementary school, serving grades 1-8 -- instead of 3 local schools doing grades 1-4, a school doing grades 5-6 and one doing grades 7-8; one parent's night thing was an athletics/gymnastics thing and I got selected to show trampoline jumps, etc. -- there was the big trampoline and the little one, and I was on the little one, and I was supposed to show the simple maneuvers. But my ego got in the way when the PE instructor marveled into the PA about the flips etc. that the guy on the big trampoline was doing. Not to be showed up this way, I also did flips and the more complicated things. Because I couldn't let everyone think that the rudiments was all I could do. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Bimple. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF no real piano available, no yard, buttmunching bicycle seat. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS Pickles in hot sauce, tropical sugar free popsicles, snacky chicken, grilled marinated salmon breasts. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the many different ways of pretty sunsets. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 2. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Home, Performances, Lexicon, added page to Our House. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 1. DENTIST VISITS SINCE SEPTEMBER: 15. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They were very cute in Vermont on the parallel chaise lounges, and they spent much time in the screen windows -- sometimes jumping up 5 feet to sit in them. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 4. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I have two scars on my right leg, and a few burn marks (or "sear" marks, if you like that kind of terminology) on my hands from the barbecue that will become places that don't sunburn. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: When I twitch my nose, that "Bewitched" marimba thing actually happens. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,690. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.86 at at a Mobil station in Burlington, $2.64 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a cake shaped like Betty Boop, a mother for James Brown that you gotta have, one or two of the bytes on the latest Prince CD, a stick of cocoa butter we found in the grass that was really gross and stuff.

Five weeks since the last update, and boy are my arms tired. Not only is freedom no longer within my grasp, or even within my purview (which is when you see a very happy cat), but school has started, I am doing an overload, and I have another job besides. And all of this will be splained in good time (possibly compound time, but I can't promise anything).

The compressed version; Beff and I have been to our August retreat (co-owned by Beff and her siblings) in Burlington, Vermont, on Lake Champlain, each of us had a substantial trip in the middle of it -- Beff to Bangor for a rehearsal, me to Maynard and the MacDowell Colony for Landlines, the Anna Schuleit special to mark the centennial of MacDowell -- and Beff has been to Bangor since our return (two days ago) and is on her way back to Maynard as I type, and I did a full day at what some people who use informality informally like to call The 'Deis. I also spent 58 minutes this morning in the New England Conservatory neighborhood, but ahead of myself am I getting.

So we plan on being at this place in Vermont just about every August. That timing coincides with Beff's yearly summer gig at the Vermont Youth Orchestra camp nearby, which gives me full days of ... well, as it turned out, of nothing. But nothing was what I wanted and needed. Like wasabi. The place is summer only (actually April to October -- the water is turned off in the colder months), and we just do August, has five beds, a bunch of rooms, basic cable and wi-fi, and lots and lots of screens. And therefore lots of air, and lots of light. On most of our days, we took a ride on one of four bicycles stored at the place, and the one I got was called (by me) The Buttmuncher -- Beff's sister Ann's high school bike. Very close to the place is a bike path built on an old railway bed (okay, let's trot out the real terminology: a rail trail) from a railway built in 1900 and closed in 1963. It goes either south to downtown Burlington or north to the Lake Champlain islands, the latter by way of a long causeway perhaps 15 feet wide and 4 miles long. 'Ceptin' there's a "cut" in the causeway where a turnstile bridge used to be, so you can't make it all the way to the islands, except by a teensy weensy ferry -- which travels 100 feet, and only operates on weekends in August. Below you can see the cut, or my name isn't Raffi Turmostabile. Actually, I meant AND my name isn't Raffi Turmostabile.

So for those many weeks the day consisted of going out to get the paper and the food for the day, using the internet, relaxing, eating, occasionally swimming, doing a bike ride when possible, or doing a walk when possible, having dinner, and spending the dark hours on the massively parallel chaise lounges -- and later, many hours watching "Ugly Betty" episodes (later, 30 Rock) streaming on Beff's computer. I wrote only 15 bars of music my whole time there -- as if I were still a graduate student or something -- and the diversions and variations from our routines happened only on our trips and when we had visitors. Now a little bit about all of those.

The Ka-Ching Twins -- Carolyn and Mike -- came up for a three-day festa while Beff was teaching, so there was a bit of biking for all of us (we went to the causeway, and then Carolyn went on alone to the cut) as well as trips both to downtown Burlington (Brew Pub, place to buy socks, etc.) and St. Albans (Warners Snack Bar), and a bit of water recreation (known locally as "swimming"). Carolyn found out what we already knew -- that the water is shallow and you can go out a long way before it even comes up to your belly button (or to someone else's, not seen in this photo) -- since you see New York from the beach, the "I'm going to walk to New York" joke got told a lot. And Carolyn bought goggles for swimming, and we made sure she got the cheapest ones in the state of Vermont (Rite-Aid, seasonal items, nearby).

Gusty Thomas drove many hours (maybe 5) to have dinner with us and see a sunset before she had to get back to guests at her and Bernard's place in Massachusetts the next morning, and we took her to Tilley's Cafe in Burlington --notable because of the free ("free") valet parking, and because of the fish flown in daily from Hawaii. Alas, the owner visited our table twice to chat -- and try to get us to come back again -- but we continued to eat nonetheless. And I had sesame-encrusted salmon.

And later Ken and Hillary made the big drive for a three-day thing, and we biked a lot -- in every direction (well, two of them) on the rail trail, making it to the cut and to the waterfront, and also to Warner's Snack Bar in St.Albans, as well as to Lunig's restaurant in downtown Burlington. Things did not suck. And we went wading and swimming as well, despite the cloudy weather on that date. And Hillary, who had an old boy's bike, kept complaining about her butt -- while Ken instructed me not to look at his. Ken was just back from Rome, so he brought Italian poetry fridge magnets, as well as a CD (actually a CD-RW -- what a dirty trick -- car CD player spit it out) of some recent big pieces. And stuff. So see the light blue links to the right for our big biking day, at the Winooski River bridge.

After all our guests were gone, Beff had the kuh-rayzee idea that "Canoe Importers" in South Burlington might be having end-of-season sales, and we went there to look. Heck, durned if she weren't right. We got a great price on a new Old Town canoe and oars and life preservers. And we took a few very short trips in the cove by the camp, since on most days the lake water tended to be a bit active for canoe rides -- but then on our next-to-last day, things got really calm, and we took a medium-length ride followed by a long ride -- almost all the way to the mouth of the Winooski River, where a bridge has been built for the rail trail. Doing a mile and a quarter on a lake is way different from doing it, say, on the Assabet -- since on the Assabet there's always the next bend that you're shooting for, maybe 5 minutes of rowing. Whereas on the lake, the next landmark in front of you is an hour and a half of rowing away .... And we think that at no point in our big ride did the water get more than five feet deep.

As to our trips out -- well, Beff had a six hour drive to Bangor for a rehearsal and to take care of mowing lawn, bills, etc. And I had my trip on our anniversary to do my part in Landlines at the MacDowell Colony. Which was fun. Especially since there were all kinds of dress rehearsals put into place that I refused to go to and I showed up just about 5 hours before the show (after spending the morning mowing the lawns in Maynard), for the final rehearsal. Karissa did a great job, and our pre-piece patter was cut for length (all of the ten acts began with a ringing phone sound and a mentee running on stage to "answer" one of the giant phone props hanging over the back of the stage). Between the rehearsal and the show I hung out a little in Colony Hall, saw the current Fellows there that I know already -- especially Susan and Sebastian, but also Tarik and Matt and so on. And then I got to hang a very little with Alvin Singleton and Tania Leon at the actual show, and I had a brief conversation with Nicky Dawidoff (a Pulitzer finalist -- in biography, which actually means something), all of whom were there for Landlines. After the whole show, it was dark, and there was a big anniversary cake at the amphitheater, and I didn't get the memo to bring a flashlight. Also, there were a hundred phones set up all over the Colony with former Fellows calling in and people mulling around having the opportunity to talk to these people -- and anyway, I stumbled in the dark to the amphitheater, saw the cake(s), and skedaddled. And then drove the next day back to Vermont.

AND MEANWHILE, while we were gone, the kitchen window got replaced, the bulkhead got painted, a ramp for the shed started to get built, the faux railings on the front porch roof got taken off, the loose tiles in the bathroom got fixed, and we all just had a wonderful time. So things look a little different right now and we are the lucky beneficiaries.

And most of our dinners were grilled, by me, on a barbecue and were either snacky chicken or a marinated salmon from the local Hannaford's. Toward the end of Beff's VYO gig, we invited most of the (adult) staff of the camp over for a big, big party, and had tons of food waiting, and it was a very festive affair indeed; most of the group hung out on the beach to see yet another ... sigh ... gorgeous sunset. And Beff got to relax and hang, mostly, while I kept going outside to the grill with yet another bunch of food. When we ran out, we started cooking Flatbread pizzas that we had gotten for ourselves for future lunches, but hey, they're worth it.

I also uploaded a few more etude movies to YouTube and redesigned my "channel" -- which just means I made it blue. I could tell that the etudes were starting to be considered important when no fewer than three of them got spammed -- on YouTube there are a few Sexy Coed webpages that add comments to the, um, more important movies, enjoining the reader to go there instead of here on YouTube, where there's not much nudity.

Wednesday (two days ago) we both drove back to Maynard -- I left at 6:30 am (nella punta!) with the cats, and Beff was a little later. The cats became reacclimated to Maynard in about a minute (they were already trolling for treats), and the unpacking was no big deal -- nor was lawnmowing, for you see, August has been such a dry month that much of the lawns got brown, and therefore not mow-worthy. Still, I had to mow them in heat and humidity (and a black t-shirt), so there. And Beff had to do a lot of cleaning because of the dust and stuff left behind by the construction and other work on the inside of the house. So we were swamped -- enough so that we went to the Quarterdeck for dinner, and what it is, too. Beff got appetizers, I got a clam roll and shared the appetizers. As if you cared.

Then WORK started again. I had to give a diagnostic test in Theory 1, we opened up a 2nd section that I'll teach this semester as an overload, I had lunch with Big Mike (ka-ching!), there was a faculty meeting meaning I had to blow off the Faculty Senate meeting, and then a music department barbecue right afterwards wher we met the new people, and so forth and so on. When I got back I started doing the busy work to produce lovely scores of my SEX SONGS for the January premiere in Philly -- generating PDFs from the Finale files, concatenating the PDFs, and printing double-sided. Which turned out to be real fun for the 11x17 score. This morning I was somehow obsessed with getting a TON of work done today, and get this -- I got up at 4 am and bound the parts and scores, then put together some packages, did a large-violin-line small-piano-staff score for Dan Stepner for "Pied-a-Terre", did some grading of tests, and next thing I knew it was 8:00 and I went to the post office and filled up the Corolla at Cumberland Farms, and went on to Great Cuts in Acton and got a haircut, and drove into Boston to establish myself, yet again, at New England Conservatory.

Which is my alma mater. But whenever Lee Hyla leaves -- temporarily in 04-05 and forever starting this year -- I seem to get in on some of the private teaching action. Not a ton of money, so it feels like a service for (and practically a donation to) my alma mater.

Before I go further, I remind you that I got a haircut this morning.

So I got an on-street meter parking space near NEC on Gainsborough Street, and the idea was to go and get my ID and possibly the key(s) to where I would be teaching this year. I am taking 3 students, Mondays 1-4. Again, for not much money. So I got the ID by flashing my letter of hire and my old (04-05) ID, and went in to the Faculty Mailbox room -- where I had a mailbox! I thought that was so efficient, having an actual mailbox even before I filed a W-9, etc. And then I saw that there was a huge pile of stuff IN my mailbox -- stuff going back to May, 2005. Whoa. When I was in HR doing the forms, I sorted through the mail and encountered an Interdepartmental type envelope with my name handwritten -- it was my reimbursement for parking from when I taught there before! $249! And the check was dated May 12, 2005. Whoa, so I had to go through payroll and another office to start the process of exchanging that check for one that would actually clear -- and then I finally got out of there. I ran into interim chair Mike Gandolfi on the stairs while there, and we talked over what I'd do, when I'd come in, etc. And of course I have no key yet.

So besides Beff getting back later this evening, much doing here. Tomorrow we put chaise lounges together. They will go into the gazebo that is supposed to arrive a week from today. And then we will be the weirdest people on the block. Actually, we will continue to hold that distinction, only moreso.

And what else? Beff goes back to Bangor on Sunday on this long holiday weekend because her faculty group has an early concert AND it includes a piece by me. And, later on in September I am off to NYC for a perf of LOCKING HORNS -- my first opportunity to stay with Hayes and Susan in their new Bronxville digs. Perhaps I'll hear a little bit of Marilyn playing the concerto, who knows? And I have a dentist appointment, for a cleaning, on Tuesday. Everything else is just a light.

About this week's pics ---- Carolyn with her cheap goggles, me and Mike mugging at the Vermont Brewpub (well, ME mugging), Ken and Beff and Hillary taking a break on the rail trail causeway, Ken looking at the "cut" on the causeway, three various sunsets, the new canoe on the beach, Beff looking (from the canoe) at the rail trail bridge over the Winooski River, the cats watching squirrels and chipmunks, a possible advertising campaign for my new wind ensemble piece (at least it will attract the brass section), and a view towards the Adirondacks from the waterfront in Burlington.

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SEPTEMBER 10. Breakfast today was nothing. Lunch was one cheeseburger from Burger King and a bottled water. Dinner was a large salad including arugula from the Farmer's Market. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS WEEK 46.9 and 94.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The Hall of the Mountain King. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST FIVE WEEKS include a gazebo delivered and assembled $xxxx and an Airport Express, $104 with tax. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: During my summer at Tanglewood, I was in the Koussvitzky mansion guest quarters along with Nami, Ross, and Martler. I had a boombox that became centrally located in the kitchen, and we listened to a Brecker Brothers cassette over and over again -- until we were all able to sing along (sort of) with every Michael Brecker solo on the Detente album. This was a great way to pass the time on the day we drove up to Johnson, Vermont, to catch a concert of the Composers Conference. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Doscroyo. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF TMJ, driving to Brandeis (already). RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS Queen olives. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the comforting coccooning effect of the inside of a gazebo. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: the length of your lips. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Our House, Reviews 4. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny Barf shows up in random places, and at various ages, on a more or less random basis. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 3. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: Being from Vermont, I have a very low social security number. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: People pay to watch me eat. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,709. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.62 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a breadstick shaped like a cuneiform, a pile of thirds, the tweezers I just found that I didn't know I lost, the little bit of lipstick that caked in the corner of your mouth.

So BOTH my jobs have now started up, and I am pleased, or sorry, to report three long days per week ahead of me, at least for the next term. Theory I is so friggin big this year that I volunteered to teach a second section an hour later (overload!), and I have a composition studio of six, as well as a nice senior honors project to advise. And on Monday afternoon -- this was the first one of this sequence -- I drive to NEC and teach three students left high and dry by Lee Hyla's departure for Chicago (and, not inconsequentially, by NEC's failure to make a replacement hire last year). So ...

Beff was, of course, in Maine for most of the week teaching and doing rehearsals for her Cadenzato concert, coming up in less than two weeks, and with a reception she had to go to, she was delayed in her return Maynardwards until Saturday morning. And moi, I started referring to moi-meme in French, wrote some actual music on Labor Day and the day which follows Labor Day, before I started my Brandeis teaching in earnest. In dead earnest. Poor Earnest.

So on Wednesday it was up to me to do the first "listening" soft lecture in theory 1, both sections, which was preceded and followed by composition lessons. After that, I packed up, scheduled my so-called studio, and called it a day. On Thursday (the very next day!) I began with my review in Theory 1 -- which includes my now-famous drinking straw oboe trick -- and got a minor declared, and met with one student, and then failed to meet with the student that followed -- left music at home. So Rick B walked by just as that non-lesson was starting and stopping, and I suggested we meet Davywards to talk about his summer fun and his dissertation piece. So we both drove Maynardwards, parked Maynardwards, and decided to meet at the Quarterdeck for a little beer. Since the Quarterdeck is next to Door & Window, we first popped in, gave bones to the Door and Window Doggie, and then saw the Quarterdeck was closed. So off the the Sit 'n' Bull Pub we went. Bored yet? But he gave a fascinating story of writing for European singers, meeting singers and conductors, etc., and now here he is. Ready to start finishing his dissertation, and opening up a file for professional letters. His letter was one of the ones I wrote this week. After our beer, he went home. And so did I.

The BIG EVENT of the week had been scheduled about eight weeks ago -- Beff having decided that she could sure use an enclosed outdoor work space for the summer months when she is at home, and we like the shed that Reeds Ferry delivered, and she ordered us an Amish-made (or so they claim) gazebo for delivery last Friday. Since Beff couldn't make it (rehearsals, meetings, receptions) it was up to me to direct the gazebo guys on where to put it, etc. So at 7:10 in the morning I got a phone call from them saying "we're in front of your house". I said "no you're not. You're in Sudbury". For you see, many times Dominos pizza delivery has stopped to deliver to our house when we haven't ordered anything -- turns out there's a 47 Great Road just 2 miles down the road, and the GPS unit the gazebo guys have directed them to the one in Sudbury. After we all had a jolly laugh over that, a truck with a huge trailer and the makings of TWO gazebos backed into the driveway, and the guys unloaded it.

I guessed where I thought the gazebo should go -- Beff wanted it close enough to receive the wi-fi, so I planted it square in the middle of where the Adirondack chairs (used to) go. While they were banging and whirring (they had their own power source), I was writing some music. At one point a workman asked if I had C clamps, and I resisted the urge to say I only had C sharp clamps, because that would have been a very nerdly joke that would have elicited no reaction, especially if I also added that we only to make major triads with our A clamps and E clamps. So the gazebo guys had to take that entire truck convoy to a lumberyard for the clamps. And they still made it back and finished in about two and a quarter hours. Where I chose to put the gazebo is not quite level, so they used cement blocks to level it. And I wheeled in the chaise lounges that Beff and I had so painstakingly assembled the previous weekend -- and then brought in the cushions the Beff got for them -- and brought in a little table we hadn't been using, and ... we had gazebo. Gazebo Guys left, off to their next gig with the makings for only one gazebo.

Of course Friday was one of the hottest days of the year. Both Friday and Saturday reached the mid-90s, so being somewhere, even a gazebo, away from air conditioning was not to be cherished. So when it got dark I tested its worthiness, and slept on one of the chaise lounges until about 11, until I felt too sticky and tacky to stay outside. During the day, the cats were first scared and then awed of it, and both of them climbed under -- paying no mind to the fox urine mix I had sprinkled around it to keep skunks and woodchucks away.

And on Saturday, Beff got in around 11:30 and immediately tested the gazebo. It was still hot. Big Mike came in the afternoon to help us inaugurate it, and we got pizza from Domino's for the celebration, and went in and out -- because it was HOT outside. By 5 there was a Severe Thunderstorm Warning (not Watch) listed, and it missed us by probably about 5 miles to the north -- but Beff and I steadfastly lounged in the gazebo to experience rain with it, and ... almost nothing. Though there was plenty of distant lightning, and ONE lightning strike very close where there seemed to be no delay between the flash and the sound. Impressive.

Sunday got much cooler and very cloudy, and we took a nice bike ride before the yearly road race, after which we watched some of the runners going by our house. For the halibut, I took a blanket out and took a brief nap in the gazebo while Beff did some reading for her Stravinsky seminar. Then there were lovely chicken kebabs to make, and Beff left for Maine around 6 pm. I, meanwhile, went to my e-mail program and literally every 15 minutes for about 2-1/2 hours a request for a Guggenheim reference came to my mailbox. Of course I said yes to all of them, and it makes me believe that deadline is pretty soon. So I was busy replying.

Ach, and after some mildly fitful sleep (two weird dreams, including one where I couldn't find a place to take a shower, and everywhere I went things were different and different people were in charge...) I got up, fed cats, went to work before the newspaper arrived, and did my first very full day of the term. To wit: 9-10 Rachel's Senior Honors project 10-11 Theory 1 Section 1 11-12 Theory 1 Section 2 12-12:30 drive into Boston 12:40 get my teaching room key 12:45 get a cheeseburger 1-4 teach three NEC comp students 4-4:51 drive back home. Just out of Brandeis on South Street, I went over what looked like a small gray bag, which turned out to be a big piece of cement probably dislodged from a sidewalk. It made an unexpectedly loud CLUMP sound on the bottom of my car, and luckily nothing seems to have gone awry or askew. Leaving the Prudential Center tunnel I had thought that the big smoke smell might be my car, but it turns out it wasn't. So there.

And this is a short week at Brandeis because Rosh Hashanah closes it down for Thursday and Friday. So my stranded Thursday student from last week becomes my end-of-day student on Wednesday. Keeping me busy without break or meal from 9 to 4. And I must mention that this TMJ thing persists, and it takes a bit of extra concentration to get through lessons with it.

Meanwhile, here I am back at home, and ready for a little more writing tomorrow, I would hope. Also on Thursday, I would hope. For the weekend -- nothing planned, 'ceptin' a week from Friday Beff is driving to NYC for an ACA Board meeting and I'm tagging along. Weekend after that is horn concerto at Juilliard, and I'm staying with Hayes 'n' Susan, and the MacDowell Centennial Picnic in Central Park is happening that weekend, woo hoo! Even Beff is, I believe, coming to the picnic. And -- this just remembered -- next Wednesday night the 19th, John Aylward does a recital at Brandeis with two of my toods. And of course Beff's group does my fl cl piano piece a week from Sunday, the day after Yom Kippur. Which we do NOT have off from Brandeis this year.

More exciting things to report later, but that's it for now. I really have to go to the bathroom. I didn't take many pictures this week EXCEPT ones to replace the outdated photos on the "Our House" page (the gazebo is now there, for instance), so all I've got is a picture of the Assabet dam showing signs of the August drought, and various views of the gazebo at various stages of completion. Bye.

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SEPTEMBER 25. Breakfast today was meatless sausages with nonfat cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was two Boca meatless Italian sausages in hot dog buns and salad. Lunch was the whopper with cheese meal at Burger King on Huntington Avenue near NEC. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 37.8 and 80.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Chaka Khan's "Be-Bop Medley". LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS other than mortgage and car payments are none. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: For a while in maybe fifth or sixth grade, I had a strange bird art project going on. I had all kinds of free colored cardboard that my father brought home from the paper mill, and I started doing bird pictures, thusly: I drew the birds freehand, from our bird books, then marked out areas on the drawing representing solid colors. I then cut the shapes out, traced them onto cardboard of that color, cut the shapes out, and reassembled them with glue into a bird art drawing thing. Who knows where they all are now? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Stindle. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF TMJ, long teaching days. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS celery and lettuce in hot sauce. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the Inwood neighborhood of New York. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: more than you know. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Lexicon. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy's purring becomes louder as he expects breakfast and he nuzzles the catnip sock. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 8. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I have exactly one pair of red socks. Which I wore yesterday. To match my exactly one red t-shirt. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: When I raise my hand, stuff happens. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,754. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.62 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard, $2.82 on Route 2 in Maine, $3.05 on the Merritt Parkway. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a piece of chalk just before you break it in half, the jingle bell that fell off the strap, a big can of whupass, the pile of slag left over from a sculpture.

The academic year continues on apace, and stuff happens. With the double overload I am teaching, personal time has been kept to a minimum. Teaching Music 101 with 35 students means the grading time is about double the in-class time -- moreso during the first weeks when the review stuff generates lots of homework. Last week I spent 6 hours (2x3) teaching Mus 101 and 11 hours grading the homework. Good thing I can do that in the gazebo, where at least there is a view of screens all around me. And the proportion of students needing extra help and students not seeming to get around to doing the homework on time is about the same as usual when I teach first year theory. Aw, geez, ya know, even the process of recording the grades for the homework handed in is time-consuming. Which is why it's a good thing I get in so early on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays.

So on Mondays after I finish my 11-12 class, I drive to the NEC neighborhood and park -- sometimes in the abutting garage, sometimes in the ice hockey rink when that garage is full, and get a little lunch somewheres on Huntington Avenue in the 20 or 25 minutes available to me. Then I have two sophomores and a second year graduate student at NEC, and they are very much different from each other, and pretty different from Brandeis students. The gear shifting I have to do in those three hours is invigorating. And I talk a lot, and my jaw gets a bit stiff, you know, with the TMJ thing. And then I just barely beat rush hour, normally getting home by about 4:50. Yesterday I got back a little earlier, and of course there was a pile of e-mail to deal with and recommendations to write. Hoo boy. Not to mention a pile of grading ahead of me for today before I go out and do anything remotely fun. Or productive.

I also do six private lessons and a senior thesis at Brandeis, and they are fun, too. Well, not fun so much as somewhat invigorating. And the Brandeis schedule with the Jewish holidays has been kooky at best, and only getting kookier. Last week was the first "normal" week of teaching, the likes of which won't happen again until mid-October. THIS week we have Thursday off, as we do next week, and to make up for it, Wednesday is a Thursday schedule. The week after next, Tuesday becomes Thursday, which gives me four straight teaching days, and what it is, too. On top of all this, I have meetings double-booked tomorrow -- music department and Faculty Senate, and I can only do a half hour of the music department meeting. After which I'll see Rick B here, in the gazebo and at the piano, for a dissertation consultation followed by pizza. Yes, the academic life is exactly the cushy life they say it is. Of course, I left out the fact that I didn't lift a finger for Brandeis from May 4 to August 27.

Ooh, ooh, ooh -- and since the first of the month, not a day has passed when I haven't been hit up for a letter of recommendation. Today already is no exception. I wrote the letter already, since it could be done online. So there.

Outside of the job stuff, there was a wild and wacky weekend, and it was this most recent one. On Friday Beff had to go to an ACA Board meeting, being as she's on the ACA Board. I went along for reasons to be disclosed later, and we took the Subaru. We got back in the dark, of course, and utilized the gazebo in order to contextualize exactly two beers each. On Saturday, after I installed our new mailbox next to the front door and took down the old one, we had lunch (tomato sandwiches) and then both drove, in separate cars, to Bangor. We arrived within a minute of each other despite my big head start (or my big head), owing to my stopping at Shaw's in Bangor for breakfast food materials. I got to experience the cool wi-fi there on the network we called "Beffle", and then we went to Cristor's in downtown Bangor for dinner, because, you see, it was Beff's birfday. Liz and Denny joined us, and we had a good meal and beer, except for me, who happened to choose an entree that cook undercooked (ribs) and a replacement entree that cook also undercooked (salmon), but in their favor, the vegetables were good, if cold.

And then Sunday I spent the morning and part of the afternoon grading theory homework (wouldn't you?) while Beff went to the U of Maine to do a rehearsal for her faculty ensemble concert (they are called Cadenzato, because all the good names seem to have been taken). At the last minute she reminded me that the concert was at 2 and not at 3, which was a good idea. I was there because the group was doing the American premiere of my RULE OF THREE for flute, clarinet and piano that had been commissioned in 2004 (at the beginning of my soon no longer to be legendary Chairmanship) by Kettle's Yard at Oxford U in England, and it was my hope that they would take the tempi I wrote, not just the convenient ones. It turned out to be a rather good performance, and so far I have no opinion of the piece, which left my memory so long ago -- but I will get to know it from the Edirol recording that Beff made (how come the U of Maine doesn't record their official concerts on their own?) and form one. The last movement, which "swings" Raymond Scott-style occasionally swung, occasionally didn't. Being that it was a strange hybrid of swingy cartoon music and dissonant mod music, what can you do? What can you do? What can you do? But I am repeating myself.

After the concert, of course I had to do the four hour drive back, and it was just my luck to pass the Bangor Mall area after there had been a big accident just before a construction area where a lane was blocked off anyway -- but the accident blocked off a different lane ... Nonetheless, I made it back in the late dusk, fed the cats (who were nonplussed but not at all minussed), and went straight to bed. For you see, I noticed during the drive to Maine that I had come down with a cold and was doing a bit of sneezing in my car on the way up. I was reliant on Alka Seltzer Plus and lozenges for a while, and still am, and that moment about 45 minutes after you take the Alka Seltzer Plus where you suddenly feel spacy and like a renter in your own head -- well, I could do with less of that. Funny, during my teaching day yesterday, I felt pretty good after about halfway through the first theory class I taught, and no TMJ problems -- but the TMJ was back for my NEC teaching, and I hate it when that happens.

Much earlier in this reporting period was the Rosh Hashanah week wherein we had yet another Thursday off, and there was bike riding to be done, and a network to set up so that the wi-fi could reach to the gazebo. Plus, I used my bike riding to go to West Concord to get the various weird pickles that I like and carry them back in a backpack, so all of that was going on. And the Airport Express we got had been delivered to Brandeis, so I went in to get it, and the department was a humming beehive of activity -- on a day of no classes! Coming back that Friday with the Airport Express, I also stopped at BJs for cat litter, tomatoes, pickles, other big stuff, and started reading the instructions to set up the AirPort Express in the "extend an existing Airport network" mode. Which was ... as is usual for setting up or configuring home networks ... NO FUN. The printed manual referred to some nonexistent things in the software, and I tried to configure and reconfigure from various computers, and at one point seriously hobbled the network and changed some sort of password so that all the hardware had to be cold-reconfigured and we had to start from scratch. After finally getting a computer that would recognize the Airport Express so I could configure it, the "configure" buttons were grayed out. And I hate it when that happens. So in the true American entrepreneurial spirit, I just kept running configure programs until one of them let me do what I wanted to do, and .. voila, I got the "configure" button, but was stopped by not knowing the hardware password to the Airport Extreme. Sigh. So I had to change that on ANOTHER computer, go try software until it worked, and .... finally it did.

So now we have the Airport Express in the downstairs bath. When it is plugged into the wall socket, it "extends" the network, but not far enough so that our laptops in the gazebo can find it. Turns out if we put an extension cord into the socket and place the Airport Express on the windowsill, then there is plenty of wi-fi signal in the gazebo. So we are ... set. At least for when the weather is nice enough to be using the gazebo anyway. We just have to remember to take the hardware out of the windowsill when the weather gets wet, etc.

Speaking of said gazebo, we slept in it two nights -- once until 2 and once until 3. It gets strangely quiet out there at night, especially if you are accustomed to the sound of traffic on Great Road, and I noticed the distant St. Bridgets church bells chiming on every hour, which I don't normally hear inside. Nice. But the second night we slept in the gazebo, the buttons on my cushion started digging into me, so I went in, Beff followed.

Now there's hot weather forecast for today and tomorrow, and I used that last night to sleep in the gazebo again, but I got tired (so to speak) after 45 minutes, and came back inside. So there, smarty pants.

And now .. on to my shower, and theory homework grading. After which it'll be nice and warm and time for a bike ride. This week -- no school Thursday. Thursday afternoon I drive to Bronxville to stay with Hayes and Susan, as my horn concerto is done at Juilliard Saturday night. Friday is a dress rehearsal, Saturday is a MacDowell Fellows picnic in Central Park, and I also will meet with Marilyn to hear her part in my piano concerto that afternoon. Beff is coming just for the day on Saturday, so she won't see Hayes and Susan's new place, nor hear my piece. Which is fine -- as she has to drive to Maine, again, on Sunday.

And that's what's up now. Not many pictures takent the last two weeks, so enjoy just the gazebo shots included below. Except for the one of Cammy kind of not acknowledging the gazebo, from afar.

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OCTOBER 7. Breakfast today was pancakes with syrup, and coffee. Lunch today was snacky chicken ("Rosemary" chicken) with steamed asparagus. Dinner last night was apparently the appetizer platter at the Sit 'n' Bull, and beer. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 41.2 and 90.7. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Oops I Did It Again. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Schoenhut Toy Piano, $289 delivered; new timberland laceless shoes, $59. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My parents shelled out big money -- $425 -- for my Conn 88H trombone in 1972 or 73, I forget which. It has the F attachment, and supercedes the student one I had owned until my freshman year of high school. It was stored in the band room at high school, of course, where there used to be a study hall one period a day. One day one of the kids in study hall thought it would be cool to take it out of the case and kick it across the room. The dent remains to this day, there was no motion towards paying us for damage caused, but it did provide proof that the bandroom wasn't a good place to have study halls. Thanks, guys. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Pruxent. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF the unpredictability of TMJ, any sentence containing the phrase "George Bush". RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS celery and carrot sticks in hot sauce, sliced pears, lemonade and limeade. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Bronxville. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: the amount right here in this envelope. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Lexicon, Bio, Reviews 4. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy spending time under the gazebo and then escaping from one of the narrowest places when he is called. And a long time spent playing with a ping pong ball. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 9. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I prefer laceless shoes to laced ones. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: The color yellow makes a brief comeback. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,754. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.65 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE esprit d'escargot, a word that has the same meaning in at least eight languages, a shoelace found in a storm drain, the last cigarette in the pack.

A mere 12 days since the last update, and boy are my arms tired. The academic year has continued to do what academic years do (such as seem to go on forever as well as provide a steady paycheck), and the two sections of Theory 1 have moved past the introduction/re-teaching of tonal materials into (drum roll) species counterpoint. This means I have resurrected all the old correcting marks I haven't used for at least two years (such as OOR (out of range), tt (tritone), no news (starting on a unison and moving right to an octave, or vice versa), as well as various arrows and parallelism markings. Think 34 students times 8 1st species exercises per class, and we are talking lots of red ink. Teaching at NEC continues Monday afternoons, and composition teaching features, for the first time in my life, some referring to music of John Adams for models.

Outside of all that, there has been the one long trip to New York spanning Sukkot evening until the following Sunday morning, encompassing much, much activity. So lemme splain. It used to be that on every other trip to NYC I would sponge off of Hayes and Susan, who had a small apartment in Chelsea, on West 21st Street. Not to say it was REALLY small, but it used to be Susan's apartment by herself, and even the mice are hunchbacked, and when you put the key in the door, you have a serious chance of breaking the window. Rim shot. Rim shot. So last spring (May, to be more precise), they purchased a co-op in Bronxville, about a half-hour by train north of Grand Central. This was my first time seeing (and staying in) the place, so it was an adventure, and hey -- there was free parking on the street right in front of their building. As to the co-op, it is roughly 3 to 4 times the size of the Chelsea place, and Hayes has a regular parking space in a lot. Or a lot of parking in a space.

The co-op is a mere 12-minute walk to downtown Bronxville, which reminds me in tone and tenor of one of the villages of Concord (Massachusetts), where there is a train station, on the Harlem River line. Round trips into the City are $11 from there, and, as I mentioned earlier, the trip is about a half hour. So there is great flexibility when you have stuff to do in the city and I did, Oscar, I did. So on Sukkot eve, I took Hayes's driving directions, which were precise and perfect (composers tend to give precise and perfect directions), involving the Sprain Parkway and then the Bronx River Parkway off of the Cross County Parkway, and whoops, before I knew it, there I was. I got there before either Hayes or Susan got home from work, and just barely before dark, so I walked around to see the vastness of Bronxville -- a bedroom community if ever there was one -- not to mention the bridges over Central Avenue, the Sprain Parkway, the Bronx River Parkway, and all sorts of other things going north-south (as everyone is either escaping New York, or rushing into it).

I had come to New York because Joel Sachs was conducting my horn concerto LOCKING HORNS at Juilliard Saturday night, and the next to last rehearsal was slated for Friday night from 9 to 10:30. All kind of other appointments were scheduled around that, and felicitously enough, the MacDowell Colony 100th Anniversary reunion picnic in Central Park was happening Saturday afternoon. Woo hoo, and wa ha. Also, wee hee, and way hay, but slightly less so. Hayes is on the MacDowell Fellows Committee Something, so he was going to be working the picnic, so I knew there would be a ride into NYC available, should I want one. Plus, Beff decided to pop into town for the picnic, but not the horn concerto. So.

So Sukkot Evening, I ran into Susan coming home from the train as I was going toward it. We entered the co-op, I marveled at its size and newly outfitted outfitness, and we served ourselves more beer than was feasible. When Hayes got home from his faculty senate meeting at the Manhattan School, Susan put together a little pizza from readily available ingredients -- after calling Hayes on his cell to pick up mozzarella on his way home (she expressed his tone as "grumbling", and then giggled). The next day Susan got up early for work (5:10 am, as I recall), and Hayes and I walked to the train station for HIS train at around 9:30, so I would know where the station was. Then I walked back and experience the great joy of grading theory homework. I then took an 11:30 (or so) train to meet Jay Eckardt in the Columbia neighorhood for lunch. And we had a Thai lunch with plenty of Singha to go around, I went back to Bronxville, graded more homework, came back, and met Hayes near Lincoln Center for dinner. At which time a sudden unexpected half-hour cloudburst happened. So we walked up Columbus Avenue until we found the Something Grill, where we ate, and while we were standing under an awning I thought I saw someone who looked just like Dalit Warshaw walk by. I thought of calling out to her, but what if I was wrong? So we ate and paid way too much (it was my treat), and then Hayes went his merry way, after dropping me off at Juilliard for my rehearsal.

Juilliard is under construction and reconstruction, so it was pretty hard to find out where to go in -- in fact, following the arrow that pointed toward "Juilliard" brought me to a dead end. I kind of ended up using a back entry for students only, but persuaded the guards to let me in, especially when the bass player in my piece said to me, "I'm playing your piece". And so I went to rehearsal room 309, sat down with a bunch of strange people, and watched instrumentalists warming up. Joel Sachs found me (we hadn't encountered each other since Dartington, summer 1994), situated me near the front, kept telling me the balances would not be like those in the hall, and ran some things. Meanwhile, there were about 15 students to the side seated in folding chairs, who were introduced to me as "the entire first year graduate drama class", who apparently were there because someone in drama decided drama students could learn about cooperation and working together by watching a music rehearsal. Woo hoo, paper pushers to the rescue! After about 65 minutes of rehearsing and me making comments (mostly positive ones -- I know how to butter up conservatory students), questions were taken from the drama class, which fit into two categories: do you carry this stuff around in your head? and who listens to this stuff? After the rehearsal ended, back to Grand Central and to Bronxville. One piece of information, by the way, had been imparted to me for the first time EVER at this rehearsal -- that my dress rehearsal, in the hall, was the next morning at 10:30. Wow.

So on Saturday it was into the City with Hayes, in his Honda, who left me off close to Lincoln Center. I went to my rehearsal, and made my comments -- Tianxia Wu, the solo hornist, was sounding fabulous, and the balances came together nicely, so I whistled my way out of the hall. Then subwayed up to the 103rd and Broadway area, got subs at Subway for me 'n' Beff 'n' Hayes, found where the MacDowell picnic was (the "great lawn" or something like that, on the "great hill" near 103rd and Central Park West), sat on a park bench for a while while the people I recognized from Peterborough were dealing with the "swag", and greeted Beff when she arrived. She'd parked on 103rd, slightly legally, and was okay. We situated ourselves on a MacDowell swag blanket, and ate our subs, along with Hayes, who was manning the cupcake number. After a while we spread out a bit and found some other people we knew -- and most of the people we saw we knew either from Yaddo or the VCCA (exceptions: Anna Weesner and Pat Oleszko), including a big pack of Yaddo '07 people congregating around Sebastian Currier. After the various awkward "I know you, but from when....?" moments, there was a bit of filming with the flip video, posing for the big picture, and then escaping with our swag, which now included a red frisbee.

From there we walked around Central Park West, Columbus Ave, and the low West 100s, until it was about time for me to get on a B train to meet Marilyn Nonken at NYU, where we were to meet to go over her part in my piano concerto. Beff drove off, I found a station on 96th and CPW, was informed by the conductor that THE B DOES NOT RUN ON WEEKENDS EVERYBODY GET ON THIS TRAIN AND LISTEN TO THE FOLLOWING FIFTEEN POSSIBILITIES FOR HOW TO GET WHERE YOU WANT TO GO, and I got off just a few blocks from where I'd intended to get off. Meanwhile, my feet were kind of hurting from all the walking, and I walked with a stance that was designed to stave off blisters, but that probably pegged me as a bag person.

And there, in Marilyn's office, was my toy piano, Marilyn's piano, a desk, a harpsichord, and lots of other stuff. We spent about an hour, maybe, going through the really, really difficult stuff she has to play (I can't believe she learned it in a week), but she apologized for being rusty because she'd been doing jury duty for the previous two weeks. Yeah, she was rusty, and we didn't agree on how she was playing the scherzo movement, but everything else sounded fantastic. So much so that I took out the Flip and we filmed some of the cooler parts -- the toy piano stuff before the cadenza, the cadenza itself, the end of the first movement, and the first fast scales stuff from the finale. See "Marilyn's concerto excerpts" for the YouTube placement of those videos. Also see the "Scherzo stuff" link over there for our foreshortened filming of that music.

So after all that exciting stuff, both of us went to the Bowery Diner, or something like that, around the corner, for dinner, wine and beer (guess which I had?), and then I cabbed it to Lincoln Center (33% tip), went into the hall, and enjoyed myself. It was a vigorous mix of music, I got to sit with Hayes, it was well performed, and I even encountered Julie-Miguel in the audience for the first time in ten years (she had been an ethnomusicologist at Columbia when I was on the faculty there, and she even visited us when we lived in Maryland). Dalit was there, too, but I did not see her. After the concert, Hayes drove us home, and boy did we enjoy ourselves.

The next morning I up and drove back to Maynard as soon as I woke up, arriving home by 9:30, ready to make breakfast. The rest of the day was spent finishing my grading and watching and converting and uploading the videos I had made in New York.

Meanwhile, THIS last week was a week with a missing Thursday due to Shmini Atzeret, so after the usual bunch of teaching I got to get to work on a piano variation. I will splain, but first I will mention that Geoffy was in the guest room for a fair part of the week, so it was fun fun fun all around. So Kai Schumacher, a pianist in Amsterdam, is asking composers to write variations on a theme of his own, I said yes, and I started working on my variation on Tuesday. I finished it late Friday (N.B. all of Thursday morning until lunch time was spent grading counterpoint homework, dontcha know), and it was long and complex enough for me to decide it was an etude -- Geoffy played through it and convinced me to call it one, so now I have an ETUDE 81 (see yellow links on the left) that is also a variation on Kai's theme. The variation, such as it is, is far longer than the theme.

And then of course it got freakishly warm yet again, and slept TWICE in the gazebo, neither time later than midnight. Once with Beff. So there.

Yesterday was Maynard Fest followed by Octoberfest in Maynard, and John Aylward scheduled a brief visit, so we did that. After enjoying the gazebo in the freakishly warm weather, we walked downtown, saw Maynardfest starting and Octoberfest not yet beginning, popped into Door & Window where people were having beer in the conference room (yecch), and decided to settle in at the Sit n Bull Pub nearby, where Pete Best (yes, once of the Beatles) was to be playing that night. We got a highly flustered new waitress, ordered beer and appetizers, left a good tip, and walked back home. John left a couple of DVDs of his group's concerts in Virginia and New York and asked for me to extract the video from some of them -- and that included his performances of Sliding Scales and Chorale Fantasy. Those two are up on YouTube already. See the links up there. (Meanwhile, also see the movie of Cammy playing with the mechanical bird that Gardner McFall gave me at Yaddo -- she also got me a pony) The others have now been extracted and are waiting to be given to him. What I say.

As I type this (Sunday afternoon) I not only hear the peals of childish laughter coming from the neighbors, I am alone in the house with one toilet seat and two toilets. Beff and her sister -- who is visiting for a day on her way to Providence -- have gone to Lowes, among other places, to get a new toilet seat for the upstairs bathroom. And meanwhile, the plan is for swordfish puttanesca for dinner, because it is what I have decided the plan for dinner is.

This coming week is a weird one at Brandeis, as we pay for the Thursdays we had off -- four straight days of theory etc. and the Open House, which puts me in lots of places while wearing a tie. I ordered another toy piano because of various things that might or might not happen with bringing my toy piano from Marilyn's office up for the concerto, and besides, Marilyn wants to buy that toy piano now. Perhaps she has big plans for more concerto performances. And then, and then ... everything else is just a light.

There was no camera-lugging this last twelve days, so the pictures below are screenshots from the videos I took at the MacDowell Reunion picnic. People in evidence include Hayes (wearing a kerchief and looking away), Pat Oleszko and Anna Weesner, Dalit Warshaw and Damon, Blake Tewksbury, and the crowd being instructed by Cheryl Young (very distant and strangely isolated) about the group photo.

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OCTOBER 19. Breakfast today was rice link sausages with 2% milk cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was a Trader Joe's pizza. Dinner last night was Boca sausage sandwiches. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 35.1 and 74.3. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Zipper Tango. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Schoenhut Toy Piano, $289 delivered (retake); replacement handle for washing machine plus labor, $215; Stravinsky scores, $33. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was a grad student at Princeton, we lived at a dumpy place in half a house on Berrien Court and used to throw departmental parties -- in particular, I remember one where all the faculty, including famous ones, showed up. I gave a good, good beer to Milton Babbitt, and as he was finishing it handed him another one -- which is how I have a picture of Milton Babbitt holding two beers, double-fisted drinking, as it were. When I emerged into the living room with a Watney's Stingo -- considered a really good beer -- Milton said, "David, you f**king Polack, put that in a glass." Understanding, of course, that he was using a term of endearment (since he pronounced the "w" in my last name like a "v"). THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Distaled. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF grading species counterpoint homework, grading species counterpoint homework, grading species counterpoint homework, anything involving Republicans. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS potato chips and pickles dipped in hot sauce, spring water with powdered twist of lime or lemon. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK other composers using the same spacing of an 026 trichord as me. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 7. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Compositions, Bio. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: We keep cat treats in a little portable bunch of steps (which we use to get into the new storage space in the mud room), and Cammy now signals his want of said treats by reaching into the handle for those steps. That, and they are currently mousers for another week. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 15. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: I like listening to Puccini. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Clapping with one hand becomes a marketable vocation. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,772. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.67 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the sticky stuff on a Post-It, humor targeted at paralegals, a sock that's too big for your foot, the word that you just can't recall.

I know what you're thinkin'. Okay, you called my bluff. I don't know what you're thinkin'. But I can guess. You're thinkin' I've been doing just so much these last twelve days since the last update that this thing will be crammed with new information. Well, wrong you are, pieface. Last week was the long-dreaded FOUR STRAIGHT TEACHING DAY week, with eight theory classes to teach and the requisite huge pile of homework coming in as a result of it. Indeed, at one point I almost entirely burned out on the grading thing -- between Monday of this week and Wednesday of this week, I had almost six hours worth of grading to do -- which is fine if you are, say, reading essays, but not when you are correcting the likes of 150 2nd species counterpoints and 80 3rd species counterpoints. But I am getting a bit ahead of myself -- which in four dimensions is possible, but not so in three.

So lemme splain. Last week, during my week of too much teaching (compared to this week, the week of too much grading), Beff, in her parallel Maine-y reality, had to dispose of dead or nearly dead mice on three consecutive days. They had apparently crawled out from under the (electric) stove in the Bangor house in order to die with dignity. I think Beff disposed of them with as much dignity as she could muster (sniff). But it certainly put in relief why every time we take the cats to Maine they spend a large part of the day in the kitchen staring at the stove. So at first I suggested traps and D-Con for while she was gone, but then we had the collective brainstorm to have the cats in Maine for two weeks in order to have them air out their instincts and become professional mousers during that time. So they are there now, and getting them there was just slightly more difficult than usual, since they now know that when the cat carriers come out of the attic, there's a long cooped-up ride ahead of them. Cammy, in fact, ran under the couch and started growling. In the end, I won.

So Beff took them there this last Sunday, and immediately they started hanging around the stove. So our nefarious plan is working.

Meantime. I did my normal Monday Brandeis teaching -- an office hour, two theory classes; but I did not drive to Boston to teach at NEC because they get Columbus Day off and Brandeis does not. So along with UV and Bob Nieske, I manned a table in Gosman Gym at the yearly fall open house for prospective students looking at Brandeis. It was a good thing there were three of us, since there were a lot of people asking about the department, and there was a line for at least 45 minutes of our hour and a half. Every year we get at least one prospective who doesn't want to ask about the department so much as stand there and drone on about how he or she got to like music, what pieces they learned, what they've been listening to, etc., and this year I got that one. So after that was all done, back home I came, with maybe two hours of grading to do.

Tuesday was a Thursday day, so I taught straight without a break from 9 to 2:30; grading was about two hours that night. Wednesday became a bit of a reprieve day, even though I still had a 9 am student and two theory classes. My 12:00 and 2:00 had both become ill and cancelled; so at 12 I was lookin' for a lunch second, but as I was about to do that, I got an e-mail from my 1:00 saying he, too, was sick. Incidentally, every cancelling person was looking for an alternative time on Thursday to meet, and I gave 10 minutes to somebody and a half hour to someone else, simply because my Thursday people, having just seen me on Tuesday, probably could do with just a half hour of instruction, and, and, and ... so anyway, even though I have a published 3-4 office hour on Wednesday, I came home. Played with cats. Hung out and graded homework in the gazebo (for a little while, anyway -- it was in the mid 50s). Grading was two and a half hours.

And on Thursday, everyone in both theory classes had major species counterpoint fatigue, and much of both classes was themed around how completely fatigued we all were. When my teaching was up, I hightailed it outta there, came home, and ... rested. For it was the fourth day.

The weekend was largely uneventful. Beff came home on Friday instead of Thursday because of various things in academia that have sucked her in. We exercised, we played with the cats, etc. We even took the long, long walk OVER Summer Hill (highest elevation in Maynard), which is a big hike, and circled around through downtown (at which time I took the baby foliage pictures below). Alas, my new Timberland laceless shoes are apparently a little inappropriate for hiking, as I had to keep retightening my left shoe. Because it was, uh, loose. THEN just after lunch time, Cammy and Sunny got taken to Maine. And after that was the grading, about three and a half hours.

So this most recent Monday was more typical. Office hour, two classes, drive to Boston. I now don't have a 1:00, at least for most of the rest of the term, so I can have a more leisurely lunch -- which I tend to do at an Irish pub place called Conor Larkin, which has Buffalo wings. After that lunch, I found Espresso Music -- in a building owned by NEC in which I used to take trombone lessons -- which has an excellent selection, AND a discount for NEC faculty. Where I got the Stravinsky Octet and Three Pieces for String Quartet. Good thing I had the discount. Taught Miriam and Travis, had a roaring good time. Came home, and rested. Did about an hour and a half of grading.

Then Tuesday morning it hit me. At 7:30 am I saw how vast the pile of yet to be graded homework was and flipped my gourd. But not literally. I finished the grading around lunch time and finally breathed out. While I was grading, an A&E Repairman was here (I think that's what it's called -- it appears on the credit card statement as being related to Sears, who seems to own everything) replacing the broken handle on the Whirlpool front loader washer (which broke after only two years. Never buy a Whirlpool appliance again, and I won't either, okay?) -- final cost $215, of which $65 was for the new handle (the rest was for the labor), which clearly is made of about $3 worth of materials. See picture below. And then when that was all done, I reveled at opening and closing the washer door without using a screwdriver (words by which to live).

In the meantime, I had ordered my 2007 cheap percussion toy things from Musician's Friend, and they arrived on Tuesday -- a guiro, a triangle, bongos, and a shaker. They all got taken to Brandeis for the fun that you can have with them when they are at Brandeis. I also got more chatter stones at the 5 and 10 in West Concord, since they have them (I actually bought all the ones they had left), and I am obsessive about having "good" ones for the piano concerto performance. For you see, in the piano concerto's third movement, all three percussionists use them simultaneously and for the effect to be right, they have to be pristine. Etcetera. Meanwhile, I had started noticing that the toy piano I had ordered from All About Pianos hadn't arrived, and was giving it one more day. One more day. One more. One. On. O. And as if just piling it on -- one thing for which I was nominated that I had applied for e-mailed me to say, hey where's your application? The deadline passed! Sigh. As I geared up to replicate it, they e-mailed back and said never mind, here it is right here. Grrr.

Wednesday was a trippy day since it was nonstop -- Short Peter's big flute piece, third species twice, Dave's piano pieces and jazz band piece upcoming, Tall Peter's trio, Yohanan's duo, an office hour where a new major got signed up and I had to have other various conversations with undergrads, and ... I drove home. No toy piano arrival. Looked at the online banking statement and discovered that my debit card had never been charged for it. So, sigh, I did it again. Now it's SUPPOSED to arrive next Monday, and I have a UPS tracking number, and everything. Then while watching boring political TV, spent two and a quarter hours grading. And slept strangely soundly (now there's a title....).

Yesterday was Rachel's musical, the championship of third species twice (prize: goopy eyes that glow in the dark) and introduced fourth species, Florie's piano piece, Jeremy's trio, Rick's dissertation piece, and back to home. And it got strangely warm again, and very, very humid -- so much so that there are a lot of ladybugs in various windows in the house, and that's just gross. Constructed handouts for next week's theory classes (as I show them some actual counterpoint in music). I got the DVD from John Aylward's Tufts recital, extracted my two pieces and put them on YouTube (now there are four) -- and for the first time I actually liked Chorale Fantasy. Eww. And then slept in the gazebo, until 2:30. And again, strangely soundly.

I began this morning at 6:45, had what you read above for breakfast. Then I proceeded to write nine Rome Prize letters, none of which I saved on the computer (they sure better get there). I'm pretty sure at least seven of the people I wrote for won't get it, and I hope they don't blame me. When the letters were done and signed, I walked to the post office, mailed them, gave bones to Zoe at Maynard Door and Window (Zoe is a dog, incidentally), and had the Trader Joe's pizza, and here I am!

MEANWHILE. My piano concerto premieres two weeks from today. The excitement is not yet palpable, though there are bits of worrisome worrying that are not being done by me. Right now the question of the day is -- will "Marilyn's" toy piano make it from New York to Boston? I'm not stressed about that, and neither is Gil Rose (the conductor). There IS a new one coming to Maynard on Monday (so they say) but there's no guarantee it will have the requisite action to be useful in my piece (it gets played very fast). It's also being recorded in Worcester on Monday the 5th of November, so planning makeup teaching is yet another small burden being placed here -- and meanwhile, while Marilyn is in town, she's doing a colloquium at Brandeis on Thursday the 1st at 4:30 and will be speaking with me to Eric Chasalow's American Music class on Halloween -- guess what about? No, not goblins.

And as part of the big publicity blitz (on top of Gil Rose's official description of this concert as a "barn burner"), I am being interviewed on WMBR Radio in Cambridge (88.1) on Tuesday afternoon at 3. I plan to construct elaborate falsehoods, right there on the spot! And meanwhile -- I have revised the syllabus for first year theory to accommodate the rehearsals that conflict with teaching, and vice versa. And whaddaya know -- another huge big fat piece coming up with yet another equally elaborate premiere (since there are five of them) and I now know that March 2 and the USMB is at Northern Virginia Community College, and the SMU one in Dallas is on April 25. Anyone coming along for either of those? Ah, but I digress. Of course we digress! Don't everybody?

And Dalit Warshaw got a "Google alert" that this here space used her name last time (pictures from the MacDowell reunion). I had no idea such a thing existed, and she used the occasion to hit me up for a Rome Prize letter (Don't everybody?). So she says she learned of its existence from Michael Torke (hi Michael! You are a great composer!), and now she's going to get an alert that she "hit me up" for a letter. This is okay. This is. This. Thi. Th. T.

Upcoming. Duh, piano concerto. Thanksgiving in Chicago. This is midterm week, and I had to submit midterm grades (which, surprisingly, isn't even close to the top of the pile of Stupidest Things I Am Required To Do Regularly At Brandeis), so that must mean the term is half over. I prefer to think of it as half under. And as usual, time has seemed to go very fast and very slow at the same time. The slow thing -- that's what's happenin' as a result of you reading this. The fast thing -- that's what you feel when you finally throw your hands up and stop reading. So.

Beff and I have a usual 2-1/2 mile exercise walk that is a loop going over the Assabet, etc., and we've been unable to do so for a while because the old 1920 bridge has been demolished and a new one is going up. One of the lanes actually got demolished about 6 years ago and it's been a one-lane bridge, with a whole mess of construction material just sitting nearby all that time. Finally I guess the town got enough money to finish the job. So we don't do the big circle anymore. It's more like a loopy rubber band, and what it is, too. So see the construction in the pictures below. See also the entire washer handle assembly that cost $65, Sunny on the gazebo, and various baby foliage from around Maynard. Bye.

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NOVEMBER 6. Breakfast today was rice link sausages with 2% milk cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch yesterday was the cajun chicken wrap (with Droolie!) at Spoodles in Worcester. Last night's dinner was Boca sausage sandwiches and a whole mess o' celery with hot sauce. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 26.8 and 78.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS First movement of the Rakowski Piano Concerto. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Tires and new muffler/tailpipe, $840. New little camera and data card, $342. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: At NEC there were 5 required semesters of music history courses, and it was obviously presumed that students would take one per semester, because the final exams for all of them were always scheduled at the same time. Little did I know when I took THREE the second semester of my freshman year -- Medieval/Renaissance, Baroque, and 20th Century. Trying to schedule the makeup times for conflicts looked like it'd be daunting until Dan Pinkham and Bill Warriner both put me on their list of "so smart they don't have to take the Final". So I had no conflict, and I aced John Heiss's 20th Century final, too. At the time, there was only three-fourths of the 20th century to cover, so there was less material. (and still no Britten) THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Dristal. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF Driving to New York (even though I only did it once), Congressional Democrats, grading counterpoint homework. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS lemonade and limeade, celery dipped in hot sauce. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK D major followed by F7/Eb is hot, hot, hot! THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 2.14923. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Reviews 4. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy is doing the occasional Wild Kitty thing for no reason in the early morning. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 19. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE: We subscribe to Entertainment Weekly, and the first place I turn to in every issue is the quotes from TV last week. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: In foliage season, leaves do the same thing that dusted vampires do on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,841. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.79 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard, $3.05 in Connecticut, $2.89 at the Gulf station near Brandeis. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a snood, an old Fifth Dimension 45, twelve more ways of looking at a blackbird, a pie with a few too many prunes in it.

I just flew in from the other room, and boy is my face tired. But seriously, ladies and germs. It have been a very active couple o' weeks, and I'm just the guy to tell you about them. Just watch me!

But first. I looked at a few statistics for access to this very website. Yes, dear readers, the one you are currently reading. And these came up for last Thursday and last week:

Call me Martler

Jeasas

Dear Mummy

Scool papers

Buttstix

[pic]

[pic]

These may be meaningless to you, but I assure you, they are equally meaningless to me. On the right, though -- the most viewed page is the Home page, but the second most viewed page (usually not even on the chart) is the Buttstix page. Hmm.

When last we spoke (I speak figuratively now), I was still in the throes of teaching fourth species counterpoint and was about to move on to fifth. Which I did, Oscar, I did. The time spent grading the homework declined nicely, and I probably only spent about five hours grading homework, instead of what had become the customary thirteen, last week. I also enforced a discipline of starting to grade sooner than later. It didn't last.

Meanwhile the Needy Season arrived, and enough students wanted advice and so on that I scheduled some lessons and stuff for some no longer enrolled but going towards dissertation during my office hours, and of course I managed to corral some more new majors and minors. Plus, I went to a faculty senate meeting that actually concluded in less than the allotted time. What I least like about Faculty Senate meetings is that a large part is spent assigning people to committees, a chore I dislike. So I spend a great deal of time trying to will myself into invisibility. So far it seems to have worked. One of these days it won't work any more.

Then the piano concerto event ramped up, and ramped up pretty quickly. On the Tuesday following the last update, I was scheduled by BMOP's publicist for a live radio appearance on the MIT radio station, to be interviewed by the estimable Ken Field. And if you were to ask me, I couldn't come up with a workable definition of "estimable", so I'll leave it up to the context to explain it, and that usually suffices. On that date, then, I figured I would try to park at a local commuter rail station and take a train in. Plus, I was scheduled within the nth degree to meet with Gil Rose beforehand to go over particulars on the CD that BMOP is making -- I had already factored in that he would be late by 15 to 25 minutes. So I drove to South Acton station, and there was no parking. Thus I drove to West Concord and found ONE spot, and was on time for the 11:07 train, which actually arrived at 11:32. Fine, since I wasn't due for any appointment until 1:45. I ate lunch at the Cambridge Common, where I had "sliders" -- apparently the new cool thing at some restaurants. Basically White Castle burgers, except more complicated (with counterpoint and a definite urlinie).

At 1:45 I got a call on my cell phone from Gil saying he was just finishing lunch and would be right there -- which by now was Kendall Square. At 2:14 we met and at 2:30 I had to amble to the station, and the weather was gorgeous, if airy. The interview was personable and mellow -- as one would expect -- and it was odd being the guy who writes skittery, fast music on the program of a guy who obviously leans toward mellow jazz. So he played some of my slow music. Which isn't mellow, but by definition is slow. We finished early enough that I could get the 4:05 out of Porter back to West Concord and not have to wait till the 5:00. Heck, there was even enough time for me to purchase some commuter rail tickets in the new automated machines!

The next big event had to do with getting the toy piano from Marilyn's office at NYU to Boston, and that problem wasn't getting solved by the BMOP office -- which was, of course, swamped with stuff to do for the first concert of the season. So on Friday morning I up and started to drive New Yorkwards. And just a few hundred feet short of the toll booths in Worcester, I heard the sound of my muffler dragging on the road. Sigh. I pulled over, called 911 (this is why we get cell phones), had a police car with flashing lights in back of me for 25 minutes, and then a nice, really big tow truck guy showed up with a flatbed. He looked at the muffler and said, "how'd you like for me to fix it right now? You could just drive off". I said okay, and he pulled a bunch of wire clothes hangers out of his truck and a wire cutter. He spent maybe ten minutes under the car, occasionally coming out to cut another piece of hanger, and said "that'll be 15 bucks. It'll last for weeks, maybe months." I was grateful. I had, meanwhile, called Marilyn to let her know I couldn't make it, and she started making plans to get a driver for the piano (she doesn't drive) and her, and I was able to call her back a half hour later to let her know I was on my way. Of course, I was extremely cognizant of every single bump for the first 20 miles or so, before I loosened up a bit.

I made it to Marilyn's office a little after 11, she handed over the contraband, and I drove right back. Getting from the east side to the west side took 25 minutes, whereas west to east took 5. Remember that, kimosabe. At the first rest stop in Connecticut I looked at the jerryrigged setup, and the muffler was still in place, though the clamp part was a-swingin' free. Which I sort of reattached. Success! But of course I couldn't bring the toy piano to rehearsal, so Gil Rose -- who seems to be able to do just about anything -- arranged for Tony D'Amico (who lives not so far away) to pick it up from my back porch Saturday night and bring it to the first rehearsal. He was like a thief in the night, except we WANTED him to take our stuff. Meanwhile, as my "payment" for doing the toy piano run, I wheedled a bunch of free tickets from BMOP -- 10 for students who had to ask for tix for "Amanda Lovankiss" and 3 for friends (Rick Scott, a ka-ching twin, and Seunghee) who had to ask for tix for "Super Malibu Barbie". David Sanford only had to ask for the unusual name of "David Rakowski".

On the weekend, the RAKING portion of our autumn began in earnest. Saturday -- on which day I took the car to the Toyota dealer to be fixed, and was told I also needed new tires (the tailpipe was cracked, also -- which must have been from that piece of sidewalk that I drove over several weeks back) -- it rained a whole mess. Nonetheless, we got stuff at Trader Joes (which is near the Toyota Dealer) and had good stuff to eat. Really. Sunday it cleared up and there were big piles of leaves on the driveway (the border of driveway and yard was not discernible), so we cleared those as a start. The leaves were so heavy from the rain that we broke not one, but TWO rakes barreling them and discarding them. In all, we took care of about ten barrels of them. To continue the narrative here -- the following Tuesday I raked the northwest portion of the front yard, then the rest of the yard and most of the driveway last Sunday. The current total taken care of now numbers 39 barrels plus eight barrels of fallen apples from a particularly fecund year for them (boy do I want to get rid of that tree NOW). PLUS I took care of some of the branches from yet another ailanthus tree that fell from the neighbor's yard into ours -- the neighbor took care of the actual tree part. For you see, it had been windy that Friday. And on Sunday I spilled ice tea on my little Sony camera, thus making it inoperative. So I bought another one, 8 megapixels instead of 5, and for less money. So there.

Back to the master narrative. Which will entitle The Glamour of Being A Living Classical Composer. Note the European spelling of "glamour". Note the American spelling of "composer". Note the universal definition of "being". Rehearsals began last Tuesday, in the basement of a Masonic Hall in Cambridge, and again my nefarious plan was to take the commuter rail in. I happened to be unlucky enough for the first rehearsal to coincide with the day Boston was giving a parade to celebrate the Red Sox World Series victory, and this time there was no parking at South Acton OR West Concord, so I connived to park in a neighborhood nearby, all the while willing my car to be invisible (it was still evident when I got back, so it must have worked). And the train -- late by 25 minutes again. Too bad there isn't 25 minutes worth of stuff to do in West Concord. SO, the train was loaded with lots of Red Sox people talking about how they never go into Boston or take the train, and was SO full that it was ... free! Life's small consolations.

So in Cambridge, at the Masonic Hall, all were present, and even the toy piano made it. The first rehearsal went swimmingly (I may be all wet when I say that ... sorry, that one was too easy, plus it's not even funny), and things sounded surprisingly good (given that I wrote them). The wind playing in particular was splendiforous, and I made a few rough recordings for the sake of reference. The piano was something that Marilyn lovingly called "kindling", but all 88 keys worked. After this rehearsal, Marilyn and I dinnered with John Aylward at the Cambridge Common (wouldn't you?), and I got a nice commuter rail back. I got the rehearsal files and made a CD for reference sake for Marilyn.

And then was Monday, a normal teaching day except that Marilyn and I were to lead Eric Chasalow's American music class at noon. Which we did, though I got a call on my cell while teaching theory from Marilyn that she got off at the wrong stop. A cab brought her in in the nick of time (the class was particularly impressed with the quality of wind playing for a first rehearsal). And fun we had. After my next 3 hours of teaching, we came back to Maynard, had seafood, and Marilyn went back to her hotel.

Thursday was another one of those days morning rehearsal, and gorgeous weather. I got into Cambridge early, thus discovering that during rush hour the worst traffic is near Concord, and near where Route 2 goes to the Alewife Parkway. The morning rehearsal went extremely well, I got more reference recordings, and a violinist collapsed and was rushed away by EMT's. A strange situation that was the first time for me, and Gil Rose handled it expertly. Then, after I fed my meter a few times, we drove to Brandeis using the route I used to use when I subletted in Cambridge. It's prettier during the daylight. And I was ONLY ten minutes late to my usual Thursday teaching. Which was followed by a faculty meeting and a colloquium by Marilyn, which was very well received. After dinner with the faculty, back home came I. Just about ten minutes before Beff got in.

Friday was the concert, of course. Beff had to go to a conference of "telling our assessment stories" at Holy Cross College, and I went into Boston in order to park for the overnight, and got a nice lunch at Pizzeria Uno, and it was an excellent dress rehearsal, which again I made reference recordings of (see "Concerto 1 dress" link in green above -- for the other movements, substitute the number 2, 3 and 4 for "1") and even a little Flip Video of the first five minutes before I got tired of holding the thing (see "Concerto Opening" link). Right as my dress rehearsal ended, Beff called -- she was in our room at the Colonnade Hotel, so timing was exquisite. After meeting her there and relaxing a bit, we dinnered at Betty's Wok and Noodle (used to be Ann's Restaurant, 89 cents for a burger and fries, what happened to my youth, etc.) and convened in time for the pre-concert thing with Lisa Bielawa, who, as always, was in fine form. When Michael Colgrass brought up how sometimes in writing, the piece starts to talk to you, and I was asked to comment about that, and being literal instead of all metaphorical, I noted that recreational drugs often helps with such things. Because my pieces often have unibrows.

Then there was the concert. Excellent, excellent, playing all around, and so much music! My piece started at 9:56 and ended at 10:32. Frank Oteri sat right in back of us and Richard Buell right in back of him, and Marilyn was amazing. The toy piano plus piano excerpt was probably conceived as something funny and ironic, but given the tempo at that time, I noticed people staring gape-mouthed at that moment, and the funny one toy piano note in the cadenza got no laughs (gape mouths were still in evidence, and I think I noticed myself drooling out of mine by this point). There were lots of curtain calls (five, I think), and it was fun being backstage watching the monitor during Marilyn's solo curtain call -- when she tried to get the orchestra to stand, but they wouldn't.

But wait, there's more! Reception afterwards, much champagne, driving back on Saturday just before the remnants of a hurricane were set to pass over -- we stopped at Whole Foods for staples on the way. And on Sunday after the wind and rain was done, Beff had to leave early, and I raked 19 barrels of leaves. And went to a student composers concert at Brandeis featuring several people from my piano concerto. But then ....

Yesterday was the recording session, in the Great Hall of Mechanics Hall in Worcester. 10-1 and 2-4:30. I drove in fairly early to get all-day parking, and boy is Worcester a strange-looking town. At least the downtown part. Definitely had its prime in about 1880. The good thing was getting parking within 2 blocks of the gig for eight bucks for the whole day. And the recording went extremely well -- we were able to fix everything that had tended to rush and boy did it sound hot! For lunch, I met Droolie at Spoodles on Main Street (a lot of the orchestra had the same idea, as did Gil), and was reminded that technically she was my supervisor at Black Achievers of the YMCA back in 1986-88. Wow. Now she's a lawyer, working downtown on auto insurance stuff, and has a gorgeous big ol' house. And two kids. And she's not my supervisor any more. But I still let her tell me what to do (for instance, "let's sit here" and "leave the plates there"). I paid. After the orchestral part was done (we finished ten minutes early), Marilyn recorded the cadenza in bits, and off we went. And there I was, carrying a toy piano down Main Street in Worcester. And it's now situated back in our dining room. Whew. The review appeared today in the Globe and should already be in my Reviews 4.

Meantime. I didn't learn my already learned lesson and still have grading to do today. Plus I have to go into the 'Deis today for a rehearsal of "Disparate Measures", which the Lyds and Steve Drury are performing Saturday (this Glamorous Being of a Classical Composer never ends), and on top of all that, Beff and I are going to the BSO Friday night. Berg Violin Concerto! Mahler 9! We'll be there like forever! And what else is up? Raking, raking, raking. Teaching, teaching, teaching (at least it's not counterpoint any more). Chicago for Thanksgiving. This semester has, as usual, gone really fast and really slow at the same time. Plus it looks like more willing myself into invisibility in the next few weeks. Oh yeah, and Linda Reichert is doing a couple of etudes in Philly with Network for New Music this weekend, and I can't make it (raking, Disparate Measures, etc.) But she's plugging the concert on YouTube -- see red "Linda Reichert" link up there.

And pictures! Beff has the new little camera in Maine, so the dress rehersal pictures I have will have to wait for the next update. But there are some RECORDING SESSION shots I took yesterday with the old Nikon. What we have here is Slosberg Music Center -- first picture I took with the new camera -- backyard with fewer leaves on trees, Cammy trying to be cute, the jerryrig of the muffler, Marilyn contextualized in the gazebo, the recording session, the control room, and Marilyn at the recording session. Bye.

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NOVEMBER 20. Breakfast today was rice link sausages with 2% milk cheese, grapefruit juice (slightly fizzy), and coffee. Lunch was Buffalo wings from Neighborhood Pizzeria. Dinner last night was a Red Baron Deluxe Frozen Pizza. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 21.7 and 64.8. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Fourth movement of the Rakowski Piano Concerto. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS iPod Touch, unknown. Christmas present for Beff, tell you later. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: One of my spare time leisure activities when I was in fourth grade was drawing maps -- of states, the USA, and of the world. I had tons of them discarded and lying around, as we had unlimited cardboard that my father had pilfered from his job at a paper mill. At Christmastime, when it's time to give the suck-up gift to the teacher, my parents got me something to give her (I didn't know in advance what it was) and used my discarded maps as padding within the wrapping. Naturally, the teacher, upon unwrapping, was programmed to ooh and aah about how nice the maps I'd drawn were. But she had a bigger surprise ahead of her -- the actual gift. I don't remember what it was. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Sloosky. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF The little ol' TMJ thing, Mass Pike traffic at 4 pm. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS anything with hot sauce, salad with mini gourmet tomatoes. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Facebook. And the wow 'em every time interface of the iPod Touch. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 4. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Psycho cat still happens with Cammy early in the morning; for a time this morning, Cammy was sleeping curled up right on my (exposed) elbow. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 12. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE I entered the New Yorker caption contest twice. (I stopped doing it when the New Yorker started spamming me about it) WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: "Magic" is a four letter word. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,872. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.97 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard, $2.99 at the Gulf station near Brandeis. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a perfectly scaled small replica of the Empire State building that fits exactly in your nose, a place where you put all of your wants and dreams, the end of a cigarette butt, the unbearable likeness (sic) of being.

The last update came the day after Davy's Piano Concerto was recorded, and before Davy started referring to himself in third person -- which is something I hope will stop soon. Oh, look -- it just did. I'm sure by now most of you know I'm the glitzy Cover Boy of New Music Box for November, and it's got a video presentation including me talking on it that I just can't watch. The sucker came out pretty well despite the egregious TMJ I was having that day. TMJ aggravated by stress? Well, so they say. Although they stamped the day of the interview wrong -- it wasn't September 10, but September 21. Put that in your pipe and see if it sticks.

The piano concerto review was pretty good, though Joanne Kong's name was misspelled as Tong, and last time I checked it was still misspelled on BMOP's reference to the review on its site. They have added the program notes attached to the concert to the site, as well as the press release that calls me rock-influenced and serial. This is like saying that a tree is tan-ish and has stuff inside whose name begins with an "x". But that was a bad riff. I'll try again later, unless I don't.

The mundane business of getting back to teaching was what happened next, and the volume of homework for me to grade naturally kicked back up a notch -- not as much as during species counterpoint, but a lot still -- some time was saved by the fact that now some of the questions have only one answer and I don't have to make judgment calls on the fly. To wit -- LAST Tuesday I began the grading around 9 am, and after three or four homeworks I tended to go out and do some raking, then come back in and grade, repeat. I finished the grading for that day at 3:30 pm, but I also managed more than ten barrels worth raked, barreled, and discarded. I rule. Or, to put it in third person, Davy rules.

And while we are on the subject of the never-ending rake-a-thon -- on this most recent Sunday (no! Davy! don't go all nonlinear on us!), Beff and I up and went out to do the immediate backyard all the way to the rhubarb, and that we did. I also retrieved the lawnmower fromt the basement, where it had been put for the season, started it, and mowed a swath near the apple tree where the grass was still growing and had gotten too high for good a-rakin'. The backyard looked SO pristine after the Sunday rakingness that later in the day when I spied two maple leaves in the yard, I went right out and took them away. And I also took a picture. I stopped counting barrels raked after 20, but have kept an estimated tab -- I think we're up to about 95, meaning 5 or 10 remain, and those suckers are still on the trees. Grrrmph. It's the parking strip the the west of the house, and a re-rake of the area in back of the garage that will remain. Fascinating.

And meanwhile, the Christmas shopping and Christmas GETTING season began. Beff had seen (and probably heard, and maybe tripped on) me drooling over the iPod Touch (Beff didn't want one, preferring instead to get the next generation iPhone when the Verizon contract is up next October), and she seemed to have gotten one shipped from Amazon. And since we're going out of town soon (12 hours or so from when this is posted), she gave it to me so I'd be able to web surf from any wi-fi spot while we're gone. I, meanwhile, had almost completely forgotten that Beff had given me a Chicago Art Institute gift catalog opened to a page with what she wanted -- it had gotten covered on the dining room table with various programs and other stuff I had dropped there over several weeks. And I up and made the order, right away. So I've carreid the iPod Touch around to various places, had a devil of a time getting it to stay connected to the Brandeis wi-fi in Slosberg (the web page kept telling me to restart my computer, which strictly speaking can't be done with the iPod Touch, but I outwitted it -- I chose a different wireless network, then went back to the one I wanted anyway, and voila). Now I can do wireless in Slosberg, which is moot since I have a computer anyway.

And I am now the proud owner of another toy piano -- this makes four. John Aylward had found one in Arizona(!) to give me as a birthday present and to commemorate my piano concerto, and it finally got to me a short while ago -- it's much smaller than the ones I already had, has a two and a half octave range, and has a bigger sound than any of them. And currently it's on the computer table in the dining room -- we're running out of space....

And also in the meantime, Don Berman has performed the two piano etudes I wrote for him around several times, and I got a CD of the performances at Tufts from last month -- they are stunning (see green Dorian Blue and Chase links to the left). Much nicer sounding than the premieres from last April, where the A 440 on the piano he had was pretty far out (of tune, that is -- not groovy), and very impeccably and exquisitely phrased. Really. I mean, go and listen already.

The week after the concerto was Disparate Measures week, and that included hearing the Lydian Quartet and Steve Drury in rehearsal at Slosberg and being available for the pre-concert talk on November 10, and it all went swimmingly. Though I must say I wasn't too pleased with the piano they had to use. Talk about brittle-sounding. There are piano issues at Slosberg right now that I won't get into, except to say that there are piano issues at Slosberg right now that I won't get into, except to say that there are piano issues at Slosberg right now that I won't get into.

And finally, in music theory 1 -- to continue this nonlinear narrative thing -- last week I got to introduce the concept of chord progression, and what makes a succession a progression, etc. The Kostka-Payne textbook we are using uses a complicated diagram that looks kind of like a circuit diagram of the inside of E.T.'s head (an issue that I won't get into) that makes much more sense when explained. And as usual I used the riding the sled down the mountain music from How the Grinch Stole Christmas as an example of melodic sequence (something that reminds me that Beff thought the revised ending of Cerberus sounded like that music, even though it doesn't). AND -- as usual, I am giving them advance warning that progressions like root position ii followed by root position I don't work, and as usual I get the "why? It sounds good" unanswerable question. I also told them to follow V with IV only when writing a blues tune, but sometimes these references don't get absorbed.

And this reminds me. ONLY TWO WEEKS LEFT TO THE TERM. WOO FRIGGIN HOO (that was the inside of my head talking there).

I sent Marilyn a bunch of my snaps from the concerto rehearsals that I'd put onto my computer, but as I said last time, there were plenty still trapped on the card, in the camera, which Beff had taken to Maine. So I sent her more, especially of the dress rehearsal in Jordan Hall, when the camera came back. I then got an e-mail notification from : Marilyn Nonken has tagged you in a photo. And when I clicked on the link, I got to see that a picture that Lisa Bielawa (hey Michael Torke -- hi! You are a great composer!) had taken of Marilyn and me had been put into one of Marilyn's Facebook photo albums called "Caught in the Act", and I was directed to register for YouTube if I wanted to see the rest. So I did, Oscar, I did. I'm now on YouTube, a new world for which I had no expectations.

And then I started getting lists of other Facebook members with whom I might want to be friends. I clicked on some of them (Marilyn, for instance, and Amy D, and Winston Choi, and Lisa Bielawa (hey Michael Torke! Hi! You are a great composer!) and soon found myself with 5 or 6 friends. The next day teaching Dave Guerette (the first composer for whom I'm using music by John Adams as a model, and I hope it won't be the last), he noticed I had Facebook, and reveled in the fact that he had more friends. So I asked myself -- is this what Facebook is for? Competing to get the most friends?

So suddenly I got invited to join the Facebook Toy Piano group, and the Hello My Name Is David Smooke group (98 members), and I had a mailbox full of e-mails from Facebook telling me various people had asked to be my friend, and ... then all hell broke loose. I uploaded pictures and a video to the Toy Piano group, created a photo album with pictures of me, used a Simpsons avatar of me that Sarah Manguso had done as my ID picture, got more and more friends who had just joined, and finally -- started getting friends from colonies and not specifically from our composer music scene. And this is already way too much detail. But I HAVE been posting on some peoples' walls (it's a Facebook thing) and enjoying changing my "David Rakowski is...." setting fairly regularly. For a while I was on the cusp, and for another while I was beside myself thus proving that you can live in five dimensions. And the nerdliness of this paragraph just went off the charts.

Today I had coffee and conversation with Biljana, a pianist whose last name I have yet to memorized, who is in the Ibis Camerata, doing recordings and concerts, and so on, and I gave her music and a recording. And coffee. Always coffee. And for our rendezvous at the Boston Bean House in Maynard, the weather -- predicted to be light rain showers -- turned into an accumulating snowfall. Less than an inch, I am sure, but it's the first snow of the season, what it is, too, and what it is, too. It being a very wet snow, I am now witnessing for the first time in the season the pine tree branches weighted down and slouching. Note to self: only four months till the first crocuses.

And I am now on a Board with a five year term. I agreed to join the Board of the Barlow Endowment for Music Composition (you may remember that my Cantina commission came from them), having been recommended by the outgoing (in more ways than one) Mindy Wagner to take her place on that board. Responsibilities include doing a four-day session in Utah every August at a ski resort to determine who gets those commissions. Composers reading this -- don't get your hopes up. I am a very impartial juror for such things, and usually recuse myself in the first round when the applicant is someone I taught.

Tomorrow we head for Chicago for Thanksgiving with Joe and Stacy in Evanston, and during that trip we also plan on seeing Lee and Kate for beer and dinner at the Goose Island Brewery, and Amy D at her place in Hyde Park for whatever it is we do there. And we also plan, for once, to be completely passive in the construction of the Thanksgiving meal. I'll probably be playing with my iTouch (which I still type as "iTough" before I catch myself, and what it is, too). We come back on Saturday. Oh yeah, last Friday Dewek and I looked over his BMOP piece for content and orchestration, and I conned him into coming in once while we're gone to check on the kitties. He will, Oscar, he will.

And after the weekend -- did I mention TWO WEEKS OF SCHOOL? Yeah, well, but three more meetings with Miriam and Travis at NEC. Then maybe I'll finally get back to work on those Philis Levin (hi, Michael -- you are a great composer!) songs.

I still do not have the good recording of the piano concerto performance, so in the green links on the left, hear my Edirol dress rehearsal recordings, if you dare. And this week's pictures go all the way back to pre-concerto and stretch to just a few hours ago. First two shots of after Marilyn's Brandeis colloquium (new furniture in the hall!), Marilyn at the second rehearsal (what clue can YOU find that the colloquium was the same day as the second rehearsal?) and then at the dress, the picture Marilyn put on Facebook, the toy piano in my office next to the new one John A. got me, then three toy pianos and a pump organ in our dining room, the pristine quality of the backyard after we raked it, and snow this morning on the gazebo! Bye.

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DECEMBER 4. Breakfast today was rice link sausages with 2% milk cheese, grapefruit juice, potato pancakes, and coffee. Dinner last night was a can of Amy's Chunky Vegetable Soup with interwoven crackers, and salad. Lunch was the chicken caesar wrap at Conor Larkin's near NEC. Lunch today will be a Red Baron's Deep Dish Pizza, and what it is, too. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 15.8 and 61.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Third movement of the Rakowski Piano Concerto. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Christmas tree stand, $62; Christmas tree, $35; airport parking, $64; secret Xmas present for Beff, $tell you later (actually, I won't -- it's just an expression). POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I used to work in the NEC Libary (work study) and was considered responsible enough to close the place up at 6 on Fridays -- after which often Jody Rockmaker and I would go to the Ground Round at the Pru. Inside the library enclosure was also the electronic music studio, in the dungeon. One week I violated protocol and allowed someone working on a project to keep using the studio after closing hours. The next Monday in the hall he thanked me. I said, "for what?" And he said, "for Friday night". Which attacted a little bit of attention. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Soorpy. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF Marking parallel fifths and octaves, shoveling snow, yet more requests from students for extensions. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS anything with hot sauce, Inko's tea with key lime juice. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Frank Lloyd Wright's Oak Park studio. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 17 (we're outside the box again this week). REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They look cute using the litter box, which is enclosed and a bit small for them. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 23. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE I have a hat that reads "I Believe in Santa Claus". WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Free tomatoes for everybody. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,974. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.99 at Cumberland Farms, $3.09 at the nearby Mobil station. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a seventh that resolves incorrectly to a ninth, the plastic tie on a bread bag, a missing page in my dictionary, an unusual place to store your cigars.

Dear reader -- those low two figures of you -- are going to have to be unusually devoted to get through this update. For you see, the events of the last fortnight don't lend themselves to interesting reading. So I will be marshalling all the storytelling chops I have to help you make it through -- assuming that by using words like "fortnight" and "marshalling" I haven't lost you already.

Very soon following the last update, Beff got back from her teaching mini-week in Maine and went to bed. Then within an augenblick (have I lost you, dear reader?) the alarm went off, and it did so correctly, at 4 am on the day before Thanksgiving. We showered and made sure everything was packed for our impending plane ride to Chicago, drove bansheeishly to the airport (including an interesting scary moment as we entered an unpaved (and unmarked) construction zone lacking pavement), parked in long-term parking -- which is now walking distance instead of a bus ride from the terminals -- got our boarding passes (we had no carry-on luggage), and got through security about 110 minutes in advance of our plane's departure. Hmm, some Thanksgiving rush, huh? The plane was on time, Stacy picked us up, we ate brunch at a Pancake House near her apartment, and we then landed in her place in Evanston. During the next interval, we wowed 'em with the iPod Touch, took a brief walk to the lake (it is, indeed, a Great Lake) and back, and then set off for Goose Island Brew Pub in Chicago, where we were to meet Lee Hyla and Kate Desjardins for dinner.

Which we did, Oscar, we did. Despite the burden of holding two mortgages and a recently exploded furnace, they love the living in Chicago thing, Lee says Northwestern is being supportive of composition, and the location of their co-op is the "meatpacking district" -- apparently an area they are getting into pre-gentrification. Oddly, Lee and Kate invited us to the brewery but had wine and/or Maker's, and it seems as though we all had something fried -- though I also had something pulled. On our way out, we got another glimpse at our former Camry (which Lee calls the Rakmobile, but I think there's probably something wrong with him), and back home we went in the light rain.

I delighted at spending Thanksgiving Day in a passive role -- Stacy and Joe did almost all the cooking, and my only function was to surf the net on the 'Touch. My role came down to pulling the giblets out of the turkey's butt and peeling the yams and potatoes. Okay, so I wasn't TOTALLY passive -- but their peeler was so SHARP that I just had to play with it. Marc Geelhoed arrived to make a fivesome just as the turkey was ready, and we ate a great meal. Everyone had thirds -- but before that they had seconds. I also discovered that plain old cranberries make a nice snack. This may eventually turn into something. Dinner was followed by the usual "I feel fat" recitations, a game of scrabble, picture taking, and passing around the old iPod Touch. After Marc went back home, we continued to remark on how fat we felt.

Friday was a day given to relaxing, and then DRIVING and eating. Beff had reserved tickets online for us for the tour of Frank Lloyd Wright's former studio in Oak Park, so there was the drive there. We got our Christmas cards for the year at the gift shop, and I even bought a font -- kein merde. Our tour was led by a volunteer investment banker, and got so detailed that the tour behind us caught up. And it ended in an octagonal room that made us feel like we were inside a stop sign. Okay, I made that part up. We also saw the play room that was called one of the most famous rooms in the world. I tried to get its autograph, but it was having none of that.

After the tour was over, we were slated to go to Amy D's place in Hyde Park for dinner, and we were appointed for 7. Problem was, it was 4:30 when we were done, and what else was there for us to do? It was very cold out, and dark, and Stacy gave us a brief tour of one of the U of Chicago quadrangles, but it was cold. So we planted ourselves at a Starbucks (where the 'Touch found a T-Mobile hot spot that wanted me to pay actual money), and after making our hot chocolates last as long as possible, pleaded (on the phone) with Amy to let us go there early. And so we did. And there she was! In her super-long condo, with cats, piano, and huge kitchen! Making pizza for dinner! And that's when we found out that Trader Joe's clam sauce doubles as an excellent pizza sauce. There was a huge pile of music on Amy's piano -- I think she's carrying around about two and a half full programs of tough stuff in the spring, including the Davytudes 3. Ranjith the cat was especially affectionate, and eventually Stacy's cat allergies kicked in. While at dinner we passed around the 'Touch again, this time to watch various YouTube videos.

Coming back on Saturday was fairly noneventful except for the part about forgetting how to get to the long-term parking lot. The rest of the weekend was also fairly non-eventful, unless grading yet more theory homework can be considered an event. All there was to report here was a little warning from Earthlink -- my first ever -- that my allotted bandwidth for this very webpage was on the brink of being used up for the month. Must have been because of the new music box thing. So I avoided coming to this location -- and, I'm sure, dear reader, after you finish with this update, so will you.

In the meantime, I accumulated 43 friends on Facebook, and went there as a kind of respite in between things I had to accomplish. I uploaded 23 pictures, 4 videos, joined the Strindberg and Helium group, etc., and changed my "David Rakowski is" several times. And I would occasionally see what Friends had changed theirs to. And hey, Hayes finally got his indoor parking space, with a garage door opener and everything. I added Fun Wall (which turned out not to be fun at all) and the Buffy group, and got nominated for the Most Creative People thing, and every single one of these involved a pushy invitation to get all your friends to join ("Here's a list of all your friends, and we've taken the liberty of checkboxing every one of them for you"). Then on Sunday it seemed pointless. And I terminated my Facebook account. Bye bye.

Teaching has been pretty much as it has been, though I felt the need to make things a little more festive, given how close to the end of the term we are. I made Monday into sunglasses day, Wednesday into Wear Something Red Day, and Thursday into Hat Day. Teaching in a big winter hat that covers your ears was fun. And last night I prepared the final exam for Mus 101 and boy are my arms tired. In addition to teaching, I wrote a ton of recommendation letters -- both online and to be mailed (whoever it was that said college faculty had lots of free time never encountered recommendation letter season).

Yesterday was a snowstorm -- actually a little of everything, more like a slop storm. The timing was such that I kinda had to get out of bed at 5:30, shovel the driveway and walks -- with a 2-inch heavy accumulation of freezing rain on top of sleet on top of snow -- and I was able to drive to the commuter rail station in time to catch the 6:21 train. Oof. This car ride showed that Maynard plows its roads way later than Acton does. I did my morning Brandeis teaching, and was able to take the (15 minutes late!) commuter rail into Boston and do my NEC teaching. Miriam had cancelled, so it was only Travis, and I had time for a brief lunch. Coming back, I experienced the Fitchburg Express -- seven cars completely packed, and no stops between Porter and South Acton -- and had to scrape my windshield. The roads were good, and the driveway was easy to get up -- but needed to be shoveled again. Oh, my back. But Beff has it worse in Maine, where they got maybe a foot -- yesterday they cancelled classes at noon, and this morning anything before 10.

Last Saturday (to skip around a lot) we also got taken to a nice seafood dinner in Marlborough by Big Mike (ka-ching!). We had excellent seafood, and one of the most obsequious waiters yet encountered in this lifetime. And cold it was. I had salmon,and Beff had tuna. And I had Pinot Grigio. And Big Mike (ka-ching!) paid.

Skipping back further still, Michael Lipsey (also known colloquially as "hand drum guy") gave his long-expected colloquium (known colloquiumally as "his colloquium"), playing hand drums, which was quite entertaining and informative. He was coming to Brandeis with his niece, who was looking at the place, anyway, and his daughter (who drew plenty of pictures on the blackboards and erased them, thus making Slosberg 212 her own personal Etch-a-Sketch). I brought my new Flip Video Ultra WITH its little tripod to record Michael playing some of the pieces, including the two of mine he recorded, and I'm hoping to get them up onto YouTube (not Facebook, where they have already been and would now be inaccessible) once he okays it.

On Friday I encountered downtown Lexington for the first time in my life -- and the Garmin Navigator got me there excellently, since by looking at the Google Maps, I would have turned the wrong way. It's a less sleepy version of downtown Concord, and I was there to meet Gil Rose at Not Your Average Joe's for lunch, and discussion of this Rakowski Recording Project. Which we did. I also purchased another Christmas present at Waldenbooks nearby, then came home. But the nice thing about this lunch was that, four weeks after the event, I FINALLY got a recording of the performance of my piano concerto. See the green links up there. I have been listening to it a lot, because otherwise I would have to do actual work.

And on Saturday in addition to writing my nearly two dozen recommendation letters, I went with Beff to the Shaw's shopping center to get a Christmas tree. With the Subaru hatchback 4-wheel drive now in our repertoire, we were able to get a tree that fit entirely inside the car, though it was a lopsided one. And we brought it inside, put it in the regular tree stand and ... the tree stand broke. And the tree wouldn't stay up. So I sent Beff to the hardware store for a new one, and she got the super-deluxe model that will withstand Armageddon and cockroaches. And now the tree stands straight up. And we decorated it, but have spared you, dear reader, seeing a picture of it. I put a couple of gifts under the tree, and on Sunday got more classy wrapping paper from CVS, and we are ready for the holidays. If only that pesky teaching thing could get out of the way ....

Now that Tan Dun is on the cover of New Music Box and not me, it is safe to visit this web page again. I'm relegated to the archive, which suits me fine, and nobody's going to click on the "his zany web page" link any more....

This morning at 7 (why did I appoint myself so early?) I got the yearly state inspection for my car at Acton Toyota, where I also did a bunch of theory grading. Then, breakfast. And now, the update. Soon onto more theory grading. We're easily into three figures now with the parallel fifths and octaves, going for the record. Yesterday I told them that in addition to arpeggiative, cadential, passing, and pedal six-fours, there was the Straussian six-four, and I played a YouTube video of the trio from the end of Rosenkavalier. The apathy was palpable.

Coming up? Dentist, end of school year, faculty senate, resume work on Phillis Levin songs, and so on. This week's pictures include Stacy in her kitchen (when your mother tells you your face is going to freeze that way, believe her), the post-dinner picture, the taps at Goose Island brew pub, Kate and Lee, Joe and Stacy with Amy D, the cats doing their glow eye thing, a bit of the Frank Lloyd Wright house, and the gazebo and shed in the dark after the snowstorm. Bye.

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DECEMBER 19. Breakfast today was rice link sausages with 2% milk cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was a can of Progresso chicken noodle soup. Lunch today was a Celeste frozen pizza, heated up, single sized. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 1.9 and 44.8. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "My Airplane" by the Royal Guardsmen. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS New slip-on boots, $79, Land's End boots for both of us, c. $80, new slippers for Davy, $49, snow removal $180 (not yet billed), a lovely evening in the Fairfield in in South Portland for Beff, $80, the second half of the cost of the new kitchen window, $1882, other various summer work,, $1770, final payment for BMOP Sound CD, $21,193. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In the months before I entered college, I tried to learn as much music theory from books as I could. Mr. Colburn gave me his college music theory texts, and I read through those, and in the early summer (1976) during which time I was also working at Warner's, I purchased a copy of Leo Kraft's Gradus in Burlington, and availed myself of the exercises (I later used the same text at Brandeis, but found it fairly useless -- for you see, I am much more sophisticted now). One of the literature examples was the opening of a piano sonata by Dello Joio that used a Gregorian chant as source melodic material, and I learned as much of it as I could (I later bought the score in Boston). This led to many hours spent pouring over Gregorian chants and doing a set of variations on one of them. I even arranged it for woodwind quintet eventually (which now I know to be equivalent to telling someone you drew their picture on a carrot). I also wrote many Hindemith-inspired "fugues" that summer, in case you were wondering. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Plaisgow. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF Grading, academia in general (except the teaching part) RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS celery sticks dipped in hot sauce, popsicles(!), lowfat Cabot cheddar cheese. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK sand is overpriced, but exactly the right price when you need it right now. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 17 (we're outside the box again this week). REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Compositions, Home. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They are befuddled by the large pile of snow just outside the computer room window, and like to stick their paws into it and watch the little hole they make. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 19. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I have a t-shirt that has a musical setting of the phrase "I don't know how to say 'puddle' in Italian". WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Frozen precipitation occurs only north of the 45th parallel. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,984. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.99 in Waltham, $2.97 at Cumberland Farms. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE an old history of the Crimean war, triple coupon savings night at Stop and Shop, the bell on a cat's collar, prehistoric wood shavings preserved in amber.

So this update has become fortnightly, or in this case, fortnightly plus one-ly. Deal with it. In the last FortnightPlusOne (c) what has generated the most conversation and disruption to the economy in this part of the world has been the weather. Or as they say in Italy, il tempo. Or as they say in France, le temps. In the last FortnightPlusOne (c) ago update, we got to see a night shot of the back yard with a dustage of snow on it, and it was kind of pretty, and mostly harmless. That dustage actually happened after a bunch of freezing rain and all that, so it was actually the icing on top of bad traveling. And bad traveling has abounded.

Since then there have been three snowstorms spaced over the course of a week. The bookend storms were slop storms with every kind of precipitation, and the one in the middle was a plain old snowstorm, delivering ten fluffy inches. Last year at this time we were talking about global warming and how winter was coming later every year (the first accumulating snow wasn't until late January), but this year it's been, according to Them What Make, 7 to 10 degrees below normal. At least for the month of December. Hmmph. So there was a weekend slop storm the Sunday/Monday after classes ended at Brandeis (by the way: classes ended at Brandeis); there was the fast moving heavy snow of Thursday. And the weird snow to sleet to freezing rain to rain to freezing rain storm of Sunday, leaving eight inches of the white stuff before the slippery stuff started. Maynard Door and Window plows our driveway and shovels our walks in these extreme fluff events, but on this last storm the front walk was neglected. So as it turned from freezing rain to rain, I up and got outside before it got dark, shoved some gasoline into the snowblower, and marvelled that it started after being dormant for ten months. The root word of dormant means to sleep. I edged the driveway a little (I like it WIDE) and used its self-propelling feature to get me down the driveway, up the road, and to the front walk, where I had a devil of a time getting it to chew through the plow schmutz and into the sidewalk proper. But through monumental effort, and eventual maximum soreness to my wrists, I made two passes of the front walk, and then returned to get the snow off the steps. Because it is what I do.

Way back a week earlier, I awakened to glisteningness of some freezing drizzle, and kicked myself for not having gone to the Maynard depository of free sand ("PUBLIC SAND" says the sign on it), because slipperyness abounded. So I VERY CAREFULLY moved the car down the driveway and then up Great Road to Ace Hardware and bought three tubes of sand for $7 each (which would have been free the day before), and then spread maybe $10 worth of snow melt and $5 worth of sand on the driveway and walkways. I was to do this again a week later. ("I was to do" -- that's a complicated compound tense. I wonder if it has a name).

In any case. In addition to extra shoveling and snowblowing, I also used the snow rake twice, on the garage and mud room roofs, and once on the backyard shed roof, and twice I exited our bedroom with a shovel onto the flat roof over the side porch in order to rid it of snowness. Because if it rains on top of all of that, there's the remote possibility it will become heavy enough to stress, damage, or collapse the roof. And through all of this, so far the gazebo has not flinched. In fact, I'm not sure how to get a gazebo to flinch, or even to smile.

While we're on the weather, that day of the first slop storm I had decided to drive to West Concord and park in a municipal lot and take a commuter rail into NEC to do my teaching there. It felt very cold, I parked, and slipped all over the place on the sidewalks until I encountered the DUE TO INCLEMENT WEATHER TRAINS ARE RUNNING 30 MIN LATE sign at the station, so I chanced it -- I drove to NEC, encountering the last gasp of snow from that storm, had my Conor Larkins (chicken caesar wrap), and did my teaching. Driving back was a breeze, and even getting up the driveway -- now that it had five dollars of sand and ten dollars of snow melt on it -- was also easy.

Beff's time here on those weekends was nice and interesting, and of course in the latter case, cut short by the both storms. She had to get in by Friday morning for a dentist appointment, but could not leave until Thursday evening. The Thursday storm didn't even make it as far north as Bangor, so leaving was fine -- but by the time she got to Portland, the roads weren't amenable to long-range travel. So she spied a Fairfield Inn just off the highway and stayed there, and made it back to Maynard by 8 -- which means she left South Portland by 6. And the Sunday slop storm meant she left on Saturday. And it was a doozy of a storm in Bangor, and Beff had to do the snow removal herself, with the electric shovel whose extension cord is precisely long enough to get her to the end of the driveway. On Friday and Saturday we took what walks we could, but the new plenitude of snow made it hard to do our usual walking -- but we did stop at the Outdoor Store to get me new boots (they don't sell the Salomons I currently wear any more, so I got Merrell's, as well as new slippers because the old ones ... smelled....) and so forth and so on.

Meantime, my teaching at Brandeis finished, and oddly in the last week the TMJ thing seemed to get a little more severe. It's been a non-issue since the end of classes, of course, but I made it okay through that last week. And even though course evaluations are done online now (I even got three generic notifications from the Provost that I had three "low compliance" classes), I treated the last day like the faculty suck up to students day it used to be when evaluations were done in class on the last day, which included me buying six dozen doughnuts, two gallons of orange juice, and cups. And serving them. And then, despite having a syllabus that said I wouldn't do it, I accepted a large pile of overdue homework, and distributed a take home final. I graded all 34 finals yesterday, did the last overdue homeworks this morning, calculated the grades, and recorded them on line. I am free!

And Monday of this week, I did makeup lessons for Miriam and Travis, the former Leejay students that I am teaching at NEC this year. Instead of me going in, they came out here, I picked them up at South Acton, we did a group thing in front of a roaring fire (it was in our fireplace -- the fire, not the group thing), and then went to dinner at the closer of the two Thai places. Then I took them to the 8:00 train back to Boston,which was really the 8:27, thanks to the generic "inclement weather" excuse.

But was that everything? Nope. With Beff leaving early and the prospect of the slop storm last Sunday, I finally extracted another buttstick, although I freely admit that nobody called it a buttstick except Ken Ueno. But let me rewind a few weeks -- all the way back to when I still thought Facebook was cool (I was so young and naive....).

Marilyn, flush with her success in my piano concerto (that modifying clause has nothing to do with what will follow...), posted on my Facebook wall asking if I knew any piano pieces that used only one note. Not just one pitch class used in several octaves, but one note. She had been asked this by a student, apparently one trying to get a really easy dissertation topic. I said I knew none, but she should ask Frank Oteri (also known as Franco Terry) and Ken Ueno. Ken said he knew of none, but Davy should write a one-note etude. I replied "I don't go there", Ken said, "sounds like a buttstick!" and I replied, "I don't go there". So during this most recent slop storm I decided to go there. So I wrote a substantial one note etude on Sunday and Monday -- see yellow "Etude 82" link to the left -- and sent it to Marilyn and Ken with a dedication to them both. Marilyn said she'd try to play it this spring, and Ken said he'd give it to his students to analyze. I mentioned that it was interesting that he said I extracted a buttstick to write this piece, and now he wanted his students to analyze it -- and I left open what the root word of "analyze" is.

There's also been plenty of listening with headphones to the performance recording of my piano concerto. Apparently I like it. And the most common comment is that the first three minutes are masterfully paced. Aw shucks, t'weren't nuthin'. Actually I got that comment twice. Other comments that I got only once include "which way is the bathroom?" and "are you going to eat the rest of that sandwich?"

Oh yes, and after a little while I got Michael Lipsey's permission to post my Flip Video Ultra-recorded performances at his Brandeis colloquium of two of the three hand drums pieces I wrote for him. They look very cool. They sound better. Because it is what it is.

The Christmas tree still sucks water (while some people I know suck eggs), and it's dropping needles now. Beff has wrapped a whole MESS o' presents for the many siblings who are scheduled to make appearances on Christmas day. Plus she put together the usual collection of random giftiness for my own siblings. My brother's package arrived, and it's the usual Dakin Farms (in Vergennes, Vermont) foodiness. Nothing from my sister yet. But they BOTH got chatter stones, and I used some in my piano concerto, and what it is, too.

Also the bills arrived, finally, for all the work MD&W did in the summer -- the new kitchen window, painting the bulkhead door, taking away the old shed, building a ramp for the new shed, and so forth and so on. And the balance for the BMOP CD was the amount you see in the first paragraph -- all that money had already been raised and was just sitting in an account earning diddly, and finally I paid the piper. And the conductor. So now I get to resume work on my Phillis Levin Songs, which is important because finishing it involves a payday. Not the candy bar, but some negotiable currency that can be used in exchange for goods and services. Also I'm told that Merkin Hall got a payday from the NEA so that they can commission me to write for their "classical players play jazz" series. More when details are finalized. Oh yes -- and sometime in the next two summers I'll go to the Civitella Raineri foundation in Italy for five weeks.Schedule not yet known, and it will be a break in my self-imposed moratorium on colony hopping.

Other things upcoming -- Christmas (the goose is getting fat), Wiemann siblings visit, and way on down the line, Sex Songs in Philadelphia. And classes ramp back up the same day Sex Songs is premiered. I love excuses not to teach. One of these days I'm going to use "I've got a hole in my heart. Can't teach." That was funnier before I typed it. Okay, it wasn't. Also, a clipper moving through tonight, dropping 1 to 3 inches. Of snow, they say.

Another thing to look forward to: next installment will be the YEAR IN PICTURES installment. Happy happy joy joy.

I haven't taken too many pictures in the last FortnightPlusOne (c), so they are kind of redundant. At least they were taken at different times, owing to various lawas of time and space. We begin with the obligatory cute cat pictures, continue to the Christmas tree at night, and continue to the gazebo by day, then during the last slop storm (SHINY snow!) and this morning. Gentle readers, do let me know if you need to see pictures of cats using the litter box. Bye.

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DECEMBER 31. Breakfast today was an egg and cheese and fake-bacon (Morningside Farms) and cheese sandwich, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was stir fry chicken. Lunch yesterday was Chef Boy-ar-Dee spaghetti and meatballs for me and Progresso chicken pot pie soup for Beff (we ran out of drip cans, so we sacrificed ourselves). TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 20.5 and 52.7. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS of all things, the "Match Game" theme song. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS a couple of shops at Whole Foods, like about $140 and $170, and that's about all I can think of. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: During the year or year and a half I was in the Boy Scouts, our troop went on a winter jamboree somewhere in Winooski. There was much snow, and we spent the whole day going from place to place accomplishing assigned tasks -- the only one I remember is transmitting a message using semaphore flags. Our lunches were packed for us by our parents and my mother made me a ham sandwich. Unbelievably, the older scouts told me that bringing a ham sandwich was illegal, and I was forced to go into a forested area to eat, by myself. I was of course livid (livid la vida loca) about this stupid rule, but my mother thought it was hilarious to be excoriated for "illegal ham". THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Biffle-baffle. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF Snow and shoveling snow. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS egg and cheese sandwiches, various stripes of pickles. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK how to renew a passport. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 7 . REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy spent a lot of Christmas Day sitting in a paper bag near the Christmas tree. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 13. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I have two small old white ex-scars on my right arm from hitting the wood stove when we lived in Spencer, Massachusetts. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Twelve is the new thirteen. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 11,017. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.99 and $2.98 at Cumberland Farms. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a stale macaroon that nobody wanted at Christmas dinner, a number '7' pool ball, a pair of mismatched chopsticks, the chord that was poorly voice-led to.

The last update was a Fortnightly Plus One one, but since the copyright on that term is already taken (apparently by Estonians), this one is a dozen days after the last one. Or, if I recall correctly, in Italian una dozzina di giorni (c). This will be the only DozzinaDiGiorni (c) update, since I don't feel like actually filling out the copyright form again.

And as usual, our top headlines are weather related. It's been about three years since I regularly tossed around the phrase "Them What Make The Weather an Inexact Science", then abbreviated to Them What Make (c), since for the last three years they've been rather good, even in this weirdly weathered part of the world. But the last three weeks they have pretty much sucked big ones. Big, hairy, bulbous ones with festering mold. For you see, you may remember that the last time I updated (DozzinaDiGiorni (c) ago), a little clipper was about to pass by and we expected a dusting. Well, six inches of dust, as it turned out. This made for more than two feet of snow on the ground out here, and there was so much of it that the sidewalk plows couldn't plow -- all the driveways along the sidewalks had four- and five-foot piles of snow on them, rather daunting for a little sidewalk plow that looks a little like a rock-burrowing machine from a science fiction movie.

So for the week before Christmas, our walks downtown happened almost exclusively on the streets. Which of course was not all that safe for all concerned. But it was exercise. And during that week before Christmas, Beff had her juries to attend and meetings to go to, and a slight bit of transfer of power. We are BOTH on our respective faculty senates, but Beff hasn't figured out the invisibility ray for whenever someone asks for volunteers. As President Pro Tem of her senate, she has plenty of meetings to go to in January and February, which will definitely make Jack a Dull Boy. And don't call me Shirley. So she got back the Friday before Christmas. At that time, with our six-foot high pile of snow bordering the driveway and the back yard and all the big snowdrifts making it hard to see traffic when coming out of the driveway -- there was a big rainstorm and suddenly high temperatures forecast for the Sunday before Christmas. Great to get rid of snow, not so great with all the snow on roofs and so on, which had accumulated significant ice dams (there were big long icicles extending from the roof and crawling down the side of the house onto all our north, south, and east-facing windows -- a syndrome observed on nearly every house between here and downtown), and with all that snow and all that rain coming, it behooved me to get out the snow rake, rake the garage and mud room roofs, and (sigh) get out onto the side porch (flat) roof and shovel. And I did, Oscar, I did.

Now having a slate roof like we do (replacement cost: $80,000, but not till about the year 2050), typically snow slides off it in big chunks, fairly soon after the snowstorms, making big WHOOMP sounds when it warms up. The south-facing roof did so by the Sunday before Christmas. The other roofs, though, not facing the sun, took their sweet time -- and two nights after Christmas, while it was dark and above freezing, we were treated with big huge whoomps on the north-facing roof. Joy of joys. So to get back to the original story -- on that Sunday, with a high of 48 forecast, it only got up to 38 during the day, then went down to 35 at dark. Then it started to rain, and the temp went straight up to 52 at 11 at night! And lucky us, the basement did not flood.

But back to Them What Make. After a week's respite from the snow, and warmer temperatures, and some actual sunshine, the forecast for last night was snow showers. Then suddenly yesterday morning on the weather page we encountered HEAVY SNOW WARNING and WINTER STORM WATCH. Crap. Practically in real time the forecast for last night and this morning went from trace to an inch to 2-4 inches to 4-6 inches to 5-9 incheas and then to 3-5 inches. This morning we got up and shoveled some heavy wet snow. Amount: about an inch and a half. But HEAVY. And WET. Hence the term "heavy wet snow". As I type this there is no longer a Winter Storm Watch for tomorrow, but more snow forecast, amounting to 2-4 inches. More shoveling for us. Of course since both Beff and I are here in Maynard for vacation, we take our daily walks, normally the long one along the Assabet bridge by the nature preserve, and the part along the old railroad tracks has been excitingly slippery. And on one of our walks, we noticed that there is now a pothole in the driveway near the bottom. Sigh. But -- finally enough snow melted so that I could avail myself of some Public Sand. And I did!

So in addition to being aggravated with Them What make -- we had Christmas. Beff's sister and nephew got here the day before, and as usual, brought a big pile of food, much of it junk, and much of it usurping what would normally be called "counter space". On Christmas day itself, Beff's three brothers came together, one of them with a huge aluminum cooler of beer -- which, as it turned out, was redundant. Presents were exchanged, and some large-denomination bills substituted as actual gifts here and there, and I got an ANALOG thermometer (I think I'll install it on the gazebo in the spring). And Beff's sister (whom we will call "Ann" because that is her name) cooked a roast beef with potatoes, we all ate too much, and then the day was over. Ann and her son Jack went to England on the 27th for a vacation and are expected back tomorrow night. With British stuff in hand.

And also on the 27th, Beff repacked all the Christmas ornaments and stuff, and I dragged the tree -- poor old tree -- out the front door into the discard pile near where we put the raked leaves. Doing it in a foot and a half of snow is pretty durn tiring if you ask me, and yes, I know you didn't. So with the holidays finally over, we both got down to work on those compositional things that have been on hold for so long. And the third of maybe five or six Phillis Levin settings -- begun at Yaddo in June -- was finally finished, after kicking the butt of me for so long. Immediately I started work on the fourth one, called "In Praise of Particles". See the "On Time" yellow link on the left for that one. Both are, as they say in the biz, appallingly difficult.

So "Sex Songs" is coming up in Philadelphia, and I will be staying in a hotel for it. And missing my first two days of classes (three if you count NEC, and who wouldn't?). It turns out that Network for New Music is being presented as an event of the Philadelphia Orchestra, so there are multifarious references to the event online. And I'll be getting there Monday, a week before MLK Day, and coming back Thursday of that week. That weekend Beff has to stay in Bangor (President Pro Tem, and a concert), so she will be bringing the cats with her to Maine. Oh joy on that. And meanwhile, the Sex Songs had been finished in early 2005, at which time I e-mailed and wrote to the estate of Edna St. Vincent Millay requesting rights for the Millay poem I set. It only very recently occurred to me that they never responded. So with Stacy's help (she's set a lot of Millay for chorus), I actually called the literary executor to fax a request and got the executor herself -- who asked me to send the request by snail mail, and quite soon I got a letter granting the rights. And Peters thus could take the songs -- since they already own the rights to one of the four Sex Songs (The Gardener).

I also took the opportunity to send Etudes Book VIII (they use Roman numerals as if I were writing Super Bowls -- what can I say?), so it was a print-a-thon here and a post-office-a-thon as well. And hey, during one of my walks to the post office I decided to get my fecal matter together, get a passport renewal application, and truck 200 feet further to CVS to get passport photos taken. Mostly because my passport expires July 8, at which time I may just be in Italy. And I may just not.

So ... tonight's dinner is Florentine chicken from Whole Foods. Beat that! I have begun work on "In Praise of Particles" and have chosen another poem for after that, and have the overall texture envisioned (or enimagined), so I have plenty to keep me busy until my sojourn Philadelphiawards. I will, today, be setting the word "jit" for the first time in my life. If it is, indeed, a word.

So since this is a last day of the year posting, I'll do what everybody else does, and recap my year in greatly abridged fashion.

JAN spent New Years Day in Borth with Martler and Cora and Beff. Took train to Glasgow, saw stuff, ate stuff. Took train to London, saw stuff, had great Chinese food. Came back. Wrote "Clave" for Geoff, etude 76. Started teaching semester.

FEB spent vacation in Bangor with Beff and cats while the pantry was converted to a half bath; they also replaced basement windows. Conversion took until March. New fridge with ice maker! Bought lots of kitchen stuff for Bangor house at Target, since Beff doesn't cook so much as heat up.

MAR met Adam Marks to hear him and video him doing "Not", corresponded with Rick Moody (who wrote the words) about it. Adam did it in Paris along with Absofunkinlutely and Rick's Mood.

APRIL had 10-day Passover vacation and strange late winter weather, snow covering the crocuses, etc. Took several hikes in the woods nearby. Wrote three etudes (Ecco Eco, Upon Reflection, Narcissitude), for Corey Hamm and Mike Kirkendoll during vacation. Took down the big wooden fence encircling the backyard and tossed the pieces in leaf-discardville. Finished teaching season.

MAY went to MacDowell on the 4th, returned several times to Brandeis for various stuff, including Eric Chasalow's oratorio -- whose conductor made a point of telling me he wanted to do TEN OF A KIND one day. At MacDowell, wrote three movements of "Cantina" for wind ensemble. Auditioned 8- to 14-year-olds for Anna Schuleit's Landlines for me to mentor, chose Karissa Vincent. Bought Flip Video. Posted a bunch of etude movies on UToob, and 14 post-dinner Mary Worths from MacDowell. Back porch floor was replaced.

JUNE went to Yaddo, finished Cantina (needed to write a March). Swatted 300 flies. Wrote etude 80, Fireworks. Started Phillis Levin songs, finished two. Drove from Yaddo to MacDowell, first session with Karissa. Drove back.

JULY drove to Vermont for July 4, first time in Vermont place with Beff. Back to Yaddo, started "On Time". Back home, new shed was installed. Made several trips to New Hampshire to mentor Karissa.

AUGUST spent at summer place in Vermont. Wrote ten bars, but no more, of "On Time". Entertained Carolyn and Big Mike (the ka-ching twins of old) and Ken and Hillary and Gusty and others. Took daily bike rides on nearby rail trail. Went to Landlines at MacDowell on our wedding anniversary. While we are gone the kitchen window gets replaced, the bulkhead gets painted, and a ramp to the shed starts getting built. Started fall semester.

SEPTEMBER teaching overload at Brandeis, three, no, two students at NEC. Very heavy schedule, lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of grading. Gazebo arrives, and we use it. Sleep half the night in it a few times. Wrote etude 81, Kai'n Variation, on a theme by Kai Schumacher, at his request. Went to NYC for MacDowell reunion and horn concerto performance.

OCTOBER more teaching, double overload, etc. Midst avalanche of species counterpoint grading one Tuesday, experience major burnout. Sigh. Slow recovery aided and abetted by piano concerto rehearsals which begin at the end of the month.

NOVEMBER more teaching. Piano concerto premiere, five curtain calls. Go to Chicago for Thanksgiving with Stacy and Joe. See Amy. Use iPod Touch a lot. Rake, rake, rake, rake. Fantasize about cutting down the apple tree, which dropped eight barrels of apples that became rotten. Sony camera damaged by ice tea spill, new one purchased.

DECEMBER semester over. "On Time" finished. More to come. Record amount of December snowfall, lots of shoveling and snow trudging. Gazebo becomes the idee fixe of the winter's photographic story. Wrote etude 82 on one note (F This) and dedicated to Marilyn Nonken and Ken Ueno (or, to Ken and the Non-Ken).

And for tonight, Beff has secured a bottle of sparkling rose for us to ring in the New Year. Every December 31 around 7 or 8 I get a fax from Klaus in Duesseldorf wishing me a happy new year, adding "we have it and you don't". Tomorrow, we begin an even-numbered year for the first time in about 730 days. Because we deserve it. I doubt we will stay up to ring in the Eastern Standard Time New Year, but we might make it to the Canary Islands.

And now the Year in Pictures. The successive months go left-right-left-right except for December, which is under November. JAN Martler in London posing with a statue. FEB the pantry after it's been knocked about, and pre-half bath. MAR a bit of the Assabet after a freak mid-month snowstorm. APR the old fence now no longer a fence. MAY my MacDowell studio. JUN me holding the key to the Tower studio at Yaddo. JUL the new shed going up in the back yard. AUG a sunset in Vermont -- there were many gorgeous one. SEPT Beff in the just-installed gazebo. OCT foliage reflected in the new kitchen window. NOV Marilyn Nonken practicing before the piano concerto recording session in Worcester. DEC the backyard in the too much snow we've had this month.

I would say Happy New Year, but I'm not that guy. So Buon Anno.

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2008

JANUARY 9. Breakfast today was rice link sausages with 2% cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was a hot and sour soup made from a powdered mix. Dinner last night was Progresso turkey noodle soup. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE -1.3 and 62.4 (possibly the largest differential in the history of this update). MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS slow movement of the Rakowski piano concerto. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST NINE DAYS the cost of a passport, $67, lunch at Not Your Average Joe's in Lexington, $47, copying at Staples, $86. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I played basketball, on teams, from fifth grade to part of my tenth grade year. In elementary school, especially seventh and eighth grade, the coach gave me the nickname "Rake". Apparently he'd had a college roommate named John Rakowski whom he called Rake, and this was what we call transference. I was normally the starting center(!) because I could jump well, and for maybe a month I had a good hook shot. Band and drama, plus the fact that the same coach from elementary school was now coaching in high school, and thus I was getting called "Rake", pulled me out of basketball into less remunerative pursuits. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sarroyalage. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF the way TV news covered the Iowa caucuses and New Hampshire primary. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS pitted cajun olives, and we're back on Inko's. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the passport backlog no longer exists. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 4 . REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Compositions, Bio. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: with the warm weather and the chaise lounge mattresses on the side porch, the cats have been having a ball. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST NINE DAYS: 11. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE As Beff often notes to friends, there are always at least four kinds of pickles, all in significant quantities, in the house. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Global warming is more than a sometime thing. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 11,019. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.05 in Acton. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a prime number that can be drawn only with straight lines, the squeaky sound a shopping cart makes after it's been outdoors for a while, the negative space in a work of art, a pet rock.

Only nine days since the last update, AND I'm doing it later in the day (it's already dark, but who's counting?), so something must be up. Or, as Josh Skaller always used to say, "Up?" Or as Jason Uechi is about to say, "Josh, why did you always say, 'Up?'" Yes, something is up, for you see, I have finished a piece that's been biting my butt for more than six months now. And I did make mention of this piece in the last update, and that seems so long ago now in the history of the piece. Arrr! It was last year!

But first, some details and stuff. We did manage to stay up -- well, technically, we stayed awake -- until midnight on New Year's eve, though we went bedwards a little shy of 2008. Though all our European friends were already firmly ensconced in 2008. We heard fireworks around 12:10 am, and that prompted the not-unexpected comment from me: "Hmm. Fireworks." Then we spent New Years Day aching for pierogis and salty soup and so on ... yes, the Lee Hyla New Years Day bash was not happening! At least not in Boston, but possibly in Chicago, where he lives now. Past New Years Day parties of his I remember for having a motley cast of characters -- not least a composer of cabaret songs who played us as best he could to reveal the names and contact information of performers that would be interested in them. And also at a New Years Day bash I discovered SMAK pickles. Of which I've been deprived now for three or four years, alas and alack. Are you following this? Are you taking notes?

The Them What Make saga continued around New Years Day, because as you may recall, Them What Make filled the airwaves with a Heavy Snow Warning and then a Winter Storm warning, the second of which was to coincide with Ann and Jack (my sister-in-law and nephew) returning from England. Those two dire storms each dumped an inch and a half at most. And Ann and Jack had no problem getting here at the end of New Years Day, in the dark. Pictures and little videos (we gave them my old Flip Video, for you see, I have a Flip Video Ultra now) were shown, and when they went back to Albany, we made them take the steak sauces and other counter space usurpers with them. And I had my kitchen back. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

And then by January 3 it was time to hit my stride. I had finished "On Time", the Phillis Levin setting that had tormented me for so long (if not having time to finish it qualifies as tormenting). And in the new year, I did two more settings to FINISH THE WHOLE PIECE (yippee and rastarattinfrattin!) -- an extremely fast scherzo setting of "In Praise of Particles" and a sort of flowing and long-term rising setting of "Promise". The reason for the long-term rise in register, you see, is to give palpability to the poem's central metaphor of planting a tree (which grows and gets higher -- get it?). One has to wonder if palpability is anything like Wessonality, and if anyone reading this is old enough to remember the old Wesson oil commercials that used the slogan, or even worse, if anyone has read this far into this sentence. I sure didn't.

So the piece was finished yesterday and I spent a lot of the day finalizing the poem order, writing the inside-the-score text, typing the poems and proofreading, and all. And of course I let Judy (who will sing them) and Phillis (who wrote the poems) know that the piece was finished. I gave the piece the unsurprising title "Phillis Levin Songs", a title that won't need much splainin. Or at least I hope it won't. See the yellow link to the left and below. Meanwhile, all the other links there are as they were, and what it is, too.

In evenings, during the rather cold weather of the first week of the new year, we watched all of the second season of EXTRAS and half of the first season, which we both thought was very funny. Funny enough that Beff ordered the complete series, including the more recent Christmas special, on DVD. Well, she pre-ordered it. We'll have it in due time. And while I've been cranking on songs, Beff has been writing a piece for alto sax and wind ensemble, to be titled "Sax and Spend". Yes, the title was one we came up with together after a long walk, etc., etc. that we took in downtown Lexington on Saturday, just for the heckofit.

There were a couple of days where not much work got done, though -- I took Big Mike into Boston for an appointment, but it turns out I got a full day's work done around that appointment. And then on the coldest day of the year BY FAR we went into Boston for an appointment, to see the new waterfront Institute of Contemporary Art, and to try the nearby "test kitchen" of Legal Seafoods, mainly because Beff got a Legal Seafoods gift certificate for Christmas. Of all things, I got fish and chips (how plebian). So the new ICA is gorgeous, and there's a hallway you pass through with a big panorama of the water and bits of the islands and East Boston. The collection itself is ... is ... shall we say incomplete. And it's weird that such a giant building devotes maybe a fifth of its size to displaying art.

The high for that day was 12, so walking around Boston, especially near the water, was something to be done as little as possible. So we got a CAB from our downtown appointment (it would have been a 12-minute walk), and the walk to the restaurant from the ICA was pretty short. And the walk to South Station after our (very early) dinner was quite taxing. Because you see, as I've been saying all along, it was really cold. We made the 5:40 Fitchburg train, which we took to West Concord where we'd parked.

Now I brought the iPod Touch on this trip, 'cause Beff had the idea of getting wireless and browsing during down time. And I actually answered e-mails in the restaurant, which (duh) had free wi-fi. Most of the e-mails I sent said something like "in a restaubant using ipod touch, tuping w one fingr, get bacj to yoi latr." In the "Tools" of the iPod, you can see all the wi-fi networks it detects (this is how you join a network to surf), and for some reason I got fascinated on the train just watching the list of available networks change rapidly as the train moved. Incidentally, the "Free Wi-Fi" that the train apparently gives you did not work.

Iowa and New Hampshire happened, and we watched some of the political coverage, and for the first time in years actually had something of a conversation about politics. Of course we're not into any of the Republicans (we are especially repulsed by Romney), but one of us ends up being for Obama, one of us for Clinton. I'll not say right now who likes which. One of us would say Clinton feels entitled and is too beholden to special interests to make any real difference, one of us would say Obama gives a good speech but he's an empty suit with not enough experience to know how to back up his ideas. While one would also say Obama is an extremely inspirational speaker who is attracting new voters in droves and one would say Clinton may not give a great stump speech but she knows how to get things done. So we let it stand at that. Always stay away from politics when the idea is to have a pleasant conversation.

And then -- Them What Make got this part right -- it got really warm here, into the 60s, right on schedule, as Them What Make had been predicting for many days. The snow has been melting pretty fast, and all the roofs are currently free of snow (even the gazebo!), and large patches of back yard are now bare. Of course, it's still a foot deep in the shadier places. But the January thaw thing has been good for morale here.

Beff is in Bangor for three or four days, expected back in the dark tomorrow. Rehearsals, etc., and making sure the much snow in Bangor (when we got an inch and a half, they got a foot, and when we got another inch and a half they got about half a foot) is manageable and isn't making the house fall down. So of course the Maynard place is slowly becoming a pigsty, as is its wont. Only other thing to report is that my new passport already arrived -- it took only a week from when I mailed the application for me to get my new one. So that backlog of passports thing you may have read about -- old news.

So a while ago -- last spring, I think -- when Beff's dad's condo got sold and they had to empty it, Beff rented a van and brought a bunch of furniture her brother Jim wanted for his place in Nantucket. Some plush chairs have been clogging up space in the side porch for quite a while, plus a small table and some other chairs have been in the attic. Today Jim finally came and took them off our hands and -- it's really sunny on the side porch now! And we're also storing the chaise lounges from the gazebo (on their sides) there along with the cushions, which are now near the outside door to the side porch, which gets direct sun in the afternoon and ... Sunny really likes sleeping there now. And I took a nice 4-minute nap there, too, shortly after the sun came out today. Of course it's going to get progressively colder, and there is some snow forecast right for when I plan to drive to Philadelphia (I'm going to drive to Philadelphia). I may be staying with Hayes and Susan in Bronxville the night before if Them What Make are actually right.

After Jim left, I went to Staples to get piano concerto copies made, and to Trader Joe's for tasty delights. And both yesterday and today I did a lot of walking in the outdoors. For you see, it was warm.

So --- exactly a week from today, SEX SONGS is premiered in Philly. This would supply the meta-narrative for why I am going there. There are afternoon rehearsals on Monday and Tuesday, and the concert is Wednesday. I drive back on Thursday. I am supposed to teach both Wednesday and Thursday, as school begins around then, but I've got that covered. I like it when that happens. Anyway, Soozie is singing, Jan Krzywicki (buy a vowel!) is conducting, and Network for New Music is performing. Soon I'll see how it's going.

Meanwhile, Marilyn (the non-Ken) is doing the one-note etude as an encore on her two mid-February shows (she's already done that intense performer questioning about extremely specific things thing about the score), and she's also doing a piece of Beff's in the actual program. I may not be at either, but Beff will be at at least one -- at which time, by the way, she'll meet with our accountant. Who will have another big job for him this year.

And then, and then .... well, school will start to devour my time and eat away at my soul, and it'll get a lot colder, but at least the days will be getting longer, and the sun will get higher in the sky, and the crocuses will come out in about 65 days and I'll take pictures and put the Adirondack chairs out and it'll snow on them and I'll take pictures and that will all melt and I'll put the picnic table and chairs out and the chaise lounges into the gazebo and I'll take pictures of that and I'll get spring fever big time but not able to act on it because our Passover vacation is so late this year, and I'll go to Dallas for some of it and perfect the art of the run-on sentence.

This week's pictures include the cats enjoying the new configuration of the side porch, the 3 mechanical birds we have next to the front door (if you turn them on, they chirp when you walk by. what will they think of next?), a big hunk o' snow fixin' to drop wholesale off the roof by the dormer, the local dam about 5 days ago, a picture taken this afternoon in the back yard showing bits of yard becoming bare, and a picture of the Assabet taken today showing a reflection of the sky on a bunch of melted Assabet ice (which some people call "water"). Yowza.

Call me Martler

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JANUARY 21. Breakfast today was rice link sausages with 2% cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner was hot and sour soup made from a packet. Lunch was a small Flatbread Pizza, "Ionian Awakening". TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 9.9 and 52.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the fourth of Rakowski's Sex Songs. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST NINE DAYS hotel in Philadelphia, four days, $570. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE:The first piece I wrote (as detailed in various bios in various other places) was a 7-minute amalgam of all the band music I'd played in all-State and all-New England. I wrote it in five or six days during my February vacation in my junior year of high school (1975). It was written to win the Vermont all-State composition contest, and it lost. I didn't want the judges to think it was my first piece, so I gave it an opus number of 3 (I continued with opus numbers into the first semester of college, and made it to 30). My Opus 4 was for soprano and band, was called "Pain" and specified a chord to repeat 147 times, each time with the soprano singing the word "Ouch" on a high G (the chord was A-flat major 13 sharp 11, if I recall). I copied the parts to Opus 3 while on the bus for an exchange concert trip with a high school in Ottawa, and on June 1, 1975 it was my first public performance. I conducted, and sometimes I got redundant -- while conducting a four pattern I also occasionally mouthed the words "one, two, three four". There were two twelve-note chords in the piece, which happened consecutively, moving down by half step, in the middle of a big tutti melody. And also as detailed in other places, the third clarinetists -- every one of them -- were drunk. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sklunk. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF not watching The Daily Show; New England weather; political commentary; hyperbole about the New England Patriots. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS a wide variety of picklage, fizzy citrus drinks. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the Kimmel Center in Philadelphia. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 1.73 . REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Compositions, Bio, Home, Reviews 4. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: they're in Maine! and Sunny spends most of the day under the bedcovers or staring at the stove. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWELVE DAYS: 8. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I often clap with one hand. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: The word "abbreviation" doesn't have so many letters. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 11,020. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.97 in New Jersey, $2.97 in New Jersey, and $3.12 at the Mobil station in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the ash part of the end of a cigarette butt that's about to fall off, ten ways to flatten your stomach, the little dab of goat cheese one of the party guests didn't eat, a flashlight stuck in a sewer grate.

So I was talking to Martler yesterday -- I was in Massachusetts (still am) and he was in England (still is), and he told me he'd just had a big premiere -- his piano concerto, with him as soloist, with the local orchestra. And so I said, "you only had ONE premiere this week?"

It turns out that last week I joined Jennifer Higdon (a surpassingly nice person) in the multiple premieres club. This won't happen again for some time, unless each piano etude counts as a separate premiere. Actually, now that I think of it -- March 1 and 2, it's Cantina and Clave, not in that order. My c-word week. But I digress. And I'm afraid I'm going to have to continue to do so.

Last time I reported here, I said I had just finished a big piece. I was wrong. Not about it being big, but about finishing it. While I was out of town (more on that to come), I started thinking about the first line of another Phillis Levin poem called "Letter to the Snow", which is simply, "Why aren't you here?" For some reason, the contour of one of the lines of my first atonal piece (or contextually tonal, as it were) for voice and piano came to mind. It was a setting of Marge Piercy's "Quiet Fog" and the line was "Why am I happy?" Four notes going down, and one going up, for the last syllable. I replicated that contour in my mind for the Phillis Levin line, and when I got back, I did a very sparse setting of Phillis's poem. This jacked up the duration of the set to 19 minutes, and the page count to 57. Then I had to decide where to put it in the performance order, and I put it fifth, just after the wacky song "In Praise of Particles." Felicitously, Particles ends on a sustained D for the soprano, and Letter to the Snow begins unaccompanied on that same D. Really, you had to be there. See the green "The Quiet Fog" link for the performance of this piece of 1976 juvenilia. The Phillis Levin songs link is updated to its current version.

Now there's some shop talk for you.

And since the last update, the cats have been carted, with Beff, to Maine. The reason for that was my trip to Philadelphia (details coming up) and the unavailability of cat sitters. On the day Beff went to Maine with them -- Sunday morning the 13th, we did our usual thing of closing off the living room so the cats wouldn't settle themselves under the couch, but now they know when we do that they're going to be in a cat carrier for a while. So Cammy hid under the bed upstairs, and Sunny positioned himself inside the pump organ. Sigh, I had to take all the stuff off it, move it out, and lift it up so Beff could get him out. But they made it to Maine, they stare at the stove a lot, and they're coming back to Massachusetts on Friday.

And on Saturday the 12th, the Maynard Door and Window people came by to price out some new storm windows for the master bedroom and the mail/fax alcove downstairs. Indeed, downstairs there are three narrow windows that were hermetically sealed and painted shut by some clueless previous owner, and last August and September Beff was noticing how stuffy it always got in that part of the house. So we're gonna replace the windows. Turns out it's $167.70 per window, installation included, and there are three of them. And two in the master bedroom. Do the math.

My plan for Philadelphia was to drive there on Monday the 14th, go to rehearsals on the 14th and 15th and the performance on the 16th, and drive back the 17th. It was just my luck that a sloppy snowstorm got predicted for the evening of the 13th and morning of the 14th, so I up and called Hayes to see if I could drive to Bronxville on Sunday, stay overnight, and drive to Philly from there on Monday. He said okay. But then Them What Make put in a Winter Storm Watch for Bronxville, too (4-6 inches), so I up and drove all the way to Philadelphia on Sunday, making my hotel reservation while on Route 290 just east of Worcester. With the extra day in a hotel, and even with my AAA discount, the hotel and parking (only $10 a night!) exceeded my reimbursement by about 20 bucks.

And then of course, the storm brought only rain to Philly and virtually nothing to Bronxville.

So I left at about 11:25 am on Sunday and arrived in Philly around 4:15 or 4:25. I used the Garmin GPS thing to get me to the hotel, and it was a little comical that even after I took its turning suggestions it kept saying "recalculating" ... and the shape of the path I drove from the Benjamin Franklin Bridge to the hotel resembled the outline of that digital Aqua Teen Hunger Force character. But I made it, I parked -- it was my first time in Central City in Philadelphia since 1980 -- and found a lovely pub nearby with 21 beers on tap where I watched the Giants-Colts game. The pub also advertised that it had the BEST WINGS IN PHILLY, which I tried -- the wings were not separated (they were three-segmented) but they were good. I would put them in the top 75 percent of all the wings I've ever had. The hotel had iffy wi-fi, but it worked, so I could do my e-mail, and I could inform my theory class that I would miss the first two (they were covered) and in which room we were meeting and where they could get the syllabus.

The big event was Susan Narucki singing the Sex Songs I wrote for her during the Year of Great Excitement at Brandeis (I was definitely medicated) getting their premiere with Network for New Music, and Jan Krzywicki (buy a vowel!) conducting. Soozie had alerted me to the fact that they were starting before the time that they'd told me, so I nonchalantly got into the auditorium in the Kimmel Center -- with fantastic acoustics -- and heard some music I'd never heard before (duh, but I wroted it) and a velvety smooth clarinet sound that was amazing. I commented on the velvety smooth clarinet sound and apparently I made an impression. The ensemble worked on ensemble and balance, and it took a bit to get the somewhat ambitious instrumental writing soft enough so Soozie could be expressive, but they did. And when they got to the last song -- a rock and roll, Jerry Lee Lewis inspired one, they ran it at quarter 120 and worked on it, and then tried it up to tempo -- quarter 160-168. And it smoked. And it turned out to have be-bop in it, too.

After the rehearsal, I went with Soozie and Jan and Susan Nowicki -- Jan's wife AND the pianist in my piece -- to Jan and Susan's house for dinner, stopping at Whole Paycheck along the way for provisions. I played with their cats a bit, showed my pictures on my iPod Touch, and had an amazing spicy chicken with penne that Soozie cooked. Jan brought out some wine, and brought out some wine, and brought out some wine, so it became an interesting evening. Then I was brought to a commuter train that took me back into the city, about seven blocks from my hotel, and off to bed I went.

For Toozdy the rehearsal was at the Settlement Music School about 1.3 miles away, so I left early and found it, and ate at a restaurant nearby and had a salmon fillet sandwich that wasn't very good. Rebecca, of Rhode Island fame, was at the school just before the rehearsal was to start -- she is from Reading and was on a trip to the old country -- and she sat in for that afternoon's rehearsal. The group worked more, and it started to sound amazing, and I brought my Edirol and captured the dress rehearsal as best I could given the mike placement on a chair. See "HTR Dress" link to the left for the dress rehearsal of the last, zany song, and "SS 1 Dress" for the Millay setting that begins the set. So after the rehearsal I walked back to the hotel, checked my Massachusetts messages, and there was one from a Philadelphia artist I know from MacDowell. I called her back, and we set aside Wednesday morning to get together. Meanwhile, I went back to the pub and this time got the sausage sandwich special and asked for extra wing sauce, because it's what I do.

And this Philadelphia artist? Emily Brown, who's been on the "Home" page all this time because her names both have five letters. We went to the Art Museum, to her place nearby, and then she had to teach, and her husband drove me to a gallery where she currently has some really nice work on display. And I walked back to my hotel, having Chinese lunch on the way.

The concert then happened that evening, and I even wore a tie. I traded some chuckles with Jennifer Higdon, who had a set of four songs on the concert, and also with Ricky Belcastro, who studied with me at Brandeis and now works for the Philadelphia Orchestra. And it turned out the person who took care of my comps not only knew Rebecca (of Rhode Island fame, also at the concert), but had sat in on one of my classes when she was looking at colleges. There were a whole bunch of songs by local composers set to texts by local poets on the concert, and all of them were good. The two slow songs in my set sounded amazing, and the tempi of the fast ones came out a little on the slow side. I'll see how good my memory was when I get the recording. Afterwards it was me and Ricky and Jan and Susan and Soozie at a local bar for munchies and beer, and Soozie asked them to put on Bravo on the TV so we could catch the end of Project Runway. What, Ricky has STILL not been eliminated?

Then I drove home. Left the hotel at 6, used the Garmin to get me from the Ben Franklin Bridge to the NJ Turnpike (it's not straightforward at all, trust me -- 676 to 30 to 70 to 295 to 38 to the Turnpike. Wow) and the ride home was eventless, save some slow traffic on the Garden State Parkway. Tappan Zee Bridge was easy. And I couldn't help noticing that after all the screaming about Winter Storms that Them What Make had been doing that I didn't see any snow until I passed through Wallingford, Connecticut. Admittedly, it piled up rather quickly after, and it had been a heavy, sticky mess here that had melted and frozen a few times while I was gone. I had been plowed and shoveled out, but obessive me got out a shovel and edited a bit -- especially that little bit of schmutz left behind at the top of the driveway that was benign on Monday and hard as a rock on Thursday. The snow had been so heavy and wet that four giant branches had broken off a pine tree in the back yard, and I had to cart them off into discard land, and the shrub next to the shed, normally straight up, looked like it was bowing in submission, in every direction at once (see picture below). And as I look out the computer room window now, I see that little bit of backyard that always clears first starting to clear again.

Meanwhile, I had a second premiere, and it was also surpassingly good. I had to go into Brandeis on Friday to hear Dan Stepner and Sally Pinkas play my "Pied-a-Terre" from 1999, and it was the the premiere. They sounded fantastic, and the piece is really hard -- including fast unison writing, etc. And the piece is in three connected parts: Prelude, Fugue, Presto. I remember at the time Ross Bauer had said I should add a fourth part, "Changio". Rim shot. I was pleased to be no longer in my fugue period (Ten of a Kind and Dream Symphony have fugues, too), and you're probably expecting a joke to follow that. Okay, then -- is Massachusetts a fugue state?

But wait, there's more. Friday was a bizzy, bizzy day because I wrote ALL of that Phillis Levin poem setting AND I entered it into Finale. It was practically artist colony speed. ALSO, Jim Olesen was interested in doing a choral piece that I'd written in 1976 (other than functional stuff, it's my only choral music) and wondered if I had a better copy than the one I lent him maybe 5 years ago. So on Friday night, after getting that score from my Brandeis mailbox, I entered THAT into Finale, too -- see the "Sonnet 22" link on the left. So I been busy.

Saturday night's concert was extremely good, and my piece sounded even better. There was a piece from the 22-year old Harold Shapero that was also very good, and the 88-year old Harold Shapero was there to soak it all in. And the second half was all Faure.

And now it's MLK Day and if possible I plan to spend it all in my bathrobe. Just because it seems like the right thing to do. Upcoming is the BMOP concert on Friday, so I won't be home when the cats arrive. And I have to remember how to teach phrases, cadence, and period for theory this week. Also upcoming -- not for quite some time -- is my other big trip, end of February, and the Marines were in contact about the particulars for that. And here come four weeks of teaching, and then already a vacation. This weekend -- a two-afternoon affair -- is calculate the taxes weekend. Always both fun and complicated. Well, one of those.

I didn't bring my camera to Philadelphia, but I did bring the Flip Video, so I have some movie stills to show from the rehearsal in the Kimmel Center last Monday. First it's me looking wild-headed, Soozie making a point (she was listing what she was going to buy to make dinner), Susan Nowicki, Jan looking crazed, the whole ensemble in rehearsal, and that shrub bowing in every direction at once. Bye.

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FEBRUARY 3. Breakfast today was egg and cheese sandwiches with facon (a conflation of "fake" and "bacon") with potato pancakes, orange juice and coffee; lunch was Trader Joe's Moo-Shi things; dinner last night was grilled tuna, corn, and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 8.8 and 46.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the third movement of the Rakowski piano concerto. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST NINE DAYS Beff's recent oral surgery, $460; down payment on replacement windows $419.25; emergency plumber visit for Bangor house, $550. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In seventh grade geography or history class (at least I think it was geography or history -- we all had to write term papers and mine was a big one about sleep) there was one project that was supposed to be some sort of presentation by groups within the class about Japan. For some reason I got into a group that thought presenting a comedy routine with cartoonish Japanese accents, imitating some stuff by Jethro on the Beverly Hillbillies would be the way to go with this assignment. So a dumb skit was put together, most of which I don't remember, but I do remember thinking we were in trouble when another group did a very serious presentation, with two students playing a Japanese couple, and other students reading facts about Japanese diet and demography. Then near the end of our stupid skit, I remember the teacher saying, exasperated, "What the hell is goin' on?" THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: slube (or the southern German variant, sloob) THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF The return of TMJ, Super Bowl hype, Super Tuesday hype, more than an octave between alto and tenor. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS half-pickles of all varieties, pickled tomatoes, Buffalo wing sauce modifying various benign tastes. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK crows and dark-eyed juncoes are still around. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 8 . REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Recordings, Home. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 1. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: they're back! and like to spend the sunny afternoons on the screened in porch. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWELVE DAYS: 3. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I won five "first place" blue ribbon/medals from the all-New England festival, and I still have them. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Everybody can be the King (or Queen) of wishful thinking. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,925. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.95 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the pile of newsprint we didn't use for this press run, an ice sculpture of an injured rabbit, a flashlight that was too big to bring with us to Europe, something pointy that begins with the letter "d".

Recently I have been pointing in every direction at once, and I'm not sure yet if that is a good thing. Or even if it is a thing. There's a certain sense in our part of the world that I could have done it seven times, but we won't know until the pictures come back from the One-Hour Photo place -- which we all know isn't as red as it seems. So the people that were looking at it (you know who you are) forgot to bring their pajamas, and when I counted them, they were fast asleep -- what cruel irony! Good thing the sock puppets were able to restore irony.

When last we visited this sorry little corner of this sorry little site that SOME people think is funny, I was about to begin (for me) the school semester, about a week into it. For you see, I had been in Philadelphia for the start of classes, enjoying myself, enjoying my two premieres that week, and I had yet to experience the bitter taste of working for a living. We all do, Oscar, we all do. So now I have reversed myself (which is not the same thing as turning myself inside out, but what if it were?) and done actual work for a living, and as is customary, I spent about twice as much time grading homework as I did teaching the stuff about which the homework was -- which is a good ratio, since in the last fall semester it was a larger ratio (or fraction. Go to your room). I got to the part of the year where I get to talk about PEDAL POINTS as one of the prominent non-harmonic tones, and, as I have done so many times in the past (or maybe twice), I pulled out the beginning of Prince's "1999" for pedal point in the bass, the Supremes's "Keep Me Hangin' On" for pedal point in the guitar, and -- everyone's favorite, soon to be one of yours, the opening of the K. 331 piano sonata with me playing the middle voice pedal E with my nose. The gesture of which was quite literally the gestation of "Schnozzage" -- and it's not often you get to read a sentence with TWO words that both begin with "gest". Surely I gest. But anyway, it becomes disheartening year after year when the pop references upon which you've counted for so long begin to fade in their effectiveness -- to wit, none of the students seemed to think "1999" was familiar. Furthermore, no one had heard of Carly Simon's "Anticipation", which I sang a bit of for the nonharmonic tone of EXACTLY THE SAME NAME (my counterpart in the other section had done the same thing, which just goes to show you). In a concerted effort to "show them", I downloaded the song from iTunes. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

In addition, I have my private teaching schedule set, and I have precisely the same number of students Mondays as I do on Wednesdays and Thursdays, the only difference being that on Mondays I am in Boston. I have also done some of the usual Brandeis stuff for this time of year, which has been speaking to prospective students, both graduate and undergraduate, and taking students to lunch who have not written any new music in the last week. Well, that only happened once, but I did get to have Buffalo wings for no reason (which is usually the only reason to have them).

So while the TMJ issue kind of faded during the vacation time and had become hardly an issue by the time I was in Philly, it was remarkable how when I came to Brandeis that Friday for Dan and Sally's rehearsal, it suddenly and forcefully piped in -- as if there was something in the air of Slosberg. About this I do not know, but I do know -- that Slosberg's climate control is pretty awful. Not only is my teaching room (and especially the room next to it) too hot in this coldest month of the year, my office averaged 80 degrees when I got into work, and by opening the window, running a fan, and keeping the door open, I was never able to get the temperature below 77. Don't you hate it when that happens?

So weather has not been a big, big issue in the last couple of weeks, though we did get a slop storm changing over to rain on Friday -- a half hour of sleet followed by a half hour of sleet mixed with rain, followed by five or six hours of rain. Beff would have driven back on Friday if it had not also been an ice storm up Mainewards, but instead she came back on Saturday (yesterday), making her time in Maynard a mere 24-1/2 hours, since she had to get back today for a rehearsal and to do grading. So we took the opportunities, such as they were, for a few nice long walks, since the weather was conducive for it.

However, speaking of weather -- that storm of heavy wetness in the snow department that caused me to leave for Philly a day early seems to have made its mark around here. Several other fallen limbs, especially pine limbs, were spyed on our big walk yesterday, and before Beff got in yesterday I noticed that one of the very large branches of a hydrangia in the driveway was bent over and pretty much broken -- so sigh, I got out the big saw from the basement and neatly sawed it off to put it out of its (and my) misery, pulling it out to the discard pile way out back. While doing that, I got flashbacks of all the barrels of rotten, smelly apples Beff and I had to take care of during raking season -- I had actually entertained the thought of getting tree removal specialists in to cut the tree down -- and I emaciated the tree. Which is simply to say, I cut down all the mid-sized branches I could reach without a ladder, and carted them, too, off to the discard pile. I remember that the last time I trimmed that tree, the following year it yielded only four apples. My hope is for a repeat of that in the fecundity department. And while I'm thinking of it, what do I have to do to get the quince bush to produce more quince?

I did not write any music since the last update, but I DID take notice that it's still fairly light outside at 5 pm, which is a non sequitur. Besides going to Staples to get a bunch of Piano Concerto scores made, I used our lovely big HP printer to make a full-sized score of Phillis Levin Songs, which I actually bound myself, using strategy, trickery, and a binding machine. And two binding coils, since they don't come in the 11-inch size at Staples. And I sent that score off to Judy Bettina so she can start working on the songs.

I also had a performance tape arrive, but not of one of the recently (or ever) reported performances here. Alexander Lane got (from me) Carson Cooman's transcription for organ of my piano piece SARA and performed it last June, getting me the recording this week. I think it is cool and weird and very different, and the sort of thing that I don't get too often. See the green "Elegy" link on the left.

And I got my paperwork from the Civitella Ranieri Foundation -- a residency near Umbertide, Italy -- where I will spend June 18 to July 29, the last week of it with Beff, too. We had to sign waivers, and that we did, and mail them back to the Foundation. Apparently they hold you to working on what you described in your application, and since I didn't know whether I'd be going this summer or next (as the applications are for a 2-year residency period), I just said I'd write piano etudes. So .. that's what I'm a-doin'.

And this week, "Powerhouse Pianists", a CD made by Stephen Gosling and Blair McMillen for the American Modern Ensemble, is officially released; Stephen Gosling playing my "E-Machines" is on it, and I'm curious, since I have never heard him play it (but everyone who has told me they thought the piece was fantastic -- which means the performance must have been amazing). Not curious enough to buy it, however -- since it turns out I'm the only composer on the CD whose name didn't manage to get onto the cover. But go to "Recordings" and click on the last CD image to see its listing on .

The real big event of the last 10 or 11 days was last weekend. As is usual, it was about a two-day affair to put together all our receipts for the year, separate them into related piles, put expenses into the correct lists, and calculate all the expenses that are deductible. So Saturday and Sunday were "go figure" weekend, which ended with me putting all the calculated amounts into a printout to bring to our accountant -- which is being done by Beff this year, since she's going into NYC for a performance anyway in about three weeks. Less, actually. MWA ha ha. We have a very good accountant and a very complicated return, and the number of numbers is -- legion. And one has noticed that W-2s and 1099s are, on average, arriving later and later every year. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

The Super Bowl happens later today, and there's nothing I can tell you about it that hasn't been reported in excess and repeatedly, so I merely pass on that observation for the sake of history. And by the same token, since so much of the activity since the last update has been of the academic variety, there is no need to make this one go on as long as the last few. So here we are, about the embark on the paragraph that I use to preview upcoming attractions.

So this coming Friday I talk to the composition seminar at the Longy School (weather permitting), and Geoffy inaugurates his 2008 guest room schedule this Friday and Saturday. We are slated to do dinner with him Saturday night. The following week I believe I take over for Whit in his section twice, in return for him doing my section twice while I was in Philadelphia. Then the week after that is our first school vacation, and I'm going to use it as a hat, or at the very least, as a piece of spinach (the kind that doesn't come with screws). And after THAT week is the gonzo week of DC, North Carolina, and DC again. It kind of makes you want to go to the bathroom.

Of course there hasn't been much of which to take pictures this week, so I took some shots on our walks, and last night when the kitties were being needy in the kitchen. The first two pictures are taken from our front porch yesterday morning just as the morning light was coming in -- they are looking west down Great Road, and then northwest, more toward Summer Hill Road. The next shot is the emaciated apple tree, which has no control shot for comparison -- followed by the old train tracks over which we traversed this morning on our walk (the tracks were last used as train tracks in 1939). Then we have an Obama thing in front of a neighbor's house, and the kitties being needy. Bye.

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FEBRUARY 17 (Sunday). Breakfast today was egg and cheese sandwiches on toasted Italian bread, with facon with orange juice and coffee; lunch was Red Baron toaster oven mini-pizza; dinner last night was Vidalia onion chicken from Whole Foods, hash browns, and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 9.1 and 45.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Amy Winehouse singing "You Know I'm No Good" (it's playing on iTunes from the G5). LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST NINE DAYS 4 bags of stuff at Whole Foods, $156; toy piano (purchased last September but the charge just showed up recently) $289. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Thanks to an egregious book report assignment in American History my junior year in high school (we had to do three book reports on SERIOUS historical books during the school year that weren't even connected with the curriculum), I learned a cool way of doing something artistically that kept me busy for many months (some of those months being when I had measles and wasted down to 100 pounds). But lemme splain. For the December book report, I read a book about Churchill, and to make my report cover impressive, I used everything semi-artistic I had at my disposal: clear acetate sheets, quill pens, model paint, and model paintbrushes. I stuck the acetate over the book cover, did a line drawing tracing of Churchill from the cover, then painted on the other side with the model paint. In succeeding months I did the same thing with lots of images. And damned if it didn't keep me off the streets. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: persklet (in northen Italy, perskletta; in Alsace-Lorraine, persclette). THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF wacky weather swings, Congressional hearings. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS cough drops (though they're not, specifically speaking, gastronomic), jalapeno-stuffed olives, homemade hot sauce. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK an amazing multiplicity of potholes everywhere -- though not so many in Maynard; and Numberwang (look it up on YouTube). THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: shinty-six . REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Bio. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy hems me in at night; Sunny is a little more vocal now when when craving cat treats. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 9. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE My blood type is A Positive. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Whatever you eat, somebody else pays for. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 10,976. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.93 at the station on the corner of Routes 27 and 111. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE an old macaroon shaped like a troglodyte, a dust mote too large to fit through the eye of a needle, pens that we bought to celebrate the Patriots victory in the Super Bowl now practically being given away, a hard drive with too many damaged sectors to be useful.

While pining for gum, it makes sense not to put squirrels into the shredder; for you see, intoxication is making me waste (but not want). So when your lemons start gunning for childhood, give them a bone -- you'll be glad you did. And if anybody gives you any guff, start spelling things for them. That will show them that you mean business.

In the two intervening weeks since the last update, not a whole heck of a lot has happened, but I can say that teaching went as it always does, though there was a little more of it -- on the 13th and 14th, I took the 10:00 sections of Theory 1 to make up for Whit taking my sections when I was in Philadelphia. I pretended I'd forgotten all the students' names, and called them all "George". Meanwhile, my teaching at NEC has been back at the full load, meaning my time for lunch is a scant 40 minutes or so -- which I always have a Conor Larkin's because if I have it at the bar, it comes out fast. Which is not exactly how I meant to say that.

Tomorrow is President's Day, which is a rare day I have off at both institutions. I had offered to come in and give lessons at NEC anyway, weather permitting, and as it turns out -- it does not. Following in the slopfest tradition that has characterized this miserable little old winter, a big rainstorm and rather elevated temperatures are forecast for tonight and tomorrow -- bearing in mind, of course that it was Them What Make that made same forecasts.

And while we speak of these forecasts. On Tuesday it was doubtful, according to Them What Make, that I'd make it in to do my teaching on Wednesday. Snow followed by sleet followed by freezing rain, finally capped off by all rain in the afternoon, was forecast for Tuesday night into Wednesday. Indeed, in the WINTER STORM WARNING text was this gem: "travel before noon on Wednesday is not recommended". I arose at 5:30 on Wednesday morning and shoveled the two walks -- the temp was 29, but it was raining, and there were 3 inches of snow, very heavy, on the ground. I didn't bother with the driveway, which would have been very time consuming, so I just exited straight out at 6:15, and the roads were not too bad. It rained at various intensities during the day, and the drive back home was very easy, and the plow guys had been by. Though in the slopfest, they had left some schmutz behind that I had to go out and clear. And it was very heavy, and it was still raining hard, and I got soaked. That night the temperatures got into the upper 20s, and driving to work on Thursday morning was actually harder -- I had a bit of a delay starting up at a stoplight due to black ice.

Now on the previous weekend we had also had some heavy wet snow. The snow weighted down the pine branches by the gazebo enough that I went out with a saw and sawed them off -- thus hopefully ending for a while the sweeping of the gazebo's roof by pine branches every time there's a heavy wet snow. Use your imagination,dear reader, about how much of that snow went onto me while I was accomplishing this trimmy operation.

By Sunday, a very strong cold front was sweeping through, and the temperatures dropped pretty quickly. But it was mostly sunny, with an occasional snow shower briefly passing through. There was a Brandeis New Music concert at 7 that night, and the roads were clear, so we were ready to go. Then a big, big, big, big snow squall pushed through at about 6 for about 10 minutes, gave us big wind, and a marvelously icy coating on all the roads. Indeed, we saw emergency vehicles in the squall's wake, and knew it'd be a bad drive to Brandeis. So we stayed home. Good call -- those there say that on Route 117 around the hill in Waltham, cars could not make it up, and also 2 cars were stuck at the entrance to Brandeis not able to get up that measly hill. So home we stayed, and awkward and mannered was our spoken syntax. The next morning was fine and that's when Beff drove back to Bangor, leaving very early. And, as is often the case, one stretch of Route 95 between Waterville and Newport was slippery and glazed from snow squalls, and at one point the draft from a passing truck caused Beff to do a full 360 -- luckily depositing her on the shoulder, facing the correct direction. That's not something I want to do, though I did do that once while driving from Boston to Vermont with Martler -- this happened near Concord, New Hampshire, and gave us the idea to stay in Concord, New Hampshire overnight.

And today, like two weeks ago, Beff left early on Sunday (today) for various obligations at U Maine, leaving me here to do my own work. Which, Friday night, most of yesterday, and all of this morning, was comprised of extracting the parts for my Phillis Levin songs, printing the movements as PDFs, combining the PDFs into single part files, and duplex printing them. I also did a full sized tabloid full score, double sided. And bound them all. Now they, and a W-9, are ready to go to Collage, who commissioned the piece. Thus providing a dramatic double bar to THAT project -- at least until the players start complaining about how hard their parts are, or about the 0.13% of the parts with mistakes.

And so it's Brandeis vacation. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Still, I had to go in Friday for a search committee meeting, and have to go in on Tuesday for another meeting (it does me no good to send the dictionary definition of "vacation" to those who call these meetings). LAST February vacation I spent in Maine while our pantry was being converted into a half bath, so some room's anniversary is coming right up! And LAST February vacation marked our first significant snow after a mostly snowless December and January. I am hoping this year is the mirror inversion, especially given that we've had about four feet of snow already this time.

And I may get to start work on an etude (I've got one in the wings, but without a clue what to do in it).

Geoffy was here last weekend for one of his usual gigs, and as usual it was good to see him and to make breakfast for him. He took us to dinner at the Quarterdeck, so that was a nice thing, too. Meanwhile, he's doing a recital at the East Carolina festival where I'll be in a week and a half, though I have to leave before the actual concert -- so he gave an entertaining reading of "Clave", the most recent etude I wrote for him, which will have its premiere the night I can't be there. I didn't ask him to do "Moody's Blues", since I thought it would be nice for the piano still to be in one piece when he left.

A week ago Friday I was called on to do a colloquium at the Longy School of Music in Cambridge for their composition seminar, and I was given the 4:30 to 6:00 slot. So I whipped up a new lecture about me: my piano concerto and the six (count 'em, six) etudes associated with Marilyn that became the underpinning of the concerto's music. So with a little detail about my collaborative and professional relationship with Marilyn, anecdotes, and basic stories about the six etudes, how they all get used in the concerto, plus the story of the concerto's "lion music" and the story of the toy piano, I filled up an hour and 25 minutes, leaving just five minutes for questions, most of them the predictable ones (such as "how did you find the distinction between taking an idea and making it short and making the same idea long" -- answer being "it's different"). Now I know it's a suitable 90-minute lecture. Thankfully, nobody asked me what I was doing at 4:25 pm on April 3, 1981. Because that would have been silly.

This morning along with making an early breakfast, the drama of the stove handles came fully to the forefront again. The burner handles that came with the stove (probably from 1940 or 1950) are long gone, and a while ago, Beff found some nice substitute handles on line. Three of them fit on the four burners, but one of them has too narrow an aperture for those handles to fit on. So for that one we've been using our jerryrig of the last 8 years: get generic stove handles -- the handles and the part that connects on the burner handle -- superglue two of the connector pieces together (because one of them doesn't go deep enough in), and hope for the best. Today that jerryrig finally stopped working -- the handle failed to "catch" to turn it off, and I had to use pliers. Substitute handles were procured, and they also did not "catch". So back I went to the hardware store for more superglue (true story: when 3 years ago is the last time you've used your superglue, it's hardened and unuasable), made another jerryrig, and for the time being we seem okay. Though the two handles on the right take a lot of effort to turn. Sigh, I hope this doesn't mean we have to buy a new stove in the near future... cause if it did, I'd be steamed.

Another thing of great delight in the past few months has been our relationship with Citibank. More specifically our former relationship with Citibank. For you see, when I started at Columbia in 1989 we got a checking account and a Mastercard with Citibank, which was two blocks south of our apartment. The checking account was closed 10 years ago, but we kept the credit card. 4 years ago or so I even discovered that we'd accumulated ThankYou Rewards points, and we used them to get a color laser printer and a regular laser printer, cost $600, for $150. In November, Beff tried to use her Citicard for a hotel and was denied. After a long, twisted conversation with customer service, whatever "block" was on the card was removed, or so they said. Several weeks later we heard that our oil company was unable to charge the card our monthly budget amount. So I called and cancelled the card -- two strikes was enough. Understandably, I was forwarded to what might be called a "retention specialist" who tried to ply me with --- extra future reward points!!! After I pointed out that there wasn't much point to getting extra points given that Citibank won't even approve any new charges ... we finished the cancellation.

Fast forward a month and a half. A bill arrives! From the Citibank credit card! They had approved a $169 charge by "Connections", which was something of which I'd never heard. Lividly, I called to get the charge taken off the account. Suitably, they blamed me: there's an 800 number next to the charge on the bill, right? Call that number. So I did, and was immediately asked for my account number. I explained (in a voice about 8 decibels louder than my customary voice) that I had never heard of "Connections", had not authorized any charge, and so I didn't know what my account number was. The operator knew my address and phone number (!), and promised the charge would be lifted within three days. Which, as I found out, was.

And so given that Citibank blocked real charges we tried to make, and then a month after we had CANCELLED THE CARD, authorized a charge we didn't authorize ... well, when I read on the NY Times website that Citibank posted a huge quarterly loss, I smiled a little. Currently, I am working up to laughing maniacally.

In the meantime -- there have been all these new recordings coming in, especially in the past week, so I am pleased to make them available to you, dear reader -- see the green links to the left and above. The organ arrangement of "Sara" called "Elegy", as played by Alexander Lane, is still present. Newly arrived -- the performance recording of Sex Songs in Philadelphia -- though the 2nd one (The Gardener) is still my dress rehearsal recording. A few insurmountable glitches in the performance of that one. Then you can see a link to the January 19 premiere of my violin and piano piece Pied a Terre (from 1999) with Dan Stepner and Sally Pinkas. That performance is hot, hot, HOT --- though there are certainly things formally in it that I think were not done as well as they could have -- for instance, the ending does not work. But, for a Prelude, Fugue and Presto, it's not bad, and there's some pretty wacky stuff there in the fast music. I think, or hope, I may be done with writing fugues, but you never know.

And so the only time in the past two weeks that I took any pictures was a week ago yesterday. First, there's the icicles on the shrubs in the front yard from all the falling snowmelt from the roof, and then an icicle on the gazebo about to detach. Then there's the Assabet, downtown, near flood stage, leaving "scrubbles" on the vegetation. And then there's a hand mark and a glove on the bridge over the Assabet downtown that Beff asked me to take pictures of for a forthcoming video project. I complied. Bye.

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MARCH 7 (Friday). Breakfast today was egg and cheese sandwiches with bacon. orange juice and coffee; lunch was Trader Joe's penne arabbiata; dinner last night was salmon teriyaki from Whole Foods, sauteed broccoli, and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 4.1 and 59.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "March" from Cantina. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST NINE DAYS stuff at Whole Foods, $142; stuff at BJ's, $97; Alamo car rental $398 (to be reimbursed); ride to the airport, $120; tank of gas for the morceau de merde car I rented, $43. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: It has been documented elsewhere that the band piece I wrote in 1975 was performed by my high school band on June 1, 1975, I conducted, and the third clarinetists were drunk. On the same concert, I had two other roles. #1 I was in a pick-up barbershop quartet that was actually six people, and I had learned and memorized the top part (it's the second part, the "alto", that has the melody, or cantus firmus, this being an arrangement of 'Yes Sir, That's My Baby' -- two of us were on the top part). Earlier, on Senior Day in the gymnasium, the quartet was supposed to sing, but the two basses didn't show up; so in the performance I improvised the bass line. At this June 1 event, the baritone had been tossed from the chorus for inattendance, so I had to sightread it in the concert -- which is why in the picture from the concert I seemed to be having less fun. #2 I ALSO played the trombone solo part in an Arthur Pryor arrangement of theme and variations on The Blue Bells of Scotland. Only Don Swin, also in the audience, was cognizant of what a not bangup job I did, and I got a standing O. No such standing O awaited me after the performance of my piece. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: grueley (obviously the umlaut has been removed over centuries of use; the Alsacian version of the word it crelu, and the Dutch have no word for the concept, which just goes to show you). THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF frozen precip, driving in a straight line, not driving in a straight line, not flying in a straight line, people who are out of line. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS spicy olives, pickles of various types. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK actually, a discovery spanning several weeks as the snow cover rises and falls: a piece of pavement, formerly in the driveway, now sticking straight up and emerging from the plowed snow like a shark fin; also song sparrow songs, and, according to Beff, robins in the back yard after it rains. White-breasted nuthatches heard this morning. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 8. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Home. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: The cats love the chaise lounge mattresses being stored on the porch, which they get to use more and more often as it warms up. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 9. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE my best standing broad jump was in eighth grade -- eight feet five and a half inches. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: "Snow" is no longer a four-letter word. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 11,018. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.32 outside Greenville, SC; $3.17 somewhere in Virginia; $3.01 in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the part of a blown head gasket you can still use, a pine cone too small to use in an art project, a salt shaker with a small leak in it, a brochure that went out of date before it was even printed.

Chrome is the finish of choice when mother-of-pearl shovels have been found to cause mass panic. If cats could talk, they wouldn't have to scratch the surface, so why do we make dogs eat meat? Probably it's because when I saw the thunderstorm coming, I made some small drawings of birds as if they could read music (with their eyes closed). Twice they said they'd use the hamburger helper, but without love there isn't a point on the end of the stick.

Eighteen days since the last update, and plenty seems to have happened, while at the same time just as much seems not to have happened. But I suppose I should splain. The timeline was a bit like this:

From Feb. 18 to 25, right after the last update, I was on winter break.

Feb. 26 I taught both at Brandeis and NEC.

Feb. 27 to March 3 I was out of town.

March 4 on I am back and teaching normally -- to a point.

So during that academic vacation, my colleagues decided to make it impossible for any of us to do creative work, as we did two and a half days of meetings at Brandeis to go over graduate applications and start making our choices -- which were not finalized by the time we finished the third meeting. Boys and girls, can you say WORST VACATION EVER? I had actually started that week, Monday, President's Day by embarking on an 83rd etude. This one was requested by Nathanael May, with a very vague description of what he wanted (he liked undulating things and arpeggios, and what's the point of that sort of etude?). I spent all of that Monday cranking out 23 bars, contrasting some polyrhythms in the middle low register with arpeggiating gestures that "escaped" from the polyrhythms, and those arpeggios were very cool. It turned out the polyrhythms were sucking more and more rocks the more they went on. And then the flow was interrupted by them what made this the WORST VACATION EVER and the meetings they called DURING MY VACATION.

Returning, again, on Thursday to the piece, I wrote more, and got even sexier arpeggiating gestures out, but the low polyrhythms just didn't do it for me. So I terminated work on the etude, and did my usual purging gesture: I took out a yellow highlighter and wrote "FUCK" on both pages of the sketches. Ah, that's better. Have I mentioned WORST VACATION EVER, by the way?

Actually, that Tuesday began with a brief trip to the post office to mail the score and parts of my Phillis Levin songs to the manager of Collage. Which means I spent quite a bit of time over the previous weekend generating, then PDF-ing, then combining PDFs with Adobe Acrobat, then printing, then binding, the scores and parts. I began to lust after a proper binding machine that can do 11x17 scores easily (I want one I want one I want one I want one), perhaps the continuous coil type thing. That's a future purchase, I hope. But for now, I used two bindings on the big score. And off they went. Payday (and perhaps a $100,000 bar) coming soon. Then they won't laugh at me (burp).

Over that weekend, Beff was here, but of course not on vacation. She got here early that week, because she was driving to New York City, staying with Hayes and Susan, and was seeing our accountant Jonathan on Wednesday -- what fun that must have been for her, parking in an unfamiliar place, walking to an unfamiliar train station, and taking it in to New York. Well, as it turns out, she had a rollicking good time as far as I can tell, and she was there to hear Marilyn Nonken play her piano and video piece. My own "F This" was premiered at this concert, as an encore, and Hayes and Beff said it sounded like a tabla. Aw, man, and I haven't even heard it yet! (Marilyn just sent an e-mail asking if I could wait for the recording until she did it again perfectly, and I said Are You Nuts???)

On Wednesday, them what make were predicting "few snow showers" for us on Friday, and Beff and I and Big Mike (ka-ching!) were slated for dinner at the Quarterdeck Friday night so we could pass on a house key for him to take care of the cats while I was gone. Instead of a few snow showers, we got eight fluffy, powdery inches, so dinner was postponed to Saturday night. Not to mention, Friday was Beff's day to drive back from New York. She started out from Bronxville as early as possible, but of course between Bronxville and New Haven nobody plowed, plenty of cars fishtailed and just STOPPED, and Beff with her 4-wheel drive had to go around them. In a word, Beff's drive was ... horrible. But she made it in just as I was shoveling the driveway for her arrival. On Saturday morning after the storm was over, I had to shovel the walks, as the people we pay to do that ... didn't. They did do the driveway, though. So, dinner on Saturday, Beff back to Maine Sunday.

Classes then started up again, I taught theory at Brandeis and drove to NEC and saw my students there, came back, and packed for my six-day trip. The green suitcase I used was too big for how much stuff I had to bring, but I am okay with carrying air. So early I got to bed, and early I rose, and was picked up at 6:30 for my 9:00 flight to Reagan International Airport. While a-standin' and waitin' for the ride, I heard my first song sparrow of the season. This was apparently supposed to portend well, and you know, if you asked me to define "portend" I'd stammer a lot and then walk away. Then come back. Then walk away again, in every direction.

The timing of my flight was just a few hours before another storm, this one not a very snowy one, was to hit us. It was fine weather to get to the airport, and partly cloudy when I got onto the REALLY SMALL plane that Beff had booked for me (Canair CJ50, about 50 seats). I was booked in the last row (13a) but the plane was only a third full, so I moved further up, and got a great view the whole way of -- um, nothing. 20 minutes into the 100 minute flight, the turbulence kicked in, and 2 or 3 times there was the type of bump that makes the whole plane gasp (note to self: always confirm size of plane before buying a flight from here on in), and soon we landed, none the worse for wear. My suitcase came out very quickly (there were only five pieces of checked baggage for the whole flight), and I waited a long time for the shuttle to the car rental garage (as I was to find out only later, it was only a six-minute walk to it), getting my piece of crap silver colored Chevy something with 23 mpg and Alabama plates. At which time I followed directions to call the Marine Band ops people with a description of my car so that I could be let in to my rehearsal, which was to begin about 20 minutes after I made that call.

So I drove to the Marine barracks, getting egregiously lost once, and then getting momentarily trapped in a maze of one-ways nearby, but when I got there, the rehearsal was still going on, and I got to listen. The band had begun rehearsing the previous Thursday and had put recordings on line for me to hear,but hearing it live was much better -- not to mention, it was more together and hot-sounding. I had actually started by disliking my piece after hearing the first rehearsal, but ratcheted up to indifference and then a provisional like, and by now I was liking it more. After this rehearsal I was able to drive to the Colburn homestead and meet them all -- including Winnie, to whom the second movement was dedicated. She vibrated no less and no more than usual. That night Nancy made chili, we ate it, and we ate more of it, and I went to bed on a couch in the basement.

Wednesday Mike and I drove in tandem though a maze of Virginiana to the barracks for an early morning rehearsal -- where I also got to do e-mail and the like. It was another stunning rehearsal, and I got some Flip Video movies (of mallet percussion and brass section) for use in future orchestration classes. After rehearsal, I went back to Chez Colburn, got my stuff, and began the long drive to Greenville, North Carolina -- for you see, there I had six pieces on two concerts (five of them piano etudes played by Geoffy), and had been booked to give composition lessons to ECU (Eastern Carolina University) students at this festival put together yearly by Ed Jacobs. And what did I get out of it? Lots of driving in a straight line, and a free room at the Hilton for three nights. Plus, Ed kept paying for me at restaurants.

So I arrived in Greenville after making two wrong turns (US 64 east in Virginia and US 64 east in North Carolina appear not to be the same thing -- worse, they are 120 miles apart), including missing the turnoff for the NC US 64, I was settled in the Hilton, drove to meet Eddie at school, and he took me out for Buffalo wings and beer. After which I crashed rather than hearing a solo clarinet concert that had been scheduled downtown in a restaurant.

On Thursday I met with 5 of Eddie's students, heard Curt Macomber and Aleck Karis go through my violin and piano piece, had a nice sub, hung out in a restaurant, met Chris Dietz who was also at the festival and teaching composition lessons, and at the end of the day went out with Eddie and Chris for yet hotter Buffalo wings, and beer. That night there was an all-Messiaen concert which I decided to skip, and crashed at the hotel.

So on Friday there was just one student to see, a great colloquium by David Sanford, who had arrived the previous night, a very long lunch to have, this time with David and Eddie and eventually Chris Dietz, too, where David showed us his best Soul Train dancer moves. Then we went to a really weird New Music Camerata concert that included everything from solo tuba with singing into the instrument to a Benjamin Britten solo guitar piece that couldn't seem to find the ending (number of times I nodded off: 4) to a weird-ass piece for two tubas and marimba. In the interim, Geoffy arrived, and we bonded.

Then I gave a public talk -- the one that uses piano etudes as an upbeat to playing the piano concerto. At the same time, Geoffy was giving a piano master class. After we were both done, Geoffy played for me three of the etudes he was performing the next night for the Flip video ultra, and those have gone up onto YouTube (see yellow "Geoff" links up there to the left -- you'll see that they were, indeed, spantacular). Soon Eddie, David, Chris and I were to eat some rather mediocre -- actually, about two levels below mediocre -- Chinese food, which David paid for. So I owe him. David -- you 'n' me 'n' Beff, Northampton, soon! But no mediocre food! Or meaty ochra!

And then was the Speculum Musicae concert, which had some good music and of course good performances, and David's piece "Dogma 74" was killa! Afterward, an expensive reception with about six times as much food as was needed, various students asked me about grad programs, and then David, I, Chris and Geoff found ourselves in lobby of the the Hilton just after 11, with their bar closed, and we felt the need for a little alcoholic adjustment. The choice -- Hooters or Applebees. We chose Applebees, had two rounds, and then THEY closed, at midnight. And off I was to go, back to DC the next morning.

Driving north to DC from North Carolina is no more interesting than driving south from DC to North Carolina, but it turned out I stopped for lunch and gas at the SAME place I'd stopped for lunch on the way down -- spoo-oo-ooky. I got to Burke and the Colburn residence with plenty of time to spare, and meanwhile, the Marines were hosting an eastern division CBDNA conference (College Band Directors National Association). It was chilly-ish there (50) and sunny, but back in Maynard, there was snow and crappola falling -- Beff made it in the previous night from Maine before the precip started, but it was grody on Saturday, and she had a 5:00 plane to catch. She managed, meanwhile, to shovel the bottom part of the driveway of three heavy, wet inches, and left early for the airport -- meaning I was obliged to get her, in my crappola rental car, at Reagan airport at 7. SO, back to the main story -- we went in the Colburn van to downtown DC, left off Nancy and the kids for museum hopping (it was Nancy's birthday!) and we went to the barracks, where I was to speak for an hour to the CBDNA band directors. I came after a mock audition, and got about 20-25 directors, and Karl Jackson -- recording guy for the Marines -- had made me a CD of my piece's dress rehearsal in case I wanted to play any of my piece for the directors. Sweeet. (See green numbered CDR links to the left, which mean "Cantina Dress Rehearsal" and not "Compact Disc Recordable").

So I talked about my history of playing in band, writing for band, and how I don't understand the band world, and that talk may get put eventually onto the band's website (except for the part where I began my answer to "what's the first sort of things that go through your mind when you are getting ready to write for band?" with "Oh, shit..."), and played the last movement of Ten of a Kind and the first, MARCH, movement of Cantina (as it was already March). I liked Ten of a Kind better. Questions included things like "what's wrong with band from a composer's standpoint?" (answer: all the energy is concentrated in an octave and a half, and it's a chewy sound), "what software program do you use?" (answer: Finale) and "Do you sketch?" That last one threw me for a loop because I didn't know which of the many senses of the verb was actually meant. I said I don't write things down to come back to later because I like keeping them in my head and if they're still there a week later, they're worth using. Or something similarly pretentious. After all that, it was back to the Colburns, I drove to the airport and DIDN'T GET LOST, picked up Beff, and when we got back we had delivery pizza. For Nancy's birthday. An air mattress was aired up, and we slept.

SUNDAY morning featured a long walk around Burke Lake (which is in Burke, where the Colburns live), and Winnie pooped about every 25 feet (the walk was about two and a half miles...). After lunch snackies, it was time to get to Alexandria for the concert and sound check. There we met Phil Smith, the principal trumpetist of the New York Phil, just back from Korea, who was playing three pieces with the band, including Bugler's Holiday and a duet-solo with the principal trombonist. My piece was just before intermission, I said a few words (including something Beff thought was very funny), and people representing the Barlow Foundation were at the concert, whom I got to meet at intermission. There were maybe 1500 or 1700 people in the audience. Yes, it was a big turnout, the median age was 64, and the median scent was potpourri. I got asked to autograph a copy of a "Martian Counterpoint" CD, and there was a meet and greet afterwards, and some expected people -- the previous director among them -- were not to be found.

After all this, we were taken for dinner to a nice American grill (I got ribs), and were allowed to bed ourselves early. For you see, we were getting up at 4. Of course, me being me, I woke up every 25 minutes or so, checked my watch, and put my head back on the pillow where it belonged. Finally at 4 we got up and showered, drove to the airport, left off the rental car, WALKED to the terminal instead of waiting for the shuttle, got our boarding passes, went through security, and got on our 7:00 flight. This time it was a SMOOTH ride and we got great views of New York City and Providence, got in on time, and drove to Brandeis, where Beff left me off. I taught my theory class, interviewed a prospective grad student on the way to the 12:24 commuter train into Boston, and taught my 3 NEC students. Then I got to North Station, got on a train, and exited at South Acton at 6:08, where Beff picked me up -- for you see, it is now BEFF's vacation, and two weeks of it she gets. We had dinner, and went early to bed. I mean, duh.

So the rest of the week was spent normally, except for the weirdness of having Beff at home when I get back -- a positive element, indeed. Common chord modulation was the topic in theory, and pizza slices were the lunch of Wednesday. In the half hour between theory and my afternoon students on Thursday, we had our final admissions meeting, meaning our long national nightmare was over. And then I came home, sigh.

This morning we had the egg and cheese sammiches, and when we realized the only cat litter we had left was some Tidy Cat -- which I don't like because it sticks to Cammy, and he puts his butt near my head at night when he sleeps on the bed, and he smells like, well, like a litter box -- so we made a trip of it this morning. First to BJ's where we got limes, 80 pounds of Fresh Step cat litter, Campari tomatoes, two large things of hot sauce, 100 CD-Rs (Compact Disc Recordables, not Cantina Dress Rehearsals), and a pack of 16 scrubber sponges. On the way home was a fruitful trip to Whole Foods, where we got a bunch more "honest tea" in large containers, 4 salmon teriyaki steaks, blueberries, tofu, balsamic portabello salad, orange juice, Bubbie's pickles, and what have you, and home we came. Since then I've looked around the now mostly exposed back yard -- waiting for this year's first crocuses (the earliest pictures I have of crocuses here in years past is March 9), and was surprised to see that one of the backyard rhubarbs is already emerging (photographic evidence below). We JUST took our regular 2-1/2 mile walk, and I heard redwinged blackbirds and a robin, so spring is indeed springing. A bit. Despite the fact that Them What Make say it'll be cold again this weekend.

Upcoming: six more consecutive weeks of teaching (because the academic groundhog saw his shadow this week) before our Passover break. I am on a search committee for a Renaissance musicologist and will have plenty of stuff to go to for that, starting this Wednesday, not to mention yielding two of my classes (for a musicologist? Get outta town!) for the demo teaching of the candidates. Tomorrow night, Daylight Savings Time begins, which means it'll be dark on my drive to work again, but REALLY light on my drive back. Colloquium at Tufts on a day we're interviewing one of the candidates. And Beff is (mostly) at home for another week of vacation. Look for an update BELOW the pictures below for the date and time the first crocuses are discovered herein, once they are thus discovered.

Today's TEN pictures span the time from just after that vacation-week Friday storm to this afternoon. First, the gazebo after that eight-inch storm, just before I left for my trip. Next, Winnie. Then we see Mike's functional shoes -- informal and shiny-formal. Next the mallet players of the US Marine Band doing the hard mallet stuff in my piece (video still), the whole band ready to begin (I used a harp!), three members of Speculum (Curt, Aleck, Allen) warming up at ECU (video still), David Sanford showing his Soul Train moves (video still), that piece of pavement acting like a shark fin near the driveway, Sunny out by the asparagus, and (the red part) the rhubarb beginning to emerge. Bye.

Call me Martler

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MARCH 21 (Friday evening). Breakfast today was lite breakfast sausages with 2% cheese,orange juice and coffee. Lunch was miso soup, Tom Yum chicken soup, and salmon teriyaki. Dinner was two Boca sausages in hot dog buns with mustard, hot sauce, and jalapenos. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 18.5 and 52.9. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Carmina Burana with silly fake words (thanks, Danny). LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Mac Book Pro, precise amount unknown, new cushions for the Adirondack chairs, $99 (15% off at K-Mart). POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In the last music concert of my elementary school years (that would be eighth grade), Mr. Bernstein (the music teacher), Jim Hoy and I did a trio -- 2 Chicago tunes: Colour My World (yes, the European "u" is in "colour" in the actual title) and 25 or 6 to 4. Jim played drums, Mr. Bernstein the piano, and I played trombone. At this great distance (in time), I can't imagine it sounded like much but hey -- the big hit from the band's part of the concert was "Raindrops Keep Fallin' on my Head", so how could we have been worse? On the other hand -- the melody of "Colour My World" played on trombone .... eww. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: dorknop (ancient Icelandic, nobody knows what it used to mean, but there is a drawing of a bicycle next to the word in an ancient cave. The "k" is pronounced while breathing in). THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF hearing about Obama's pastor, hearing about McCain's spiritual advisor, below average temperatures. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS spicy olives, lemon/orange/grapeheads. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the crocuses, naturally, though they were less "discovered" than "observed". And they're on their tenth day out. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: maznalard (we don't know exactly how much it is, but a number with its own name must be really important). REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Bio. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: I removed a tick from Cammy's neck, in three stages (not "cute", but a factoid nonetheless) and Sunny's tail gets all puffy sometimes when he's outside. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: only 3! FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I once had a poem published in the St. Albans Daily Messenger. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Every time you turn on a flashlight, Davy gets a nickel. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 11,037. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.09 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard, $3.15 at the Shell station at the end of South Street in Waltham. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a crumb that just now fell off a Triscuit, a siren that sounds like it's being played backwards, a bright orange hoodie that magically appeared on one of the left-handed desks in Slosberg 212, the screw that holds together a pair of scissors.

Dates are better when they are not foolish. However, becoming one requires the suspension -- nay, the disposition -- nay, the supposition -- of disbelief. Even though the cats would have preferred mice to anything -- anything -- beginning with "f". Rock on.

The semester has ramped up to its intensest, yet smoothest, point, and it's all cruise control from here. As late readers of the last update would have discovered, the first crocus made an appearance on March 11, and they have spread slowly but surely around the yardage in back of the garage. In addition, the leaves of the first daffodils have gesprungen (in a manner of pretentious speaking), and last weekend while Beff was ending up her school vacation, on Friday, we put the back lawn into warm weather mode. This included bringing the little chaise lounges from the side porch onto the gazebo (this had to go through the kitchen, and I brought them out while wearing -- gasp! -- slippers), bringing the associated cushions, bringing Beff's work table onto the gazebo, bringing the Adirondack chairs and footrests from the shed into the yard, bringing out the picnic table and chairs from the basement into the yard, putting together and placing the hammock, and transferring the two bicycles from the basement into the shed. I also oiled the bikes and took a bike ride to Erickson's Dairy and back -- and boy are my legs out of shape. It got warm enough briefly last Saturday that Beff used the gazebo for reading and working (though she didn't seem to be able to get the internet on her computer), and I spent some time in the gazebo briefly while the house was being cleaned. Incidentally, we get the house cleaned by professionals every fourth week. They are called The Maids.

Meanwhile, Brandisian things continue at their fevered pitch, and the semester now seems to be flying by. Only four weeks of teaching left until the Passover break (and only three days of school after that), and it really feels like it just started. Until I stop and think just how many scores I've handed out this term to my theory students to illustrate various musical concepts. For the record, dear reader, these last two weeks were ALL ABOUT "other" modulatory techniques than common-chord, and a survey of musical forms. To that end, I delved into the slow movement of the Beethoven Op. 10 No. 3 and attacked it from many angles -- how crazy was young Beethoven? Doing common chord modulations from D minor to C major to A minor and cadencing -- and then a DIRECT modulation to F major, where he should have been modulating in the first place. That's nutty! What's more, there was a bunch of F major in the A minor section, always contradicted by D-sharps that turned it into the augmented sixth! That's nutty, too! And the D-sharps resolved a minor ninth higher!

And there was no NEC teaching this week, as they are on vacation. This gave me Monday afternoon free to do errands, shop, and feed Zoe the dog at Maynard Door and Window. This especially highlighted that I do only one hour at Brandeis on Mondays (teach 11-12), and everything else is just a light. And that free afternoon turned into a day and a half off -- so on Tuesday I got an oil change at Jeefy Loob, stopped in at Dunn Oil to ask if we were entitled to routine furnace maintenance by contract, and they sent someone at 3, did a bit of food shopping in West Concord, got some stuff at Staples, and did yard work. The yard work consisted of trying to gather up some of the soil deposited into clumps in the yard by the snow plowing service, picking up countless bits of pine branches blown off by various wind storms, and doing yet more MWA ha ha decimation of the apple tree -- it's down to two large branches going straight up now, and I may yet find the energy to MWA ha ha saw them off, too.

Beff, meanwhile, was in the second week of her two-week vacation, and she used Wednesday and Thursday -- two VERY FULL Brandeis days for me -- to go to Maine and do some beezy work that otherwise would have taken up the weekend. So Beff took her computer out to the gazebo and got a wi-fi signal but no internet -- meanwhile I got internet just fine with my iPod Touch. I decided to test the wi-fi with MY laptop, and when I got it out there, it was black -- and wouldn't start up. Because, dear reader, the battery had been drained for the last time and had no juice left in it. So it can only be used when plugged in. I tried my spare battery, but all that happened during startup was for the fan to come on really loud -- and the battery was hot, hot, HOT. So I tossed that one. As I was researching where to get another spare battery, Beff asked how old the laptop was -- I remembered that I got it with a Dinosaur Annex commission the summer after my sabbatical, which would have been '03 -- which also coincides with the dawn of Beff's video age, since I got Final Cut Express for 99 bucks as part of Apple's promotional deals that summer. So Beff resolved to get me a new laptop for my birfday (which is in June, by the way).

And now (as of right now) my new laptop is in Beff's office -- or the Beffice, as we never refer to it. Apparently I'll be computing up a storm, once I (sigh) update all my software. Good thing I haven't done any installs of my Finale 2008 yet ... alas, it doesn't have the Mass Mover any more, anyway. But I did purchase Microsoft Office 2008 Student and Home edition. And all that.

Meanwhile. Jim Ricci suddenly e-mailed that he had occasionally been capturing the text of these updates (he had asked me if I archived them, and I rhetorically asked what's the point of that) since the very beginning, and I've decided to continue the tradition. See the sky blue "News archive" link to the left, which will be updated every time I update this page. If I feel like it. Reading through some of the old posts, I was astonished at how very chipper I tended to seem during the Year of Great Excitement, despite how very depressed I was. And that I posted weekly! I noticed Jim didn't get the one where I simply posted "No more posts here until further notice" or the one from a few days later that began "I. Resigned. As. Chair." But enough of that. We're back in the future now, at least with regard to what is past. Are you with me?

There is not much to complain about with Them What Make lately. Flooding in the midwest, and a meteorologist in the newspaper saying it's a result of the jet stream "on steroids". Is illegal doping possible with the weather? What would be an appropriate penalty? I'm searching long and hard for a joke here, and I'm just not getting one ....

One thing that takes up very much beezy work and time at this time of year is the annual compiling and writing of my faculty activity report. It used to be that you got a Word document with the headings set up, and you typed the appropriate stuff below the headings, printed it, attached a CV, and gave it to the department administrator, who copied it and gave copies to the Chair and Dean. For the last two years there has been a fancy schmancy online program for doing your faculty report, with some of the answers -- courses taught, for instance, and committees on which you serve -- filled in automatically for you. And the reporting format for "Research" is mondo complicated, since first you click on "add publication", and you get about 20 radio buttons from which to choose what kind of research. The only ones germane to composers are "musical composition" and "sound recording" -- though now that I think of it, there may be a way here to report a performance, too. So once you choose which type of thing, you get an endless bunch of text boxes in which to enter stuff -- and it's very cumbersome. What's more, I tend to have to report the same piece twice -- once to report that I wrote it, and a second time, later, to denote that it has been published. And reporting performances -- it would be far too cumbersome to put them all in, so I cut and paste my list from this website into "Activities outside of Brandeis". Meanwhile, new compositions, etc., I have to explain in a separate space, because even though I have to enter for what instruments and how long pieces are for the research reporting, the activity report generated by this program and sent to the Dean, etc., doesn't insert any of that information. But anyway. It's due at the end of this month, and I am always remembering other things I did that I should report that I hadn't thought about or remembered to put down. So new stuff trickles in daily. One of these days I'll actually submit it like the good boy that I am.

In the middle of Beff's vacation, Beff and I went into Brandeis to hear Rachel's musical, which I had advised. It came off well, with a few especially good performances, and with Beff quoting the "I Didn't Do It" number on the way home -- and there was a long "I'd like to thank ..." session by Rachel after it was over. That means I got some tulips for the kitchen. And eventually, a DVD of the whole show. The only other thing we went in for was the grad composers concert last Saturday, which was, again, very entertaining and uplifting, and certainly about nothing but itself. And Ken and Hillary were there! And someone that I met at Northwestern! And, and ....

We also, on a lark, spent a few hours around lunch time that Friday in downtown Lexington. What the heck! Mostly so we could have lunch at Not Your Average Joe's, which we did. I had pizza, and Beff didn't.

Them What Make had said it would be very windy today. They were certainly right. It howled overnight, and this morning I went into Brandeis for John Aylward's dissertation defense. John is now Dr. Aylward, and well he should be. And by the way, the outside reader was John McDonald, who had good questions, and there were three members of the public who came as well. We ate at the Tree Top Thai restaurant afterwards and ... this is why I started with the weather ... on the way back I saw two large trees that had been blown down and were blocking part of Route 117. Wow. Now that's nutty.

We have been having a search for a musicologist with a Renaissance specialty, and I am on the search committee, and two of the candidates have had interviews already, so I've been getting a lot of free food. Another one comes Monday, and more in April. Then there won't be any more coming. Two of the candidates are going to teach my section of Theory 1, which puts me off the hook. Yes! Including this Monday, the day that WRITING MINUETS FOR STRING QUARTET is the topic at hand. It's going to be a weirdish week, to wit. Monday I teach the 10:00 section of theory (part of my payback for Whit Brown teaching my sections when I was in North Carolina and DC), watch the 11:00 section be taught, drive to NEC and teach, get driven to Tufts to do a colloquium, get driven back to NEC to drive myself home. Tuesday is a Tuesday. Wednesday I teach until about 1:30, drive to New York, listen to the 2nd of the Keys to the Future Piano Festival at Greenwich House (Amy D is playing four etudes as well as other stuff), drive back to Maynard. Thursday I teach my 10:00 student at 9, teach the 10:00 and 11:00 theory sections, and teach my 12:30 student but not the 1:30 student, who will be out of town. Friday -- I forget what I'm doing Friday. Maybe it will finally be warm enough for a gazebo nap.

Then, next thing you know, it's April. This time it's personal.

Incidentally, Danny Felsenfeld posted a link to a send-up of Carmina Burana on Felsenmusick. See the "Carmina" link up and to the left.

Today's pictures start with the cats enjoying the fact that as it gets warmer we occasionally open windows for them to do their cat thang; then we see Sunny on a piece of pavement dug up by the snowplow and frozen into the snowbank (this snowbank is now nearly gone, and the piece of pavement stacked next to the garage); one of our little fields of crocuses on Tuesday; Beff working in the gazebo; Beff speaking to her sister after a walk downtown; and a cool shadow made by a recycling receptacle I spied in downtown Lexington. Bye.

Jeasas

Dear Mummy

APRIL FOOL'S DAY. Breakfast today was lite breakfast sausages with 2% cheese,orange juice and coffee. Lunch was crackers with 2% milk cheese slices and kim chee. Dinner last night was chunky chicken soup. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 20.8 and 62.6. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Dave Stromes's minuet from 2002. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST WEEK AND A HALF Logitech Webcam Pro 9000 (or something like that), $78, two Maxtor half-terabyte drives, $258 plus tax, Microsfoft Office 2008 for Mac OS X, $129 for student/home edition. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In high school in the summers I played trombone in the St. Albans Citizens Band and the Enosburg Town Band, with rehearsals for the summer season beginning in late April or early May. Ed Loomis conducted the Citizens Band, and Sterling Weed the Enosburg Band. After one zippy runthrough of "Alexander's Ragtime Band," Maestro Weed remarked that no one could call this band old-fashioned! At which point I looked on my sheet music and found the copyright date of 1918. I played first or third trombone, depending on what was needed, usually third after I got the trombone with the F attachment. My favorite tune, only in the repertoire of the Citizens Band, was "Red's White and Blue March," which was written by "There were these two seagulls, Gertrude and Heathcliff" Red Skelton himself. Subsequently, and before I started to write my own music, I transcribed some of the incidental music from the Red Skelton Show, which was written by "There were these two seagulls, Gertrude and Heathcliff" Red Skelton himself. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: blaskin (origin obscure, but it's presumed the original Icelandic settlers brought it back to Norway and spit on it). THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF the school year not being over, them what make being slightly alarmist. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS kim chee, Bubbies pickles, celery sticks with hot sauce. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the iSight, and Skype. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: Numberwang. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Home, Lexicon. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They love going under the side porch now that we've unblocked it, and they spend outdoors time under the gazebo, too. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK AND A HALF: zero! FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I was briefly on my high school track team, and competed in the 100 yard dash in exactly one track meet. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Fossil is respelled fostle. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 11,061 (and a different number on the Mac Book Pro). WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.11 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard, $3.45 on the Merritt Parkway, $3.15 at the Shell station near Brandeis. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a bottle of Snapple before the Snapple and the label are put on it, a spent shotgun shell from 1976 recently dug up, a rock shaped like Elvis Presley's nose, a hundred doodads.

Merely ten days since the last update, and boy are my arms tired. It's April Fool's Day, and April is coming in like a griffin -- even though we know it's March that has animals -- and actual ones at that -- associated with its comings and goings. Since the last update, there has been much single-day driving, much use of technology and therefore transfer of files and installation of software, and plenty of doing stuff for which they pay me. Dear reader, you know who "they" are. So therefore, I expect you to tell me. NOW.

The weather has broken suddenly and decisively on the warm side (mid 60s as I type this), and I'm in and out while typing this update. Why? Because I am taking advantage of the gazebo (which is outside, where it is in the mid 60s as I type this) and lying down and napping and what have you, to indulge my spring fever (Doctor! Doctor! Can't you see I'm burning? Burning?). While at the same time checking e-mail (because wi-fi reaches the gazebo) on my iPod Touch, and marveling at how airy it is outside (airy = windy if you're not a Vermonter or a speeding locomotive). Indeed, this morning I went out without a jacket to get staples (milk, orange juice, hot and sour soup mix, chicken breasts, hamburger, celery sticks, tomatoes, in case you needed to know) and did some yard work (pulling old forsythia and various vines from the way back, moving yet another large fallen pine tree limb -- it's been a bad winter/spring for them) -- AND I did my Theory 1 grading, in the gazebo, which gives me the rest of the afternoon to do as I wish. MWA ha ha. And by the way, it's been a good day out to air the house.

But first the usual mundane stuff about teaching. My NEC students have slowed down a bit, which leaves more time for antics and/or discussions about other musical issues. Jeff is preparing for an orchestral reading session, so very particular types of stuff have been bandied about (what's it all about? Bandy!). Travis has an egregious deadline, so the occasional suggestions to make wholesale revisions were not to be made. And Miriam is thinking both in the present and the post-B.M. future. In Theory 1, we are now looking at Haydn minuets, as well as talking about minuetness, and all the homework, save the minuets themselves, for the entire term has now been passed out. I did my usual trick of showing Haydn using the Tristan chord in Op. 54 #2's minuet and trio, and I have yet to show the weirdness in one of the G major ones. MWA ha ha. I've given some analytical handouts that also ask students to identify how Haydn uses humor, and many don't get the idea of humor in music. So I've allowed them to parrot me (Brother, can you parrot dime?)

And so it goes. As far as how it goes goes, that's it.

The main event of the last ten days was last Wednesday, a day I made into extreme craziness. For you see, after finishing my teaching for the day at 1:04, I drove to New York City. Get outta town, that's nutty! Yes, it is. And even with a few accidents on the southbound lanes of the Hudson Parkway that slowed us down, I parked in Chelsea by 4:45. After which point I walked to the Christopher Street subway stop area -- it was 62 and sunny in New York and nothing remotely like that in Waltham -- and hung out a little while waiting to meet Gene Caprioglio -- THE MAN for us composers at CF Peters -- for dinner. We had dinner at Pennyfeathers, just a half block south of the subway, and I had salmon with my Bloody Maries. Peters paid, and I'm guessing I spent, on my own, a year's worth of print royalties (which I know because I just got my 2008 check). And then, and then, ... it was time for why I drove to New York in the first place (I don't usually drove 400 miles round trip just for bloody Maries and salmon) -- the Keys to the Future piano festival, Greenwich House, Concert 2.

Concert 2. Wow.

So there was Amy, in a piano practice room upstairs from the concert hall, and we said hi, and I introduced her to Gene. I got a freebie ticket, and a chair had been reserved for me, for DAVID RAKOWSKI COMPOSER. I was afraid to sit anywhere else. Good crowd, and the first pianist played Chet Biscardi's tango and failed to acknowledge Chet, who was right there in the audience. Stephen Gosling and Joe Rubenstein also played some hard stuff, and Amy did a foursome Davytude set along with a set of ragtime-like stuff by John Halle and Derek Bermel and John Musto and William Bolcom, among other -- all of it spectacularly. Amy even did "Plucking A" in my set, and had to do a little patter while an assistant did the thing where they hold down the sostenuto pedal with external hardware (in this case a Sharpie marker, I was told). Of the pieces not written by me, I liked best the Halle and Musto pieces, not least because both of their last names are five letters. Don Hagar, whose last name is also five letters, was there, but there was no time to hang. For you see, I had to get back to teach at Brandeis at 9 the next morning -- so after saying my hi's and bye's to John Halle, Derek Bermel, and Joe Rubenstein, and another send-off to Amy, I got on the subway, got to the parking garage, paid thirty bucks (why, I never) for my 5 hours of parking (why, I still never), and hightailed onto the West Side Highway (getting delayed by an accident at 125th Street and then a stalled car, also at 125th Street), and was in bed, after doing e-mail, by 1:30 am. Given how much sugar (five-flavor lifesavers) and caffeine (one-flavor coffee) I ingested to keep it together, I fell sleepwards remarkably quickly. And STILL woke up in advance of my 6:00 alarm. I DID do a full day of teaching (even filling in for Whit's Theory 1 section because he had filled in for me when I was in DC/North Carolina, etc.), and politely declined all requests for meetings later than my prescribed time of leaving. Because I'm worth it.

Meantime. Over the previous weekend I cracked open the new Mac Book Pro -- ooh, dual Intel something something, 250 gig hard drive, new trackpad controls that let you scroll, resize and rotate using two fingers, and blazingly fast. I spent some time importing my iPhoto library through the network (I didn't want to do the direct connect because the fan on the G5 iMac came on REALLY LOUD when I put it into external hard drive mode), and the format in which it arrived was a little screwy -- it doesn't scroll continuously, but by its own "events", and if you care, dear reader, you've come to the wrong place.

Since the computer has an iSight, plus software to use it, and Beff's MacBook Pro that she got from work does, too, we both installed Skype, tested it out by making a video call from the computer room to the dining room, and it worked fine. So much so that I looked at Staples for a good web cam, and all of them only said they worked with Windows. Ditto the web cams at Geek Boutique in Maynard. So Beff ordered one from amazon that said it could do a Mac, and it arrived, and I installed it in my office on my Brandeis computer, so we can now be Skypely from four locations or more (her two, and my two, duh). The connections at school are fast, so it's like TV -- but the network here in Maynard be slower, and some of the things Beff says get cut off or become static while her face freezes. So we talk a little more slowly. BUT NO LESS INFORMALLY. Yes, dear reader, we are informal Skype users.

Another longstanding narrative of the winter turning to spring got finished over the weekend, as I finished my decimation of our way-back yard apple tree. What once was tall and high (is that redundant? yes!) and producing wormy apples that dropped and rotted and attracted bees during raking season is now a modern sculpture with a handy-dandy cat seat. See pictures below. So that last bit of sawing was the hardest, of course, but it was quite satisfying, gratifying, and other things that rhyme (including cat, sat, and hat, and lucky and plucky). Now I plan to transform the ground around it, mossy because of all the shade ("under the shade of the apple tree" is in the lexicon not for nothin'), into a grassy, not at all mossy area. How? It may be tricky, but I've heard that planting grass seed can work wonders when growing grass is all or part of the intent of an activity. And you know me -- I'm all intents, and stuff.

And scarily (reaching into a dark corner of the only part of my technophobia that is still intact), the batteries on the Honeywell thermostat finally died -- two AA's that were installed in late February 2007 when the old mechanical thermostat was replaced. For a while now, pressing buttons to reset it has sometimes resulted in the display going blank and then coming back on. Well, on this day, it was cold outside (30) and I noticed by 11 that it was cold in the house. I went to the thermostat for some relief (which for some reason was being spelled R-O-L-A-I-D-Z), and saw that there was NO display. Hmmph. I finally had to figure out how to open in and get the batteries out, and some new ones in .... and by putting my fingers in the little -- what shall I call them -- finger holds -- I wrenched it, and dramatically so, off the wall, put in new batteries, and then de-wrenched it. The display came back, and for several minutes I saw "wait" under the temp setting. Finally, it cranked back up, and warmth returned. With coolth being vanquished, or sent into a distant video game.

Beff and I had been to Staples to get some Maxtor 500 gig drives that were advertised in a circular (the squarer was being saved for April), and after mine was reformatted by the Mac (it had to be to be used), it stopped working. Sigh, so I exchanged it. And now Beff tells me hers isn't recognized at all by her computer, and I haven't tried the new one yet -- but geesh, Maxtor, 2 for 2 in drives that don't work. Whassup with that? That's nutty!

I heretofore resolve to end at least one paragraph in each update with "That's nutty!" until I stop.

Saturday was a BMOP concert with "inspired collaborations" including pieces by Lisa Bielawa, Dewek, and Ken, so I drove in a little early, motored around the Pru and Copley Place, ate at Pizzeria Uno, had a beer at a bar specifically to use the wi-fi with my iPod Touch, saw the preconcert thing, and heard the concert from the balcony. It was yet another fantastic concert, Derek's piece was quite original and came off as too long (partly because it was), Ken's piece featured him doing what was billed as "overtone singing" (partly because it was) and found very resourceful ways to repeat the same gesture in the orchestra without it being repetitive, and Lisa's double violin concerto was really, really beautiful (partly because it was).

And in the last of the Things to Report category, the CDs of my DC and North Carolina performances finally arrived -- though dammit, no CD of F This yet -- and I have put samples up in my webspace, with the links as featured to the left. Geoffy's Clave and Moody's Blues are in yellow (his rendition of Dorian Blue was also great, which I had heard for the first time! -- not to mention, of course, Schnozzage (which hardly anybody seems to know he PREMIERED) and Dirty Rag), and the Marine Band's official performance of Cantina at Northern Virginia Community College is there in green. Amazing stuff going on in both sets, and I'm getting used to the new piano and the new acoustics for Cantina. The performance of Cantina 3, in particular, amazes and delights. Well, it does me, anyway.

With today's burst of warmthositudinousness, all the standing snow, even the high piles by the front door, is finally gone. Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working.

I resolve to end at least one paragraph with "Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working." in every update until I stop. Indeed, I'm adding that one to my Lexicon. Woo hoo!

The Quarterdeck is closed! Forever! While walking to the Post Office, I saw a sign in the window for "Last Meal, Saturday March 29". Beff looked it up in the local papers, discovered that the Quarterdeck Market and restaurant were opened by a bunch of brothers in the 1980s during the heyday of Digital Equipment in Maynard, some of whom went to the docks to buy the fish, some of whom ran the restaurant, and one by one they exited the business. The last one got tired, is keeping the fish market, but according to Steve at Maynard Door and Window, an "American" restaurant is coming in to take its place. But seafood! No more seafood restaurant in Maynard! No more clam rolls! So I invited Big Mike (ka-ching!) to share in the death knell (both words of which have five letters), and on Friday night he had crabcakes and I had clam rolls. And, dear reader, you now know why: because we're worth it.

As I was grading earlier, I started getting kind of informal with the marks. I had remarked on a student's page "there's more dominantness here than tonicness." And instead of writing "A" for the grade, I wrote in "A-ness". When I said it out loud, I immediately scratched it out and wrote just "A".

And oh yes -- with the warmer weather, there's been more time spent out on the side porch -- because it is that which I do do -- and several years ago we had blocked off the two little arches making openings in the stone-cement foundation of the porch because Cammy, in particular, just vegged in there when he went outside and could not be called back inside. Recently we've heard the scratchings of squirrels going in and out, which intrigued the cats to no end. So we unblocked one of the openings to see what would happen. The cats have been going in there but coming out when they hear the magic word, so Beff said let's just leave it unblocked. But TODAY, dear reader, Sunny stayed there for many hours and was hard to get out, even with the magic word, so, sigh, I reblocked it. It's what I do. And what it is. Too.

Upcoming: Passover vacation, and some more alarmist updates that will pan out into nothing from Them What Make. Plus, people will be born, and people will die.

Today's pictures include the current and final artistic state of the former apple tree, Sunny looking out wistfully from the porch, under that my office as seen from the web cam with the "thermal camera" filter, two Photobooth pictures of me in my bathrobe, a Skype session with both of us at home and one with both of us in our offices, Sunny on the cat perch of the former apple tree, Cammy in the porch opening, and Great Road just before sunrise after a rainy day and a quick freeze overnight. Bye.

APRIL 12. Breakfast today was lite breakfast sausages with 2% cheese,orange juice and coffee. Lunch yesterday was a flatbread Ionian Awakening pizza. Dinner was fried clam appetizer and grilled salmon with a funny red and yellow chunky salsa. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 27.3 and 70.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Trust in Me" by Take 6. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST WEEK AND A HALF Two trips to Whole Foods, $infinity, purchase of rights to poetry, $300, tax owed to state of maine, $661. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: The first several months of this webspace contained no Pointless Nostalgic Reminiscences here. EVEN MORE POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: One summer -- probably around 1972 or 1973 -- my mother got obsessive about pulling vines out of everything around trees and other vegetation that was on, or close to, our yards. There had been a big, big tree that was probably not ours that we kids liked to climb partly, because there was a long horizontal branch about 8 feet off the ground and we could climb up to it and just walk along it. Once my mother pulled out the vines around it, we could also climb UP a little farther, OVER about 20 feet, and DOWN into a yet different part of the treeful experience, thus giving us maximum variety. Also, once after a storm, a big tree fell over in the neighboring yard, missing our house by about five feet. And there used to be a little parking space we would use in the neighboring vacant lot,and a tree near it that we liked to climb. And, and, and ... THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sorpriza (strangely enough, not a cognate to the Italian "sorpresa", but apparently a food that pre-dated pizza by about three hundred years in the mountainous region of the Thames River, and which was carried on skiffs from landlocked countries). THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF the not-so-closeness of the end of the school year, weather too cold for the gazebo.. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS stuff with hot sauce, low fat Velveeta on nonfat saltines, reception cheese. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Detritus Review. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: Love to love you baby. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances, Home, Bio, Reviews 4, Compositions. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They will sit in the half-bath window for hours on end if the window is open. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK AND A HALF: 2. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I used to like to make bird art from cardboard cutouts of solid colors (what?). WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Irony and bitter irony are understood to be separate. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 11,069 (and a different number on the Mac Book Pro). WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.15 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the length of your lips, something without a label that we need to create a UPC code for, the habit of adding "ness" to a noun to describe its affect, some ear buds that just won't stay in your ears.

Dear reader, yet only eleven days since the last update, and it's hard to remember everything that has happened (because, like, for that you'd need superpowers or something). And I am wearing my bathrobe. That's nutty!

This particular weekend is more full of space because of weather (cool and damp and rainy and icky and gray and early springlike and full of chattering blue jays and robins and wrens and the lawn is greening up and skunks are making little holes in the lawn looking for grubs but I seem to have lost my train of thought here) and Beffness. Indeed, Beff's supreme dedication (more expensive than the "superior" dedication, which is itself more expensive than the "better" and "generic" dedication -- check the brochure) to her students is keeping her in the big New England state (hint: Maine) for the weekend, thus making it my prerogative to stay at home and work and scoop kitty poop and take out the garbage, etc. Some of which I do anyway. All by way of saying -- I sit here Saturday morning updating my update because there's not much else to do. Well, I do have a pile of hand-ins to mark up (but NOT GRADE!) for Theory 1, which would seem to explain that updating today instead of Tuesday is a serving a procrastinatory function. Procrastinationness. Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working.

I have, as is my wont, been teaching minuet stuff in Theory 1, and this week, highways and byways -- that is, a smattering (wha smatter wit choo?) of mode mixture (not mowed mixture as we get on the lawn in July), the Neapolitan chord (funny joke for these parentheses deleted), and augmented sixth chords. Indeed, on Thursday it was Brandeis Open House day (a day important enough to capitalize not once, but twice), and my classroom -- which easily holds a class of 40 -- was filled to the brim. Despite the fact that the course has 15 students in it. Dear reader, can you make the logical leap to why it was filled to the brim (with the great taste of Rihm)? So parents of students accepted to Brandeis and the students themselves were other-than-clandestinely watching what a theory class at Brandeis is like, and I used all my reserves of energy and teacherness to show them that augmented sixth chords aren't just really complicated, they're fun! That's nutty!

And otherwise, teaching one student at a time (the "private lesson" thing they don't write about in crime novels) proceeded as if by magic. We are also having a search in the department, for a musicologist with Renaissance specialty-plus, and I am on the search committee; in addition, April is the Month of Many Colloquia (note that it gets THREE capitalized words. I'm just nutty that way), which has meant lots of eating out at the expense of others, not to mention cheese cubes placed on top of crackers one-tenth their thickness and digging in. And celery. Always celery. Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working.

On top of that, the Brandeis Festival of Creative Arts is in full swing (they don't do Half Swings at Brandeis, especially the kind that are capitalized), and tomorrow (Sunday) is the Day Of Many Simultaneous Performances. Being that I was on the selection panel for this day, fill in the rest of this sentence as you will. So I will be at Brandeis most of the day tomorrow, not just to do my official function -- introduce Seunghee's piano performance in Slosberg Hall at 3 -- but also see lots of interesting performances, not least a performance by the jazz ensemble including Dave Guerette's phase piece he wrote with me last fall. That's nutty!

So a Candidate Interview Day, Wednesday, overlapped with the official kickoff of the Festival of the Arts, and -- get this -- the Brandeis chamber choir PREMIERED my "Sonnet 22" setting from 19friggin76 that night. And it sounded rather good. It's still a piece of juvenilia (note to self: pronounce with a "j" ("dzhay") incipit, not a "y" sound), and the phrase connections are bumpy, but I enjoyed it. I noted with glee (not with glee club, but that's a pretty cheap joke, and shame on me) that I "waited" 32 years to hear it. Only a third as long as Bach waited to hear his B minor mass, by which time he had been dead for 91 years. Why, you! The first half of that concert ended with 4 settings of jazz standards, with alto and soprano soloists taking solo turns, making it the first time I'd heard several of the students who've taken theory with me perform, and they were rather good. There was also a choral "arrangement" of Ives's "Serenity", which wasn't an "arrangement" at all -- same piano part, and the entire chorus sang the tune in unison/octaves. Not a heck of a lot of work for the "arranger". Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working.

Meanwhile, LAST weekend, which featured Beff at home after having spent the previous one in Maine, featured Beff at home. Weather was chilly but not poopily so, so we took plenty of nice walks and even did some time in the gazebo on Saturday when it got strangely and briefly mild. We were both tickled (or, exhibited tickledness) that we got very strong wi-fi in the gazebo, and I used the occasion to use the wi-fi in the gazebo. And of course I played a bit more with the iSight camera and making goofy pictures with PhotoBooth and all that stuff. And errands were run, mostly in the passive voice. And I had taken a bunch of samples of colors home from MDAW for the siding that's going on the house this summer (as in, "this summer, we are re-siding our house"), and with much deliberation, the color we chose -- a lightish bluish grayish thing with lots of ish's attached -- is called Pelican. That's nutty!

Meanwhile, plenty of stuff related to my Life As A Composer arrived in the mail, and that included our tax return (gotcha! faked left, went right. You're welcome), which was complicated, as usual. But then we got broadsided by a K-1 (not soon to be an etude title), meaning we're going to be filing a supplementary something, sigh. And the Collage for Judy commission arrived, as well as the recording of Marilyn's premiere of "F This" (see mp3 and score links on the left), comp copies from Peters of Etudes Book VIII (still counting in Roman numerals, since the Etruscan ones are in the wash), and of my two hand drum pieces in the Michael Lipsey-commissioned collection published by Calabrese Brothers (see pictures below). Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working.

So last week's initiation of the Colloquium Fest began with Sam Adler, of to-die-for orchestration textbook fame. He talked and played music until he stopped. This week, Gus Ciamaga, Brandeis's own graduate, and the guy who started the Brandeis electronic studio, talked and played music until he stopped. It turns out Brandeis had, chronologically speaking, the fourth college electronic studio established in North America. We even beat Yale by 5 months (as we do in many time-based things), and even though I was 3 years old when the studio was established, I speak in first person plural about it. Dear reader, you may subtract 3 from my age to come up with a number to represent how long Brandeis has had an electronic studio. But then you'll have to eat it. By the way, "Ciamaga" turns out to be a Polish name. I asked him "what kind of Polish name is 'Ciamaga'?" He asked me "what kind of Polish name is 'Davy'?" That's nutty!

Just one more week until our strangely timed Passover vacation ("strangely timed" meaning very late in the school year, not its relation to the timing of Passover, which would be how it got its name), and the Colloquium Fest ends Thursday with Super Daron. We've already set up a post-dinner meeting in or near the gazebo, for which I purchased some not-at-all-execrable red wine. If all goes as it has in the past, I will wake up Friday feeling as if my head has been nailed to the bed. Meanwhile, Daron is getting a car service to take him to his hotel in advance of his Friday flight, all of it paid for by person or persons three time zones distant. Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working.

Yesterday was Rick Beaudoin's dissertation defense. That is, DOCTOR Rick Beaudoin's defense. Or, how we refer to him after the fact, though DURING the defense he wasn't a doctor. Nor did he play one on TV. The outside reader was David Sanford, who proceeded to be 45 minutes late, causing consternation and, uh, a late start. But it did come off successfully (the content of the defense will remain Top Secret), and afterwards David followed me to Maynard (because I asked him to) and we walked to, and ate at, the Blue Coyote Grill. Now considering that when the same restaurant, under previous management, was called "Amory's" (nonsequitur alert), and Beff and I once ate there for lunch and she got a soup in a bread-like bowl that she could eat -- and also considering that when you enter you get all the tasty ambience (but none of the ambivalence) of a sports bar -- the food was FANTASTIC. And not so expensive. We got a fried clam appetizer that was at least as good as you could get at the now-former Quarterdeck, and I got a salmon special that was even better, so there, nyaah nyaah Quarterdeck. Or should I say ... Cast Iron Kitchen? Yes, for those of you grasping at straws trying to find a thread of narrative in this paragraph, the space formerly occupied by the Quarterdeck is said to be soon occupied by the Cast Iron Kitchen. And so after dinner, we walked back, sat in the gazebo and talked about how soon we will be reminiscing about having sat in the gazebo, and David drove home. Which made him go in a generally westerly direction. That's nutty!

For the upcoming vacation, all that's planned is for me finally to write that etude for Nathanael May on the vaguest possible parameters -- you may remember, dear reader, that I began it during the WORST FEBRUARY VACATION EVER and chucked it forthwithness. Then, perhaps I'll write more. Because Peters likes etudes. And, believe it or not, they are thinking about various compilations of editions -- the "easy" etudes, for instance, and don't look at me like that, because some of them ARE easy. Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working.

So last night via a link from Danny's blog, I happenstanced into Detritus Review, a funny, smart, rude, smart, rude, funny, smart, rude, smart, funny, spam, spam, funny, spam, and sympathetic blog about bad writing on music. Since there is so much bad writing on music to be covered, there were a lot of entries, and I read many, many of them therein, and was up until midnight plus two minutes. Occasionally laughing out loud, occasionally laughing inwardly, and occasionally wondering what that funny hairy feeling in my nose was. And now I have satedness. That's nutty!

And oh yeah -- I updated COMPOSITIONS here with hotlinks to YouTube videos of the pieces listed in the list. I don't know why, I just did it, okay? And so this program (which cost me less in 2002 than a lot of desserts I've had) won't necessarily line up the YouTube link with the name of the piece, so it'll be an adventure for both of us. It's fine on a Mac using Safari, and in 1956 that sentence would have made no sense whatsoever. Excellent, so my nutty plan is working.

When vacation is over, just three days of classes left. Then lots of office hours to help out with minuetnesses, the readings themselves on May 6, and a river runs through it. Are you still reading, dear reader? After that's done, things crank up -- what with etude recordings, going to Chicago to hear and film Her Amyness, meeting here with Mary Fukushima about a flute piece (she is coming from Lawrence, Kansas, which will involve being on a plane at least twice, assuming she intend to go back to Lawrence), some sort of half-concert at Mannes in New York, and then I turn half a century, and then I go to Italy (and, by the way -- YOU DON'T! -- unless you do), and then I come back. And meanwhile, we are thinking of hanging in the Vermont place for a week or so right after Brandeis graduation. Or, commencement as they call it. Excellent, so my nefarious plan is nutty.

Naturally, the iSight and PhotoBooth distortion filters haven't gotten unfunny yet, so such pictures dominate the gallery for this update. But first, yet another, slightly artistic (shadows! Oooh!) picture of the emaciated apple tree, a twisted Cammy, the entrance to the dining room from the kitchen, the TWO publications that arrived this week, and four pictures that will speak (metaphorically) for themselves. That's nefarious! Bye.

APRIL 24. Breakfast today was lite breakfast sausages with 2% cheese,orange juice and coffee. Lunch yesterday was a Red Baron deep dish pizza. Dinner was 93% lean grilled cheeseburgers and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 27.5 and 83.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Etude #81, Kai'n Variation. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST WEEK AND A HALF Various extra last-minute taxes owed due to an unexpected K-1, gasoline, pointy things. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: During hockey playoff season in fifth grade, the Eastern conference championships were soon to get under way between the Canadiens and the Bruins. We lived 75 miles from Montreal and got "Hockey Night in Canada" with its cheesy theme song, and I was a Canadiens fan -- I even have, somewheres, an autographed picture of Yvan Cournoyer ("corn - Y - A"). And this was the timeof Phil Esposito and Bobby Orr in Boston, along with Jean Beliveau and Maurice Richard in Montreal. Arguments abounded within the fifth grade class as to the merit of the two teams, and I and two others stood steadfast that Montreal would win. One student on the Bruins side talked the teacher (Miss Crafts?) into letting us take a secret ballot as to who would win. Final results: Bruins 26, Canadiens 3. In reality, the Canadiens won the series and the Stanley Cup, thus showing that Just Desserts aren't just desserts. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF primary season, skewed political reporting, political reporting on political reporting, political reporting on political reporting on political reporting, Anthony Tommasini using the word "astringent". RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS Davy's extra secret hot sauce concoction, blackberries, mouth-size tomatoes. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Verizon FiOS. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: Grok. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Compositions, Home, Lexicon, Performances. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They are currently in Bangor, and Sunny spends much of the day under the covers of the bed. Plus, I get to see them often on Skype. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWELVE DAYS: 2. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE My father worked at a paper mill where they recycled unsold comic books with the covers removed; hence I was always well-stocked with comic books, but I never cultivated an appreciation for comic book cover art. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Uptown and downtown are just words. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 11,191. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.29 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard, and later, $3.39 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE trail mix in a small porcelain container, seventeen of those things you put on the back of your neck, a public transit schedule from 1957, tintinnabulation inside a horse's mouth.

When searching for meaning, don't confuse reality with reality. For you see, on top of mud house references, an argument could be built, through and through, for the conservation of (and irridescence of) things with holes. But I may be speaking from the roof of my mouth, and if that is true, there won't be straw in your soup tonight, and we know what that means -- yes, yes, yes, it's the place for someone's head to have been somewhat less than if it had been somewhat more. But I digress.

Geoffy was here for one night earlier in this reporting period, and he marveled at the "new feature" of these updates in which the first paragraph is nonsense. Alas, I had nixed that feature last time, so I guess that makes the above paragraph a return to "classic" days. Now there's something you don't see every day.

One new feature in the household is that the internet no longer goes down when the phone rings (something that wasn't supposed to happen with DSL ("talk on the phone while you surf!", said the brochures) but did with cordless phones). More on this later. Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working.

We are plopped in the middle of my Brandeis Passover vacation, and Mother Nature has cooperated with gorgeous weather -- a spell of quite dry weather with a gradual warm-up from the low 60s last Saturday to 83 yesterday (84 in Boston, 2 degrees removed from the record), and today after the passing of a front, it cools down to the mid-70s. The greenth around us has cooperated fully, with leaves of maple trees exploding into the light yellowish green color, the asparagus is bursting forth (see below), the rhubarb is near the picking stage (but further removed from the grinning stage), and heck, I even had to mow a part of the lawn where the grass had (duh) gotten high. Funny how I never tire of spring fever. And, dear reader, you may have noticed by now that I like it when it gets warm. That's nutty!

Indeed, indeed! At the end of the last update, I talked about the cold and gloomy weather that was then happening that day, and then Them What Make got it horribly, wonderfully wrong -- instead of cloudy and 52, it became hazy-sun and 75. I took the opportunity to do yard work (lots of pulling of vines and trimming of dead branches), and take a bike ride (West Acton) and lounge on the hammock. I had heard a knock on the front door, which I tend never to answer --- since in the eight years we've been here, previously such knocks mean only one of two things: Jehovah's Witnesses or Domino's delivering to the wrong address. So I didn't answer. Whoops, meanwhile I had to fax an unexpected K-1 to our accountant, which made me vulnerable -- the knock came again, and I was evident to anyone peering in. Sigh, so I answered. And it was door-to-door Verizon people signing up people for FiOS internet and phone service. I said yes, signed a bunch of stuff, while faxing away. More details to follow, below, and that's nutty!

Before this glorious vacation beginned, though, there was still much teaching to accomplish to make it this far, plus I had to convince my Patriots Day students at NEC (as in, Monday, first day of this vacation, Boston marathon) that it was REALLY HARD to get into NEC on the day of the Marathon. They were convinced, luckily. Meantime, there was more minuetness to discuss in theory classes (I spent, like, 45 minutes showing different ways you could use applied chords to ornament a I-V-V-I progression), there were a few minuet consultations, and there was a department meeting (in which, as always, issues that should take 5 minutes to resolve take 25), followed by the Daronius experience. Now there's something you don't see every day.

So yes, my upbeat to my vacation was actually a Daron Hagen colloquium, and it was quite excellent. Daron played a double concerto without venturing to explain or elucidate it, and then spent a very entertaining time riffing on the music biz thing -- and the students really, really liked it. After the event was the reception and dinner, and it was me and Yu-Hui and Daron at the Asian Grill, with Daron being the first this spring (this was my seventh time there, what with the job search candidates) to order the all-you-can-eat sushi. And that comes on a boat-shaped thing that looks like it would actually sink like a stone in water. Daron was on his way the next day to Seattle, and those people (in Seattle) were covering the cost of a hotel for him, so we made our way to Maynard afterwards, had scotch (Daron) and beer (moi) in the gazebo for two and a half hours, giggled uncontrollably at times, and at eleven a car service (AAA Limo) took Daron to his hotel. Now there's something you don't see every day.

And with the start of my vacation official, I was able to concentrate on summer planning, and the actual writing of music. I scheduled three days in Chicago at the end of May to work with Amy on etudes -- and to make movies of them -- since there's the recording session in New York at the beginning of June. Beff and I thus were able to schedule a week in May, leading up to Memorial Day, at the Vermont place. Meanwhile, Beff was here for the weekend, and it was in the cooler portion of this dry spell, but the sun made it nice. So we did the Boon Lake bike ride, and what it is, too. And on Sunday, Johnny A and MJ came by and we walked through the Assabet wildlife preserve -- formerly known as the National Guard Training Grounds. We also served rhubarb and pickles. After that was done, Beff brought the cats with her to Maine for a two-week stint there caused by her students having lots of weekend recitals, etc. Now there's something you don't see every day.

So last February I tried to write an etude for Nathanael May based on some weird parameters. Meanwhile, my colleagues in composition decided to take our vacation days to have group meetings to do graduate admissions, which in retrospect we all agreed was a colossal waste of all of our time. Because a) VACATION, people! and b) things go much faster when we look at the materials invidually and THEN meet, and c) WORST VACATION EVER. And I tossed that etude. So it was incumbent upon me to try again, which I did, beginning on Patriots Day. I finished it yesterday, and titled it as a weird pun on Nathanael's last name: "M'Aidez". Work it out with a pencil (see blue link to the left). The ideas being etuded are so strange and disparate that I couldn't come up with an aphorism for what it's "about". So I just left that part blank. TODAY I was at a loss for new etude ideas, and as I awoke I thought of overlapping repeated note/chord hairpins in some minimalist music I neither like nor dislike. So I started an etude, #84, on that idea, this morning. The first five bars were extremely easy to write. I think I may also do the etude-pair thing like I did with mirror etudes and cool-chord etudes and do another etude on syncopated repeated note patterns -- taking care not to make it sound too much like a Morse code etude. Not that there's anything wrong with that -- and it's something you don't see every day.

And the latter part of Monday featured Buffalo wings with Ken -- a supplementale, as he called it. We walked to the Village Pizzeria for those, and then to Erikson's Ice Cream for ice cream, took some zany pictures with the iSight, and Ken had to get back to his job that wasn't in vacation mode.

But to backtrack a bit. Last Wednesday was a doozy of a day, not just because there was a lot of teaching stuff to accomplish and not just because the sunniness meant my office was getting hot again. But that extra K-1 meant more work for our accountant, and extra tax returns to file (we had already e-filed Federal, Maine, and Massachusetts), and they arrived that day, meaning FOUR checks to write (Vermont is now in the mix) and a quick trip to the post office. I also lounged on the gazebo and planted grass seed near the apple tree-cum-sculpture. But that night was also Seunghee's recital, including premieres of etudes #80 and #81, and I got to hear them and film them before the concert -- though with no page turner there for the runthrough, there's lots of stoppage, and in the videos there are some breathtaking jump cuts for the sake of continuity -- see red links to the left. And it was a fun affair, what with 3 Chopin etudes and the third Chopin sonata also done from memory. Now there's something you don't see every day.

And backtracking even further. The previous Sunday was Festival of the Arts mondo-day and I had to introduce Seunghee's performance as well as attend performances of pieces by my charges (Rachel's musical, excerpts, and Dave G's jazz band phase piece). I had no idea what Seunghee was going to do, but I introduced her anyway, and it turned out to be good -- some piano pieces of her own in response to some Korean engravings. While I was at Brandeis I also caught some of the stuff going on elsewhere, including a Brahms quartet at the Rose Art Museum. Now there's something you don't see every day.

So jump-cutting back to our current reality. Verizon was scheduled to come and install our fiber optic stuff on Tuesday, and by 2:00 no one had showed up -- slightly distressing considering TWO machines called my machine to let me know to expect a four to eight hour installation duration (not even remotely related to the conjunction junction, but we can dream, can't we?). Though at 8:30 and 11:30 Verizon trucks could be spied across the street with workers hoisted on hinged ladders a-messin' with the makin's of telephone poles. But finally -- a dude with a ponytail, goatee, and an orange flak jacket showed up, did the nasty of a-stringin' a long wire through the plumage of a maple tree from a telephone pole to the side of our house, and made various drilling sounds, while I was a-writin' away, and occasionally enjoying the gorgeous weather. Finally at about 6:30 things were ready to roll. And what did I have? A new big white box on the side of the house, a new big white box in the basement, a new hole in the house in the computer room, a new VERIZON FIOS router, and a play-by-play of the Red Sox game that had just started (Ellsbury homered to lead off). Now there's something you don't see every day.

So Verizon guy tried to do some configuring from the Mac Book Pro downstairs, but the Verizon software was weird, so he did it from the Windows computer. I now have another e-mail address -- drakowski at verizon dot net as well as ziodavino at verizon dot net (attached to the DSL in Bangor), and I had to call earthlink to tell them I wasn't doing DSL OR home networking any more (and now that I think of it -- the extra ten bucks a month for home networking we paid was unnecessary, wasn't it?) and I'm downgraded to e-mail and webspace only. Then he did the speed test, which confirmed we have very fast internet. When I moved from 56k dial-up to 768K DSL, the speed change was vast. Now we moved from 768K DSL to 20M FiOs, and it screams --- the first thing I did was watch some Daily Show videos that previously skipped and jumped, lumberjack-like. And it worked! And then Beff and I Skyped, and I brought the Mac Book all the way out to the edge of the yard and confirmed that the network goes pretty far and wide. Zounds! And now the Apple Airport Extreme and Airport Express are relegated to the attic. Or perhaps we'll find somewhere else to use them. Oh yeah -- and we have unlimited long distance phone calling now, too. Now there's something you don't see every day.

So getting this screamingly fast internet thing -- sort of like spring fever. When the first warm days come, there's no way I want to spend it indoors, since it feels like I have to get outside and soak in the warmth before it goes away. Same with the fast internet -- I was trying to invent ways to utilize fully the new fast stream of 0s and 1s before it ... goes away? So I was doing the Daily Show excerpts, and other various things that show video and -- eww -- I even went to and suffered through almost an entire minute of an episode of I Dream of Jeannie. Meantime -- I look forward to un-interrupted, non-jerky internet viewings of 30 Rock and Ugly Betty when Beff is back. That's nutty!

So all that's left is three days of school once we return, plus lots and lots of minuet consultations, a dinner out with my NEC charges, two PhD orals, a faculty senate meeting, blah blah blah. Last year at this time there was no easing into the summer work season -- as I went straight to MacDowell the day after classes ended, and any Brandeis biz was an official intrusion. This year, the academic year will sort of peter out gradually, what with minuet readings and those orals and other meetings and all that. And hey -- I'm going to commencement! May 18, and that's contractually my last day I have any obligations to Brandeis until classes start again. I look forward to wearing our Princeton robe, black with orange stripes on the arms. Much more succinctly, I look forward to not wearing it. Woo hoo! Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working.

Pictures this week are fairly self-explanatory. Obviously the cats now have a perching place by the door on the porch, and every spring there is an obligatory action shot of a beer clutched while lounging. And the Nikon continues to take kickass close-ups, this time of the asparagus just starting to emerge. Then there's me and Ken and Geoffy on the iSight. Bye.

MAY 8. Breakfast today was lite breakfast sausages with 2% cheese,orange juice and coffee. Lunch today was a Caliofornia Kitchen frozen 4-cheese pizza reheated to eating temperature. Dinner last night was 2 Bloody Maries, clam chowder, Caesar salad, and a spinach-wrapped salmon filet. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 29.1 and 78.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Dan Beller's Theory 1 minuet. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Filling up the tank, more than $30 now, dinner for my NEC charges $178 including tip, and other sundry things. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I learned to play baseball in Mike and Pete Gray's backyard when I was 6, and as is usual for kids, when they put you in the game, they expect you to know already how it is played. I recall being 2nd baseman, fielding a grounder, and throwing it back to the pitcher, and then excoriated for not throwing it to first. Later, the little games happened in our "way back" yard, which was surrounded by fields and trees, so foul balls and home runs involved a lot of rooting through vegetation to get the ball back. Once I recall being hit in the forehead by a line drive and not flinching, thus proving that I had a hard head. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Not exactly cute, but Cammy starts trying to wake me up when the birds start to sing, which is around 5. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: endoctology (obviously a medical term referring to something so secret we don't even know if we spelled it right). RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 7. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE The 1990s fad for distressed type was all my fault. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: McCain gets actual scrutiny by the press. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 11,191. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.59 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE whatever McCain is eating, a trial size of Scope mouthwash, a bone that didn't get cut out of a salmon filet, distant lightning that brings back moments from your childhood, but not good ones.

The grammar of noticeability was formulated after years of chocolate research; we couldn't help laughing, at the time, because Johnny's head kept turning into a pot, and that made the microwave oven smile a little bit. So if we presume "ancillary" and "flapjack" are homonyms, we run into a classic case of poodle rot -- which, on the one hand, enriches the Southern hemisphere, but on the other hand, makes pinkness seem almost normal. The mosquito population reported a run on enhancedness, but when I asked my bicycle where it had found that half-kitten, everything seemed to be shaped like parallelograms.

Dear reader, since the last update, my vacation ended and my vacation started. This is why I am a composer -- I can embrace, and lovingly so, apparent contradictions, and turn them into contradistinctions. I want to rub it all over my body.

So after that screamingly fast Verizon FiOS was installed, and after I got sufficiently accustomed to having it (i.e., I wasn't constantly logged on to breathe in the bandwidth as if it were going to disappear if I didn't keep using it), my life went a little back to normal -- except for the part about making toll calls for free, which also now happens on our phone line. I also called Earthlink to downgrade my service from DSL with home networking ($40 + $10 and I'm pretty sure that extra 10 bucks was a ripoff) to e-mailbox and webspace ($10). 768K DSL just wasn't doing it, and 20,000k FiOS actually costs LESS. As does the phone bill, by the way, especially since caller ID was costing us nine bucks a month, and it's included in the new package. Now there's something you don't see every day.

Aw, geez, I hate this stupid program. I had typed another four or five paragraphs after the ones above, saved it, quit, and came back to find those paragraphs missing in action. Which makes me mad. And -- that which follows was added after the first posting of News, and that ain't just whistlin' Dixie. Friday morning of vacation week, I awoke and noticed that way up on my right leg, maybe two inches below the, uh, buttcheek, I had a big pimple that I'd never noticed before. Pulling the pimple revealed that it was a tick, which had probably gotten onto me during our walk through the nature preserve the previous weekend, and that's a big eeew. It wasn't one of the teeny ones that carries disease, but it was small and the consistency of a little raisin -- basically the same sort of thing I pulled off of Cammy several weeks earlier. I did the "eww, gross!" thing and tossed it on the floor, but then came to my senses, found it, and put it on the nightstand for a proper viewing. Then it locomoted a little with its teeny-weeny legs, and I immediately brought it to the outdoor trash bin. Subsequent examinations of the scar reveal no bullseye or lingering poopiness. That's nutty!

So let's see, what did I report next? Um... um, ... crap. Well, okay, once I got used to the gorgeous weather and fast internet, I got back on the etude-writing horse -- this being the week of tragically imperfect metaphors. I had gotten stuck in my brain (or between my teeth, I forget which) a simple repeated note figure with a chromatic wedge (i.e. getting louder and then softer). And I thought I might try to write a piano etude that started out as if it were going to be minimalist, but then turns into anything but (anything but minimal, but not literally anything -- I don't think puddle geometry would be in bounds here. Imperfect metaphors, people. Hello, is this thing on? If you've read this far into the paragraph, then you must be invested in its outcome, so here goes....breathing inward....). So the dynamic wedges overlap and a few simple polyrhythms get layered in, and often one hand has to do independent wedges for two contrapuntal voices, and I exerted enough self-control to get at least 75 seconds of music before the chord changes. After which it changes a lot faster, blah blah blah. And then the final cadential chord and its figures just keep repeating, keep repeating, keep repeating. Because it's not what I do, but it is what I did. I came up with a title that is now officially the third goofiest in the etude canon: What's Hairpinning. I didn't even consider the title "Wedge Issue", because I only just thought of it right now, but that just goes to show you -- see blue link on the left. Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working.

So very soon after I finished the wedge piece, Beff arrived, cats in hand (I'm speaking figuratively, or perhaps metaphorically here) for the weekend, and stuff was done by us -- including Beff catching up on 2 episodes of Top Chef (in which she is invested, but I'm on the sidelines), watching 30 Rock on SCREAMING FAST internet, taking walks in the cooler weather, and having good food cooked by Davy. And then back she went. I want to rub it all over my body.

So the teaching week included the last day of classes WOO FRIGGIN HOO, which was Wednesday, but I went in, and went in very early, all five days that week. For you see, with sunrise coming so early now and the birds beginning to sing at 4:20 (believe me, I know), Cammy gets restless and tries to wake up Davy around 5ish most mornings now -- which means I tended to succumb around 5:30 every morning and I got to work very, very early. So on Monday I looked at Seunghee's new piece, did theory, set up minuet consultation times, drove to NEC and had my last meetings with Travis, Miriam and Jeff, and back I came. Tuesday was a day of many minuet consultation meetings -- oh, rooting out that bad voice leading is very taxing. Wednesday included doughnuts and orange juice for Theory 1 as well as the usual lessons for the grad composition seminar. Thursday was a day of neither classes nor exams, but there I was doing my Thursday teaching to make up for one of the days I was in North Carolina. Friday was a day of Derek J's PhD oral and many more minuet consultations. Meanwhile, Geoffy was here practically all week and I saw him but once, for about a half hour, on Monday night. Now there's something you don't see every day.

Beff got in Friday night, just about in time for dinner, which was salmon burgers from Whole Foods (half the size of what they give you). It was cool again, but we did our exercise, and Beff watched the Kentucky Derby while I made KILLA salmon with garlic aioli, and schedules were such that Beff could stay until VERY early Monday morning. And we were both out the door by 6, eww. That's nutty!

On Monday I went in for a generic block of office hours for any students who wanted last minute minuet consultation advice -- thus bringing my EXTRA office hours for this project in this eight-day block to fourteen. I had some clients, and when I was done it was warm-ish. So home I came, and bike ride I did. Meanwhile I noticed on New Music Box that it was HAYES'S BIRTHDAY, so I e-mailed him, and then decided to do a chromatic, Wagnerian harmonization of Happy Birthday (can I say that on TV?) -- which I arranged for string quartet and sent to Hayes immediately. The string quartet thing was because the Lyds were going to be doing the Theory 1 minuet readings the next day and hey, why not get them to read this thing? What's the point of having power if you can't abuse it? The blue "Hazed and Confused" link is the score, the green one the reading. Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working.

Meanwhile, also on Monday, I finally got a CD from the Chamber Choir's performance of my 32-year-old SATB piece. Over on the left, the blue "Sonnet 22" link is the score and the green one the performance. You can certainly hear that I was listening to Hindemith in 1976, and had read through, at the piano, "The Swan" from "Six Chansons" right around then. I want to rub it all over my body.

And woo hoo! Got up real early Tuesday again (thanks, Cammy! You are a cat! I'm not! Woo hoo!), bided time till the quartet readings, and little by little shepherded the student from both theory sections into the performance hall, where the Lyds were already rehearsing. I forced them to read Hazed and Confused while I checked the levels on my Edirol (I called it the "Ice Breaker" on my schedule for the readings). And then the Lyds did splendiforously, reading through 26 or 27 (I didn't count) final projects. And as usual, the students who had five weeks worth of worry wrinkles on their faces from this project, started grinning from ear to ear. Even the imperfect ones sounded fantastic in the readings, and the very, very good ones seemed, in context, transcendent (meaning ... they go from cend to cend?). I also took Flip Videos of five of the minuets. Immediately afterwards I burned all the Edirol sound files onto one CD, which I gave to one student to share, as it were, and when I got home I put the video files onto some CDs, made a bunch of audio discs of the raw readings, edited a few of those in my section, converted them to mp3, and e-mailed them. Now there's something you don't see every day.

And Wednesday. Ah, Wednesday, last day of everything WOO FRIGGIN HOO which was, nonetheless, very long. I saw my three Wednesday students for makeup lessons and also did Yohanan's PhD oral. After which I drove to NEC and parked, walked around a bit in the warm, and took Travis, Miriam and Jeff out to Legal Seafoods in the Pru for dinner. Jokes were told (including one with the punch line "Artie Chokes Three for a Dollar at Whole Foods"), I came back, and here I am today. Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working.

This morning I had planned to sleep in. Cammy's idea was otherwise. I got up at the luxurious time of 6:10, had breakfast, did some food shopping, took my bike ride (second Gropius house in West Concord), nagged Maynard Door and Window about the ramp to the shed, and here I am. So it's been a boring two weeks, but there's been plenty of STUFF in them. So there. I want to rub it all over my body.

In the meantime -- with regard to the future. I got confirmation that I WILL be writing a piece for a "composers respond to jazz" series at Merkin Hall, and it's for string quartet, woodwind quintet, and piano. Or as I've been saying, "half a Mozart orchestra, and the half that doesn't blend". To that end, I've downloaded a bunch of woodwind quintet recordings from iTunes, and it seems the engineers on those recordings have solved the intractible dilemma of the non-blending nature of the woodwind quintet -- by utilizing tons and tons of reverb. I'm hoping Merkin Hall will have that available. I also have been given the rest of the program (which is May 30, 2009, by the way), which seems to think tango qualifies as jazz (well, it may as well). So that's my big summer project. I want to rub it all over my body.

And going through the calendar for the summer, it became strangely apparent that I've got nearly no free days between Brandeis commencement and the first day of classes. Cool. But do know, dear reader, that I WILL, for the first time ever, be attending both big commencement and mini-commencement at Brandeis on the 18th. And wearing that cool black with a few orange stripes robe that Beff bought after her Princeton graduation. Because it is what we do. Now there's something you don't see every day.

For tonight, I am having a grilled salmon filet, and tonight I am trying, for the first time, a McCormick's Cajun sauce for it. Kind of as an experiment. If all goes well, it will join the rotation of possible salmon stuff. I also bought some more salmon at Stop & Shop this morning and a lemon-something aioli sauce, for future experimentation. So summer is here, summer is here, summer is here. Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working.

So I didn't take any regular pictures the last couple of weeks. So just before starting this -- and just before the sun came out for good after a bit of morning rain -- I took pictures outside. So here's what these EXTREMELY FRESH AND NATURAL pictures are: The kitties out and about, doing the fresh and natural thing; the apple tree sculpture and its current environment; the current state of the rhubarb; the quince bush; some out-of-focus white flowers by the garage; the current state of the asparagus I planted last May (Mindy Wagner asks if it is mutant asparagus -- because it's so tall); and the new computer, as it appears in the computer room. Bye.

MAY 27. Breakfast today was lite breakfast sausages with 2% cheese,orange juice and coffee. Lunch yesterday was a few pieces of leftover shish kebab, served cold like revenge. Dinner last night was chicken skewers, broccoli, and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 36.7 and 80.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Hayesed and Confused", strangely enough. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Filling up the tank, more than $35 now, various shoppingness in Vermont including $5.49 each for 8 bundles of firewood. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I played for the Pirates in Midget League (9 and 10 year olds), and was the starting shortstop. According to the coach, I batted .358. I hit plenty of homers in batting practice, none in an actual game. One time I clearly threw out a runner at first (you heard clop-thud, the "clop" being the ball landing in the mitt, very clearly) but he was called safe. The first base ump who blew the call heard the kids making fun of him and his incompetence, and he stormed away on his motorcycle in protest. Somebody in the stands came in to finish the game umping at first. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: The cats loved walking on the railing in the Vermont place, and never failed to look awkward or pointless. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: pinosco (apparently from the Neapolitan dialect, and it was kind of a wild card word meaning anything from dented hat to deranged wagon). RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST THREE WEEKS: 11. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE My blood type is A positive. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: It doesn't get cold in Vermont when I'm there. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 11,267. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.89 in Vermont and $3.89 in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a frayed razor strop, the head of a pin after all the angels have jumped off, a scordatura string, seven of those things you have to put away right now, mister.

Without text, masochism doesn't make a world of difference, unless the cat found out where I put the scissors. For you see, there had to be some leeway when we opened the grass seed, and when I gave coffee to the smurfs, they started to realize that branching is what you do when you have a cold. By the way, if I hadn't already made some gastrointestinal calculations, I would have had to find a bird to give my whoopee cushion to, so I'm glad we didn't find the dandelion where the car had been idling for so long.

Dear reader, 19 days since the last update, and boy are my arms tired. Spring and summer activity commenced here, including full mowing of all the lawns (despite the brownness of some of it, due apparently to grubs) and weeding of the asparagus -- though there's been no picking of the asparagus. I am waiting until next year to harvest our Mindy-agus, and this year it's just flowering and all that. Indeed, right now the rhododendrons and our canopy-like bushes are flowering, and the lilacs continue to bloom. And our super-mod former apple tree sculpture continues to be in the back yard. I want to rub it all over my nefarious plan.

So for many days after the last update, which was also many days after the Lydian Quartet minuet readings, I had those minuets stuck in my head, likely because of the super minuet glue that resides there -- extracting them from the raw recordings and e-mailing the mp3s to the students does that for a fella, after all. Plus, I grudgingly accepted a bunch of late homework, some of it egregiously so, and I didn't get my grades in until Milton Babbitt's birthday. Milton, of course, could have cared less. Excellent, so my body isn't something you see every day.

So after finally getting all the grading done, there was the Brandeis commencements to go to -- a full commencement at 10:30 with super-mega projections, etc., as well as a mini-commencement at 1:30 for the School of Creative Arts. I got to wear my full Princeton regalia that Beff owns, and I was durned impressive-looking. CNN guy Bill Schneider gave the commencement address, which ended, "we broke it, you fix it!", and the Brandeis prez had to exit early for his own daughter's graduation in DC. In between the two ceremonies I got a little roast beef sammich from the place next to the Dry Cleaners, and got to watch all of our grads get their awards, etc. And afterwards there was time spent on the driveway outside the theater building with Rachel's family -- apparently Rachel's mom thinks I'm a famous composer, and I love to spend time in the company of people who have that particular delusion. Rachel also gave me a frog-piano type sculpture commissioned to commemorate the time we spent putting her musical into shape. It's now got an honored place next to my bobblehead Schroeder on my office piano. Now there's something nefarious I want to rub.

After graduation I got home, we had salmon, and we packed for the next week to be spent at the Vermont place. It's always fun trying to make it look normal to the cats, who always suspect that we're going to put them in carrying cases whenever we seem to be moving a lot of stuff around, and in this case they were right. Once Sunny actually hid in the pump organ for such an occasion, so this time we simply shut them on the porch before putting them in the carriers, we packed the car, and off we went. While it was about 65 and hazy in Maynard, by the time we got to Burlington it was 52 and rainy, and it was not soon to exceed that temperature. Excellent, so my rub is a nefarious plan.

The sun went in and out over the first few days there, and we spent most of our time indoors -- in my case with a blanket being worn as a cape -- but when it got a little nicer we took out some bicycles and rode along the Burlington bike path, very nearby. When we first arrived, of course, a lot of the place had yet to be summer-ready, and of course we couldn't find the cat litter box we had left there last August and that meant an immediate trip to Ace Hardware to get a cheap one (and boy was it cheap). Much later in the week we located the proper box, but too late, my friends, too late. And I'm sure the cats were embarrassed to be pooping in a purple box. After that, I took a shopping trip to Hannafords to get our lunches and dinners for the next several days while Beff cleaned and mopped and cleaned some more. Our only night out was that first night, and we went to the Vermont Brew Pub for an early dinner -- I had hefeweizen and Altbier, salad, and Buffalo wings with extra hot sauce. I want to plan to rub it nefariously.

And then while weather forecasts kept promising more springlike temperatures for Thursday and Friday, they didn't really come until late Saturday and especially Sunday. Nonetheless, we took more bike rides and walks, played with the cats a lot, lounged, used our computers on what turned out to be very fast wi-fi (even faster than our FiOS, apparently), and goofed off. Beff did do some work on a video and instruments piece, but I didn't do any actual work except to make some handouts for Music 5, which I'm teaching in the fall. Which, in some small way, qualified the trip as a business trip. I usually cooked on the grill outdoors -- pineapple, salmon, chicken, hamburgers, even hot dogs -- and in the morning got to use the ELECTRIC stove. And then it was time to goof off some more. The only trips we took outside the compound were one to downtown Burlington to see what was there (where we got grapefruit paraphernalia, which I believe is legal in Vermont), and a drive to St. Albans, ostensibly to go to Warner's for lunch, but since it was Sunday it was closed. A snack bar? Closed? On Memorial Day weekend? Say it ain't so! We did see a little of downtown St. Albans, which now has a little arch, which brings you into ... a parking lot. Why couldn't I have grown up in a real city? My excellent nefariousness is working all over my body.

For the weekend, Beff's sister Ann and her high-school age son Jack came up, which made cooking twice as bulky. Three of us did a Saturday bike ride -- in the SUN! -- and a little chicken cookout, etc. And on Sunday it finally got warm. Into the upper 70s, indeed. And our penalty for that was that while we were getting closer to nature, it was getting closer to us. To wit, in the upstairs bedroom area, where Beff went to practice the clarinet, many flying ants showed themselves -- it being the hot part of the house -- and I personally killed between 40 and 50 of them with my flip-flops. It was a time of desperate need for heroes, and I grudgingly filled those shoes. And our nocturnal adventures included watching a lot of the fifth season of Angel, which I found engrossing -- especially the episode called "Smile Time" in which Angel is turned into a puppet. As Beff kept saying afterwards -- "Stupid hands. Stupid string." My excellent body is working nefarious every day, so!

Yesterday was Memorial Day, and of course we had to re-pack, fool the cats into not thinking they were going into boxes again, and we had a reasonably eventless drive back to Maynard, a reasonably eventless bike ride to Boon Lake and back, and a reasonably eventless cooking of dinner, etc. As usual, it was nice to be back with my STUFF, and as usual, I had a pile of letters to write. Still do. Today I already went to pick up the held mail (unimpressive), Beff picked up and went to Bangor for meetings and to meet with a guy doing work on THAT house, and shortly (he shoulda been here by now), our chimney is to be cleaned. Then I'll need to to a bike ride, and to take the car to a car wash -- pollen, dontcha know. And then the summer goes into hyperdrive. I want to be excellent to see every nefarious day.

Tomorrow, off to Chicago, stay with Amy, make etude movies (check YouTube to see if I post any new ones). Come back Saturday. Sunday, to New York, give Marilyn the toy piano. Monday to Wednesday, recording sessions. Back Thursday. Friday, Mary and Mike arrive, leave the following Tuesday. Then I might have a day. Then to New York again, back, I become exactly half a century long (timewise), Ken's party, and I go to Italy. Where I might FINALLY get the time to start my piece -- for which I still have no usable or non-usable ideas. So there, smarty pants.

Today's pictures include a super-closeup of blossoms on one of our shrubs, Sunny making nice with a BIG piece of asparagus I picked in our back yard (an old asparagus, not a Mindy-agus), two views of the lake from the summer place, various views inside the Vermont place, and the new arch in the city of St. Albans. Bye.

JUNE 9. Lunch today is supermarket sushi. Breakfast was orange juice and ice coffee. Dinner last night was salmon fillets, asparagus, salad, apple pie, black and tan ice cream from Ericksons, and much beer. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 42.3 and 92.8. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS A little bit of Mary's piccolo demos, but it had been something else I can't identify. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Filling up the tank, more than $35 now, shopping in Chicago $47, various dinners with Mike and Mary, ca. $70, down payment on new siding, $15,741.50. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When the family had a tent trailer, we got into the pattern of camping at the Island Pond campsites every year; in the latter part of this tradition, we had the "extra room" that zips onto the side of the sleeper part of the tent trailer, where we could sit and read while it rained. Every year we went I'd go to campsite 29 and yell to hear echoes and was hoarse the rest of the week. It was at the Island Pond beach where I first learned how to float, and quickly thereafter how to swim -- after having taking a summer's worth of swimming lessons and never getting beyond "rhythmic breathing". NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: With the hot weather, they sleep at the end of the bed and get all stretchy. Sunny likes to jump for dragonflies outside. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: crumbot (origin obscure, but it means the gap between threads on a screweye). RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 7 (Fromm commissions). FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I was once on WVMT radio when waiting to meet Santa Claus in Burlington, Vermont. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Woodwind quintet is easy to write for. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 11,267. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $3.93 in Maynard, $4.25 in Connecticut, $3.97 in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE brass knuckles, a collection of baby pictures that includes a lock of hair, some of the pollen running down the side of the back windshield, the time spent waiting for the next distant clap of thunder.

Instead of gyrating with our cupcakes, we found the place inside my head that makes motor oil seem less expensive -- so that meant we could spell the word "intransigence" any way we wanted to, although when we told that to the police they had to scratch their elbows. On the way to the bend, we found some meaning in the way that the Philips head screwdrivers uncorked their big ones, so we stopped and made philosophical pie.

Dear reader, I was just at Brandeis, for reasons to be explained later, and I was confronted by one of my colleagues for not having recently updated here. It was suggested that I put in a link to "Nag Davy About His Blog", but I think that's too hard to do with this cheap software, not to mention kind of silly. But one thing is for certain. This is the last update until the end of July, since I will be way, way away for the better part of valor, and for the better part of the intervening time. Which I find to be nutty.

Hey, it's even less than two weeks since the last one! So I average pretty goodly here. So what I bain doing? Stuff! Some of it nutty stuff! The day OF the last update, I did my update. Beff went to Maine and conferred with the guy doing work on that house (who also plays trumpet in the Bangor Symphony, and that's something I want to rub over my whole body). Meanwhile, the next morning I up and drove real early to the airport for a 6:30 flight. Alas, by 2:50 I was wide awake, so a bit of cleaning up was done in the dark, and so on, and then I drove to the tune of precious little traffic, and parked at the airport. Then, guess what -- I got on a plane! Yes, an Airbus 320 to Chicago, after which I got on the CTA and got off in the loop at Jackson, where Amy D (Amy B-D, really) picked me up. I was there so we could work together on the 24 toods she was to record the following week. Amy' has a silver Cooper Mini, and I rode in it. The dashboard is futuristic -- or at least it's big -- and in the time I spent waiting to be picked up, I got some packs of giant Smarties at a little Walgreens across from Chicago City Hall. Because it's what I do.

Amy had 3 hours worth of piano students that day, of all sizes and abilities, and I was amused to hear a bit of stuff from the Denes Agay Joy of Jazz and Joy of Boogie Woogie books I played from when *I* was a kid ("haul it 'cross the river 'fore the boss comes 'round" stuck in my head). Amy was sort of amazingly energetic in these lessons -- and me? I was in the dining room, web surfing, doing e-mail, etc., on my Mac Book Pro. Amy cooked, and it was all good -- including some pizza with clams and clam sauce. On my second day there, we made a shop to Treasure Island, which was pretty much a deluxe little Stop and Shop that billed itself as America's "most European" supermarket. Which apparently was not the decor, but how far the dollar went there. Rim shot. I got myself snacking pickles, olives, more big Smarties, etc. and even lemon juice. Why? Because I could. I even got Temptations cat treats! Why? Because it's something you don't see every day. Incidentally, it happened that on the way to the supermarket we passed Obama's house. Cool.

On Thursday Amy had no students and on Friday just two. So we spent that time video-recording 21 of the toods on the Flip, and I learned the new incarnation of iMovie that ships with Leopard on Intel Macs. The interface was not what I was used to, but this version has options to upload directly to YouTube, and since that was my intent with these videos, that's how I did it. You can see these movies by clicking on the blue links down and to the left (20 on one page, another (Third in the Hand) on the second page). During my time there I bonded with the cats (Ranjith and Reena), who make a few cameo appearances in the videos (especially Rick's Mood, Accents of Malice and Pink Tab). Much of our recording time was actually spent editing the videos and figuring out the "project" format in the software, but lots were up there by the time I went back Saturday morning. Much time was spent with the windows open, so traffic noise and birds are also occasionally evident in the videos.

We got up *very* early for my 7 am flight, and even with non-weekday traffic, there was at least one construction delay near O'Hare airport, but otherwise, I was there in plenty of time. My parking cost $84, and I hightailed it out of Logan to home. Geoffy was here when I got back, since he was in town for a gig, and the three of us went to the Blue Coyote in Maynard for lunch. It was very good. It was also threatening to rain, so I up and mowed as much lawn as I could before it started, and it turned out that before the afternoon was done, I got it ALL mowed. That's a big job, especially if you are a chipmunk. Which I am not. That night we had grilled salmon, and what it is, too.

Sunday was the next leg of this complicated summer, and after breakfast and packing, I put the older Schoenhut toy piano in the car along with its bench, got in the car, and off I went. To New York. For you see, I was going to New York for the tood sessions, and the first stop was Marilyn's NYU office to give her said toy piano. It was finally quite warm out, and sunny, so it was a good drive overall, though it was four hours door-to-door, once you factored in three stops, including one for gas. Immediately I took a circuitous route back to the west side (circuitous because who knows what's up with those Greenwich Village streets?), got on the West Side highway and was in Bronxville with Hayes and Susan before 5. When Hayes got back from wherever he was, I took them to dinner in Bronxville at an Asian fusion restaurant, followed by a beer at a sports bar (the Yankees were playing, and the game was on two monitors, though about 5 seconds later in one monitor than in the other. That's nutty!).

Next morning I up and got on the 7:46 train from Bronxville and went with Susan, we exited Grand Central in the back, and I got me a sandwich and lemonade for $11 at Pret-a-Manger. I was kind of early, so I walked around a bit, then got on the 1, and got off at 157th Street, because we were recording at the American Academy of Arts and Letters, Broadway and 154th. I hadn't been in that area since the June '03 sessions, and more is now there -- including McDonalds (coffee) and subway ($5 instead of $11 for lunch), so I made note. Amy was there and ready to roll, and the tuner yielded the piano -- a much, much gorgeous one -- around 9:50. Amy warmed up, Judy Sherman soundchecked, and we started to roll. We started with "Pedal to the Metal" and did several of the easy slow ones that day, ending up with 11 in the can by 4:50 when we quit. During the day, I had to swat at least (actually, exactly) one flie, midair, with my flip flop. Otherwise it would have gotten into the hall and onto the recording. After that I did dinner at Charley O's (must to have Buffalo wings, I said to myself, and then I did) and got back to Bronxville, alas, on a peak train (more money). Then I bonded some more with Rasia and Fritz, the cats with five-letter names. And at night it got strangely cold.

For Tuesday, I took the 8:15 train instead, got on the S to Times Square, took the 1, stood in line forever at MacDonald's waiting for coffee, which they put into a paper bag, which broke a block and a half away from MacDonald's, and some coffee got on my flip flops, but most of it got on the sidewalk. Crap. Then I got a roast beef sub at Subway and was ready for Day 2. Which ended by a little after 3 with only four left to go the next day. I had scheduled a dinner with Harold Meltzer that night, and a tentatively also with Mindy Wagner, and when I got downtown to a bar with wi-fi, I had an e-mail from Mindy asking if we were on, and I called her. Harold had already done so, so we were ready. Mindy and I met at Manhattan School and Harold cabbed up to us, and we ate at a new (new since 1994, at least) Asian Fusion place next to Ollie's across from Columbia. And giggle we did, very much, and heartily so. Mindy was very nice to give me a ride back to Bronxville -- which she was glad to do 'cause it meant she got to see her old 'hood from the early days of her marriage -- and when I got back I bonded with Rasia and Fritz, the cats with five-letter names.

Wednesday was a short day, and the early part of the schedule was the same as Tuesday's. All that was left was four of the trickiest ones -- including Wound Tight (Judy pronounced "Wound" to rhyme with "tuned") and Absofunkinlutely, and we got them in in record time. Absofunkinlutely had to be saved for last because it is so bass heavy that when Amy ran it on Monday there was no definition in the counterpoint (and yes, dear reader, I am one of those composers who uses counterpoint, which doesn't get me into any bars for free. Yet). So we made it last so that the microphones could be moved closer to get more piano sound as compared to room and echo sound. Meanwhile, I made Flip videos of Absofunkinlutely, Stutter Stab, and Moody's Blues and got Jeanne "d'Arc" Velonis to burn me CDs of the takes I videoed -- those I put together when I got back, and are now the first three in the "New etude YouToobs" page. So when we finished, I simply trained it to Grand Central to Bronxville and drove home, arriving just before 5. We had salmon fillets for dinner, and they were good. And more was yet to come.

For on Friday, Mike and Mary were coming. Mike and Mary who, you might ask, and I would have an answer -- the Gli Uccelli people, getting maried in Breckenridge, Colorado this month, I am writing her some pieces, and Mary got a travel grant to come here, drink beer, and show me the cool stuff she likes to play on flute. So anyway, their plane was late, which meant that it was too late for me to meet them for dinner, but they nonetheless had dinner at Watch City in Waltham, and drove there in their CONVERTIBLE rental -- an upgrade they got because Mike guessed the number of peanuts in a jar at the rental car place. And meanwhile, Beff was in New York for an ACA festival. And by the way, feel free to listen to Mike and Mary (and Nathanael May) doing the premiere of Gli Uccelli, blue link to the left and above.

So in the absence of Beff, it was up to me to drive to their hotel (Homestead, in Hotel Hell in Waltham) to meet them on Saturday and show them the way to Brandeis, where Mike had to practice (the piano). Then Mary and I came to Maynard, with a detour to Staples and Trader Joe's, to make flip videos of the stuff she so digs playing on the flute, piccolo, and alto flute. And by the way, apparently she only owns a piccolo because I wrote for it in Gli Uccelli. Which is totally nutty. So we made our movies, Mary enjoyed the relaxing apparatuses we have, including the Adirondack chairs, gazebo and hammock, and we also took a short bike ride on the Assabet rail trail path. When Mike arrived, convertible (metaphorically) in hand, we went to the Blue Coyote so Mary could have some clam chowder, then did the sightseeing drive -- including Bolton Farms, where I got me some spicy pickles, and they got apple pie, etc. We saw scenic things in Harvard, looked at graveyards, and came home, after which we walked to downtown Maynard for Thai. And Beff got home late that night.

Yesterday was another day, and Mike did some practicing on the Klavinova, Mary ran on the bike path, we had some light lunch, and then they went to do the Transcendentalist tourism day -- the Alcott House, Concord burial ground, Walden Pond, Emerson's house, Hawthorne house, and all that stuff. When they came back, they took the bikes for a short ride, and then had salmon and asparagus and salad and apple pie for dinner. And meanwhile, it has been rather hot. Yes, hot. Yes, yes, HOT.

Today is their last full day here, and the morning is spent with them practicing at Brandeis. I went in to make more movies of Mary -- I had some questions about tongue rams and double tonguing and slap tonguing, and we made movies in Slosberg Hall, Slosberg 212 and Slosberg 227. Later today Beff and I are meeting them in the North End at Forno Antico, where we plan on dinner. We also plan on buying some Amaro in one of the liquor stores, so there, nosy. Tomorrow Mike and Mary leave, and it's on to the next big things. Details shortly. So check out the green "Mary's Demos" link for some excerpts from the movies we made.

Ah. And later this week, some pieces at Mannes, so I'm going back to NYC where I'm bound to bind with the five-letter cats again, as well as their five-letter owners. As I drive back from NYC I will turn fifty. And then there's a big party for Ken's hiring on Saturday, and I go to Italy the following Tuesday. All of which is totally nutty.

And meanwhile, it is now known that I am writing for the North Country Chamber Players, a kid's piece, in Franconia, New Hampshire. Not sure how that's going to take shape, but everything is now in place. Now it's time to think of responding to jazz (Beff thinks it just consists of saying, in an Ed Norton voice, "Hello, jazz!", and so far that's all I've got. But as I point out each of the three or so times per day Beff tells that joke, that's addressing jazz, not responding to it). Ah, to go to Italy to respond to jazz. It's what we do. Oh yes.

I just bicycled to Maynard Door and Window in the HOT to give them the down payment for our new siding, colored Pelican, to be installed in August. We're on our way.

Today's pix begin with an extreme closeup of the some of our pitiful lilac bush from before I went Chicagowards -- all the rest relate to the NYC recording sessions. First, the mike and piano placements, me and Judy Sherman wearing each other on our t-shirts on Tuesday, three shots of Amy in the hall, and the recording setup with Jeanne "d'Arc Nouvelle" Velonis in the green room. Bye.

JUNE 16 update missing

JULY 30. Breakfast was Boca meatless breakfast sausages, orange juice, and candy-flavored coffee ick. Dinner last night was airplane food ( "vegetarian pasta" concoction that seemed to be macaroni and cheese with mushy zucchini skins). Lunch was airplane food (come to think of it, nothing counted as lunch -- I turned down a Swiss Air ice cream packlet). TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 50.2 and 98.8 (about 52 and 102 in Italy). MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The MIDI of the first movement of "Stolen Moments". LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST SIX WEEKS Service fees on Italian ATMs, 1 percent plus $5, service fee to convert Euros to dollars, scrummy Italian foodstuffs and ceramics, $$variable. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In art class in eighth grade, I was a slightly better-than-average student -- Steve Salerno, who was to go into a career in art, always was the cool guy -- but I totally nailed one assignment, which was a drawing of a face in profile. Apparently I did a good nose -- because my grade on the assignment (how can you grade an eighth grader on art??) was A+ double weight -- as in, it was so good it counted twice towards the final grade. That's the only time I ever got that grade, and I have so far resisted the temptation to give that grade to the best of my own students. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They were very glad to see us, and snuggled in bed. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Agrippaly. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST SIXWEEKS: 2 (e-mailed from Italy, of course). FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I never got braces. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Conductors perform for free. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12, 067. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $0, but I did have to pay 30 Euro cents per kilometer when using the Civitella car, or share it; and the cost of gas there now is 1.54 Euros per liter, or around $8 a gallon. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a digital stopwatch that doesn't go beyond one minute, a two and two-thirds foot organ stop, Swiss cheese without holes in it, a disembodied voice that only speaks in riddles.

No nonsense paragraph to begin this update. Flageolet!

I am back from a glorious and glamorous six-week stay at the Civitella Ranieri Foundation in Umbertide, Italy. I am quite pressed for time, since there is much to accomplish -- including mowing all the lawns -- before I head to Vermont for the month of August this afternoon. So I will be uncharacteristically brief.

Civitilla is a one-group-at-a-time residency, meaning everyone comes in at once and leaves at once. In the case of this place, that puts a lot of burden on the staff and the interns to fetch people at airports and bus stations. Indeed, after a 12-hour flying odyssey, it was up to me to a) find Chika Unigwe at the airport, who was also a Fellow (she found me), b) wait two and a half hours for the bus to Perugia, c) find the bus, d) get on the bus, and e) stay on the bus for three and three-quarter hours before being picked up by THE MAN, Diego. Because of the remoteness of the location, others had similarly complicated travel things to sort out. But there we were, in a very beautiful location anchored around a locally well-known 16th century castle with nothing but time to work and time to get over jet lag.

It did help that the food was pretty great -- certainly the best among all the (26) residencies I have done, and considering it's competing with the glory days of Bellagio and Bogliasco, that's saying a lot. In 42 dinners there were no repeats, and the last meal was --- rabbit. Which I found out I don't dislike as much as I thought. There were 5 writers, 3 visual artists and 3 composers, and as soon as we learned each other's names, we did the king of bonding that happens naturally from sharing meals and trips. Oh yes, trips. The Foundation organized several day trips and half-day trips for us to tour parts of Umbria and Tuscany, and the ones I went on included Spello (Pinturicchio exhibit), Bevagna (medieval festival including dinner outside at picnic tables), Deruta (the ceramics capital of Italy), Norcia (truffles, sausage, cheese), Castelluccio (the pian' grande and a big valley of poppies, saffron and violets), and the southern Tuscany trip including Montepulciano, Pienza, and the Barbi winery in Montalcino (free wine tasting including the 2003 Brunello, nothing about which to write home). Klaus came for a weekend, with car, so we also did Assisi and San Marino -- San Marino being a micro-country within Italy, very scenic (I saw the Mediterranean!), and a good chance to get a good pizza.

More importantly, after settling down, everyone seems to have accomplished quite a bit of their own work -- thought the Scrabble contingent was long on influence and short on the ability to get ME to join in. I was on a strict measures-per-day regimen given my deadline (a "responds to jazz" piece for Merkin Hall for next May 30), and some days that took me till dinner and even after dinner. There were also various presentations, and I believe every fellow did one (mine was July 17, and it was the abbreviated piano concerto spiel); they made the end of the work day 5 pm, since they included cocktail receptions and invitations to the locals to come.

So I got there and took two days to get over the jet lag -- arriving Toozday night, and sleeping in on Thursday till noon -- after which point I finally had to start my Merkin Hall piece -- string quartet, woodwind quintet and piano. I had been so busy doing other stuff in June that I hadn't thought of a thing for this piece, and when it was time, I settled down in my studio (the former piggery, which had a bedroom and kitchen as well, and was remote from the castle) and promptly used my head to remove plaster from the walls while I racked (wracked?) my brain for things to do in this piece. So as is my custom, I took the opportunity to write a piano etude, instead (see link below), on a little fading repeated note idea that had been rattling around for a while. That I wrote in two days, and while I was just walking from one end of the studio to another, finally a few ideas for the Merkin Hall piece were in evidence. And on Sunday I started that piece in earnest.

So while there I cranked out 3 movements lasting 18 minutes (fast, slow, tango) and 120 bars of a finale (be-bop, sorta). See the links below. I plan on working on the finale while in Vermont, but there is precious little time to do that there, given my schedule (to Utah Sunday to Thursday) and our entertaining schedule (Hayes and Susan, five days, woo hoo!), etc. And we settled into a routine. Occasional walks into Umbertide for the Wednesday open air markets -- that walk was a half hour, through fields and stuff, and there was precious little shade, and occasional drives to the Co-Op for groceries. Gotta say, the Gouda cheese was quite good, as well as the green plums and the pre-ripe versions of the red plums. Also, I tried out some wine that comes in plastic containers that went for about 2 dollars a liter, and it all sucked.

Lunch was at 1 and served in stacked tin containers that we had to clean out ourselves after eating -- it was called the one thing they did to humble us. And so it did. The other composers were Beth Custer -- who wrote a terrific film score for a 1928 silent film from Georgia (then in the Soviet Union) and was a blonde clarinet player besides (just like another Beth I know) -- and Norio Fukushi, a senior eminence from Japan who nonetheless got into being silly with the rest of us. Norio spoke no English or Italian, so we communicated with our high school French with him -- and he played 3 really cool pieces in his presentation, very nicely scored. Norio also learned how to clap with one hand and to stick things to his forehead (a lot of people learn that when I'm around, it would appear).

In the last week of the residency, spouses and partners were allowed, at their own expense (Civitella paid all my travel. Woo hoo!) and Beff came last Tuesday, getting right into the swing of things. She came on the southern Tuscany wine tour, and then had a combo heat rash with allergy and broke out into some hives on her arms and legs, so we had to stay out of the sun for the last several days. I used that development to stay in the studio and actually work on that finale thing, so we both got plenty of work done. And the last Sunday night, the two Beths played clarinet duets before dinner to rousing applause and scenic surroundings.

We got back after a fairly eventless trip back -- though the really tall thunderstorm packages we flew around were a wonder to behold from 39,000 feet -- and Beff lost her parking voucher in the Rome airport (we think), which meant we paid for 7 days parking instead of 8. We got in last night around 8:45, and I immediately indulged one of the things I missed in Italy -- by getting cheeseburgers at MacDonalds. Which doesn't count as dinner. I then wolfed down some dill pickles. And we did laundry, and showered, and, and ...

Time has run out, as it's time for the post office, pharmacy, mowing, etc. Next update is late August. Be good, and don't eat anything that says "I am random" on it.

The pix are from the Civitella experience, as follows. My studio; the tourist's-eye view of the Civitella castle; the castle viewed from afar (it's at the far left); big fields of sunflowers nearby; a scene from the top of a church in Montepulciano; the piano grande; Chika and Gabeba posing in Norcia; the Tuscany group listening to a talk about Pienza by Nick and Jessica; chicken jugs; and a big church in the main square of Montepulciano. Bye.

AUGUST 26. Breakfast was Boca meatless breakfast wraps (now squarely placed in the eww-why'd-I-buy-these folder), orange juice, and coffee. Dinner was delivery "rustic" pizza from Papa Gino's (Domino's left the buildin'). Lunch was half a Subway roast beef sub. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 47.8 and 86.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS First edit of "Crazy Eights", a white key/black key, all-in-octaves etude. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST FOUR WEEKS Gasoline, cost of renovations in Maine, anniversary dinner with Hayes and Susan ($250) and a bottle of 2001 Brunello ($70). POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I spent just a few weeks on the track team in high school my sophomore year, having worked a bit on the high jump (I sucked, but so did everyone else in my high school) and the 100-yard dash. I competed in precisely one race in a heat of the 100-yard dash, and came in third in my heat, clocking in at 12.3 seconds. Good for a football player, not as good for a short-distance runner. I didn't do the high jump. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 1. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They didn't sleep on the bed much in Vermont, but certainly do here in Maynard. And Cammy had a proclivity for sitting on the music I was writing, while I was trying to write it. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Home, Compositions, Bio. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Pisenello, an obscure northern Italian word referring to pea-shaped objects that lack a soul but have purpleness to spare. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST FOUR WEEKS: 6. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I got my first drivers license in graduate school, and took the test in a Karmann Ghia. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: "Respectful" political campaigns. Ooh, ooh, and CNN and Fox News never got off the drawing board. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,400. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS MONTH: $3.99 in Maynard, $3.82 in Burlington, $3.59 in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the white space in both O's of the word "BOO" wherever it is found in graffiti, the last bite of a popsicle that is about to melt off the stick, the abstract quality of purpleness, four of the things that you said you'd never pay for.

Without mustard, the world would turn in the other direction, and you know what that would do for the angst deeply rooted in squirrels. Yes, and in fact, without a doubt, flashlight humor is making a comeback wherever Woody Woodpecker memorabilia are sold -- so we took a side trip to some tree bark. But of course, when I say that, what I really mean is the opposite of the same thing as the opposite of a cigarette. So when duty calls, my head goes in every direction at once.

As I am wont to say, I am back! Between June 17 and yesterday I had spent no more than 18 hours in this house (which is now a different color -- look at "Our House" on this site in a few days for new pictures), 45 minutes of it typing right here, dear reader, for your reading pleasure, or the opposite of it. And it's what they call in Italy "fresca" outside -- kinda makes me want to drink a grapefruit and lemony fizzy beverage. I am resisting the urge to do so.

So at the last update Beff and I had just returned from Italy and were Vermont-bound and gagged. Beff actually had to go to U Maine first to do her "I am Beff and I play the clarinet, tee hee" show for the U Maine summer high school camp, so I took the cats and my stuff and established a beachhead at the place in Vermont, and I only say "beachhead" because I love words with double h's in them that aren't onomatopeoia. The cats were glad that when they were released from their confinement, they were in a familiar place, and they immediately lobbied -- and lobbied hard -- for cat treats. Which they got Oscar, they got. I set up my computer, verified the wi-fi network, and got a-crackin'. Actually, I didn't -- for I was near the beginning of the finale of my responds-to-jazz piece (wherein the strings had just entered after a long opening piano solo -- ooohh, I do SO rock) and there was no piano keyboard on which to write. Beff had to fetch it from the house in Bangor. So in the first few days I did some bike rides, gave treats to the cats, and jumped up, down, and sideways.

Soon Beff was to arrive with all the requisite accoutrements, and it got juicy and rainy -- which was just depressing, BUT -- I got to work on my piece, and soon I wrote a rockout fugato for the strings. And then I had to go to Utah. For you see, I am beginning a five-year term on the Advisory Board of the Barlow Foundation, and they meet for 3-1/2 days every year at the beginning of August to award the Barlow Prize in Composition and the Barlow Foundation commissions. I pledged secrecy for the deliberations and the process, so none of that will go here. But I can testify that all those involved in the (very grueling) days of meetings were put up at a ski resort outside of Provo called Snowbird, we were given one-bedroom apartments (two rooms each -- I had 703 and 704 -- since some of the grunt work was done in the rooms, the large amount of space was necessary), and we were fed at the resort's restaurants 3 meals a day. Which got to be a bit much, since there was always lots of food no matter where we went. In any case -- I did not know that the last-day meeting was so short. And since I had chosen Jet Blue as my carrier (it goes to Burlington AND to Salt Lake City -- did I mention Utah?), which had no afternoon departures to New York, just a redeye, I ended up with a lot of time to kill after the last meeting. So I took a tram up from the lodge (elevation 7900 feet) to the top mountain (elevation 11,000 feet), got nice views, had lunch, walked around, took a shuttle to the airport, and killed seven hours there. Wow.

Being that Snowbird is at high altitude, I had the usual sorts of altitude things that we sea-levelers get, especially sinus headaches and mild vertigo. All was well after I left. The flying itself on Jet Blue was fine, no bad turbulence or nuthin', and some of the views were spectacular -- and it was quite impressive that, given how much rain there's been in these parts this summer, I spied no cloud between Pennsylvania and the Utah-Colorado border. Jet Blue itself, though, was a different story. Apparently they are building a new terminal for themselves, but for now an old terminal is being used that screams "the year is 1972!" which is far too small for the number of people using it, and -- get this -- some of the flights leave from a remote location that screams "the year is 1962 and this is where we load all the cargo!" to which you have to take a shuttle bus from the, um, main terminal. Add to it that it takes 45 minutes from leaving the gate to takeoff (JFK, dontcha k now), and I was pretty much ready never to return to this abysmal airline. Though since they said a brand new sparkling terminal of their own was to be in evidence by October, I might do them once more again. Unless, of course, they stop flying to Burlington.

Nonetheless -- it was raining when I left Burlington and raining when I returned. By then Beff was in full swing at the Vermont Youth Orchestra Summer Spectacular, and I had a Burger King lunch on my drive back from the airport. The two are not related. So our Vermont time began in earnest, and I got back to work on my piece. As a sidebar, the flutist (flautist if you are a snobberitiousness) for my responds-to-jazz piece was teaching at the VYO camp (and she has a name! Jennifer Grim!) and came to the place one night and I made chicken.

And then Hayes and Susan came for five lovely days, much of it spent saying "bummer about the rain, huh?". Hayes had just finished a piece for an August 23 performance, and he spent the beginning of his residency chez DavyBeff extracting and printing parts (and drinking orange juice) -- after which we went Stapleswards, had parts and scores printed, and off we went post officeward for the Express Mail part of our program. After which we bought chicken. It wasn't all beezness, though --- we did do a shopping trip in downtown Burlington followed by dinner at Leunig's (our treat), another dinner at Smokejack's (their treat), and a field trip to Middlebury for the Morgan Horse farm run by the U of Vermont -- which included a visit to the Otter Creek Brewery (I got a t-shirt, and so did Hayes) and lunch in downtown Middlebury, and the Visit To The Crafts Store That Would Not End. We also took a sunset cruise on Lake Champlain, on which we rode on the outdoor part and got waitress service for dinner, etc. Ironically, there were spectacular sunsets nearly every night where we were ensconced, but the sunset on sunset cruise night was quite ordinary. Try saying that five times fast. Also, there were some scenic bike rides that did not include me -- since there were only 3 usable bikes in evidence.

And then I went back to work on my piece, with my composing board and my "Mikey paper", on the single bed in the lower level of the summer place. And when Cammy felt needy, he would up and sit on my piece. What a catty thing to do. I was on a strict 32-bar-per-day regimen (with half note at 132-144, that was actually not all that much music, unless you're silly), and I mostly stuck to it. MEANWHILE -- Beff finally got appointed -- after several false upbeats -- interim Chair of her department, which carries a ball and chain for a two-year sentence, and that meant a trip to Maine for Chair stuff and a Chairs "retreat" (I guess Chairs are expected to act French -- rim shot), and it also means that as I type, she is on her way there to meet with new students AS THEY ARRIVE rather than after.

So finally it dried up for the last week, and many bike rides were in evidence after Beff got back, and we didn't leave the compound (or the simple) very much. And finally last Saturday I finished the piece, gave it a few final touches, backed it up, jumped up, down, and sideways, and ... started doing the parts. My favorite part of finishing a piece. That continues right now -- three done, seven to go. But of course, the day job is shortly to kick in as well, and two short days from now I'll be imparting the Brandeis experience to at least 41 students. For those looking on, I'm not only the Piano Etude guy, I'm also the Balances Piano Bench On Head guy. But not till it's been earned. As to the responds-to-jazz piece, it is called Stolen Moments, and you, dear reader, may view all 4 movements of its 25-minutesness in the "SM" links leftwards, and hear MIDI of 3 of the movements just below them.

Oh yes, and as I forgetted to have been mentioning -- the first edits to Etudes Vol. 3 are already in. They arrived while I was ensconced in a begins-with-vowel state (the first thing to be delivered to that place's mailbox by the USPS in 2 years), and I spent rather a long time listening to the edits for mistakes and the like (my list is about 55 of them), and Amy hasn't heard them yet because she's Down Under until the beginning of next month. I'm not offering any of them up here because, well, because I'm just not.

Meantime, while we were gone those four weeks, our house was getting a new look. We got tired of the old green and white aluminum siding that looked dirty and was impossible to clean in the front, so we got MDAW to take the old siding off and install new siding while we were gone. Due to the "bummer about the rain" nature of this summer, the siding did not get put on fully until the end of last week, and now they are painting the trim (hence my pictures would include ladders and scaffolds and painters, oh my), so it's the "Our House" link that will be updated when appropriate. MWA ha ha, even though the situation doesn't at all call for diabolical laughter. Now by our third day in Vermont, the answering machine stopped picking up, so we wondered if a big thunderstorm had killed the electricity, so we asked the MDAW to check, and all was normal. So we figgered the answering machine was verplunkt and Verizon voice mail was picking up messages -- which we had no idea how to retrieve. Beff came through here for an eye appointment a week ago yesterday, and confirmed a suspicion that dawned on me just before she left: when the old siding was removed, a wire may have been cut, thus there was no phone service, hence no answering machine picking up. Currently I am waiting for Verizon to ficks it, and the window for when they may arrive just began. Do windows have beginnings and endings?

This morning I produced a full size score of Stolen Moments to send to Yehudi, since it's dedicated to him at 80 (not till next June 1), went to Great Cuts for a haircut, got breakfast stuff at Donelan's, got mailing bags at Staples, got limes at Trader Joe's because I forgot to do that at Donelan's, and mailed the package to Yehudi. Wow! And even before all of that happened, the painters arrived, and have been at elevated locations speaking to each other in French. The irony may just be that neither of them speaks French, and they are just doing it for fun. Or perhaps they are trying to have a retreat.

Non sequitur and potpourri paragraph: Beff heard at the VYO camp a viola joke that I'd never heard before. There's a change for the better. Oh, and our last full day in Vermont featured a cameo appearance by my 60-yr-old brother, his wife, and his son. I grilled stuff. For the salmon, I used an aioli that I learned to make on the internet, and that I made for the very first time. Our quince bush has usually only produced 2 or 3 fruits per year, but it's got like 100 of them. Global warming? Or rainy summer? Travel for me this upcoming academic year? New York, New Haven, Cleveland, Fredonia (NY), Champaign/Urbana. So there.

Lots of pictures today, including some more from Italy, which predates this update. ITALY: the valley below Assisi, viewed from Assisi; animals in Montepulciano; a church ceiling outside Montepulciano; old Roman amphitheater in Gubbio; "Barrels" of wine at the Barbi winery in Montalcino; Mt. Etna viewed from Pienza; medieval church stuff in Pienza. UTAH: valley in which Salt Lake City lies viewed from the Snowbird tram. VERMONT: typical sunset; Morgan horse riding demo; Beff n Susan n Hayes on the sunset cruise, way before sunset; Cammy being needy on my responds-to-jazz piece. MAYNARD: our house in its underwear.

SEPTEMBER 9. Breakfast was Boca breakfast sausages, coffee, and orange juice. Dinner last night was macaroni and cheese microwave edition. Lunch was a 2-slice special at Cappy's. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 53.2 and 86.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Pedal to the Metal", the pedaling etude. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST FOUR WEEKS The balance for the work putting on new siding. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I blossomed early enough as a trombonist (now there's a metaphor I never want to use again) to be sent, in sixth grade, to the high school district music festival at BFA. I played second trombone parts, and never gave them back. Somehow I obtained a reel-to-reel of the final concert, and I delighted in playing it back and playing along on second trombone. I'm sure it drove my mother crazy. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Not so much cute as gross. Sunny threw up on the kitchen floor last night and in the master bedroom this morning. Time to change their water. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: Bio, Performances, Recordings, Home, Bio. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: crink -- not the foreshortened version of the word "crinkle", as many would presume (watch your false cognates, people), and not onomatopoeia, either. It's a Norse word and no one has any idea what it meant, or even if that's the right spelling. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 7. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I once owned a 1976 VW Rabbit in a color we called "puke green". WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Voters are not stupid. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,411. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS MONTH: $3.59 in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a small bit of fake transsubstantiation, a gravy train lacking wheels, the thirst that only those who are thirsty will ever know, an old recording of "The Miraculous Mandarin" on vinyl that's being reused as a peanut serving tray.

We only spell "insouicance" that way because of the cartoon. If I were to start mesmerizing, there would normally be a plate in the destiny of hopelessness, and when five of us accumulate in that direction, there can't be any bicycles without refrigeration. So of course we dance. After the pallbearers have passed through, remind me to give my opinion of the grass on my back, because then we'll have to make pie.

The ground has been hit running, to put that old tired phrase in the passive voice. When last we virtually spoke, finishing touches had been put on the new siding, painters were a-painting, and I was extracting parts to Stolen Moments. Which we all know and love as Davy's responds-to-jazz piece that was my summer project. I'm pleased to report that the parts all got extracted, printed and bound, and were sent to Merkin Hall the Friday of Labor Day weekend, and it was just in time to be frolicsome with Beff for the weekend. In the context of a couple of political conventions, of course.

All that was choresome for me to do over that week (choresome?) was mowing of the lawn, and of course exercising by riding the bike (after several months of no use, my tires needed inflating, but oddly, Beff's did not). And, of course, cooking. Lurching spectacularly, I return to the last coupla weeks of our time in Vermont, where we normally got marinated salmon about every third day for me to grill for dinner. But we had discovered a garlic aioli (apparently, since aioli is a combination of words that mean garlic and oil, that would be redundant, but that's okay, because I delight in long parenthetical digressions) at Stop and Shop nearby that was really tasty on salmon. And so my quest to find said aioli in Burlington was thwarted. Uh, by the, uh, lack of there being any of that ... well, you get the idea (here's another pointless parenthetical digression). So, to create a verb where none previously existed, I internetted, and found a few recipes online. Which contradicted each other. So I went for the one that prescribed an egg, a cup of olive oil, a tablespoon of dijon mustard, and thou. I whipped it up good (I must whip it), and kept adding stuff -- salt, pepper, more dijon mustard, more dijon mustard, more dijon mustard, more dijon mustard -- and eventually I got enough tastiness to fill a 16-ounce jar that once held hamburger dill pickles. And it lasted a week, and didn't cost 6 bucks like it does at Stop and Shop. And as you may have guessed, we had plenty of salmon that week. Including that last Sunday when my bro', sis-in-law, and nephew came for dinner. By the way, my nephew is on the football team of my high school. Bitchin.

So that week before Labor Day, Beff was in Maine yet again, a-chairin' and a-greetin' the incoming students, while I was busy carpal tunneling my parts. The piano part has so much STUFF in it that I decided to make it an 11x14 part -- thus adding the burden of trimming tabloid paper, AND doing a fancy schmancy binding combo. And then just when doing the parts bored me (and you) out of my mind ... in walked Beff. And we weekended -- which included the first time we'd seen Big Mike (ka-ching!) since last May. Yes, and lurching non sequiturwards once again, Mike came over that Saturday night, and we walked to the Cast Iron Kitchen restaurant -- which has taken the place of the now defunct Quarterdeck. Big Mike is a beezy bee over at WPI, with plenty of impressive-sounding responsibility (eww, I say). And he got the macaroni and cheese. I got the ziti, thus pulling ahead in the shortest-food-name competition. And I forget what Beff got, because obviously I won the shortest-name competition. As well as the latest-in-the-alphabet competition.

And then Beff returned to Maine on Labor Day, noting the tremendous traffic in Maine going in the not direction of her. But here I lurch once more because -- yes, on the Thursday before Labor Day we had school, and my body readjusted to the 6:00 alarm by wide-awaking me at 5:45. I drove to the 'deis and parked legally, got a parking ticket (the parking gestapo is clueless on the first week of school), held a session of Fundamentals by giving a "test you should fail to stay in this class", went to the first Faculty Senate meeting, and then finally made it to the meet-and-greet first music dept. gathering of the year in the courtyard next to Slosberg. And there they all were -- the new, old, and slightly tarnished graduate students! And two of the incoming composers actually studied with me last year (I wanted to put scare quotes around "studied" (like I just did (right there)), but I resisted, dear reader). So I told my Italy stories (well, not stories, just .. "Oh, Italy. It was fun."), and Michele -- who is from Italy -- made fun of my Italian accent.

So lurching, lurching. The day after Labor Day was spent first with a teeth cleaning, and then making a buttload of handouts and uploading them to various webspaces for the classes I'm teaching. And the whole department started getting stressed by the explosion of students taking music courses. To wit. Theory 1 had 34 last fall, and I taught them all. It had 51 enrolled. Fundamentals, which I am teaching, and which had 34 last time I taught it, AND which had 25 last year, had 45. Intro to Composition had 6 last year and 19 this year. So the wondering of if we can ask for adjuncts was a-goin' on, and meanwhile, the beezness of teaching happened. I started the official teaching of fundamentals while there were too few desk chairs in the classroom, and got all cosmic in Theory 2 (only 12 students) about K. 488. Hegelian dialectic, people. On Wednesday there were 45 enrolled for Fundamentals. On Thursday there were 55 (it must have gotten around that I played a vibraslap in class). So on that day we split the class into 3 sections for TAs to teach rhythm and ear training, and the small classrooms into which the sections went ... were, of course, too small. So the old arguments from upstairs about how music courses attract too few students -- got dusted.

Meantime, of course, Beff got back Thursday night, and we relaxed as much as possible. Friday we did a bike ride and a downtown walk, where we stopped in at Door and Window with dog bones (and left without them) -- Steve came over for the job-done-walkthrough, and we showed him what was still undone: utilities boxes not connected to the house, two broken windows, pencil marks still on the corner PVC, a strange place where some indoor porch siding was taken off but not replaced -- and we asked for a new door on the porch. What we DIDN'T expect was for workmen to show up at 7:59 Saturday morning -- on a day Tropical Storm Hanna was forecast to pass through -- to do some of that work. Sigh. So, bathrobed, I pointed to what had to be fixed, they borrowed some bleach (not a non sequitur), I went to Stop and Shop for salmon for dinner (now THAT was a non sequitur), and ... well, it was very, very juicy that day. So we stayed in the air conditioned rooms and internetted. And had salmon with (commercial) lemon pepper aioli for dinner. Sunday we bike rode, walked a bit, watched the Monster road race go by, and Beff went back to Maine.

Meanwhile, we acted out the saga of the iPod Touch. This is long, so either skip a few paragraphs, dear reader, or get a beer. Welcome back. Beff, by the way, has an iPod Touch as a perk of her chairmanship, and that means it's no longer necessary for her to get an iPhone when our Verizon contracts are up next month -- since the Touch does wi-fi, and whatever new phone she gets will only need to access e-mail on a G3 network, whatever the heck that is. Same here, I think. Plus, it appears Verizon is way better in Maine than is AT&T, which you have to get to use the iPhone. Well, so ... the Touch had been acting up a little this summer, when I used it. It was too complicated to get it to work on the Civitella wi-fi, which had a slew of passwords and proxies to use (Diego had to make appointments with all of us to set up our internet access, and multiple times because of a big hail storm), so I only looked at a few pictures, etc. But I did notice that once in a while it would just be dead when I tried to wake it up, even though I hadn't used it. It charged it fine, though.

I had it with me in the Salt Lake City airport, and given that I had 7 hours to kill, I took it out once in a while and did some of the "free" wi-fi they have there. At one point, though, the iPod simply froze, and after about five minutes I cold-restarted it. When it came back up, there was no wi-fi -- in "Settings" wi-fi was grayed out, with the words "No Wi-Fi." Hmm. Back in Vermont, I charged it fully, and by the next morning, with my not having used it, it was dead. Charged again, dead again the next morning. SO, since it was still under warranty, I waited till we got back to Maynard to find the original receipt for repair. And the day before classes started, Beff found me the "2007 taxes" box from the attic, which I spent a long time searching through -- twice -- to no avail for the receipt. Much too late, I had a d'oh! moment -- these were the 2006 taxe receipts, for the return filed in 2007. There was ANOTHER box in the attic labeled "2007 taxes" which was correctly for the 2007 tax year, and ... found it. Went to the Apple repair place in West Concord, who said look online since we don't do iPods. Sigh.

Online I went. I had registered the iPod, so it knew about it, I explained "no wifi, goes dead in a day", and then it needed my credit card to charge $31. Which was odd, considering it was STILL UNDER WARRANTY. So I called Apple, and was told it's free to return a defective iPod after six months, but shipping charges apply for the next six months of the warranty. WTF? WTF? Instead, I registered it under AppleCare, got a free box next day to send it to Apple, got an e-mail very quickly -- actually, got three of them spaced 62 minutes apart -- saying "Your 'dead' iPod is fine. Nothing wrong. Reinstalled system software, are returning it." It came the next day while I was out, and I had to wait until the day after Labor Day for another delivery. So I charged it, and ... huh, wi-fi was just fine. And it held a charge for more than a week while I using it sporadically. So ... lesson is that something in the iPod Touch software can cause it to lose wifi and drain the battery. Be careful!

Over this last weekend, Beff and I were both using our Touches with our wifi, and now that there is an "App Store" on the Touch, we downloaded some free applications -- NONE of which worked on the iPod Touch. So, why bother? And the users manual is now one of the bookmarks in Safari, so I used it to find out how to delete applications. When you do that, all the icons shimmy, and that may be the first time I've used that verb in one of these updates.

And then yesterday. Back to the routine. Played the piano with an orange in Fundamentals, and got even more cosmic in Theory 2. Meantime: I got back on Facebook after a 9-month hiatus, and all my stuff was still there. Rediscovered how very addictive it is. And today, well, today, I have to remember how to teach mode mixture in theory, and find a few good examples to pass out. Because it is what I do.

Meantime, I noticed that the Marine Band had posted mp3s of their premiere of "Cantina" from last march. See the magenta link to the left. I had also noticed that Bridge's "Americans in Rome" 4-CD spectacularanza was posted on their site, sans ordering info, but you know, there it is. And then I finally flipped over the "performances" thing and put in what I know about this coming year. I confirmed that I'd be doing a colloquium at Yale next month, and will probably go to NYC the weekend before that, and blah blah blah and exactly two cats named Sunset and Camden.

And of course, I got worked up over the Republicans, etc., so I am trying, with little success, not to get more worked up about them. Both names of the VP candidate have five letters.

This Thursday the School of Creative Arts barbecue happens right on schedule, and as usual I am a guest burger-flipper. I have brought my chefs hat and "Two Fat Ladies" apron to school to be used for said occasion, which will be one of two things bringing me to the 'deis on Thursday. The other is a faculty meeting. Also during my time at Brandeis I was reminded that I am on the docket to write some incidental music for the April production of Hecuba, and I finally was given a copy of the play to read. Who reads plays? Why isn't it on YouTube? But that's something entirely different. As with The Bacchae, faculty and students are giving the play a new translation, and as before, the sound design grad student who was in one of my classes will be recording the music and using it in the production.

On top of all that -- I'll also be thinking about the flute etudes for the former Mary Fukushima, now Mary Kirkendoll, and about a piece for the North Country Chamber Players in New Hampshire; here I will be working with Marie Harris, whom I have so far only met on e-mail. That one can't be started until I know for what instruments I'm writing. So there. And this weekend, the cats get their rabies booster shots, always a fun thing both for us and for them.

I had a few pictures on my camera that I thought might go below here, but this morning in my morning stupor after copying the folder from the card to the computer, I mistakenly dragged the folder into the trash instead of the card icon. Hmm, Apple has to work on that "trash dragging" metaphor. Carp. So instead, some house pictures and some pictures from Vermont. So we have a sunset viewed through a glass, that same Morgan horse picture, Cammy viewing from his perch, the back yard, the new steps, and the house number before it was reattached. Bye.

SEPTEMBER 23. Breakfast was Boca breakfast sausages, coffee, and orange juice. Dinner last night was a hot dog and a Boca sausage thing -- to get rid of the hot dog buns, after scraping off a little blue. Lunch was the 2-slice special at Cappy's. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 37.8 and 78.3. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The Schumann setting of Mondnacht. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST FOUR WEEKS Two bottles of Brunello, $115. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: After getting German measles my junior year in high school, I couldn't eat anything for about a month and a half. I remember going to a holiday party and being given half a tomato sandwich. I took one bite, and was full. By the time I started eating again, I weighed less than a hundred pounds. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: With the down quilt back on the bed, Cammy now sleeps right next to my shoulder. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: Home, Performances, Recordings, Reviews 4. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: slitch -- one of them in time only saves seven, so apparently it was version 0.8 of "stitch". RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 5. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE My eighth grade basketball coach called me "Rake". WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Free money for rich people who gambled and lost other people's money on bad mortgages. Oh wait, that's already a trend. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,476. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS MONTH: $3.49 and $3.53 in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE any quantity of igneous rock, a Post-It with the phone number of a person long since fogotten, the place where you put your happy thoughts, a proton that suddenly got big enough to be seen with the naked eye.

The fence, if literally interpreted, could bring down fire and marshmallows on the cat that saved his chicken for a tree. But without it, I wouldn't suspect that twelve of them would have had any iron. Of course, though, if we use a double sharp, we may have to reserve the barbecue for the gerbil run in 1972, which would be hilarious. And it's not just battery life I'm talking about here.

More of the ground being hit running has happened, and this time in the passive voice. The unusually and spectacularly large classes now operating in the music department continue to be unusually and spectacularly large, with the thankful exception of Theory 2, which is at an even dozen. Fundamentals, though, has 56 students. Now that the first three assigned homeworks for Fundamentals have come in, I can verify without self-doubt that doing all that grading is mind-numbing and head-exploding. Not as bad as last year when I had to grade species counterpoint exercises for Theory 1 from 34 students, spent from 9 to 3 in the gazebo grading them and realized I'd hardly made a dent, but still ... as I actually tell the class, I grade 15 assignments, my head explodes, I put it back together, do another 15, etc. Counting up and listening through the many versions of major and minor scales in every homework is fairly boring, but it's what I do in order to have the experience. Of head explodingness, that is.

The much grading now required of me has forced an improvement in time management over here, and so far I'm a-stickin' to the plan: do grading as soon as I get home from work, and have it all done as soon as possible so that the rest of the day is free for working or for squandering. Squander is a funny word. I mean, just look at it.

Besides the muchness of grading -- and muchness of repetition of grading -- plenty of things have happened here, and not all of them use the letter "f". But don't think less of them because of that. As I brought up in the last update, I rejoined Facebook and found it addictive. It was like grabbing the brass ring, or not, since all my old files and list of friends from last November were still there. And I decided to play it cool, mostly, and not issue new Friend Invites -- except to a few of the Civitella Ranieri people. Nonetheless, I have doubled my number of friends in the last two weeks, which is not impressive, since several of said friends have as many as five times as many friends as I currently do. Facebook also has a popup chat mode, and I conversed with Amy B (fka Amy D) about her upcomings, including the tango project, the light at the end of the tunnel of which is visible. Also on Facebook, I uploaded Civitella photae, Bogliasco photae, and ACA photae. I believe said photo albums may even be public, dunno.

So THIS morning I finished all my grading, for both courses, by about 10:45, so I was able to get to this computer to write this dull as nails prose in plenty of time. My plan for this afternoon now that it is totally free: squander it. Because it's such a funny word. In fact, this may turn into an afternoon of funny words. But don't ... snitch ... on me, okay? Hee hee hee.

Much else besides Facebooking, and turning nouns into verbs, has happened in the last coupla weeks. First, Beff was in Maine for all of last weekend due to her Cadenzato obligatoriationnesses, not to mention a bit of Chairy stuff, and she left early the weekend prior so that she could -- at least once -- observe the marching band in full battle array. She actually Skyped me from that event, and was far enough away from a wi-fi source that the display updated 0.20 frames per second, but it was cute. I did actually hear music that sounded underwater. Yesterday was Beff's birthday, and it was even splayed on New Music Box (she shares the date with Mark "Mark" Kilstofte). My contribution to the whole affair was to Flip Video both of my classes wishing her happy birthday and e-mail her the video. Both of them came off as silly, as well you might expect. Beff's imminent return is not as imminent as usual -- Saturday instead of Thursday -- but I plan doing a red wine worthy dinner accompanied by some Brunello from very good years. After which we will go to sleep. And then, many hours later, wake up.

One thing of surpassing silliness that happened was my discovery, via John Mackey's blog, of . It puts your face from a photo you supply onto stock yearbook type images from 1956 to 2000. It was recommended you don't do it with your cat, so I did it with a kitten picture of Cammy.

Call me Martler

Definitely giggle-worthy, and I'm easily able to imagine the ludicrous attack ad the McCain campaign would come up with to criticize me for doing that with Cammy's face. Sorry, "ludicrous attack ad" is redundant in the context of "the McCain campaign". My bad.

So the Geoffy experience, mega-edition, also happened, as Geoff was in town for several days not once, but twice, both using the wi-fi and the piano, and doing dinner. He took us out to the Cast Iron Kitchen, I made salmon aioli one night, and there were a few breakfasts on my non-teaching days. He also dropped his new CD with Matt Haimovitz, which is bitchin. He was on the Ditson Contemporary Music Festival last weekend not once, but twice. But here I will have to add some detail about ME. It turns out -- based on circumstantial evidence, I'm rich, and not just because I'm a part owner of a big insurance company.

After I was done at school last Wednesday, I removed my shoes and changed into shorts and flip flops because it was nice and warm out. My right foot started hurting right at that point, around the big toe. Wednesday night I actually didn't sleep much because of shooting pain in the toe. On Thursday I had to go into Brandeis to substitute in a TA section that had been left empty because the student teaching it withdrew from the program -- I woke up with a bit of a limp, but was able to get my sneakers on, and I did the section. THEN I drove into Boston to NEC, where Collage was rehearsing my "Imaginary Dances", an overwritten and dense piece that is 22 years old that I never imagined would still be having performances in the 21st century (this was its second in this century). The piece was sounding good, I saw Yehudi, who had a rehearsal just before me, and I drove back home. And I was limping. That night I went to the Neighborhood Pizzeria for dinner, and had to park some ways away, making the limp even more noticeable and the distance feel like even farther.

So Friday I got up with more limp-y pain in the foot, and couldn't manage to get a sneaker on it, since it was so painful. So sigh, I went to my health care provider in Wellesley -- interesting, since I had to use the bad foot to accelerate and brake, and it was a 40-minute drive -- where the doctor knew right away what the problem was. I thought it was a strangely pinched nerve that needed chiropracty (is that a word?), but it turns out it was gout. Yes, the rich man's disease. So I was given a prescription of little green pills to take with food, and was sent on my way -- and yes, you know somebody in this room is going to do some things in more moderation, and Jack left town.

But that night was the night of the Ditson Festival where my piece was being done. So when I got back I relaxed on the hammock for a while, and the foot flared up in pain and I briefly considered not going. But, I sucked it up, left early, put a slipper on my right foot and a sneaker on my left, drove to the waterfront, since the concerts were at the ICA, and I ate at a little seafood place next door. The clam chowder was great. Then I up and limped to the ICA, bought a ticket for the 6:30 Dinosaur Annex concert and got freebies for the 8:00 Collage/Cantata Singers concert, and, well, there it was. I saw Kate Desjardins there (odd since she lives in Chicago) as well as a lot of the usual suspect, and Fred Lerdahl, too. All of whom asked about the slipper, and all of whom were given the lowdown. Yehudi informed me that the pills work very fast (he turned out to be right), but not within 6 hours. The Dino concert was nifty, featuring pieces with actual senses of humor, but also featuring a family that made a show of walking out during the last piece and making lots of noise in the process. And the hall sounded dry because a lot of black curtains had been set up to make the venue seem smaller.

For the Collage/Cantata Singers concert, the curtains were taken away, and a full view of the harbor, and a spectacular one at that, was in evidence. Collage played really great, and my piece sounded good (except for the fact that it was, like, that piece), and the Cantata Singers brought back a few memories with their performance of Irving Fine music. O know to end as to begin, and all that. So when all was done, I limped to my car, having the ability mostly to avoid people who would feel obligated to say something nice, and drove home. Being as I was on a strict every 6 hour regimen for the little green pills, I set my alarm, did the pills, etc. And strangely enough, the foot was a lot better by Sunday afternoon. Still, I didn't go to the rest of the Ditson concerts, but they must have been really good.

So endeth the gout saga for now. Yehudi made sure to advise me to keep the leftover green pills in case it happened again. Okay, Yehudi.

The week, before, though, was an advanced exercise in time management. Since Beff had left early for the marching band observation, Sunday was free for writing, and so I went rhought all the Mary Kirkendoll flute movies she made here back in June, and started a flute etude for her using tongue rams and beat boxing in moderation. (The red "Mary" link above will remind you of those movies, evident here last June) With writing all day Sunday, and then all day Tuesday (my new time management skills gave me all of Tuesday to work because my grading was accomplished Monday evening), I finished an etude which was three and a half pages in Mikey paper score. Entered into Finale, it came out to eight pages, and I finished entering the notes Friday morning during throbbing time for my toe. I consider it a draft, since I've asked Mary to look it over, etc., and she's about to embark upon her honeymoonness. But YOU, dear reader, may take a gander by clicking on the "Flootood 1" link up there on the left.

And what's left? According to the McCain campaign, it's the press. Rim shot. But, well, and ... well, tomorrow is an Arts Convivium where a bunch of Brandeis faculty and administration get together for mid-price wine and expensive crackers and not-yet-gone-by fruit and esoteric cheese and then listen to a few faculty talk about what they've been doing lately. I am such a faculty for tomorrow's edition, so I'm looking forward to the mid-price wine. And then I have the week after this one more or less off because of holidays and calendar adjustments, so I'm planning on embarking on at least two etudes: the prog rock etude suggested so long ago by Rick Moody and discussed at length during the Mega Geoffy Experience; and another one, possibly the one with toy piano.

Not many pictures taken this last coupla weeks, so I up and went outdoors this morning for some new ones. But first, some older ones. When fishing out manuscript paper for the flootood, I discovered an old sheet from 2003 at Yaddo and a false start on etude #58 -- as you may know, the etude rule is no revision, just restarting, so when this opening sucked, I did what I did with all such false beginnings. To its right, see the flootood on its way. Kinda. Then a coupla obligatory cat pix, quince on the bush, shrooms, the former apple tree, and the electricity meter STILL not reconnected to the house since the siding job was done.

OCTOBER 4 (with a little added OCTOBER 5). Breakfast was bacon, egg and cheese sandwiches, potato pancakes, orange juice and coffee. Dinner last night was a Hot Pockets "Bruschetta Chicken Panini," which turned out to be more like mush surrounding refried beans surrounding two little chunks of dry chicken -- not to be purchased again. Lunch was two Boca Italian sausage sandwiches with mustard and hot sauce. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 38.7 and 73.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Berceuse", etude no. 87. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Two bottles of 1999 Brunello, $98. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I have precisely one baseball hero story in my arsenal, and it's doozylike. I was a member of the Cardinals in Little League, at age 12, and we played six-inning games in a four-team league. My second year on the Cardinals was interrupted by two or three weeks at home with my first serious asthma. After I returned I saw spotty service, but I did get put into a game as the second baseman, and it was tied after six innings. In the bottom of the seventh, I was first up, and I hit a bloop single just over the second baseman's head. My coach advised against trying to steal a base, but on the second pitch, I ran for second, and the throw from the catcher sailed into center field. So I ran to third, where the throw from the center fielder went towards the dugout. So I ran to home, and we won. And oddly, after I scored I saw that the coach was a nervous wreck. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny is becoming progressively more vocal, and sometimes he does the silent meow thing. And Cammy has taken up a perch in the attic overlooking the back yard. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: Bio, Compositions, Performances, Recordings. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: tursch -- an ancient contraction of turf and mensch, although it remains obscure to this day what it was intended to mean. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 6. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE When I was a kid, I had a "Thingmaker" which used "plastigoop" in molds to make, well, things -- mostly rubberish insects. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Instant rewind where Karl Rove politics never existed. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,503. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS MONTH: $3.45 in Maynard, though I see it for $3.35 now. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a cherry without a stone, a forgotten rerun of The Love Boat, several suggestions for how to improve the flow of sludge between your fingers, the shape of your mouth when you think about the color red.

There's a parting coming, and it's not going to be governed by how we move our knees. For you see, after the fox makes fried chicken, we have to tell the people in charge of refrigeration how to make their flashlights warmer, and without that precondition we could take the saw and force it into the tree. But perhaps I have gone too far. Nonetheless, there aren't more than seventeen people in the world with a direct knowledge of medieval potty training.

Dear reader, plenty has transpired since the last update, and this update is actually a little early. I am on the deathly ill side due to having caught Geoffy's cold, which is at the phlegmification stage wherein talking is not a viable option and honey and lemon (called "remedy" by me 'n' Beff) in hot water is a staple. Nonetheless, there was plenty of health of which to speak before all of this, and I'm sure plenty of health out there in front of me. Indeed, so much work has gotten done that I'm taking the day off (today is Saturday, and what it is, too), beginning with an update. Though my schedule will clump pretty dramatically starting next week.

When last we spoke (figuratively), I was about to embark on a "prog rock" etude at the behest of Rick Moody and with input from Geoffy. That embarkment happened, shortly after I finished typing the update, and continued throughout that day. The next day, Wednesday, was a big teaching day with a convivium (we pronounced the v's as w's for almost three seconds of complete hilarity) in the late afternoon in the Slosberg lobby. Four of us went on about ourselves, including me, and we all went on too long. Though it was good to have Wayne there to demonstrate "beatboxing", something that goes on to a small degree in the flutudes I am writing. Did I mention the flutudes? Well, not yet, because last time I was calling them flootoods. I'm much better now. Anyway, before the conwiwium (another two seconds of total hilarity there, n'est-ce pas? -- that's French) I managed to get all of my Music 5 grading done so I wouldn't have to bring it home for my felicitously timed holidays. Thus I came back from Slosberg with only Music 103 homework to grade.

So.

During the summer I received an e-mail from Jenny Chai, an excellent pianist doing a graduate degree in modern music performance at the Manhattan School of Music, asking for program notes for an Italian radio broadcast with her playing my E-Machines. She said she had done it in New York last February, which was news to me -- as was this Italian radio broadcast. We've kept on an e-mail correspondence, and during this last reporting period, she sent me a DVD of the February recital. I was able to extract the performance of E-Machines and stick it on YouTube, a nice blue link down to the left, and I can report that she is learning a bunch of Catalogue d'Oiseaux for a big performance at the Chelsea Art Museum later this month (the 23rd, I think).

With the Rosh Hashanah holiday at Brandeis and a Tuesday schedule taking place on Monday, I effectively had the week off, which I used to my advantage. Geoffy was here for some of it, as he had a Musica Viva gig this week, and both Geoff and Beff were here for a small part of the weekend -- Beff not getting here until Saturday because She Is The Chair. Meaning on Saturday I made some nice beef kebabs from Whole Paycheck and we washed it down with some nice 2000 Brunello. And Sunday we had chicken and Pinot Grigio, I do believest. Then Beff went back very early Monday morning, and returned Wednesday evening. And why Wednesday? To drive to Philadelphia for a conference Thursday morning, silly. I mean, really. No, really. So Geoffy was here that evening, and we did salmon (because he was too sick to go out) aioli with 1999 Brunello, very tasty, very rich and complex. The wine, that is. And so Beff got up at 4:45 Thursday morning and got to Philly for lunch, having driven the entire way. Today she gets back in time for a late dinner. We will have salmon aioli and 1999 Brunello.

Meanwhile, Geoffy has been around all week, too, occasionally using the piano to practice, occasionally practicing at Brandeis, and of course rehearsing. Because his job at Hunter College also gives him Rosh Hashanah off. But also plenty of e-mail to answer. So while all this was going on, I wrote three piano etudes and a flute etude, now called a flutude. Which gives me two. But lemme splain.

The Prog Rock etude, #86, as I noted earlier, was started on Tuesday by virtue of my getting my Mus 5 grading out of the way early, and I made substantial progress on it. Then I spent all Thursday and Friday on it, and part of Saturday, finishing the inputting by the time Beff arrived. Geoffy and I listened and marveled at the MIDI of it, and Geoffy suggested something that I incorporated: repeat the opening riff more times with an option to add transpositions and riffs over it -- also in the recapitulation, which I did. He plans to premiere the sucker in Canada in February and give the American premiere at Hunter College on the 26th of March, dear reader, should you be in New York. I also ran it by Rick, who was somewhat astonished that his offhand suggestion got turned into an actual etude. He got ELP from the beginning (all those sus-4 chords), and Geoff's suggestion of a block structure (like most prog rock) also kinda got incorporated. And the last bar is simply a repeat of a much earlier bar because, well, because, as a prog rocker, I can. It's the only etude with "pretentious" in the tempo marking (well, so far). When I had described this project in the conwiwium (two more seconds of hilarity there), one participant told me after, "one thing you neglected to say about prog rock -- it seems much longer than it actually is." Well said, said well, conwiwium guy.

After that was said, done, said some more, and done, Beff got in, we did the married couple thing for a day and a half (while a hurricane passed due west of us), and off she went on Monday. At which point I took out the old Jaymar toy piano that Beff bought at a flea market years 'n' years ago (I also have a Schoenhut in my office and Geoffy has my other Jaymar in New York for Cage performances) and embarked on a five-finger etude berceuse. For you see, when Rick Moody told me that he and his Amy were expecting, I promised to write him a berceuse before the expected was actual. It turns out he had no idea what a berceuse is, which would explain his lack of response. So in any case, I decided to make this one, #87 the ONE in Book 9 that I can play, and for that I turned to Stravinsky. Uh, because he's got a bunch of five-finger etudes. And I made up some weird five-finger positions (cross your fingers is more like it) for something quasi-but-not-quite octatonic and in 7 but not in 7, etc. and sent it to Rick and Amy. Since the MIDI would have sucked (the five-finger positions being actual notes in it), Geoff read through it on the Jaymar from a sitting position and we YouTubed it. To do that, first Geoff had to get a spider out of the cushions I imported from the porch, and in the video itself, Sunny makes a cute cameo appearance near the end. Rick said he framed it, which is cool. And Amy told him what a berceuse is.

AND THEN, and then, and then. Time for another flutude, the ideas for which started popping, popcorn-like, into my head as I was waking up on Tuesday morning. So on Tuesday and Wednesday I finally did the keyslap etude for Mary, and it turned out just fine. In this case, the key slaps are contrasted with tongue pizzicatos, with lots of double tonguing (Mary likes to double tongue), and it seems like a show stopper or a gob stopper, or something with a lot of vowels or consonants or diphthongs in it. Mary is still on her mieleluna (the Italian-but-not-Italian for honeymoon), so when she's back she'll comment on both flutudes. And by the way, as was the original intent, I called this one Slap Happy, and came up with a name for the first one on tongue rams: Ram Tough. Because I am Joe Six-Pack sher yabetcha get back to ya on that looking backwards. That one was actually quite complicated to put into Finale, what with all the extra notation frills, but I diddit, yes sir. Good thing, too, because that night in came Beff for salmon, etc., as detailed above. And by the way, you can still see a bit of Mary's demos by clicking on the red Mary K link up and to the left.

So Thursday it was time for another long-considered etude, the one with toy piano. The hardest part of this piece was the title, and believe me, I went through every possible pun with toy and boy and tri and tie, and came up with the title TOYED TOGETHER. For you see, it's the piano TOGETHER with the toy piano. Well, it's what I could do on short notice. And yes, there's a lot of unison between the two hands on the different pianos (Davy steals from his piano concerto), but some actual counterpoint, and a few other screws and nuts and whistles and bells and what have you. It occurred to me afterwards that the opening faux-blues licky stuff may be related to a synthesizer solo in a tune by the Brand New Heavies, but then again, I could be wrong. I could only call the lick to mind, but not the rest of the song. And so, last night, I had entered the entire piece, sent it to a few people, and ... I'm bushed! Dear reader, you may view scores, etc. in the links to the left.

Meanwhile, on Thursday, that sickness that Geoff had started to be a gift I received from him. Scratchy throat, coughy, no runny nose or nuthin', but it's definitely one of those things where not talking is much preferred to talking. I've been doing much honey and lemon in hot water, and it kinda helps, but it's a little addictive. Also CVS tropical fruit soothing vapor drops and honey and lemon drops, and it's all just so complicated. Unfortunately, I'll probably be just fine by the time teaching up and starts up again. And all I have to do between then and now is grade Theory 2 homeworks.

But wait, there seems to be more. Last night I was a little perturbed about the smell of maybe diesel fuel or heating oil around here, and we get that smell once in a while. It was definitely noticeable overnight, but I thought it was going away. This morning I got up before Geoffy and noticed the smell was still around but not evident in my basement (where the furnace and oil tank are), so I thought less of it. And as I, bathrobed, was making us the complicated breakfast with which this update begins, I called in Sunny from outside, and noticed the smell stronger, looked at the furnace chimney, and spied thick white smoke coming out. Turns out the smoke was actually black, and the white was some steam ... nonetheless, the furnace was coming on once in a while because it also heats the water in the hot water tank, and I went downstairs to look, and a bunch of smoke/steam came from various apparati when the furnace kicked in, and the thick smoke kept coming out, so, sigh ... after eating my lovely complex breakfast I called Dunn Oil's emergency line (we have a maintenance agreement), and the technician who lives just around the corner called, I turned said furnace off, and as I type this he is working on it. The latest is that it was clogged (duh), he's cleaning it out, and he'll have news once there is news. Poop. Whoops, I too soon spoke. Blockage in the chimney, is cleaned out, investigation happening as to the cause, but it doesn't look expensive. So for the moment, lots of smoke in the house, smoke detectors going off occasionally, and all the windows, and front door, open. And I am slowly getting black lung. Or maybe whitish-black lung. UPDATE OCTOBER 5: the technician said the problem with clogging was due to a faulty nozzle, presumably the same nozzle he installed during routine maintenance last February. New nozzle installed.

My schedule reclumps after Monday, so the next update should be about on time, around Tuesday the 21st. Two days before my Yale colloquium. And what else is new? Not so much. I really am sort of composed out (which is a pun if you've taken Schenkerian theory or sat in a grad seminar where people try to sound impressive about stuff they know nothing about, which is redundant), so I am grateful not to have any really, really pressing piece to write. Though ... and as was brought up by my collaborators in the conwiwium ... I have to write a bunch of incidental music for the spring production of Hecuba and get the tracks laid down in Jan or Feb. -- but that's quick stuff. Plus, apparently, some of the chorus part will have to be set to be sung, and that's my job, too ... And, sigh, I have itsy bitsy ideas for a third flutude. Possibly soon to become bigsy wigsy ideas. Other pieces hang in the balance, which just goes to show you.

Today's pictures begin with two photos from a picture Ken took of me in April '06. The rest were taken with the little white Sony camera that's been laying around unused since the spring, using its ISO no-flash mode, which seems to be the default. So we have the piece furniture in the dining room showing the chicken jug, the obligatory cat photo, the two-keyboard setup for the composition of #88, Geoffy reading the Globe in the morning, the prog rock etude in progress, and a bigass piece of lasagna from Whole Foods defrosting in the kitchen. Bye.

OCTOBER 19. Breakfast was bacon, egg and cheese sandwiches, potato pancakes, orange juice and coffee. Dinner last night was salmon with lemon pepper aioli, broccoli, salad, and a red wine from the Barbi winery. Lunch was chicken sausage with peppers from Whole Foods. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 32.7 and 70.9. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Ladder of Escape, for 12 bass clarinets, by Michael Smetanin. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS My yearly cheapo percussion instruments from Musician's Friend, $99.97. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I played on our elementary school soccer team when I was in eighth grade at the very persistent badgering of its coach, also the Phys Ed instructor. I played left wing, and scored 4 goals in a 10-game schedule, including a goal in our first game about 5 seconds in. We won that game 1-0. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny came in one afternoon obviously after rooting around somewhere and was gray with dirtiness. And of course, they both sleep on the bed in the bedroom now. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: cremolion, with the stress on the second syllable; an ancient mead-based concoction used to flavor sausages. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 9. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I can crack either thumb knuckle at will. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: This never-ending political campaign is finally over. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,569. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.89 in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a ticket stub from a Red Sox game that was postponed due to rain, something that feels nice until you open your eyes, kitty litter that stuck to your cat's butt, a positive test for funkiness, twelve rocks that together can predict the future, an adverb that looks like a clock.

Into the brim went my flashlight, but I was able to retrieve some cat hair by asking it a rude question. So, rhetorically speaking, why didn't I wait until the barn had some games for me to play when I could have been the mushroom that makes the world tick? It's all well and blue, but without it I doubt that my stop sign would have cared for a truffle. So I guess we'll have to eat out.

Dear reader, much has transpired since the Oct 4/5 update, not much of it terribly interesting, but occasionally strangely mesmerizing, or not. Brandeis has continued to have vacation days, but this time on days I don't teach, and thankfully it gave me slightly more time for various busy work, including grading of the usual voluminous pile of homework. There was also some uncharacteristic warmth at times that made outdoor activities not only possible, but exceedingly fun. But maybe I am getting ahead of myself, which in five dimensions can be proved possible.

First, during the sunny and warm that preceded the last few days here, time was spent in the hammock, and time was spent actually doing work, or not, in the gazebo. And yes, it is much nicer grading a pile of 50 Fundamentals homeworks in the gazebo than not. Other time not spent with egregious BrandX paperwork was spent doing the sort of obsessive yard work I like to do -- uproot ailanthuses, trim bits of shrubs, remove viny plants. And I prepared ye the way of the Leaves. For you see, we have a nice place in the far corner of our far back yard to dump the leaves we rake; that involved a lot of uprooting, reconfiguring of various large dead branches we've stuck there, and generally widening the two entrances into said space.

And of course, the furnace issue was solved, though as usual, the guy who did it said the furnace's connection to the chimney has to be redone, and the office would call soon to set up an appointment for someone there to come and do it. He said that last February, too, when he installed the faulty nozzle that was causing the smokiness anyway. So it looks like it's up to me to take some initiative and walk over to Dunn Oil and all that stuff. For the record, heating season is under way, but last night was only the second time the heat has been on -- two weeks ago being the first time. And it hasn't gotten below freezing yet, so that warmth of the last coupla weeks can NOT be called Indian summer. I'm a purist when it comes to such things. Or something that rhymes with purist. It's still warm enough that the heat goes off before it reaches the upstairs radiators.

Besides doing my regular teaching, coming in for a department meeting and a faculty senate meeting (in whichI talked more than in my entire two previous years on the faculty senate -- in the discussion about whether to have a regular teaching day on Labor Day in exchange for the day before Thanksgiving being an off day, I said I'm willing to teach as long as the senate equates having a barbecue with teaching, big pause, rim shot). Meanwhile, the economy is kinda in the toilet, which means that the situation at my place of employment will follow suit. But that's not a situation for right here. But for now, no searches, no adjunct hiring, 20% cuts across the board, etc.

Brandeis gets a bazillion days off in the fall, but NOT Columbus Day. Which of course means Beff was at home last Monday while I was at Brandeis. And it being a holiday for everywhere else in the world (though I gotta admit I liked the very light traffic going to and from Brandeis), it was an Open House day at the 'Deis. Both my classes had spectators -- the holidays meaning a third of my Fundamentals class was missing, thus opening enough desks for parents and prospective students to sit. And in Theory 2 we looked at a Chopin Nocturne chosen by a class member, and guests outnumbered students by a not insignificant margin. I alas showed that the high point was at the Fibonacci point, which either excited, bored, or confused onlookers. We then tried to harmonize tunes from Mozart's clarinet concerto, which as usual ends up showing that what Mozart did was way better, and a good reason he is now dead. And for the record -- after tormenting Fundamentals with intervals and transposing instruments, I have moved on to triads, which given that I'm teaching lead sheet AND figured bass notation is more complicated than you might imagine.

So Beff and I got to have nice cooked dinners for more days than is usual, and I didn't have to spend as much attention with the cat litter. Cool. Meanwhile, the toilet in the place in Bangor had become something of a rocking chair, according to Beff, which led to much wringing of hands and gnashing of teeth and advice from others about how toilets that sweat in the summer eventually soften floorboards, and remedies include quick fix locally and possibly the floor of the entire bathroom for enough money to buy a horse. So Beff got her usual guy in to look at it, and he had a novel solution: he tightened the bolts. Charge to us $50.

The long weekend was also our weekend to upgrade our cell phones. Last time we got different phones, ordered online, and shipped here. This time Beff did lots of research, had wanted an iPhone but saw that there's not much of a G3 AT&T network in Maine yet, so she settled on the Verizon Voyager, which we liked because it opens up to a full keyboard, has both cursor and touch screen functions on both the outside and inside screens, AND can retrieve our e-mail without the benefit of wi-fi. After looking up Verizon outlets online, we first went to Best Buy, where they didn't have any of them in stock, so off we went to BJ's, right across the street, and we did all the paperwork, including upgrading to unlimited internet, etc., including GPS software that is included in the plans we got. So we played and played, I bought some ringtones (Beff's characteristic tone when she calls is Funky Cow), we got data cards, took pictures, etc. And on Columbus Day when I brought my phone back out to use it it misbehaved -- no matter what I did it defaulted to Voice Command mode, and then timed out. And though I could make a call, I could not be heard on the other end. So another trip to BJ's was in order, and I've now got a working Voyager. And it's cool. Though not iPhone cool. On the other hand, the Voyager works full speed in Maine. So there.

So then this week Beff got in on Friday, and Ecce was doing my Hyperblue in Worcester at Clark College that night and Seunghee asked for a ride to the concert. So after Beff pulled in, we up and got Seunghee at South Acton and drove into Worcester. Where we encountered big time traffic in a few places and, of course, got lost following the Google Maps maps. Luckily, our Garmin got us where we wanted to go, though it still doesn't stay affixed to the windowshield. So after some dramatic moves, we parked on the Clark campus and went to the music building -- which turned out to be locked. I had to call John Aylward -- thankfully programmed into my Voyager -- to find out where in the 30 or so buildings of Clark the concert might be (since our e-vite only said the concert was at Clark University (not College?)). And then a piano trio put on a very diverse concert with every possible combination except solo cello. James Wiznerowicz, whom I know from the Atlantic Center 2005, was there, since they were doing a piece of his, and he's now ensconced in academic weirdness like the rest of us are, and his piece had a pretty strong profile (though it could have lapsed into the Mickey Mouse Club theme at any time, and I would have if it were my piece). The Garmin got us back out of there, and then we were home.

I was to go to NYC yesterday for the repeat of the concert, but decided against it, since I didn't have a place to stay in Manhattan (and didn't want to burden Hayes and Susan) and thus would have had to drive back the same night. So instead, we succumbed to the beginning of raking season. The trees are far from bare, but still at only half-undressed there were plenty of leaves, and starting yesterday morning and going sporadically until noon today, we raked, barreled, and carted away 35 barrels of leaves. That's about a third of a typical year's haul, but of course we can't do much more until the trees yield the rest of their leaves. So it was a very refreshing and exhilarating time gathering up all the leaves, and it gave us much aerobic exercise. The kind of aerobic exercise that doesn't come in packages or bags.

This week in academics is more on triads, and more weird chromatic harmony stuff in theory 2. And of course, much going into the gazebo with thick piles of grading. On Thursday I do a colloquium at Yale, the materials for which I am getting together this weekend. And then this coming weekend will be more raking, one must presume. I yearn for another fall like fall 2000, which had a windstorm severe enough to blow all the leaves away and leave me with virtually no raking. What else upcoming? Amy B should be marking up the first edits of Etudes Vol. 3, finally, and soon I expect some first edits of my BMOP CD. How soon one doesn't know, but I'm told that one is scheduled to drop on January 2.

So lots of foliage and stuff to share this week. Below, in order: two foliage pictures from the nearby Delaney Nature Preserve, a bit of the back yard, the outside viewed from the bedroom, foliage along the Assabet River, Beff barreling in the driveway, the porch door with foliage reflections, and Dirty Sunny having treats. Bye.

NOVEMBER 2. Breakfast was rice link sausages with 2% cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was reception food. Lunch was a large Boca burger. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 26.4 and 66.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Sweet and Lovely" from the Let It Be album by the Beatles. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Lunch at the Blue Coyote while the house was being cleaned, lunch at the Cast Iron Kitchen with Beff, $25 cab from the hospital. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: During the height of my fontmaking period -- the academic year 1991-2 -- I put a whole bunch of crap-me-up fonts on Compuserve as shareware with silly Readme files and a suggestion to make a donation to Columbia Composers. I made the mistake in one of them of promising to send a disc with MORE fonts if you gave ten bucks and included a postcard that said "Tell Davy about me! Foop!" All these years later that looks even dumber than it did then. In any case, for a year I accumulated 4 or 5 of those a month; and I would make the floppies and send them out. Beff and I got to calling the people who actually responded "Foopers." NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Not so cute really, the THIRD chipmunk of the year got carried into the house by Sunny yesterday, and I found out it's a lot more strenuous trying to get a chipmunk out of the house than it is to rake leaves. Story below. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Bio, Home, Performances, Recordings. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: gordle -- an antiquated accessory for pants that was popular for about a decade in the seventeenth century. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: at least 25. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I am current with the complete Peanuts series (up to 1970). I plan on stopping around 1974, when Peppermint Patty lurched the strip into profound unfunniness. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Free garlic for everybody. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,593. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.39 in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a vintage poster from the Monterey Pop Festival, a painting of a mushroom, conceptual disdain, a pair of tweezers that's been stuck under the radiator, memories of times that never existed, a 1960s elementary school science textbook, a rock that you got for Halloween, the sound of your lips when they glow.

The widgets found themselves without representation. This precipated a crisis of spoonliness, soon to be called "the big thing", and after it all came to naught, three of them had to go to the bathroom. Perhaps we can learn from this, but without blue pencils in the other room, I can't see where the insects got hidden. So I celebrate my scream, I callibrate my dream, and I cerebrate my stream. Would you have thought I was trying to make an apple with my bare teeth if I had memorized something else?

A casual reader called the first paragraph of these humble little essays "Dada". I had to look it up.

Today being Daylight Savings day, I seem to have an extra hour to do things, which seems like a good idea. Though waking up and starting my day at 6:15 certainly is a startling thing to tell myself. I've done the breakfast thing, let Sunny out and back in, and am still wearing glasses, as last night was contact night. That reminds me. Perhsps it's time on to put the contacts lenses. 'scuse me.

I'm back, thus once again illustrating, in a most tragic way, the distinction between real time and virtual time. You can tell I'm stalling, can't you?

Well, this being October and now late November, it's foliage season followed by too much raking season, and indeed, I've been stiff the last day or day and a half. We do have those three big maples by the driveway and three maples in the front yard that bless us with their offcastings early, followed by a large oak tree in the neighbor's yard that lags by 2 or 3 weeks. That tree is still mainly foliage-intact, but the maples are pretty much bare by now. So for a significant portion of the last three weekends, Beff and I have been a-rakin' and a-barrelin' away. Truly, the act of raking makes one more folksy, by default. After the 25 barrels along the front yard and driveway of a coupla weeks ago, there was more issue at issue last weekend, and this weekend we moved to the back yard and the side yard, and a little of the way back. There is no longer a big apple tree to trouble us with 8 barrels of rotten apples, but for some reason the quince bush gave us about 75 quinces this year, in contrast to the usual 2 or 3. Fascinating. So with the 12 barrels I raked by the side of the house and in the far back yesterday, the total barrelage so far is 85. Looks like a fecund year, since I expect at least another 20 or 25 once the rest of the trees have yielded their issue.

And it's been a fairly bright year for foliage, as witnessed by the last update's shots from the Delaney Preserve, but even moreso, the oak tree -- which usually just goes brown -- is a fairly bright orange this year. Apparently the wet summer weather has something to do with that, but you'd have to ask a weather person why.

Teaching has gone as it should, which means rockin'. Triad stuff in Fundamentals gets toward its heavy side, and the planned textbook program of chromatic harmony in Theory 2 has run its course. People either love or hate the common-tone diminished seventh chord, but I love it. And it was a nice upbeat to "piece of the class's choosing" this week, which was the Quintet in C of Schubert. Yes, that was a pretty complex day in Theory 2, since it was, indeed, a complex piece with a lot to look at, and dagnabbit, I wish the dude could have gotten over his chromatic mediant relationship fetish, 'cause repeated listenings on the same day kinda made me seasick. Insert C-sick pun here, but E-flat is where it takes you. This being Schubert, and chromatic mediant, and all that. Though the quintet made a nice sort of upbeat into the Op. 94 A-flat Moment Musical of Wednesday's lecture, that being a piece with aa rogue E-natural that resolves oddly and infects (and inflects -- I know my advanced theory lingo) the rest of the piece.

So for whatever reason -- raking being added to the mix, probably -- the perceived rate of time passing has shifted considerably the last two weeks. The first five or six weeks of the term veritably flew right by. The last two weeks went at a crawl. At a crawl, I tell you. So right now I've got signposts (virtual ones, or metaphorical ones, if you will) to get me to the end of the term: first, it's a relaxing Thanksgiving with Hayes and Susan (three and a half weeks), then the last day of classes for me (December 8), and then ... oh crap, I have a ton of incidental music to write for Hecuba then. But they are signposts.

But wait, there's more. There actually was some excitement around here last week that involved me, and it involved me (by definition). Last Wednesday night I felt feverish, so I went bedwards quite early. I shivered for the first minute or so, but settled in. Eventually I got abdominal cramps on my left side (right side if you are facing me), and I took my temperature -- 103. I took aspirin and took the temperature again -- 102.3. So with abdominal pain and a high fever, I figured it was emergency room time! I up and called 911 (I hardly ever get to do that without people looking at me funny, or thinking about arresting me), got some local Maynard fire and police people here (who smelled the gas oven in a way that we don't because we're used to it) and they ferried me to Emerson Hospital emergency room in Concord. Whee! I was in a stretcher (called that because it ... stretches?) and got to do the cool thing where they lift me and slide me onto a little bed in the hospital. Whee!

Anyway, I was asked all kinds of questions, the silliest of which was "on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being hardly any and 10 being a lot, how much pain do you have?" I said 5. So a nurse took about six gallons of blood, an IV was set up, and I was told to drink this weird-tasting stuff mixed with cranberry juice over the course of an hour and a half, in fifteen-minute increments. If you've ever drunk a 32-ounce thing of cranberry juice in that amount of time, you can probably imagine how, um, pressing, the need for a rest room becomes. Anyway. After that hour and a half, and by now it was 12:45 am, I got wheeled into the CT scan room, where a recorded voice told me how and when to breathe, and I got positioned mechanically while other people stayed away. Then I was wheeled back and ignored for a while, and finally around 1:40 in came a doctor straight out of a Marcus Welby episode to say, "you have diverticulitis. And now give it up for my assistant!", a nurse who gave me some antibiotics, a prescription, and a folksy chat about what foods cause diverticulitis. Apparently, broccoli florets -- which Beff and I have a LOT on weekends -- is one of them. I also got a color printout with pictures, and, of course, two blank pages, because carriage returns do that, and hospital personnel don't understand a lot about desktop publishing. The "carrots have fiber" paragraph had a helpful cartoon of a carrot.

Then came the realization -- I got ambulanced here, not to mention, I created a verb where none had previously existed. So they called the ONE cab company in the area that will do a pickup at 2 in the morning, and I waited around. And waited. Saw a whole Simpsons episode in the waiting room. And I got picked up at 2:30 and delivered at 2:40. The problem with the driver was that -- well, that he's the kind of guy who drives a cab at 2:30 at night.

The next morning, during the traditional Cammy-nuzzle, I had to choose whether or not to follow through on the Yale colloquium for which I was booked that day. So, getting out of bed, OW with the groin, but after walking around just a bit, it felt fine, if a bit awkward. I fed the cats, tried walking some more, and drove to CVS to fill the prescription. Note to self: even though CVS lists its hours on its website as opening at 7, the pharmacy waits until 8 to open. I filled the prescription, had one last chance to cancel, and didn't. So around 9 I drove to New Haven, presuming I'd get in around 11:30. I was to meet Kathy Alexander at 11:45 for lunch.

And of course, I got in about 11 and parked, and walked around New Haven a bit, and it was COLD. So I went back to the car, started the heater, and sat for 20 minutes. Then I called Kathy, we rendezvoused, had a nice conversation, and went to the nearby faculty club for lunch. Others were there, including Chris Theofanidis -- a REALLY nice guy I hadn't seen since New Years 1999 in Rome -- and Ingram Marshall (last encounter St. Luke's Second Helpings in 2005, on which day I met Michael Lipsey to see his hand drums), Michael Klingbeil (totally cool), Ed Altri. I got the blandest meal possible (remember: diverticulitis), and took a nap until my 2:30 show. At the show I did my piano concerto spiel -- seven etudes that went into the piece and then the piece itself, along with stories and various jokes, and then there was a bunch of good questions (hard ones, too, alas), especially from Chris. Ingram was totally cool (he also admired my shirt, made by Moose Pond, and he couldn't believe I got it at TJ Maxx). I was delighted that the students were so nice, and receptive -- at my last Yale colloquium 5 years ago they just kind of stared -- and of course, the faculty was cool, too. Michael and Kathy got me to my car and on the road, and I got back in the dark, took my antibiotics, and went to bed.

Friday was finally my stay-in-bed day. I still had the abdominal pain, but the leg cramp was less so, and it was good to be in bed. Beff got back late that night, and of course on Saturday we raked. Mostly, driveway stuff, which was quite a few barrels. By the way, THIS weekend, during which Beff had to go back Mainewards early in order to see the pep band at a football game (I hated being Chair), we finished up the driveway -- again -- and did the back yard, which was actually quite a few barrels of leaves. On Friday we walked to the Cast Iron Kitchen -- which occupies the former Quarterdeck restaurant space -- and had a nice lunch. Last night was a nice Brandeis composer concert, after which I took the LAST of my antibiotics. And today is my first non-antibiotics day in ten days. Perhaps this is why the last two weeks have progressed at a crawl.

Yesterday Beff had to go to Maine early (as detailed), but since it was mild out, we left the downstairs bathroom window open for the cats to go in and out at will. It's a big jump in or out. Just before Beff left, I heard Sunny in the master bedroom and a squeaking sound -- he had brought in a chipmunk, and why he always brings it to the bedroom is beyond me. So, sigh. I opened windows in the room, and propped open the front door so the chipmunk could escape by running downstairs, seeing daylight, and going for it. After 10 minutes of chasing the chipmunk around the various cubbies in the bedroom, I could not see it any more, and neither could Sunny. So the windows got closed again, front door closed, 'cause it must have escaped. Beff left for Maine. Hour and a half later, I was on the computer and heard the squeaking in the bedroom again. Crap. Little chipmunk turds were on a windowsill, and it must have climbed a curtain and hid behind it. So, I closed the door, opened all four windows, and for 25 minutes Sunny and I chased it around the room, in my case, trying to get it to find a window and jump. No deal. Sigh. So I opened the front door again and the bedroom door, and the chipmunk escaped! But ignored the front door and went behind the pump organ. Sigh. So I opened the nearby window and tried to get it to notice, and Sunny chased it into the living room. Big sigh again. After much more chasing, it finally found the door, and out it went. No more open window privileges, Mr. Sunny. Um, especially since it's cold.

This week, the "Americans in Rome" CD on Bridge (9271) dropped. It's a 4-CD extravaganza with my "For Wittgenstein" on it. I got a copy to send to Joe Duemer (the poet), one for the music department, one for the Provost (who is supposed to get copies of faculty research), one for me, and one for the little boy who lives in the lane. I also rediscovered that there are currently 113 downloadable tracks on iTunes if you search for me as composer (112 for Bernstein --ha!), but there is one more track of E-Machines that does not have a composer listed -- it's Steve Gosling's recording on the AME label. Since I never got a copy of the AME CD (and indeed, my name was left off of the cover), I downloaded that track. Rocking is done by it. As to other CDs -- well, the BMOP CD hopefully before the snow melts, and similar with Etudes Vol. 3.

Oh, I have another reason these times have gone slowly. Suddenly I was deluged with requests for letters, many of them job-related, and I am usually pretty quick with those things. And the mondo-Guggenheim letter pile has yet to materialize, alas. So those letter-requesters who may be reading this: of the last 100 or so letters I've written that require me mailing something to somewhere, precisely two have had postage paid by the requesters. For those of you playing along at home, that's $41.18 of my own money spent on other peoples' packages. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's less than a bottle of 1999 Brunello.

So more with triads coming up in Fundamentals -- Roman numerals in 4-part writing, etc. -- and it's the chorale writing unit in Theory 2, which is, I fear, very tedious to teach and tediouser still to grade. Well, it was either chorale writing or species counterpoint in 3 parts, and that leads to addiction, I fear.

So again -- my personal signpost for the future is Thanksgiving, Hayes, Susan. Turkey, pie, and sitting on a couch. Well, and the BMOP concert a week from Friday with Marty Boykan's violin concerto.

This week's pix start with the cats -- Cammy checking out the back yard (note the former apple tree) and Sunny checking out a sleeping bag. Followed by Summer Hill viewed from the front door, foliage in the context of the gazebo top, and two shots toward the usually brown oak tree. Bye.

NOVEMBER 16. Breakfast was bacon, egg and cheese sandwiches with home fries, blackberries,orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was tomato, pickle and pepperoncini sandwiches with cheese. Dinner last night was salmon with sun-dried tomato aioli, garlic mash, and asparagus. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 23.2 and 67.3. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS It's a Long Way to Tipperary. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS BMOP ticket $52, parking $34, new sneakers $64. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In my junior year in high school, we did a band and chorus exchange with a high school in Scarborough, Ontario. There was no choral arrangement of the Canadian national anthem available, so Mrs. Costes, the director, charged me with doing one. I had just kinda figured out secondary dominants, so I did the unthinkable near the end: for "O Canada, Glorious and Free", where the last syllable of "Canada" is sustained, I instead had the note move, mid-syllable, up a half step to fit in the secondary dominant. We actually sang it that way, and nobody hated us. And I got very slightly tingly. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: While we were raking last weekend, I tossed a small stone into a stand of pine trees so I wouldn't have to rake it, and Sunny chased after it, got excited, and ran up one of the pine trees about 13 or 14 feet. He couldn't get down, so of course, we had to get the ladder out to bring him down. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: shimastu -- an old colloquiual expression from southern Portugal that, as far as anyone can tell, meant repeat three times and spin. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 11. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE There are always at least five different brands or kinds of dill pickles in the house. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Serial music replaces punk at clubs, and atonal composers pierce their noses de rigeur. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,630. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.09 in Maynard at Jimmy's Garage yesterday. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE So long, fucker.

Immediately, or so they say, the tent that we had been folding, spoke and revealed a truth about its inner kneecap. The twelve of us (ten, if you count in Burmese) couldn't make syrup without our spoons because they told us a stone had to be thrown toward the capital of Post-Its. Bummer. So when we tried to color in the tooth mark, the nozzle came after us and made us think of things to turn upside down. On that day, my face was red enough to turn all of Manhattan into a flower box. I'm not lying.

The big news of the last two weeks, and of course the biggest news in about seven years happened during this reporting period, and I'm sure our gentle readers know that to which I refer. I voted at the appointed place and time on Election Day, having voted for a Presidential winner for the first time since 1996, the winning Massachusetts state senator (ironically also the losing last president I voted for), and I voted with the mob on the three ballot initiatives. Being a dyed-in-the-wool liberal and having been incredibly offended by the robocall and guilt-by-association horse manure slopped at us by the red people, I nonetheless have been conditioned to expect Democrats to lose because ... well, it's what happens. But finally good things happened, and I got caught up in the history and emotion of the moment just as much as anyone else. And now --- when I see commentators on television remarking at what a great president we currently have, I no longer feel the impulse to yell at the screen and throw spareribs at it (especially since that would mean going out and doing a shop). And that's a good thing. And I'm pleased to know for certain that Africa is a continent -- sorry Sarah, it's one of the OTHER A-continents, Australia, that is both a continent and a country. You'll get the home version of our game.

Even with all that political stuff going on, strangely enough, I did my job spantorifically, and of course, in spare time, raked leaves. The week of the election featured a homework due from Fundamentals that was kind of an apotheosis of triad, key and function together, and of course that meant the process of grading it -- 50 of them -- was about as soul-sucking a task I ever get in the academic year. Chairmanship being the only thing that is more egregious in that regard. Grading became a bit like that for Theory 2 as well, but there are a lot fewer in that class. And in the spare time, yes, there was raking, whenever possible. I noticed that when both Beff and I rake and barrel and discard that it goes almost exactly twice as fast. And I hate it when I rake an area clean and it gets schmutzy with new issue so quickly -- as happened in the oak tree area in back of the garage, of course. So this (strangely mild) weekend I had mostly redundant raking to do, with far greater bits of yard to rake to get similar volume of leaves to discard, and ... yesterday, finally, we both decided the year's raking had been finished. Grand total: 116 barrels, a new record.

So the "I can't come to your concert because I have to rake leaves" excuse has expired. Here I come, world!

The other two EOUS's (events of unusual size) in this reporting period involved public performances, one of them also involving parking and eating out. So first with the one that was farther west.

The Brandeis student theater collective (which is big enough to have "timpanium" in its name) just put on a run of the musical Gypsy -- sorry, I'm not historical musicals guy, but I did suspect the music was by Julie Styne (both names five letters) and Beff correctly placed the lyicist as Stephen Sondheim (who was hired because his name almost rhymed with Styne). Plenty of music students had roles in the production, including on stage, in tech, or in the pit band -- and I had managed to loan the students involved a train whistle, a bird whistle, and a slide whistle. It's none of your business, dear reader, why I have one of each. I had also been asked by the director to do a cameo on one show of the multi-show run of Mr. Goldstone, a booking agent who gets food thrown at him on stage and has no lines. And that I did. Scott Edmiston and the guy who works in the post office in Usdan were other specimens of Mr. Goldstone, and I was only onstage for about 3 minutes. I wore some fake coke-bottle glasses and did my best mugging, and that performance was just a few hours before this posting. So there was a Wednesday night runthrough for all the Goldstones, and today's performance. I have served. One of the interesting details was that a ping-pong ball painted orange was called a kumquat and placed in my mouth. Which means if I'm ever on Jeopardy and the answer comes up, in the "Fruit" category, "It's a song in a musical that mentions a kumquat", I'll know to say "What is 'Have an egg roll Mr. Goldstone' from Gypsy?" Granted, if I were not actually on Jeopardy, I would never ask that question out of the blue. Indeed, watch:

What is "Have an egg roll Mr. Goldstone" from Gypsy?

My immediate answer would be "forty-two".

Another concert of great import was the season-starting concert by BMOP in Jordan Hall Friday night. It was the string concertos concert (last season began with the keyboard concertos concert, including one by me, and the only one by me, which is what I have written and what it is, too). I went in early for the dress rehearsal of Marty Boykan's violin concerto (world premiere!) with Curt Macomber as soloist (world class!), and alas because of simul-event going on at Symphony Hall (I think they call it the Boston Symphony), my usual parking venues were chock full (chalk full?). Which meant an aimless bit of driving looking for onstreet stuff, and I settled on the Church Park cylinder, next to where I lived in 1977-79. The piece sounded really good, though a little muddled because of so much low stuff and the wood stage, and afterwards I re-parked to be close -- because spots opened up. And I had a lunch at Conor Larkin's (buffalo wings and salad), did the walkin' around a lot thing, and did dinner at Pizzeria Uno (small plain pan pizza). Then was the event itself, and that even included Ken's viola concerto -- the one that starts with a scream (as every piece should) -- which did its noodling around on the partials of C in a nice way. Marty's concerto sounded much, much better from the balcony, which is why it's a good thing I was in the balcony to hear it and report to you, dear reader, that Marty's concerto sounded much, much better from the balcony. When it was finished, home I came, to find Beff, who had arrived from Maine in the interim. "Mfflmmzgp" we said to each other, and retired. To bed, that is. We're way too young (and WAY too pretty) to retire, silly.

Yesterday morning I raked some edge schmutz after our breakfast, and then we went to a gathering Marty was having at his actual house in Watertown -- a rather long drive through some really dumb bottlenecks from us. But it was worth it, because I got to eat cucumbers. And bagels. And cream cheese. And tomatoes. Curt was there, along with lots of other droppable names -- Eric Chasalow, Yu-Hui, Scott Wheeler, Curt hisself, Eleanor Corey, Joel Gressel, and I must have mentioned the cucumbers. When we got back, after another interminably long drive through stupid bottlenecks, I finished the edging and raking just before the rain began, and Beff voided the house of dirt and cat hair, using her funny "vacuum" thing. Really.

I am still using the much-closer-than-it-was-two-weeks-ago phenomenon called Thanksgiving as a marker, and Seunghee will be staying here that time to take care of the cats. After Thanksgiving, well, everything else is just a light. Unless it's not. Unless it is. And of course we will be staying with Hayes and Susan, and I asked what we should bring (it's usually pie), and the response: wine and cheese. So much wine and cheese is ready to go, woo hoo, and what it is, too.

Other stuff coming up: Ken's colloquium Thursday followed by wings somewheres. Thanksgiving. Then just a week and a half of classes after that. The semester is passing fast again, thanks to our newly all-raked leaves. Now that's a change for the better.

This week's pictures: first, the long shot of the oak tree that was bright orange in the last update, now barren -- followed by a partial shot of the leaf discard area -- that's about three feet deep there. Then we have Sunny stuck in the tree, and the cats enjoying a look at the out of doors from the downstairs half-bath. Bye.

NOVEMBER 30. Breakfast was pancakes with real maple syrup, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was a big salad with an Italian dressing mixed in with a spicy dumpling dipping sauce, and 4 slices of sorpressa sausage. Dinner last night was a big salad with an Italian dressing mixed in with a spicy dumpling dipping sauce, and lemongrass chicken dumplings with a spicy dumpling dipping sauce. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 17.1 and 51.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The beginning of Rachel's musical (I am wearing the t-shirt) LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS pickles ordered online from $79. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In my junior and senior years of high school, I took my lunch money and instead of going to lunch in my lunch period, I went to the band room and hung out. Usually, I practiced the rather challenging piano part to a Dello Joio piece for piano and chorus -- some of it was in 5/8, f'gosh sake! After much practicing, I was ready to accompany the chorus in rehearsal -- which had once read through some of it two months or so earlier. When in rehearsal the chorus obviously didn't remember anything, Mrs. Costes (choral director) decided not to go on with it. As to my lunch money, it mostly went for candy, and the Gradus theory text by Leo Kraft. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny went out this morning and when he came in he was carrying a bird. Well, okay, not cute -- troublesome. Beff and I got the bird -- and Sunny -- back out within 4 or 5 minutes. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances, Bio. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: crimalcigon, another ancient Castillian word having to do with soap, sand, lizards, and sticks in a combination that has been lost to history. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 9. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I and my siblings all have two middle names. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: pointy shoes are against the law, but just barely. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,668. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.85 in Maynard, $2.37 on the Merritt Parkway. SUGGESTIONS FOR A NEW FEATURE HERE things you lick, things you don't lick, funny-looking coins of the world, animals that act like humans but there's a catch! [your suggestion here].

For about an hour we looked into despair and found a lawnmower chain. It was trying to explain how its fifth leg was really its fourteenth eye when suddenly we heard the grin of an empty chair taking its time with its mojo, and of course that meant we had to vacate the spoon. When the twelfth thing happened, the chiming of the silence was deafening, so we manufactured a run by bunting, sliding, and overreaching. At that point all the punctuation was upside down, after which we rolled our eyes and defeated in every direction at once.

Some people call today the cusp of December, and I think that's got way too many consecutive unvoiced consonants at the end, so I'll just say we're on the verge of December. I like silent vowels much more than unvoiced consonants. Those of you onlooking and having a sense of history may realize that my concluding regular feature of the first paragraph (can I write, or what?) has gone the way of the Passenger Pigeon and Sarah Palin's syntax, and you, dear reader, may suggest another one. I will list said suggestions up there until I latch onto one, unless I don't. As to the previous feature, apparently almost five years running, thanks to Jim Ricci, I've been able to cull a historically accurate history of my BETTER PRESIDENT features and complile it into a file -- for the next two updates and the next two updates only, you will be able to read or download that collection by clicking on the light blue "Presidential Archive" link below.

In the meantime, plenty of import has happened since the last update, and I deny it all. James Conlon came to Brandeis for a day of talks and speeches, and one such thing was scheduled during my Theory 2 class -- so the whole class went. It was a 2-hour question and answer session about his personal and musical history, and the entire 2 hours were spent answering 4 questions. The logical branching was complicated, and yet it always returned home. Of even more import to the student, and to me, was losing a class, thus reducing the homework for the term by one, and reducing the homeworks for me to grade by twelve. Note to self: find more ways to do this.

In Fundamentals, we moved through seventh chords and inversions back to lead sheets, more kinds of chords, more complicated chords, and making piano realizations of lead sheets -- the number of handouts related to this activity was, as they say, legion, and I really want to k now who "they" is. Isn't it fun to end a sentence "who they is"? In preparation for explaining the turnaround in pop songs and in jazz, I explained the cycle of fourths vs. the circle of fifths (or, 7 does not equal 12), explained a bit about harmonic sequence that comes out of the cycle of fourths, and for an example played "I Will Survive". The number of students who could sing along, and sing along accurately, was scandalously high. Brandeis is retro-hip, who woulda thunkit? Coming up, it's more complicated chords, jazz chords, the turnaround, and everybody's favorite, the tritone substitution. I wonder how many other liberal arts schools teach the tritone substition in the first semester of Fundamentals of Music.

Needless to say, grading for Fundamentals and theory 2 -- especially now that Theory 2 is doing chorale harmonizations and I actually care how to get them to make it sound right -- has become a bit more soul-sucking than is normal. To wit, I have devised DAVY'S GRADING FACTOR (DGF), which is a variable constant currently set at 3.8. Multiply the number of hours spent grading by DGF for the number of hours it feels like you have spent grading; or, conversely, divide the number of hours you feel like you've spent grading to get the actual number of hours spent. So today, Sunday -- alas, I postponed the weekend's grading until today when I could have not done so -- it feels like I spent 8.5 hours grading. Thanks to DGFI know I spent 2.2368 "real" hours grading. It should be noted here that DGF is not a real constant -- it shifts depending on the specific grading task. Fundamentals Homework 10 gives a factor of 4.5, but species counterpoint averages around 2.5. The take-home finals for Fundamentals DGF is usually about 3, and the final analytical papers for Theory 2 DGF is, strangely, 1.

Among other things, people e-mailed me and I e-mailed some of them back. I went to meetings and then came home. I accepted a commission from the California Music Teachers Association to write some intermediate level piano 4-hands music which will also involve me flying to LA in July 2010 for the premiere(s). I wrote grad school letters and a few job letters. And the Guggenheim letter pile arrived, about two weeks later than usual, but at least beginning this year I can submit those letters online rather than sign the various forms, decouple them from the project descriptions, write "see attached letter" on all the forms, and oh yes, write and print the letters. AND ... I accomplished my fifth service of the (calendar) year as an outside evaluator for an academic promotion. That last service is excruciatingly tiring, very time-consuming, and very, very much worth it.

Beff's Maynard weekend was nonexistent last weekend, since UMaine sent her to Seattle for about 36 hours to make an appearance at a convocation of music department chairs. I celebrated by jumping sideways, once. And staying inside because it was about 20 degrees below average. I also bought a whole bunch of firewood and used some.

And then, and then ... Thanksgiving weekend is in the middle (or actually on the side) of happening, and boy did we have great plans. Beff got in Tuesday night and we had swordfish puttanesca which I made and what it is, too. Then on Wednesday morning Seunghee trained in to be the catsitter from Wednesday to Saturday, and after getting her food at Stop and Shop and 'splainin' some stuff, we drove to Bronxville (three hours, fifteen minutes, including two stops) for Thanksgiving with Hayes and Susan. We got there a little faster than planned, and Hayes was at home to let us in, and immediately we walked downtown (a 12 minute walk) for a light lunch at Haiku restaurant --where we got beer and appetizers. Or, alphabetically, appetizers and beer. And soup. And then we lounged. Susan got back from work around 5:30, we lounged, and then got takeout pizza, frolicked with Fritz and Rasia (the cats) and the next thing we knew we were asleep. Well, we weren't knowing, but there you go.

For Thanksgiving day, Susan did almost all the food stuff (my only tasks were to peel the squash and make the gravy lumpy), and in late morning we walked to the Bronxville A&P for some last minute provisions -- I got myself a bunch of various olivy stuff, and it didn't suck. Thanksgiving dinner was served at a civilized time, and eat we did. We had brought wine and cheese (very expensive cheese from Whole Paycheck, I might add), and it was tremendous. To decompress we watched a DVD of Persepolis, which actually took an entire hour and twenty minutes before I exclaimed, "I am incredibly bored!". Because, you see, it was, how you say in your language ... incredibly boring. It was rescued somewhat by the network broadcast of The Incredibles, which provides me with one of my favorite taglines that I transpose to reference syncopation in tonal writing -- When Everything Is Syncopated .... NOTHING Is Syncopated! But I digress. And well I should. And the third thing we knew, we were in bed.

As for Friday, HayesAndSusan had incredible goodness waiting for us. They decided we should hike in the Teatown Lake Reservation to their north about a half hour on the Sawmill, then Taconic, Parkway, followed by a free beer tasting at the Captain Lawrence Brewery in Pleasantville. I had assumed that the beer tasting would be at a brewpub, but it turns out it's just a teeny room with a tap attached to the actual brewery, so no dinner was to be had there. So ... up to the reservation we went, choosing the Hidden Valley trail. And it we huck. After which back we came and looked a little at the duck blind structure, got a few things at the gift shop, and moseyed on down to Pleasantville. I turned the GPS program on my phone on for driving directions, and they turned out to be right -- though it had a tendency once or twice not to be able to update the GPS for a mile's worth of driving. We were in Pleasantville far enough in advance of the brewery's opening (at 4) that we had lunch at the "world famous" Pleasantville Diner, of which we were hearing for the first time. The cool thing about the GPS program is that it also can search for things to do and places to eat based on your location. I keyed in "restaurants" and the first entry encountered was "Starbucks, 0.0 miles", which was synchronous with Beff saying "Hmm. Starbucks". The next entry was "Pleasantville Diner, 0.0 miles", which I read exactly as Susan said, "well, there's the Pleasantville Diner." Which made me a great burger, and Buffalo wings that registered a 2 out of 10 on DBWFS (Davy's Buffalo Wing Funkability Scale). In any case. While in the diner, we also checked the web on my phone for the Prospero Winery, which was right next door to the brewery. Susan bought a bottle of red wine there, then we had our free beer (the pale ale and spicy hefeweizen were tremendous), and back home we came. To a big salad, and some Prospero red wine. And we watched three episodes of "What Not to Wear", which meant a whole three hours before I finally up and exclaimed, "Make it stop!"

Meantime, Seunghee e-mailed -- on Facebook, why? -- to let us know that Sunny had barfed once, and that she'd used up all our firelogs in the fireplace. Which is fine, since we can get more. We know where to get them, and how to pay for them, and where to pay for them. We drove back in the morning, did a buttload of laundry, did some busy work, and I made the dinner that registers above. Today it is coldish again, and a storm with snow showers changing to semi-heavy rain is starting to move through. Beff and I took a morning walk and she left for Maine early to beat the storm, and then I did my 8.5 hours of grading. And now I am typing my update, but that won't be the case by the time you read this, dear reader.

Upcoming: more stuff. By using the internets (just a bunch of tubes, they tell me), I discovered that my band piece Cantina gets its Utah premiere on the tenth of the month on which this is the cusp. Dunno what else is up. Just a week and a half of classes left, but tons of meetings, and a literal ton (as in two thousand pounds, once the DGP is factored in) of grading following that. After which I will rest.

Today's pictures include Rasia and Fritz, the Thanksgiving dinner, a shot of Beff and Susan and Hayes hiking Teatown, me at the duck blind structure, and then Hayes, Susan and Beff in the Pleasantville Diner. Bye.

DECEMBER 19. Breakfast this morning was lite sausages with cheese slices, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was a Healthy Choice microwave pizza. Lunch was Buffalo wings, a small Caesar salad, and a Berkshire Steel Rail Pale Ale at the Horseshoe Pub in Hudson. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 11.7 and 61.9. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Boogie Wonderland. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Christmas presents $many, First edits plus mastering for Etudes 3, $2400, charitable donations Part 1, $1,000. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was on the faculty of Columbia and actually living in New York, I gave a composition lesson to Donel Young, a former student of Judy Bettina from Stanford. A little while later, she invited me to a reception in Brooklyn for an ensemble that was to be associated with the place she was working; the ensemble was from Germany and did experimental stuff, etc. I didn't dress pretentious enough, but I went, and at one point I was telling someone that I spent weekends in a house in the country (we had just moved to Spencer, Massachusetts), which I found relaxing and a good place to write music. The ensemble's director heard that and left his conversation to come to mine and proclaimed, "You CANNOT create great art in the country! ART IS URBAN!" Don't forget the German accent when saying OOR-ban. It was my first experience of what I now know to be true: Europeans like to make pronouncements. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: See pictures below of Cammy liking to enter any new box or bag that comes into the house. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: tinscker, from the ancient Egyptian apparently referring to a cat in heat. So far, no pop song from the 1920s has been discovered that uses that word. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 35. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I get a lot of e-mails asking for permission to use fonts that are not mine, but that someone has atrributed to me. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: New England weather becomes subtropical. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,847. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.75 and $1.67 in Maynard. OBJECTS THAT EXHIBIT STRANGE BEHAVIOR WHEN MICROWAVED Whitebread sandwiches, green plums, Pez dispensers, ladybugs.

My heart was going "boomba-boomba-boom boom," but it turns out I needed a translation from the Portuguese. Snippets of hockey invaded my Polish socks, so I was going to learn where the tooth fairy put my gum, when all of a sudden both flashlights remembered how to get a Nobel Prize. So without four of them (you know what I mean, right?), the Post-It to which I conceded made explosions secretly while Rome figured out its taxes. Notwithstanding, but with alacrity.

Dear reader, a frighteningly long 19 days since the last update, but you know, I can splain. The timing was such that when the new update was due, I got a pile of grading that extended from earth to the sun and back, and I pretty much spent three solid days (Tues, Wed, Thurs) on it. I could probably have done it all in a day if it weren't so soul-sucking -- I maxed out after 20 minutes, and in order for my head not to explode, I had to go on and do diversions. More on those diversions on a need-to-know basis. What is a need-to-know basis, anyway?

So first, in the last update I solicited ideas for a new feature to replace INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD MAKE A BETTER PRESIDENT, etc., and our double-fiver Alexa from the Home page stepped up with some suggestions. I may make it a different list each update, dunno yet. But next update's list will be different, too, so there.

My last week and a half of teaching went as it should, and by that I mean ssssmokin'! After handing out three fake books in Fundamentals for suggestions for lead sheets they would realize on their Finals, I chose five out of their fifteen or so, and on Thursday stepped right up, did the final, and uploaded it to the class's webspace. The last day of class was reserved for some funness -- for instance, telling the story of Whitney Houston's "I'm Your Baby Tonight" and how it's in compound time in America and simple time in Europe (you hadda be there), and playing the Sugar Plum Fairies music simultaneously on piano and toy piano -- and when I dismissed the Fundamentals class, there was applause. Ah yes, what suckuppage. And speaking of suckuppage, I have been continuing the tradition of faculty giving food to the students for the last class -- in this case 60 doughnuts to Fundamentals and 3 large pizzas to Theory 2. It was nice, for once, to talk about dominant prolongations with a mouth full of pizza. Typically, by the way, I also got 3 finals handed to me on the last day of Fundamentals.

And for THAT weekend, Beff had to stay in Maine for all of her various important things related to the end of school. So I found myself visiting Facebook much too often (you may recall, dear reader, that I said it was addictive), and I up and withdrew from Facebook. Partly because I got tired of being invited to so damn many events, mostly because it was too addictive. Now it's time to figure out other addictive things to stop doing -- like making snow angels, for instance, or eating tires.

So for that blank half-week after classes finished, I actually had to go into the 'Deis six consecutive days. Though on Thursday, there was a pouring rainstorm that was slowly turning to freezing rain, and I decided to stay at home rather than go in for a meeting. So there. And that freezing rain did happen, but mostly overnight, and we were brushed by the very ippy-tippy edge of the historic ice storm that hit interior New England. So lemme splain.

It had been a hard, driving rain nearly all day Thursday and the freezing rain that did happen didn't accumulate on roads and sidewalks, but when I woke up around 1 am, I noticed a glaze on various trees that I could see in the light of the streetlight. I thought little of it, since not much was forecast. But at precisely 3 am, I was awakened by the sound of someone trying to break into the house. I turned some lights on and donned my bathrobe and went downstairs and saw that there was a local cat on the back porch. Thought I, "this cat sure makes a lot of noise." Then I heard another big sound out toward the gazebo, and I looked out the half-bath window and saw a bunch of pine branches at ground level, pointing straight up. I turned on the outdoor lights and went outside to look. It was still raining hard, but I heard a jangly sound in our stand of pine trees and another cracking sound, and witnessed the fall of another large branch by about thirty feet. One big one that was leaning against the gazebo I managed to move to the side, and at that point I noticed that there were about twenty or thirty branches of size that had fallen, some of which simply broke the fence. So, tired of being wet, I went back inside, and noticed that the sump pump in the basement -- which goes on about once every third year -- was working, and I was to hear it going on about 30 times that day.

The power never went off, though, and it was far, far more devastating as little as ten miles to our west -- where some people STILL have no power. After the sun came up and though it was still raining, I obsessed into dragging some of the downed branches -- they were all on the east or north side of the trees -- to a discard area in the far back yard. After doing that with many very heavy and ice-coated branches for about a half hour, I decided I'd had enough. I called Assabet Tree Service, who took care of our fallen ailanthus from three years ago, and of course by saying "it's not an emergency" I guaranteed they wouldn't call back until the following Wednesday. So ... I stopped moving branches and decided to let sleeping branches lie.

Meanwhile, Beff came home on Friday. I had gone into Brandeis to do the funding panel for the Festival of the Arts (as I always do in December), and for the first two miles there were occasional clumps of Verizon trucks tending to places that had also had fallen pine limbs. But by about a half mile past the Sudbury line, there was no evidence of an ice storm. I did the panel and got back, and we had salmon for dinner, along with asparagus and broccoli. So there.

Saturday was the day to get the Christmas tree, so after some various errands that included getting a new magic brush for cat hair, we got our $35 tree from the guys in the Shaws parking lot, and as usual it fit nice and snugly in the Subaru, and it was pretty easy to get into the house and stand it up. Last year the tree we had gotten was bulky enough to snap the tree holder, and while I stood there holding the tree Beff had to go to Aubuchon hardware and get a much sturdier model (the one we currently have will withstand a nuclear attack, I am sure), and of course it was a breeze. Last year the cats started drinking the water in the tree stand and, of course, subsequently doing that not very cute kitty-vomit thing, so this year, d'oh! -- the stand is covered up by a couple of beach towels. And the cats have been remarkably uncurious about the tree. So Beff decorated most of the tree, and when we discovered one of our strings of lights wasn't working, out I went and got the most robust, and expensive, set of 50 lights that was available at Ace. How 'bout that?

Saturday night, after an early chicken dinner, there was a grad composer concert at Brandeis, which was spantorific. Indeed, there was so much happy music on it, and pulsed music, that you would hardly have thought we were on the oppressively intellectual East Coast. It was certainly the best such concert since the New York New Music one in 2005, and there wasn't a clinker -- not even one. Both Beff and I felt very tingly about that concert -- or perhaps my feet just fell asleep. One interesting development was that as the last piece (Jeremy Spindler's) started, I got dripped on, and I searched in vain for the source of the water -- but it definitely came from above the stand of stage lights above us. What a revoltin' development!

On Sunday Beff left around 2, and then there was the UNDERGRAD composer concert to follow. This one was mostly short pieces, but there were a few substantial ones, and at least two were real standouts. And then -- time passed, and eventually it was Monday.

And on Monday at 10 was Max's PhD orals. After talking an hour and a half about Lachenmann, it was Mozart time. And then I sat and waited for final papers and takehome exams that were due at 1, and left at 1:15. It would eventually be the case that one paper and one final takehome exam came in after that time, and Cheryl had to fax me them (I love the word sequence "fax me them" -- watch this: Fax me them! It could be a metal band!). I went from school to BJ's so I could get firelogs and perhaps be inspired to get Christmas presents -- I wasn't. But I did also get myself a headset/microphone for hands-free cellphoning. Because, because ... because, dear reader, I am worth it. Also, for some reason I got a Burger King itch (hmm, taken literally that would be weird) so I went to the one near BJs, and as always, when I was finished I wondered why I had a Burger King itch. Perhaps I was being rash (rim shot). And, and ... the temperature was in the mid 60s on Monday, so frolicsome was I when I got home. Some frolic I did. I was sufficiently frolicsome to put off the grading until Tuesday.

And then, and then... on Tuesday to keep my head from exploding, I took occasional respites to go outside and drag all the fallen limbs from the yard to the space just beyond the stand of pines, and then I raked up the smaller bits and carted them to the leaf discard area --- that amounted to four wheelbarrow loads of smaller stuff. The bigger stuff -- well, it's covered in snow for the time being, and Assabet Tree finally did call back. When the snow is gone, be it later this month, or March or April, they'll come by and take care of it plus about five years worth of trimmed and fallen stuff that's in the pile by the leaves.

Meanwhile ... grading. Grading. Grading. Just the act of copying the scores into the Fundamentals grade sheet after they had been graded took nearly an hour. The calculating of final grades --- forever. And there was still a bunch of late Theory 2 homework, and final papers... Well, I finished this morning at 7:30, and I am very glad, dear reader, very glad.

In the meantime, the pile of Guggenheim letters arrived and, thankfully, this year for the first time these can be submitted online. So the typage for that was somewhat time-consuming. Plus job letters and other various recommendations. During certain weeks -- like two weeks ago -- the time spent simply telling other people how wonderful other people are exceeds the time spent doing what I am actually paid to do. One thing of note -- I actually did give ONE person "my highest recommendation". I've done that four times since 1990, so it's nice and rare. Texas style.

On the plus side. The pickles from PickleLicious are great, and so are their hot olives. I immediately ordered four more gallons of them -- two of full sour, two of spicy. Beff got me a five-pepper-spiced thing of olives which are being saved for later. And I did most of my Christmas shopping on line. I like it when that happens. As to Christmas itself, we expect seven at dinner, only two of them without the name "Wiemann". I would be one of them. Beff's sister Ann is making roast beast (which we will ask the Grinch to carve, possibly into the shape of an elephant) and multicolor potatoes (I think my job is to go out and get the potato crayons, not sure).

Whoa, I just ran through the list of pieces I have to write in my head, and it's substantial. Though I'm off the colony hop for at least another year, so that means they'll be written right here. The first task is incidental music for Hecuba, and that involves an overture, some stuff to be sung by the onstage Chorus, some "dastardly stuff happening offstage" music, and a whole bunch of short sound effects for the sound designer to go wild with. Sound designer for Bacchae: J. Sound designer for Hecuba: J. But a different J. The sound design program in the theater department is taking, like, FOREVER to get through the alphabet. Though the FIRST J was never seen by me in the Slosberg building nailing piano keys to a piano.

Oh, and the DVD with full resolution pictures (the file size of each pic averages 30 megabytes, zounds!) from Civitella arrived. I sent some of the shots to BMOP/Sound for their designer to consider for the Winged Contraption CD. The others, I didn't.

And incidentally, I have not shaved since the last class I taught. I am officially scruffified.

So that's how it goes. Next update will have the year-end highlight pictures, oh wow. And a foot of snow or more is forecast to start falling here about an hour after this is posted. For now, I leave you, dear reader, with nine pictures starting with four of the backyard showing the nighttime picture at 3 am, the first light picture, a first light picture from a different angle, and yesterday after the light snowfall and branches moved aside -- note damage to fence. Next a bit of ice encountered on our Sunday walk, Cammy being all cute in a Shaw's bag, the Christmas tree, Cammy jumping out of a box with the no-flash setting on the camera, and me at Civitella working on the bebop movement of Stolen Moments. Bye.

DECEMBER 29. Breakfast this morning was bagels with reduced fat cream cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was leftover prime rib, Polish fries, and salad. Lunch was a train of snacky things including pickles, olives, cheese, cherries, and green seedless grapes. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 7.0 and 60.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The overture of The Messiah: A Soulful Celebration. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Charitable donations part 2, $1,000, more Christmas presents, Whole Foods and Trader Joes, $$$, two new Espresso coffee makers, Italian style, $32. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Our wedding (August 11, 1989) was at the Divinity School of Harvard with an outdoor reception planned and an indoor classroom as the backup in case of inclement weather. Naturally, there was inclement weather. Beff's father volunteered to get champagne for the reception in New Hampshire on his way in, and we asked a friend who worked in a liquor store how much was appropriate: he said two cases. Naturally, Beff's dad thought that was an exaggeration, and brought one and a half cases. And naturally, we ran out. So there were emergency beer runs by friends, who brought back cases of Sam Adams, which is why in all the toast pictures from the wedding, Beff and I are holding beer bottles. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: During the warm portions of the seesaw weather we've had, they like to sit in any open window and look out. We call it "kitty TV". UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Bio, Home, Lexicon. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: flurgeola, a short-lived kind of method for keeping nose hair from growing too fast last seen in the 1890s. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 14. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I own two bright red t-shirts -- one from the Magic Hat brewery, one from the 2008 Brandeis Festival of the Arts. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Every food, including fat, is lowfat. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,865. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.63 in Maynard. THINGS THAT WOULD LOOK REALLY FUNNY POLKA-DOTTED The White House, the front page of the Boston Globe, the Amtrak Acela, the head of a pin, the moon on the crest of the newfallen snow, an entire organ recital.

Shoe polish. They said it, and I thought of head cheese. So before any of the dogs could object, three of us went in four different directions at once and shaved the pebbles down to a clear, smooth, polish. As the starfish was thinking, "could they have found the best price without first asking for silence?" Twice, apparently. So when the smoke cleared, my head twisted into a pancreas, where the wild things once held flashlights with malice towards none. Tropes are not the same thing as beestings.

A mere ten days since the last update, and that must mean vacation or something. The real news here has been the wild, wacky weather of late, which follows a year's worth of wild, wacky weather -- which became apparent as I scrolled through my 2008 pictures for the year-end fest below. We had a dusting of snow a few days after being on the cusp of the wild ice storm, and soon that was followed by a parade of very big snowstorms -- well, two. Each dropped about a foot, and it made us glad that we have plow guys taking care of the big snowfalls. Although some of the pavement of our driveway and some of the ground near the top of the driveway aren't exactly glad (this would be anthropomorphization, for those of you playing along at home, unless it isn't). So of course there was a white Christmas to be had here, as well as a few mornings that got *really* cold. Colder still in Maine, as Beff called to let me know the temperature there was 1.

So after the grading fest was over was the actual grading fest, as in, calculating final grades for the term. This took much longer than it should have, for several reasons. One of them was the way Brandeis IT has set up the online grading interface. Before grades are officially posted, you must click on the "Approve Posting of Entered Grades" button, after which you click on "Save". The Fundamentals class was so large that for the first time the Approve portion of our program was not finished before I clicked on Save. Little did I know that, since I'd not taught a class anywhere near as large before. So when I got the form e-mail from the registrar on the 24th "Grades for MUS 5A FUND OF MUSIC are not entered", I had a nice back-and-forth. Well, "nice" is not the appropriate word here, more like "naughty". I reentered the grades -- of which there were a lot -- twice before the registrar could see them. Then we laughed it off, and went off in several directions at once (I believe that's a line from the "Bald Soprano", by the way, and I do realize that I overuse it).

Meanwhile, Beff's reentry into Maynardhood was in the brief little window between bigass snowstorms -- the storms were Friday and Sunday before Christmas, so gentle reader, you do the figuring as to which day she drove back. And immediately the more complex dinner-making started. Why, there's been snacky chicken, salmon, swordfish puttanesca, and all. And then came the holiday blitz. Which went as follows.

Beff's sister Ann came with food for Christmas dinner on the day before Christmas. This was the day the warmthness started, in contrast to the ugly snowy weather of many feet of snow, but this being New England, it started in the early morning as freezing rain. Which made it real fun getting the newspaper from the sidewalk in the morning. It was all rain and up into the 50s by the afternoon, and we took a commuter rail into Cambridge for Christmas eve fun with the siblage -- the 25-minute walk from Porter Square station to Dana street took 40 minutes with the piles of snow of unusual size around which to navigate, but we made it. Beff's bro' Matt now rents the apartment I subletted in 1999-2000, and there were meatballs, horrendously high-fat things, and beer. Then we walked to the place nearby that Beff's bro' Jim bought for dinner, which was cooked by his s.o. Annie. And it was very good. We got a ride to the commuter rail to return, and that's just what we did.

On Christmas day, there was opening of presents, and here's how it came out. Ann got all of the siblings embossing things with two plates: "R", and "from the library of". I thought they were very cool, and I started embossing everything I could get my hands on, except the cats. Beff got a classic iPod, two pairs of girly shoes, two pairs of Hotfingers gloves, and some iTunes gift cards from me. Beff got me an HP printer scanner fax thing that I craved simply because it has an autofeed for scanning multipage documents (something I'll be using a lot especially this spring), and an electronic yodeling pickle. In both cases, it was the first time I'd ever had either. The gang of brothers and s.o. arrived midafternoon for dinner and additional gift opening, and Ann cooked prime rib, potatoes, and lots of other things that have vowels in them. During cleanup, the hot water ran out. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

The day after Christmas Beff and Ann spent shopping in Cambridge, especially at Crate & Barrel, which is going out of business in Harvard Square. I, meanwhile, started writing music for the Brandeis production of Hecuba (in three days, I wrote the overture).

The second day after Christmas saw another huge temperature run-up and, briefly, pouring rain. Ann was on her way back to Albany and was interested in shopping at some places she doesn't have -- Whole Foods and Trader Joe's. So we convoyed to the two of them right next to each other in Framingham on Route 9, arriving just in time for the pouringness of the rain. And we spent $147 at Whole Paycheck. But it was worth it. From there it was a quick drive to the Mass Pike for Ann, and a less quick drive for us to return home.

Yesterday was warmer still -- 60 here, 63 in Boston -- and it was fun taking a long walk with Beff in a light jacket and giving bones to the purple-tongued dog who lives on Summerhill Road. A very significant portion of the two feet of snow is now gone, and I reveled yesterday in taking out some shrubs in the stand-of-pines area. Since the branches that dropped in the ice storm took out the fence there, a little of that area is going to be reclaimed as backyard. Not that there is anything wrong with that. And of course, while I was doing that I served as kitty TV.

Klaus had sent us a gift package from Germany, including Harissa and hot pepper chocolate, and some Lavazza coffee. Which brought back Civitella memories, and I thought for Lavazza I should have one of those low tech espresso makers such as we had there (Whole Foods also sells Illy coffee, supposedly the cream of the crop there, so I got a can there, too. So there) and I got a 6-cup and later a 3-cup version. The coffee was much better than the other stuff we've been drinking. And.

Meanwhile, I finished part 1 of the Many Musics of Hecuba and entered it into Finale. Lots of inside the piano stuff, but that's a given. More to come after I finish with this update, so there, so there. This afternoon the ka-ching twins (classic version) are set to arrive here (Carolyn in town for family after having moved to DC and Big Mike getting back from Christmas vacation this afternoon) for Korean dinner just as it gets dark today. So there. Then, everything else is as it seems. 2009 will definitely be the year that follows 2008.

Now to sum up. What did I write in 2008? A few memos, a bunch of e-mails, and some new pieces. Including etudes 83 to 88, Stolen Moments (the 25-minute response to jazz piece for 10 instruments for Merkin Hall) and some Hecuba music. Also two flute etudes using specific techniques. Everything for the BMOP/Sound CD (text, pictures, etc.) is just about ready, except for the actual music. Etudes Volume 3 from Bridge has been through first edits, having been recorded by Amy in June. And that does it for now.

2008, the year in 320x240 pictures, monthly, is below. JAN the kitties enjoying the side porch on a warm day FEB the special midwinter light on Great Road at sunset MAR Beff on the phone with her sister shortly after I brought out the Adirondack chairs APR grape hyacinths in the back yard MAY thunderstorm rolling across Lake Champlain while we are in Burlington JUN Amy on the second day of recording sessions JUL the Civitella Ranieri castle in context of the Umbrian hills AUG sunset on Lake Champlain SEP the house with its new siding and painting OCT maple and hydrangia foliage NOV Susan, Beff and Hayes hiking about the Tea Town Lake place DEC Kitty TV shortly after the second snowstorm. Bye.

JANUARY 11, 2009. Breakfast this morning was fake eggs with a slice of cheese cooked in the microwave (weird, but tasty), orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was leftover spaghetti and ravioli. Lunch was a leftover slice of pizza. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 4.6 and 42.3. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The MIDI of the "Something will Happen" Hecuba cue. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS None, really. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: The one time I got my name in the St. Albans Daily Messenger for a sports-related feat was in a losing effort by our semi-pathetic freshman basketball team. Something like "Dave Rakowski pumped in 8 in a losing effort." (It makes me think that "pumptinate" should be a real word). I do recall that a little later a poem I wrote for an English class with all the textbook hackneyed apposite-ironies ("Though I am blind, you think I cannot see", etc.) was surreptitiously taken by my mother and caused to be published in said newspaper. When my bestselling biography is written, this chapter will not be held up as an example of early creativity (or, for that matter, standards). NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy nuzzles at night, making it a chore to get out of bed to use the bathroom, or, indeed, anything else that you can do when not in bed; and Sunny keeps wanting me to follow him into the guest room to pet him on the sleeping bag. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Bio, Home, Compositions. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: pluke, a derivation of the old Dutch word plook, and suspicions are it was onomatopeoia for the sound of something being tossed into a bowl of water. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 16. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I have never been to North Dakota. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: The phrase "Ponzi scheme" is banished from newspapers everywhere and replaced with "Fonzie scheme". No matter what I give here as an example of such a thing, it can't beat your imagination, dear reader. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,880. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.59 in Maynard; it was $1.69 the next day. THINGS THAT DON'T BELONG BETWEEN YOUR TEETH free credit reports, polka dots, ladybugs (living or dead), the Triumphal March from Aida.

The dada paragraph that has been showing up here will be a sporadic feature beginning in 2009, which is what it is, and what it is, too. This time we move on. But we can hope for the best.

Welcome to 2009, which is the first odd-numbered year we've had in more than 350 days. It being school vacation, there is hardly much to report, since I've stayed at home and worked, and occasionally have gone hog-wild with trips to K-Mart, Roche Brothers grocery, and Trader Joe's. Don't that beat all. Nonetheless, like the Riddler having to give Batman a clue before every job, I have a responsibility to infuse and enfuse readers with ennui (and en nuit) at regular intervals. So lemme splain.

As I type this, six inches of snow showers is a-winding down outside, and even before the semester has officialy gotten under way, I'm already thinking about soaking up hurricanes in a culture-free society merely for the sake of the weather. Then I slap myself silly (or sillier) and return to the angst, dry skin, and the sound of large snow-moving equipment, and marvel that all three are essential components to the creative artist. You may have remembered that I reported the two foot-deep storms around Christmas had mostly melted; now we have the detritus of a half-foot storm, a slop storm, and a new powdery half-foot one to kick around. Cool. Cold.

So Beff and I rang in the New Year by being asleep. On a walk for supplies, I had gotten a rose champagne at a convenience store, and that was our bubbly. We were awake for British new year, but not our own. But dagnabbit, the next day it was shonuff 2009. And strangely enough, all the checks I've written (one) have had the correct year on them. How 'BOUT that! The New Year also coincided with the continuation of my writing cues for the Brandeis production of Hecuba. To review, the arc of the play is: I can't believe how bad things are, things are worse still, worse still, things are only getting worser, woe, woe, woe, woe, revenge. And gouging eyes out seems to be pretty much de rigeur in these old Greek plays. Which makes me think that --- one of these days I'll make a pun on Incredible Edibles as Incredible Oedipals. Right HERE, dear reader, your imagination kicks in.

Okay, that's long enough. Back to ennui.

So once I'd written a buttload of cues and sent them to the players, all that was left was some chorus things for musical settings. Since the production is a new adaptation from a fresh translation (it's an -ation fest! or perhaps, -ation fusion), I can't set any of the myriad translations already in existence. My request for the text by New Year's Day went for naught, and alas, I am still waiting. Which is cool, because I thrive on deadlines even if others don't.

Meanwhile, Beff had to go to Maine for the meat portion of the week that just transpired, to do Chair and teaching stuff, which gave me the house to myself. MWA ha ha. So two of those days were spent activity-free -- indeed, for forty-eight hours I lived to serve the needs of the cats, and if that included lying in the guest bed with Sunny for extended periods, far be it from me to do actual work. After snapping out of that, I moved on to actual composition (you may remember that I occasionally call myself a composer), and so far, two pieces, with references below and to the left, have sprung.

First, two of my double-fivers who are musicology grad students are doing a voice and keyboard recital in the spring, and Gil (who often drops the "ad" in his name -- Adgil is a funny name, anyway) suggested I write a piece for his freakish seventeen-octave voice using only the text "Hey Davy". Which I did on Tuesday morning (in the middle of which I drove to the hardware store for ice melt and then to Dunkin Donuts for coffee and a croissant). I have a Vocal Writer version of the MIDI which is funny enough to withhold from you, dear reader. And the piece is called "High Def", which has the same initials as the text that is set.

Wednesday was the Day Of The Slop Storm, and I was occupied during a lot of the day with slop removal. It was almost a replay of the December ice storm, except here there was snow under sleet under melting freezing rain under rain. And since our plowing contract stipulates 3 inches before they plow, the 2-1/2 inches of slop, which was very, very, very, very, very heavy to shovel had to be pushed aside by the person who is typing this who loves to refer to himself in third person. They sometimes like to refer to themselves in third person plural, even. So I, back into first person, went out three times, putting the big hurt on the shoveling muscles, and as I finished the third pass, the plow guys pulled up to the driveway and called out, "Dave, you all set?" I think they only know one-syllable words.

So for the final part of the week, Beff returned and there was lovely salmon from BJ's, chicken from Whole Foods, and chicken sandwiches to be had. And I had discovered bird poop in a concentrated area on the front porch. Of course weather takes care of that kind of cleanup, but it took me a little longer to discover that the light fixture on the porch was not entirely glassed in, and that a bird (a nuthatch, I believe) was using it as its winter home. And there was a well-organized bit of poop in the fixture, too. SO I stuffed the fixture with newspaper (we can't turn on the light at the moment), and chirped loudly at the encroaching bird -- I think I either used naughty words in birdspeak, or I said, "wool on travesty shining". Birdspeak is a very delicate, nuanced, tonal language.

Thinking about said bird somehow caused me to listen on Thursday morning to the many birds (well, maybe a dozen) that were spending the winter here and doing calls in the sunshine. It was really boring. Just a bunch of chips and chirps. So when thinking about a tood idea, after piling through a few that were so much like other pieces (some of them by me), a tood on two-note warbling figures was the one to pursue, for at least three reasons: 1) I had no such tood already, 2) it's a strange weird challenge, and 4) WTF? Plus, if you inflect the title just right ("This Means Warble") you can get Beff to laugh. See yellow "Warble" link to the left. I finished said tood yesterday morning while Beff was in Plaistow, New Hampshire for some sort of chamber music festival thingie.

At the beginning of the week, I packaged up all the Fundamentals exams by students that wanted them returned and put them in envelopes, then picked up all my other Brandisian stuff and -- went to Brandeis! on its first open day since Christmas. Where I got them ready to send out, and picked up a whole bunch of handouts for the classes I am teaching this spring. Why? Because I can, but mostly because I can, but even mostlier because Beff got me this lovely HP all-in-one with a multipage scanner autofeed (now there's a title). And for most of the afternoon I used the hardware to create lovely multipage PDFs of the standard handouts (for orchestration: 22 beginnings of piano music to arrange for various combinations; for Theory 2: various sets of variations). Now the students can print them themselves, but more pertinently, I can project them on the screen to refer to them in class. Technology is best when you pronounce the "ch" like you are throwing up.

And then yesterday was a fun, fun, fun, fun day. Despite the looming snowstorm (they say it's a clipper, but my fingernails are still the same length) and all, Beff did an early morning drive to this Plaistow thing (up at 5:30, out the door at 6:30, back in at 6:31, back out at 6:32), I finished the warbletude, and for the afternoon, I went to the Joel Gordon house in Lexington (14.4 mile drive) to listen through the first edits for the BMOP/Sound CD, which was a three-hour activity that was ... actually ... fun. David Corcoran was there as the editor, Gil selected the takes, and we listened and listened, perhaps rejecting about 15 takes and replacing them with other ones. Gil had a complicated spreadsheet with all the takes, which was useful, since when I heard, say, a cello pizz. a beat early, Gil could immediately point out all the other takes with that excerpt, and dropping the other take in was fairly painless. At least for me. And in one part of the piano concerto's cadenza, there is scimmiamerda stuff where one important D major arpeggiation was good only in one take, but the other takes were better around it, and ... ooh, am I giving away too many secrets?

Gil did mention that the scherzo of the piano concerto is "really hard". So hard, in fact, that even the brass players kept their eyes in their parts instead of cutting up and breaking out the beer (which is what I would have done if I were still a trombonist). Gil, by the way, now has a beard. In fact, he has one more beards than he does working furnaces, at the moment. As to the CD. Apparently it's got a fantastic cover, but somehow, all I've actually seen of the print part is the track listing. I was promised something to proof pronto (another great title I'l never use. Okay, I take it back. It's not a great title). Amazingly, if things go as planned the CD drops in February and is catalog number 1010. BMOP/Sound 1010 wins!

Beff, meanwhile, spent the night in or near Plaistow, thanks to the storm. Which is probably a good thing. And when the storm finishes, she will up and drive all the way to Maine. Because, as they say in Portugal (except when they don't), things are ramping up again with a new school year. Including for me. No time for details, but I have a gonzo time of it starting next week and going right up to about March 3. And for the record, I am up and at them starting on Wednesday. Also for the record, I want it to be much warmer, please.

1. B. on a downtown walk last week, Beff and I saw a robin. Just sittin' there, not doin' much of nothing. Not the first robin of spring, obviously, maybe the dumbest one who doesn't even know when to migrate. Just as I said, "maybe he can't fly", he up and flew away.

Today's pix begin with the end of this particular storm as viewed from the front and back, the obligatory cat pictures, outdoor shots showing the fallen pine limbs and the state of the pine trees currently, and a shot of our espresso-making accoutrements. Bye.

JANUARY 30. Breakfast this morning was a bagel with light cream cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was grilled salmon from Trader Joe's, asparagus, and salad. Lunch was a Trader Joe's noodle meal. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE -3.1 and 41.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Fourth movement of Cantina. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Driving and parking, meals in New York, Virginia and Baltimore, purchases $146. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In the late summer days of grad school, a bunch of us used to do small softball games on the Princeton fields, and there were sufficiently few of us on each team that only balls hit between second and third base were considered fair balls. Lee Blasius was on the opposing team in one of those games, and he kept grounding out. And I was playing shortstop. Near the end of the game, he finally hit it very hard, but in a line drive right at me, which I caught. And he was mad that the ONLY time he finally hit it hard, I caught it. My bad. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: The cats were in Maine two weeks and are back, and Cammy's sleep-on-Davy's head thing is happening again. Meanwhile, Sunny is just very needy in the morning. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances, Home. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: strischinar, very slightly derived from the Italian word for stripe, referring to the icicles that form clinging to the sides of buildings. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 6. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I occasionally drink pickle juice, especially the brine in which the PickleLicious hot pickles come in. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Wearing sunglasses night (so I can, so I can, keep track of visions in my brain). PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,892. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.72 in Maynard, $1.67 on the Garden State Parkway, $1.94 on the Merritt Parkway. THINGS THAT LOOK BETTER IN THE DARK the economy, swordfish entrails, the 12x12 matrix for the Schoenberg Violin Concerto, my winter boots.

People on the left had to move in order for the ladybugs to get their hair wet. So we put a Post-It into the trash next to Racine's Pizza. At Racine's you could draw a slash through your zeroes to indicate frivolity, but they wouldn't give you a discount unless you danced to the Adagio for strings.

19 days since the last update, and two major cold snaps have come through, and it's been a total icebox. Plus, the last storm of a couple of days ago was a slopfest -- snow to sleet to rain -- followed by frigid temperatures making for iciness wherever you go. Since the last update, the last of the cues for Hecuba got written (by me), a recording session got scheduled for them, school started, I took a long trip, I missed a day to illness, and my employer became the object of much villification and hand-wringing in the local and national press. So, first things first.

Hecuba is over, and I have released the music, so to speak. I told J, the sound designer, that he can use the 33 pages of music I wrote, once it's recorded, any way he wants, including layered, backwards, speed-changed, sideways, what have you, or even not at all. Eric, who was to get me words for the chorus to sing, was involved in Brandeis emergency financial stuff as a member of the Senate council, so it came late, but it did come, and my settings for the chorus were simple and within a small range. And when it was done, there were scores and parts to produce, etc., all of which finished just in time for school to start -- the Wednesday before MLK Day. Dear reader, view the complete Hecuba cues with the link down and to the left.

And meanwhile, all the listening to the edits for the BMOP CD happened at Joel Gordon's house -- first listening for edits, then sound quality and balance. Coolly enough, the recordings had six tracks from six mikes, so one place where the piccolo solo got buried, we were able to get it to the front of the mix. And so on, and so on. It was a very fun couple of days with Joel and Gil. And Joel asked me to do a program for an extension of the Art of the States project he runs.

Soon after, I got the drafts of the CD booklet and art to proof, and it was fun to do that -- I had just a few comments. One WTF moment was an e-mail from Hannah (who runs the BMOP/sound label) asking me to register the music with Harry Fox so they could get a mechanical license, and I had no idea what that meant. It turns out that Harry Fox is a mechanical rights agency that a lot of publishers use, but CF Peters doesn't use them -- they take care of mechanical rights themselves. But now I know what Harry Fox is, at least in musical terms. So I got no info about an expected release date except that Gil had mentioned once the printing stuff was finalized, it was two and a half weeks to when a release could happen. And then I found the CD on amazon with a drop date of February 10. Woo hoo! Dear reader, BUY IT.

So I had a theory class and two orchestration classes to teach before the three-day weekend -- which should have been for me a four-day weekend if Tuesday hadn't been given a Monday teaching schedule. So in theory we listened to some Debussy and talked about ideas of tonality and ideas of variation, and in Orchestration I gave two rather dense foundational lectures -- including some terms that I think I may be the only one to use, such as handoff, composite gesture, composite instrument, timbre shift, etc. And as usual I used Manhattan Transfer's "On the Boulevard" to show a subtly produced vocal handoff for a backup line that covers two octaves. The class is slightly larger than the last time I taught it, and there seem to be fewer players of orchestral instruments in it.

Beff and I spent our MLK break doing what we do best, except with a storm the day before MLK Day, Beff had to go to Maine on Saturday, rather earlier than planned (she had makeup lessons on MLK Day itself), and a strange storm droped nearly a foot of the white stuff, so that meant snow-raking and shoveling off the flat roof outside the master bedroom window. Which I did, Oscar, I did. That, and a bunch of napping, dontcha know. We did do a little brief trip into Lexington downtown, eating at Bertucci's, just for the fun of it, and also a Friday lunch at the Cast Iron Kitchen, just for the food of it, and it was good. Shortly we were to discover in the Boston Globe magazine the Cast Iron Kitchen in the list of Great New Things In 2008 -- "Finally Maynard has good food." Which was fatuous, since Maynard has always had good food.

Later in the teaching week and at the beginning of the following teaching week I had to execute a handoff of my own, as I had a long and complex professional trip to take, and could depend on Yu-Hui to talk about clarinets in orchestration and variations in Theory 2. So my Monday theory teaching happened on Tuesday and my Wednesday teaching happened on Wednesday, followed immediately by me up and getting into my car and driving to New York. But let me back up.

Because of this trip, Beff took the cats with her to Bangor on that day before the snowstorm, which meant a strange emptiness in the house here during the dark times -- every little creak or banging of radiators first gave the impression that a cat was near. But alas, it was not so. On the plus side, there was no litterbox cleaning duty or water-changing, etc. The cats returned last night with Beff and were glad to be in a bigger house that has more warm places to sit (as Beff expresses it). After some checking out the place to make sure everything was still as it should be, they immediately wanted to go out the computer room window to look around, in the dark. And so they did.

So first I went to New York, where I had a nice dinner with Sergio -- whom I know from Civitella -- and his wife, who teaches at Columbia and thus I met them in Columbia housing, very beautiful, renovated. We had a campari and wine drink from Civitella and then went to a restaurant called Toast on Broadway and about 122nd for excellent beer and a spectacular burger. At least mine was -- and I also got us an appetizer of Buffalo wings, done in a nouveau way. Note to self: never be afraid to put a little cilantro onto Buffalo wings. Woo hoo!

From New York it was on to Burke, Virginia where I stayed a few days with the Colburns, took them out to an excellent barbecue meal, went to an excellent Marine Chamber Orchestra concert, then did pizza and salty wet snacks with them before it was time to retire. The concert was the same place Cantina was premiered, in Alexandria, and was an all-Haydn affair -- the trumpet concerto and the Bear and Military symphonies. The audience was very big and mostly AARP. The playing and interpretation were very good, and I only caught a couple of clams, one in a second violin upbeat, and one in a viola arpeggiation. I like Haydn, especially the part about listening to it.

As to the barbecue, which was the night before the concert, I got us some Buffalo wings, then I got the chicken and ribs combo plate, which came with all sorts of stuff to fill you up. Including corn on the cob, which I had some of before I remembered that corn is considered to be a possible cause of diverticulitis, and as you know, dear reader, I am sucseptible therein. The post-concert meal was a bit of order-in pizza that comes with potato on it (I didn't understand it either, but it sure was filling).

On Monday I had to drive to Baltimore but not until the afternoon, and the Colburns had morning stuff to do, so it was just me and Winifred (the dog) for a while. I took Winnie out for four walks, and she managed to expel waste on every one of them. And meanwhile, the cheerful forecast of sunny days on Monday and Tuesday was suddenly replaced by a winter weather advisory and a winter storm watch for Weather to happen in the late night after the concert I was going into Baltimore for. So I steeled myself to leave after the concert instead of the next morning, because I have experienced Maryland drivers in the snow -- the same people who make a run on bread and alcohol in the stores when a 2-inch snowstorm is forecast.

In any case -- the drive to downtown Baltimore from Burke involved using the famed Washington beltway as a road, and I got to Baltimore rather more quickly than I had planned. I parked in the neighborhood of the concert, had a chicken sandwich at a pub, and when 4:00 finally happened, I checked into a hotel and took a nap. After my nap, I packed my stuff and ambled to "An Die Musik", where the concert was happening. And what was this concert? A full recital by Amy Briggs, including a Gusty Thomas premiere, a David Smooke piece, and seven etudes of mine. Woo hoo! Amy and David and Judah Adashi (who runs the series and whom I know from Yaddo 2006) and I did a pre-concert thing with the usual questions about collaborations and piano writing and inspiration. Then the concert began.

Amy's playing was, as usual, superb, and David and I had to say a few things before our pieces, and I got a few yuks out of the usual jokes -- hey, after all, Amy was doing Schnozzage, not that there's anything wrong with that. Rachel's mom was there, and we got some autographs for her, there was a reception going on with lots of nice people, pictures to be taken, and around 10:45 I ambled to the hotel, checked out and got on the road. The master plan was to make it at least an hour into New Jersey -- where there were no winter weather advisories -- and nap or sleep in a rest area. But somehow my body refused to tire, so I kept going. After filling up in the Delaware service center, I up and went into New Jersey, and just kept going. It was spooky to have a large portion of the Garden State Parkway to myself, as well as the Merritt Parkway in Connecticut, and durned if I didn't pull into my own driveway at 5:50 am. So technically, I pulled an all-nighter. At 11:50 I reawakened from my postponed night's sleep, dealt with a large pile of accumulated e-mails, and went back to bed.

And woke up with a stomach virus. So I stayed home. Did my Thursday teaching, though, and I killed. Not literally. Beff got in the early evening with the cats, I made salmon and so on, and today Beff had some oral surgery. Now she's high on Advil and loving it.

Meantime, more people are asking for pieces to be written by me, and eventually they will be.

Upcoming are two normal teaching weeks followed by, already, vacation. Then during vacation I have to go to New York to meet with our accountant, take a train to Buffalo for a residency with Amy at SUNY Fredonia (Hail!) and come back. Not really much of a vacation, but it will have to do. Then at the end of the month it's a few days in Cleveland, after which my schedule thankfully empties back up.

But it sure has been cold here. As the weather people mentioned on TV (so it must be true), there was no January thaw this year. Cold damn.

Today's pictures begin with Gil Rose and Joel Gordon during the listening sessions -- Gil is wearing a mask that Joel had just brought back from Mexico. Following, my CD cover. Then a few highlights of the Marine Band display at the concert site, then two examples of window ice from when it got REALLY cold. Bye.

FEBRUARY 15. Lunch today was a Three Cheese Flatbread Pizza and Turkey Hill Diet Green Tea. Breakfast was microwaved fake eggs and cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner was a half-rack of ribs, and onion strings. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 2.8 and 60.3. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Dancing Queen (thanks, Beff). LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Shirts from Sierra Trading Post, about 50 bucks, PickleLicious, about 90 bucks. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Back in my font-making days, a software company offered me $5000 for a license to include 30 of my shareware fonts with their product for a year. The catch was that they had to be PC fonts, which I could not do. So I asked Eileen Wharmby, back in LA and a friend on the DTP forum on Compuserve, to convert them for me, and things were under way. The $5000 went directly to Columbia Composers, who bought a DAT recorder with the money for concerts, plus had a few more players available that year. The company had an option for another license after a year, but apparently they went out of business, or into another line of work. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: The cats are on their way back to Maine, and both of them were needy all morning. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances, Compositions. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: starbo, apparently referring to maple sap still on the maple tree that has frozen, melted, and refrozen several times. It is reputed to be a delicacy, especially if you don't mind the taste of stick. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 5. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE My socks are poorly organized. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Vice presidents with a 9 percent approval rating keep their mouths shut after leaving office. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,928. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.87 in Maynard, $1.89 in Acton at the place with a carwash. ROUND THINGS THAT WOULD LOOK FUNNY TRAPEZOIDAL my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

No dada paragraph in this update. It is the day after Valentine's Day, and I am on vacation. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Especially the being on vacation part. Nonetheless. Plenty has transpired since the January 30 update, and it's not very interesting at all.

First and foremost, there were two weeks of teaching and thirteen extra office hours for students in second year theory, who are writing variations. Plenty of them availed themselves, some a lot and some not so much. Plus, all of the brass section of the orchestra has been covered in the orchestration class, and that involved plenty of students (them) and faculty (me) demonstrating range, tone, mutes, and personality. While the office hours for theory continued and they are still writing varations, I started talking about writing for voice -- which included listening to a Wagnerian baritone recording of the Slow March that Ives wrote at the age of 14 about the death of his dog. Not on purpose, of course.

And meanwhile, there were TWO composer colloquia at Brandeis on consecutive Thursdays -- Rosenzweig of the Morris variety, and Diesendruck of the Tamar variety. Both were fun, worthwhile, and got the students talking. Of course thanks to the economy we couldn't take either of them out to dinner, as has been the case in the past. So we had to be sated with celery and cheap wine.

During this period, there were also three faculty senate meetings -- they're having a lot of them, thanks to what's goin' down in the economy -- of which I could only attend one. I was in Maryland for one of them, and was with the Lydian Quartet and Yu-Hui recording the Hecuba music during the other one (it was called an "emergency" meeting). The one I did attend was as it was designed to be, and it made me late for the Diesendruck colloquium of the Tamar variety.

Meanwhile. Beff was able to make it Maynardwards both weekends, and we took our customary walking rituals (we call them "walks"). On this weekend, on Friday morning, Beff got the stitches out from her oral surgery, and was much relieved, what with a piece of thread just rolling around in her mouth like that. While she was de-stitched, I was re-oiled, of the Corolla variety. At Jeefy Loob. After which I finally got my car washed, since the weather lately has been responsible for Mr. Salty Car. Indeed, that storm that chased me out of Baltimore so early arrived here a few days later (Wednesday, to be exact), and slopped up the place, and for days slopped up the cars. But you know that, dear reader. There was another Arctic blast after that storm, which I had decreed would be the last. So far, so good. After almost a week of sunny and very cold (meaning lots of icicles, and even the icicles clinging to the front of our house, in the shade), we had a real thaw -- two of them, in fact, which even included an overnight rainstorm with an hour-long downpour. This means all the roofs, including garage, shed, and gazebo, are now free of snow, and little by little the yard is reappearing. Beginning with near the stand of pines. And as a side note, I calculate it is 24 to 29 days to the first crocuses. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Of course, no music has been written in this period, but plenty has been splained. And some has even been recorded. But I am getting behind myself (assuming I switch roles).

Tuesday of this week was the big day to record the cues for Hecuba (after which I held two of those much-vaunted theory 2 office hours), and I must say it went rather well. The Lyds and Yu-Hui were the performers, J was the recording guy, and there were some undergrad sound people also there to get people to stop using practice rooms. We put down 12 cues lasting around 20 or 25 minutes, and J did a rough mix --- four of them are to the left and below, dear reader, in green. The in-and-out for the piano in the Overture was a bit much for Yu-Hui, or anyone, so some of the inside slapping and note stopping was done live, by me. Thankfully, there was no conducting for me to do, too. Before everything was settled, I made some sound effects inside the piano to be recorded -- harmonics and scratching -- and while waiting for some people to be shooed from the practice rooms, the quartet recorded some scratch tones, col legno, and glissandi, also to be used as sound effect. And so it was. N.B. the two "chorus" cues accompany stuff to be sung by the (duh, Greek) chorus, and are named after the most frequently used words in them.

And then at about 6:45 pm on Thursday my vacation kinda sorta started. Except for the small matter of spending a large part of daylight hours yesterday with my composer colleagues doing the first wave of graduate admissions. Any applicant looking in to see your status therein, we made no decisions, and will meet next on Monday the 23rd, which happens to be Droolie's birthday. And who is Droolie? You have to ask?

When I got back from the meeting, Beff and I did the walk to the Assabet bridge by the wildlife refuge and back, to be greeted on our return by a message from Mindy Wagner -- she and her daughter Olivia were in Sturbridge in a hotel and how about dinner? It being Valentine's Day, the Cast Iron Kitchen was booked up solid, so we got a bar table at the Blue Coyote Grill, and spent the whole time being excessively silly. Olivia is 10, so there's some energy there. Meanwhile, Beff and Mindy had soup and salad, I had ribs, and Olivia had ... I don't remember. Before dinner, though, we treated both Mindy and Olivia to at least four different kinds of pickles. After we showed them the gazebo in the dark, they went back, where they plan to visit Old Sturbridge Village today.

On Thursday, I got the second edits for Volume 3 of the 'Tudes with Amy, and on Friday spent a large part of the day listening. I came up with a few small issues, but they're almost ready, waiting just for the notes and album design, and rights clearances, and all sorts of other little details that add up.

Meanwhile, another package arrived from PickleLicious, which is good, because I ordered from them and they charged my credit card -- two gallons of hot pickles, two quarts of spicy olives, one quart of jalapeno-stuffed olives. They will be closed up in the basement for a little while, since the complicated second half of February will soon be under way. And what does that mean? It means the complicated second half of February will soon be under way, silly.

Tuesday I drive to New York, park, see Jonathan, our accountant, on Long Island, stay in a hotel, have lunch with Greg of Merkin Hall Wednesday, Thursday take a 7:15 train to Buffalo. Rob "Rob" Deemer picks me up, and that night Amy and I gale and regale a bunch of students and others at SUNY Fredonia, where it will not be hailing (it may be snowing). Friday I do ... I don't know what I do during the day ... but at night Amy does her Baltimore concert, possibly with a few changes. And there I will be. Saturday, back to NYC by train, then drive back to Maynard from there. Long day. Then teaching starts again, and Thursday of that week I fly to Cleveland, do things on Friday, Saturday, Sunday at Cleveland Institute of Music, where Claude Baker will also be resident, and Monday I fly back for my premiere of the Phillis Levin Songs with Collage. I may not even hear a rehearsal before the performance!

And then things quiet down. At which point I will be saying that I expect the crocuses in 9 to 14 days. But when I get back home, Beff will be back with the cats (you may have noted that she took them to Maine with her a short time ago), indeed, having been back with them for about four days. And she will be at the beginning of her two-week school vacation. Whoopee!

And the only other thing that takes me out of town is, for the third time, an Amy recital, on the 26th of March, at the University of Maine. I will drive straight from Orchestration, and make little "zoom-zoom" noises with my lips the whole way. Amy 'n' Beff 'n' I will all be a-stayin' in the little yellow bungalow, so cramped quarters will be the name of the game. Dimes, too.

Then it's like five or five and a half weeks of teachingness for me before our Passover break starts. I can already hardly wait.

One other yet-resolved issue is the BMOP CD Winged Contraption. All the online sellers have the release date as February 10, but my source (who runs the label) doesn't expect "product" till the end of this week. And boy oh boy, then there'll be no a-stoppin' me, no sirree bob. And with the cats out of the house again, it's weird hearing creaks in the house and thinking it's one of them.

Today's pictures begin with a snap from right after Amy's Baltimore concert as I am on my way out to drive a really long and dark time -- Judah Adashi, David Smooke, Amy, moi -- under that the asymmetric melting on the gazebo, since only the part that faces south melted -- to the right, the housicle on the front of the house from our weird cold weather. Then, three snaps from the Hecuba recording session. Bye.

MARCH 6 Breakfast today was grapefruit, light breakfast sausage, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was Whole Foods jambalaya, broccoli, asparagus, and salad. Lunch was nonexistent unless one hot PickleLicious pickle counts as lunch. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 5.5 and 60.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The "Something Will Happen" cue from Hecuba. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TWO WEEKS Hotel in New York $335, internet access in New York $28.08, Jonathan's tax return fee, parking in New York $152, parking at Logan Airport $109, baggage fee on Continental $15 each way, various lunches and dinners in Fredonia and Cleveland, final edits on etude CD $337.50. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was in sixth grade, Mr. Bostwick, our music teacher, arranged to send me to the high school district music festival at BFA, in which I played second trombone. For some reason, I was also made to play a solo for the solo and ensemble concert, and my selection was a cheesy arrangement of the triumphal march from Aida. This would be my first encounter with Verne Colburn, who was my accompanist (I didn't suck so much as I bit). As I may have reported in this space some time in the past, I purloined my parts from that festival, got a tape of the concert, and played along (much to the detriment of the sanity of my parents) for months and months afterwards. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They are very needy in mornings, follow us everywhere, and want kitty TV. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions, Reviews 4. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: trinstle, a wooden dowel painted with polka dots and used for obscure sacred rituals by people whose names lack an "n". RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 7. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE Beff and I own three air conditioners, but usually only install two -- the last time we installed the third one, in the guest room, a bird made a nest on it and raised birdlets. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: The story of Moses is conflated with the plight of the Republican party, and dittoheads are renamed bullrushes (rim shot, please). PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 12,942. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.87 in Maynard, $1.79 in Maynard. THINGS THAT WOULD LOOK FUNNY WITH A LANDING STRIP my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

No dada paragraph in this update either. 19 days between updates, and we have to hit the ground a-runnin'.

Since the last update, I have embarked on and returned from not one, but TWO complex trips, had world premieres in not one, but TWO countries, stayed in a hotel in New York City not one but TWO nights, and have done not one but TWO weeks of teaching, after not two but ONE week of winter vacation. Are you still with me? You can leave any time you want to, you know.

So first our wild and wacky weather. I hear from friends in New York that they got some snow on Monday with this surprise storm that zipped up the coast and gave us a big March snow (by virtue of the fact that it was snow, and in March), and they (actual people, not straw men) were glad to see it because New York has had so little this season. I'm here to tell ya that the Boston area is about two feet of snow above the average for the winter, so come on over if you like snow, and while you're here, shovel my driveway and walks for free. Free, I say, free! So the second half of February featured a-warmin' temperatures (thanks to my banning another Arctic outbreak, done in this space) and a slow retreat of the snow cover. Indeed, by last Saturday all we had left was the piles made besides driveways and the shadiest spots such as our front yard. Then, I got a call from Beff while I was in a restaurant in Cleveland warning me that snow was coming on my "day of return" (so called because it was the "day" of my "return") and indeed, she was right. Though Them What Make got the amount wrong, as usual. It was apparently a full-bore clobber, but only about 8 inches, not the double that that was a-fear'd. Hee hee, I said "that that".

So now the narrative. On the Tuesday of my vacation week I drove to New York City, parked, took my luggage and computer to Penn Station, had lunch at Charley O's, took a train on the LIRR to Lynbrook, and had my appointment with Jonathan for our taxes. This was a wild and wacky event that featured Jonathan leaving for a haircut in the middle of my appointment, and watching Geoff Burleson playing Clave on YouTube while Jonathan told a secretary "that's Geoff!" The K-1 from Beff's father's estate is STILL not here, so he can't complete the returns yet, but onward. So back got I on a LIRR train to Penn Station, and checked in I did at Park Central Hotel. Which had a super-discounted rate, and is right acoss the street from Carnegie Hall. And I didn't even have to practice! The super discount rate was a mirage, however: breakfast was not included (thus I got myself a nice little breakfast for $14 across the street), and internet access was $14.04 per day. Rasta rattin frattin.

Wednesday was a free day, so I did free things. Also, I took Greg Evans -- director of Merkin Hall -- to a nice Japanese place around the corner for lunch, and we talked about hall directing things. Then I bedded early because I had an early train to have been catching. Which means that on Thursday morning I up and walked the whole distance from the hotel to Penn station, beginning at 5:45 am. For you see, I was on a train, in business class, destined for Buffalo-Depew station in order to spend some time at SUNY Fredonia with Amy B and Rob Deemer. The trip was long, but I could do e-mail on my phone, and read stuff, and listen on my iPod, and see the GORGEOUS Hudson River scenery for the first two and a half hours, and watch the scars of the December ice storm in the forested regions transform gradually from severe to nonexistent. I also used the bathroom. And learned, for the first time, that Rochester has skyscrapers. And that Rome's train station is officially what you would call piddlin'.

Rob and Amy picked me up at the station and drove us through a bit of lake effect snow to Fredonia (they are so hardy up there that they don't consider driving difficult until it is complete white-out, which it was not) and to our vintage 1880ish hotel in downtown Fredonia. And boy was it cold! So after some setup and Amy's getting used to the piano in the hall, we ate with students in a cafeteria, and then did our presentation thing. It included both of us talking about our history, about toods, and Amy playing several both live and virtually (projected on the back wall from my laptop). Things finally got interesting (and possibly useful for the composition students) when we responded to questions and stopped using the microphones. Then back to the hotel for a beer (Southern Tier, on tap) and wi-fi (which worked in the hallway but not in my room).

Friday was a dense day, which included lunch with Rob at "Wing City" -- of the 15 or so wing varieties, we went with "Buffalo hot" and "Japanese", a public colloquium (I did the piano-etudes-lead-to-piano-concerto spiel), bloody Maries, the actual concert by Amy (smokin') in which I did my usual Davyspiel before my pieces, and a party at the hotel afterwards that featured cheesecake. I had SO much fun there and Rob was SUCH a gracious host and I ate SO many Buffalo wings that ... fill in the blank here and you may win a free glass of orange juice!

Next morning we were driven by Jay to the train station (me) and airport (Amy) and my ride unfortunately featured the transformation of business class to a frat house, as a bunch of loud and profane guys were a-takin' the train (or, in their words, the fuckin' train) to a prize fight at Madison Square Garden. Most of the guys had laughs that sounded exactly like Saturday Night Live parodies, but hey, I was a-livin' it! Anyway, when we were a half hour shy of Penn Station, suddenly the train stopped for a long time. A bridge had been raised for a boat and would not settle back down, and that bridge was on our path. So after a long delay, the train backed up and got onto Metro North tracks, then left us off at Spuyten Duyvil station, where a Metro North train came to take us to Grand Central Station (much to the delight of people already at the station waiting for a train to Grand Central who suddenly got to ride one for free). An hour and a half late we were, and in I got into a cab, got my parked car, and drove to Maynard. I arrived safely home at 8:30, thus making the length of my entire trip 13 hours and 15 minutes. Or, as my business class mates would have put it, fuckin' 13 fuckin' hours and fuckin' 15 minutes.

Sunday was my day of rest, and gearing up for teaching. For you see, I had to rest, and gear up for teaching. And teach I did. Wind ensemble in 'stration, and vocal writing in 'eory. But on Thursday out I was to go again, this time to Cleveland to see my old friend Keith Fitch at Cleveland Institute of Music, and Claude Baker, who was also out to be a-hangin' there. But I did not have to leave my house until 11 am, and it was kinda nice out. So I took some excess energy, removed two of the fence sections damaged in the ice storm, and stuck them in the leaf discard area. And THEN I drove to the airport. Uneventful was what was next, Mike Bratt picked me and Claude up at the airport, and Claude and I talked about old times and outpunned each other gradually. We got put into the Glidden House for four nights, and it is right next door to the CIM, and across the street from a ho-hum Frank Gehry building (oh, look -- it's got nonfunctional curvy metallic stuff on it like every other Frank Gehry building). Keith took us out to dinner next door to the Glidden House at Sergio's, a really fine restaurant, and on Friday we started our official duties.

Which for me included three coaching sessions with each of two groups -- Take Jazz Chords people and Gli Uccelli people. I'd never had that much time with groups, and especially groups that were already so well-prepared, so I had a hard time thinking of more things to say. Other than "well, you missed the C-sharp this time". In addition, Claude and I gave back-to-back colloquia (I did the piano concerto spiel again) on Saturday and masterclasses on Sunday (I had a great time at mine, and the students were very different from each other), a pre-concert thing on stage Sunday afternoon, and the concert itself, on Sunday. Everything went very well, and Keith's new piece on the concert was earthshakingly new and different for him, and good! Then, the reception was at Keith's house, food was had by all, Claude and I got some Burger King on the way back to our hotel, and we left for the airport, thanks to that same Mike Bratt, at 9:15 ("the crack of dawn", Claude called it) on Monday.

Now there was all this talk about a major snowstorm a-ridin' up the east coast on Sunday night and Monday, and I had visions of flights cancelled and having to rent a car to drive back, but my plane left and landed on time, I drove back home from the airport -- the highways were clear but the further from a highway one ventured, the more snow was left unplowed, and I live somewhat far from highways -- had a bit to eat, put on a stupidass tie, and Beff and I then drove to Alewife in order to make that night's Collage concert, featuring Judy Bettina and the premiere of my Phillis Levin Songs. The concert was off, off, and back on due to the storm (Judy knows Karen Zorn, the president of Longy, who opened the building for them, and it turns out Karen has played my music with Judy's husband Jim "Jim" Goldsworthy), and the performance was the first time I got to hear the music.

The concert itself was substantial and with a lot of hard music, and my piece came off very nicely. Though since I don't really remember my piece, I forgot to try and like it, so so far I don't because, like I already said, I don't remember it. But the fast stuff was very attractive on first hearing, and the slow stuff seemed too loud. Something to fix for next time. David Hoose did an amazingly good job for a big, big concert. And Beff did the driving home. Good thing, because Brandeis had a snow day (that's a non sequitur) meaning I didn't miss my Monday teaching. MWA ha ha!

Tuesday I went in to have office hours to assist theory students who are writing songs, Wednesday I did my usual teaching, Thursday I did my usual teaching plus 3 office hours for theory students, and then my weekend began. And here I am! Typing! On a computer! Today after this is finished, Beff and I will walk downtown and do lunch at the Cast Iron Kitchen, which is always good because it's the only place I can get one of our old standby "tremendous" beers -- Rapscallion, which they have on tap. And at 3 we get our yearly furnace maintenance that comes with our maintenance contract.

Other things to occupy my time include reading the daily Hecuba rehearsal updates -- at some point I am teaching the sung parts to the singer in the chorus -- and seeing in those updates how the music is being used, and now it has names that everyone uses. Including a Starry Night cue, which baffles me. I've also begun filling in my yearly Activity Report online, which is time-consuming, and, ultimately pointless, since it's a basis for yearly raises, of which there likely won't be any for the next three or four years anyway. Plus, I have indulged the obsessive side of my nature by "finishing" the plowing/shoveling job by widening the driveway, making it bow at the end, and making the front walk path less asymmetrical.

And my LL Bean lighted cap's battery gave out, so Beff got me a new one online. It arrived, and has a different design -- mostly so that now you can actually replace the battery when it is expended. As to the old cap -- we threw it away! And the on-off button is now on the visor instead of on the back of your head. So there.

What else have I done? Well, Judy Sherman sent the second edits and Amy and I sent in our notes. Now the Amy Volume 3 Toods thing has been mastered, I have a reference master CD, and I've paid the last for editing. It's ready to go, awaiting only production, the writing of the liner notes, and the selection of pictures and a cover. Not in that order, of course. As to the BMOP/sound CD -- I got e-mails from Hannah, the label's manager about production delays, with new arrivals predicted at February 18 and then March 2, and yesterday I got a note that they had arrived at BMOP and my comps were to be mailed out the same day. I expect them today, unless UPS or the Post Office suck as much as Them What Make. Or as my business class mates would call them, Them What Fuckin' Make. Of course that means some time spent sending free copies to People I Wish To Impress. I've already characterized this CD -- hey, 65 minutes of orchestra music, dude -- in my Activity Update as "take all my existing CDs, add them up, and multiply by 5. Add whipped cream to taste".

Meanwhile, Geoffy played a mean and badass concert in Canada that included the world premiere of my prog rock etude (among other things), and he repeats that concert at Hunter College on Monday. Thus making it the AMERICAN premiere of my prog rock etude. As they say in the oboe magazines, I rock. As they say in the bassoon magazines, rocking is done by me. I don't understand the joke, either.

If Stacy reads this update, I fully expect another "Hello, Mr. Wordy" e-mail from her. Because with her, accuracy counts.

So I had banished Arctic outbreaks from this area of the country, but apparently my banishment expired at the end of February. We had two days of it after the storm, but now spring temps have taken root, and are forecast to do so for some time now. Now I'll be seeking out the first crocuses, and taking lots of pictures of them, which will be nearly identical to all my crocus pictures from 2001 through 2008. But they will be mine. This coming Wednesday is the date of the earliest ones in my Maynard history, and the Friday of the week after that the latest. So I give this new snow until Tuesday to melt, otherwise I will make it go away by other nefarious means not yet known to me.

Beff is in Maynard for her two-week winter vacation, so there is much to do at home. Including actually cooking every night. She'll be away Sunday to Tuesday for chair stuff, but back she will be for the last bit of her vacation, and perhaps we will share crocuses. She is writing a piece that uses guitar, so the dining room has a guitar corner, which includes the appropriation of the organ bench as a guitar stand. Fascinating.

One more thing -- while I was in Fredonia, Maynard Door and Window replaced the can't-really-open-it, deteriorating big door from the side porch with a new high quality model that actually has keys and can be opened all the way. Which is a good thing -- moving the chaise lounges to the porch from the gazebo had to involve the kitchen and living room. Now moving them back doesn't. Also, I tell you now, when the back lawn becomes bare up to the driveway snow pile, out come the Adirondack chairs. Because, dear reader, I am a big fan of false recapitulations.

Upcoming is -- uh oh, I forgot I said I'd do this -- a colloquium at Brandeis, about me, and by me, on Thursday. It will actually be the first I've done in ten years -- the other being at the behest of Jim Olesen, who wanted to hear my then-new Orpheus piece and couldn't make it anyway because chorus meets at the same time. I was asked for a title for the talk, and I passed up "Some Crazyass Shit" in favor of "Fanfares and How to Read" because it's much more mysterious. And printable in a family publication. On the 21st Geoffy comes up to do a benefit recital for Musica Viva at the home of a local media celebrity, and I am to go, too (yes I will wear a tie, and nonwhite socks). It will be interesting to observe funding people watch a piano being played with the nose. On the 26th I drive to Maine after teaching Orchestration for Amy's U of Maine recital, where I will again give live program notes. And hope to eat a bit at the Sea Dog, because eating at the Sea Dog is what I do. Mr. Wordy.

Today's pictures include the metro north station where I changed trains, as seen by my phone; our new door, roof ice from most recent storm getting a-ready to fall; a sapsicle on one of our maple trees (it is toward the center of the pic); the rhododendron looking for a reason to start flowering; and the back yard two days after the storm. Bye.

MARCH 16 Dinner tonight was a Lean Pocket sandwich. Lunch was Trader Ming's Pad Thai. Breakfast was orange juice and coffee. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 19.1 and 61.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the slow movement of the Ravel Concerto in G. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TEN DAYS Stepladder at Ace Hardware, $83. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: At the Messenger Street school -- a four room school teaching grades 1-4 and in my neighborhood -- we had a game we'd play before school and during recess. Someone we be "it" and called Mr. Fox, and the non-"it" people would collect at the edge of the schoolyard. One would call out "What time is it, Mr. Fox?" to which Mr. Fox could say anything. But if Mr. Fox said "Midnight!" then everyone had to run to the other side of the yard without being tagged by Mr. Fox. I don't remember any other details of this game, or even why we played it so much. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They go out a lot now, and when there is nothing else to do outdoors, they just go under the gazebo. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Reviews 4. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: zippamoosh, a prosthetic elbow for retired gunslingers. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 2. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I can say and write "antidisestablishmentarianism" backwards on command. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: The headline "Cheney In the News Again" is forever banished from all media outlets. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,032. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.87 in Maynard. THINGS THAT YOU DON'T USE TO MAKE PANCAKES my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

Intransigence returned for a curtain call, and the dogs loved it. Or at least they did until the batteries wore out and we all had to remove our socks. But when the doctor arrived, the chicken snot was so full of licorice that we had to make people out of straw, and we discovered that there weren't enough washcloths. Maybe the fortuitous thing is that nothing caused the pinkness.

Oddly enough, another update a mere ten days since the last one. There must be something wrong with me, and shame on you for thinking that. Actually, much to report has transpired, and those of you who have been waiting with bated breath, and baiting with weighted breath about the appearance of the first crocuses shall have your answer. All in good time, my dear.

But first to report that Brandeis continues to be USC, only even moreso.

Secondly, we report that during most of this reporting period Beff was at home, and thus doing at home things, such as being at home. See, this is why Fortran doesn't allow recursion. She's been writing a piece for guitar and other instruments (or as they say in Italy, per chitarra ed anche altri strumenti) with an intrada and a galliard, and for the movement that was to be a sarabande, she asked for a hipper title, given that it had what she called "techno" elements to it. In our usual "what's my title?" walk, I suggested Techno Prisoners and Techno For An Answer, but those got shoved aside in favor of Zarabanda, which apparently was supposed to mean Big Sarabande. I suggested therefore Zanzarabanda, or Band of Mosquitoes. I won. I rule.

And also Beff participated mightily in some very serious spring cleaning, thus making useless two of Beff's shirts. We removed the screens from the side porch, and Beff sprayed them all with the Tilex bleaching stuff, and she also sprayed the whole porch in areas that seemed to have accumulated mold. In addition, she was able to wash the INSIDE of the windows for the first time in maybe twenty years. So it's brighter out there. My only job was taking off and putting back the screens, which given how long they've been in one place, was not easy. Indeed, one screen could not be removed because in trying to remove one of the screws holding in it, I could only break the screw. So I used the stepladder that we had bought so Beff could get up close to the ceiling there to clean the inside of the windows, opened up, from the outside. Which was a real trip, considering that one of the four legs of the ladder had to be on a frozen snowbank.

And meanwhile, I taught at Brandeis -- lower strings, with live demos, in orchestration, and Nuages in theory followed by performances of their art songs. I also spent a not inconsiderable amount of time working on my yearly activity update for my place of employ. I always wonder why one of the things you fill out is when your office hours were -- why does anyone care? And in today's theory class I did the cosmic lecture -- what makes something tonal, and how do you write music that's not tonal, and where do you get the permission slip. Etcetera.

Meanwhile, as predicted, I got my comps plus fifty more copies of the BMOP CD (Winged Contraption), which has now been released and press released and is the BMOP/sound official March release. See link below for the press release (mwa ha ha). Being that I was so accustomed to the all the music on live recordings, it took me a while to get used to this CD's big big sound and different balances, but it is totally a-rockin', I tell you, a-rockin'. Gil's effort was Herculean, and I'm not sure which mythic figure to reference for Marilyn's effort, but it was big, big, big. I sent out a bunch of copies to people I wish to impress, gave some around at Brandeis and listened to it a few times with headphones. With headphones you hear traffic in Worcester during the piano concerto, but hey.

And I didn't play ANY of it when I gave my Brandeis colloquium. Yes, I was made to do such a thing, and I played, in order: Violin Song 4, Moody's Blues (from YouTube), Sex Songs, Martian Counterpoint, and Cantina. I got funnier as the talk went along -- either that or people finally started understanding my accent.

See Reviews 4 for reviews of Don Berman's New York concert that included the two "pretty" toods I done wrote for him, and reviews of the Collage concert with the Phillis Levin Songs. Did *you* spot which one called me Daniel?

During non-teaching times, and especially when the weather was good, I did outdoor work around the stand of pine trees. Mostly, clearing out the crappy area that was formerly behind the fence we don't have any more because of the falling branches in the ice storm of December, and clearing out some more fence area. It involved 15 wheelbarrow loads of detritus, and a bit of repositioning of older branches. But we make some excellent progress. Soon Assabet Tree Service will have to come to take a bunch of this stuff away, and for the time being they may have a hard time getting their equipment in because the neighbor put a big pile of his snow in our yard -- right where the truck would have to come in. So Beff did a lot of raking, as did I, and I did the carting off. I also started clearing up the snowplow detritus from near our driveway, where there will have to be grass seed planted when the big snow pile finally melts. So there.

We had two quite mild weekends, and dear reader, I am pleased to announce a new record for first crocus -- on Saturday the 7th, about 4 or 5 cropped up, and by Sunday -- which was near 60 degrees -- there were a few dozen in evidence. And no insects. True to New England weather, on Monday the 9th there was a 2 or 3 inch snowstorm, which the crocuses weathered swimmingly (so to speak), all the while remaining closed up. And true to New England weather, it stayed coldish through Wednesday even though it was sunny, so the snow slowly melted but the crocuses remained closed. By Thursday we were doing the side porch thing, and by the weekend it was mild again, and many, many crocuses were in evidence. So there.

Other than that -- Beff had gotten me some more LL Bean baseball caps with the lights on the visor since the old one (remaindered, I think) ran out of battery and there was no way to replace it. The new ones DO allow you to replace the battery -- and I gave one to Eric Hill, who had drooled over the former, working version of the cap at a faculty senate meeting.

This week there is -- duh -- more teaching, and at the end of the week -- Saturday evening, to be exact -- Geoffy will be here to do a benefit for Boston Musica Viva. I have been listed on the composer committee for that, AND Geoff is doing two toods at the benefit, being held at the home of a local retired media celebrity. Beff will go, too. And Beff rhymes with Geoff, even in an imperfect world. Next Thursday is Amy B's U Maine recital, and I will drive to it (a mere four hour jaunt) after I finish with Orchestration. On THAT day we will have looked at the pedal timpani and gone ooh and aah. Then just a week and a half of classes till Passover break ...

The cats have much enjoyed the outdoors, especially this part where there aren't any bugs yet. Indeed, while I was sitting on an Adirondack chair, a fly landed on my leg and was too dumb to fly away when I swatted it. Oh, and the warm weather accoutrements now in place are thos same Adirondack chairs, the hammock (also needed to be sprayed with Tilex mold removeness), and the furniture and cushions in the gazebo. And the automatic door closer in said gazebo -- busted. I blame society.

Stacy did indeed read the last update and said she craved accuracy not so much as she craved brevity. I replied, "Blp."

Today's pictures include: this year's first crocus pic; Sunny on the gazebo on the same day; crocuses in snow; the screens awaiting a good a-sprayin'; the porch and the stepladder at the ready; a spread of crocuses a few days ago; and a before and after of part of the cleaned up area 'neath the spreading pines. Bye.

MARCH 31 Breafkast today was orange juice and coffee. Lunch was Annie Chun's Kung Pao noodles. Dinner last night was a forgettable Lean Cuisine microwave meal. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 21.4 and 64.6. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Trumpet solo in the fourth movement of the Rakowski Piano Concerto. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TEN DAYS Brush and ice storm detritus removal, $300; vacuum cleaner, $134. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When Beff 'n' I got married, Jeff Nichols and Allen Anderson were there to help out with Bible readings. Beff's college roommate Joan was the minister who married us, and set up a nice gender-neutral ceremony. Thus she had to interrupt Allen in the rehearsal when he did his reading more or less from force of habit -- "What God has joined, let no man rent asunder." "Let no *ONE* rent asunder!". That was a close one. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Since the cats go out a bit more often, Sunny is often out and gets excited at the drop of a hat, often climbing a few feet up the big trees before jumping down. Cammy still sleeps practically on my face at night. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Reviews 4, Compositions, Bio. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: ploost, the fabric on the corner of a lace handkerchief. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 6. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I haven't jumproped with my sweater in at least five years. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Free coffee on Tuesdays.. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,077. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.91 in Maynard, $2.06 outside of Bangor, $1.94 in Maynard. THINGS THAT TASTE BETTER WITH A DASH OF LEMON my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

Siblings are to the Chattanooga Choo-Choo what flashlights are to the economy of northern Brazil. Some of us remembered that on the test, but the points of light that seven of us didn't know about had been hanging at the end of a cigarette butt. The usefulness of that information was superceded by the color of a stick.

Where does the time go? Into a sinkhole? It seems like yesterday I last typed in this space. As it turns out, it was two weeks ago. Turn around and she's a young girl going out of the door!

The teaching of stuff continues on apace. We've been in a very pleasurable Debussy-Ravel rut in Theory 2, which has left a very nice Impression, and notice the capitalization there -- superious to Citibank's (rim shot). Tomorrow we do Berg and Dallapiccola, and what it is, too. In orchestration, we moved beyond string section writing into percussion, which turns out to be a huge topic -- I'll have to tie up some loose ends there tomorrow before I move on to the most confusing subject of all: the harp! Did Columbus Bring Enough Food to Go to America? The first of the percussion days began in the percussion practice room, where Josh, who is a student in the class, demonstrated a bit of everything from marimba to temple blocks (not alphabetically -- that went all the way up to xylophone, because there were no zygotes in the room). The second started in the recital hall, where everybody got to play with the pedal timpani. And at my urging, Josh showed them the suspended cymbal roll on the timpani with the pedal moving. Ooooh! I just hope that effect isn't like the octatonic scale is with a lot of composers -- something you regret ever showing them.

That weekend with the Boston Musica Viva benefit (say that five times fast) was actually rather big. The "media personality" at whose house it was was Joyce Kulhawik, formerly the arts reporter at Boston Channel 4, and the living room, with its 20-foot ceilings and balcony seating, was well-suited for a Geoffy piano recital. Geoffy, of course, stayed here, utilizing Brandeis for his day's practicing and Joyce's house for his recital prep, and the next morning he had to be off bright and early. Which doesn't mean we didn't make breakfast for him (Trader Joe's microwave French toast, and bagels). Geoff did some Liszt and Ravel, as well as two toods by me (Schozz and Moody's Blues), encoring with mine own Dorianski Blueski. It was fantastic. Dignitaries were there being dignified, and there was calcium being calcified, and never did any of that twain stuff meet. Except, of course, for the long twain wunning. Somebody stop me. We had to get there in the dark, and what seemed on Google Maps to be straightforward turned out to be anything but, which made us glad for our Garmin.

Geoff also brought programs from recent concerts where he'd done toods, two of which were the world, and then American, premieres of the prog rock etude I wrote for him, and on Rick Moody's suggestion. And he brought the recording of the American premiere, which I duly captured, and put into my webspace. Listening to it made me smile -- it is such a silly concept, and carried out sillily. See green "Prog Springs Eternal" link below and to the left. So then Geoff left, on Sunday morning, right around the same time as Beff.

And then, as has been the case for much of this month -- the weekend weather was a-gorgeous. Beff had had to go back a bit early for a concert on Sunday, but we did that nice walk thing -- even making the complete river circle thing we do. And during the week that followed, Amy B came to Maine for a concert, and drove I there to do our patented live tood program notes thing.

So after was done my teaching on Thursday, up drove I to Maine, getting to the University around 5. Beff and Amy were in Beff's office, and Amy had done her masterclass and practicing. So we had a light snacky dinner, went to the hall, and tried to warm it up with the stage lights. Because, you see, it was kind of cold. A small but very distinguished audience came to the concert, Amy did notes for all the pieces but mine, and her performances of nearly all the seven toods she did were among the best ever. After that, the three of us along with Jack Burt, the trumpet teacher, went to Woodmans in Orono for some beer and Buffalo wings (it was "b" night, luckily), and then at our teensy place in Bangor, we gave Amy the master bedroom while Beff and I took a futon on the floor of the computer room. The nice thing was the gel pillows from Tar-Zhay that Beff had secured, which were nice, and I liked them. And even brought them back to Maynard.

And back I brought them. But on Friday morning I had to get the Amester to the Bangor airport so she could return Chicagowards, and it was a pretty short drive. I got to show her our old house (so I did), which was on the way, but only if I went the way I did (which I did).Then drove I back to the house, had some of that coffee-flavored coffee drink, and drove home.

Now the previous weekend I started work on, and finished, etude number 90, a Goldietude, in honor of Marilyn Nonken's new daughter Goldie Celeste. Being that Goldie's full name is Goldie Celeste Hunka, the tood turned out to be on G-C-H, her initials. And what the heck, it's the first tood that is largely a process etude. No more details, except that some measure lengths shrink and grow by mechanical formulas much too complicated for your average platypus to understand. Plus it's got a long ostinato on the pattern where the cross accents are also the pattern. As we say in northern Tripoli, big yawn there, pardner. In any case. I finished it, you can see it via the red link to the left, and by finishing it I also finished Etudes Book X. Which has been sent to Peters, because it is what I do.

Also what I do is obsess -- in a mild way -- on my faculty activity report. Which is the report that determines the raises that no one is getting for next year, but might happen in the future if we all behave and don't steal too much honey; it also involves me having to update my resume, list of compositions, and press, which is no small feat. So finally on the weekend I finished and submitted it. Then during the teaching week I learned from Elaine Wong (a Senior Associate Dean, thus making her acronym SAD) that I am to receive Brandeis's highest teaching award at the Faculty Meeting this Thursday. It is actually a, um, kind of secret until then, but you, dear reader, get advanced notice of this. See the barely visible blue "Award" link to the left. Ignore the part about a "stipend", which in a USC year is just a word. I always thought (and may have said in this space) that if I was ever offered a teaching award that I'd turn it down. But when the call happened, my tongue was tied (I had been practicing sheep shanks), so I said Phbblt Yrx ("thank you" with tongue untied) and also acceded to the dreaded thing that happens when well-meaning people give you awards: the speech. Yes, I have to say a few words at an Appreciation Dinner, and I have to go to Commencement and sit on the Dais (or the 'Deis Dais, as they might say, if they are very silly), where the award awarding is reenacted. Luckily my robe has orange stripes.

MEANWHILE, that last weekend, the Assabet Tree people came over on Saturday morning to give an estimate to clear out all the very very much detritus, both from fallen limbs in the December ice storm and lots of tree trimmings from the last five or six years, plus finishing the takedown of the apple tree, and a mere two hours later the truck and the chipper were in the yard, going a-nuts. And they got it all! Plus it being spring and the truck being quite heavy, the far back yard is now textured -- it could be a teensy weensy motocross track, actually. It will be fun mowing that yard, since it will mostly feel like you're hitting turbulence. Or something. Plus, there was raking and packaging of sawdust, etc. to do. PLUS, an indentation in that yard that had been getting lower and lower got filled with extra dirt that the snowplow had left us, along with some bags of topsoil. And in it I planted grass seed. Why wouldn't I? And as to the scars left by the snowplow -- I planted grass seed there, too, and watered it. And then nature itself watered it.

And then Beff got back for the weekend on Saturday. I made some of that snacky chicken stuff on the outdoor grill, and the drippings made for some bigass flamy things I like to call "flames" that charred our dinner a bit. So I must clean that gross stuff out. But meanwhile, it made me think we need a new grill, so Beff started doing the online research. A new grill. I want it. Oh yes, and since Saturday was such gorgeous weather, we spent much of it outdoors, and I spent time both on the hammock and gazebo and took my ritual yearly pictures holding a beer in both places. You will see them below, dear reader. As to the crocuses -- they are gone by now, though the bigger versions of said crocuses are multiplying in many neighbors' yards. The rhubarb is emerging, and the grass slowly greens. So Saturday was a lovely outdoor type day. Unlike Sunday, which was torrential rain (it came in torrents, hence the term).

Beff decided it was time for a new vacuum cleaner (since the old one either sucked, or stopped sucking), and her sister had recommended the Bissel pet hair remover model. So it was a morning, in the torrenting rain, to drive Tar-Zhaywards -- which in Framingham borders BJ's. So we made it a double trip -- BJ's for massive quantities of paper towels and toilet paper (or, excuse me -- bathroom tissue -- for those of you with delicate constitutions) and Campari tomatoes (a Davy weakness), and it turned out BJs also had that model of vacuum cleaner, $15 less than had been in evidence at Tar-Zhay. So that's what we got. At Tar-Zhay, we got more gel pillows, and a pair of French press coffee makers. As well as some kitty treats. Because, well, because it is what we did. And we got them back in the house, we assembled the vacuum cleaner, and Beff let 'er rip on two bits of rug she'd vacuuumed the day before: the new vacuum cleaner sucked up a pile of cat hair from them the size of two fists (or one fist, twice). The sound of the vacuum also probably made the neighbors think we'd invited the percussion ensemble to the house to rehearse.

Nonetheless. Beff is currently in South Carolina at Coastal Carolina University, where she has a premiere and masterclasses. She then flies back to Boston, drives with her violin teacher colleague -- who will just have gotten off a bus from Bangor -- to New York for a festival, where she will stay with -- ka-ching! -- Hayes and Susan, and both will drive back on Friday. At which point our plan is to eat at the Cast Iron Kitchen, because -- well, you know what's coming -- because it is what we do. Saturday we plan to see the matinee performance of Hecuba at Brandeis, for which I wrote incidental music. And then next Wednesday -- is the day before Passover. I must teach, but then I have about 12 days off. Big woo hoo there, pardner. I'm getting pizza for the Theory 2 class, and talking about some Broadway tunes.

Last Monday, Frank Oteri had a nice write-up of the Winged Contraption CD on New Music Box -- see "FJO" link, and sometimes the streaming audio works, and mostly it doesn't. I was also asked some questions by the Composition Today website, and I gave the best answers I could. And then I stopped.

So finally. Today is a nice day, and I have no teaching to do. I have done my prep for Wednesday's teaching, so outside I go. This time, no pictures, please. Today's pictures start with outdoor kitties: Sunny under an Adironkack chair, and Cammy a-chillin' under the gazebo. Then the two ritual beer pictures. Finally, Beff in the gazebo, and the crocuses about to go on by. Bye.

APRIL 13 Breafkast today was orange juice and coffee. Lunch was hot and sour soup. Dinner last night was Trader Joe's pizza, some vegan Thai dumplings purchased at the health food store in West Concord, and some sliced campari tomatoes with Good Seasonings dressing. Good Seasons has not paid a promotional fee to be mentioned on this page, and neither has Trader Joe's. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 29.1 and 66.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The "Come to Jesus" track from Adam Guettel's Myths and Hymns. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TEN DAYS Weber grill $419 including tax, Hohner and Schoenhut melodicas via amazon, $88. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My first or second time in England, I was with Martler at a pub in Romsey, and after a few, I launched my over-the-hill tenor voice singing some of the pop songs that were current at the time. After a few minutes of such singing, the bartender said, simply, "We'll 'ave a little less o' that." NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: During this vacation week they sleep on the bed in the mornings, which has hardly ever been the case. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sharinole, a generic Danish word for detritus that collects in a hole or cavity. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 2. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I found my Yak Bak pen behind the CDs in the guest room after presuming it lost for 2 years, and it still works. Barely. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Every third beer is free. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,089. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.97 in Maynard. THINGS YOU DON'T THINK OF LOOKING AT FROM SPACE my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

Putting our heads into the spoon was a nasty tradeoff. I couldn't find where the beads had covered his birdhouse, so three of us made ketchup well into the night, after which seven things ceased to exist. Blimey! I couldn't get that socket wrench out of my head, so a monkey showed up, sang some George M. Cohan, and made a trampoline, right on the spot. The other pigeons burped.

I am on vacation. Which is not to say the same thing as I vacate. The latter might be associated with a colonoscopy, and boy, already I am making this update unreadable. Yes, I am in the midst of what is for all effects a full week plus two day vacation, and I have been accomplishing stuff. All in good time, my dear (for those of you who wonder why I type that a lot, it's a line from the Millay poem in the first of my Sex Songs).

Teaching has been teaching, and even though that seems commutative, it is not. I went to the faculty meeting to get my teaching award, which is a check and a hand-calligraphed certificate in a classy frame. The certificate hangs in my office. The check does not. A few times after said meeting, I burped in class, and then remarked, "I have tenure AND a teaching award. I get to burp whenever I want." If someone had had one of those rim-shot programs up, such a sound would have been entirely appropriate. So my teaching from last Wednesday -- the Schumann fantasy pieces in Theory 2, which came after I served three large pizzas (which cost about the same as one of my new melodicas -- more to come on that). The web of relationships inter- and intra-piece is complicated, and getting through it I knew was a) tedious and b) the only thing between the students and the beginning of their vacations. As it turned out, my vacation was in play, too. Nonetheless, there was eventually the Eureka! look on two students' faces, and that made the class worthwhile. So at 3:30 on Wednesday, home I came, and collapsed. Figuratively, that is.

This is weekend-strangeness time for Beff because of her own extracurricular activities, which means her Maynardwards time is very bendy in relation to what is usual. Because she'd done a big complicated trip, taking her away from her job for a full teaching week (the only possible response to that situation is "woo hoo!"), this past weekend was one where she had to stay in Maine for her job, makeup lessons, etc. Meanwhile, this coming weekend begins Tuesday night (relative to when I type this, "tomorrow" night) because the U of Maine band or something is playing in Symphony Hall (that's in Boston -- at least the Boston one is) and as Chair she has to be there. As for moi (that's a French word -- we cultured people sometimes sprinkle everyday conversation with parole esterne -- that's Italian -- and it means "me"), I'll be a-drivin' her in and a-parkin' her, since the area is my old stomping ground. Though being bored out of my mind for about three hours prior to the show is definitely on the docket.

And then Beff will have Thursday through half of Sunday in town. And just in time, since this is a sunny week, set to get nice and mild by Friday.

So Beff's previous weekend here was a bit cold and the like, but we were able to do our usual walks, etc. We had been shopping around for a new grill for the back porch for a while -- since the last time I used it there were big flames that charred the chicken I was grilling before it was actually cooked -- and Beff looked up Weber grills on many various web pages. We had even looked at one in person at the local Aubuchon hardware store, so we knew it was the right size, not too large, for the porch. Beff found it online for $70 less than it was selling at Aubuchon, and even though that meant assembling it ourselves (or actually, myself), it was a good savings. So Beff filled out the form to order online, and then it was shown: SHIPPING: $186. Hmm. Not much of a bargain. So this last weekend, we went back to Aubuchon and said we'd like said grill, how much was assembly and delivery. The answer: it's already assembled, and we'll deliver it for free, right now! Durned if the grill wasn't already in our driveway when we got back home.

So I took the propane out of the old grill, along with the grease catchers (known to mere mortals as empty soup cans -- or, formerly empty soup cans) and swiveled it sideways, thus revealing a path of grease that took us both 15 minutes to clean off the porch floor -- at which point we were glad we had replaced the old wood floor with fiber cement. I wheeled the old greasamundo grill to the back of the garage, wheeled the new one up, set it up, and -- I had forgotten that some grills have automatic lighters, as this one does, so no going into the kitchen for a lighter (the old starter on the old grill hasn't worked for about 4 years), and it worked! PLUS, there's a thermometer on the grill hood (bonnet if you're of the limey persuasion), and while I have no idea what a good temperature is for grilling, well, there it is. Plus, most of the inside pieces come out for cleaning (this was a real issue with the old one, which is part of the reason why we never did (laziness being another one) -- by the way, made by Sunbeam), the propane tank goes into the FRONT (which makes turning on and off easy). Immediately I went to Ace hardware and the Dollar store for grill paraphernalia (a scraper, a scrubber, and two sizes of spatula -- I believe in mathematical completion), hung them on the side (there are six places to hang stuff). And almost immediately therafter, Beff had to drive to Maine, where she's been since. All I've cooked on the grill so far are hot dogs and hot dog buns, but they were the best ones ever to come off of that grill. So far.

On the day BEFORE the grill-getting, we took the afternoon to drive in the wet to Brandeis to catch the Saturday matinee of Hecuba. I had written about 20 or 25 minutes of cues for the Lydian Quartet and piano, played by Yu-Hui, to be used in this production, and durned if J, the sound designer, didn't find a use for almost all of them. Indeed, before the show, there was a loop of seagull sounds (it happens in a coastal town, dontcha know), occasionally embroidered with some upward arpeggio cues that I wrote. And so forth, and so on. It is a fabulously depressing play, with lots of over-the-top grief, well acted and choreographed, and the singing cues for the one chorus member were welcome where they came. Indeed, the "Disaster Chorus" got repeated later as part of a big montage, and it was cool. Strangely enough, the curtain calls came to the sound of the overture -- a noisy bit -- and when it was all done, we drove back home. Because it is what we do.

Meantime. In the week of "harp and seldom used instruments" in Orchestration class, one student -- we will call him "Adam" because that is his name -- asked about the melodica. I'm sure no one else in class had any idea what that was (a mouth-powered little folk keyboard that sounds like an accordion with a really bad cold), and I immediately replied that Lee Hyla used one in his Polish folk songs, and that it was a feasible instrument to use to evoke (or evince) folk quality if you didn't mind its out of tuneness. But this got me a-searchin' on amazon, and they had a bunch of rather inexpensive melodicas for sale. I settled on a 32-key Hohner (for the cost of three large pizzas) and a 37-key Schoenhut (for the cost of three large pizzas and a steak and cheese sub), and they got here rather quickly. They were fun, silly, and borderline dumb, and for that reason I decided I had to incorporate them (or at least one of them) into the piece I have to write now. Really.

Speaking of which. I started said piece late on Friday of my vacation. It's a Pierrot-plus-percussion piece for Boston Musica Viva, and I have come to dislike that ensemble a lot. Indeed, last time I wrote for Musica Viva, in 1996, it was Pierrot plus percussion. And the Collage piece with Judy was for Pierrot, and ... well, I am tired of this group. So putting in a melodica is at least a bit of a challenge, and even if the music sucks, people afterwards will say to me, "So. You used a melodica." And I'll say yes, and I used saffron on the last pizza I made. Then they will, likely, walk away without saying anything. So I started it, and have three days work in the books, and it's ... okay. It takes off where "Stolen Moments" left off, and I am currently agonizing over the next thing to happen. But that's par for the course. Water under the bridge. Two shakes of the stick. A Post-It without borders.

But back to the yard. Thursday and Friday here were warm days. So when I got back from school, I started THE YARD PROJECT OF MY VACATION. I now seem to do one of these every Passover vacation we have -- last year the project was filling holes, planting grass seed and getting rid of the apple tree, and the year before it was taking down the backyard fence. This year, with the new foresty bit of yard that was behind what was left of the fence being exposed by the falling branches from the ice storm taking out three fence sections (go ahead and parse THAT, you stupid sentence diagrammers!), Beff had the idea that some of the piled-up foresty floor could become yard, and in an organic shape that mirrored where there was actually some sun during the morning. So, I started with the raking, and then shoveling of detritusy stuff into a wheelbarrow, where I carted it into the newly vacated way-back detritus space. Such stuff is fairly hard work for someone more than halfway to a century in age (that would be me), so it was two fairly grueling days of work. I also got fertilizer and topsoil at the hardware store, spread some of it into this cleared area, and planted grass seed. Now, we wait. Why? Because grass is not planted fully grown. Unless you get sod. Which I don't.

So with the rest of the week ahead of us, there is included a trip to the MacDowell Colony tomorrow for lunch with Yotam. Why? Who? I've known Yotam about six years but have never met him. So, lunch is a good idea, and a very pleasing drive during vacation. And of course, there is music to write, and bike rides to take. This we shall do. Incidentally, I did take a nice short bike ride on Friday, the first of the season, and felt disappointingly out of shape. This will get better, one would hope.

Easter was yesterday, and I went back onto Facebook, after having "given Facebook up for Lent". My first status update was "David Rakowski gave up Facebook for Lent", which got five "Likes." Weird. And this morning I made our plane reservations for the Auvillar thing in France this June. $1888 for both of us, but doesn't count as an expense, since we're being reimbursed. Or at least I hope we are.

Then when this vacation ends, there are eight school days left. Many office hours for final projects, many recitals to attend, and I've even been asked to play my toy piano at a "happening" for the Festival of the Arts. Hmm, this level of planning seems like being asked to be spontaneous, on my count, three, two, one, right ... NOW!

This week's snaps include the beginning of new piece (which is being conceived as a micro-concerto for Geoffy, the pianist) and the organic shape of the new bit of future yard, followed by two snaps of the second round of crocuses (the "large"), the new grill, and the new melodicas, and me mugging with one using the "tube". Bye.

APRIL 28 (with April 30 revisions) Breafkast today was orange juice and coffee. Lunch was a tomato, cheese and pepperoncini sandwich on a whole wheat bulkie. Dinner last night was a half rack of ribs, Buffalo sliders, and onion strings. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 29.7 and 88.9. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Dixie. Dunno why. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TEN DAYS Canon SX2000 IS camera with extra battery, card reader, carrying case, 8 gig data card, data card sleeve, $389.70 including shipping. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: The first composition judging panel I ever served on, prolly about 22-23 years ago, was a very inconsequential one for a Boston performance on an ISCM series. Pieces were submitted anonymously, which usually meant that correction tape was put over the composers' names. Some of the other judging types were pretty pompous (as in, "if you can't grab me in the first 15 seconds, I'm not interested"), but more disturbingly, many of us (moi-meme (that's French) included) held the cover pages up to bright lights to see if we could read the names of the composers. So much for anonymity. And the statute of limitations on that foul deed has expired, anyway, so you can't touch this. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Now that it's hot, they simply lie prostrate on the floor, on the furniture, on the lawn whenever and wherever they feel like it. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: goulardo, an especially tasty concoction of macaroni, beef, tomato sauce, and dandelion wine made once in Bavaria and then lost to history. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 5. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE Beff and I now own 5 functional digital cameras and 3 card readers. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Onion rings have half the grease and twice the taste. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,117. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.99 in Maynard and $2.03 at the Shell station in Waltham. WORDS AND PHRASES THAT DON'T RHYME WITH EACH OTHER my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

Intransigence. The word stared at me like puke being given to the Queen for the first time. After the fact, the fact was after, and before that we put extra syllables onto every glass harmonica we could find. Did the sun have a sentient presence when we asked it about our socks? Frankly, I think that we couldn't have put more jell-o into the fish's mouth than we had legs for.

Beff has discovered online that there is now a variant to your porn name. Mine, by the way (your first pet and the street up on which you grew) is Mercury Messenger. On the other hand, your NPR name is your first name with your middle initial inserted into it somewhere, followed by the smallest foreign town you have visited. So in my case, I am Davcid Castelluccio. Ask for me by name.

Last time I wrote here I was on vacation. Now I am very nearly on vacation again, this time school being out for the summer, school being out forever and all that. Since that last update, a little bit of microconcerto was written, Beff was around an inordinate amount of weekend time, and then she wasn't, and I have returned to that little ol' vocation of mine I like to call "teaching". Because that is its name. Today is a Tuesday, which means I have no classes to teach, and tomorrow is a Wednesday, which is my busy day -- AND the last day of classes. Though my long string of preparing for my classes is over. For you see, Orchestration carries with it three pizzas (the cost of a small melodica, shall we say) and Theory 2 comes with performances of final composition projects which I will record and make available to the Theory 2 students. But let me backtrack towards the rear of the time of this update kind of thing. Please.

So I managed around a minute 20 seconds of microconcerto music before I got to a texture change (or for you Europeans, a change of texture), and spent a whole day microadjusting rests, numbers of notes in gestures, timing of sustained notes, and so forth. Hmm, writing a substantial piece for an ensemble I loathe ain't at all like writing a tood, and what it is, too. And then Beff got back Toozdy night of that week because of a major fundraising event with which she was associated for the U of Maine. Indeed (and, dude!), the U Maine concert band and a band from a high school in Plaistow, New Hampshuh were to play a concert in SYMPHONY HALL. Yes, indeedy, they paid a pretty penny for that, in order to draw potential donors, otherwise known locally (and in the rest of the world) as "alumni". Beff had the concert programs and tickets, as well as a cash box ('cause you were like, supposed to pay ten bucks to get in), and they were heavy. Indeed, we resurrected, for the first time since I returned from Rome in 1996 the LUGGAGE CADDY THING. Which took a bit o' scrubbing and de-de-de-dusting to resurrect. And since the driving to Symphony Hall with all that stuff is both cumbersome and complicated (not to mention returning in the dark after the gig), I was enlisted as the driver.

This meant getting Beff to the parking garage near NEC before 4 pm, getting her and the STUFF to Symphony Hall, and then toodling for 2-1/2 hours before I was next expected. So in that time I walked back and forth through the shops in the Prudential Center, walked along Newbury Street, and had dinner at the Pour House on Boylston Street. The last time I had been to the Pour House was in the spring of 1988 with Julie Koshgarian, and I remember it being a dive with very cheap beer. And so it was. I got Buffalo wings (big plate for $5.75), a salad, and an IPA beer (anonymously -- they didn't say who made it) as big as my head. All of it for 20 bucks including a very substantial tip. Wow. (I e-mailed Julie that in another 21 years we should go again. She said she might be busy that day) And so I walked a less-than-straight line back to Symphony Hall after dinner, and hung out a lot while U Maine alums filed in, made a brief appearance to see U Maine mucky-mucks in the cash bar reception room, and listened to the concert. And boy -- all those band cliches that sickened and nauseated me way back in 2000 when I was getting ready to write Ten of a Kind -- they were all there in the high school band program. The U Maine band -- more sophisticated, harder, better sounding, and a slightly decreased density of cliche. So after was done the concert, off back we went to the garage of parking, and drove I to the usual Copley Square entrance to the Turnpike and .... it was CLOSED for construction! Those intercoursers! So this is why it was good I was there -- I knew how to get to another entrance to the Pike. Which involved getting to Newbury Street, crossing Mass Ave, etc. When we got home, alchohol was consumed, and by us, in the passive voice.

Meantime, I had terminated our home delivery of the Boston Globe and started a Weekender subscription to the New York Times. With the Globe shrinking and shrinking and the arts coverage getting marginalized into the section with the comics, the impending price increase was a tipping point. So that weekend the Times home delivery started, and it was remarkable. In fact, Sunday morning, Beff brought in the paper and remarked, "Hey look. No crap." Which of course meant that there was less clipping of supermarket coupons and more actual reading about stuff. It's too bad that the New York Times still uses the New York Times music critics, though. Because their stuff is still pretty much unreadable.

And speaking of terminating -- I'm off Facebook for good. I was on for a week and a half after Lent was over, and I spent a bit too much time on it, plus the screens were full of lists of 5 things and lists of 20 or 30 things from all kinds of people that were just over the top dull. So gone, and hopefully, as they say in the bassoon world, faggotten.

Some time during this vacation time was spent doing yardy stuff, and that included expanding the reclaimed under-pines area and planting more grass seed. And has been the case for several weekends, the weekend was pretty durn nice. One of our old garden hoses was leaking, so we tossed it and I went to K-Mart for a "medium duty" garden hose. It leaked terribly. I took it back. Next, Ace Hardware in Acton for a "medium duty" hose for $20 more. It, too, leaked. I took it back. Then to Stow Ace hardware, where I got a "heavy duty" hose for yet $15 more, which ALSO leaked. So, I figured the 50-ft hoses I was chaining together might work better as just one 100-foot hose (as the spray nozzle attachment is permanently stuck on the remaining non-leaky hose), so I took THAT back and got a 100-foot hose, nozzle, and sprinkler attachment. Success. Watering of the new yard area succeeded. And then, I spent the latter part of that Sunday doing what I like to call "hammocking". I don't remember whether or not it involves using a hammock.

Then began again the teaching, and fun was had by me. There was Broadway tune day, in which I went through a bunch of stuff designed for musical theater, including the Susan Boyle tune from Les Mis -- as they say in pretentious educational circles (also in the trapezoids, which are rarer), I turned the huge internet phenomenon into a teaching moment. And there wasn't even enough time to get to the Adam Guettel tunes I like so much ... in orchestration was ways of grouping the orchestra hierarchically followed by score and parts layout. And for Theory 2, which is doing final projects and the like, I started a massive office hours trope: 13 of them in toto. Theory did not meet on Wednesday because it was Brandeis Thursday, and what it is, too. So, there were 6 of those office hours that day. And at the end of the day Wednesday was a happening in Shapiro Campus Center to kick of the Festival of the Arts. I brought a toy piano and melodica and was slated to play for six minutes -- some of that included me playing a "bass line" on the melodica while Neal Hampton comped some C blues on the toy piano.

And during that week I plowed through some more notes of my microconcerto.

Meanwhile, toward the end of the week, the temps finally exploded. It had not gotten above 68 and suddenly it exploded into the upper 80s, setting two high temp records for the weekend, and today is hotter still. It is 87.6 degrees at 1 pm as I type this, and going to the low to mid 90s. After which it will return to "normal" in the mid 60s, which will still be pretty durn nice. And since Beff was stuck in Maine for the hot weekend, there were bike rides for me to take alone (the Boon Lake ride, the Maynard circle, the South Acton train station ride), hammock time with Sunny, and gazebo time. Oh yes, and I had more ... office hours ... on Sunday, a day it got up to 88.

I had, however, noticed, while the cats were doing kitty TV, that there were scrapes and nicks on the bulkhead (the direct entry to the basement from the yard) with some rust associated with them. The nicks could have been caused by workers stepping on the bulkhead while doing the new siding last summer, or ditto for the painters. So I stopped briefly at MDAW for advice on re-rustproofing it (while sighing that I could have chosen the wooden bulkhead door option), and I got advice to "scuff" it with 100 or 80 sandpaper before applying Rustoleum. So off I went for a can of green rustoleum, a paintbrush, and two "sandpaper sponges" of 100 coarseness. After sanding down the rust spots, I opened the rustoleum and discovered that a 4" wide paintbrush for a can whose opening is about 3-1/2 inches is improperly sized. Square peg in a trapezoidal hole and all that. So, sigh, off I went for a 2-1/2 inch paintbrush, and on this Friday, I painted as smoothly as you can with an oil-based mix. There was so much left over that I applied another coat on Saturday, and that meant getting another paintbrush. And now the bulkhead is very shiny dark green, and a solid color. And one of my cuticles continues to resist becoming not green.

Then again began teaching, which was yesterday outdoors for Theory 2 as we discussed everyone's final project and I had a teeny boombox and battery-powered keyboard at my disposal (and beck, and call). I had some free consulting time during the day, and in the morning was a nice old PhD oral exam (his teeth were fine). And when I got back I immediately went to Ace for more fertilizer and topsoil so I could patch up the part of our new yard where grass seemed NOT to have taken root. And that is what I did.

Meanwhile. Geoffy is out and about for the Musica Viva at 40 thing, and last Friday we turned his presence here into my usual Friday lunch at the Cast Iron Kitchen recast as a duo. Then he went back to do auditions at his 'hood, Hunter College. Back he got Sunday night, and last night we did dinner at the Blue Coyote Grill in Maynard, hence the dinner up above there. And he practices at Brandeis during the day. At night, who knows? Oh, right. Blue Coyote Grill.

Last Thursday Gusty Thomas came for a colloquium, which was pretty much the most well-attended colloquium since I've been here, and it was very, very good -- playing music a lot more than talking about it, and then answering the questions that normally arose. Then we did dinner at the Treetop restaurant and I had the garlic salmon and tom yum soup. Because, you see, it is what I do. At the reception afterwards, I drooled over Eric Chasalow's digital camera of many bells and whistles (including 12x optical zoom, automatic settings, etc.), asked him the model number, and durned if I didn't up and get one myself. Indeed, said camera arrived via UPS this morning, and I have learned some of its functions already -- hence the pix that will be showing up below.

Meanwhile -- tomorrow is last day of classes, and it says above what will happen. Monday, all the final stuff is due, as well as my grades for anyone graduating. Then what's left is a faculty senate meeting, department luncheon, faculty appreciation event at which I must say a few words (I am practicing saying "glurp mov naxxy" with a Slovenian accent), commencement, jury duty, performance of Stolen Moments in New York, trip to France, and ... but I am revealing too much. Or going too far into the future, or something.

So with it being HOT here I have debated whether or not to install the air conditioners -- given that the next time they'd be turned on after today is likely mid to late May -- and it's not important what I decide. I will probably ... not.

So many concerts to attend this week -- Nina's song concert, Alexander and Gil's recital (with the premiere of High Def), Brandeis new music, and other things that use vowels in their names. Then, well, you have that list up there. TODAY -- I have already taken two bike rides. TOMORROW -- is Wednesday.

All of this week's pictures were taken with the new Canon camera except the first -- we have Sunny looking out Kitty TV and giving a view of daffodils and distant forsythia -- then the 2-year old asparagus from Mindy, already too late to pick it -- the current state of the reclaimed area (the outer strip and some of the other area have been reseeded with more grass) -- an auto-macro closeup of a grape hyacinth, and two views of Sunny using the mode that isolates one color and makes everything else black and white. Cool, huh?

MAY 12 Lunch today was a blackened chicken Caesar wrap and some calamari appetizer. Breakfast was the Red Sox special on a bulkie from Prime Deli, down the hill from Slosberg. Dinner last night was jambalaya from Whole Foods and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 42.6 and 92.9. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The scales that Beff is playing in the other room. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TEN DAYS None that come to mind. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I was the lead character in our senior play, The Imaginary Invalid, a Moliere play in a high school adaptation. My character had no name, but I pretended it was Argan Rashforth, and I used that alias in a few competitions. I was unprofessional in two ways -- by saying "Oh Snowflake!" instead of "Oh horrors" at one point when Margaret and her mother were in the audience -- and emerging after "hiding" under a sheet, seeing the shadow of my fluffy hair (it could be fluffy in 1976) and I cracked up. Terry, who played the maid, had to ad lib to get me to be serious again. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny looks cute chasing bugs outside, since it seems to happen with great spontaneity, and you can't see the bug. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: pippilage, a process of granting promotions within the servant class. Fell out of use in the 16th century, back into use in the 18th, back out in the early 20th century. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 7. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I have no idea how many Flash drives I own. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Counting backwards is really funny. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,200. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $1.83 and $2.09 in Maynard. CUT THE PILLOW LABEL OFF IS THIS IS ALL IT SAYS my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

We decided to use the Dutch spelling, "trippel", because it looks better in brown. On the other hand, the nefariousness of tree robbers makes me think about the way I used to eat pudding. So everything was made available to us, and that seemed to cause dogs to find fault with each other. But seriously, my fingers didn't waffle the way they used to when pink cash registers were all the rage. So I ate some tuna.

Since our last update, dear reader, were two mini-updates -- for those of you who didn't catch the mini-updates, it was a tedious paragraph about me painting the bulkhead (external entry into the basement) with green rustoleum, and me announcing that I'm off Facebook for good. Or for evil, I'm not sure. Other things that have happened include the end of school, grading, entry of grades and the like, and the like, meetings, more meetings, and more meetings. As of today all that is left for me is to sit on the dais (which I now have heard pronounced day-iss, so I can say it out loud -- not like Brand day iss) at commencement, and I'm through. Followed by, on the very next day, reporting for jury doody. But way ahead of myself have I gotten.

The heat wave finished up with a high of 93 on the day of the last update, which was the second warmest April temperature on record here. the warmest being 94, which is higher. Since then, only a few dashes into the mid-70s threaded between very nice sunny dry days in the 60s, and one dreary day it was rainy and 50.

So there was plenty more yard work since last time, and I'm finally finished planting grass seed in the new organic reclaimed area of the lawn (see tedious narrative-in-pix, below), and there was the first mowing, finally, of some of the faster-to-grow stuff way out in back. After a pause of a little more than a week, it was time for the first full lawn mow of the year, and I was reminded (by doing it) that it takes an hour 45 minutes and a little more than a tank of gas in the lawnmower. This was on a strangely humid and warm day, so it felt good indeed, ending in t-shirt and shorts only.

Also, the bike rides are getting somewhat longer and more ambitious now, when they are taken at all. The Boon Lake ride is most popular right now, and I now know that the old mangy dog in the pink house on the far side of the lake is named "Goosy". Obviously because the old lady who owns it asked me, in the least pleasant voice ever, "Did you come to see Goosy?" No answer gave I except to award said Goosy a dog bone. Because, you see, it is what I do.

We also went to K-Mart to get tiebacks for the curtains in the bedroom -- after Beff had got new curtains for the bedroom -- and noticed the usual spring confluence of plants for sale out front. We got some catnip and some mint and I planted them by the back porch. Sunny discovered the catnip and nuzzled away and got real spacy, so we decided to get yet more catnip and mint and plant it all around -- including by the bulkhead, by the garage, and in the new organic part of the lawn. The cats do find it and nuzzle on occasion, but so far it bounces back -- leaner yet meaner -- after the experience. We think it's cool.

And of course I have had plenty of hammock and gazebo time, as has Beff, who has also had plenty of Adirondack chair time. For you see, her commencement happened already, and she is back, sort of, for the vacation. Though, being Chair and all, she has stuff to get back to Maine for. Not even included in that is Maine All-State at the end of next week. So there.

Before Beff went back Mainewards, we stopped, in her car, at the local Cumberland Farms, who sell Gulf gasoline, it seems, to fill up her tank. There were a couple of guys there letting everyone know about a promotion involving our Shaw's cards. Now everyone has got Shaws and Stop and Shop and Hannaford cards, since the daily specials only take effect if you use the card at checkout. We had to get new Shaws cards because suddenly the old ones would expire in five days and ... for the moment it also takes longer to check out because everyone in front of you is being told to get a new Shaws card, etc., and they have to be filled out, but anyway ... These guys told us we'd save money on gasoline if we'd spent as little as 50 bucks at Shaws in the past week -- 10 cents off per gallon for 50 bucks, 20 cents for 100 bucks, etc. Beff had the large wallet version in her wallet, so we did what they said -- swipe credit card, swipe Shaws card, and BEE-OO-BOOP (the sound I imagine the pump made), the 2.03 per gallon magically bee-oo-booped to 1.83. So for a few minutes there, the coolness factor made us want to do yet more shopping at Shaws, nay all of it! Until, when doing the math, you realize I get 8 gallons when I fill up normally, and do I really want to pad my spending to a hunnert bux a week just to save a buck eighty at the pump? Answer: only to see the bee-oo-boop thing. Later in the week Beff found my wallet-size card, and when I filled up a second time, I got ... ZERO discount. No bee-oo-boop whatsoever. Bee-oo-boop-free zone.

But back to where we left off. My string of concerts-must-be-attended happened, starting with Nina's song recital, which was a very nice affair. Her band was a bit loud and inflexible, but that will improve with time. Then there was Gil Harel and Alexander Lane (both of them appear on the Home page here as 5-letter people, in slightly different spellings), who gave a 2-pronged recital that included (and started with) my own "High Def" which I wrote for them on the text "Hey Davy". I Flip video-ed it and stuck the sucker on YouTube, and so far 3 people give it five stars. See the "High Def" green link below and to the left. The second half of the concert was an arrangement of the Eight Songs for a Mad King for piano -- where a score is torn up rather than a violin smashed -- that came of very cool and entertaining, and as Gilad and Alexa marched off, Gil howling "Howling!" from offstage for what seemed like forever, it was very funny. And the applause was organic. Then was the graduate composers concert, an affair with nine pieces and some of them for as many as 14 instruments. I excused Beff from that one -- it promised to be long -- but it ended up being a thoroughly enjoyable affair, no clunkers or even semi-clunkers, and some pretty spiffy orchestration to boot. So that's TWO really fantastic grad concerts I got to see this year, which exceeds the average by ... by ... by I won't say by how much, since some of the old guard (le vieux garde) may be reading this. I assure you, it is a real number.

Then of course Beff was gone for almost a whole week, getting back late Saturday instead of Thursday night -- she made it back from her commencement in record time, remembering correctly to bring our shared stripy Princeton robe so that I can sit day-iss-wards. Oh yeah, and what did I do that week? Poring over final orchestration portfolii and reading final papers for theory took about three working days. And of course there were meetings to attend, including a faculty meeting and a faculty senate meeting. I always like the last faculty senate meeting of the year, because no one is looking to form subcommittees, and I don't have to practice my invisibility skills (undergraduates are better at it than I am, anyway).

Geoffy was still out and about for the beginning of that period, and we did another Cast Iron Kitchen lunch, which was good, and Geoffy had some leftover chicken which he forgot to brink back with him. Geoffy, Beffy thanks you for the chicken.

Meanwhile, Yu-Hui helped me discover other features on my new Canon camera -- which, by the way, I dropped onto some tile and it doesn't seem to have sustained any noticeable damage -- one of them an extension of the feature you saw in the last update, where a color could be highlighted and the rest of the picture be made black and white. The extension is that a color can be isolated and another color substituted for it -- my first manifestation of that being the Matisse "The Red Studio" poster in Yu-Hui's office turned into The Green Studio. Or, the color of the sky here turning to red (the red eyedropped from the taillight on my car) or the forsythias coming out red instead of yellow. So that is what I did.

Meanwhile, I got what seems to be a persistent but weak back-of-throat thing that cause coughing, some of it deep, but not all that often. I don't love it when that happens.

Otherwise, people have been e-mailing me and asking me to do stuff, and if I do any of it, I'll let you know. Just a teeny bit of work on this Musica Viva piece got done since the last update, but a major breakthrough happened under the influence of Alka-Seltzer Plus Nighttime just this very morning. A complicated dream last night was accompanied by a celesta-like ostinato on F and E-flat, and the idea is to use it as an unchanging -- except in color -- ostinato in the slow movement. So there. Meaning!

Tomorrow we drive to Northampton to do a bit of shopping in the oh-so-tony places downtown followed by lunch at the Brewery with David Sanford. It could be fun -- I like their spicy wings, so there. Thursday or Friday I have to drive in to get my commencement regalia -- actually, I just need the mortarboard, since I already have a robe, and you can't get a mortarboard without getting a robe, so there you have it. And by the way, I've heard that Big Mike is making an appearance at the mini-commencement -- which I'm not going to -- to hood his dissertation advisee who finished this year.

Meanwhile. I cut our asparagus to see when and if the next generation would grow back. All seven plants have now yielded something, though at vastly different times. And the rhubarb is huge (which is what they all say)!

After all of that it's jury duty, as you know, BMOP concert on the 22nd, Stolen Moments in New York, go to France (we bought earplugs specially for the occasion), return from France, etc. And now I know there's a Yehudi birthday concert at Brandeis given by the Lyds -- on MY birthday. Talk about cutting in!

Nice and short this one. No Mr. Wordy I. So there's nine pictures instead of six, as follows -- colorshifted pix from the backyard; colorshifted forsythias; a super-closeup of a wilted daffodil that came out better than I thought; then a five-picture narrative of the new organic and sculpted part of the yard going from mid-March to this afternoon. Bye.

MAY 26 Breakfast this morning was cherries, limeade, and coffee. Dinner last night was teriyaki chicken kebabs from Whole Foods, salad, and 1999 Brunello. Lunch was red curry soup with saltines. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 38.3 and 88.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS A Brahms Liebeslieder waltz, in A minor. LARGE EXPENSES THIS LAST TEN DAYS None come to mind, but there's a birthday present for Davy in the offing. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: After sophomore and junior years of college, I worked as a security guard for MSI (Management Safeguards, Inc.) at Jordan Marsh on the graveyard shift. That involved three tours through the whole store -- the new one and the old part -- during the shift. I would occasionally make free phone calls on the WATS line in the executive offices, or do dumbass things like take light bulbs and toss them down an eight-flight staircase just because I could. Oddly, during our non-tour time we could do as we pleased as long as we stayed at the "time desk", so I wrote music there. It all sucked, but only because everything I wrote at the time sucked. I made $2.30 an hour and then $2.45, and was at times sufficiently poor that I would eat relish packets for dinner. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny nuzzles the catnip plants outside, gets high, and has so far destroyed two of the six that are available to him. Cammy doesn't seem to notice. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sprink, having nothing to do with spritzes of rain, belt buckles, or foreign pronunciations of la primavera; it's related to a garter, made of leather, and keeps underwear from bunching up. fell into disuse in the late 19th century. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 9 (Fromm commission season). FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE The first piece I was able to play on the piano from memory was the "Our Director" march, in F major. I can still play it, and with the ridiculous fingerings I made up way back then. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Words that begin with "kn" now begin with "kgn". PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,242. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.29 in Maynard. SECOND VERSE SAME AS THE FIRST: my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

Today we do without the dada paragraph. I have been sick as a dog (an expression I don't understand, or which seems insufficiently nuanceable to be useful), with recovery coming only very slowly. Beff got a slightly liter version of what I had, so we are out of phase, meaning I must be a bit more recovered. My symptoms included a return to the classic vertigo, in varying manifestations -- at times if I laid straight back, I would get so dizzy as to be very nauseous, have to sit up straight, and take several minutes to recover. A few times lying on my right side would cause dizziness after a while, and if I were dreaming, the dizziness would be part of the dream. Weird. Another manifestation was a persistent cough with unbelievable coughing fits. And -- I'm not sure if this is a symptom or a benefit -- occasionally I could see the future. For those of you wondering -- Rush Limbaugh stays fat.

I had to accomplish and do much in the intervening two weeks, however, despite my time of infirm, so I scheduled it in between sickly manifestations. All my grades got sent in, and I did go to the faculty/staff appreciation thing where teaching award recipients were feted. When Dan feted me, the entire semester of hijinks was conflated into "the first day of class", but that's okay. In response, I used my Perrier bottle to demonstrate how the size of the resonating chamber affects the pitch it resonates. Thankfully, I did not also demonstrate overblowing. Thankfully for them, that is.

And so Beff hadda be in Maine for various academic stuff part of the time, and I hadda mow the lawn twice. The new bit of lawn sprouted up nice and green, but some seems to be fading or even dying due to the lack of rain. Well, you can only do so much. But lawn mowing is a nice bit of exercise when bike rides are impossible because of infirmity, and our lawn takes an hour and three quarters to mow. Ipso facto! I did manage a few bike rides on the warm days, but mostly short ones. Once the cold abated sufficiently, I started doing the longer ones, including the one that goes through Stow toward Hudson, goes beside apple orchards and comes back to the Assabet rail trail thing. And my legs have recovered to the point that the hills don't wind me no mo'.

Meanwhile, we did make our sojourn to Northampton, right at the beginning of the worst part of the cold, and we did fine. We saw David Sanford and had a great time at the Brewery, and the sum total of my purchases there was mortarboards and two rubber balls. I got the Buffalo wings and David didn't, and neither did Beff. But the beer was nice. So there. The cute thing about the drive back was programming our house on the Garmin GPS and going NORTH out of there on Route 91 to Route 2. The Garmin would have none of that, and wanted us to turn around and go south, and it kept trying to get us to exit, turn around, and change direction. So our original arrival time of 5:34 kept getting later as we ignored it ... and it was at 5:57 by the time we got onto Route 2, and it STILL wanted us to turn around. Finally we went through the traffic light on Route 2, and it got that we could do Route 2, and revised the arrival time to 5:14. Meaning we chose the faster route in the first place, so there.

And on the 17th, I did commencement duty. Using our stripy Princeton robe and a rented mortarboard, I went to the Brandeis graduation, hung out in a stuffy room with important people (such as Marilyn Horne and James Conlon) for a while, marched onto the dais with the important people, sat there for a long time while it was very hot, and got out of there after a ceremony that was about 40 minutes longer than last year's. I stood up and was visible on the jumbotron when my name was announced as the recipient of a teaching award, and then I could do what I wanted to do, as long as that involved sitting down for a very long time. And then I became free, at least until late August. I celebrated my freedom by being free. Except I wasn't. Because...

I had been summoned for jury duty in Woburn -- where they had moved the Cambridge office to -- and I put it off until the day after commencement. Last jury duty I did was in 2005 in Framingham, and got picked from a pool of about 40 for a counterfeiting trial. Here, there were about 150 jurors just a-hangin' out, a bailiff telling funny stories ("those of you who brought letters from your place of employment testifying to how essential you are to the business, put them away. Bring them back out when you are up for promotion" -- a joke he must tell every day). There were two trials needing jurors, and I had been assigned number 132. Numbers 1-80 got summoned for one jury, and a sigh of relief was breathed by me. Then 81-150, which would include me, got summoned for another one. So while we were asked about various reasons for being excused, a guy with a voice that could melt bricks asked questions, and a judge spoke in a little voice. Then the jurors were summoned sequentially starting with #81, the jury box was filled, summary exclusions were made by lawyers, and little by little the numbers encroached toward mine. The jury was finally seated at number 118, and I felt probably like one of those kids during the Vietnam war that got a high draft number. I was safe, and by 14 slots. So, no duty for me this year, and I got to call Beff from the road and say, HERE I COME! It looked like a pretty dull trial anyway, and would have taken until Friday.

Speaking of which, on that Friday was the BMOP concert, and it was a mixed bag. No names being named here, but there was plenty of music by composers who don't much write for orchestra, some music that Beff described as "Whoosh! Spacy. Whoosh! Spacy" or something of that ilk. One piece used a bouncing basketball in rhythm, which was cool. And Lisa Bielawa's piece was expertly written, as you would expect from a composer in residence with an orchestra -- plus both movements started with the same music. If I were European, I'd stand up and yell "I did it first." Instead, I will say, and for no apparent reason, "MWA ha ha."

And since classes were done, I ran out of excuses not to write music. It was kind of hard to continue to Pierrot Plus movement I'd started during April vacation, and it was fine with me to leave that holding. I had had a long complicated dream involving moving from place to place outdoors through pickup volleyball games, among other things, and for no apparent reason there was a background ostinato in that dream of a pickup eighth to a long note a major second lower, over and over, in a Fender Rhodes sound. Since I always use dream music when I can remember it, I discovered that the notes were F-Eflat, and resolved to write a movement of this piece with the unyielding ostinato. Something I have never done! So to keep the ostinato going and to get as much variety as possible -- well, see the "Ostinato Movement" link over to the left. It repeats almost a hundred times, which is not a record by any means, but it shatters my own standard by about ninety. It also quotes that same Brahms Liebeslieder waltz from the first paragraph of this update. Because I can. When I finished the movement and finished keying it in, I went outside for fresh air, and heard chickadees doing the same interval and same ostinato, except a fourth lower. Turns out chickadees are a dominant species around here.

And finally I ran out of excuses not to continue the first movement. So I have been adding to it, and durned if the actual process of writing doesn't actually give ya ideas about how it should go. So ... I have a concept! Which will eventually be expanded into a process, and finally into an occurrence. Because it is what I do.

And so next thing we knew, it was Memorial Day weekend, which it isn't any more.Corinne was in town and came to visit Saturday evening and stayed overnight, and spent the bulk of Sunday here. We picked her up at the Sout' Acton train station and had dinner at the Cast Iron Kitchen, as is our wont, and it was good. I had the ribs, which made up for in tastinessositudinousness what they lacked in sheer volume. For Sunday, we went out to get stuff for barbecue (shishkebabs, dontcha know), Corinne made beet salad, and all was good. We also took a nice trip to the Delaney Refuge for a walk, and saw plenty of pink lady's slippers (flowers) in the forested part, and went to the Minuteman Airport for pictures, and then to various uglyass McMansions so Corinne could take pictures for a possible pending publication. There was hammock time and gazebo time and cooking time, and finally trip to the airport time, which was cool -- it rained to the east of Route 128, but not here, so it was all splashy on the road and stuff. Solar glare made it impossible to read the Airport Exit signs, so I felt my way out, and luckily traffic was light.

And yesterday, for actual Memorial Day, we did a pub beer and returned to discover a baby robin fallen from a nest aimlessly hopping around, and too big to be carried back up by parental units, who were hovering. It chirps about once every eight seconds, and at one point I saw it had gone into the road, so I tried to scare it back onto the grass, and its first instinct was to open its mouth so I could feed it. Aww. Anyway, we of course didn't let the cats out, and later Beff said the bird was, by now, toast (a strange metaphor, really). This morning, 9:30 am, the bird is still out there in the way-back yard a-chirpin', looking a little stronger and almost flying, but ... time to stop thinking about it.

So on Thursday we up and go to Hayes's and linger until after the concert at Merkin on Saturday night. Gunther Schuller will be there holding forth, and apparently so will I. And directly after, we will drive back home, perhaps landing at 2. And taking a late afternoon flight to France soon thereafter. Oh, the fun we will have! So there we will be, and back we will come. Beff has been practicing her parts, and many of them are what you call "hard".

Today's pictures include the obligatory seasonal dam picture, cooked asparagus from our own yard, Cammy and Sunny in the wild, a closeup of a pickle I sliced, Corinne and Beff in the gazebo, Sunny and Cammy in captivity, and some pink lady's slippers. Bye.

JUNE 11 Breakfast this morning was grapefruit, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was marinated chicken, broccoli/asparagus, and salad. Lunch was Spaghetti-Os. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 38.8 and 81.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the third movement of Stolen Moments. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Full size keyboard with weighted keys, stand, and pedal $650, Avis car rental $279.79, Toyota Corolla $thousands. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: During the leaner years of grad school, I was ecstatic to get asked by Peter Westergaard to drive into New York, pick up some books, and drive them back to Princeton for the then-princely sum of 50 bucks. Alas, while driving down Seventh Ave, I hit the mother of all potholes. But all seemed well. A few weeks later I took the car (which was,by the way, a "Rallye Green" 1975 VW Rabbit) to Princeton Volkswagen for service. When I went to pick it up, it was no charge, with simply the words, in all caps, on the invoice: THIS IS A DANGEROUS CAR. DO NOT DRIVE THIS CAR. Shortly thereafter I dropped it off at Hans Kimm Small Cars on Route 1, signed it over to them, and exited. Lesson learned: don't pick up books in New York. Or perhaps don't accept money from Peter Westergaard. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny has been doing some squeaky meowing since we returned from France. Obviously he never wants to see us leave again. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances, Reviews 4. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: droohey, a fake Irish-sounding word briefly used in Switzerland to denote the act of turning your car off and on again immediately. The word eventually fell into disuse, replaced by "turning your car off and on again immediately." RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 0 (big woo hoo there, pardner). FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I can crack my thumbs pretty much at will. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Leftovers ALWAYS taste better the second time. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,462. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.39 in Maynard and $2.70 on the Merritt Parkway. THINGS THAT YOU DON'T EAT WITH TRUFFLES my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

I sure have been out and about, with a strong emphasis on the "out". Well, "about", too. Just try parsing THAT sentence. So much must be reported that I will leave much of it out. And eventually, dear reader, you will thank me. I'm already thanking me right now, and as we all know, that rhymes with spanking me. Already we have lost the thread, so I will return to the first person singular and start again.

I learned recently that parking can be dangerous, as we shift to third person singular: Beff also learned that parking can be dangerous. So I will back up a little. Soon after the last update, I mowed all the lawns, on Wednesday. As rolling-eye readers will be aware, that's and hour and three quarters of work and more than a tank of gas. But it is what I do. For you see, we were about to be out and about for more than a coupla weeks. And there was a rehearsal of "Stolen Moments" in New York on Thursday afternoon I was going to go to, and that meant embarking in the Corolla early Thursday morning. And on that Wednesday morning, I got a strange frantic e-mail from Jen, the flute player in the group, ending with "Sent from my iPhone" with "we want you to conduct this piece" in the body. I called her while she was still rehearsing and found out that Greg, the director of Merkin Hall, had agreed to step in and conduct the piece (which I had asked him to hire a conductor for, several times. Well, twice). Nonetheless, I produced a big score in case I had to conduct it when I got there.

And by the way, Stolen Moments is the name of the piece I have been calling "responds-to-jazz" for nigh on a year now, for woodwind quintet, string quartet, and piano that I wrote at Civitella and in Vermont last year, and it was a real challenge as well as occasionally fun to write. So there. The players were the Lark Quartet, the Zephyros Winds, and Tony de Mare, and you, dear reader, may hear the performance AND see the score by clicking on the various "SM" links to the left and below. In any case. We were staying with Hayes, so we got there, parked, and I went into the city on the train for my rehearsal. Things sounded good, tempi were slow, players liked the piece, etc. We resolved to meet at Manhattan School the next morning at 9 for the next rehearsal -- then was the show, Saturday night. Meanwhile, Beff went into Chelsea for a gallery hop and I joined her. Then we bar hopped a bit, came back on the train and around 8 passed where we had parked the car and saw an empty spot with some broken plastic, glass, and chrome in its place. Immediately I cellphoned 911, who referred me to the Yonkers police, who referred me to an impound lot, but of course I got its answering service. I called Yonkers police back, who said I was misinformed. I had to go to the police station to get a release form for my car. And why?

Whoa, dear reader. Some dude driving on Palmer Avenue had a seizure and plowed right into my car and the one in front of us (and two others, it turns out). Mine was pushed onto the sidewalk, thus it had to be towed. And thus began a bureaucratic adventure not even of our own making, and it being bureaucratic, was vast beyond reason. And, by the way, we STILL have no info on who hit us, except that an eyewitness said he had been taken to the hospital, and he had the maroon car still parked on the street with NY plate 520524 -- if you are reading this and know who that is, feel free to contact me, etc. So Hayes and Susan graciously drove us to the Yonkers police station, and ... wouldn'tcha know, the cop on duty said that to see our car we had to produce the title and the registration -- given that one was actually IN the car and the other back in Maynard, that would have been pretty hard, and we were kinda pressed for time. So eventually he figured out that Motor Vehicle records told him the names of the car's owners, and it turned out to be us (well I'll be!). So we got the release form to take to the tow truck people. And, of course, still no information on why-on-earth-was-he-still-allowed-to-drive guy.

So ... next morning, instead of going to my rehearsal, I was treated to a trip to Dan-Glo service and towing in Yonkers, where we got driven to see our car in the impound lot -- pic below. With the rear left tire at an angle, it looks like all one could do was drive it in circles, but that's silly. In Yonkers they are called doughnuts. So we retrieved all our STUFF from the car, which made really funny noises when the trunk or doors were opened, and then Hayes graciously drove us to Scarsdale to get an Avis rental car (we got a Camry). And we drove to Bronxville and parked. In a slightly different place, in front of a Cooper Mini. Well, and then there was eating out, and driving on Saturday to the actual gig, where we parked the Camry. And had Japanese, and went to the gig.

All the performers were onstage for the pre-concert spiel, which featured Gunther Schuller holding forth, distinctions between jazz and classical playing, and so on, and then the gig itself. There was just one little train wreck in the first movement, and the tempos were still on the slow side, but it happened. And Gunther liked the piece, and reception was very positive. BUT ...we had to drive RIGHT back to Maynard in order to go to France the next afternoon, so ... we left at about 11 pm and got into Maynard just after 2:30 am. Wow.

And then on Sunday, our Franceward day, we did the usual house-ready stuff, drove to the airport and parked, had beer and burgers in the airport, boarded, and went Franceward. Now me being me, when I booked these flights I went only to the Air France site, thinking that for a backwater like Toulouse -- our destination -- only Air France would have flights there. Silly me. And what Air France offered were flights to DeGaulle Airport with connecting flights at Orly Airport -- about a 40 minute bus ride away. No problem, thought I -- I've done flights where I fly to Reagan and transfer to Dulles, and it was unpainful (a new standard for double negatives!). But of course, the extra work was to go through Douane, get the luggage, carry it on the transfer bus (19 Euros per person, by the way, almost 30 bucks) and check in again. Since Beff had to play two pieces with bass clarinet, that meant a) insuring it and b) bringing it. Which was extra work, etc. But durned if everything didn't go off without a hitch. So we made it to Toulouse on a hot clear day, got picked up by the local VCCA director Lucy Anderton, and got to the VCCA property in Auvillar. By the way, Toulouse, being the fourth largest city in France, isn't a backwater, and lots of airlines fly to it. Crap.

Auvillar is a small village in the Bordeaux region of southwestern France that is on a well-traveled pilgrimaga (pelerinage) route, and the several buildings used and owned by VCCA are right on it -- we saw many walking by with faux ski poles daily -- apparently it's a package deal for pilgrims. Meanwhile, there were five performers playing on this Etchings Festival for which we were contracted, as well as seven composers ranging from very green to retired. The setting was quite rustic -- indeed, we were near a river, yet very close to a nuclear power plant, and it was a short walk up a VERY steep hill into town -- and the table clearing and washing up was handled in part by the performers and participants. Most meals were prepared by Lucy, and they were very, very good, and Rose and Burgundy wines were served with the meals. Plus -- there was lots and lots and lots and lots of cheese. And it was light until a bit after ten o'clock every night.

So on most days there were rehearsals as well as lessons with the resident composers -- John "John" Aylward and James "James" Wizenerowicz representing ECCE, and me. We all met with every participant at least once, and there were master classes where work-sharing was done. So there were two string players from the UK -- Florence and James -- and Maria the bassoonist, MJ the saxophonist, and Beff the clarinetist. And stylistically the composers were pretty wide-ranging, and all of them got superb performances -- including recordings of a dress rehearsal and TWO concert recordings, as every concert was repeated. There were three concerts, two of them in town at the "mayor's house" and one at the VCCA property -- first and last being completely full, and the second less so because it came after a big rainstorm.

In free time we tended to walk into town or have a meal out, and did I mention we had a lot of cheese? Indeed, there were receptions at a local bar after the first two concerts in which we paid for a cheese smorgasbord and wine. And they were good, but think of the cholesterol. Meanwhile, there was also a yearly festival going on in the town of Auvillar while we were there, so obviously there were no concerts those days -- the Festival of St. Noe, tied to a lunar cycle of some sort, celebrating the day that the wine grapes stop being "cultivated" and let to grow as they will. That was a two-day affair, for which on the first night we were given a meal stipend and let loose in this little town. So Beff and I got skewered stuff, and some chicken, and some fries, and of course, plenty of Burgundy. As did all the other participants, who mostly returned to the home front in the afternoon the next day instead of the morning. And of course, there was progressively more rambunctious celebrating happening in the streets. For you see, there was this festival ...

One interesting feature of the landscape was a big air cannon in the distance pointed straight up. During sprinkles, or larger bits of rain, we would hear it go off sporadically, apparently with the hope of dispersing the rain clouds. It was explained to us that it was there to "stress" the grapes and make their wine taste better by depriving them of too much nourishing rain. Talk about getting it down to a science. Do composers, similarly, become better composers by having bad performances?

So after the festival was over, the global VCCA director Suny Monk, who was there for four days of this festival, drove us to the Toulouse Airport -- at 4 in the morning, since one of the Fellows had a 6 am flight, and ours, at 8:15, was next in line, and this was done in the name of efficiency. Suny drove us in a rented van, and it was dark. Eventlessly, though tiredly, we made it back to Paris, onto the bus, and back to Boston, with everything intact, or so far as we could tell -- the only hitch being that Beff ALMOST forgot her clarinets on the transfer bus. Amazingly, no screwups by Air France! Though apparently Janine, who took care of the cats a few of the days we were gone, was worried we might have been on that Air France flight that exploded near Brazil. And of course I had to drive the Subaru (no more Corolla, see above) through the very beginnings of Boston rush hour, but we made it back in time to get our held mail from the Post Office, and the first thing I ate was -- a dill pouch pickle. We stayed up as late as we could stand, and by the next morning there wasn't much sign of jet lag.

And that was yesterday, whose main event was ... buying a new car, of course. While we were in France, we got updates from our insurance company over the process on our claim. Where I was informed by e-mail that the assessor declared the car a total loss and we would be hearing from the total loss department. And we got a settlement offer, the amount of which we were able to use as a down payment on a new car. Beff had researched cars on line, and we narrowed it to Hondas and Toyotas, so we used the internets to find the closest Honda dealer, found its webpage, and took note if its location via the Map Quest attached to its home page. It was a bit of a distance and a rather complicated drive, and I was already thinking of what it would be like just to go in and make that drive for routine service, and ... we got to the point that Map Quest had pointed as its location, where we found ... NOTHING. We looked in every direction and drove quite some way on Route 9, and still found no Honda ... though Acura was strangely well represented. So, screw these Honda people who can't even give you a decent map, we drove to Acton Toyota, a MUCH easier slog from Maynard, test-drove a Scion XD and a Corolla, and settled on the Corolla. We made the down payment, sat through the obligatory sales pitch for sexy-extras-nobody-really-needs, and we will pick up the car today at three. Big woo hoo there, pardner. I own another blue Corolla. But a lighter shade of blue.

Meanwhile. I mentioned last time that getting to work intensely on a piece made it easier for me to conceive how to continue with it. Alas, with all the interruptions, I haven't thought about my microconcerto for two weeks, and I don't think I remember the brilliant solutions that were parked in my brain a mere two weeks ago. So, slogging again will I.

So Beff goes to Maine tomorrow for Chair stuff and returns Tuesday. Wednesday we go to Vermont for two weeks, and to that end, we bit the bullet and got a full-size keyboard to bring with us to use for composing on. Whether we leave it there for the winters or take it back and forth has yet to be determined. Yesterday, BEFORE breakfast, I assembled the keyboard stand, which was marked "quick and easy to assemble" and was neither -- though "short end goes on the outside" was interesting text on the one diagram. Too bad it was the only text. And to think I scored so high on spacial conception....

After which is July, and then August. Wow. With so much still to write this summer, I'm stoked. Or something like that.

Incidentally, Saturday is my birthday. It will be the first time in many years that my age is evenly divisible by seventeen. And there's a YEHUDI birthday concert at Brandeis that night. Holy usurpation, Batman!

Today's pictures begin with a cell phone shot of the rear of my former car; next, the Auvillar nuclear power plant nearby; the VCCA property viewed from the back and front; the center of Auvillar with the old grain market building; a church in town; John Aylward leading a rehearsal at the VCCA rehearsal space; the Etchings group at the wine festival; dwunken wevelwy by the locals during the festival; and sunset our last night there. Bye.

JULY 1 Breakfast this morning was rice sausages with cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was a Theo's Chicken Skewer from whole foods. Lunch was nothing. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 45.7 and 83.8. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the first movement of Stolen Moments. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Whole Foods, $156; PickleLicious, $132; Finale 2010 upgrade $129.90, first car payment on new Corolla, $414. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: We had occasional spelling bees in our eighth grade English class, and I almost always won them -- like Linus in Peanuts, I could have grown up to get a job spelling. There was one spelling bee that essentially nobody won because no one could correctly spell "rhythm" My shot, R-H-Y-T-H-U-M, eliminated me, but the other four left standing also were eliminated, substituting the other available vowels where I had said "U". I remember also choking in another spelling bee on "labyrinth" (gee, that's kinda an advanced word for eighth grade) because the teacher running the spelling bee said it with two syllables. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: When in Vermont, the cats sometimes look wistfully (or listlessly, or wistwesswy) out the front door at a chipmunk that they will never catch because we dont' let them out. And sometimes their positions on the furniture is cute -- see Cammy the Whale below. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions, Reviews 4. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: saronnosaric, a Medieval remedy for gas and bloating. It didn't actually work, but it knocked you out long enough to recover, anyway. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 1. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I always have about 7 or 8 different kinds of pickles at the ready. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: As many tickets are issued for driving really slow as for driving really fast. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,585. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.69 in Vermont and $2.59 in Maynard. THE LIST YOU MADE BUT FORGOT WHY my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

The palindromes they gave me started to make sense, in that Liliputian way, until I had some tomato sauce on my car for lunch. Could it be that the head of the pin was where they were putting all of our leftover gerunds? I'm not sure they'd fit if we included the cheese as well, but someone in Accounts Invective told me that pine trees rule. To that I say "garoosophone". Slabs of honey found their way into the chocolate sidewalk, and that's where we made the scissors really count.

Dear reader, this is a longer-than-usual time since the last update because I've been out of town, and thankfully, also getting plenty of work done -- even, dare I say, good work. I also went to the bathroom as many times as I wanted, and so did both cats.

There was an update right here a coupla days after the last posting showing a picture of the new blue Corolla "S" in our driveway, and a different one is posted below for this update. We drove in the correct direction to get us to Acton Toyota, got all the paperwork in order, and drove home. We celebrated by having dinner at the accustomed time, and this time I believe it was chicken. The next day, Friday, Beff had to drive to Maine for some sort of Open House thing that she only has to do because she is Chair, so I was grateful to have a car of my own. Now of course a lot of people reading this know that it's been miserably cloudy, foggy, and damp in this part of the country pretty regularly since the first week of June (it is to clear up this Friday in time for the holiday, but what do they know?). So in the misty foggy poopyness (or is it "poopiness"?) in the Friday morning, I up and drove to Brandeis via the far-less-scenic route, involving driving to near BJ's to get on the Mass Pike eastbound. And why? Well, I'm glad I asked me that. I rescued my Fast Lane (like E-Z Pass except it's Massachusetts) from the totalled Corolla's window but had no way to affix it to the new car's window. And there's a Fast Lane service center at the rest area between Framingham and the Brandeis/Waltham exit -- where I also gave them the new car info, and got two cute little "sticky feet" to use to mount my transponder. And mount it I did.

Then at Brandeis I up and got me a new parking sticker. There they asked me what color I had had before, and I could have said anything -- ooh, if I'd said GOLD, I could park anywhere on campus without penalty. But really, Gold parking stickers are only given for 25 years of service, and I don't teach that fast. So I got me a red one, which was correct. Numbered 1008, for those playing along at home. I then drove home and tried to figure out what to do next in my so-called microconcerto thing. Not much, as it turned out, though I did decide to follow through on my quasi-recap, which has an ironic twist: it's a half-step higher than before, and eventually through the magic of Davyness(tm), a whole-step higher than before. And then the ending has a bunch of tremolos, because it is what I decided to do. PLUS, there's a dissolution that slows the notes down and introduces the ostinato that is going to dominant the movement to follow. I rule. Ruling is done by me. Ruler, c'est moi.

The next thing of dire importance was Yehudi's usurpative birthday concert on Saturday night, which was on my birthday. I had gotten several birthday greetings from people who look at that section of newmusicbox, and His Rossness sent me a nice Pat Metheny Trio CD which I like. But I spent the evening portion of being newly evenly divisible by 17 hearing some Yehudi pieces I knew and some I didn't. In particular, the violin and piano duo that is reputed to have made his first big splash was done by Danst Epner and Yehudi, and it was a real gas -- not sounding at all like something from the mid '50s. A.Y., I spent the rest of my birthday at home.

Beff got back Monday, and we spent time packing for Vermont, where we were to spend two weeks or perhaps more. Preparing the new 88-key keyboard for transport along with the keyboard stand was among the stuff, plus going through lists of stuff mentally that we wanted to make sure not to forget. Then on Wednesday the 17th (I believe that may be Dennis Slavin's birthday) in the morning, we packed up the kitties, the keyboard, and our stuff, and off we went. It was a fairly eventless drive except for the many, many one-lane diversions made possible by the federal stimulus, and I made it in 3 hours 20 minutes. We had to uncover stuff and I had to find the old cat litter box and leave some food out, and Beff did the majority of the setting up when she got in. She had the keyboard, of course, since she's got a hatchback, and since I had the cats. And we stayed in Vermont until June 29, since Beff's sister requested some time this week, plus we both finished big projects on Monday. More on that later.

Of course we had to do a big shop, and Hannaford's is a mere four minute drive, so we got ourselves situated to be self-sufficient. It was still kind of cool and misty and pooplike, and since the place faces the lake, it is often considerably colder than even a hundred feet further from the lake. So hunker down we did, and setup was achieved, and we relaxed.

On our first full day we did our official celebration of my birthday. In olden times (when I had hair), we made a point of going to the Ground Round and getting Buffalo wings. This time we drove into downtown Burlington, went to the Burlington Brew Pub, got some of their internal specialties (Irish red, bitter, IPA, etc.) and I got their wings. The wings themselves are not great, but I love the sauce, and I even dipped the lettuce from my salad in it. Because it is what I do. Then we tooled around downtown a little, even getting some grapefruit-eating paraphernalia at a store called Kiss The Cook, and noticed that the recession shonuff hasn't hit Burlington very hard. It was jam-packed, and all the restaurants had lines waiting to be seated. Wow.

With the coolish and dreary weather keeping us in, mostly, we had plenty of time to work -- though we took bike rides whenever the weather allowed, which I think was 7 out of 11 days there. I finished my microconcerto first movement, and then followed through on Beff's comment when I first mentioned that I was making it a chamber concerto for not only the likes of Geoffy, but for Geoffy himself, his bad self! And that comment was, "ooh, and you can write a funk movement." Given that I'd also decided to make Geoffy AND Bob (ze percussionist guy) play melodicas -- Bob's melodica made a cameo appearance in the first movement -- another dimension (if you want to call it that) to the movement would be a dueling melodicas passage. So I wrote an opening passage for piano alone that's reminiscent of Absofunkinlutely, with the instruments sneaking in eventually, and it's fun. I followed that with music that uses the same licks but sounds suspiciously like cafe music, for all but the piano, got to a place where the clarinet played a big scale lick, and brought Geoffy in on the melodica near the top of the instrument -- and for several bars before that, Bob's been playing the same licks over and over.

And I sent the score up to that point to Geoffy and told him I'd do whatever he suggested I do next. And I did! Rich harmonies between the two melodicas, then a badass lick for Geoffy, and ... well, you can see for yourself. I finished the piece on Monday and was already to call it "Microconcerto", but during a restaurant lunch with Beff (where we'd gone so I could do more wings), she reached all the way back to ARMY OF DARKNESS and pulled out the title Micronomicon. And since it's to be pronounced Mick-ronomicon rather than Mike-ronomicon, I used a K, in deference (?) to Bartok. And then I saw the evil version of the main character declaring, "You'll NEVER get the Mikronomicon!" followed by a different reference: Good, bad. I'm the one with the gun.

So dear reader, you may view a complete score at the blue link to the left, as well as MIDI of the outer movements in the yellow numeric links. For you see, it is what I did.

In the midst of all that working -- Beff was writing songs plus doing a big academic promotion document, and watching the three color movies Red, White, and Blue at night -- we had a nice visit from my colleague Yu-Hui and her husband Bill, her daughter Emmaline, and her future offspring trapped inside. We did a nice time at the beach on Saturday afternoon, we did a grilled salmon and corn and vegetables and salad dinner, saw the Burlington waterfront on Sunday morning, and off they went back to Boston. They had visited Taiwan just previously, so there were pictures to share there. And we shared our France pictures.

And there was one night that the usual party by a local family was given, at which I remember having baked beans, and the stereo playing the same six Beach Boys tunes over and over (California Girls, Surfin' USA, you know the drill). We decided to have an ironclad excuse to be out of town, and it was the night that a concentrated bunch of strong thunderstorms was passing through. In any case, Beff had been reading the local artsy rag, where she found an ad for a high class (or so it implied) in my own hometown of St. Albans -- Chow Bella. She made a reservation online, and we drove there, encountering a downpour only in the last few minutes of the drive -- a severe thunderstorm watch for St. A was to expire just before we got there. This restaurant is an interesting oasis in a sea of dullness (the town itself -- remember, I grew up there, so I'm entitled), and is in the place where Doolin's was when I was growing up (they sold chick stuff). It had the exposed brick thing, and an expensive menu, and even a cocktail pianist, and we got pork medallions and stuff. After we ordered our drinks (local beer on tap), I noticed that the pianist was my high school music teacher, Verne Colburn -- also the father of the Marine Band director, Michael. So we talked, caught up, and left a nice tip. We knew all the tunes he played except one, and he actually used the canned groove tracks on his keyboard. Which was always a trip when he finished a tune and was going through the Fake Book for the next one, since you'd hear just the groove and maybe a bass line doing 1-5-1-5 ... and then we drove back to find that there had been a lot of wind and rain while we were gone, and some of our stuff was wet. The water that blew in came periously close to the surge protector into which our keyboard was plugged, and my computer bag was moist, and so was my suitcase -- but I guess you gotta get used to this in rural living. We celebrated by doing what the locals call "drying off" our stuff.

And so yesterday morning we collected the kitties and most of our stuff, except for the keyboard stand, and at 7:15 am I set off, with Beff about an hour behind. The kitties were very glad to be back home, especially the part about getting to go outside. And as usual, they spent much of their time sitting in windows. Of course, since there was little of value to eat in the fridge, we shopped -- and did so separately. Beff did staples at Shaw's Market nearby and I went to Whole Foods for more exotic stuff. To wit -- they're usually out of the Manga Acai white tea half-gallons, and since they had it, I got six of them. And since they are usually out of the masaman curry soup -- I bought them out. Plus, it's skewer season at Whole Foods, so I got chicken of various stripes, etc., plus some -- you guessed it -- gourmet pickles. This morning, since we are nearly out of coffee beans I also made a run to Trader Joes, got stuff at Staples with a rewards coupon, and got cat treats at K-Mart.

And I hardly mentioned that I had to mow lawns. The grass was long and wet, so it was a bit more labor intensive than usual, and I still have to do the front and west side. But it looks nice in the back, and the newly sculpted area where the ice storm hit looks good. Indeed, that grass was very long, and very thick. And the mint and catnip we planted are doing very well, thank you.

So now with Mikronomicon in the "I exist" pile, next up is piano four hands for students -- the one that comes with a trip to LA next July and a guaranteed number of copies purchased from Peters. There's also the trip to Utah next month, and an appearance at Tanglewood to meet a (hopefully not scared doodyless) etude-playing pianist. Meanwhile, Vermont was great and I got good work done. But here I've got spicy pickles from PickleLicious. And you, dear reader, probably don't.

Today's pictures include the new Corolla, three kitty pix from Vermont, the Bill and Yu-Hui experience (big log version), two shots of my working area, and three sunset-related shots. Bye.

JULY 14 Breakfast this morning was freezer waffles, orange juice,and coffee. Dinner last night was salmon teriyaki, broccoli/asparagus, and salad. Lunch yesterday seemed to be be not much more than spicy pickles. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 49.5 and 82.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the tune from a Road Runner cartoon where Wile E. Coyote set up a "Learn the Play the Piano" thing in the road that the road runner picked at with its beak. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Whole Foods, $188; Trader Joe's $72, Finale upgrade $129.90. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: There was a massive change of educational venue in St. Albans in my sixth and seventh grade years. There had been 3 regional grades 1-4 schoolhouses, a grades 5-6 building, and a junior high. Apparently the new grade 1-8 school was finished late, since in grade 6 the former Catholic high school in town was rented for grades 5-8. And in grade 7, the new elementary school was ready, and it came with a new principal. Who was Mr. Walsh. He was a butch haircut-roam the halls and yell at slackers kind of principal, and we didn't know he was the brother of a very busy character actor on TV, Emmett Walsh. One evening after school it was announced on the school PA, in his voice, "Mr. Walsh's brother is going to be on Julia tonight." Being that we were seventh graders at the time, we did our best Beavis and Butthead (way before our time, dontcha know), the thing where the newly hormoned try to sexualize everything. "Huuh huuh, he said ON JULIA huuh huuh." NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy naps under the grill, and Sunny naps under the Adirondack chairs. Not that there's anything wrong with that. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: inorectic, a condition wherein you can't stop eating bugs. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 2. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I own one pair of red socks. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: People see me and weep spontaneously. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,638. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.59 in Maynard. NOT JUST FOR BREAKFAST ANY MORE my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

Today I shall avail myself of round sugary candies. For you see, it is Pastille Day. Though when they talked about storming the Pastille in history class in junior high, I didn't really get it. The reception food was great, though.

I am scrupulously back to my Tuesday update schedule, even though it's a bit less than two weeks since the last update, and there's really not much to cover this time. Unless you like having your life full of needless detail. You do? Oh yeah, that's why you're still reading.

So after "Mikronomicon" was finished, there was the business of extracting and producing the parts, and sending them to the Musica Viva office. This being summer and all, of course, no acknowledgement yet -- probably because it's obviously a piece where you have to put on your thinking cap. Of course, it being a microconcerto and all, Geoffy had to get his part separately, and for that I got to bring out all the massive stuff -- I printed it onto 11x17 paper, trimmed it down to 11x14, and had to run it through the binding machine twice -- since the only available bindings are 8.5 inches long. Which made the other, normally sized, parts a piece of cake (that's an expression we use over here).

And when that was all done, there was a day of relax. Which was fine, since Beff had to go Mainewards to do official chair-type stuff. Including going to a hastily called meeting whose point escapes me no matter how many times Beff describes it. Of course, that gave me kitty duty doody, which is way more fun to say than it is to do. Plus, those two professional letters listed above were far more substantial than mere recommendation letters, and the two of them took up a whole day. Why? Confidential. So there. I made up for it by getting zero haircuts.

Meanwhile, given that the Musica Viva piece was in the can, it was time to move on to the next gig -- piano four hands pieces commissioned by the MTAC -- Music Teachers' Association of California -- for a target demographic of piano students aged 11-13. Obviously I had some restrictions there, and Catherine O'Connor of the MTAC, with whom I'd corresponded, tried to help me pinpoint the expected level of difficulty. Those pieces I wrote for Jim Goldsworthy's students in 2004 -- harder than that. What Bolcom and Hartke and Chihara wrote for them -- easier than that. Help! So onward I went, quite a bit more methodically than usual (whatever that means), and by yesterday had finished a set of "Etude-Fantasies", seven of them, which turned out to have hit the center of the demographic.

And engraving (entering? copying? what verb do we use when we use Finale, or Sibelius, anyway?) this piece presented a few challenges. First, I had just installed Finale 2010 on both my desktop and my laptop (first time my Finale's have been in sync since 2005), oohed and aahed at some of the newer features (page view is also a left-to-right scroll view now, very Sibeliusesque, and there is auto rehearsal letters, which on first effort appeared to be a dud in this incarnation), tried to transfer my very fussy tie settings, and then there was the format of piano four hands music itself. Left hand pages are the SECONDO part and right hand pages the PRIMO part, which is sort of opposite in order to how the music is conceived (presuming the top down approach, duh), and then there is the issue of making sure the primo and secondo are exactly parallel (so entry points are easy to find when rehearsing) -- plus the auto rehearsal letters don't work, since the parallel portions where such a thing would go on the primo part would be, technically, later than on the secondo part, etc. This is why the sideways scroll in Finale 2010 was nice -- I could see the facing pages, make sure the lines were parallel, and even visually so. Cool. Of course, no midi playback, but that wasn't an issue here.

After the seven etude-fantasies were done, I had to decide whether to number them or name them -- I chose names. Snakes, Hammers, Invention, Forgotten Song, whatever. Yesterday all the effected parties -- CF Peters and Catherine -- got their copies, and it's time to go to the next project. Which I hope to postpone as long as possible. So, etude 91 -- not yet written. Any etude ideas out there? (by the time you read this, that question may be moot) After going to the post office to mail the masters to Peters, Beff and I went to Dunn Oil to prepay for a third of our winter oil (in July!), and try out the Buffalo wings at a restaurant called 51 Main Street in Maynard. It wasn't hard to remember the address. The wings were good, but there weren't a lot of them.

MUCH earlier -- soon after we returned from Vermont -- I had an eye exam and contact lens fitting at Look Optical. It turned out D'Ambrosio, near Stop and Shop, where I'd been doing my eye and lens things, doesn't take the new eye insurance attached to my Tufts Medical health plan (it's called EyeMed, and if you can see well enough to realize a space is missing in the name, do you need it?). So I was directed, on my health card, to a website where I could find local providers that accepted it. And up came the name of a place right in downtown Maynard I had never noticed in my nine years here. Probably because it has only existed since last October. SO -- I got pictures taken of my eyes, an optometrist did the usual "This ... or this? ..." thing that is so familiar. Said my eyes are bad, but can be corrected to 20/15, so that's good. And I will be test-driving a bunch of ... what did he call it ... amazingly oxygen permeable lenses. The optometrist hinted that the new prescription may actually be less strong than the old one. Oh yeah -- and Beff, who has been paying full price for her eye stuff, has Cigna eye plan, which Look Optical also takes. So there. And SHE has an eye exam there this afternoon.

Our weekly Friday lunch at the Cast Iron Kitchen was shared last week with Seunghee, who came to see the cats and ask for various kinds of advice. I got the sliders, Beff got soup, and Seunghee got the chicken panini. And our THURSDAY lunch was take out panini from Roasted Peppers on Main Street downtown. Again, it's been there a while and was recommended to us, so I got a chicken one for Beff and the Cajun one for me, and they were both smantabustic.

This is the somewhat-rare occasion that I do NOT make the score of my recently completed piece available to the left for free download, since it's already contracted to CF Peters, i.e., is not unpublished (a double negative!). You can buy your copy outright, but not until next July. Which, by the way, is when the etude-fantasies get their official premiere(s). In Los Angeles, at their convention July 2-6. Which is where I will be, and when.

Meanwhile, summer officially got here -- well, summer weather, that is. Even though temps are running about 5 degrees below seasonal averages, that's in contrast to a long span where temps were 15-20 degrees below seasonal averages. The NECN weather nerd had said that a convergence of five things -- including a Greenland block, or Greenland block party, whatever -- that happened once every 25-50 years was responsible for the cold and rainy June. Either that, or ... uh, global warming?

Going out of time sequence again -- when Beff got back from Maine, we did a joint shop at the Sudbury Whole Foods, including some experimental ice tea (we like it, will get more), and plenty of dinner items from the deli counter (chicken skewers tonight, peoples), and discovered that they are no longer going to sell beer and wine. In Massachusetts, chains can only sell alcoholic stuff in three of their statewie branches, and I guess some urban Whole Foods is going to take that over -- but given that at Whole Foods the "I'm in charge of buying the beer" guy and the "I'm in charge of buying the wine" guy have both introduced themselves to me, it seems a little odd. So we got some exotic stuff at steep discounts, thus inflating the final tab. And of course the main purpose of the trip was restocking the edamame. Here's another palindrome that never caught on: Edamame Ema made.

Beff also brought with her a disc of photos from the U Maine band at Symphony Hall event from last April, with the directive to do full color and full page inkjet prints of all of them, including two of some -- thirty some prints in all. Something like that not only takes the major portion of the day, but it lets you run out of ink -- twice in the yellow cartridge and once in the light magenta cartridge. For the record, a full set of the 5 color cartridges is 50 bucks, and a single cartridge, available at K-Mart is 12 bucks. Luckily, we are being reimbursed for materials. And of course all those pix are in my iPhoto library now, thus inflating the number given above.

Other things include a very-slow-to-unfold refinance which has been going on since April. Our guy only does refi's with no cost to the refinancers, but there's been various dribbles of paperwork and nosy questions to deal with, and we had to resubmit recent paystubs, etc., but we're told all is set and an interest rate is waiting to be locked in. Gross. Then, there will be a closing. And of course, we are paying insurance premiums on the new Toyota, while the old one is still listed, until the Dan-Glo towing guys get the plates on the totalled Toyota (say that five times fast) to the insurance company. And geez Louise, the police report from Yonkers is takin' forfreakinever -- we don't get our settlement until that report gets to the insurance company. And then we will have steak.

Not much of substance coming up in the immediate horizon. Next Wednesday, I drive to Vermont and back for the yearly beer basch(tm) with Colonel Mike. Beff goes to Maine, again, Thursday, for an amount of time to be determined. And Korean traditional instrument -- boning up time.

There are so few new pictures that one actually comes from the Vermont sojourn. So -- only four. Another Vermont sunset pic, a leaf on the front porch, Sunny in the new grass area, and the cats on the porch. Bye.

JULY 28 Breakfast this morning was light sausages, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was leftover garlic mash and pickles. Lunch was fruit. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 54.3 and 87.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Wouldn't It Be Nice by the Beach Boys. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Re-fi $0, Web Easy Pro $60, TransType Pro $179, Beff's new glasses $295, my contact lens fitting, $150. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Well, I guess 51 Main restaurant (guess at which address?), since I returned, unbidden, for their Buffalo wings a second time; and Trader Joes, for the lime ice floes. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Whole Foods -- the gooseberries I got there were overripe. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: After my first year at Columbia, Beff got a one-year full-time gig at Holy Cross College in Worcester, and I had a year leave. So we looked at rental houses in the area -- including one that obviously the agent couldn't unload, a 6-bedroom Victorian with silver door handles and a kitchen the size of the grand canyon -- it had once been a restaurant, evidently. We settled on a 3-bedroom in Spencer, on a lake. After it was clear we'd stay there a while, we went to THE FAIR -- back when it was possible for local companies that could be K-Mart ripoffs -- and got a red Coleman RAM-X15 canoe for $350, $100 off. On Easter Sunday, we took it out for its first spin from the communal dock. We knew nothing of getting into, balancing, and starting a canoe (though after many months of using a blow-up raf and plastic oars, it seemed pretty deluxe), so naturally we fell out, in waist-deep water. The next day, we tried again, and were far more careful, and eventually we became experts, doing as many as three canoe rides a day. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny ensconced himself under the cedars in the way back and bolted out as I was photographing him. See below. Plus both cats are very needy in the mornings. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions, Recordings, Home, Reviews 4. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: torquemeedle, the first bun you put on the grill but don't use because it gets too burnt. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 0 (woo hoo!). FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I use "boat shoes" for mowing the lawn and bicycling. Not when we use the canoe, because we don't. And I have four pairs of them. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Police, particularly in Cambridge, remember that yelling isn't a crime. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,681. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.54 in Maynard, $2.59 in Sheldon, Vermont, $2.49 in Maynard. WOULDN'T IT BE NICE my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

"Trickle, trickle, trickle." Thus spake the spoon, once it was given its own mouse. The tenth time the clock tolled (all told), it was decided that the tree would make its own pasta, so we gave the eggs to the peasants, who promptly turned into starch. When we got the camera back, my head made a little clicking noise, but that didn't mean we would have to eat Post-Its. On the contrary, we counted to seven and barked.

Finally the summer has arrived with a vengeance. First time the air conditioners were turned on: April 29. Second time the air conditioners were turned on: this most recent Saturday. And they've been going fairly constantly since. As they say, but in the wrong order, it's the humidity, not the heat. It's wilty outside, but scrumptious inside in the computer room and master bedroom, thanks to that which will be costing us in electricity. The dining room-cum-composing room is usually fine, since it doesn't get sunned on, so I have been writing up a storm.

Structurally, there is a sound A-B-A form in this update, since Beff was in Maine last we heard, she returned, and now is back there again. She returns tomorrow night, and then things shift. Indeed. So what's been up? There have been the Friday lunches at the Cast Iron Kitchen. There have been bike rides, and mine have gotten progressively longer -- until the humidity kicked in, that is. I made it up to the third most difficult of the rides (nature viewing area, two strenuous hills) before several days of pooful rain got me off schedule. Then heat and humidity arrived, which I like, and a new ride opened up -- the former Army Reserve area in Stow/Maynard/Sudbury that was decommissioned and turned into a nature reserve has very recently been opened up -- except for the Air Force weather station -- to bicycle riding, and yesterday I did my first ride through the reserve. It's lovely, steamy, has a frog pond with those rubber-band froggies. And since my rides have been at around 6:30 in the morning, I've had to bring the face net to keep the bugs away -- and even at that, the bigass flies don't mind landing on my t-shirt and biting right through it (Jumanja, anyone?). But it's a lovely way to spend the very first part of the morning, when the air temperature is almost exactly the dew point (speaking of which -- lately the dew point has been between 68 and 72, so there. That's "oppressive").

The most semi-poopified event of this period -- not because it's literally poopified, or because it's made of semi-poop, but it does knock out a large portion of the day -- was my yearly physical, which was fine. Even with the prostate exam, which males reading this will know about -- it's kind of a reach. I was one pound lighter than my last physical. And blood tests were normal. My celebratory gesture for having had to fast before the blood work was to ride, in the driving rain (almost ironically), for those Buffalo wings at 51 Main. I was worth it. They were worth it.

And the day following the exam, as if I got to exhale after sucking in my gut for a while, was my yearly beer morning with Colonel (formerly Major, formerly Captain, formerly Lieutenant, formerly Sergeant) Colburn in far northern Vermont. How far north in Vermont? Cell phone calls either happen such that you hear them and they don't hear you, OR are interrupted by a voice in French saying you don't have the right service, please go away. So around 6ish, I set off in Mr. Blue (a name for my new car that I hope doesn't stick), encountering several bits of rain ranging from pissy to delugy, and didn't have to distract myself with the stunning views that weren't there. My arrival was around 10:30 after I filled up at a service station in Sheldon whose restroom had a sink but no running water. I brought sour candy (CryBaby Tears and Toxic Waste) plus nine bags of super hot Utz chips, and was rewarded with a nice lunch and some home brew. It was family reunion week for the Colburn clan, of which there are many, and Colonel Mikey's nephew was there with a large collection of home brews -- 6 or 7 varieties, if I recall right -- and so we had the customary beer plus lunch until 1, the usual conversation about composers the Marine Band should be aware of, and then the sitting and looking at the lake part. When I set off, I went directly to Warner's Snack bar for some of their lovely burgers, and made it home in (not literally) no time. On the way back, there was no rain, and a bit of sun. So there.

Meanwhile, Beff got back, and went back. To Maine, that is. She put finishing touches on her bass clarinet and video piece ("Stand Facing the Stove"), which has cameos in it by Susan Orzel (stirring gravy) and me (making pasta, making chicken). Just as it was finished, she decided she needed a different ending gesture, and that I would make another cameo -- taking silverware out of the silverware drawer and placing it on the counter. Out came the Flip Video, and believe it or don't, we rehearsed that take. Then we did it in one, and the piece was finished. Massive production ensued -- some of it possibly related to the never-ending collection of documentation related to her promotion to full professor, currently in progress.

Beff had also gotten some Flash/HTML code from Albany Records. Which may be the first time in the history of the English language that that sentence was uttered, or typed. It's something to put some e-commerce on your website that would link to Albany to buy your stuff. It seemed sexy enough for Beff's website (I also have an Albany CD and didn't get this e-mail, which makes me go "Blorf"), but we weren't sure that with the vintage 2002 program we use for our websites that we knew how to embed it. I knew there was a "pro" version of Web Easy (said program) and that V-Com had been bought by somebody, so we up and looked for it online, found it at Avanquest on special for 50 bucks (no upgrade path from the cheap-o version, alas), and downloaded and installed it. The interface isn't much different, and the data file format is the same, but it does have some nice extra bells and whistles -- including the ability to embed YouTube videos (SPECIFICALLY YouTube videos, nobody else's). So once I figured that out, I embedded one on the HOME page of my own website because I could, and we made vague plans for Beff to establish a YouTube account, upload some of her videos, and embed them in HER home page. Alas, the HTML files that Web Easy Pro generates have a different filename protocol (I've never used the phrase "filename protocol" before -- hee hee), so it's a bit of work generating them and then renaming them in order to FTP them -- oh, this is getting boring. We can do sexy stuff with a little extra work. So there. Plus, and reassuringly, it bombs just as frequently as Web Easy non-pro. And of course I couldn't figure out how/where to embed the sexy Flash/Java html.

And I've been using my days to write -- except for Vermont beer and yearly checkup days, that is. Two new piano etudes have joined the collection, leaving only eight left to write all time. Alexa Glane piped in with etude ideas, which I have filed, and one of which I was going to do anyway, and ... DID. I finally overcame my tremolophobia and did the tremolo etude -- see Whole Lotta Shakin' link to the left -- and continued my piano-with-other-keyboard series with a melodica. Indeed, I have a picture below of my setup for writing that piece. See "You Blew It" links to the left. There is NO MIDI for the tremolotood, not because I wouldn't release it, but because Finale 2010 bombs when trying to do "Human Playback" on that file, thus it also bombs when generating a MIDI file. Finalemusic is aware of the problem and may or may not fix it (I bet the latter). But obviously those pieces existed to put off the inevitable writing for string trio and a Korean instrument -- in my case, the haegeum, a 2-string bowed fiddle type thing. With Beff safely back in Maine, I was able to go through the materials I'd been sent -- the vast majority of it with text in Korean, thank you very much -- to figure out how to write for it. Yesterday, I started the piece. So far, I'd say this about it -- the haegeum does pentatonic collections against a chromatic accompaniment, and the intrepid composer tries to notate it in a way that forms a middle ground between Eastern and Western inflections. Davy put himself into third person there, and, here.

And of course there is more work to be done on that piece. I won't stop writing it until it's finished. Then there might be a bit of cardinality left over for everyone else to share.

Hayes finished the Etudes Vol. 3 notes, which I forwarded to Bridge Records, who got on the case in record time. Becky at Bridge wrote to ask for some "highly personal" images for the CD cover, and I sent a bunch of closeup pictures of the etudes -- both the prism shots of the toods on this volume from "Prismetudes" and some extreme closeups of the sketches for Stutter Stab -- plus my multi-keyboard picture from the BMOP CD, and a newly composed shot of my writing area as I was doing the with-melodica piece. The melodica shot made it to the cover and the sketch closeups to the back cover of the booklet. Doug, the graphics guy, even moved the piano bench off to the side for the cover, thus meaning a bit of work filling in the part of the piano covered by the bench in the original shot. So you can see my original shot below, and the cover when it comes out. Things happen.

Oh yeah. And last Saturday we had the opportunity to meet up with Soooozie Narucki and David Rutherford, the husband of her, and we chose the Northampton Brewery -- unsurprisingly located in Northampton. It was old home week, since David had been a Rome Prize fellow same time as I (guess how Soozie met him). We talked about music and drywall -- don't everybody? And had sandwiches and shared wings. Then we came home.

Last time I made mention of a re-fi that was going on forever. How forever? Our guy finally found a rate he liked, and we will be three-quarters of a point lower while also paying zero for closing costs. We said the only possible closing date was this Thursday, which he said was fine. But apparently this thing has dragged on for so long that the appraisal expires on Thursday. So we moved the closing to Wednesday EVENING -- since Beff can't get back from Maine until about 8, that's when the closing will be. Think of Beff here -- four hours of driving, possibly through a thunderstorm, and IMMEDIATELY she has to sit down and sign thirty documents only cursorily explained by people trained to make cursory explanations of complicated stuff. Our reward: about $400 less a month in mortgage payments.

And then on Friday we go to Vermont for our August sojourn, staying till about the 23rd. Within that sojourn is plenty else, including Beff's week at Vermont Youth Orchestra camp -- the first Troyless (insert Crisseda joke here) one. Almost immediately I return to Maynard, to fly to Utah for Barlow stuff, and immediately upon return I do an eye doctor thing to make sure the incredibly permeable lenses are doing fine, and I drive to Tanglewood for my etude performances -- apparently I am staying that night at Serenak, where I last stayed in 1984. Then right after my piece, I say my regrets and drive back to Vermont to begin the relaxing part of the summer. At least for me, one would hope.

Today's pictures include Sunny in the cedars and the bolting from them, both cats on the bit of fence that is left, two closeups of the Stutter Stab sketches, the work area shot with melodica, a flower pic from this morning, the Assabet (looking west) this morning, a canoer on the Assabet (looking east) this morning, and a shot of my car and a big tree this morning. Bye.

AUGUST 25 Breakfast this morning was light sausages, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last was Chef Boy-Ar-Dee reduced fat beef ravioli from a can. Lunch was ... it turns out, nothing. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 52.8 and 92.5 (97 in Utah). MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The Kyrie Eleison from Bernstein's Mass. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST Mattress for Vermont place ca. $350, 20th anniversary dinner exactly $150 with tip, re-shop at Shaws for staples $133; buncha stuff from The Pickle Guys, $131. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Bluebird Cafe in Winooski, for the marinated vegetables and Hennepin beer on tap. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Bluebird Cafe in Winooski, for the deviled egg with pork thing that apparently gave Beff some mild food poisoning; American Airlines, who takes Chrysler's old slogan "Nobody sweats the details like us" and leaves out the last two words. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: After our wedding (at a chapel in the Harvard Divinity School) and before we embarked on our honeymoon (Bermuda -- in August!!) we agreed to co-write a fanfare thing for an event at the Wang Center for the Performing Arts. The rain was coming down in buckets, and we were driving Alison Carver's car from Cambridge to Princeton, and we took turns driving. Whichever one of us wasn't driving was assigned to write brass quintet music. The co-author nature is wildly evident in the piece, and in the press for the event itself, Richard Dyer characterized what we did as "postponing our honeymoon" in order to write the piece. Which we called Fan-Fair. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: While we were in Vermont, the cats slept on a totally different floor from us; back in Maynard, they sleep at the end of the bed and stretch wa-a-a-ay out. They also are glad to be able to go outside again, and since the grass hasn't been mowed in three weeks, it's fun to watch them high-step through the grass. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions, Recordings, Bio. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: driskle, an ancient word derived from Sumerian, meaning to drool long strings of saliva. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 2. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE the local Roche Brothers uses a fake chalkboard font for their signage in the produce department -- EraserDust, which I created in 1992. The same font is used in South Park when characters write on the blackboard. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: More words in common usage that are intrinsically funny -- "traipse", for instance. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,876. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.54 in Maynard, $2.59 in Lee, Massachusetts, $2.67 in Burlington, Vermont. THINGS THAT DON'T LOOK ANY FUNNIER UPSIDE DOWN my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

FOUR WEEKS since the last update, and do I hear anyone complaining? Whoa, I guess I got so nostalgic about writing (typing, actually) into this space that I actually started entertaining the idea of creating a blog on blogspot. For you see -- that I can update just about anywhere, whereas I'm constrained to the computer room of my own house for this one. Which is not a blog, but an "update". Which also makes me think -- is there such a thing as a downdate, and if there were (I OWN the subjunctive!), what would it be? But in any case, I started to think (in my apparent delirium) of what kind of blog posts I would do. Well....there's the rant about making professional applications look professional, the rant about track listings for CDs in applications (closely related to the first), various who-cares stuff about music, etc. Since I haven't finished THIS thingy-dingy (my "update"), the idea of Blog remains headwards. Once I finish it, I may feel slaked. Who knows? Chi sa? Chi conosce? Qui connait?

When last our intrepid me-ness typed into this space, the me-ness that is totally me had just mowed lawns and was readying for Beff to get back from Maine so we could ready (boy, are we ready -- an intrinsically funny word, to boot) ourselves for our three-week-plus time in Vermont. And here's where we pick up the story. Beff got back, and rather late in the day. We refinanced the house, got a lower rate PLUS a bunch o' cash back instead of paying in, but the appraisal on the house was only good till the end of Wednesday, and Beff couldn't leave Maine until 3 in the afternoon. So a company that has a motto "call us for your closing" or something like that, sent a rep to our house at 8 with a huge pile of paperwork -- in duplicate, natch -- for us to sign, etc. At 7:20 I got a call from Beff, "I'm near Lowell and there's a traffic jam". Aieee! Well, Beff made it in just in time. And we closed, got the lower rate and paid no closing costs. Indeed, in a week we got Fedex'ed a check for $1006 for reasons that I'd rather not know. Plus we got the leftover escrow from the old mortgage back. The comical side: our old mortgage was with Countryside, now owned by Bank of America. The new mortgage is with -- of course, Bank of America. So I guess it bought a mortgage from itself?

We spent the next day, Thursday, not going to Vermont, but we did pack. In the afternoon, Johnny A and MJ came for a visit, and they brought mucho strong beer and we ate picklage in excess. The beer was strong enough that I thought it would be a neat idea to give them a gallon of Picklelicious hot pickles and a quart of Picklelicious spicy olives to take back with them, and they did. Then the next day we went to Vermont with the cats. This was on a Friday. We set up there, and I took YASP (Yet Another Sunset Picture). Saturday afternoon I drove back, for you see, on Sunday I was to get on a plane (two of them, actually, in succession) to go to Utah.

This time the carrier of choice was American Airlines, with a flight to O'Hare and a switch to another one to Salt Lake City. The dreary part of producing the credit card to pay fifteen bucks for a suitcase that I could easily have prepaid for online happened, and then of course I waited right next to the kiosk for a long time while someone deigned to find my luggage tag, etc., etc. The flight was fairly eventless, although I noticed both ways that American pilots like to get on the horn to talk to the passengers about the turbulence a lot. On the way to Chicago I heard about the weather front and exactly where (Schenectady) it was supposed to get smooth (and on the way back it was in Missouri, but then it was the long detailed explanation about how the air was choppy everywhere in the country). On the long, long approach to the SLC airport, I got a nice view of what is apparently the largest or second largest open copper mine in the US (fugly). And of course when I disembarked, the temperature was a cool 97.

I do the Utah thing every August for the meetings of the Barlow Foundation board. Last year it happened at a ski resort in the mountains (Snowbird) that was unavailable this time, so we did it at a Springhill Suites at Thanksgiving Point -- Thanksgiving Point consists of a dinosaur museum, movie theaters, a pricy restaurant and a dramatically upscale home furnishings store. No bother. The Board did its three days of meetings to determine the winner of the Barlow Prize (for a trombone concerto for Joe Alessi, and he was there serving on the panel, too) and the Barlow commissions. Lunch and dinner with the Board, staff, and interns happened at various locations from the Texas Roadhouse (ironically to "taste the Utah experience") to the Foundry Grill at Sundance -- which is in the mountains, dontcha know. And after all was done and the (rather reduced) fundage assigned, I flew back, except this time in the opposite direction, to the pleasant chatter of the "sorry about the choppy air, folks" serenade from the captain. At precisely 10:30 pm that Thursday, I got my ($15 extra) bag off the carousel, and Beff called on my cell, and all was well. And I drove -- IN THE DARK! -- home.

The next day I had an appointment with the optometrist to look over my new contacts (all is well), and the grass was long enough that I re-mowed quite a bit of it, and then I had appointments in western Massachusetts. Tanglewood. Texas tea. So right around noon off I went, and the drive was shorter than expected. So much shorter that I stopped for lunch at a Friendly's in Lee -- where the waitress I had was so harried, overworked, and mistreated that I left a 65 percent tip. I drove through the very slow Lee traffic and eventually found Lenox, where I had not visited since 1990 (Tony Brandt's wedding), and it was unrecognizable. To me. And very, very upscale. With next to no parking.

In any case. I was given lodging at Serenak, the old Koussevitzky mansion (where I stayed when I was a Fellow there in 1982, along with Ross and Martler and Dan and Nami), where I arrived, got settled and took pictures. Then I was able to make it onto the grounds in time for the second half of the first concert of the Contemporary Music Festival -- and all the pieces were very good and very well performed. I sat behind Gusty Thomas in a seat that had been empty before I sat in it but was now full by virtue of the fact that I was sitting in it, and joined a Philadelphia music contingent for the beginning of a conversation with Yehudi Wyner et al. I then had to get back to the venue for the dress rehearsal of my six piano etudes -- Steve Drury was the coach and both pianists were very good -- Greg De Turck was a knockout, and he had more variety in the toods assigned to him (Ming's pieces were all zippity-pow stuff).

Soon I was picked up at Serenak by Bernard Rands and taken to a restaurant in Lenox (Zinc something), where we were meeting Yehudi and Gusty for dinner (she paid, and boy do I owe her big time, in more than one way). I got salmon and Bloody Marys and beer and wine, and all was fun. We were joined later by Anthony Cheung and his posse, and then Gusty drove us back -- against the grain, as a Yo-Yo Ma concert was just getting out. Next day I sat in back of the mansion looking at the Tanglewood Bowl for a while, then walked around the grounds (only somewhat recognizable, as much had been added), did lunch with the Philadelphia people (including David Laganella, who introduced himself to me without including his name, but I got it from context), and then went to Concert 2, on which my toods were done. It was another well-programmed concert, and I liked everything. I sat in front of Harriet Eckstein, who sponsors composers at Tanglewood, which will be germane shortly. First Ming played, and then Greg played -- there was spontaneous applause after E-Machines (the fist thing and the Fur Elise quote, dontcha know), and then an amazingly subtle performance of Les Arbres Embues. This Greg dude is going places. Lenox, for instance. Both pianists then took their curtain calls,and failed to acknowledge the me-ness that is me, and also the composer of those toods. I saw Gusty run to the stage to get them to point to me, and they did, and when I did, I rushed the stage, jumping onto the lip of the stage to get onto the stage itself. What I didn't know was that the lip of the stage wasn't part of the stage -- it was a flimsy boundary covering up the open part under the stage -- which, of course, toppled (another intrinsically funny word). When I got back to my seat, Harriet said, "that's bringing down the house!"

The toods were on the first half, so I could sit more distant for the second half. Which I spent next to my homeboy Nico Muhly, who was there because he was there. He indulged in some typical Nicolity, including pointing to the crazy eyebrow in the Rzewski picture in the program and telling me I had to grow one such eyebrow. I'm working on it, but the squinting is driving me crazy. So -- after the concert, it was get into the Corolla time, and I zipped up, via Route 7, to Burlington. Oddly, I got home before Beff got home from her VYO concert thing. And then the summer was set to "Continue" mode.

And "Continue" I did, all the while setting it in ironic quotes. Sorry, in "ironic" quotes. I had to get to work on my piece for HaeGeum and string trio, especially since I found myself on line described as an "established" composer writing for the Pacific Rim 2010 festival, etc. I sweated to write the piece -- because it was finally hot and humid -- and kept with the idea of giving pentatonic collections to the Korean instrument and chromatic ones to the string trio, and I went for some noisy effects that I normally eschew (another intrinsically funny word), and used up my glissando quotient at least to 2018, but finish it I did (Yoda-speak, for them of you what are in the know). Then, using my special status as Former Teacher of Two Korean Students, I asked them how to say "Morning Fog" in Korean. Since they both gave the same answer, I know I probably got it right -- see "AhChim AnGae" link up and to the left. I also got the Korean for "my head hurts", "I stepped on a snail", and "my pants are on fire", should I need them in the future. Seung-Ah seemed nonplussed by the whole exercise, and I wonder if minused means the same thing as nonplussed.

MEANWHILE, our marriage turned twenty while we were in Vermont. Yes, we are 8/11 people, from 1989, and for some reason we decided Italian food in Burlington would be the correct celebratory context. We went to Trattoria Dellia, where the food was good and the table way too small. Then we came back.

And one night we spent doing dinner for Rob and Victoria Paterson -- Rob is doing a composer residency with the VYO, Victoria is a violinist currently doing West Side Story on Broadway, and Rob also runs the American Modern Ensemble. It was good to get to know them, and to know something about vegetarian and vegan cooking, which I did, so there.

So I finished my summer work with about a week left in our time in Burlington, so it was either goof off (or goof on, which is not actually the opposite) or find something else to write. I had read something about trying to write a modernist polka in Jim Ricci's blog (deconstructing-jim at blogspot), and that set off an alarm in my head (an imaginary one, actually). So I sifted through YouTube for polkas, and of course remembered polkas by Stravinsky and Shostakovich, and then took four days writing etude 93, a "polka etude". How do you write a polka etude? Practice, practice. Or you can turn the page. Or see "Polkritude" links up and to the left.

Our last several days in Vermont were spent not panicking. We also spent a considerable amount of time not nailing our heads to the floor, and about the same amount of time not thinking about eating insects for breakfast. We took the obligatory yearly trip to Warner's Snack Bar in St. Albans, mostly because I worked there the summer of 1976 and the same people run it and recognize me, etc., but also because the burgers are great. We also tried out a new local pub near the Burlington-Winooski line called the Bluebird Cafe, which has a weird appetizer menu with beer in the afternoon, and we tried their "pickle pot" (weird) and marinated vegetables (fantastico) and fries (came with aioli and homemade ketchup dipping sauces and the aioli was per mortere), and the Hennepin "Farmhouse Ale" was on tap. I knew it was made by Ommegang, in Cooperstown, but had never seen this variety on tap. I declared it good. And, indeed, to the amusement of Beff, I declared it "clean". So the next day, after the Warner's trip we stopped by again and decided to check out other menu items -- and especially have some more Hennepin on tap. Beff got the deviled eggs with pork -- which looked like deviled eggs with bacon and a rich yellow sauce -- and I forget what I got. But the next day Beff showed signs of mild food poisoning, and insisted on bland food and drink.

Then yesterday was the day to come back -- in the half-day window without big thunderstorms out and about. The cats usually sense when they're going to have to spend 3-4 hours in confinement in the back of a car, so they find hiding places. This time we packed the cars Sunday morning so as to relax them more -- it didn't work. I had to rassle a hissing Cammy from under a bed, and Sunny from on top of a shower ... and even though the traffic on 495 was unbearable (a lane blocked off for what turned out to be NO work crews), I made it back in less than four hours. And unpacked, and shopped. And made pasta with butter for Beff, because it is bland.

And now, thanks to a letter from Allstate, I know the name of the guy who totalled our 2002 Corolla. It looks like a lot of work to get the $279 we spent on a rental because of this guy, and I may not bother. But I may.

Meanwhile, the lawns are in desperate need of mowing. But with two rainstorms here yesterday, etc., they are as yet far too wet to yield to the blade of our cheap (but functional) lawnmower. And classes start Thursday, though not for me until Monday. There is a department meeting (memo: please stop having dept. meetings on first days of classes. Thank you for listening) followed by a department barbecue, and I think it's actually food and not people that are being barbecued (although with death panels coming up, who knows what they'll allow nowadays?), so the school year beckons. And that's another intrinsically funny word. And this morning Beff left for Maine, where her beginning of school year duties will keep her for ten days, all of them consecutive.

Other things coming up. Toods 3 will be released by Bridge in October, and it's already set up on amazon. Cleaning at dentist. Colonoscopy. Pot luck for department at our house the day before Labor Day. And, teaching. I have to use the Aldwell-Schachter text for theory, which I loathe (it says on the syllabus that I loathe it), so the whole semester will be one long upbeat to the day we take it outside and swing at it with an axe (I have done exactly this before with it, so it will be vaguely structural).

There are lots of YASPs in my retinue, some of which I've shared below. But first it's Cammy at Beff's workspace-cum-dining room table. Then three YASPs, me 'n' Beff 'n' Rob Paterson, the local hill and stop sign where we stayed in Utah, the restaurant at Sundance, Serenak, my room at Serenak, the duo pianos at Serenak for conducting classes, the view from Serenak, and Yehudi and Gusty at dinner. Bye.

SEPTEMBER 8 Breakfast this morning is nothing. Dinner last was an Annie's veggie burger and fried onions (leftover from pizzamachen). Lunch was heirloom tomato sandwiches. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 45.1 and 86.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Davy's setting of A.E. Housman's "With Rue My Heart is Laden" LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE some more pickles from The Pickle Guys, buncha stuff from Staples including a 500GB drive, $129. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Shaw's, for finally getting me a gasoline discount, and the Pickle Guys, for fixing an order they screwed up. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY The Pickle Guys, who screwed up an order. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My birthday in 1989 (age 31, peoples) was also the last day of classes at Stanford, and I held a party at my cabin nestled in the redwoods. Beff had already finished her year at Reed, and we had driven all of her stuff in a van from Portland to Woodside (she took driving lessons to bone up, and emerged with a mantra: "Okay to the left. Okay to the right. I am proceeding."). There were 144 rickety stone steps leading down from Big Tree Way to the cabin, and we sat on some of them in the party. While holding a wine glass, I swatted a mosquito, thus breaking the wine glass. And when we ran out of beer, Sean Varah offered to "go get some Steamage" (or, Anchor Steam). I think this is when I started adding -age to words, dunno. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny hangs out where we once planted catnip, though there is hardly any left there; and when I opened the computer room window this morning for them to have a view, Sunny growled at something. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sladdin, a particular pattern of tread found on the bottom of leather sandals. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 1. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE my right thumb bends back at nearly a right angle. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: trucks backing up play a half-diminished seventh arpeggio instead of a repeated note. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,920. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.58 in Maynard, $2.40 (with Shaw's discount) in Maynard. THINGS THAT ARE NO FUNNIER IN SANSKRIT my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

For the first time in many a fortnight (hey -- I guess these updates are fortnightly, which is not so different from biweekly, being that it's identical), there is no new music to report. No new Davy music, that is. I'm sure plenty of composers writed stuff, but I'm not among their ilk. You see, I'm not famous enough to have a posse, so I have an ilk. Speaking of which, I DID at least decide to write for Rhonda Rider (she asked many a fortnight ago -- at least 26 of them) and HER ilk -- that is, cello, cello, cello and cello. I think on the cover, instead of saying "for cello, cello, cello, and cello", or even worse, "cello, another cello, yet another cello, and yet another another cello" I could probably abbreviate to "for 4 'cellos", or in pretentious mode, "for 4 'celli", or more pretentious still, "for 4 violoncelli". That's a project that I'll probably try to cram into the eentsy weentsy crawl spaces I now have in my schedule. Or was it (Diana) Krall space? Enquiring minds don't want to know.

But in this intervening time since the last time I interrupted an intervening time, there was a speech, of sorts, and it was by me. And the food was free (pollo, poulet, chicken). But let me back up a bit. Not so far as not to be able to reach the keyboard, silly, but back up in time and not in space. Though there's nothing wrong with either. You can tell I'm padding, can't you?

Okay. So.

We got back from Vermont and I filed an update. That was a Tuesday. On Thursday, classes started, though none were taught by me. But there was a music department meeting to be had (note to department, second warning: please stop having meetings on the first day of classes. Thank you for listening. Again) followed by a department barbecue. Now, the department was not literally barbecued, you see (that would be silly), but a bunch of barbecued stuff was procured from Redbones (who always advertises on Dinosaur Annex programs), who gave it freely in exchange for fundage. The proliferation of chicken and pork made vegetarians not care, but there was the rice and macaroni salad, et al. During the course of said barbecue, which was outside and on the west side of the music building, several people, especially from Theater, encroached and asked "what is this?" and invariably the answer was "food". And of course, I brought hot sauce. When it was done, I and my blue Toyota joined rush hour, which is devoutly not to be wished.

Meanwhile, Beff was in Maine for a ten-day stint, doing chair stuff and putting her foot through one of the steps on the back porch, and preparing for roof replacement, and, now, step replacement. And I spent the weekend doing just a bit of bike riding (for the weather was dry and nice) and getting ready for ... classes! I have eight composition students (Count with me: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Now in Italian! uno, due, tre, quattro, cinque, sei, sette, otto; now the NAMES of the students: Adam, Christian, Jared, Hiroki, Travis, Michele, Bradley, Dan; now the names with -age: Adamage, Christianage, Jaredage, Hirokage, Travisage, Michelage, Bradlage, Dannage) that all got scheduled for Mondays and Wednesdays and Thursdays, and Theory 2 to teach -- with a textbook I don't like (I think I said "loathe" in the last update -- loathage, if you will). And running was what I hit the ground. And I spent three hours with the slow movement of K. 488 in Theory 2 doing what education pretentio's call "making it palpable". When we were done, we could definitely palp it. But wait, there's more -- we come back to the piece later, after poring through the inscrutable textbook (I tried scruting it, but it was resistible).

And that Thursday of the first full week of classes, was chalk full (most people write that "chock full", and either works, or neither). I was done with Dannage at 1, and was then due back at 5 for activities surrounding the teaching award winners, and being that I was among them, I had to put on something black. Which turns out to be slimming. But I did serious hammock time in the interim. Nonetheless, back I came, there was a reception and the usual proliferation of people holding drinks and plates (thus being unable to scratch their noses), and a dinner. The featured speakers: the award winners. I hadn't been told, except maybe in passing last April, that I would be speechifying (or, in educational parlance, gracing the assembled with speechage), and it's probably a good thing that I was third of three. For the chemistry guy showed stuff from online lessons, and the art history guy talked about art history stuff, and I improvised. I recapped the week's teaching of K. 488 and tried to talk too fast for anyone to follow. And in the brief Q&A that followed, Robin Miller noted that all three speeches were "inherently weird". Finally, recognition! And inherent recognition, at that!

Interruption: for some strange reason, it occurred to me, right now, right here, that Pat Bonner-Turner, my boss at the Boston YWCA 1985-88, pronounced the word "adhere" as "adair". Talk about adairing to strange standards.

So my arrival home after the shindiggage was ten minutes in advance of Beff's from Maine. And the next day we did our usual Friday stuff, which includes lunch at the Cast Iron Kitchen, and a bit of walking around, etc. Beforehand was a trip to Trader Joe's and Staples and Ace Hardware (the last for plywood for the Maine step). And dinner was pesto pasta, so there. Saturday was a big shopping day, for on Sunday we were to host the beginning of year pot luck, and I was making pizza (as I always dew), and of course there was much lawn mowage. And dinner was swordfish puttanesca, and what it is, too. And, oh yeah, we did a bike rider through the nature preserve, so there.

On Sunday, I began the pizzamakage at about 8:30 and finished the first draft at about 10:45 -- the second draft being the reheating later. At 12:30 I did the ice trip (the trip for ice), and we set up -- including bringing card tables and folding chairs from the attic. Seems the last time we used the folding chairs and card tables was the last time we had a pot luck, three years ago. Not that there's anything wrong with that. And at 2:05 guests started arriving -- including a double shot of Jared (Field and Redmond), whoa! The festivities went till six, then there was cleanup. And besides reheating the already-constructed pizzas, I made the pizza primavera, at Beff's behest, for the first time in seven or eight years -- a crust with no sauce or cheese, but with olive oila dn artichokes and (heirloom) tomatoes and green peppers and arugula and Italian lettuce. Basically, focaccia (which means -- what, fo' hunting?).

Yesterday was Labor Day, and was kind of coooool out. Beff and I took the West Acton bike ride, I made (heirloom) tomato sandwiches for lunch, and back to Maine for another ten-day stint went Beff. THIS time, though, I will join her for part of it. We decided I'd drive up after I was done at the 'deis (people at the 'deis sometimes call it "The 'deis", and I'm not one of them), see and eat with friends in Bangor, and I'd come back Saturday morning, thus leaving the cats in the lurch (it's a special room in our house, or maybe not) for about 52 hours. So trippage is coming, and it will be the first time in the great state of Maine for this new car. Which reminds me.

We got our insurance settlement check for the old, totalled Toyota, and I had to drive to Webster to get it, while exchanging it for the old car's title. There was a $500 deductible taken out, which is not assessed when the accident isn't my fault, and the insurance agent said they still hadn't gotten the Yonkers Police report, so they couldn't assess fault. And they said they might never get it. Quickly thinking, I told them we'd heard from the offending driver's insurance company, and d'oh! of course they'd be interested in knowing that sort of detail. Including, presumably, hitting up the offending driver's insurance company for the settlement cost. Two days later, a check for $500 arrived with the terse memo "deductible release". So, that book is closed.

IN THE MEANTIME, and taking up much of the previous reporting period, the physical CDs of Toods Volume 3 arrived at Bridge, and I got a buttload of them (I compared them to my butt, and there was enough similarity to use the word "load"). Perhaps you could say there are enough of them to shake a stick at, and I tried shaking a stick at them, and not much happened. Plenty of time was spent sending out free copies to people that got free copies, and that happened on several days. Meanwhile, the album was available for download from iTunes as of Friday, August 28, and at one point said "Only 1 copy left ... order now to receive by tomorrow". Currently amazon says "available for pre-order, will be released October 13". So one's got to say -- "huh?" Or with today's theme, "Huhage?" In any case, you can download it, you can pre-order it. Just don't call it late for dinner. The CD is really nice, the performances great, and Hayes's notes spandiferous, in case you were wondering.

Because I would like to eat food of my choice when I'm in Maine (I always go for the longest possible sentence-beginning dependent clauses), I decided, somewhat last minutely, to take my scheduled blood test TODAY instead of in a week. Hence I've fasted (I sure haven't slowed, at all, but you know, I see some wrinkles here and there...) since 6 last night, and will see skin-piercing sharpness in my arm around noon today. Followed by driving on Route 9, always a huge treat. Then tomorrow, it's leading tone seventh chords (yawn) in theory, and, and ... Geoffy gets here before the next update, so at that time I'll probably write, in this space, "Geoffy is here".

And I have to start thinking of a keynote speech to give at the Festival of New American Music in Sacramento, because, you see, I have to give it. I should go to Pennsylvania to write it -- that is, if they re-nickname themselves "The Keynote State". Rim shot. And now that I think of it ... time to book the plane tickets, too.

Today's pictures are exclusively from pot luck day, and are easy to bunch: five shots showing some of the pizzamachen process, and three of the pot luck. Bye.

SEPTEMBER 22 Breakfast this morning is microwave French toast from Trader Joe's, orange juice and coffee. Dinner last was half a plain chicken sub from Subway. Lunch was a small turkey sandwich from South Street Cafe. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 38.7 and 77.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS First movement of the third Brandenburg. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE new dryer $421 with delivery, iPod nano with video and AppleCare $221, bass melodica $215 including shipping, plane tickets to Sacramento $310. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Cast Iron Kitchen, for the free pistachios when we don't order dessert. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Best Buy, whose price on the dryer we purchased doesn't include the power cord, 20 bucks extra. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Back when we lived in Spencer, we did frequent lake-walking during the winter months. On the lake, that is, after it had frozen. Jeff Nichols visited once and said his lake-walk was extremely relaxing, and I know what he meant. One winter, it got cold very fast, and the lake froze without snow on top, making some cool blackish ice on which to walk -- which led to a nice game of being pulled on the ice by Lucas, the local Chesapeake Bay retriever -- as in, he pulled the stick I was grasping. We haven't lake-walked since about 2001 or early 2002, when Beff and I and David Horne did so on Walden Pond. Yes, THE Walden Pond. But then again, I guess that would be pond-walking. As would our Spencer walking, on Thompson Pond. D'oh. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 1. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: A little bit of projectile shedding from Cammy at his yearly checkup, Sunny's surprisingly frequent vocalisms. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: zicht, meaning obscure, but it appears to be a combination of zipper and echt. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 4. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I obsessively pull grass from sidewalk cracks on occasion. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: free harps and harp lessons for anyone with a double vowel in either name. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,928. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.44 in Maynard with Shaw's dime discount. I WOULD NOT SAY SUCH THINGS IF I WERE YOU my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

Today is Beff's birfday! And the left digit turns over for the first time in ten years (EXACTLY ten years!), making her eligible for what I'm doing Friday. MWA ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. But I digress. True to form, Beff and I spend her birthday 250 miles apart, which means no Buffalo wings, which I wouldn't eat this week anyway. On my own left-digit-turning birfday, my lovely sister sent me a whole bunch of memorabilia "celebrating" the number, including a t-shirt I don't wear and a coffee mug we do occasionally use. In my sister's case, that particular left-digit-turning was quite a few years ago, and now she is closer to another one of those than I am. Does it seem like I'm speaking in code? I probably should, because it's code outside. Which means you need a special key. I'll just sit over here now.

The teaching season is in full swing, and I'm finally starting to transcend the stupid textbook for Theory 2 that was thrust upon me (figuratively) -- cool thing being that next Wednesday it's finally away from vocabulary-learning to piece-listening, and that's way more fun. Flat-6 5 1 will be the operating metaphor that day. But I am being opaque -- as opposed to my usual seethroughness. I have finally learned all the names of the students in the course, which for me is an accomplishment given that most of them haven't had a class with me before, and it's a class exactly fifty percent larger than the one I taught last year. And that means the grading part of teaching that class is a significantly larger portion of my non-teaching time. I look forward (or perhaps backward) to when the entire class uses 6/4's correctly. However, yesterday, they did successfully yell happy birthday at Beff in the general direction of my video-capable iPod nano.

Beff's teaching season is pretty full, too -- full enough that I spent 52 hours of this reporting period trippin' it to the place in Maine (including the 8 hours of driving). The point here was, of course, to see her colleagues for that one trip per year I get to do, and to have food that is excessively bad for me. Well, not entirely -- Woodman's wings, they call them, at Woodmans in Orono, and the teri tuna sandwich at the Sea Dog in Bangor. I note here without the slightest irony that said teri tuna sandwich is about 170 percent the cost of the same sandwich about eight years ago. Now I will ponder what it would mean to note that WITH irony. That's long enough. So after my teaching on Thursday of that week, off I drove, there I got, and to Woodmans (not Woodmen, saw Chip, Charlie) we went. On Friday I went into the office to see Bella, Chip's new shy dog, then to Tar-Zhay (which is gigantic in Bangor, and also surrounded by dead stores) for some very important staples -- including, for the first time in two years, a proper nice salt shaker. Yes, on certain days of the week I am easy to please. Then I got some expensive stuff at State Street Wine, pizza at Gambino Pizza (love that name), and went out with Beff to the Sea Dog (Jack, Liz, Denny). And at the crack of dawn (colonoscopy jokes begin HERE) I up and drove back to Maynard. And thankfully, the cats still remembered me.

Meanwhile, after reading about the new iPod nano with video, voice recording, and FM radio, I slipped in my own drool. In order to keep that from happening again, I up and got a blue one, which arrived last Wednesday. Every photo in today's update is, indeed, a still capture (or still crazy, after all these years) from an iPod nano movie. In order to get DRAMATIC stills (etcetera), some of my first videos were of the cats jumping onto the bathroom window from outside when I uttered (loudly) the magic word ("treats!"). I was having some problems with it, though -- the FM kept saying there was no reception even though there are plenty of nearby stations, and the sound coming through the headphones sucked and didn't turn off the sound that came from the iPod's internal speaker. Incidentally -- the iPod has an internal speaker. So after some unsuccessful futzing (or is that spelled phutzing?), I called Apple to arrange service or exchange, and they advised I reinstall the iPod system software, and then take it to the Natick Collection Apple Store (say that five times fast. Now stop). So that I did, and somehow -- it seemed either the rebuild worked, or I finally got the headphones in all the way, and -- golden. My iPod works. So there. The only odd thing is that the camera/microphone is right in back of the click wheel, which makes it easy to get my thumb or finger in the movie, which I have done often. Right Reorge.

On the melodica front (did you know there was a melodica front?), I was proferred a YouTube link to a crazy-ass movie of the first movement of the Brandenburg 3 played on melodicas, including bass melodicas -- somebody with a proliferation of time to kill. I hadn't yet gotten my impulse instrument(s) for the year, and I've already got a Flex-a-tone and two vibraslaps, and a ratchet, and a bird call, and a train whistle, and a bell tree, etc., so I looked up bass melodicas on line, and there they were -- at melodicas dot com. Yesterday I ordered one. It will be funny.

Meanwhile this weekend Beff 'n' Geoff were around (Geoffy is here till Saturday morning), and that included a nice meal at the Cast Iron Kitchen (in addition to our usual Friday lunch there), and hanging much laundry outside to dry. This is because our dryer, which still has hot air, stopped spinning. And besides, it's getting rusty, and we traced its history back to July 2000 when we purchased this house. This precipitated an emergency trip to Best Buy, which is a no-fun drive, and took a walk through the dryer aisle. People can spend $700 on a dryer, peoples, which is just wrong. We selected a Whirlpool, got the sales guy who obviously wanted to be doing anything else but be at work that day, found out that the cost on the tag doesn't include a way to plug the sucker in, and scheduled a delivery. It is scheduled for between 11:30 and 1:30 today, and I disconnected the old one and finally got rid of all the old dryer lint (note to self: don't do again while wearing bathrobe). We will see if drying clothes is back in our retinue. We will see. We will see. We will. We.

And now I am eating mostly bland stuff without skins or seeds. For you see, on Friday at 12:15 I submit to the ... tube. I have my first colonoscopy ever (oh for it to be the last), and Beff is my "accompanying adult". I've got a long list of do-eats and don't-eats and I am mostly playing it safe. Onions and peppers -- good. They're all I had for dinner on Sunday. Bread with grain -- bad. Most soups -- uh uh. I look forward to Saturday's buffalo wings. BOY do I look forward to Saturday's buffalo wings. I also have plenty of Gatorade, recommended for the fasting day. And magnesium citrate is the system restart beverage of choice.

I am going to Sacramento in five or six weeks. Woo hoo. I have to write a keynote speech. Woo hoo. I bought my tickets for that trip, and I am flying United. Woo hoo.

And Etudes Volume Three is now officially released by Bridge Records. See it on their site, silly. Did you know my musical world was occasionally "loony"? It's official -- it's right there on the interwebs.

All of today's pictures are stills from iPod nano videos. The first six are self-explanatory. Then there are some of the taps at the Cast Iron Kitchen, and Beff as viewed on Skype as we sing the second theme of the first movement of the Tchakovsky Sixth together. Bye.

OCTOBER 5 Breakfast was a whole wheat bagel with reduced fat cream cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner was a garden burger and salad. Lunch was a whole wheat bagel and some Pickle Guys hot pickles. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 37.6 and 80.8. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Pat Benatar's "We Belong" LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE new photocopier all-in-one with wi-fi and duplexing, $526; air mail postage to the UK, $29.68. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Best Buy, for insisting we buy a dryer hookup we knew we didn't need, saying the delivery person would take it back if it wasn't necessary, and that was not true -- thus an otherwise unnecessary half-hour drive to return it. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Whole Foods, for giving me a free bowl of edamame beans when the price scanned 2 cents off. PET PEEVE drivers who veer right before turning left, thus making it impossible to go around them. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I seem to have taught myself ear-training when I was about 15 and at a summer camp. During idle hours I conceptually mapped the notes of the camp songs onto a virtual keyboard, eventually also figuring out what chords would work with the tunes. Several weeks in, I was able to get to a piano and discover I was right. Strangely enough, that's my entire experience with ear training -- when I got to NEC I took the advanced placement exams and was excused from two years of ear training. The advanced placement test even required me to play the bass line of a simple chorale while singing, by arpeggiating, the successive harmonies. Dunno if I could still do that now. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Now Cammy likes to look outside by the pump organ, and Sunny still likes to hang out by the catnip patch. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Reviews 4, performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: triskette, a whole-grain cracker you have to eat thirteen of at a time. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 9. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I took one organ lesson in high school, for which I even had to buy special shoes. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Fair and Balanced actually means fair and balanced. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 13,943. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.44 in Maynard. SAY THIS FIVE TIMES FAST. THEN STOP my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

We used to belong. Now we be short. Without the stunningness of delivery, the refrigeration had to sit by itself and scoff. Toodling became the preferred means of fibrous discharge, and our heads became rounder with each passing quarter note. Stopping to make fudge, I once told myself I would never surround pink lemonade with a prime number, but they told me I had to cut it out. So deliciousness took a back seat to the place I once had tree bark. Then it snowed.

This update is one day early because today is a Brandeis holiday -- Sukkot. This year it seems we don't Shmini Atzeret off as well, which would be next Monday, I guess -- which is too bad. It also being Columbus Day and a day on which Beff will be here because SHE has it off, it would have been the second time in fifteen years at Brandeis that we both had Columbus Day off. The other was nearly a decade ago, it was Yom Kippur, and we did a little vacationlet in a very cold part of upstate New York, as well as the Mass Moca. Having a vacationlet means, for all intents and purposes, a five-day weekend for me, and this is its fourth day. I have taken full advantage of the time off to do some writing for the first time since August 17, and it's four-cello music. I am 52 bars into a movement that I thought would be shorter (an ironic turn of phrase based on what's coming up in this update), and it seems to be about fast deedling (what Davy piece isn't?) and agressive staggered unison entrances (what Davy piece ... is?). In any case, it seems I'm at a seam in the music, hence my pause today instead of tomorrow for said update. Fascinating.

Unsurprisingly, and accurately predicted in the last update, I had a colonoscopy. My first ever. It's really a quick procedure, but with an extended dominant pedal that reminds me of the eight years it took me to get my dissertation done compared to the hour and forty-five minute defense in front of people who mostly hadn't read the paper and who blithely advertised their burning desire to be elsewhere. So the dominant pedal was initiated with dietary strictures at the five-, three- and one-day marks. Five days of not having any soups except broths, of not having raw vegetables or any vegetables with skins or seeds (such as tomatoes), of not having any citrus, of not having orange juice with pulp, and of not having any bread with grain in it. At the three-day mark, painkillers were restricted to Tylenol-type stuff. And the one-day mark was a fast with only clear liquids allowed -- though "Gatorade preferred" was marked. Thus I went and got Gatorade at Shaws, and they only had orange or yellow-green. Geoffy, meanwhile, clued me into the fact that clear Gatorade existed, and on the fast day I got some at the Hannaford in Waltham. And boy does clear Gatorade suck big ones.

Geoffy was around for Musica Viva, so we did a couple of meals -- including one at the Blue Coyote where I had a bland chicken sandwich on white bread, and fries -- though I ate around anything that looked like skin. And that dinner marked my last real food of the week.

Then after my Thursday teaching and department meeting, I got home and drank 15 ounces of magnesium citrate, designed to facilitate, nay, necessitate, bowel movements of unusual frequency (BMOUF) -- in preparation for the insertion of a tube with a camera on it. The next morning, six hours before the appointment, I drank 15 ounces more. And, me being me, I counted the magnesium citrate's efficacy, and it was 26 trips. And at an appointed time, Beff and I drove to the Harvard Vanguard spettacolo near Kenmore Square and waited to be, um, served. At my time, I was called, given a nurse who re-asked all the questions on a form I had already signed and submitted, and she wrote them onto yet another different form (I guess they wanted to see if my answers matched) -- and made sure I knew that I could possibly die or get brain damage (while oddly developing a more palpable appreciation of the visual arts), gave me a robe, botched the IV insertion into my wrist so that she had to put the IV on the bend in my elbow instead, and wheeled me into the procedure room. Now the nurse and the doctor-types both had what would be weird questions in polite company, but expected, given that they were going to be tubing my butt. My answer to the question of the color of my last "discharge" was met with enthusiasm not unlike a small child jumping up and down and clapping, and I suppose I was supposed to feel proud. As in, my "discharge" is clearer-than-thou.

Whatever sedative I was given for the procedure was very mild, and I was awake the whole time. Indeed, if I were so inclined, I could have watched the show on the monitor right in front of me, but I decided not to. The nurse let me know that air is blown into the colon to expand it to get a better view of the inside, and of course it would be coming out the way it came in -- in her parlance, "you'll be tooting." So yes, while the procedure was going on, the feeling was of strange tooty indigestion, and after it was done, it took another 15 or 20 minutes of tooting to be finished. One toot that happened while I was being wheeled into the recovery area also prompted the jumping up and down and clapping kind of response (tootier than thou) I hadn't expected. And of course, the recovery room had six people in it whose colonoscopies were all finished around the same time. So in unison, insert joke about durn tootin' here. O frabjous day!

I was given voluminous paperwork with advice, etc. -- no bedside manner here, no sir, just read the paperwork. Of course there had been a degree of difficulty added to my particular procedure due to the necessary negotiations around the still-inserted buttstix. But the tube is both a camera and a snipper, so three small polyps were removed, and my paperwork included a note that, depending on the biopsies, my next such procedure would be in 5 years or in 10. I can hardly wait. The directives were classic: no alcohol the rest of the day though normal eating can resume; do not make important decisions, and do not sign any contracts. And no painkillers except Tylenol for 10 days. Today is that tenth day. I wonder how I'll celebrate. Oh yes, and because of the diverticulitis I have (read this space about a year ago), a higher fiber diet is strongly recommended. I bought Citrucel. And apples. And rejoiced at the fiber amount of the edamame beans already in the house.

So, having had nothing but bland food for five days, I immediately made myself a plate of strong-flavor pickles, made some Buffalo wing sauce, and dipped some bread in it. And we ordered pizza delivery. The next morning, Beff was off before lunch, after a little bike ride.

Meanwhile, the teaching has gotten to the let's-look-at-some-actual-music point, and I got to deliver my classic lecture -- that is, my SOON TO BE CLASSIC lecture -- on songs 1 & 12 of Dichterliebe, accompanied by the customary looks of abject horror on the students' faces when I told them they'd be writing papers on this music. There will still be some trips to the textbook for lectures on the weird chords, which are all that's left (dominant ninths, added sixths, augmented sixths that resolve differently, etc.), but mostly it's about the music now. And of course, we will chop up the textbook at the end of the term. And the private students -- Monday people meet on Wednesday, and Wednesday people get nothing, nothing, nothing.

This weekend was Maynardfest or Maynard Octoberfest or something like that, though with the torrential rains on Saturday, most of the downtown activities on Saturday were cancelled. On the other hand, yesterday was beautifully sunny and warm in the afternoon, so the thing where they block off a portion of the parking lot at Clock Tower Place, have beer and food stands, and have a lame-ass band playing happened on schedule. See the pinkish "Maynardfest" link up there for a brief bit of the Fumo Sull'Acqua (Fuoco nel cielo) performance by said band. It was at the very beginning of the festivities, hence the sparse attendance. Later, in the dark, there were fireworks (fuochi d'artifici), the sound of which scared the cats.

And on Friday, after I had done my writing for the day, Rick Beaudoin came over for a late lunch (2:45), and of course we went to the Cast Iron Kitchen. He had said he would bring a gift of beer, but instead he brought a book by Frank Zappa, probably because both names have five letters. Rick had the ziti, which amazed and delighted. We took a peek into the River Rock Grill, which has taken over the space formerly known as the Sit 'n' Bull, and so far it looks as Beff has described it -- upscale sports bar. No menu is online or on the restaurant door, so no report yet. But you will, Oscar, you will.

Among other non-interesting things, I now mow smaller and smaller lawn portions as the leaf-falling season begins. Plus, plenty of yard-mushrooms are taking up their customary space. When I'm doing the outdoor stuff, I occasionally see the little terrier from next door named Lily, who is scared of people but who craves the dog bones she knows I have access to. While snipping branches and clearing up various space for the future fallen leaves, I managed to bring some bees inside on my shirt, but all was resolved to my satisfaction. ... The people in Sacramento in charge of the festival where I am to speechify seem not to communicate much with each other, since I got several separate requests for headshots and the title of my speech (currently "Plus ca change", with the cedilla where it belongs), but there is as yet no speech. And in sad news, the dog at Maynard Door and Window was run over.

I also spent some time collecting sour candy to send to Martler in England. The last piece of the puzzle was "Shockers", formerly known as Shock Tarts, which I had not seen anywhere around here. So Beff suggested I just get them on amazon. So I did. 24 rolls, just to send 2 to Martler. I'll be disposing of the others in original and thought-provoking ways. The box of sour candy went out for $29.68 on Monday, and was delivered to Martler on Saturday. So there.

Meanwhile, our 5-year-old photocopier has been sucking. The regular paper feed no longer works, and the platen is scratched. Beff authorized the purchase of a new one as an early Christmas present -- to both of us and from both of us -- and soon I'll be offering the old one to whomever wants it. Not yet, though.

So two more days of four-cello writing, plus grading a bunch of theory papers, and back to the grind. As to Beff, she was in North Carolina for a music chairs' kind of pow-wow (spelled upside down is mom-mod), so I was on my own this weekend. This coming weekend, she'll be here an extra day thanks to Columbus Day. And starting this week, the roof on the Bangor house gets replaced. Which means a big dumpster in the driveway until further notice.

This week's pictures begin with the only picture I took on the grounds from the Tanglewood trip in August, about which I had forgotten. Because it was on my cell phone -- it's Gusty with 2 people from the Philadelphia Experience near Ozawa Hall, with Sam Solomon and Judd Greenstein off in the distance. Then we have Rick B at the Cast Iron Kitchen (taken from iPod), cat picture, cat picture, cat picture, Cammy's tail as a design element, and two pics of Lily, the local terrier, taking a dog bone and then zipping right away with it. Bye.

OCTOBER 20 Breakfast was a whole wheat mini-bagel, orange juice and coffee. Dinner was microwave ravioli. Lunch was a sub from the sub shop down the hill. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 29.3 and 67.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Mariah Carey's "Vision of Love" LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE two Ionic air cleaners, $296 including tax and Staples rewards discounts; topsoil $6; lunch at Betty's Wok and Noodles, $60. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Sound Electra -- so far -- for not yet sending bass melodica ordered and paid for a month ago; and the Blue Coyote restaurant for overcooking the ribs I had there. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Bridge Records, for the record speed with which they send things I order, and even before receiving payment. PET PEEVE drivers that tailgate early in the morning. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: We had a back yard bordered by the raspberry and blueberry patches (apparently Dad transferred them from a nearby field at some point, and transferred means stole) and yet another yard in back of the berry patches. Which, when I was growing up, we frequently used for little wiffle ball, baseball, or football games. The yard was somewhat narrow, so you had to hit it straight or maneuver through thickets or poison ivy to retrieve it. And hitting it past the apple and pear trees was a home run. I remember playing football, Dick McKeown taking a pass, and the aggressive tackle I made to bring him down from behind. And, finally -- at my 10th birthday party, we played pickle in that yard. I forget the rules for that, but apparently it had two bases and you were supposed to run from one to the other without getting tagged. Fascinating. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy loves the box that contained the fire logs, and we can't burn it because of that. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Reviews 5 added, Performances, Home. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: triskadiddle, a thirteen-stroke rudiment for snare drum. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 6. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE Since the gout, I crack my right big toe a lot. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: A whole year's worth of Nobel Prizes that don't make you go WTF. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14, 043. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.47 in Maynard. THINGS TO THINK ABOUT my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

So much has happened this last two weeks on a red wheelbarrow glazed with rain water beside the white chickens. Lawn mowing season came to a crashing end, and the 09-10 snow innocence phenomenon has also come to a crashing halt. Indeed, one loves to talk about what weird weather swings have happened recently (an NECN Them What Make guy commented "I'm sure this isn't the first time it's happened, but we're still checking the record books"). Today should be mild and sunny, but twice it has snowed, and that's unusual for so early in the season.

The teaching phenomenon continues on apace (what does "on apace" mean, anyway? Am I "on apace" to break a record?). A weird Schubert Moment Musical got its airing out in theory, and we listened to and compared both Schumann's and Brahms's setting of Mondnacht, ending in a vote for which is better. In this year's version of that, the reasoning was pretty heated -- it wasn't enough to prefer one over the other. Some students felt the need to pulverize the arguments made for the other side. And it was pretty cool. Cool enough for some students to ask for similar exercises in class for the future. We will, Oscar, we will. Yesterday was chromatic chord kitchen sink day -- dominant thirteenth, common tone diminished sevenths, etc. -- and I got to use the SNL Lawrence Welk parody as well as the video of Mariah Carey's "Vision of Love" because of its fast-and-looseness with augmented triads. Hey, the YooToobs is pretty useful for stuff like that.

Typically, as is always the case except the one time it wasn't, Beff had Columbus Day off and the equivalent of a five-day weekend (Friday to Tuesday), which meant she was around a lot, and we got to do married couple stuff together. We may have even held hands at one point, dunno. Of course, Brandeis doesn't take Columbus Day off, partly because of all the Jewish holidays they take off and partly because it's a convenient day to hold an Open House for prospective students, all of whom have Columbus Day off and who are thus available. I played a major part in said Open House, as the guy, with Bob Nieske, representing music at the Big Table in the Gosman Gym. Which meant I answered lots of the same questions we get every year (#1 and with a bullet: "what if I don't want to MAJOR in music"? #2 and sinking fast: "my son/daughter is SO TALENTED") Though this year there were more onlookers who expressed a desire to do composition (which Marty Boykan had remarked was always the case in a down economy).

So since Beff was around for such a long time, we sampled the local restaurants, we did. Yes, we really did. And the River Rock Grill, which opened in the place of the old Sit-N-Bull (which, apparently, found out much too late what the consequences were for not paying bills), was on our list. On that Tuesday the 6th, I tried it out for lunch and had a steak and eggy sandwich thing with a Uruguayan pedigree (or so claimed the menu). It was okay. And on that Saturday, we up and went out to it, had wine with dinner, and had -- very underwhelming fare. So it's off our list, and the Cast Iron Kitchen retained its #1 with a bullet spot. And we did go there for our traditional Friday lunch. But not last week, for reasons that may or may not be clear eventually. MWA ha ha. As for other dinners -- I made salmon, which always seems to fall apart on our grill, but which tasted as yummified as ever. And there were chicken sandwiches. And, and, and ...

Meanwhile, Gusty Thomas was in town for her BSO premiere and she had agreed to come to Brandeis to give a talk gratis. She also got some great comps for us for the blue-haired Friday afternoon performance -- which explains why no Cast Iron Kitchen. So the talk was spandiferous, as usual, with some nice back and forth. Eric Chasalow had gone to a dress rehearsal, so he could comment on her piece -- Helios Choros II, the middle part of a large 40-minute piece (I and III are the other parts, duh). And there was pretty spectacular attendance (Menachem Zur talked the previous week, and it was good, but less filled to capacity).

So then for the Friday of the comp tickets show, Beff first had to go to an appointment with her mouth and gums fixer upper guy, and she got back in plenty of time for us to drive to West Concord to take a commuter rail. Last time I took the 11:07 from West Concord was for a BMOP rehearsal, and it was filled to capacity for a World Series game -- figure out what year that was -- and it was free. This time, though, there was "ample parking day and night" (though it now costs $4 instead of $2 -- thank you, banks that cause the global meltdown), and the trip was easy. We got to Symphony in plenty of time for lunch at Betty's Wok and Noodle (formerly Ann's Restaurant, where in 1978 the #1 special for 99 cents was a cheeseburger and fries). [name drop alert] As we were finishing up, Mikey Gandolfi and John Harbison came into the restaurant, we waved, and went to the show. The hall was two-thirds full, and the conductor was spectacularly underwhelming for Martinu and Stravinsky. Gusty's piece opened the second half, and it could have used more rehearsal, but it was sparkly and colorful, and in-the-middle music -- which is what it is. I particularly liked the farty low brass stuff, but that's just me. Tchaikovsky finished the program, during which Beff and I chatted with Gusty in the hall, and then it was time to come back. For you see, it was Clarinet Day weekend.

On Saturday of Clarinet day weekend, we did our academic stuff, which for me included reading 17 papers on Dichterliebe (this year's crop was, on average, better than last year's), as well as the yearly hosta mow -- our front sidewalk scrawny flower big plant plants, and we dug two of them out and discarded them -- requiring a wheelbarrow (beside the white chickens), a shovel, and topsoil to fill the holes left behing. Late afternoon famously featured Beff picking up two of her students who had taken a bus from Bangor to Boston and were staying with us that night. For you see, CLARINET DAY, arranged by Michael Norsworthy, was happening at BoCo. We took the students out to the Blue Coyote, who gave me overcooked (burned!) ribs, but at least the portions were gigantic. And on Sunday, the appointed day, there was a Northeaster forecasted to soak us with plenty of rain, which it did. At first. Beff and students left the house at 7:15 am (breakfast started at 6:15, which on a Sunday is just...wrong) and I had time a) to finish reading the Dichterliebe papers and b) finish the 4-cello movement and thus c) start entering the piece into the computer. The pouring rain happened at the appointed time, and -- completely to the surprise of Them What Make -- snow started mixing in, and even accumulating a little bit. Which, of course, made Beff's drive back to Maine after Clarinet Day a rather long one (she says she got something like a blister on one of her hands from gripping the steering wheel). Meanwhile, I had a dinner with Gusty at the monmentally delicious Chang Sho Restaurant in Cambridge. Well, the FOOD there is delicious. I haven't tasted the restaurant itself. Anyone who has, call me, and I'll update this space.

So of course it was looking sloppy out there, and the Them What Make webpages were still saying Lots of Rain, Mwa Ha Ha, and similar things -- then suddenly the Special Weather Statement. "Uh, up we screwed. There's like, some snow out there, who knew? The roads could be slippery, maybe, 'cause, like you know, it's frozen, you know?" So I briefly considered doing a commuter rail, but then did some sideways thinking (I don't know what that is either). I drove in to Alewife anyway, and other than the splishy-splashies, the roads were not bad. I tooled around Hahvahd Square a few minutes, got a yodeling pickle for Mark Kagan, and the dinner, including two Pinot Grigii each, happened as scheduled. It was tasty, Gusty got the steamed tofu, and it was an intense conversation. Did I mention the Pinot Grigii? By the time we finished, snow was accumulating on the sidewalks in Cambridge (che stupido). Nonetheless -- the drive back to Maynard was uneventful save for the splishy-splashies, and the car thermometer said it was 2 degrees warmer in Maynard than in Cambridge. Don't all be beaten by that.

And meanwhile, Hannah at BMOP/sound forwarded a Gramophone review of the Winged Contraption CD, which had a lovely pull quote for Marilyn's webpage, and which, ironically, put me into the classification of Composers What Have Arrived (classifications have atrocious grammar nowadays). Since every significant composer I know has, at some point, gotten the "I loved everything about this album except the music" review, and this review is such a review, that puts me into the ... into the ... um, thesaurus? Pantheon? Box? Reviews 4 on this page up was filled, so Reviews 5 now exists, currently holding only said Pantheon review.

Now even though it's been unusually cold for this time of year -- did I mention SNOW? -- we set a local pointless record. October 13 was the day we first turned on the heat. Which is the latest in the season since we've lived in this house.

As to the 4-cello movement. It was clear while I was writing it that it wasn't a free-standing piece -- crap, meaning it needs two other movements of similar dimension -- and that is was a finale and not an opening movement. In the process of entering it into the computer I also started getting the sense that maybe it was closer to sucking than to not sucking. (is "to not sucking" a split infinitive, or something parallel to it?) It's between five and six minutes of frightfully hard fast stuff, but I won't really know until it's all entered whether it's okay as is or whether the rocks it sucks, if it indeed sucks them, are large. Still, though, I'm using the working title of Cello Shots, and see the Cello Shots 3 link up there for how it currently stands. And what it is, too. And also see the "Concord to Lincoln" link for a fascinating, fascinating movie made with my iPod nano of the view out the commuter rail window as the train moves from (you guessed it) Concord to Lincoln.

And last beezy work. I had to write program notes for Mikronomicon. So I did.

Trip to California coming up. Contract for residency in Utah coming soon. And I have to write a speech. Beff gets back Thursday night and has a proper dentist appointment Friday morning, after which she may get Whole Foods stuff for our weekend, since it is close to the dentist. And of course our Friday lunch at the Cast Iron Kitchen is back on.

Today's pictures begin, as they often do, with kitty kuteness -- said firelog box and how the cats have been using it. Then Sunny sees a bird, extreme closeup of blossoms on the catnip plants, various fall-type shots, the 4-cello piece on the piano with a pretty awful transfer to a smaller size, and Gusty along with the Brandeis composition students. Bye.

OCTOBER 31 Breakfast was a whole wheat bagel with cream cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner was grilled chicken with mushrooms and steamed asparagus. Lunch was, at the Cast Iron Kitchen, fried artichokes, arugula salad, and fettuccini Alfredo. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 33.1 and 70.9. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Chicago's "Harry Truman". LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE portable Garmin GPS $159, part II of Bangor roof repair, $3800 oil change at Jeefy Loob $33, Beff's new clarinet bell $300. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY well, maybe Jeefy Loob -- since the oil change Tuesday, when I start the car the "MAINT REQD" light blinks exactly eight times when I start the car up. And K-Mart, for selling me a rake whose two parts had not been joined. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY the gas station near K-Mart -- who sells firewood bundles for two thirds the price anywhere else. PET PEEVE leaves and pine needles that fall onto areas already raked. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I was in two acts for Spring Frolics my junior year of high school. I reported here once that we put together a band to perform Chicago's "Harry Truman" while it was still on the charts -- I played trombone, took the tune off the radio, and did the arrangement, all the while wincing every time Bobby Chevalier, the pianist, played the wrong chord. I also played blues piano (in C, of course) blindfolded, with Bob Choiniere, who also played blues in C, blindfolded. On the program, it was only me listed as the pianist, so it must have been a surprise after the introduction to see two of us. We made it through just fine. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Now the cats love to look out the open window by the pump organ. And yesterday Sunny bounded and leaped all around the back yard, including running up and down trees, as Beff and I raked. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: tilaginous, describing a jelly-like food shaped like a fish but which tastes like tofu. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 4. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE my longest burp was 1974, while drinking Fresca, timed at 19 seconds. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Northeastern winters that return to the late 80s and early 90s. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14, 103. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.57 in Maynard. THE LIST I MADE BUT FORGOT WHY my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

Trains were in the back of the tub when we had to put the elastic bands back on and watch them fly north. It wasn't that our wagons had lost any of their wheels, and neither did we think we had to put goo into the granite headstones that had been interrupted by magic -- but it did make us lose a little bit of time, and the feathers were telling us to get lost. Over in Cheepsterville, everybody was waking the dogs up and taking silly putty to them. But that eventually faded into the internet.

I type this to you, dear reader, on Halloween while Weather Bug on this computer chirps a High Wind Warning at me. Them what make are right this time, as all those nicely raked, bare areas are slowly getting recovered with the just-fallen leaves -- I've been finding out that it is very hard to rake leaves that are still affixed to trees. Nonetheless, we have tons of leaves around us, there are always lots to get rid of, and we have to start earlier than usual this year because we'll lose about 10 raking days to nobody being here. More on that later. First I'm sure you'll want to read all of the tedious prose, soon to follow, about the start of leaf-raking season. And other things.

Last weekend and this one, Beff's time in Maynard has been cut short by various things back in Maine to which she is obligated to show up. In fact, as I type this, three days early, and on a Saturday morning, Beff is already on her way back to Maine, with the cats. Today's obligation: view the pep band (or whatever they call it) at a U Maine football game. Lordy. Meanwhile, this fine windy Halloween day brings me into Brandeis for the first composers concert of the year. I had heard some of the rehearsals while I was in this week, and all sounds good.

So exactly three weeks ago I took out a rake for the first time and raked up some pine needles near our new yard area. I took out a barrel to bring them to our discard area, and that was a half-barrel's worth. Two weeks later minus one, Beff and I started the raking season officially. Luckily for us, the three big maples that line the driveway and the two in the front yard go bare before almost all the other trees around here, so we can start in on those areas and be reasonably finished before moving onto the other many-yarded area. So with several days of raking in tandem, and with me doing some on the non-Brandeis days, we have just about finished the front yard and the side of the driveway, and we have done first passes in the area around the garage. Total so far: 56 barrels. Total raked last year: 116 barrels. Next raking day: November 13. Yow. And by the way -- my back kind of hurts.

Meanwhile, I think I may have reported here that I finished entering a movement of a four-cello piece, and that it may suck, or not. Still no definitive answer on that one, but tuned you should stay. There has not been any new creative attemptingness (see raking, previous paragraph), and I have had to start work on a speech. For you see, on Tuesday I up and drive to the airport in the dark, board a plane in the dark, deboard a plane in the light, board a plane in the light and deboard a plane in the light. Not that there's anything wrong with that. And the last time I deboard I will be in or near Sacramento and looking for the Avis car rental counter. Then on Wednesday I do a colloquium of sorts at UC Berkeley, and on Thursday I give said keynote speech for the Festival of New American Music at Sacramento State, hang out for the gala concert that night, and hang out for Marilyn Nonken's concert the following Monday. Then the next day I board a plane in the dark, etc. The Sacramento trip explains some of why I have purchased a pocket Garmin GPS -- I want to be talked to as I try to find Sam and Laurie's place in Woodland, and CNMAT in Berkeley, and Sacramento State. My cell phone also has GPS, but I've noticed that when the program is running it tends to go brain dead for a minute or two at a time at awkward times. So ...

As to teaching, et al, all is well. In fact, this week verged on the first week that all eight private composition meetings happened, but it was not to be -- the last one simply didn't happen, owing to a sleeping through the alarm thing. And I had a meeting of the Experiential Learning committee to go to (I'm on the Experiential Learning Committee). And we finally dispensed with the stoopid Aldwell-Schachter textbook in Theory 2 and are moving on. We talked about humor, bisociation, humor in music, and specifically Mozart's Musical Joke. Shortly a unit on chorale writing is to happen, and two of those classes will be taught by my colleague Eric Chafe. I like when I can find good peoples to fill in for me.

And when I get back from California, not only will I have to continue the teaching of chorale writing -- I'll also be thrust back into raking, and hopefully with all the raw material off the trees and onto the ground. One tough thing about this year's raking, by the way, is the yard behind the garage. The neighbor's oak tree has been very acorn-fecund this year, and they have to be gathered by hand. They also make the barrel very, very heavy. So there.

And signs of the winter abound here as -- we brought the bikes into the basement, the Adirondack chairs into the shed, the picnic table into the basement, and the chaise lounges from the gazebo into the side porch. My target date for restoring them to the outdoors is March 15, approximately. The hammock is still set up because of today's predicted warm temperatures, but will be basemented tomorrow. Soon you die.

The only other time-consuming thing recently concerns my upcoming sabbatical. One has to plan far ahead for residencies, etc., and I did the application for one which was done mostly online, and involved me soliciting some recommendation letters. But the file size limit for uploads is 7 megs, which means I had to send the musical examples via escargot mail. And I started checking the application deadlines for the usual colony suspects, and that means around January 1 for some of them. Lawdy.

See, now that's all, and kind of a dull update to boot. Hopefully it can be rescued by some nice pictures. Coming up is, of course, California and back. Musica Viva on the 20th. Going to Albany for Thanksgiving. And, of course, raking.

Today's pictures include the big trees in our backyard a week and a half ago, and yesterday. Next, morning and evening shots of Summer Hill (which we see out our front door). Next, Great Road, looking west, in the morning. Next, Cammy trying to keep me from doing my grading. Then, both cats looking out their new favorite window, and Cammy looking from the side porch. Bye.

NOVEMBER 14 Breakfast was bacon, egg and cheese sandwiches, potato pancakes, orange juice, and coffee -- and with Geoffy! Dinner last night was salmon aioli, asparagus, salad, and red wine. Lunch was Shepherd's Pie and fried artichokes at the Cast Iron Kitchen. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 26.2 and 73.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The MIDI of the beginning of the last movement of Mikronomicon. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Car rental in California, $397. Parking at Logan Airport, $192. House gift for SamNLaurie $undisclosed. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Toyota, for making the "MAINT REQD" light come on every 5,000 miles, as has just happened on my Corolla. Dudes -- distinguish between necessary and recommended maintenance, I mean, duh. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Garmin, I guess, which for $159 got me to everywhere I needed to get when in California -- 'ceptin' it didn't have Arch Street in Berkeley in its database. And Pyramid Brewery in Berkeleyness, for the lovely wings. PET PEEVE SUVs that park in spots marked "COMPACT" POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I lived in the NEC dormitory my freshman year of college, and it was a strange place. People rehearsing stuff in their rooms, violists getting high and walking around with frozen shit-eating grins, people practicing in the hallways, etc. My "fanfare for Christmas" for brass septet which I'd done in high school but was never performed, got an airing in the cafeteria (Deck the Halls in parallel major triads is, in retrospect, not as funny as it was then). And now the story can be told (statute of limitations). On a very cold, icy day, a small window in the bathroom was iced and it would not close. I kicked it trying to close it, and it shattered. Whistling did I, and left. Later, someone who saw it said it was obvious by the debris patterns that someone threw something at it from outside. Whistling did I. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They're back from Maine, and occasionally strangely vocal. Still sleeping at the foot of the bed. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: schifaginox, a gelatinous compound used to slow down the speed of electrical impulses. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 6. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I no longer own any striped socks. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Funk is a five-letter word. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14, 148. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.97 in California, $2.94 in California, $2.53 in Maynard. THERE'S NO GOLD IN THEM THAR HILLS my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

I write this to you on a another dreary Saturday morning -- the Day of Rain, as we are calling it, until we stop calling it that. Rather than splaining right here, I will sum up: I went to California and came back. The cats came back. Things back to the median. And Geoffy is here for most of the next week, except for when he's not.

After that last so-called update, raking did I, and much so, too. Since I was getting as much done before The Trip as I possibly could. Things went as expected at the 'Deis on Monday, at which time I introduced the concepts of chorale harmonization (despite insisting that the original chorale tune is immutable, I predict at least 4 instances in which students change the notes to match their dastardly harmonic schemes -- plus, I predict several instances where harmonizations plow right through the fermatas ... for you see, I have done, before, this). Getting back after class was key, since, well, you know, I had my alarm set for 3 am in order to be plenty on time for my departing-at-6 flight.

And so. As is almost always the case, I was up before off went the alarm. All was uneventful, I got into the car and drove airportwards, only to find a confusing sign about exiting at Copley Square. Crappoliciously, part of the Mass Pike had been closed for ... for something ... and there was a confusing, mediocrely marked detour down Stuart Street, et al, with a plethora of options for reentering the highway when the time came. I chose one, not understanding my fate, and it happened to be the right one. 4 in the morning is not a good time for driving anxiety, but what choice was there?

The aiport experiences and the flights were nonevents, mostly. In the second flight -- Chicago to Sacramento -- unexplainable, the pilot came on and said, "people on the left of the plane..." (I was on the right) "... that's Denver below us, and that means just an hour or an hour and a half to Sacramento". Which, when I looked at my watch, seemed that we would be an hour to an hour and a half early. Turns out the pilot wasn't correct. We were exactly on time. Got my luggage I did, got my rental car I did, and drive to Sam and Laurie's I did, in record time. My new Garmin did a good job getting me there (though it left out the "turn left" off the exit, but I got it), Laurie was home and composing, Sam was at work, and two black cats were there to be cats. Sam shortly took me to lunch (I paid, but he drove) at In-N-Out nearby, which was pretty good fast food, made to order. Sam got the Animal Fries, or maybe it was Monster Fries, I don't recall. Sort of like an Ultimate Nacho, except with fries. I declared it edible, and ate it. It was also 80 degrees out, and that ain't Celsius, baby.

The next day was Wednesday, by virtue of the calendar. For this day I was to colloquialize at Berkeley, which had been set up by Ken. He had never told me a time, but it was online as 3-5. Which turned out to be the time of a music department faculty meeting. So it got recast as 5:15. And I drove to Berkeley (one hour, approximately), though a bunch of American Recovery and Reinvestment Act stuff on University Ave that added at least 15 minutes to the trip (to cover about a mile), and after voluminous circling in the neighborhood, I found parking. Then found parking again, later, right in front of CNMAT, a building where tech stuff happens. As well as my colloquiage. Ken drove up in the 4:50 dusk and tried to set up playback and ... given that the building generates the forefront of sound technology ... was amused that the first setup for playback produced massive distortion. More things involving wires and boxes and plugs happened, and I was able to play my stuff without worry, and soon I was done. The group then headed to Jupiter -- not the planet (I wish), just the pizza joint. Where I had a red beer and a red pizza. And drove back to Sam n Laurie's, where at 10:30 they were still up. Kids, you know.

Thursday was Keynote Speech Day, and I arranged meeting with Steve Blumberg, who directs the Festival of New American Music, which is the event at which I keynoted speeched -- and the Garmin helped get me there, I parked in faculty parking, and got ready for a speech. Several classes were brought in for this event, as well as locals, and what I presumed were faculty. I got introduced by Steve, yet more people poured in, and I read my speech. Which was 20 minutes, and then opened up the floor to questions. Plenty of which I got, and in the end, I can reasonably say ... I totally killed. After the speech, Steve took me and Asha Srinivasan, a visiting composer from Wisconsin, to lunch. I had a panini, because there is no such thing as a panini no-no. Then I went back to Woodland (Sam and Laurie) and then back to the festival for the gala concert ... at 6:30, Marilyn Nonken was doing her dress rehearsal, and I made movies of the two tood she was doing on the gala concert for UToob (see green links on left). Marilyn sounded great as usual.

And the gala itself was broadcast live on local NPR, with an emcee from the station and the format was ... talk to composer, play some music, repeat. I was first. Asha, and Andy Rindfleisch, and Rich Festinger were other composers on the docket, and all went according to plan. The other acts on the concert were a fl/cl duo and the Meridian Arts Ensemble, who sounded fantastic, especially in this totally bitchin David Sanford piece. When the concert was over, I was totally ready to go to the bathroom. And drive back to Woodside. So I did.

Friday morning I played and talked about Stolen Moments for a composer thing back at the festival, and then I drove to Berkeley for a day and night with His Rossness. The Garmin got me there splendiferously, and we went to the Pyramid Brewery -- in the rain! -- for lunch and let his two lovely dogs off at a local park for exercise on the way back. Then there was computer play, Ross went to a rehearsal of a piece of his while I formatted the two videos for UToob and uploaded them, and we went Italian for dinner. Then more computer play, and to bed. Separately. The next day there was a long hike with the dogs in Tilden Park (from which we could see the Bay), and back I went to Woodland. For you see, Noche Cerveza dell'Ouest was to happen there, and Ken made it all happen, as usual. Ken brought sausages for dinner, and we went to Food4Less for firewood and ice, had our sausages, and indulged ourselves with beerness. The Meridian Arts guys, Ross, and even Ed E.J. Cubs came over, and boy, there ain't no stoppin' us now! So there.

Sunday Laurie had to go to concerts for performances of a big piece she tossed together quickly, so I took Sam and Annabel to lunch in Davis. Then there was nap time. Then there wasn't. And there was an Empyrean Ensemble concert with pieces by Ross and Eddie to hear that very night. That very night. That very, very night. They were great. And so we drove back to Woodland. Again.

Monday was the night of Marilyn's concert. So in the interval before, there was time to movieize the other two toods Marilyn was doing (see green links on left), and I did. There was a pre-concert thing with Steve Blumberg, Elizabeth Hoffman, Rich Festinger and me, and that was short and slightly tart, and then there was the concert. All went fantastically, and Marilyn ended with a Drew Baker piece that used only the extremes of the piano and eighth notes for a long time, got louder, and louder, and ended. And I liked it! Then back I came, went to sleep, woke up at 3:45 am for my 6:21 plane, drove to Avis, took my flights, paid for parking, and drove home in the twinking of an eye before the beginning of rush hour. And the house was both as and where I left it.

Meanwhile, I had caught the cold that was going around the SamNLaurie household, and it has grown in stature within my body since my return. Wednesday was a normal teaching day, and even with the help of lozenge-like things, making it all the way through the teaching day turned out to be nothing short of miraculous. Nonetheless, the raking beckoned. For you see, Beff's help was available this weekend but not next, so getting as much done as possible was much to have been being desired. So before the sun set -- which was not much time after my re-arrival -- I finished up the two side yards. Which was quite a lot, actually. Thursday morning before I set off for school -- and at 7:45, it turns out -- I cleaned up the front and back yards, and the area to the side of the garage. And went in to teach and for Rand Steiger's colloquium -- which it turns out, was FANTASTIC. And that night, Beff was back with the cats, and Geoffy got in late. All is as it should be.

So yesterday morning Beff and I spent cleaning up the back behind the shed and the "L" part of the yard. And right now the season raking total stands at 94 barrels. After today's storm, all that will be left is the oak tree detritus behind the garage, and that will be maybe 10 or 15 barrels. And, sigh, another raking year will have a-passed. Stay tuned here for the final totals. After the raking was lunch at the Cast Iron Kitchen, as usual for a Friday, a trip to Trader Joe's, and a long fire in the fireplace. For you see, Beff got a cold, too, but for once not from me (or mine from her). Fire good. I made salmon. Fire good.

And soon after this update is posted I am to be phone-interviewed for something or other in Classical Notes in Friday's Globe. Apparently a microconcerto world premiere AND an etudes CD release is overwhelming. Or something.

And so what's coming up. Mikronomicon is next Friday, at Tsai. The Marine Band is recording Cantina next week, and I have been made privy to some online rehearsal recordings. All is totally bitchin. This morning Geoffy played through some Mikronomicon licks -- it is a concerto just for him, dontcha know -- and they sounded amaziferouslitudinousness. On a good piano, even better. And then there's the melodica. Woo hoo! Geoff learned how to play the melodica, which is good, because he has to in my piece.

Tomorrow Beff leaves early for Maine, and I may do some raking. Otherwise, much grading to do. Monday, photo for Globe. Thursday, rehearsal. Friday, concert. More Marine Band rehearsals to listen to. Life is ... actually, just slightly complicated. But then ... there is Thanksgiving, which we are doing in Albany. Big sigh. Oh yeah -- Tuesday to Toyota for RECOMMENDED required maintenance, eye appointment, and much grading. Wednesday, the Chopin 2nd Sonata slow movement and something about rhythm in Theory.

And so, to the rest of the week. Today's pix include Sam and Laurie's treehouse, the view of the Golden Gate from Tilden Park, Ross's trampoline, Ross's dog June, Ross, and moi. Bye.

NOVEMBER 28 Breakfast was leftover apple pie, lemon-limeade, and coffee. Dinner was Margherita pizza. Lunch was a salad with balsamic vinaigrette dressing. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 27.0 and 66.6. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Finale of Tchaikovsky 6th. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST Cat watering device with accoutrements, $78; two bottles of Rosso di Montalcino, $85; one bottle of Brunello, $42; routine service at Toyota $128, new Art Nouveau chair $185. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Jiffy Lube -- who jammed the oil filter into the housing such that the housing had to be destroyed and replaced to change the oil. Extra cost to me: $51. Amount of business Jiffy Lube gets from me from now until I die: $0. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Acton Toyota of Littleton (yes, it's really called that) for the free wi-fi and breakfast, during which I was able to get four letters of rec out during what would otherwise have been wasted time. PET PEEVE online recommendation systems that require an uploaded file rather than entered text that then tell you your uploaded file has exceeded the file size limit. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: During the couple of years that Beff and Martler and I were housemates in grad school, Beff was our sole representative at a particular grad seminar. Here I step back for a moment and let the reader(s) know that our time at Princeton was still during its groovy era, during which there were no grades and no required classes. I.e., zero classes was a full load, and so was three. So Martler and I tooled away at home (despite our lack of tools), and late in the afternoon when Beff got back from the seminar, she sighed, "I just can't get any empathy for my point of view." To which I replied, "I know exactly how you feel." Rim shots lined the cosmos. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy occasionally does the teeny meow thing, and Sunny stays on the bed in the morning no matter what. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Sackajawah, a sedimentary mineral formed from combinations of granite, talc and calcite, which was inexplicably usurped for background vocals in the disco era. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 14. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I can perform all of Jesus Christ Superstar from memory (which works best as a duo with Hayes). WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Major sevenths and minor ninths are truly yummy. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14, 180. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.63 in Waltham, $2.95 in Colonie, New York. RANDOM MUSINGS OF AN OBSTETRICIAN my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

Tessitura and apples became intextricably intertwined in the other dimension where we were swimming. Of course, that doesn't mean we started barking -- on the contrary, fourteen is the loneliest number (except after e). If we hadn't refrigerated so snugly, it's clear the troopers and troupers could have homonymed their way out of the balloon, but when the ladybugs heard about it, I couldn't see the Trafalgar Square replicas. No bother -- I couldn't have smoked a flashlight anyway.

The last update came on a dreary Saturday, and this one comes on an equally dreary one, though windy instead of rainy, and as a result, there's a whole mess o' pine cones scattered about in the back yard that we'll have to pick up soon. I hate it when that happens. Almost as much as you, dear reader, hate to read about it happening. I'll try to be better, or maybe I won't.

As reader(s) know, the weather in California transmogrified from mid-August to November while I was there, so I was well-prepared for east coast weather upon my re-entry, since they were having some there, and then here. And when I got back to the teaching thing, well, there it was. A last gasp of chorale writing was followed by the Chopin funeral march thing (the B-flat minor music never gets a dominant, and I called the quarter rest between a D-flat cadence and the non-dominanted resumption of the B-flat minor music analagous to a blank tile in Scrabble. I could have been wrong) and half a class worth of stuff about advanced rhythm things in Western music. That half class turned out to be far too short, so return to that topic I will this Monday, and speaking in the passive voice will be done by me. Although sometimes you have to refer to yourself in second person singular. The next topic was the Waldstein sonata, a very dominant topic indeed, if knowing what I mean is done by you.

And, and, and ... only three days of classes left in the term! Though, more for me because of makeup lessons owing to my trip to California. Yes, even though the term ends on December 2, I will be teaching lessons as late as December 12. Which, if you are clever, you can discover is a Saturday. Am I dedicated, or what? Do I ask too many rhetorical questions? (second person) Are you dedicated, or what? Do you ask too many rhetorical questions?

As to other un-school mundane things, just a few obsessive rake-a-mundos to take care of other small bits of leafiness here and there -- as well as the future cone-a-thon already mentioned. Beff's time here last weekend was short owing to her need to return for a student's recital on Saturday afternoon. So this weekend, which is in the process of being Thanksgiving weekend, she is here for the long haul, part of which we spent in a long hall. Today's tasks? Grading for me, grading for Beff, and perhaps a bit of a nice walk.

And, then, but ... Geoffy was around for a significant portion of this last reporting period, since he was doing Musica Viva. As usual, this meant never having to wash the dishes (unless you were Geoffy), and a nice Cast Iron Kitchen meal, Geoffy's treat. It also meant tons of practice time at Brandeis, since not only was Geoffy doing this gig, but also preparing for a Bauhaus show with She That Is Maria at the MoMA, coming up real soon now. On the weekend, we made a little video of Geoffy going through the opening of the finale of my piece that was written for him, on the keyboard in the guest room, and at other times we didn't. My only role in this entire undertaking -- and of course I had a role because, hey, I had a premiere and stuff -- was to hear a rehearsal on Thursday morning (don't get me started on how I had to rearrange my teaching to do that -- okay, get me started) and make a brief microphoned statement at the actual gig. So I followed Geoffy to the rehearsal venue -- a big church on Beacon Street in Brookline -- with my Garmin as backup, did Starbucks, and listened in. I made various little comments, enjoyed immensely the sound of the melodicas in the Pierrot ensemble (Geoffy AND Bob), and noted to self how strange and brittle the piano sounded when it reentered after the dueling melodicas. Indeed, to myself I said, "how strange and brittle is that piano sound after hearing the dueling melodicas." The inner me is very literal. Then I drove back to Brandeis to resume my many-altered schedule, and the route took me through my old neighborhood from 1985-88. The four lost years! Okay, not lost. More like unpointful.

On the day of the show, there was a featurette on me, Mikronomicon (the name of said BMV piece), and Toods 3 in the Globe, and the online version is linked via the blue link to the left. I got some paper copies, and declined to go to the dress rehearsal ("I decline to go to the dress rehearsal," I was heard saying, or maybe I was just thinking it). I did the customary lunch, Beffless though, at Cast Iron Kitchen, and told the Door and Window people they could see me in that day's Globe, as well as the wait staff at the Cast Iron Kitchen, and they though I was what they call "shitting" them. Yes, it sounded even more implausible when I brought up that it was in the "g" section, since they though I was making a joke. Not as big as the joke that the "g" section has been since its inception, however. Did I mention that we terminated our Globe delivery some while ago? The existence of the "g" section was on the list of why. But I seem to have digressed (second person) but you seem to have digressed. Incidentally, (second person) you got the artichoke hearts and steak sandwich for lunch, and saved half the artichoke hearts for Beff because (third person plural) they were getting back mid-afternoon, specifically to see Geoffy play the melodica fast and loud.

Geoffy, meanwhile, apparently had a mild-to-medium case of food poisoning that day, ostensibly from the calamari he'd had the night before. Amazingly, he was fine and peppy when he got back for his 3:30 nap, and (third person plural) all of them went with Geoffy in his car to the gig -- where, amazingly, and (second person) you never knew this, there is plenty of onstreet parking in the bowels of the BU neighborhood. We got a little dinner, and I had a 6:45 interview with a visiting British journalist named Igor Hyphenated-Name (underlying point: you Americans can have fun in music and we Brits can't) -- he quoted a number of British composers of whom I had not heard, so I dropped some names of British composers of whom I have heard, of whom (second person) you haven't heard. Then it was on to John Harbison for him, and to Beff for me. And on our walks back and forth down those long halls near the Tsai Performance Center, Beff pointed to where she once worked. I was interested because it turns out it was a) during the unpointful years just mentioned and b) I had recommended her for that job. Or (second person and first person plural) you had recommended us for that job.

Then was the gig itself. Groovy Schwantner with wine glasses and just one chord, groovy Davy, intermission. Chris Arrell Narcissus piece with one chord, Ives songs arranged. Really cool Bernard Hoffer piece for encore, which had me a-hummin' the tunes. Lots of really old people said they liked my piece, many of whom mentioned the two-note ostinato in the slow movement, or my description of it and its quantity (99 of 'em) during microphone time. Indeed, Derek J mentioned that the ostinato's first manifestation (piano and vibes in double octaves) sounded like a Fender Rhodes. Why, I never (third person plural) why, they never. Then we came home.

The next morning I made Denny's grand slam breakfasts for us all, using Trader Joe's frozen pancakes (woo hoo!) and Beff took a photo for her Facebook page. Then off went Beff, off went Geoffy, and out came the grading. Everything else was just a light. Trips were made to good wine stores for good wine, and I also managed a fiver of Bitter Lemon -- very hard to find anywhere, but they have it at the old fashioned market in West Concord -- which means I now can make proper Butler specials. And they have unlimited varieties of vastly overpriced Rosso di Montalcino across the street. So we planned to vastly overdrink some.

On a parallel reality track that week was Mike and the Marines doing a proper studio recording of Cantina. I got access to their online mp3s so I could follow along and ask questions, and by Friday there were rough edits of all four movements with which to play, and to play way too loud on headphones, plenty of which was done by me. I now actually like the piece, whereas in the previous go-round I was rather ambivalent about it. They played the drummy stuff in the finale SO fast that it literally sounds impossible. And the scary bass clarinet solo sounded fambolous -- which is only appropriate, since it was being played by the movement's dedicatee. As far as I can tell, there is no official release for this recording, but it's a good thing to have and to hold. I mean, okay. It's hot. So the recording of this piece means I have officially (on the third try) learned how to write for band. Putting "writing for band" and especially "wanting to write for band" in my rear-view mirror (third person plural) in their rear-view mirror.

So this week involved Thanksgiving plans, and so it did. Beff had to work till eight on Tuesday night and STILL had to write a memo (for you see, (first person plural) we are Chair). Thus she left Wednesday morning. I, meanwhile, did my Wednesday morning teaching at the 'Deis, and got back about 45 seconds after Beff -- who had stopped in Maynard to pick up our T'giving apple pie, which I'd ordered 'n' paid fer a week earlier. Quickly we got the stuff together and were off Albanywards at 12:30. In the (sigh) drizzle and rain. Massive traffic slowups (or slowdowns, ironically with the same meaning) around Worcester, but we made it, and made it we did. Yep, looks like we made it. Wozzeck we made it. I am stalling here. Final destination: Latham, New York, Beff's sister's house, and her son Jack, a junior in high school was present.

Dinner was had, beer was had, and videos were watched. Sleeping was done, and totally passive it was. I had noticed a cat watering device with a little waterfall in it, which reminded me of how much OUR cats like to wait around in the bathtub for the occasional drips from the oldstyle faucet. So I found it online and ordered it! Woo hoo! And on Thanksgiving Day proper, a walk in the neighborhood was had, cooking and eating were done, and more videos were watched, except by me. Bonding was done with Grim, the black and white cat. And then sleeping was done. Again!

Meanwhile, Ann has some nice Arts and Crafts style stuff in her house which is very nice for the design. She had brought up that she had gotten a bunch of it at a salvage place in the warehouse district of Albany, and she and Beff planned a Friday morning trip there. And it was ironic thing to think -- oh, the salvage place. What a chick thing! But I came along for the ride. And there, in addition to bonding with the dog and cat attached to the place, I got some garlic and spicy pickles, pickled tomatoes, and Beff got a necklace and a nice Art Nouveau style chair for $185. This was followed by a chick walk in a funky nearby neighborhood and a return, and drive back to Maynard -- in the rain, of course, and VERY briefly in a bit of mixed precipitation. Music by Fiona Apple.

Back we got, unpack we did, feed the cats we did, and we watched a Julia Roberts movie in front of a not-so-roaring fire we did.

Upcoming: end of the semester! More grading! Writing of music! Including a brief piano trio movement on a hymn tune! Cataloguing the desperate expressions of students asking for extensions! And shopping.

This week's photos begin with me 'n' Geoffy (second person: you 'n' Geoffy) reading through the dueling melodicas part of Mikronomicon under the watchful camera eye of Beff -- then, Geoff airing out the melodica at the BMV rehearsal to which I went. Next, our nicely raked back yard, with local dog; Beff's grand slam breakfast, with computer; two obligatory Thanksgiving Day meal pictures. And the new Art Nouveau chair in its new context, contextualized with and without Sunny. Bye.

DECEMBER 13 Breakfast was grapefruit, potato pancakes, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was tomato sandwiches and roasted asparagus from Whole Foods. Dinner last night was salad and Buffalo wings at Sadie's in Waltham. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 15.8 and 66.6. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Flutude #1, "Ram Tough". LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Two small Ionizers (room air fresheners) $198. Christmas tree $35. Pizza for Theory 2 class $63. Parking in NYC for Beff $45 for 4 hours. Down payment to Maynard Door and Window for six replacement storm windows, $510. Second half of chimney rebuild in Bangor, $600. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY K-Mart, for enormous computer glitches that forced me to stand at the counter holding a whole mess o' stuff for a long time. And Fanfare Magazine, for offering to do a published interview with me if I took out an expensive ad. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Staples dot com and amazon, for very quick turnaround after we made orders. Also Sadie's in Waltham for large portions at low prices -- though I must add that the quality of the Buffalo wings is so-so. PET PEEVE people who go right on red in full view of the NO TURN ON RED sign. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In eighth grade I got one of those President's Physical Fitness patches, even though in the large litany of stuff you have to do for one of those I was deficient in pull-ups. I ran the 50-yard dash in 6.2 seconds, and the standing broadjump was 8' 5-1/2". That last number exceeded everyone in my class by at least two feet. It also exceeded my standing broadjump in ninth grade by about two feet, since I was doing it in old, slippery sneakers. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy has gotten to the sleeping near my head thing that usually goes on in the winter, and Sunny is as needy as ever. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances, Compositions, Home. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sengloit, a vestigial organ in the throat not discovered until the 15th century, after which point it mysteriously disappeared. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 11. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE In Kindergarten I could read at a fifth grade level but flunked a color test because I was never taught the names of colors. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Bankers don't get bonuses but bone us's PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14, 235. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.57 in Maynard. LET'S CALL THE WHOLE THING OOF my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

Dear reader, I type as I usually do while it is dreary and dank outside -- a condition commonly known as "December". Since the last update, we have had the first Arctic outbreak and the first two accumulating snowfalls -- the second of which --ding! -- put us in debt to Maynard Door and Window for snow plowing. And them what make have been up to their usual tricks. But let he who is me backtrack a bit.

He who is me is really he who is I, because I know a thing or two about the predicate nominative. Classes ended exactly when they were supposed to, and I finished up my rhythm lecture, said a few things about the Agnus Dei from the B minor mass, and bought $63 worth of pizza for the class to have on the last day, at which time we also took some swings at the Aldwell/Schachter textbook outside with my axe (the comical part there was having to open the book to "the chapter where he calls the same chord FOUR DIFFERENT THINGS!"). Yes, we were in agreement that, as an undergraduate theory textbook, the Aldwell/Schachter is, on a scale of 0 to 10 where 0 is pretty good and 10 is the worst ever, a 12. And then they had a week to write a final paper of a length of 3 to 10,000 pages. Naturally, several of the class apparently listen to classic Beatles songs, particularly "Eight Days a Week" and interpreted it literally.

I also went in for makeup composition lessons, thus extending my part of the teaching semester by a week. And when it came time for grading, the time necessary was legion: final Waldstein analyses took a full afternoon and evening to grade, while the final papers took two evenings and a full morning. For you see, this year's class is three-halves the size of last year's, and I should thus have assigned two-thirds of the work (it's called a reciprocal, and anyone can have one).

There were several bouts of very windy weather, and the pine trees have been very cone-fecund this year. I had reported that this year the leaf rakage was over and the barrel amount frozen at 104. But then, TWO windstorms blew a buttload of pine cones into the yards, and after the first storm Beff collected five shopping bags of them for the fireplace and I raked up two whole barrels worth for discard. Later there was another windstorm and a barrel and a half to collect and discard. Give the bagged cones credit as a barrel, and the grand total for the year is now at 108 and a half -- with another buttload recently fallen and STILL MORE to come down. I hate it when that happens. And when that happens, I hate it (speaking of reciprocals).

In the midst of all that kinda stuff, Beff did two normally-lengthed weekends in Maynard, and I did both of my usual Friday lunches at the Cast Iron Kitchen. Beff, of course, had her own grading to do, as well as a bunch of scores to produce, so we kept quite busy, being interrupted mostly by our usual walks -- over and around the Assabet, etc., and this morning to the new Walgreen's in Maynard and back (had to get soap, fiber supplement, and wrapping paper). Speaking of which, Beff's other large task in this period was assembling the yearly Christmas boxes for my relatives, sealing them, and sending them off via UPS from Staples. Beff likes going to Staples for such things because it means she can stock up on handy dandy quick lunches for the office.

But this most recent Friday I was alone at the Cast Iron Kitchen for lunch because Beff was doing her twice-yearly drive to New York City for an ACA meeting, which she does because she is on the "Board". This gets her going at 8 and returning at 10, and when she talks about what happened in said "Board" meeting, I think about jell-o and pretend I'm not bored out of my mind. Well, one of those things, anyway. There are random buttons inside my head that cause me to say "Mmm hmm" or "Oh" or "Really?" or "Huh", and I seem to be able to press them randomly -- when there are pauses in Beff's "Board" stories -- to disguise the fact that I'm really just thinking about jell-o.

As to the weather, our first proper storm was punted severely by Them What Make, who waffled between zero snow and 4-6 inches of snow, and as the snow started firmly put our area in a swath of 5" predicted. Actual result: less than an inch. How did I remove the offending snow? With a broom. Since that storm was on a weekend, not much of my required driving was affected by the inclemency. Meanwhile, Wednesday, my last day of makeup teaching, the more substantial storm came through, and if I had not gone to California I would have not had to go in to do makeup lessons, and ... well, it was so icky in the morning that I drove to South Acton station, on the way getting stuck behind a car with awful tires that didn't seem to be able to go more than 3 miles an hour, which I finally drove around, and took the commuter rail toand from Brandeis. Of course the precip changed to rain around 11 am, which means that when I got back, there was very wet heavy stuff with which to deal -- and about five inches of snow to brush off my car. Then my driveway was poorly plowed -- very narrow, not even wide enough to get two cars into the two-car garage -- and I found out that a substitute plow guy had done the driveway, and someone else had to come back to do the proper plowing. And I shoveled both walks of that really heavy snow, even though I pay to have that done. So there.

In the meantime, sort of out of the blue, Mary Fukushima (whose website is the domain ) sent the recordings of her October premiere of my two flutudes from October 2008 (composed in that white heat during a 12-day teaching hiatus offered by the Jewish holidays that year), and not only was the recording of a very high quality, the performance itself was smokin'. I mean, really, off the charts hot (who knew beatboxing was so cool?). And the pieces, which I had completely forgotten, were pretty good, too. So immediately it occurred to me that I had to write more. On Tuesday I wrote down a few notes on a piece of ... gee, I hadn't used it in so long I forgot what it was called ... "manuscript paper" ... for a flute etude on harmonics and arpeggios, taking off on a few licks in both flutudes. And yesterday -- I finished flutude #3! Beff and I made the usual stabs at punny titles, and the winner, such as it is, was "Harm's Way". This way each flutude has a two-word title. Am I going to write a fourth one? Dunno yet. Meanwhile, dear reader, you can witness Mary's a-smokin' performances with the yellow links on the left and see the new flutude at the green link. And you can even relive classic times by watching my condensed instructional video with Mary demonstrating some of the special effects I was supposed to be using, at the white "Flute demos" link therein. So there. That movie was made in June 2008, and what it is, too.

Lurching way back in time -- the Drinkwell pet fountain of which I wrote in the last update (a little cascade of drinking water for the cats) arrived at the beginning of this reporting period, and it was easy to put together and get going. This also involved reconfiguring the cat feeding area from a funny blue all-in-one contraption to a Drinkwell and a separate bowl for dry food. And guess what? That's what I did! And at Beff's urging, I took Flip videos of both cats encountering the device for the first time. You, dear reader, can witness those videos by clicking on the light gray "Cammy" and "Sunny" links to the left. Yes, you can!

Yesterday (the day before today, but after Friday, which was the day that Beff spent fourteen hours of her day for an ACA "Board" meeting and jell-o thoughts for me) was a sparklingly busy day. Not only did I finish my flutude in the morning and start the Finale-ing at that time, but we also went to the parking lot at Shaw's to get our yearly Christmas tree -- we got a smallish one this year -- and gave a guy 35 bucks, drove it back, set it up, watered it, and Beff did the decorating. I like how shiny it is when the lights are lit. And not only did we do that -- we then had to go to Brandeis because I was doing one last makeup lesson, and while we were going in we thought we'd try out Sadie's Bar and Grill and Waltham, which had been recommended to us as a good place for Buffalo wings. The portions were huge for the price, and the wings were -- okay. Somewhere between mediocre and good. I could talk about the peppery aftertaste that lingers on the tongue, which I liked, but I won't. Because I am thinking about jell-o. Then was the lesson and the concert and we came back. The concert was pretty good, by the way.

So there is still a bit of Theory 2 grading to do (I like to procrastinate, when I can get around to it, and that reminds me to develop a joke some time with a line in it similar to "Why has it taken you so long to start procrastinating?", but given the funny quotient maybe I won't), and pieces to write. Next up, I think, is a piano trio thing taking off on a hymn -- Beff has this commission, too -- and I chose a couple of hymns in Spanish as my taking off point. Also there is this four cello monstrosity, maybe a piano etude, and maybe some work on a Sondheim project whose details I don't have fully yet. I have plenty to keep me busy the next five weeks. And by the way, number of hours until my sabbatical just fell below 3500.

Last Monday, by the way, ended on a high note. After three hours of makeup lessons in the morning and an afternoon spent on a panel awarding grants for the Festival of the Arts, I got to be in the Provost's office along with UV, the Dean, and a vice president for a surprise do wherein Eric Chasalow was awarded the Irving G. Fine Chair in Music. Which means he is now the Irving G. Fine Professor. UV and I milked the occasion for all the wine it was worth, and we made Eric tell stories. Eric tells good stories.

And for the sake of mathematical completeness. On Thursday I went to the dentist.

Coming up: no driving to speak of. Dinner with the Chafes at the Cast Iron Kitchen. The pieces to write mentioned above. Christmas in Maynard with all of Beff's family. And eating, drinking, and going to the bathroom. Next update: year-end roundup!

This week's pictures begin with a view of pineconeness in the non-snowy version of the yard, followed by a grand slam breakfast I made for Beff on the Sunday after Thanksgiving. Geoff and I got identical ones. Next is the Schroeder bobblehead in my office with some accoutrements. Then, SNOW! pictures. The first is the back yard in two-tone mode, since in light storms it doesn't accumulate in a small portion of yard. Next is the morning shot just after sunrise, trees seen from the front porch, and on the Assabet. The final shot is a closeup of part of the sketch for Harm's Way. Bye.

DECEMBER 26 Breakfast was potato pancakes, fake bacon, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was Trader Joe's French Onion Soup. Dinner last night was pork roast, cherry compote, soup, mushrooms, white wine, white wine, white wine, and red wine. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 7.9 and 41.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Stairway to Heaven. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Various charitable donations totalling $1000, new storm windows $1014, $28 for a new windowshade, shopping at Whole Foods $massive. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY none. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY The Cast Iron Kitchen for the lunches and dinners (tonight, too!), and the 5&10 in West Concord. PET PEEVE cars in parking spaces that don't stay between the lines. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My Four Lost Years began right after my four year stint at Princeton was up, and for the first year I took temp jobs in the area -- both of them at Educational Testing Service. I did about 4 weeks full-time at TOEFL, took a week off, and then got sent to the Test Center Administration of ETS for my second stint; they hired me away from the temp place at a steep cost, or so they said. I spent the days typing letters to people who were were getting someone to administer their standardized tests at remote places where no testing was otherwise available. It was less boring than it sounds, and I also occasionally used the Telex machine (oooh!). Best/worst pun I came up with while there -- a supervisor came to a nearby typing table to use the typewriter and asked, "doesn't this table have wings?"I answered, "Sometimes when I'm typing, the phone wings." Career note: during this first lost year: premiere of "Slange", which was to be my first published piece. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Silent meows from Cammy when he is sleepy, and Sunny still visiting the little catnip patch near the gazebo. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances, Compositions. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: Vrimskglot, the pattern formed on the inside of your mouth by your saliva just before you drool. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 6. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE The rage for distressed typewriter fonts in advertising in the mid 90s is largely my fault. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Sunny weekends. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14, 290. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.57 in Maynard. THE POSTMAN ONLY RANG ONCE my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

As is usual for this part of this space, I am able to give you reportage that it is dreary outside, as this part of the country is brushed by the second "massive storm" in the last two weeks. For those of you with slide rules, that's an average of one massive storm per week. More on that later. No, wait. More on that now. Them What Make were up to they's old tricks for *last* weekend. That first Massive Storm had been forecast to pass to our east, thus giving us at most a dusting, though Cape Cod was supposed to get a foot or two of snow. About 48 hours before the storm's passing, we still had "snow showers" forecast for the weekend. Then suddenly -- Them What Make only do such things suddenly -- there was a Winter Storm Warning. And what we got was about 8 inches of very powdery and light stuff. Granted, in New England in February, 8 inches is a dusting (I can go elsewhere with that joke, but I won't), but before Christmas it has the stuff of calamity. Or clamato, I forget which. So our plow guys came and plowed us, and I shoveled the flat roof over the side porch, because it is what you do when you have a lot of snow on a flat roof and rain is predicted for later in the week. By the way -- today is later in the week, and it is raining. The freezing rain Them What Make warned of for this second massive storm (passing well to our west) -- well, of course it didn't happen.

I waited until the last possible minute to record my grades online -- which was the 22nd -- after which there was the relief of a burden. That burden being the posting of my grades. This year's Theory 2 crop averages a bit better than last year's, but that's just because I'm older, and worth it. Meanwhile, as all we who read this space knew, I had finished a third flutude, whose link is still posted below. After that, it was to the second vacation piece on tap, which is a weird commission if ever there was one. It was Phoenix Concerts, for a 3- to 4-minute piano trio, for a hymn-themed concert in which all the new pieces take off on existing hymns (I like saying that because I can say "off" and "on" consecutively -- I wonder how many more ways there are to do that -- as well as also to use words that end "mn"). Beth has this commission, too. We were sent copies of possible hymns to use, and Beff chose one from "The Church Triumphant" section of the hymnal. I chose two that were in Spanish. I started before Beff and therefore finished before Beff, and I chose the formal scheme "fantasy" -- i.e. whatever the hell I wanna do whenever the hell I feel like it. I finished my piece, made scores and parts and sent them off on Tuesday of this week, and Beff finished hers on Wednesday. My title has Lennonesqueness to it -- Double Fantasy. Because, you see, I did whatever the hell I wanted to whenever the hell I felt like it, thus giving the piece fantasyesqueness, and it's based on two hymns, and ... well, dear reader, you fill in the rest. See green "Double Fantasy" link and the red link below it for the source hymns.

And so what's up next? A weirder commission yet. Another brief piece, 3-5 minutes, this one for full orchestra (with piano!), for a kid's concert in May in which I write my music but hide quotes from Beethoven's Fifth inside. Je ne te merde pas. The concept of the whole concert is a bit complicated to go into, but they *are* doing a movement of "Stolen Moments", which will be an example of "a style", of which there will be several on the concert. And the audience will be asked to guess which composer could have written -- the piece I am about to start. My initial idea, given the premise, was to write a Stolen Moments II (This Time It's Personal), and that is cute, because then I would be responding to responding to jazz. And maybe I will, maybe I won't. I'm going to start work on it on Monday, but as of this typing I only have very vague musical ideas. Especially since -- how do you shop around a 5 minute orchestra piece? So, the current rattling in my brain is that it will be something like an "essay for orchestra" (say it again, Sam), to be joined, eventually, by more essays. Please don't make me call it an Etude. Oh yes, and the group is ... the Marine Chamber Orchestra, they will do the parts themselves, and I'll be there to own up to my theft of Beethoven. May 9, Alexandria, Virginia, and what it is, too. And by the way, I usually have quite a bit more lead time than this for orchestra music.

But this leaves open the question of more movements for the four-cello piece, which I had also planned to work on during this vacation. It remains to be seen if I'll be able to get to it. So this makes this vacation already much more productive than last year's winter break, which was spent mostly waiting for Eric Hill to tell me just what he wanted for the Hecuba music, and then ... writing it. Speaking of which ... a video of a small part of the production of Hecuba got posted on vimeo as an example of someone's backdrop designs, and you can hear some of the music I writed. And the sound that happens when the staffs strike the floor is some combo of me hitting piano strings and col legno battuto noises, I think. See yellow "Hecuba" link below.

Meanwhile, there was eating and drinking to do, and we did as much as we did, but not more, and we took walks and went to the bathroom, but never at the same time (at least that we are aware of). Beff arrived for a long stint last Friday, we did the Cast Iron Kitchen, did a call with our financial advisor, took walks, did shopping and all that. On the day after the 8 inch dusting, we drove into Brandeis because Beff wanted to see a particular orchestration in Pulcinella, and the Brandeis library was the closest place with a score of said piece of music, and we drove in, got the score, stopped at Whole Foods on the way back, and had a fire. Beff is, herself, working on something for orchestra -- the U Maine one -- and one guesses she wanted to do something like that Pulcinella orchestration. The conductor, by the way, wants her to integrate video in the piece, and she's finally going to use the massive train footage that we accumulated some while ago -- including 13 movies of trains in Bogliasco, Italy, from May 2006, and a VCCA train in January 06. Just to make sure there was footage to work with, we went to West Concord specifically to get a movie of the gates closing as a train approaches the commuter rail station, and I had the iPod nano and Beff the Flip. Beff positioned herself to film the train approaching the station, and me across the street to get the gates closing -- and wouldn'tcha know, the iPod ran out of battery as it was doing the movie, and the Flip -- Beff didn't manage actually to press that little red "record" button -- bad design, especially if it's 17 degrees and you are wearing gloves. But hey, I got some candy there for Martler, so it wasn't a totally wasted trip.

And my spring semester schedule continues to morph -- that May 9 thing in Virginia being just one of the new events on my calendar. I had been slated to be on an external review committee for UC Santa Cruz in February, and meanwhile the Chicago Chamber Musicians programmed Hyperblue on one of their concerts happening at the same time (the concert was actually curated by my homey Lee Hyla, who has fewer letters in both names than I do in my last one). So I was SOL. The review, though, got postponed by a year at least, which freed up those days for going to the Chicago performance, which is what I will do. And even do some sort of colloquium at Northwestern the day after. So there, smarty pants. I also know my Utah dates -- April 5-6 for UU and 7-8 for BYU. As to my thing at Eastman, no idea still. But May 9 -- definitely I'll be in Alexandria, Virginia, playing the part of the thief.

Beff's sister Ann is now here for Christmas (which was being yesterday, as of when this was typed), and we also saw 2 of the 3 brothers for Christmas (which was, as you know, yesterday). We did a Christmas eve thing at brother Matt's Cambridge apartment, where he had made exactly seven times as much food as was needed. Brother Bob, whose Cambridge apartment is next door, was counted on to make Matt's cooking only four times as much as was needed, but he couldn't make it. Beff and Ann and I took the commuter rail to Cambridge for this fest, which was a cool $40.50 round trip for all three of us, but you know, it's the holidays. And yesterday I picked up the two guys at the South Acton commuter rail at 12:13, we did Christmasy stuff (because, you know, it was Christmas, and yesterday) including a complicated meal made mostly by Ann of pork thingies that were *really good*. I made my usual celery stuffed with cream cheese things, and ate almost all of them myself. Because, you see, I like celery stuffed with cream cheese. Oh yeah, and because it was Christmas, gifts were given. I now have some nice bendy spatulas, for instance. The bigger gifts -- already given, so there. Tonight -- Cast Iron Kitchen with Ann. Last Saturday night: Cast Iron Kitchen with Eric and Pat Chafe. Cast Iron Kitchen: I like it. Beers ordered by Eric: Hop Devil and Rapscallion.

And also. Because of Beff having to use Facebook for her job (to save money, the concert publicity is done on Facebook), I finally caved and re-upped. That's me there. And I got a bunch of new "Friends" owing to uploading a bunch of my Auvillar pictures and "tagging" James Wiznerowicz (the only classical composer known to me with two z's in his name).

Now that it's the end of the year, it's the time for the end of the year roundups (hence the name). So here I try to remember what I did and what I wrote. Which is not hard, because it's all written down somewhere. Newly written: Hecuba music, Mikronomicon, This Means Warble, Solid Goldie, Whole Lotta Shakin', You Blew It, Polkritude, AhChim AnGae, Harm's Way, and Double Fantasy. Trips: Baltimore for the Amy show, Fredonia New York for the Davy and Amy show, Bangor for the Amy show, Cleveland for the Davy and Claude show, New York for Stolen Moments premiere, France for Etchings, Vermont twice for the a-summerin', Utah for the Barlow board, Albany for Thanksgiving. Number of cars owned by me totalled this year: 1. Proper recording sessions: "Cantina" by the Marine Band. Number of new cars purchased: 1. Number of Toyota Corolla S models in our name this year: 2. Number of new 88-key keyboards purchased this year: 1. Date of first crocus: March 7. Landscaping: added new yard after much of fence was damaged by pine tree limbs felled by the December 12 (2008) ice storm. CDs released: Winged Contraption and Etudes Volume 3. Newly published: Piano Concerto. Number of times I quit Facebook: 2. Number of times I rejoined Facebook: 2. Number of mortgage re-fi's this year: 1. Current mortgage rate compared to 2000 rate: -2.75%. Number of times I barfed in 2009: 0. Number of times I metaphorically barfed in 2009: about 20. Number of times I ate soup with my left hand in 2009: 0. Number of colonoscopies in 2009: 1. Number of dinners with Gusty Thomas in 2009: 2; number of times it snowed during those dinners: 1. Canoe rides in 2009: 0.

And below, the year 2009 in pictures. You know the drill: each month is represented by one picture, in the order they occurred. Drum roll, please. January: Gil Rose and Joel Gordon at Winged Contraption editing session. February: Hecuba music recording session. March: the obligatory snowfall after the first croci emerge. April: Sunny enjoying the spring weather. May: a lady's slipper orchid growing wild in the Delaney Nature Preserve. June: the central area for Etchings in Auvillar, France. July: the Assabet River, uncharacteristically still. August: one of the many spectacular Vermont sunsets. September: the department pot luck at our house. October: isolated foliage. November: Main Street in Kensington, California. December: Cammy enjoys the box in which my sister sent us holiday gifts. Bye.

JANUARY 4, 2010 Breakfast was a Thomas's whole wheat bagel with fat free cream cheese. Lunch was the Buffalo tender wrap at the Blue Coyote Grill. Dinner was a Lean Cuisine Panini (it's called "a panini" on the box, but wouldn't one be a "panino"? Does anyone ever order "a sandwiches" or "some green bean" or, for that matter, put on a pant? Or an earmuff?) TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 15.6 and 35.6. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS First movement of Stolen Moments. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE $156 at Whole Paycheck. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY none. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY The Cast Iron Kitchen continues to get my vote here. PET PEEVE roadside litter that ends up on the sidewalk in front of our house -- from milk cartons and beer cans to orange t-shirts. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My first arranging experience, as it were, was for the jazz band in high school -- jazz band was actually a course that met daily, last period. Before that was cut as frivolous. I arranged "Heaven on Their Minds" from JC Superstar, and -- this shows how dumb I was -- there was no score of it. I simply had the instrumentation in mind, and wrote out parts, one by one. Apparently this was how some composers wrote music in the Middle Ages. I do not recall the band ever playing the arrangement, but it's probably still in the archives somewhere. My first arrangement that had an actual score was "What's This World Comin' To?" from Chicago's sixth album, and we did read through it, and it was hard. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Beff got a little pot of plain old grass that the cats like to nuzzle, as is their wont. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: schaloogeau, an ear trumpet perfected before the word "trumpet"existed. Thus the name. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 9. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I have passed the average age for reading glasses and still don't need them. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Jingoism recognized as jingoism. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14, 364. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY I have not bought gas recently. Woo hoo! TRY THESE WHEN YOU RUN OUT OF TREMENDOUS my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

Dear reader, two things are unusual about this update, at least one of which is only virtually visible, and in your mind, if you do not lack reading comprehension. I am typing at night (thus it is dark), and I am about five days early compared to my usual timing. Maybe I should oughta splain.

It's simple, really. My indoor/outdoor thermometer which has been in the master bedroom for about seven years was blinking at me. Blinking, can you believe it? Does it need to salinate its ... eyes? Nope, for the first time since I installed it in that there north-facin' window, the batteries are low, and I had to change them. Thus eradicating the record of highest and lowest temps since the last update! Jiminy Cricket, and a box of hundred pound anvils! So I wrote 'em down. And will get back to you, dear reader, the next time the "thermometer" (at least that's what it calls itself, even when no one is around), needs new batteries. Again! It's two triple As, by the way, which is kind of a sextuple A, unless you were born into it.

So the mere nine days since the last update have had what one might call nein-days -- how ironic, eh? As well as a whole bunch of things that don't rhyme with "purple". Since it has been academic vacation for all concerned (except frogs, but that doesn't concern me), Beff and I have been spending our days almost exclusively inside and at home. Chez Nous. Nostra casa e nostra casa. And as far as writing away, goes, a storm is what we have been. And seeing as that's just about all we've done -- except troll the internet for news and weather -- there won't be a wide variety of experience reported today. Deal with it.

So yes, on the day after Christmas, Beff and Ann and I did the Cast Iron Kitchen at 6:45 pm, and I got the swordfish puttanesca. I make swordfish puttanesca a lot myself (including last night, too long ago to report up above), so it was interesting to see what the pay-to-eat-it version is like. Well, it turns out it comes with Brussels sprouts (who has time to go to Belgium?) that were grilled, and the volume of puttanesca sauce was about equal to the volume of swordfish. Which means the sauce was pretty durn a-thick. Tasty, too, and that's alliterative (and I'm not alliterative because my parents were married when I was born). Beff got the scallops thingie again, and I don't recall what Ann got. But we got the requisite excellent beers -- Rapscallion for me, and some Grimbergen Christmas for Ann, and Old Speckled Hen for Beff ... along with the grilled bread and artichokes we always get as appetizers. Then we came home, celebrating the end of (see last week's update) Massive Storm #2 by walking home in the ... nothing. Ann drove back to Albany the next morning, and Beff and I were, by default, free to begin our post-Christmas work. And we did, Oscar, we did.

Beff started a duo for clarinet and cello for herself and Noreen -- who, by process of elimination, can be discovered as the "cellist", or cello player, in this duo. Beff's piece had lots of little notes and warbles and harmonics, and we spent some time with her hobbled copy of Finale un-hobbling it and coming up with the most efficient ways to notate those complicated harmonics thingies. "Most efficient" being somewhat analagous here to the "best sounding" group of nine hundred bagpipes. Lawdy, I swearzit, notation software makes sure you really *want* those special effects. Um, because, like, and you know ... um, notating them is ... time consuming. And this weekend, she finished the piece, bandied about weather words related to yet another weekend storm (dear reader, can you believe it took me until the fifth paragraph to bring up the weather? More later, as I'm sure you expect), and decided it was a toss-up between Winter Weather Advisory and Special Weather Statement. I believe she chose the former. 'cause, like you know, who could ever sit still for a performance of something called Special Weather Statement? I mean really.

And yes, weather has played another important role in our lives, but in this case since we didn't really have to drive anywhere -- wait, that's not actually true. Well, it kept us inside a lot. I actually spent some time in this update period reading through some old postings from the News Archive, as evidenced on the left, and they are chock full (chalk full?) of lovingly detailed details about weather stuff that I've completely forgotten about, and ... I like them anyway. So for over this last weekend, yet another big storm formed near Texas (I've never liked that state. Much), moved toward New England, strengthened in the gulf of Maine into an ocean storm, and ... missed us! But then due to some atmospheric block of some sort, it .. backed in! ... and gave us about eight fluffy inches meted out over about a forty hour period of very light snow. It was water torture, I tell you -- frozen water, actually. And Beff had planned to drive to Bangor on Sunday (made especially possible by her finishing of her duo), but the storm backed a back-door *warm* front way up north, so that Bangor was 20 degrees warmer than Maynard, and for a while it was ... rain! ... on Sunday. But too dangerous for a 250-mile drive, so Beff left at 5:45 this morning, arriving to a foot of heavy snow to shovel in the driveway. E She says it took her an hour and a half, and boy are her arms tired. Even though she got to use her electric shovel thingie. *Had* to use her electric shovel thingie. And she had to postpone her early Monday Subaru maintenance appointment, since she was -- not within a hundred miles. She comes back Wednesday. And will still be on vacation.

Meanwhile, the me that is I, assuming we use predicate nominative here, started the weird premised piece for the Marine Chamber Orchestra late in the afternoon on the second day after Christmas (you know, the two turtle doves day). As noted here already, the piece is specifically for a family concert on May 9, it's a sleuthing theme, and I play the part of the thief who stole Beethoven's Fifth. And the premise leading to the theft is performances of a bunch of different composers and an explanation, such as it is, of how to recognize each one's music. In my case, they are doing the first movement of Stolen Moments, the "response to jazz", and with some hip stride piano in it (Played with the hands, not with the hips, silly). Thus my piece has stride piano in it, and Beethoven's Fifth. Talk about fun -- it could have been a harder assignment, such as make the quote in the shape of a trapezoid, and slyly quote all the other music on the program, but they didn't go that far. And ... the piece was started, and quoted the Fifth in bar 65 (yes, I know -- 106 bars or so and it becomes the Fibonacci point, and what it is, too) after a development of the three repeated note figure without a fourth note, etc. I am now doing the ending section of the piece, which is going much more slowly. Indeed, today's output is gross thirteen bars, net five bars. As they say anagramically, carp. In any case, if this piece doesn't kill me, it looks like I'll have some time to write more four-cello music. Excellent, Mozart, I'm coming along. The piece's working title? "Foodstuffs: III. Pompelmo". I don't understand it either.

We did spend the dark latter part of the day before the water-torture storm driving to the "wisdom of" Solomon Pond Mall, parking, and watching "Up in the Air" in a movie theater at the matinee price ($7.75, why I never). It was only the second movie we've seen in the theater this year (that I recall -- the other was "Up!", in Burlington), and it was a very good movie. Three very good performances, and story lines that enhance the metaphors, which in turn enhance the story lines, etc. This is called symbiosis, and anyone can have one.

There were other small side trips to Whole Foods, BJs (logs, batteries, toilet paper, dish liquid, etc.), Trader Joes, Staples, and Donelan's Market, but mostly that was us in our house. There are now fifteen days of writing time before I return to Brandeis and do that wowin' 'em thing again. And I plan on using them all. MWA ha ha ha ha. Ha.

The only other stuff of note is that the calendar year turned over, and a virtual new decade started -- even though we all know that the decade begins in 2011, as the millennium began in 2001, but will they listen? Will they listen? Will? They? Listen? Huh? But that third digit did that thing it does only once a decade, and as soon as I remember just what that is, I will not mention anything about it in this space. Bye.

Bye? Wait, no, I'm not finished. Okay. Beff and I took walks, including the really big one around the Assabet (figuratively), and Beff slipped on the ice once. I obsessively shoveled MORE after we were plowed from the recent storm because I like a roomy turning-around area at the top of my driveway. And now Sunny can't go under the gazebo without what he leaves evidence in the form of cat tracks.

Being that that third calendar digit thing happened, I leave you, dear onlooker, with my first decadence retrospective. Wait, decadence? You mean just because we did something for ten years we get to ... misbehave? Cool. So the decadence retrospective gives up one picture per year whose number began with 2 followed by 0, and please, no drum rolls this time.

2000: Me, Jeremy Woodruff, Allison Deane on Cadillac Mountain in Maine overlooking the Bah Hahbah.

2001: Stacy's artful photo of me, David Szmuk and Amy B after the first time she did etudes of mine in Chicagoland.

2002: More than a year later (duh) me 'n' Amy at the first etudes recording sessions

2003: me at the VCCA figuring out the multiple exposure feature on my then-new Nikon Coolpix 4500.

2004: the cats when they was new

2005: me, Beff, and John Aylward at Ines's party at the Atlantic Center for the Arts.

2006: me all dowdied up and fooling no one, before dinner at the Bogliasco Foundation.

2007: Mary Fukushima mugging for the camera in NYC before she did "Firecat" and Mike Kirkendoll premiered two Davytudes

2008: me 'n' Judy Sherman wearing each other at the *third* Davytude recording sessions.

2009: Me outside of Ross's house in Kensington. Bye.

JANUARY 18 Breakfast was coffee and orange juice. Dinner was a Trader Joe's Margherita pizza (Trader Joe's has not paid a promotional fee for mention on this page, and what it is, too). Lunch was grilled chicken and Spaghetti-O's, 3 hours apart. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 3.2 and 47.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Absofunkinlutely. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE $119 for a 1 TB drive for Beff, $186 airfare to Chicago, $118 hotel in Chicago (prepay). COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY oh, let's say the pet store in Northampton for convincing us to buy a bag of cat food that the cats don't care for. But that's reaching back to June now. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Brandeis University, for starting the spring semester AFTER MLK Day. PET PEEVE Sleet and ice covering our sidewalks that are pretty impossible to clear. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Even though I'm ten and a half years younger than my brother, I frequently had the chance to hide in his shadow in elementary school -- as in, teachers who had taught him called me "Donny" until they got used to my actual name. The principal at the elementary school once made everyone in the cafeteria stay at their tables until he decided they were quiet enough. And he would look toward a table, and say into the PA system, "I see a quiet table with a [insert name] at it." He looked at my table and said, "I see a quiet table with a Donald at it", and two other tables got up to leave. But not mine. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Beff we got another potted oat grass plant for the cats to nuzzle, and BOTH of them now like the gift box from my sister. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, compositions, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: toosk, origin obscure but probably Finnish, was the substance used to affix the incendiary (fire-making) ingredients to the end of a kitchen match. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 6. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I have floaters. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: People see the world like I do. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14, 379. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.72 in Maynard. WATCH THIS SPACE my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

If the blame were equally distributed, foxes would get all my iron. For you see, ten squirmy head lice are vastly superior to any kind of inland weather system that wasn't put upon by frogs. Once we get the refrigerator into my nose, we can find the Post-It's better half, and then we'll have to show cause for the rest of the flashlight. Could there be a better way to infract?

Dreary is back! Not only dreary, but messy, sloppy, slushy, gray, and ... well, plenty of white, too. Them What Make have had a habit this winter of predicting a big storm to form in Texas and go out to sea, thus missing New England, and each time said storm has had its way with us. Including the one just about winding down as typing this is being done by me. Last night, even before the precipitating began, our electricity went off twice, each time for about three seconds, and each time preceded by two seconds of brownout (not the corporate brownout related to the nose, but a different one). You have to think whoever keeps those switches on for us is a bit like the kid putting a finger in the dike, and switch-person had to sneeze for the inclement weather, and I have no idea where I'm going with this. So I'll stop. In any case. Nothing, snow showers, rain showers to snow showers, rain to snow, rain to sleet and snow, rain to rain and snow to sleet and snow to rain to snow have been on our weather plate, and the one we chose was ... rain to snow to drizzle. There are 4 slushy, cementy inches out there, and I've already been out this morning to shovel off the flat roof and to flare the end of the driveway, and it is very, very heavy. And the pine tree branches I spy just outside my window are drooping as if they were ashamed of the F I gave them and could they please have a C because they have to keep up their GPA for their scholarship and I know I didn't do any work but I really loved this class. But there seems to be some projecting in there.

But, before all this happened, we had our January thaw. Which was perfect timing, given what month it is. We had two nice mostly sunny days in the mid and upper 40s, and that meant I was able to take brief naps on the side porch, with the cats at bay (it's dogs that bay at the moon, silly). That was followed immediately by the current slopfest.

And meanwhile. Yesterday I became free, or at least free enough to put my head (and part of each of my arms) fully into that teaching thing. Free in the sense that I wrote every bit of music I really had to write during this vacation, and I executed my fifth double bar since I turned in my fall term grades. This means that "I was writing music" is the underlying subtext (redundant, Davy. Get a grip) of everything I bain doing, but there is, of course, more. For some reason, I feel the need to end this paragraph MWA ha ha! MWA ha ha! There. I said it twice.

When last we checked in, I was writing an orchestra piece specifically contracted to "steal" Beethoven's Fifth. Here I get to say that that was one of the five double bars thus executed during this vacation. Beff used a Them What Make Channel aphorism for her title (Winter Weather Advisory), so I did, too, because, you know, why not? So the orchestra piece is called Current Conditions, and is about five minutes long. I have already received, and deposited, the commission check. Which was FEDEXED to me! Best part -- I don't have to do the parts.

Then it was albatross time. As has been reported here, Rhonda Rider asked me some while ago for a nice little piece, and I said yes, and figured I'd do a little 3-minute crowd pleaser for 4 cellos. I blocked off some time around the October Brandeis holidays to work on it, and inexplicably, Mr. Serious took over my brain. I had written a 6-minute sturm and drang kind of piece and had my V-8 moment that it wasn't beginning music I had written, but ending music. Sigh. Time to balance it with a slow movement and a beginning music movement. Me being me, I made the movement beginnings very similar, but ... it took but two days to write a passable slow movement (passable in the sense that if you eat it, you will crap it, too) and about a week for the first movement. And now I am free of it! And the here's-three-no-sixteen minutes thing has to stop. I mean, imagine being an elevator operator ... "take me to the third floor" "here you are, sir, sixteenth floor". Is that hyperbole, metaphor, or just dumb?

So besides the earning of a beer daily by writing enough to deserve one, there has been some various walks with Beff -- whose classes began a week ago -- and the Cast Iron Kitchen, and the dreaded yearly tax return calculations. The tax return stuff eats away a lot of otherwise usable time, but it just hasta be done, you know? So Beff spend an afternoon putting the receipts into piles of similar intent or material similarity, and together we spent another afternoon compiling the itemized lists, and then it was my turn to tabulate the amounts and tabulate all the house expenses, etc. This year, though, the going through the bank statements thing got easier, since our bank lets us have PDFs of our statements, which makes them searchable on the computer, PLUS the online bill pay keeps a record of 18 months worth. So instead of rooting through 12 envelopes for utility payments, there they all were. What did I do with all the time I saved? Well, obviously I deserved a beer.

Beff and I also took our financial guys' advice, and recommendation, and started the official process of doing the will and the health care proxy. Plus a few other pro forma forms (hence the name) to keep blah blah blah and all that. That involved a trip to Boston and an elevator to the 19th floor of One Financial Center, and thus a nice Asian meal in Porter Square. Not to mention a nice view of Boston Harbor. So the blah blah blah will be happening soon, and then we will pay for it. Blah blah blah costs less than Current Conditions paid, but not by a lot. Our lawyer, by the way, has a name that is a homonym with the name of one of my best former students.

Oh yeah, and the four cello thing. Sweet, too. It's for Rhonda Rider "and her constellation", and she plans on doing it with her cello seminar at Music from Salem (New York) in June -- and it will be played FROM SCORE. Which means no part-extraction, woo hoo over here over and over and over again. Which is nice, since I spent the sun's-not-up-yet part of this morning doing the parts for AhChim AnGae, the piece for Korean fiddle and string trio from way back last summer. Parts are no fun, but at least they have "art" in them. Or as a high-paid idea guy would say, you can't have parts without art. And then he would choose bad fonts. Maybe I would add that you can make parts with strap, but why would you? I haven't decided what this paragraph is about yet, so I'll just stop right here. No I won't. You can't have sturm und drang without strum and gnard.

Oh yeah, and the title of the four cellos piece. It had the working title of Cello Shots, which is only funny when the moon is in a certain phase. I had an e-mail exchange with Rick Moody about a name, and we massaged the options into: 'Cell'Out. It's my only title with two apostrophes AND which begins with one AND in which one is preceded and followed by letters without any space. That is definitely the first time I ever typed that particular sentence. Definitely, definitely.

So in 48 hours or so I will be back in the teaching saddle, which if you really think about it is kind of an icky metaphor. It'll be a similar kind of situation to last term -- Theory 2 and about 8 private students -- except this is the composing semester in Theory 2, and that means massive extra office hours on my part. Though in 48 hours, we will be listening to Nuages and trying to start a conversation about how you talk about it and how you analyze it. For the second time in this update, I feel compelled to end a paragraph with MWA ha ha.

Upcoming -- going to Chicago in about three weeks. My appointment with the NY accountant is February 17, during our Brandeis vacation. March seems to be mostly empty. Oh, and graduate admissions, and, and ... well, of course, plenty of writing of letters for various peoples. And see the green links on the left of stuff writed during this vacation -- the flutude from December, being from December, is, like, way long ago, and thus gone.

Today's pictures include my Aldwell/Schachter textbook getting the fate it deserved (after the Theory class took swings at it with an axe), Saturday's version of Beff's grand slam breakfast, the entire sketch of Current Conditions, Sunny's tracks toward the gazebo that he then thought better of, and the cats continuing to love my sister's holiday gift box. Bye.

JANUARY 30 Breakfast was Trader Joe's French toast, bacon, coffee and orange juice. Dinner was salmon teriyaki and garlic spinach. Lunch was the Cast Iron Kitchen steak sandwich, salad, and puff pastry pizzas (which we were not asked to say five times fast). TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 5.0 and 55.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS a funk tune whose name I don't know but whose refrain is "get up on the dance floor" and which is by Grand Central Station. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE car payments, mortgages, cell phone bills ... bill for half a winter's driveway and sidewalk snow removal, $180. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY whomever is in charge of getting the Nov 20 performance recording of Mikronomicon to me, which I still do not have. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY the NECN Weather person who correctly predicted, 24 hours in advance, a snow squall with rapid accumulation moving through here between 5 and 6 pm on Thursday. PET PEEVE drivers who don't stop for pedestrians at crosswalks--actually, only when I am that pedestrian. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Beff and I, and Lee Blasius, and others, were in the pit band for a Princeton production of L'Histoire du Soldat, with sets by Michael Graves and a professional cast. The Devil was played by Mark Metcalf, also known as Niedermayer in Animal House, Obnoxious Guy in the Twisted Sister videos, and The Master on Buffy. One night Beff kept the band together when the conductor got lost, and another night I recognized The Devil came in a bar late and so I did, too, thus avoiding calamity. After one rehearsal, Metcalf handed me a note from Patti that read "after rehearsal, take a flying fuck", and he said, "I hope you know what that means." I did. It was our name for the jumbled-up sculpture in front of the library. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Now that it's cold again, the cats sit in the windows facing the sun, plaintively gesturing for us to open the windows. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Bio, Compositions, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: scerainon, a substitute for rubbing alcohol in certain Asian countries before it was discovered to be tasty to cockroaches. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 7. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I can lock my legs in the lotus position and walk on my knees. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Half-moustaches. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14,411. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.67 in Maynard. A FEW THINGS THAT WOULD BE ABOUT AS EFFECTIVE A PRESIDENT AS THE CURRENT ONE my head, ladybugs, a tree trunk, manhole covers, 'Round Midnight.

Triskadekaphobia has nothing on me. It's had its way with truffle snatchers, but it could never sing vowels in tune -- at least not the ones we found in the clover. Now that the dogs have been let into the lighthouse, I suppose snatching an extra Post-It is not only out of the question, it's also something to be savored in soft focus. So then the lights went out, and we ate them.

Dear reader, I have the strange pleasure to report that it is sunny outside as I type this, though my usual line of sight that includes the south-facing window in the computer room is pretty a-covered in ice condensation. The sort of thing that's charming on a Currier and Ives postcard, somewhat nuisancy otherwise. I can see, though, that it's sunny, and that the usual places that become barren of snow earliest are becoming so yet again. And it's cold -- 7 degrees, according to my Weather Bug.

But, since I rag on Them What Make so much (because deserving being ragged on is so oftenly being done by them), I will repeat my compliment, and its complement, first noted the upper section. The beginning of this week was rather warm for this time of year -- a big rainstorm accompanied by temps in the mid-50s -- and it was still above average by midweek. Then Them What Make predicted a cold front passing through with really cold air, triggering some very light snow showers and a squall or two. On Wednesday's 5:30 show on NECN, the weather person said "and probably just before the front passes, there will be a snow squall with a quick half inch or so in the western suburbs between 5 and 6". So then on Thursday, Derek J came over at 5 for a consultation on his dissertation (since, duh, I am his dissertation advisor), and the yards were a little frosty from the snow showers and the roads bare. We spent an hour looking at his piece, and at 6 we looked out, saw that it was clear, but with a half inch of new fluffiosity outside, and the roads looked slippery. Well done, Them What Used to Make and Will Still Make.

But digressing is being done by me. Beff's schedule and mine are complex to the edge of believability coming up -- indeed, Beff was trapped in Maine last weekend due to a concert by her faculty ensemble (one of my electric violin pieces was on it -- the one marked "Fumando", to which a Beffleague (conflation of Beff and colleague) remarked, "Do you think Davy meant 'smokin''?" and I like typing four consecutive punctuation marks). Beff will be hosting David Feuerzeig at U Maine in two weeks, and then giving a concert at UVM in four weeks -- for which she has just pulled out the E-flat clarinet and is practicing my "The Squeaky Wheel". Obviously a piece I wrote in order to use the title, and what it is, too. February 25 in Burlington, Vermont, and she's doing some of her own music, too, and some flute and clarinet stuff with her colleague Liz -- who by process of elimination can be discovered to be a flautist.

And since that paragraph was typed, I drove Beff to the South Acton commuter rail station so that she can make Flip video for a piece she's writing for orchestra and video. The underlying visual motif is trains, and she's already got a whole mess o' train movies I made in Bogliasco, and some in Harvard station, and she decided she wanted a view of the tracks from the POV of, I guess, the engineer. So she's on that train to get that POV. This Tuesday, I had tried getting a similar movie along the tracks at a nearby crossing from one of our bike rides. As in, I walk along the tracks and film, and this is something like what they did for the forest scenes in the Return of the Jedi. The idea being, speed it up a lot and it'll be like being in a train. Well, no -- with the gravel and snow on the tracks to step on, around, and over, my movies sped up are more like being a Bobblehead engineer on the train. If Beff ever does a bobblehead visual motive, she's already got starter movies.

In any case. Beff wants to let you, dear reader, know that there seems to be sufficient compression of the steam within our forced-steam radiator heating system that when it revs up, the knocking is loud, loud, loud and "last night's sleeping was like sleeping in the middle of a percussion ensemble." Well, a percussion ensemble with fractal rhythms and only one kind of articulation, sure. What the fractal?

In the meantime, a new semester started, while another one was trickling to an end -- Incompletes from the fall being resolved -- and my teaching schedule is nearly identical to last semester, except just a bit longer on Mondays, as Jared's lesson melts into an independent study on Dutilleux's Metaboles. A great, great piece, by the way. And in Theory 2, after a WTF day listening to and trying to come up with ways to talk about Nuages (it's by Debussy, dontcha know), we embarked severely on the Variations unit. MWA ha ha, and sorry, that just sorta slipped out. In these composition units this semester, it means much less regular grading, but many more scheduled extra office hours with which to compensate. You will, Oscar, you will. This Monday we shall hear the Schumacher variations, and what it is, they are, and have been, MWA ha ha.

Last week was being the week of the BMOP winds concert, which included the east coast premiere of Harold Meltzer's concerto for piano and winds -- with Ursula Oppens as the soloist. Indeed, Harold's rehearsals began on Tuesday -- the day before my first class -- and that afternoon he drove here, we went to the Cast Iron Kitchen, he stayed in the guest room, and I left for school before he even got up. I am that way. All evidence points to him having left a little bit later, having had very little of the coffee I made. On Friday the BMOP show happened, and I got into Boston a bit early in order to do the Pru and Newbury Street and dinner at the Pour House. Indeed, dinner at the Pour House is extremely cheap, and the beers are the size of your head, AND I used to go there often with Julie K regularly, about 25 years ago. And of course, I am clever enough to know not to tell my 20-year-old waitress, "hey, I used to come her a lot, five years before you were born ..."

Anyway, the BMOP show had the customary pre-show dialogue with all the composers available, which in this case was this list: Harold. Marti Epstein was the interviewer, and the questions and answers were more or less standard issue -- 'ceptin' the part about lawyers who become composers. The concert itself was brilliant, and I listened from the balcony. Where I also sat. And there was a weird-ass Grainger piece to end the first half which began with an organ sound that made it seem as if Whiter Shade of Pale was going to be what was to follow.

At this point, I direct the reader to a few common expressions nowadays, which are the ATM Machine and the PIN Number. Which, unpacked, yield the Automatic Teller Machine Machine and the Personal Identification Number Number. I tell you this by way of noting that the ICE ensemble is in residence at Brandeis this weekend, where they will play a "rep" concert, a grad student composers concert, and do readings on Monday for undergraduates. So the ICE Ensemble -- the International Contemporary Ensemble Ensemble -- is reputed to be among the best in the world, and how could we afford them in this economy? Well, the grad students who booked them said, "we'll take five, please. And let them be guitar, piano, flute, clarinet, and percussion". And what has my part in this grand scheme been? I'm glad I asked me that. I have been teaching the students writing for this performance, and answering most technical questions about guitar writing with the standard "how the frack should I know?" Plus, with the reading to happen on Monday, I have solicited my undergrad composition students to submit scores. Yes, I was being quite solicitous.

Lurching back to the Harold experience. Whenever I talk with Harold, he always has a list of bizarre piano etude suggestions, many of which seem tailored to a title. This time was no exception. Case in point: how about a prepared piano etude where only the B-flats are prepared? (the error here is that it should be the B's -- read further) It could be called Preparation H. (rim shot, and see, B is what Germans call H, silly). Then he also suggested a knocking and hitting etude simply to be called "Knock Knock". That one seemed silly enough to pursue (and since I'm no longer pursuing my PhD nor pursing my lips, my purs- time is pretty free). But me no likee that particular title, especially since knocking is not as nice a sound as hitting -- from the pianist's standpoint. Still, though -- I thought of calling such a piece Knock Turn, but Harold rightly pointed out that that thing is all over Harry Potter, including the toy section of amazon. So, I decided to call it Knocksville. Even though I was, for a while, considering Tutti I Battuti (Italian for all the hits). A fair amount of time writing it consisted of deciding on the notations for where and how to hit and making a Key -- and then, while writing, remembering them all. But I squeezed the piece out in my non-teaching time (obviously), and there's a link to the score and MIDI up there's on the left. The MIDI is fun -- since with the piano sound it arpeggiated an F major 7 chord. I retooled it to play the standard MIDI gunshot sound (helicopter just didn't cut it, which I guess is a weird kinda pun), which is way funnier. AND would not fit in as well with the first bar of "Colour My World".

Now I mentioned earlier that we've had some warm-ass weather here. So warm, in fact, that most of the snow, at least that in the sunnier places, had left and gone away, Joltin' Joe-like. With the warmth persisting for the first half of this week, it was perfect for me to go out and start to clean up the proliferation of many, many fallen pine cones. Indeed, I collected half a barrels worth, which I now officially add to the fall 2009 leaf raking total to yield 109 barrels. SO FAR. Because there are still many pine cones up to pick, the long tail (but not the ears for hats) of the fall 2009 raking season will overlap somewhat with First Crocuses season.

But also with respect to the weather, there was a nuisance storm of great heaviness on the day before classes started, with many things coinciding. The Maids, who clean our house monthly, came at 9:30 in the morning, so I skedaddled out to Trader Joe's for provisions and to get firewood on the way back. Meanwhile, a sloppy snowstorm started, and began accumulating. When I got back, the Maids car was still at the top of the driveway, the bottom of the driveway was blocked by a Maynard Door and Window truck, and two guys were taking off some old storm windows and putting new ones on. In the snowstorm. So, off I parked on a side street, asked the guys to get out of the way when the Maids left and to let me in my own garage, and much running and maneuvering happened at that point. A big avalanche of snow fell off the roof, missing the guys by a few inches, and then they had to shovel a path on the back porch roof to get to the upstairs bathroom window, the last window they were replacing. And again they just missed a roof snow avalanche. But now the north-facing rooms downstairs are now brighter, and so is the upstairs bathroom. Fascinating.

And not one, not two, but three times in this reporting period -- I napped on the sun porch with the cats. All the spring fever that welled up with those naps has been crushed by today's 5-degree weather.

With complicated scheduling stuff upcoming for both of us, Beff is taking the cats to Maine either this weekend or next, AND I'm going to Maine at the beginning of my February break to bring them back -- while, incidentally, seeing Beff's colleagues and eating out. And now the next piece on the docket -- a Davy-tinged piano styling of "Ladies Who Lunch." I love these weird commissions.

Today's pictures is the back yard with much snow gone, the view out the computer room window this morning, Knocksville as it looked while I was writing it, the path to the bathroom window on the little roof, a bit of the class-made list of ways to vary themes on the board, and Goldie Celeste (soon to become an older sister) trying out the ACTUAL toy piano used in the Piano Concerto recording (from Marilyn's cell). Bye.

FEBRUARY 15 Breakfast was nothing. Lunch was a can of Campbell's Chunky Chicken soup. Dinner last night was Buffalo tenders, the grilled Teri Tuna Sandwich, and fries, at the Sea Dog Brewery in Bangor. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 8.8 and 42.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Ladies Who Lunch. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE taxis in Chicago, $140, lunch for 4 in Chicago $180, Logan airport parking $88. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY the crab place in Chicago for the exceedingly dry fish taco they served me, the O'Hare Airport Doubletree for charging EXTRA for wi-fi, and Them What Make for the 8-inch snowstorm predicted here that turned out to exaggerate by about 1000 percent. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY United Airlines, for TWICE getting my bag on the baggage carousel before I arrived at it, and cab companies in Chicago for giving me long rides in a 10-inch snowstorm. PET PEEVE my personal lack of omniscience. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: On the first full day of the Rome Prize year, the Fellows in residence were assembled in the Tapestry Room in a semicircle for introductions, and all were asked to give a five-minute, at most, presentation on what they planned to do in the year in Rome. Several scholars and artists were before me, and they mostly talked about going to the Vatican for research and splurted names and dates that would only make any sense to me later as I got to know those Fellows. Nathan Currier, the other composer, went before me, talked about something I forgot, and went to the piano to play a movement of a piano sonata of his -- thus far exceeding his five minutes. When it was my turn, my entire spiel was, "I'm David Rakowski, I'm a composer, and I'm going to make stuff up". No one chastized me for ending my sentence with a preposition, and neither did those who followed me follow my model of brevity. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They made the trip to Bangor and back, and Sunny became The Lump In the Bed during the day. Now that they're back, they want to look out EVERY WINDOW and go through EVERY DOOR. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: stooscy ("stooshy" in the Southern dialect), the tendon on the very back of the shoulder blade. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 8. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE my forehead is pretty flat, hence the CD cases I can stick to it. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Tried and true becomes mysterious and false. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14,434. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.79 in Maynard, $2.63 in Bangor, $2.53 in Maynard. A FEW THINGS THAT WOULD BE ABOUT AS EFFECTIVE A PRESIDENT AS THE CURRENT ONE sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.

Dear reader, today I do no dada -- and that sounds like it should be a palindrome, and if it isn't, then why not? Much travelage was accomplished by he who is I in the last two weeks, and much of it was not even predicted in the last update. So lemme splain.

The International Contemporary Ensemble Ensemble was in residence at the 'Deis the last time I was typing here, and they gave two concerts. The Saturday night concert was the "rep" concert -- all the rep was very, very notey and dazzlingly performed, and with one exception, it was dullsville stuff. The Sunday night concert was student works, which was again dazzlingly played, and showed a very wide range from our grad and undergrad students. The International Contemporary Ensemble Ensemble's performers who came were all exceedingly nice people as well as hot caca performers, and were nice out with which to hang at the post-concert reception. On the Monday after, they also did a reading session for undergraduates that were interested, as well, as a reading of one of the pieces being written for the Sunday concert that didn't get finished in time. It was more hot caca in evidence, and the recordings came out nicely as well. Yoni, a freshman, remarked that the high school players he'd given his duo to couldn't come close to playing it, while the ICE people read it down perfectly. I missed out on the second half of the reading due to a composition lesson (I was giving it), as well as the Advice For Composers session about which nothing had been known, in advance, by me.

And then it was onto the mundaneness of my actual job (you know -- teaching, grading, teaching, etc.), and that even included getting Jeremy S to sub for my Theory 2 class on Monday the 8th while I was in the central time zone (it's just this thing I like to do) during a chat at the after-concertness on Sunday. Then there was the actual teaching, which when you are looking at existing variations and critiquing variations being written by class members is hella fun. We even used a laser pointer for reasons that are a bit complicated to explain here. By complicated, I of course mean dumb.

And on the Sunday of the second ICE concert, Beff made her traditional trek back to Bangor, and with the cats. Because of my complex travel schedule (well, not complex, just considerable), it was either get Janine to look in daily and feed them, or give them more of the Bangor experience (thus making them appreciate even more the Maynard experience, and what it is, too). This meant that when she came for a day and a half of the weekend that followed, it was she who was abandoning the cats and not I. MWA ha ha, I always say, even when it's not germane. Especially when it's not germane. And of course on that day and a half we did the Cast Iron Kitchen (woo hoozers!) and took some of our usual walks. She had to go back early on Saturday to get to a recital, and that was fine, since I was to leave for the airport at (oh lawdy) 6:45 am on Sunday. You may find this hard to believe, dear reader, but I did just that.

And so I was going to Chicago because on Monday the 8th the Chicago Chamber Musicians -- a local professional group that gives lots of concerts -- were giving a Composer Perspective concert curated by Lee Hyla, and he programmed three of his pieces, the Crumb Eleven Echoes, and my Hyperblue. I had originally been tapped to spend February 8 and 9 in Santa Cruz for an external review panel (joysville), but since that got postponed, I got to do Chicago instead. And do it I did, sort of by definition. And so I flew to Chicago in an eventless flight, maneuvered through the labyrinth of O'Hare to get my bag -- which had already been on the carousel long enough to start collecting dust -- caught a cab to Lee and Kate's place in the meatpacking district, and when I and the cab got there, I and my bags went in. Thus I got to reunite with our former Camry, parked outside, and see their "new" place in an old warehouse -- a beautiful and tastefully decorated place with views of the Sears Tower, and with 15 foot ceilings. Hot diggity. We got Kate'skype up and a-running (including a call with Beff) and fixed her OS X e-mail, and then she took me to Roosevelt University for my Hyperblue rehearsal.

And so she did. The rehearsal was on the 14th floor, meaning taking an elevator, walking halfway around the building, and taking another elevator, and the room has a heating fan that made lots of noise, thus making it hard to rehearse soft stuff. But I met the players in my trio, got to hear them play, made voluminous comments (which is unlike me -- but since they were already sounding great it was easy to layer in some nuances), and then Lee and I cabbed it back Leewards. For you see -- there was then a Super Bowl party to get to, and it was at Bernard and Gusty's place. Woo hoo! As I recall, Lee was for the Saints, and I didn't care who won as long as Indianapolis lost, and we both got our wish. As for other ironic context, I had first met Bernard properly in 1986 at a Super Bowl party -- this one at my apartment in Brookline. Patriots 10, Bears 44.

So we all three cabbed it (I was to take lots of cabs on this trip) to Gusty's, started the festivities, took pix of HER view (she has the lake and the south of Chicago, among other things), and started the consumption of consumables. As usual, more food was available than was necessary. And Stacy and Joe then came, then Amy B, and Adam Marks. So it was a Davy-fest in a way, and as fun as fun can be. I had lots of uncured pepperoni and cucumbers, and, well, there you have it. I spent a not insignificant portion of the game in the living room having conversations about stuff I don't recall -- but I was in the room for the interception that sealed the Colts's fate as well as soiling Peyton Manning's legacy (which may be a euphemism, dunno). And then we had a brief drink on the way home, and cabbed it back. I then slept.

Monday morning was a proliferation of dress rehearsals, and it was great to hear Lee's pieces twice that day -- including a piece called "Warble", which is, as far as I know, the only Lee Hyla piece I have ever been entirely comfortable describing as "charming". Wilson's Ivory Bill, one of my favorite pieces of all-time by any composer living or dead, was on the program, and after the rehearsals Lee and Kate and Lee's singer and I ate at a crab place to the north (except for the fish taco, the food was pretty good, and Kate kept apologizing for the slow service). Then there was the drive back home in our old Camry, naps, and then getting to the gig itself -- first Stacy moderated a talk with Lee and then Lee and me, and we answered questions as eptly as we could. The concert itself was a smash, there was pizza at the reception, and the U of Chicago faculty who were in attendance didn't seem to be able to find me afterwards.

Then we went home and slept. Tuesday morning Lee took the Metra to Evanston for his teaching, and a snowstorm of unusual proportion began. Kate and I walked around in it while she explained various aspects of the meatpacking district (pig's heads play a rather large part, dear reader, both in actuality and in cartoon), we had lovely sandwiches and wine, and by the time six inches had fallen, I took a cab to Northwestern to give a colloquium. Which I did, apparently to much secret weeping and gnashing of teeth by them what were in attendance of it. After said colloquium, Lee got me to a cab to get to the Airport Doubletree, which in now 10 inches of snow and still falling, was quite a harrowing little ride. I had spicy Bloody Maries there, caprese, and cheeseburger sliders, asked for a 3:45 wakeup call, and got the 4:15 shuttle to the airport offered by the Doubletree -- who, by the way, charged $11.34 extra (plus tax) for wi-fi.

Now the snowstorm was over in Chicago, but it was on its way east, and all flights to DC, NYC, and North Carolina were cancellato (as they say in Italy -- or probably tutti i voli eranno cancellati). But not Boston, which had a Winter Storm Warning for eight inches of snow, starting in the afternoon. So I and my fellow United passengers flew over the storm, thus beating it to Boston, I got my bag -- collecting dust again -- and hightailed it to Brandeis for my Wednesday teaching. I made it to my 11 am lesson with six minutes to spare. Mid-lesson, Brandeis decided to close at 1 for the snowstorm (it was still just flurries outside). So I did my noon lesson, e-mailed my Theory 2 class, now cancelled, and drove home, cheerful that I was beating the big snow --- by a lot, it turns out. Final tally in Maynard: a bit less than an inch. I was able to go outside after the storm and BLOW the sidewalks clean. But I swept them nonetheless.

Thursday was a day of makeup lessons and office hours for Theory 2 students, as well as a department meeting. Then home came I to pack and so forth. But first there was a makeup lesson at 8:30 via Skype which was way fun, since we utlized the "screen share" feature. And on Friday I had a makeup lesson and a drive to Bangor. Why? It was how I was going to get to Bangor. For Friday night, David Feurzeig from UVM was giving a free ragtime/stride/Bach piano recital. Who could pass that up? And so there it was, it was great, and David stayed at our little ol' place with his daughter Zoe. We bought them pizza at Pat's while the opening ceremonies from the Olympics went on, and home we went. Next day was a tour of Bangor (eight minutes) followed by them driving back to Vermont. And Beff and I had dinner in downtown with Liz and Denny, and with Chip and Charlie at the Sea Dog the next day. Midst a bunch of shopping -- had to get a new electric razor, for instance, since the old one was broken to the point of cutting me when I shaved, as well as olive antipasto, Bodum bistro coffee makers, etc.

And this morning I drove back, cats in ... hand? ... and they were happy to be able to look outside and go outside, etc. I went into Brandeis for Brandeis biz, and back I am now, typing this update while the yards are nearly clear of snow, and it is dusk outside. The rest of this week I am on vacation, but will be going on Wednesday to New York for our yearly tax meeting with Jonathan, and will be staying with Marilyn and George and Goldie -- returning Thursday. Woo hoo! Then Beff's back, we do the Cast Iron Kitchen on Friday, and all is well. Time to get out my recording of Ladies Who Lunch and transcribe it.

Meanwhile, Rick Moody has been doing a monthly music blog for some time now, and a few days ago he did an entry about me. It's an aw shucks kind of thing for me, but certainly it's some of the best writing and writing about music you'll encounter. See "Therumpus" link up there and to the left. I could sure use some pizza.

Upcoming. Stuff. No more travel till April, so that's good, in a non-traveling sort of way. Lent begins this Wednesday, and like last year, I am giving up Facebook for Lent. Not because I am devout enough to give up stuff for Lent. It's just that it's good every once in a while to have an ironclad reason not to waste time with Facebook. Which I like. But which I loathe. They both begin with L. And we have a Winter Storm Watch for tomorrow for 2-4, 4-6, 3-6 or 3-8 inches of snow, depending on which Them What Make webpage you look at. Dadburn Alberta Clippers that pick up extra moisture from the Gulf of Maine, I curse thee ...

The first two of this week's pix were taken on Gusty's camera at the Super Bowl party -- Gusty, Amy, me, and Me, Amy, Kate. Dunno why I am so pink. Next, the snow cover shots of Maynard and Bangor (not much, eh DC readers?). Then Sunny in Bangor above the covers and below them. Then Beff, David Feurzeig and Zoe in our dining room Saturday morning. And finally, a pic by Laura Schwendinger of me and a writer whose name will occur to me later, in the fountain in the mansion at Yaddo in June, 2007. Bye.

FEBRUARY 28 Breakfast was Trader Joes french toast, blueberries, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was steak tips from Shaws and Polish fries. Lunch was Trader Joes shrimp tempura. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 21.0 and 48.7. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Give Me Your Love", Tower of Power. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE heating oil $452, Whole Foods $106. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY The United States Postal Service, for managing to smash into several pieces the CD of Mikronomicon before delivering it to me; and Merrill Lynch for taking so long to get the 1099s to us -- after our tax appointment, even. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY The Pickle Guys, for the exceedingly fine picklage absconded from New York. PET PEEVE people who toss trash out of their cars onto Great Road so that we have to pick it up. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: The first day I taught at Brandeis I wore a suit and tie, always knowing that it would never happen again. Marty was amused, and made it part of Brandeis lore for many years to follow. In years to follow, I always dress down on any day of teaching that precedes Labor Day, since I think teaching before Labor Day is dumb. I'd say at least half of those first days I taught in shorts and a t-shirt. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: The stretchy version of Cammy on the bed in the morning, and the hanging out by the little catnip patch and nuzzling it in back. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Reviews 4, Reviews 5, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: bloudge, unclear whether it means being poked with an elbow, or the concept of elbowness itself. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 7. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I have earlobes of size. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Everybody buys the score of Hyperblue and says, "Hmmm." PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14,484. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $3.09 in Connecticut, $2.59 in Maynard. A PARTIAL LIST OF THINGS THAT DON'T RHYME WITH "WART" sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.

One for the money, six for the tent, lollipops for the intransigent, and then we make pie. To negotiate the stream of pipe, haven't they traditionally turned into starch, or at least found the megabyte of independence from earlier? Because it occurs to me that when triple tap water is converted from plastic, the end of a cigarette butt suffers.

But really. It is another Sunday morning with the unusual quality of a bit of sunshine out there. Weather has been all over the place -- in fact, no matter where you go, there it is -- and we here in eastern central southern New England haven't had as much as a lot of people have had. Nonetheless, Them What Make have been busy getting it mostly right, except when it counts getting it mostly terribly, terribly wrong. The eight inches equals one inch storm was noted here earlier. The storm coming the Tuesday after Valentine's Day, and thus after the most recent posting here, was all over the map on the forecasts, even moment by moment. In the end, there were eight heavy inches, necissitating a future payment of $45 for snow removal, but I'm worth it. And this last week has been quite weatherful, since some sort of blocking pattern caused a storm to loop-the-loop over us, giving a foot and a half of snow to New York and about three or four inches of RAIN to us here -- indeed, the Flood Warnings on the Them What Make page go onto another page. The Assabet has been at flood stage, and that's good for agribusiness --- if there were any over here at all. But in this weird upside-down February, we continue to have bare lawns while to the south of us they count the snow in feet. As a sidebar, I've been counting my feet in snow for many years, and I always get two.

I did my February vacation thing (or in common parlance, my vacation), which included staying home on Tuesday because of the snow. I had spent idle time on Monday transcribing Ladies Who Lunch, as well as going out to lunch precisely because I am worth it. But on Wednesday I up and drove to Manhattan, and this time not because I am worth it. For you see, I had a 12:30 appointment in midtown with Jonathan to do our taxes, and it was the usual whirlwind: he always gets a bit behind because he loves to chat, and there's another guy in the office doing the beezywork of entering the more mundane numbers into the return. And then the fun of explaining why there's a new car purchase, codifying energy-saving deductions (turns out the new windows and new porch door qualify -- woo hoo!), and on and on. And then -- I could have driven back right then and there (well, not there, but then...), but Marilyn and George (and Goldie) had made a standing invitation (the chairs were in the shop) for me to stay there, and even at eight months pregnant Marilyn wanted to do it. So there was a fun evening of pizza and artichoke dip, learning about Goldie, watching the parenting happen, and all. And my route there included walking just about the entire length of Canal Street -- thus brushing the edge of Chinatown and the entrance to the Manhattan Bridge. I was a bit early, so I checked out the neighborhood, including the ingestment of a Bloody Mary in an Irish pub, and a side trip down Essex Street that revealed -- The Pickle Guys!

Ah yes, The Pickle Guys. I had read about them in the NYTimes and had ordered pickles from them, which I liked, but they got the orders wrong both times, and the shipping costs were astronomical, so I hadn't been back. BUT, my friends, dear readers, and things that begin with 'x', I relished (to coin a term) the opportunity to see the, um, retail store as it were. Which basically is a bunch of guys hanging out on the sidewalk by a fake barrel, going into a room, half the size of my bedroom, of nothing but barrels, and pointing and drooling. In my case, especially drooling. I brought a bunch of spicy sour and tomatilloes with me to Marilyn and George and Goldie's, and brought them back home with me, and have been doing what you are supposed to do with them. So ... that was cool. I also got to participate in the local doughnut place, which makes several unusual varieties, including one with rose petals. Non ti merdo.

So when I got back on Thursday, all the snow had already fallen from the roof and I had to shovel it (snow falling from the roof happens often after snowstorms, often very dramatically and with a big noise that makes the cats scurry to get under the couch), the Maids came to clean the house, and yet again out I went for lunch. I was worth it, and still am. After which I began my piano styling of Ladies Who Lunch -- which begins with a introductory treatment of the main motives that sounds like Debussy if he had eaten nothing but doughnuts. I don't know what it means either.

Beff then came for her customary short weekend thing, and we did the things we do when Beff is here for her short weekend thing. This included getting to the Cast Iron Kitchen right when they open so as to get the booth, taking various walks, and all that jazz. We raked up pine cones from the back yards, and removed a segment of the fence that was kind of droopy. Then back went Beff, and little more did I do on my LWL setting. Since the lawns were now bare (again!), I noticed that there was a buttload of acorns still in the yard behind the garage, and just walking caused considerable slippage. So during the day on Sunday I kept making trips outdoors to rake up and discard pile upon pile of said acorns -- which with the fallen pine cones of winter's brunt (I like pretentiousness in small doses) added three to the season total of rakage -- dear reader, we are now at 112. And counting.

For you see, school was about to be back in session, and much was to be done. Thanks to the fake snowstorm that cancelled class, many additional office hours needed to be scheduled by me, which I did -- after class on Monday for what seemed like forever, as well as two hours midday on Tuesday, just before we were to get snow or rain or rain to snow or snow to rain or rain and snow or sleet and rain. Indeed, almost hourly the forecast changed. On Tuesday night substantial rain pounded the house making a sound that you've probably heard before ("the sound of rain", they call it), and I retired early in order to unretire early. Then at about 10:30 there was kitty commotion coming from Beff's closet, and eventually I spied dear Sunny with a mouse in his mouth. What I saw was actually the mouse's tail, but you get the idea. Kitties being kitties, they didn't want to just kill the mouse -- they wanted to play with it. So around and around ran said mouse, then down the stairs, then up the stairs, and soon all was still. Back bedwards went I, only to stir a bit at 3:30 -- at which point I noticed "the sound of rain" was no longer happening -- and I heard a faint scratching sound in the computer room. The cats, who had returned to the foot of the bed, sprang to action. Moi-meme, I sighed and followed them, and encountered said mouse -- looking a bit more like a watercolor painting of a mouse than a mouse (what's up with that?) -- trapped under the subwoofer of my computer speakers. Gently I picked it up, using a towel, and outed it via the window. At which point I noticed everything outside was white. So ... well, I was awake, so ... I did laundry.

And since my first comp student had cancelled, I didn't need to go in so early. Thus, outside I went into the slop storm and shoveled two cementy inches of wet snow/sleet/rain. I put the laundry in the dryer. I made coffee. I had breakfast. And still it was before sunrise. So, wet, tired, achy, I went in eventually and did my teaching. By the time of my Brandeis escape, the precip was heavy rain, and with all the new whiteness, there was plenty of ponding on the roads, so it was just like a motorboat ride home. I think I even had my own wake, and I could easily have taken a hitchhiker on skis home. There's nowhere else to go with this joke.

Meanwhile, this same big rainstorm was much, much snow to the north and west, and Beff and Liz were supposed to drive to Burlington, Vermont to give a concert. Uh uh, said the weather. So they rescheduled for March 31. And because of that rescheduling, Beff and I will be interviewed, this afternoon, for the Vermont classical station. Who knows why?

Geoffytime is back with us, so much Musica Viva stuff is getting done -- concert coming up, as well as concerts in England, where Mikronomicon gets its east of the Atlantic premiere on the 27th. But am I bitter? Lick me and find out. No, wait ... So Geoffy was here for a rehearsal (luckily his drive was mostly on the rain side of the storm), and to commemorate that, Musica Viva FINALLY -- after more than three months -- sent me the CD of their November premiere of Mikronomicon. And when I opened the mailing bag, was less than happy to see that the USPS had managed to smash the case and CD inside it. Thankfully, when I asked for another, it got here right away (yesterday), and -- dudes and dudettes, you can see the score with the black link above and hear the three movements with the yellow links. As you may hear, the piano on which Geoff played could accurately be called "kindling". Nonetheless, it's pretty good for an underrehearsed first performance.

And Beff got here Friday morning, since the Vermont concert was cancelled. So we got to the Cast Iron Kitchen sufficiently late that we didn't get a booth, and we paid the last one-fifth of our winter's heating oil and scheduled regular furnace maintenance (currently the system overfills with water such that the pipes knock loudly when the heat comes on -- I hate it when that happens), and we took a nice walk. And yesterday I graded eight of the variations assignments that were handed in for Theory 2. So there. More to come.

Meanwhile, I'd heard nothing from Eastman about this thing I've been contracted to do in mid-April, so I was psychologically making that time free -- since Phillis Levin Songs is on in New York the following Monday -- but no, just in the nick of time, I got contacted yesterday about it, and ... woo hoo, April is the cruellest month! Kuhl. I will be driving there after class on the day before, thus getting there in the dark. I also realized, quite belatedly, that the big big big student composer concert coming up on May 8 is one I can't make. For you see, dear reader, the day before I will be driving to DC for "Current Conditions", and driving back on the day AFTER that concert will subsequently be done by me. Whoop tee doo, I always say, and that's French. So I'm making my apologies now.

And at the 'Deis, Cheryl moved from mailbox central to Scott's old office -- as Scott and Ingrid moved to Bernstein-Marcus -- and an old, old photo of Yehudi and me, ca. 1998, was found stuck inside one of the drawers of her desk. It was awarded to me with a Post-It attached. See below, you lucky dogs. And, and -- well, four more weeks of teaching till the next vacation, and then they'll be sorry. That's French. No trips in March, but lots of Geoffy around to kick. And if the date of this year's first crocuses is matched by last year's, they'll be out in a mere week. I haven't seen any crocus petals pushing forth yet, but you know. Perhaps on the next update there will be crocus pictures eerily similar to the ones seen in previous years in this space. And the scheduled date of the next update is the day we switch to Daylight Savings Time.

Today's pictures start with Sunny nuzzling the catnip patch, followed by an early morning shot of Cammy in which his eyes glow from the camera's flash. Next, the Ben Smith dam while the Assabet is in flood stage, Sunny watching Cammy nuzzle catnip, the bareness of the back yard, The Pickle Guys storefront, some drop pictures, and said Yehudi and me picture. Bye.

MARCH 13 Breakfast was Shaws lite rice link sausages, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was a grilled chicken salad with avocado, etc., at a Mexican restaurant in Tivoli, New York. Lunch was half a chicken panino and half a scallop cake at the Cast Iron Kitchen yesterday. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 22.6 and 57.6. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Get Away", Earth, Wind, and Fire. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE plumber $734, flat screen TV $426 inc. tax., yardwork stuff at hardware stores $142. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Dunn Oil, for telling us there was a defective "heating coil" in the hot water heater (no such luck), and that the hot water heater may have to be replaced. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Bard College Conservatory, for spawning an enthusiastic (and really loud) audience for mod music; and Best Buy, for prompt assistance with TV purchase without a hard sell for a more expensive one. PET PEEVE people whose response to music is couched entirely in political terms. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: One of the more exhilarating musical experiences of this millennium may have been on the day of readings of final projects for the undergrad composition course I taught at Harvard in 2001. Elliott Gyger had done a great job in his small sessions getting the projects rolling, and a quartet had been hired for a three-hour reading session. It turned out that at the reading all six pieces needed to be conducted, and we hadn't secured one. So I stepped in, rehearsed and conducted all three, and excuse me for breaking my arm while back-patting, I totally ruled. It was pretty exhilarating, and the recordings came out well. Especially since the players were all really good. And so given the opportunity to do such a thing again, fill in the blank. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: an occasional silent meow from Cammy, Sunny obsessed with the far-back neighbor's stored canoe and the dirt around it, both cats frolicking in the old catnip patch in back. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: criescensce, the art of being dead while seeming to be alive. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 9. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE One of the fonts of me and Klaus is apparently hardwired into some HP printers (I just found that out). WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: The truth actually sets you free. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14,539. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.56 in Maynard (Shaws $.10 discount), $2.57 in Maynard (Shaws $.10 discount), $2.97 in Red Hook, New York. THAT WHICH WAS NOT SPEWED sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.

Triple miles and purple shoes. Neither of them convinced me that I should stop whining about all the snails. Into which the glass was poured, though, is the piece I would shoot if I had hands. With blood working into the plastic systems, some of the other branching algorithms might have to be skewed in favor of the violet revolution; this is not my problem.

Dear reader, Beff has been on vacation for the last two weeks, and nearly always at home. Which is a pretty good indicater in and of itself that Beff is on vacation. Though she was gone for about 50 hours for things in Bangor related to things that have to be in Bangor. She's back, but soon to be unback. And so much of unusual size has been accomplished in the last couple of weeks, both creatively for Beff (who has done the lion's share of work on an orchestra-with-video piece in this time), and yardly for both of us, thanks to an unusually long string of good weather. And Beff is so upandat'em that she yearns to read a new update by he who is moi -- even though she's, like, been living it.

And on the weather front, we begin another one of those typical ohmigod that's a lot of rain and wind storms as I type this, with both wind and flood warnings up on the Them What Make pages. Though in the interim, there has been an unusually long string of beautifully sunny clear days with temps 5 to 15 degrees above seasonal averages, thus resetting my Spring Fever Gauge from Woo Hoo all the way up to Zowie Powie. Indeed, this wild wacky upside down winter (yes, it's still winter, for another week), Beltway weather has spawned numerous additional global warming skeptics, while New England weather has spawned lots of If This Is Winter I'll Take Two More Please. Last weekend we spent nearly every moment of daylight outdoors (except when we didn't), and hey -- the crocus record was shattered yet again.

As I reported last year around this time, the First Crocus date was March 7, shattering the old record by almost a week. In this reporting period, the first one was spied -- and, of course, photographed -- on March 2. All while I was getting e-mails from acquantances to our south and west complaining about how much snow there was there still to melt. Hee hee hee. I took crocus censuses (censi?) twice -- we had 93 by last Sunday and 226 by Wednesday. And on my non-teaching days we also did some yard work, which consisted of various rakage and picking up of acorns, and expanding the "new lawn" area near where the other section of fence was taken out (this involved shoveling and carting) -- see pic below of the expanded area, awaiting seeding and leveling at a future date. Also happening were the liberation of the Adirondack chairs -- it was so sunnily warm that we HAD to have a place to sit outdoors -- and the hammock, and even the bicycles. Yes, dear reader, I up and oiled the bicycle chains, inflated the tires, and a week ago today, Beff and I embarked on one of our baby bike rides -- the first of the season. We are terribly out of shape (even though we just got some new shape the other day ...). On Sunday I took another bike ride, in a different direction, even though Beff didn't. And, by the way, on Sunday we also went into Brookline for an Alvin Singleton premiere with the Walden Chamber Players (very cool) and took advantage of one thing we don't have in this area -- a good Chinese restaurant.

Meantime, Beff had a little oral surgery, and cuisine was adjusted around that healing. Our old ice packs of various stripes were rediscovered and put to use. And, uh, this should be in the previous paragraph, Beff teak-oiled the Adirondack chairs, which is something she does every other year. Also at various points she and I did plenty of rakage, thus bringing the 2009(!) raking season to a close, finishing at 114 barrels. Still six fewer than last year, but on the other hand, last year didn't have the buttload of pine cones and acorns with which to deal.

And Brandeisness? Art song in theory, plenty of the usual stuff with composition students, and plenty of extra office hours for the Theory 2 students -- including two tomorrow, since their songs are to be performed, in the concert hall, on Monday (mwa ha ha, I say, but then I have to take it back). Plus, I am on the committee to name my successor as the Reigning Lerman-Neubauer Teaching Award Guy, and that involves reading a lot of nominations -- which, as you might imagine, pretty much all read the same way.

Here I reiterate that it sure has been nice to be able to spend a lot of time outdoors. Zowie Powie.

And on the Friday of last week, we had received a new DVDVHS player for our system -- Beff ordered it online because our current DVD/VHS combo had a nasty habit of making you insert a DVD ten times before it would deign to recognize it. And we noticed, to our chagrin, that on the back it didn't have the right sorts of connections available for our current configuration. So we packaged it and sent it back, and resolved only to get something we could see physically -- such as at Best Buy. Beff looked up a bunch of possible DVD players online, and discovered that a lot of the cheaper flat screen TVs came with DVD players built in, and that was intriguing. She found a few passable ones on Best Buy, so off we went, stormed in, and discovered something pretty nice and not too big -- 30 inches, I think -- and brought it back and connected it. Since we have an internet/TV package that specifically pays for about 60 HD channels (the brochure was pretty subtle -- it says "INCLUDES 60 HD CHANNELS AT NO EXTRA COST TO YOU!!!!!!!!!!!), I thought it'd be cool to see various channels in full HD. And when I switched to such a channel, up came "HD settop box needed for this channel. Call 877- ...." Which I called, alas, to get into a morass of "we save money by making it impossible for you to talk to a real person, press 1 or 2 or 3 for about 20 or 30 more menus designed to make us not have to talk to you" options -- so I called the closest Verizon retail store, who said, "oh sure. Come on by. We'll swap your box right now. The box is $5 extra a month, and you'll get free HBO and Cinemax for 90 days, too." So there I went -- it's on Littleton right across from where we bought the Corolla -- and it was simple. Home we came, followed instructions, and .... zoom, SIXTY HD CHANNELS AT NO EXTRA COST plus the HBO and Cinemax channels in HD, too. Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working.

Meanwhile, on the Tuesday of my non-teaching day of this week, I was privileged to meet and spend time with I-Chen Yeh and her boyfriend Karl. Let me mention that it was sunny that day, which in this reporting period is an unremarkable statement. I-Chen and Karl are both in the contemporary performance DMA thing at Bowling Green State University, and -- zippity pow -- I-Chen's dissertation is about he who is moi. Thus in a two-pronged and very effective approach, she wanted to play some etudes for my commentary ("zippity pow" is just about what I said), and ask me questions for the written portion of the diss. I met the two of them at Brandeis and we went into the hall, where she played on the Steinway B and I made movies for YouTube (see the five red links in a row, on the left). Then the three of us joined Beff for Thai lunch in Maynard, and the questions got asked and somewhat answered. After all that, we did a tour of western exurbia and they got on a commuter rail at West Concord, destined for fine cuisine in the north end of Boston, somewhat unsurprisingly referred to by the locals as "The North End." I told her she could be on the list of etude-suggestors (or is it suggestErs?), and somewhere on down the line it looks like #95 will be for her. That's how good she is.

Meanwhile, at the end of this reporting period -- yesterday, to be exact -- I had been invited by Joan Tower to a concert at Bard College where another pianist -- a senior in the Bard Conservatory -- was doing three toods, and I accepted -- weather permitting. So in the morning was some (sigh) reading of teaching award nominations and a trip to Trader Joes; then Beff went to get some of her stitches out and I half-dined at the Cast Iron Kitchen -- I say half-dined because the schedule meant we couldn't both do lunch there and I got a small plate and a large plate and had half of each wrapped, which were a-awaiting Beff's return to be consumed. And meanwhile, Dunn Oil had been in and out trying to solve the extra-water situation in the furnace, and they punted to a plumber to do the nasty. Papalia Plumbing was secured for the 2-6 period, to be dealt with by Beff while I was on my trip to Bard. More on that later.

So I got my newer Garmin out -- which I had bought for the Sacramento trip, and which Beff had lent to her trumpetizing colleague Jack (whose last name also has four letters, all of them different), to get me onto the campus of Bard. I also did various printouts from Google Maps, who took me in a strange circuitous route that they said would take 3 hours 20 minutes. MWA ha ha, and I don't know why I say that, either. After I was on the way, I started the Garmin, which merely put a dot where I was, in the map of where I was, without refreshing my location as it changed (since I was, um, driving). And the caption was "Walking On Great Road". Punching in the destination of Bard and asking for direction yielded an endlessly spinning hourglass thing. So ... apparently the Garmin has a "walking and farting around" mode, which had been programmed by Jack, and in which I was trapped, so I went to all the settings and chose "Restore Original". Ah -- garish cartoon car, a blue one, on the route I was travelling, with appropriate screen updates. Excellent, Mozart.

And the Garmin instructed me off the interstate on the first exit in New York, and then took me on the strangest and most circuitous route possible -- up, down, through forests and neighborhoods -- and I thought it would send me onto the Taconic Parkway, but I noted that getting on the Taconic was unlikely as I passed under it with no entrance to be seen. One fact was incontrovertible -- on Route 9 in upstate New York, the locals interpret "SPEED LIMIT 55" as "nobody will mind if I do 35." They're very polite that way. But the Garmin did get me to the Bard area in good time, and pulled a neat trick. Just as I saw "Annandale Road" on the display and then read "Annandale Road" on a street sign as I passed it, the Garmin uttered, "in one mile, turn right on Annandale Road." Hmm, little phasing problem there, it would seem. Luckily, my obsessive visit to the area on the street view of Google Maps clued me in to the campus entrance across from a place called "Cappuccino's", and that happened ... IMMEDIATELY. Joan isn't the type of person to give you a lot of details, it would seem -- she just said "Olin Hall, 4:45", leaving me to do all the internet research to determine where such a thing would be and where I might park (but not where to park and not get towed), and I was ... PREPARED. Found it immediately. So I was early enough that I used the Garmin to find me a gas station -- which it did, a QuickMart in Red Hook, which, as I pulled in, had all the pumps covered with emergency tape. Hmm, a big WE HAVE NO GAS sign coulda helped. In any case, it then found me a Stewarts to sell me some gas at a Why I Never price, just so I could get back to Maynid without having to stop to fill up.

I got back and approached the Olin building, thus immediately hearing strains of music that sounded familiar. Oooh, I could hear, and see though a window, who was going to be playing FISTS OF FURY ... this would be cool. After a brief walk around campus (it kind of looks like Princeton on whatever the opposite of steroids is), I met all the people concerned, including the pianist, Ming Gan, who was ready to play for me, while one of the big muckity-mucks for mod music piano -- Blair McMillen -- turned pages! He did Gliss at a breakneck tempo which really swung, Stretch, and Fists, all really good, on a Steinway D with a boomy bass register. And on each fist stroke I thought the piano was going to break in half (or thirds, or quarters -- it's all a matter of leverage and stress points, dontcha know). After the dress, Joan took a bunch of us out to Mexican in Tivoli -- the next town to the north, which looked like a funky mini-Berkeley on the opposite of steroids -- and then soon we were done. I got to hear dress rehearsals of some big pieces by John Halle and Dan Becker, both of them very cool (John's had a thematic lick that reminded me of Earth, Wind and Fire), and then there was the concert itself. Three youngsters, three middle agers, and two grand old men -- those two being Foss and Corigliano (the latter of whom was supposed to attend but became too ill to). All the performances were standouts, and the audience -- mostly conservatory students and local oldsters -- was extremely enthusiastic, to the point of whooping and shouting, and dogs and cats sleeping together. Such enthusiasm was welcome, and frankly weird.

After the show, I excused myself in order to drive back and get ahead of the weather -- did I mention flood and wind warnings? Joan had offered her place for the night, but I declined in order to do a half hour or so of hydroplaning on the Taconic Parkway before I exceeded the storm's edge (in terms of distance), and otherwise except for me being a bit tired, my drive was uneventful. Though dark. I returned to that which I like to call "our house, in the middle of our street, our house, in the middle of our, our house, in the middle of our street" at 1:15 a.m. Then I slept until I stopped.

In the meantime, while I was a-driving, and occasionally talking to Beff on the cell phone, the plumber guy had been here and explained in the most soothing language possible that a sort of scraping thing that is supposed to happen in the boiler to the furnace every 2 or 3 years needed to be done, and of course nobody ever explained that to us and we've been here 10 years ... and that the problem was not the (as it turns out) nonexistent coil in the hot water heater, which doesn't need replacing. Neither did the antifreeze (or what they called "the steam clean water treatment" (?)) that had been added to the furnace by the Dunn people make any sense without that scraping thing. Which, by the way, is 400 bucks a pop. Meanwhile, the old faucet -- VERY old faucet -- in the bathtub had been dripping and dripping for a long time, and we finally took care of that. POOF! It's gone.

Today, the big storm winds up right over us, and Beff and I did a walk before it got too bad. At The Faucetorium, on our walk, we also bought little things to cap the holes in the old tub left behind by the sudden nonexistence of the faucets. They turn out to work.

And now just two weeks of classes before my next academic vacation, and that will be good. Well, the end of those two weeks, anyway. During that time I'll be able to continue the Ladies Who Lunch thing, and possibly embark on #95, or not. This Tuesday is my cleaning at the dentist as well as the Lerman-Neubauer meeting. And otherwise, it's just a nice two weeks waiting to end. Soon it will be behind me.

And in this reporting period, Eric Chasalow and I had to powow (spelled upside down is mommod) for a composer of unusual stature to take my place in my sabbatical year such that the program would continue to be first tier -- and we are both ecstatic that Mindy Wagner will do that. And probably even staying in this very house when she is in town to teach. Zowie Powie!

This week's pictures begin with the first (March 2) crocus picture of 2010, followed by a picture from 93-crocus day. We continue to Beff in an Adirondack chair soon after getting the oral surgery, and the new bit of yard after the first day's work (it's a bit bigger now). Follow that with Beff in outdoor cleaning mode (she teak-oiled the gazebo table, too), and the new HD TV when it was first set up. Next the back yard with Sunny barely visible, and my customary first-beer-in-the-hammock photo (on first-day-wearing-sneakers day). Then we have Cammy getting zonked in the catnip patch, and Sunny sleeping in the open window seat window. Bye.

MARCH 28 Breakfast was Shaws Shaw's lite sausage pucks with cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner was Polish fries and snacky chicken. Lunch was Campbell's Chunky Chicken soup. Neither Shaws nor Campbell's has paid a promotional fee for inclusion here, and why not? TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 22.6 and 70.3. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS A Police tune whose name I do not know offhand. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE nothing significant, but it's a-comin' COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY The oil company (mentioned by name last week, but not this) for general lack of competence. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY The Concord public works people for what must have been many days worth of pumping of water to make Route 117 naviagable again. PET PEEVE spring rainstorms coinciding with atmospheric blocks. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was a kid -- maybe third, fourth, fifth grade -- the family went camping in commercial campsites in Vermont (especially Island Pond) and we slept in a blue tent-trailer. During those times I had recurring dreams that I had good friends from Jupiter that I played with regularly. After the family stopped doing the camping trips, I stopped having the dreams. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy inching his way further and further into the backyard and then running back to the house at fullt throttle. Repeat. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: orahshi, a now-discredited practice of gold-plating newborns. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 3. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE My thumbs bend back at a 90 degree angle. Well, my right thumb does. The left is more like 45. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Subtext becomes text, then subtext again. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14,581. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.67 in Maynard. WHEN YOU THINK OF CRIESCENCE, THINK OF THESE sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.

Dear reader, there has been much rain of late, as well as yet more weather of unusual gorgeousness, and the rain has apparently been violent enough to cause Tea Party-style reactions, as witnessed on the banner on the Them What Make page.

At least the shooting is probably limited to the state of Massachusetts. Which is, after all, largely Democratic.

For those of you that are expecting it, or who tune in specifically for it, here's the Dada of Today: Smurfs made me appreciate refrigeration. I know precisely eight (give or take seven) people who, if I said that, would respond, "You could use that for a title." And I would sigh and utter, "trading spaces with a king makes Davy a dull boy." Then we would go off in all directions, one of them poopy.

Let the vacation begin, say I. Which is odd, because it already has. Yes, the much expected, much hoped for, and easily predicted Passover vacation is under way, and of course that means a bit of what I like to call "composition" is under way, too. The last two weeks of teaching have been routine, so they say in Saskatchewan, as we've moved from song performances to post-tonal analysis. Such analysis is always fun, since every piece seems to have its own rules while also making nods to rules already learned but being broken because they can be. And as rewards for their perseverence through difficult composition and performance projects, they all got cheapo little laser pointers from the Dollar Store. Time will tell if that was a bad idea, but it was cute on the first day to watch a class of 16 attempt to draw, collectively, the big dipper on the board, with red laser dots. If I ever do this again, I may need to DRAW the big dipper for them to have a template. And in any case, the composer of note has been Debussy, and that's fun. And really, really hard. Not to mention, French.

Meanwhile, the MFA candidates in the composition program are doing their general exams. I chose the rep this year, so they have 10 days to get to know, and write about, the finale of the Emperor Quartet, and the 24th prelude of Debussy. Only one of which I have blithely stolen.

Meanwhile, about eleven inches of rain has fallen since the last update (according to the Them What make page), with (according to NECN) another three to five on the way in the next 72 hours. Oh joyness of all joyness. The last time I sat here typing this thing, the first rainstorm, which exploded into an ocean storm and then got stalled by the atmospheric block, was just beginning, and it went pretty seriously for about sixty-eight and a half hours, finally dumping eight or nine inches. For only the third time in the ten years we've had the house, I heard regular occurrences of the sump pump going on and off (because, duh, the ground was so saturated that water got into the basement) -- the "off" being something that tended to shake the entire house a tiny bit -- and by Tuesday morning, by which time the storm was over, Route 117 was covered in three places by one to two feet of water that was really part of a giant puddle spanning both sides of the road. Indeed, even the parking lot for the hiking paths I pass on the way to work was completely full of water -- that would be about three or four feet of it -- with the puddle continuing over the actual road. I imagine this had to be pumped dry over the course of many, many days. The aggravating part was mulifold: having to go into Brandeis on a non-teaching day (I was on the committee to choose my successor as the Lerman-Neubauer Prize Laureate), going through the deep water at a prudent speed while vans or trucks went full bore in the other direction (thus causing splashes of unusual size), and waiting for drivers ahead of you to navigate the puddles while everyone behind was thinking "shit or get off the pot!" That thought is, of course, a metaphorical one, as it nearly always is.

By Wednesday (usually the day that comes after Tuesday), Route 117 was closed, as were several other routes going towards the 'Deis, so all the traffic had to funnel onto Route 2. This route took no longer to drive during my usual dark morning commute, but at other times, it was frightfully slow. My 25-minute ride home from Brandeis that Wednesday thus took 55 minutes, which sucked because I was trying to get home for some serious hammock time, 'cause like the weather got warm again. And the commute back on Thursday morning was another hour-long affair, as I discovered that West Concord was jammed up two miles in advance of the entrance to Route 2. I of course used the back roads to get to Route 2 (being a local, I know all the secret ways), which was also heavy and slow -- but strangely clear after Emerson Hospital. Why?

Harold Meltzer came into town to do a colloquium on that Thursday, and he himself encountered two major jams in New York, but made it on time anyway, and the colloquium was well-received. One of the many casualties of the financial crisis was our practice of taking colloquium guests to dinner, so after Harold's reception, I took him out, my expense, to the Cast Iron Kitchen. Leaving an hour after rush hour, I figured an hour would be plenty of time to get there, so the reservation was made for 7. We made it at 7:30. Why? Route 126, which passes by Walden Pond, was jammed for two and a half miles before the entrance to Route 2, and it's a short light there. The amusing part was as we were stalled in front of Walden Pond, Harold calling me on his cell and asking, "is that Walden Pond?" And I responded affirmatively, also noting that the location of Sam and Laurie's wedding was also nearby. That picture of me on this site with a little bread thing on my face came from that wedding, and boy have I changed the subject here. Zoom back! Harold had the sparerib at dinner. I didn't.

And soon after Harold went back to New York, Geoffy came in for a tour of duty, and he had to be coached on getting into Boston via other-than-usual routes. And even Beff, who had more stitches to be taken out in Lexington, had to do it. Geoffy went early enough to avoid the big West Concord traffic jam. Beff didn't. But we ate at the CIK at our normal time, and we had the booth. Woo hoo. By Sunday, Route 117 in Concord was STILL closed, so on my Monday morning commute I started out on Route 62 -- the detour -- only to hear on WBZ radio that the road was reopened. So take it I did, and there was no getting off the pot to be done.

Meanwhile, it's been more strange springness -- NECN commented that there were forty-six consecutive days of above-normal or normal temperatures here, which would explain the earliness of the crocuses, as well as the sucky year for Vermont maple syrup. The syrup story was in the New York Times, so it must be true. And in the nice weather that's been in between the War-Making storms, I expanded the "new yard" area and got ready for planting grass seed. Which will happen soon, I promise. I don't lie about stuff like that. And the weather allowed me to take my third, fourth and fifth March bike rides, thus equalling or surpassing my total number of March bike rides in the eight years that preceded this one. Wu hu!

Meantime, Beff is here for this weekend, too, and is leaving a bit early to catch the Portland (Maine) Symphony with Chris Thile. Whose name I would put on my list if I only knew the guy. The latest bit of rain, a small one, ushered in a two-day cold snap, which gave us the ability to do a visit to downtown Concord with temps in the 30s during the day. At least it was sunny. And otherwise. We watched Broadcast News and Where The Wild Things Are during meals. And about the latter movie -- it was a high-budget arthouse movie, and I couldn't help going, "WTF???" about once every ninety seconds. Sorry, not a big Sendak fan.

Meanwhile, Geoffy had been here for three days of Musica Viva rehearsals, followed by a flight to London to join Musica Viva for a three-day thingy-dingy at King's Place to be capped off with a performance of my own "Mikronomicon". On Tuesday, after all the musicians had gotten maybe an hour of sleep after a redeye, they were live on BBC3 radio, where they gallantly and expertly played two movements of Mikey Gandolfi's "Grooved Surfaces" and the third movement of "Mikronomicon". After the latter performance, the announcer remarked "All the energy of the New World." And the British journalist who was in town in November for the Viva concert with Mikronomicon on it, and who interviewed a bunch of folks here (Obamaspeak), published an article in the London Times laying down the gauntlet about how American composers have official permission to have fun in their music and Brits aren't, and yours truly got quoted several times. I have not put a link to that article to the left because that would be like orahshi, only different.

As I type this, I hear Beff practicing downstairs, and out come the strains of "The Squeaky Wheel" on E-flat clarinet. It's very hard, very fast, and very octatonic. Which is the case for all my E-flat clarinet pieces that were written in less than three hours. And Beff is playing it in Burlington (Vermont) on Wednesday night in a duo concert with Liz. Meanwhile, she has come close to finishing her orchestra piece with video that is about trains. So there.

Meawhile, the furnace saga was punted to plumbers, and it looks like when heating season is over, we get a new boiler and maybe new water heater ($$$$, $$$, and $$) and will likely convert to natural gas heat. As for the time being, the current boiler overfills because of a leak in the "tankle$$ coil" (which the Dunn Oil people have said does not exist). So now every day I flush the furnace, which yields maybe 2 or 3 gallons of extra steamy water that would go through the radiators and make them knock ("Who's there?" I always say, to more knocking, meaning the radiators are as bad as 3-year-olds at telling jokes), and, for the time being, carrying it all out to dump into a woodchuck hole. Just in case any woodchuck was thinking of reusing it. And speaking of $$$, enough slate tiles have fallen off the roof in the last five years that we are asking Maynard Door and Window to replace them -- "we now have a leak" being the camel's back-breaking straw. The other back-breaking straw is that birds are nesting in one of the gaps left by an exiting tile, and the noise they made made me think we had mice in the attic, and the poison I left for them, being as they are nonexistent, went unconsumed.

What a paragraph!

I have begun work on Etude #95, having officially put in two days on it. It's for I-Chen, of the red links to the left, and I let her suggest the "idea" as well as her "favorite notes". It has been very hard to write, since I'm combining uneven repeated notes and fast swirls, and that's ... uh, counterpoint. But it's got some stuff in it for discussion in grad seminars -- namely two chords that get built up and down that are also middleground lines, also going up and down. End of grad seminar discussion. Important notes: G below middle C and F an octave and a seventh higher. And no, there's no uber-soprano line doing the beginning of the old Star Trek theme, or "Somewhere" from West Side Story. And why not, you may ask. As of this date, no title yet. But that's always the case. And soon, only FIVE etudes left to write, all time. MWA ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha (burp) ha ha.

After this vacation week, my schedule a-splode. Utah. Rochester. New York City. Extra extra office hours. End of school. Start the huge pile of writing for the sabbatical year. New York, Hudson. And ah ... vacation time in Vermont. Where we plan not to buy any local syrup. But that's a bit far in advance. More locally ... plant grass, get mint and catnip to plant, plant that, too. More big rain on the way this week, though since I don't have to get to Brandeis it's not a big deal. And NECN speculated it may be 80 by Saturday. Doubting it is done by me.

This week's pictures begin with more spring a-sploding -- the first beer-in-the-gazebo shot, the rhubarb reaching the scrotal stage, Sunny viewed from the bathroom window, the Ben Smith dam at flood stage, some of the new future yard area, the sticky A-220 on the piano (memo to I-Chen: thanks for not choosing that note), Beff and the Concord cemetary, an unfortunate gravestone in the Concord cemetary. Bye.

APRIL 10 Breakfast was grapefruit, Trader Joe's French toast, strawberries, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner was snacky chicken with sauteed portabello 'shrooms. Lunch was blackened swordfish and scallop cake. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 36.5 and 87.6. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The Come to Jesus tune by Adam Guettel. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE parking at Logan airport, $96. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY US Airways, but it's not bad news -- just blah, bland. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY The Greek restaurant near the University of Utah -- one of what is no more than two nearby edible options. PET PEEVE really long red lights. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: One of the RA's in the dorm where I stayed during the Summer 1975 "Summer Music Session for High School Students" at the University of Vermont was Dennis Taylor, a sax player. Who was pretty cool. I ramped up my compositional activity that summer, and before the session was over he asked me to write him a piece. So that September I did, for sax and piano, and a lot of it was in 5/8, which I thought made me look really smart. I also played a little tune of Beff's called "Call" for orchestration class of the Summer Session, and this would have been the first time I met here. Off is what we did not hit it. I sent the sax piece to Dennis, and he never acknowledged it. It was one of those "get used to it, dude" moments. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They've been to Bangor and back during the update, and of course upon their return they were very needy, and going in and out, in and out a lot. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Reviews 5. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: daruska, the inedible part of a lamb shank. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 6. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE Beff doesn't think I throw away old socks and underwear quickly enough. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: When someone says up is down and/or down is up, he or she is immediately corrected. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14,582. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.85 at the Exxon in Acton, including $.10 per gallon extra for using a credit card. Why, I never. A DAY WITHOUT ORANGE JUICE IS A DAY YOU WON'T FIND THESE sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.

As I type this, it is one of those hypercloudy, hypersunny (stripy that way, in the sense of striped time -- polka-dotted time is far more difficult) spring days that's kind of cool and windy, which makes the cats want to sit in the window, run away from it, sit in it, run away from it, etc. Beff and I have already been out and about, but mostly about, which is fine, since it seems that about anything is not what this paragraph is. So far.

Much has transpired since the last update, at which time my Passover vacation was beginning. Baby, that's gone, and the home stretch, for what it is, is that which we are in. And also, the beginning of "my schedule a-splode" has happened. And I have traveled more than five thousand miles in that time. But maybe more a-splain. Another one of those stalled storms passed by and flooded up the joint again, though not much at all in my neighborhood. Down theres in Rhode Island, it was called a "two hundred year" flood, which is pretty dire -- local news showed (formerly) paved roads that pretty much took the shape of complex sand dunes. And I presume that my route to work was closed off, again, which was not an issue because I was on vacation. Hey wait -- "vaca" means cow, and does that mean I was spending cow time?

So, being as I was vacationing, I spent time writing. And I wrote etude #95 for I-Chen Yeh, finishing it just before the end of the month. Dear reader, I am not posting a copy here because internet trawlers are now sucking up posted files and re-re-re-re-posting them in other places, and I think I'd rather keep control of who has copies and how and why and when and of and for and at. But said etude was generally laid out by I-Chen ("Ravel-like with fast harmonic rhythm" and I like G below middle C and the F almost two octaves higher than that), which turned into "uneven repeated notes and swirls"), and it pretty durn hard. Because of its zephryish nature, I called it "Flit". Which is about as close as I can come in one syllable to describing the motion of a moth around a light in the night. So there. And there. And there. And, again, there.

And finishing that sucker forced me back on my arrangement of/meditation on "The Ladies Who Lunch", which had been totally kicking my butt. Ah, if I had a nickel for every time Beff said, "you mean it's not done yet?" ... In any case, I got an unexpected breakthrough simply by starting a generic groove for an untroubled and untroubling pass through the third verse, and gradually it got swingier and stridier until it got to the tritone substitution chord, and sounded very Tatumesque, indeed. That would be Art Tatum, not Tatum O'Neal, but on the other hand, I don't know if she plays the piano. Then I built in some comedy (unresolved appoggiaturas to the dominant that represent, uh, tipsiness, I guess), and ... vacation ended. Or, at the very least, Beff got in for the weekend, and frolicky stuff had to be done.

So Beff and I did our usual stuff like Cast Iron Kitchen, watching TV episodes on a laptop, doing the long walks for exercise, etc. I planted a buttload of grass seed in various patch places in the backyard, including the "new yard" area under the stand of pines. And then, despite still being on vacation, I had to pack, to go to Utah. This was the beginning, thereof, of schedule a-splode. I had a 6:10 flight from Logan Airport to Phoenix, and a connecting flight to Salt Lake City, and there were no prisoners to be taken, even though I know that's a non sequitur (I hope to get some more non sequiturial work this summer). For you see, and you will, Oscar, you will, I was slated as the Maurice Abravanel Distinguished Visiting Woo Hoo Guy for Monday and Tuesday, which were the last two days of my vacation. And since I would be gone, Beff took the cats with her to Bangor for the week (I'm sure they love being in a box for four hours, twice in the same week). And, oh yes. Alarm going off at 3 am on Easter Sunday.

So the trip to the airport and the flights themselves were undistinguished and unnotable, save for the fact that I haven't flown US Airways for a while (the U of Utah made the reservations), and won't again for some time. One characteristic of taking USAir from Logan Airport is the long, long, long, long and circuitous hike from central parking to the terminal, as well as the completely blah character of the terminal itself. Though it was nice that the Boston to Phoenix flight was about a quarter full, thus meaning we could have played shuffleboard on the plane had we been so inclined. And the drinks service took about a minute and a half. Then, of course, I got to indulge in the new nothing-included ethos that is consuming airlines -- heck, even a pillow was seven bucks. Well, I spent nothing going out, but six bucks for the cheese and fruit selection, also known as "a seventy nine cents worth of cubed cheese and grapes", on the return. "Sky Harbor Airport" in Phoenix is another airport to avoid, mostly because of the silly structure -- essentially a mile-long rod with four spokes emanating, on which all the gates are put. The silly airport directed me to my connecting flight at the far end of that rod, which, as I got to it, announced that the connecting flight was leaving from a different gate -- w-a-a-ay at the other end of the airport. Thus about 25 minutes of my 55 minute connecting time gap were spent walking, fast, with a heavy computer bag. The pilot explained, after we boarded that "the jet stream winds are very fast today, so by the time we got in our gate was taken." Fill in the three missing logical steps on your own.

I was starving by the time I deplaned (I like that word, and I hate it), so I hopped into Burger King for a coupla cheezboigas, my phone rang, and it was Morris Rosenzweig's TA David Snedegar, arranging my pickup. So I got my bag, got to the University Guest House, where I would spend three nights, and frolicked as much as I could, given that I was in a guest room at the University Guest House. I am accustomed to flying into Utah when it 100 degrees (early August, Barlow Board), and it was a mere 45 degrees and the mountains were mostly covered with white -- so it was a new experience. I got a nice view of some distant mountains that don't photograph well because of their distance, but you know, there you have it. And Morris picked me up for an excellent Chinese meal in the SLC downtown.

My two days of residency included nine composition lessons, coaching performers, doing lunch with the other composition faculty, and a public talk. Dear reader, I haven't made light of my TMJ in this space for a number of years now -- I've been doing the stoic Vermonter thing, and since I'm a native, I'm pretty good at it -- but the TMJ thus made the two days more ordealish than otherwise. But I made it through partially scathed, and was glad for it all to be done. In a sign that this is a very, very good program, all nine composers were very different and had very different approaches, and I don't know how helpful I was to all of them, but I did my darnedest (more stoic Vermonter there). Amusingly, a lot of composers brought in recordings to play from their phones, and I was totally down wid dat.

So my Monday lunch was with Steve Roens (five plus five!) and Tuesday with Miguel Chuaqui (six plus seven!), both at a really nice Greek place. On Monday afternoon, after five lessons, I was to coach a piano trio, a clarinet and piano, and three piano etudes -- one of them a premiere! With the same pianist for all three, an Uncle Jed. Who was terrific. Though he apparently didn't get the etude to be premiered in time to learn it. So no premiere -- just two tudes with Rick Moody all over them (Rick's Mood, Moody's Blues). The performances were quite good, and I had to give live program notes before each of my pieces, and it was cool. Though a slightly unpredicted SNOWSTORM of significant dimension started just at dusk on that same night, thus presumably keeping attendance down. Besides my pieces, there was the solo percussion piece by Yu-Hui, and a few pieces with large numbers of short movements.

So after all was said, done, said, and done again, there was the Piano Concerto Made From Tudes talk, dinner with Morris and his wife Mary Jane at a Neapolitan pizza place, and on Wednesday morning I had tea and coffee with John Costa, who then drove me airportwards. John and I talked about the Boston area (Taunton is his base) and History of Rock and Roll courses. And speaking of Boston, a midsummer day hit here while I was Salt Lake and it was clear but 45 degrees. When I got on my connecting flight in Phoenix (my walk to it being a mere fifteen minutes), the captain said, "... and the weather in Boston is high thin clouds with the incredible temperature of 90 degrees". Wow, I thought to myself, and then said out loud, and then thought to myself again. And I missed it! Seunghee was taking my Theory 2 class and I could only imagine that thus the temperature of the classroom would have been around 100. MWA ha ha I say, and then think to myself, and then think to myself again.

So my plane got back just a little bit early, but that earliness was more than made up for by the sl-o-o--o-owness of US Airways' baggage handlers. I have been spoiled lately by United and American, with flights wherein the baggage is already on the carousel by the time you get to it. Not the case now, and my entertainment in the eighteen minutes I stood waiting for the carousel to start (by which time it was on a different carousel than the one that had said "FLIGHT FROM PHOENIX"), there was a guy cursing left and right on his bluetooth-enabled cell phone. Time of plane arrival at gate: 11:13. I got my bag at: 11:47. The walk back to my car was, as usual, epic. But I was in the house by 12:35 and I opened not one, not two, not three, not four, but five windows for overnight. The temperature: 72 degrees. I helped myself to a glass of leftover wine and then checked on our soon-to-be-dead furnace in the basement. Turns out one should never do this while enjoying a refreshing glass of wine. Because there was a mini-stream of moisture leading from the furnace to the sump pump area and an outtake valve was leaking. I flushed the furnace of TEN GALLONS it had overfilled (sigh), put a little thingie under the valve leak, and emptied the flushed water into the kitchen sink. Normally I empty that water into the pine tree area outside, but the smell of skunk made it clear that I may encounter such a thing if I went outside. So.... I made it to bed by a quarter to two, and just barely got out of bed in time to get to Brandeis for my makeup teaching, beginning at ten.

And so I did. And there were no floody detours to Brandeis. I saw who I had to saw, came home, and enjoyed the hammock. Friday was Beff's day to drive back, and it was also makeup teaching in the morning for me, so in I went, back I came. I got the cats from their carriers at 12:15 -- which is when Beff got in -- and Beff had to go for one last meeting with the oral surgeon. At 2 she was back and we did the Cast Iron Kitchen. The rest of the day was a Relax Day. And watch the cats go from place to place with even shorter attention spans than is customary for them. Today we went to Staples and Trader Joes and took a brief walk by a pond with a house built nearby. And I got off a MacDowell application for around the Thanksgiving-Christmas time. So there. And wow -- with the many rains and then a summer's day, suddenly the leaves exploded on the trees, and it got green and flowery around here pretty quickly.

Meanwhile -- finally, 13 months after it happened, I got from Judy Bettina the recording of the premiere of Phillis Levin Songs by Collage at Longy. One may remember that it happened mere hours after I returned from a residency in Cleveland, thus meaning I had no input into the performance. At the time I didn't like the songs so much, but they didn't outright suck. And I refused to place blame on the performance (it's a buttstik, dontcha know). I had to screw in all my courage to listen to them, since Judy is doing them again in -- whoa, nine days! -- in New York, and she wanted to know what I wanted to change. So, sighingly, I listened. And they do not suck. Some are actually pretty good. And of course Judy is great. We came up with a few things to be done differently, I think, so it should be smashing in New York.

Speaking of smashing. Mikronomicon got done by Musica Viva in England, and I heard it went smashingly, even though nobody reviewed their THREE concert residency. Limeys. Can't live with 'em, can't make 'em take out the trash.

I also know that I will be at Yaddo from October 4 to November 14, and that I will spend about three months of my leave at the Camargo Foundation, in the south of France, in the spring. Now, in the immortal words of Leejay Hyla, I have to brush up on my froggie.

My schedule continue to a-splode, what with Admitted Students Day at Brandeis this Monday, mini-residency at Eastman on Thursday (I'm driving there during the day and returning the next day), Phillis Levin Songs in New York on Monday and who KNOWS when I'll get time to hear a rehearsal of that, and more makeup teaching, and, and ... wow. And of course, we need a new furnace. Sighingly said.

And Easter happened, thus Lent ended. And back on Facebook got I. Thus being reminded of why I frequently find reasons to leave it.

Today's pix start with yet another example of what is wrong with US Airways. Then a bunch of hastily taken shots from the cloudy part of this morning -- the forsythia and rhododendron, the house by the pond where we walked, old railroad tracks, daffodils, the "new yard area", and two stills of super-Cammy from an iPod nano movie taken in February and just rediscovered. Bye.

APRIL 24 missing

MAY 11 Breakfast was a potato pancake, orange juice and coffee. Lunch was a chicken vegetable soup and a Buffalo tender wrap at the River Rock Grill. Dinner last night was mahi mahi and chicken burgers. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 30.9 and 90.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Current Conditions. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE New lawnmower (and lawnmower oil) $205 incl. tax. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Brandeis University, for holding classes all the way to May 5. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Famous Dave's Barbecue in Oakdale, Virginia for the food and the very spicy bloody Maries. PET PEEVE The New Jersey Turnpike. All of it. Every last centimeter. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I sucked as a beginning swimmer. Perhaps I was ... six? In swim lessons for a whole summer all I and one friend got through was rhythmic breathing, #2 of about 15 things to become a certified "Beginner". And of course it wasted my parents' money -- unless that was a free thing from the city, dunno. I finally figured it out at the Island Pond campground's lake, where I floated for the first time, figured out the stroke, and ... started swimming. I went all the way through Advanced Beginner and Intermediate the following summer. Lesson learned: leave me alone and I'll eventually figure it out myself. And waste your money. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Sunny batting around a field mouse, Sunny running in from the cedars, Cammy being confused about the tree people. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances, Home. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: snurl, a sound halfway between a snore and a snarl. Not recommended for children under 12. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 11. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I like hot pickles. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Eye-rolling dancing -- think about it. Now stop. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14,646. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.87 in Maynard, $2.79 on the New Jersey Turnpike, $2.79 on the New Jersey Turnpike. WHEN YOU THINK OF TORCHES, DON'T THINK OF THESE sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.

Trollops repeat, ships don't sink, I didn't have the idea to be freedom's muse. Barcaloungers are called that because of the stork. Whenever they made pie, they made more, and that reminded me to find a mosquito for cassette spooking. Then everything became one, and we pronounced it to rhyme with "bone". Which itself rhymes with "zmurp". Except Fridays, monsterbaby. Not Gil Harel, though.

When last this intrepid typist was seen intrepidly typing, he was typing in first person. Why third person now? No reason. At the time I was gearing up for the last stuff in Theory 2, and that I did teach. In fact, on that last Monday in April it was a nice sunny warm forecast, while all the rest of the class days were predicted rainy or coldish (the prediction turned out to be wrong, oh them what make). So I always promise one class outdoors in the spring, and that day was the day. It was atonal and twelve-tone day, so I brought our 100-foot extension cord, our Bose acoustic wave thing for playback, I brought out my battery-powered 5-octave keyboard, and several students (not Gil Harel, though) retrieved the rolling blackboard -- and chalk -- from the basement of Slosberg. And there I talked, and made points about combinatoriality and derivation, and played my only 12-tone piece -- Overderive. Which received the customary comment "it doesn't sound 12-tone". Which of course is always my cue to make a larger point, and just what that point is changes every year. This year the larger point was fish. Or, should I say, ghoti?

Wednesday in class was student-motivated (Prokofiev and Vaughan Williams), and the following Monday was performances of the class's final projects -- everything from rap with a soft-listening backdrop to jazz to complex piano stylings. And back. And of course the final day of classes -- May 5! -- we did pizza and stuff, I reviewed augmented triads for them what wanted it, played some Gabriel Kahane, then put my red death mask and blue wig on and launched into a bunch of a cappella Jesus Christ Superstar. I mean -- wouldn't you? The reason for the disguise, of course, was deniability. Since I'm sure everyone with video on their phone (not Gil Harel, though) was making a document of the occurrence. And then ... class was over, save for the final papers.

Also during that first week was the Pacific Rim Festival's go at Brandeis, so Hi Kyung Kim and the Contemporary Ensemble of Korea and the Del Sol String Quartet (but not Gil Harel), and some students from USCS were around for two days of madcap funness! And the Lyds were there, too, paired with the Korean players on the Monday night show -- Laurie San Martin had an uncommonly good piece on that show. My piece was done by the HaeGeum person and a trio from the Del Sol on Tuesday night, and it was good. I actually got to coach it, and it didn't suck anywhere near as much as it could have. In fact, it's pretty nice in the parts that don't suck. The HaeGeum player gave me a gift of red ginseng tea, and the Del Sol performers were fantastic. See the red "AhChim AnGae"link to the left below -- it's had the 60-cycle hum digitally removed by a computer owned and operated by me. Gil Harel (not Gil Harel, though) very nicely gave me the performance recording almost immediately, in return for plenty of mentions in this space.

Meanwhile, those red PLS links to the left are still the 2009 Collage performances of Phillis Levin Songs, as the NYNME hasn't sent me their performance recording yet. I mean, come on. Come on, I mean. Mean on, come I. Not Gil Harel, though. If I do get the recording, I will replace the Collage ones with the NYNME ones over there.

And in the meantime, Our 3-year old lawnmower started leaking oil profusely, leaving behind some messy stains on the floor of the storage shed which I had to wipe up pretty frequently. So, given how cheap lawnmowers are to buy compared to how expensive they are to fix -- I up and got a new one, for less than the cost of fixing the old one. This one was -- even cheaper than the last one, and works better -- even has adjustable wheel height, unlike the last one, and the gas pumping thing that actually works. And it's yellow. I never owned a yellow lawnmower before. Neither have you, dear reader. Possibly Gil Harel, though.

I finally got some time, again, to work on my styling of Ladies Who Lunch, so instead of going to the Festival of the Arts events, I up and worked on that, finally finishing it about half a week ago. Now our long national nightmare is over. Not Gil Harel, though. Finale plays the sucker in about five and a half minutes, which means that with proper rubato it's more like six to six and a half. Now I can do some real composition, whatever that is.

And in the meantime, Beff's school finished and she even did her commencement -- robe is back, since I'm doing the Brandeis commencement with that same silly black and orange Princeton robe, but not until the 23rd. I mean, really. Oh yes, and the week before all of that it was nice weather, so bike rides were done by us. We discovered a new medium-length route through the wildlife preserve -- which has a new pristine visitor's center! -- but had bits of sand on some of the paths. Beff fell off her bike at one point in the sand and got a big boo-boo. So things that were fun were now less fun. Not Gil Harel, though.

The new cappuccino/espresso maker arrived, and we have had some nice coffee and steamed milk from it. I haven't located any really good coffee beans for espresso the way I like it yet -- Illy and Lavazza just ain't doin' it for me. I got some espresso stuff at Trader Joe's that is better than those, but I'm not where I want to be yet. So I am on the prowl for good stuff. Not Gil Harel, though.

On the day after the last day of classes, I taught nonetheless, to make up for the day I was at Eastman. Then on Friday I up and drove to Burke, Virginia, to stay with Ultimate Colonel Colburn and the family, as I had a part in a gig with the Marine Chamber Orchestra. Indeed, it was a children's concert with a very sophisticated structure, and it was played to the hilt by those who even know what a hilt is (I was privy to rehearsal recordings on the intertubes, and it was sounding hot, hot, hot). But first things first. After my arrival, Mike and I had the usual conversations about music and composers, Jack and Claire tried to entertain me and I said they didn't have to, Mike made steak on the grill for dinner, and we watched the DVD of The Fabulous Mr. Fox. Not Gil Harel, though.

On Saturday there was a thunderstorm in the morning, after which it became brightly sunny and very windy. We took the opportunity to do a tourist thing and check out the old town of Alexandria. Including getting to climb on and about a tall ship. I had a salmon sandwich. Then we watched some planes take off from Reagan Airport from the neighboring park, and came home. And I took the whole family out to Famous Dave's Barbecue, which included me having two excellent, excellent Bloody Maries -- and Nancy having two big, big margaritas. Not Gil Harel, though. And then we stopped.

Sunday was the day of the gig, and I was to come on stage toward the end wearing my blue wig, and I had a few lines with some very long sentences to say. So let me explain the setup. It sounds hackneyed, but it was anything but. There were programs and "Clue Books" handed out. The clue books showed the VICTIM -- Beethoven -- and six SUSPECTS: Bach, Haydn, Tchakovsky, Stravinsky, Bernstein, and Rakowski, representing 230 years of classical music. Jason Fettig conducted and narrated (he also seems to have written the whole thing). For the first half, I sat with the Colburge and -- Carolyn Davies! (ka-ching!) -- but not Gil Harel. And I might add it was great to see Carolyn and catch up. Or to see Carolyn and Ketchup, sort of a conceptual thing. So the concert starts with the Beethoven 5 and about 25 seconds in the light go out, gasps and commotions, stands go down and music is tossed in the air. Lights back, Jason says let's start again, concertmistress says they don't have music. Uh oh. Thief. So ... six suspects and their motives are brought up, with excerpts from music by all of them. All of them while a Power Point thing is project on screen behind them. And Beethoven, played in silhouette and with a German accent, helps out. And he is hard of hearing.

Thus music by the six suspects. The last half of the first movement of Stolen Moments represented the style of Rakowski -- On the Town represented Bernstein, The Sixth represented Tchaik, Surprise Symphony for Haydn, and shit. The kids were meant to write down the clues, and the aspects that identify the music of each suspect. Excellent, Gil Harel, you're coming along. Then intermission. After intermission, a review. Then -- six pieces. Mine was fifth, and has the quote from the Beethoven that's pretty obvious. Then there's Jason's back and forth with the audience, and the answers revealed on screen, and as Jason is coming to a conclusion, I walk out on stage carrying the Beethoven score as if to return it to Jason's stand and I'm wearing a blue wig. In the back and forth I reveal that the Beethoven melody is famous, great, and efficient; that dead people don't fight back when you steal from them; and that I hid the piece in my own piece, which the audience is now told was a world premiere (that evinced much more of an audience reaction than I thought it would). I go offstage, and they perform Beethoven 5 first movement, and I get a curtain call. Not Gil Harel, though. Afterwards, many autographs to sign (everyone's got a Clue Book with my picture), and eight hours to drive to get back and do my Monday morning teaching. I got back a bit before 1 and boy was my back tired. And did I mention how much I hate the New Jersey Turnpike? Not Gil Harel, though. I promise to put recordings of Current Conditions (my piece that steals Beethoven) and the Marine Chamber Orchestra's rendition of Stolen Moments I. -- with a full string section! -- up there on the left when I have them. Not Gil Harel, though.

So now I've gotten all 32 final papers required of Theory 2, and I have read some of them. More reading of them will continue. And typically, while I was away, no fewer than six requests for recommendation letters came my way. D'oh! It's Fromm Foundation commission season!

And we've had a dead red pine in the backyard for a number of years now, and I started calling Assabet Tree about it last November, noting that there was no rush. Over the weekend, they came by and left an estimate for the job of removing the tree and the shrub against which it was rubbing. Yesterday morning I called them and said we accept the offer, no rush. Call if you're going to come. And at about 3 in the afternoon I heard a bunch of loud motor sounds, and up the driveway came -- the tree cutting stuff! They set it up in the backyard so that the ladder was above the shed, and boy did the guy doing the cutting look professional. The job went pretty quickly -- the only slow stuff being the taking of the big pieces of tree, which they seem to keep for themselve to sell to others. Or something -- since they went on a truck full of very large logs. Cammy was minused (or, at least, nonplussed). And they were done cutting at quitting time before they got around to grinding the stumps. Which I hope they'll do soon, since I want to plant grass seed. Well, I don't WANT to plant grass seed, but I do want for there to be grass growing over where the tree once was. I do, I do. That would mean planting grass seed.

I also finally got some catnip plants at K-Mart -- which didn't have them for sale until last week. So I got six and installed them in various places to join the rosemary and basil already there. The basil plants, by the way -- not doing very well. Gil Harel, though -- he's doing fine.

This morning Papalia Plumbing & Heating sent someone by to assemble a quote for replacing our oil furnace and boiler, and water heater, and the radiator in the upstairs bathroom, with a gas furnace, boiler, water heater, etc. About $13,000, of course. And we are so worth it. It'll take two days, sometime before the end of the month. The Maids came to clean today also, so we went to lunch at the River Rock Grill -- seeing as the Cast Iron Kitchen doesn't do lunch no mo' -- and they never did on Tuesdays anyway -- and it was pretty good. The orange fennel which was the context for Beff's crab cakes was very nice. We may actually be -- gasp -- returning there in the future. And hey -- they've got Rapscallion on tap now.

And what do I have coming up in the next two weeks? Not Gil Harel. Some writing, though. Next event is BMOP May 28, and Beff's trio and my trio using hymn tunes in Hudson, New York, the next day. We are going in separate cars for reasons that Gil Harel won't explain. Then we will be doing some tourist stuff in Hudson, to the extent that that is possible. After all of that -- stuff.

This week's pictures include the new espresso maker, a bad reduction of the final throes of Ladies Who Lunch, a commemorative plate of the Slosberg Music Center (thanks Rebecca), Cammy on the side porch being curious about the tree people, 4 stages in the total annihilation of the red pine, and Winifred (the Colburns' dog) wearing my blue wig. Bye.

MAY 24 Breakfast was grapefruit, potato pancakes, orange juice and coffee. Lunch was part of a Trader Joe's flatbread pesto thingie and some boneless Buffalo wings. Dinner last night was steak tip sandwiches, Trader Joes fire roasted vegetables, and Brunello. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 37.4 and 82.8. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the battuto section of AhChim AnGae. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Down payment for new furnace, $4000; new GPS unit for Beff and dashboard stand for both of us, $279; construction permit for furnace, $125; drivers license renewal $50. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY New Hampshire E-Z Pass for accusing Beff of trying to skirt a toll (she has an EZ Pass transponder, which their cheapass hardware didn't detect) COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Trader Joes, for the frozen fire roasted vegetables we just discovered. PET PEEVE Even more than ever, left-turning cars that don't leave room for others to pass. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I and some of my friends often played with the family's 1964 vintage reel-to-reel, which had a pause function. One game was to ask questions and hold down the pause for some of the questions and answered so that the final tape had a lot of left-out stuff, and hilarity potentially ensued. Example: I asked four questions that ended up in the final as "What does...used...toilet paper...taste like?" Seventh grade humor. Later, we made up a second game that took advantage of the multitrack capabilities. On Channel 1, one of us would interview the other and leave gaps for answering. The other would then hear that which was recorded and answer. It was occasionally surreal. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Actually, it's chipmunks -- which, instead of running away when Sunny has caught them and is playing with them, jump straight up and down. Also, both cats when they've been into the catnip patch. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Home, Performances, Compositions, Bio, Lexicon. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: laroack, thought to be a fourth type of rock somewhere between igneous and sedimentary. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 4. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I have two little stripes on my arm that don't tan or burn -- wood stove incidents from 20 years ago. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Hot sauce on everything. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14,647. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.93 in Maynard. A LIST OF LISTS DOESN'T LIST THESE sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.

My official service to Brandeis is thereby finito until about August 25 of 2011. Though I *will* come in to teach a special class on Tension and Release this June 11 for an "alumni return to the Brandeis classroom" thing that they have ... uh, duh, for alumni. My little class will be an extension of the "Rubber Bands" teach-in I gave a few times back when there were teach-ins for frosh during the week before classes. As I recall (I haven't been over my notes for about 5 years now), I show that there is a long-term structure under the tune of Steve Winwood's "Valerie", reaching ever upward for the top octave tonic, which by then is harmonized with the subdominant several times -- meaning the song is not finished even though the tune is. But that's fodder for another day. Hello fodder.

And what really has there been to do since I got back from my blue-haired gig in DC? Actually, in Alexandria, Virginia, but I'll forgive me. Well, besides tapping my toes waiting around for the recordings to show up, not much. I did read a full thirty-two final theory papers, being thus amused at an analysis of Girl Wit' da Flaxen Hair that consistently named pitches a half-step higher than actually in the piece, and another that placed Ich Grolle Nicht in the Op. 39 Liederkreis. But it was also interesting reading all the 'chatty' papers about compositional processes and realizing there were 16 different approaches. Which, for all intents and purposes, means infinity approaches. And "Infinity Approaches" would be a good title. Dear reader, you can have that title. After all that reading, I returned the papers to the extent that I could, and did my last grade entry online, as infinity fast approached.

My last makeup lesson for the time I was in New York was Jared, which happened at my own house, and which was end-punctuated by malt beverage. What a way to end the teaching season! And there was a surreal moment during the inside part of the lesson in which a census worker came to the door to ask if anyone lived in the uglyass blue ranch next door. It's not important what my answer was ("yes").

During other non-composeness times, I went further in search of the perfect espresso beans, and came closest with some purchased at Whole Foods. Now my espresso is good. Before, it was okay.

Beff, meantime, was here a long time and then wasn't here a long time. She's now here. She had been in Maine to be one of the few grownups with responsibility at the Maine All-State Festival, and she resisted the temptation to take euphonium lessons on the side. Well, not a temptation so much as a concept. And now she's back, doing her non-euphonium thing with the vacuum cleaner, etc., some more.

I, on the other hand, took advantage of the terminus of classesness to do something about finishing off that etude project thing. Well, actually, etude project is what other people call it -- as in, when 100 are written the "etude project" will finally be finished after more than 22 years (22!). Me 'n' Amy, we just call it like it is. Doin' the toods. In any case, during this reporting period I decreased the distance to the finish by two-fifths. If I do the same in the next reporting period, I will have thus decreased the remaining distance by two-thirds. What is this, an SAT prep course? But yes. But no.

Five whole days were spent on a new cross-accent etude, and that one is wickid had. The incipit is simply a bunch o' major seconds, which got so earwormed (whatever that would mean) that by the time I reached the finish, the only way to get them out o' my head was to quote Golliwog's Cakewalk. And I did, Oscar, I did. But only very subtly, if that can be believed. After I saw what I had done, I took the sixth day to rest. Up on Ye Olde Facebook, I initiated a title sweepstakes, which was won by (but which was not one with) Adam Marks: Double Cross.

After which I decided it was time to write the *one* simple etude for Book X -- as each book has a simple one that I can play, sort of. And I raided my own playbook, which itself was stolen from Martler, and wrote a slow, soft etude using only dominant seventh chords as the available sonorities. Yee doggie, I shonuff had to pull out some fourth species trickery to make that one interesting. It's also crafted whole cloth from Schumannesque downward arpeggios, which means the delay in hearing the full sonorities makes for some possible ear trickery. Plenty of faking left and going right, but also plenty of faking left and going left. That sentence needs a verb. At the end of the day, I dedicated it to Gusty Thomas, who, after all, had dedicated one of her etudes to me. And the title? "Quietude".

So for those of you who have figured out that this page really ISN'T a how-to-study-for-the-SAT lesson, I now have 97 etudes. Which is, I believe, how many achievement awards were offered by the woodchucks on the Beverly Hillbillies episode with Wally Cox. Man, the pop culture references are ... obscure.

So, being that most of my time was spent at the piano looking for pretty-notes(TM), not much else is reportable here. There were plenty of bike rides. There was a meeting at Brandeis to vote on honors for our students followed by me giving a campus tour to and buying lunch for the Vincent family of Zephyr Lake (Karissa Vincent, whom I had mentored for the MacDowell at 100 thing back in '07, is now college-shopping, so there you have it). There was a trip to the DMV, always a pleasure, to renew my license, which was to expire next month on my birthday. And since my birthday is next month, that's when it was going to expire. And every five years you have to renew, and every other time you can do it online. This was not one of those times. And, and, and ... I got to play with my shipment of comp scores from Peters -- a few Etudes Book IX's and several of the Etude-Fantasies, with that target demographic of 11-13 year olds. Which brings me to L.A. in July, and what it is, too.

So besides all of that, there was very strenuous yard work to normalize the area where the red pine and in-weaved shrub had been taken down. Assabet Tree came by a week later (whilst I was with the family Vincent) and ground (grinded?) the stumps, thus leaving a few big holes and plenty of wood pieces in their wake. Raking, piling, and refilling the holes was my task, and five wheelbarrows full of the wood crap got carted to the leaf discard area -- which was also where the amazing proliferation of acorns from last fall got dumped, and where maybe a hundred new baby oak trees had already sprouted). I then covered the area with topsoil, planted some miracle grass, got out the big hose and sprinkler, and started watering all dat stuff. And so it goes.

Yesterday was my last official service to Brandeis for a while -- commencement. A quarter of the faculty are asked to be at commencement each year, meaning we are expected to attend one at least one every fourth year. Being that this one was my third in a row, that means officially I can skip commencement for the next nine years without penalty. Some guilt, maybe, but no penalty. Actually, no guilt. No guilt whatsoever. MWA ha ha ha! So I got to wear my Halloweeny regalia (see below), march, and sit in uncomfortable chairs while it was too hot, and sit close to the speaker system meaning I had to cover my ears a lot -- for two hours -- but I got to see Paul Simon, an honorary degree recipient, sing "The Boxer" while wearing a fedora. Then, sweat pouring out of every orifice (especially the sweat glands), I got to march out, high-five a bunch of music graduates, and skedaddle.

And today the guy from Papalia Plumbing & Heating came over to do a whole bunch of measuring, and to make me sign a release form acknowledging that I know the chimney is no longer going to be a chimney, and that the vent for the boiler will be on the west side of the house about six feet up. Woo hoo -- it will be like you can our house's breath all the time! And so on. On Wednesday and Thursday they'll be here putting in the new stuff, while Beff is ... in New York for a premiere! And a premiere! More on that in a moment.

Today I went to Staples and Trader Joes in the morning. Staples, because Beff's GPS conked out and she wanted a new one before the New York trip. Trader Joes because it is right next door. I got salad. And other stuff. And we took a bike ride through the Wildlife Preserve, and it's WARM today (hot tomorrow!). So ... on Wednesday Beff leaves to stay with Hayes and Susan, and to go to a preview concert where both of our piano trios -- the ones built around hymns -- are being done at a Harlem salon. Friday is the official premiere of those and other trios built on the same premise, and I'm staying here to go to BMOP. 'cause I promised Marty Boykan a long time ago I'd go to the BMOP performance of his Symphony. On Saturday, though, we will both be at a runout performance at the Hudson (New York) opera house, so we are both going to Hudson, staying at the St. Charles Hotel, and then going to see Olanna on Sunday morning. And we drive back. Then, on Memorial Day, we go briefly to Bangor and come back Wednesday. Stuff! Stuff!

The recordings of "Current Conditions" et all arrived during this reporting period (this is the piece I wrote to steal Beethoven's Fifth), and three renderings are evident to the left in dark blue: a runthrough, the dress rehearsal (apparently with a "cover" first trumpet, since the guy they usually have never makes a mistake), and the performance itself in which much audience noise is evident. The other two blue links have to do with Stolen Moments 1 with a full string section. Because I'm worth it.

Other stuff in the future: writing, going to Vermont, going to LA, going to Vermont, going to Utah, going to Vermont, coming home. Smiling. And my birthday lunch will be in Vermont at the Vermont Brew Pub in Burlington. Will you be there, dear reader? I didn't think so.

This week's pictures start with the holes in our backyard where the tree and shrub used to be -- the second one with Sunny for comparison. Followed by our cats not liking the local red cat that occasionally saunters through. Then, me in my office with my "Huh?" stamp on commencement day, and me with Sarah Mead before marching out. Bye.

JUNE 7 Breakfast was Shaws lite rice link sausages with 2% cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was a chicken sausage sandwich. Dinner last night was fast food crap at a rest area on the Massachusetts Turnpike. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 50.5 and 95.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS imaginary future licks for etude #99. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Remainder of new furnace cost, $9744, Finale upgrades $238, hotel room in Hudson, New York, $125. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Staples, for having no straightforward laptop stands in stock -- all they have is the pads with fans that suck power from your USB port. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY The bookstore in Hudson that has great beer on tap, especially for giving us a free one when we had to wait because there was so much foam. PET PEEVE Cars that drive in the passing lane equal to or slower than cars in the travel lane. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was 7 or 8, we availed ourselves of some sort of discount skiing thing at Madonna Mountain in Jeffersonville, Vermont. On Saturday, a bus took us to the ski area, there was a chaperone, and a group skied together, normally on the beginning and advanced beginner trails. Toward the end of the season, two chaperones came, and the group was allowed to split in two, and choose to do an intermediate trail or an advanced intermediate trail. I took the harder one, natch, along with only two others of the group. I remember taking this trail because it was deep in the woods instead of being open, because of a few sharp turns in it, some pretty rough parts, one or two moguls to deal with, and at one point I obviously misjudged something, because I recall going headfirst in two somersaults and strangely landing back on my skis -- at a considerably lower speed. It was coooool. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy's pathetic little meows when he is very sleepy. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions, Bio. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sturlex, a hybrid subtance used in fake gems used to decorate pens and sneakers. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 5. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I play euphonium and tuba almost as well as I play trombone -- which lately is hardly at all. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: The spelling "ledger" lines suddenly disappears from all music notation programs and music notation texts. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14,695. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.73 in Maynard, $2.77 in Hudson, New York, $2.69 in Maynard, $2.79 in Cambridge, New York. CAN BE MADE PERFECT WITH ENOUGH TRIAL AND ERROR sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.

Well, stuff happens, even for me. And there is plenty to report, so I'll skip the dada doodoo and get right to the point. When last our intrepid person typing in third person was viewed here, it was the day after graduation with a big sabbatical as far as the eye can see. Well, as far as the naked eye can see. The metaphorical eye, that is. The metaphorical naked eye. Metaphorically naked. The metaphorical metaphorically naked eye can metaphorically see. Or metaphorically "see". Let me start over.

Graduation is over. Sabbatical here! Two weeks less of it remaining than last time I wrote in first person, but time is like that. And that's not even speaking metaphorically. So the ground was hit by me, running. My first bigass project is to finish the etudes. Even though the finished thingie will be in ten books and 700 pages, I'm now thinking of the etudes as one really, really big piece -- which can be excerpted in performance -- that happened to take a bit more than twenty-two years to write. You can tell it's an important piece because "twenty-two" is spelled out, just like in the New York Times. Hmm, though their music writing is hardly what I'd call serious ... I digress. So to return to the original, miniscule, point, the first project is to finish the etudes. And since graduation, I wrote a very, very difficult one, #98, that was very, very hard to write -- based very, very loosely on the very, very difficult Chopin "Ocean Wave" etude, Op. 25 #12. So it goes up and down tempestuously in tempestuous ways and has a few gazillion notes in both hands. It may be the hardest tood yet (and the urge to go "MWA ha ha!" here is great). MWA ha ha! #99 is just under way today, and will also be hard, but at least for once I have a title before it is finished: Mano War. It's up to you, dear reader, to imagine how such an etude behaves.

However, much working time has been usurped by traveling, doing stuff, and traveling back. That, and sitting by while the old furnace was dismantled and a new one was installed, in addition to a new water heater and a new radiator for the upstairs bathroom. Understandably, during the three days that the jobs took, the cats spent most of the time under the couch, where I understand it's quite dark. The most impressive part of the job is probably the new vent that was installed for the gas furnace -- to increase the efficiency, the venting goes right straight outside the house instead of into the existing chimney (the old chimney is now nonfunctional -- we will be renting it out for very, very teeny, and dark, parties). The outside manifestation of the event looks like a travel hair dryer, and is not much larger than one. But a big hole had to be drilled through the house for the vent, and that was noisy, noisy, noisy, and took quite some time. The last part of the job was the new radiator, which was going in as I left for the BMOP concert. More on that at the jump.

Hi! How are you? Did you enjoy the little bit of white (or light blue) space? Good. So I went into BMOP, parked, walked around the Pru and Newbury Street, had a Sam Adams Brick Red Ale at a pub (apparently not available in bottles yet), and then had dinner at Conor Larkin's with John and MJ. We skipped the pre-concert stuff, since it's always packed with the same questions ("Tell us about your process" "How did you get the idea for the piece?" "Why is this so different from your other pieces?" "Do these contact lenses make my eyes look fat?"), and beer is much nicer, and pointful, than such things. The group of us sat toward the back of the balcony, and were very, very impressed by how good BMOP sounded, and how everything sounded -- in the compositional sense. There wasn't much music for just *some* of the orchestra, though (note to self: a substantial part of the evening listening to *fat* orchestra sound is very tiring) -- though Steven Stucky's piece did manage quite a bit of variety. John and I started counting, on our fingers, the number of orchestral cliches in some of the pieces, and we ran out of fingers. The concert concluded with Marty Boykan's symphony, which was great -- and finally a chance to hear bits of the orchestra instead of all of it. The opening piling of fifths returned at the end of the last movement, and there was much low harp. Everything in between was pretty.

Meanwhile, Beff was excused from being around for the furnace installation because she availed herself of a gig that we both had -- various concerts (three!) having to do with the Phoenix Concerts' Hymn Tune project. We both wrote short piano trios based on hymns, and were on the Wednesday preview, the Friday NYC show, and the Saturday runout in Hudson, New York. I stayed at home to babysit the furnace people and hear Marty's piece live, but got to drive to Hudson, stay with my own lovely wife in a hotel, cruise the street of Hudson, have fancy beer on tap in a bookstore ("The Spotted Dog", I believe), have a nice Japanese dinner, and walk into something called an "Opera House" to hear our trios played live. The concert format, when explained, sounds really lame: ten composers have written piano trios on or around specific hymn tunes. Two women (Gilda Lyons, who runs Phoenix Concerts, and another woman) sing the referenced hymns unaccompanied, followed by the piano trio that references the hymns. It worked extremely well, however. Though I got to remember how much I hate "The Old Rugged Cross" -- the tune itself. Danny Felsenfeld had a nice piece based around Amazing Grace that ended on "now", Beff's was very pretty, mine was oddly aggressive (surprise!), and there was a nice one by Roger Zahab, too -- who was at the concert. So in the end, the concert was pornographic -- in the sense that I can't tell you why it worked, but I knew it when I heard it.

The next day, which was the day before Memorial Day, we up and scooted out of the hotel early and drove south -- not very far south -- to a tourist attraction called Olana -- the house of the 19th century painter Frederick Church. The grounds are nice, the views cool, the architecture inspired by a weird early form of multiculturalism, and in a way it reminded me of Yaddo but with actual taste. We took the first available tour with a guide who was strangely (and creepily) knowledgeable about everything anyone could think of to ask. And then, in separate cars (because, you see, we'd arrived separately), we up and drove back to Maynard, arriving late afternoon. Beer and dinner was had. Then we had to get ready to drive to Maine!

For you see, Beff, newly 50, had to have her When-You've-Turned-50 procedure, and in Maine since it's where her health insurance is. It's not the sort of thing you have without health insurance. And so there was special diet for Monday -- Memorial Day, by the way. We drove through a bunch of haze that was strange considering it wasn't humid, which we later learned was smoke from Quebec wildfires -- and then on Tuesday morning, I drove her the half-mile to the Eastern Maine Medical Center, waited around, drove her back, and then rested. For that night, the two of us were to have dinner with her colleague Chip and Chip's wife Charlie. Which we did, at a very nice restaurant that served me a great, great Bloody Mary. I had salmon and Beff had chicken. And then on the next day, we drove back to Maynard. The weather, by the way, was strangely striped again. It was clear but cool when we left, but very hazy, cloudy, and smoky on the way down, but clear and dry back in Maynard when we got back. And the cats must have been angry, being left by themselves for 52 hours ... two little barflets had to be cleaned up.

And, meanwhile, and finally, the New York New Music Ensemble performance recordings of the Phillis Levin songs arrived, and those recordings replaced the Collage ones in my webspace -- and referenced in to the left in red. Meanwhile, I jacked up the levels on the Current Conditions performance and left only the performance, even with all the damn noise, on the blue link to the left.

So, and, for -- it got hot, and humid, with bigass thunderstorms passing through, especially at night ... and I finished #98 and gave it the title "Mosso" --- kind of the long way around a not-pun. Since Chopin's etude was called Ocean Wave, mine is about waves, too, which in the sea reports within the weather reports in Italian newspapers were forecast as "mosso", "poco mosso" and "molto mosso". It's not much, but it's all I have. Don't hate me for being beautiful.

And with that finished came the thinking for #99, about which you know, dear reader. But wait ... there was yet another trip to take! Way back in October, and then in November, and then in January, I tried to write a cute 3-4 minute piece for 4 cellos for Rhonda Rider and whoever she could talk into playing it. But I wrote a 6-minute thingie which didn't seem to stand on its own, so I added two movements to balance it, and, and ... it's fast, has lots of counterpoint and antiphonal passing of notes in long lines, and the MIDI sounds like Joe Liebermann talking. Well, Rhonda runs this subset of Music at Salem (in New York!) called The Cello Seminar, wherein ten very good cellists aged 21 to 25 spend a week on a farm rehearsing, playing in groups, playing solos, taking lessons, eating, and playing silly games in the evenings. She programmed my piece (called "Cell'Out", by the way) with all ten cellists and herself, with David Russell conducting. Wow.

While, on the same day -- I got together with Bill Anderson of Cygnus to make little flip videos of his plucky instruments (guitar, mandolin, tenor banjo, theorbo) for fuel for an eventual piece for the group. He had us meet at the house of one of his friends in New Paltz, out in the country, and for two hours we talked. That was after three hours of driving, while on the radio I heard of a tornado watch for the area ... but when it was over, I then up and drove to Salem where the cello seminar people were -- at a lovely big farmhouse and various surrounding buildings -- and had dinner. And then at nine o'clock, in the upstairs part of a converted barn, all the cellists got together and rehearsed my piece. Understand, dear reader, that the space was a bit small for this group, and hard for me to do anything but marvel at how enormously BIG the sound was -- but also at how good these cellists were, and how even the hard passagework, even in sections of three cellists, was hearable. It was also. Very. Hot. In the room, so I didn't make a lot of comments. So then we up and played a silly game that, like the Hymn Tune Project, sounds lame if you describe it, but is much, much fun when you actually do it. Basically Dictionary with first lines of imaginary romance novels. And then I was given "rustic" accommodations in the same room where the rehearsal had been. And it rained much.

Yesterday, the day of the gig, was a bit of breakfast in the morning, lots of warming up for the cellists, a drive to the concert venue -- which was two towns away, in Cambridge (also in New York). There was a bit of rehearsing of my piece, and then the concert. Each cellist did a solo turn, or a duo with piano (the Great Judy Gordon), followed by a Saariaho piece for 8 cellos done by 11 and conducted by David Russell, my piece under the same constrictions, and finally an arrangement of a D minor chaconne of Bach for multifarious cellos. There was no professional recording made, but one of the cellists had a Zoom which recorded some of the concert, and I recorded the big stuff from in the audience on my Edirol. Understandably, the hall is a bit echo-ey, and the size of the ensemble is vast, so it's hard to hear the details in the fast music. But I have put up the performance of the slow movement -- which at least moves slow enough to hear some of the musical things, save some imitative stuff in the middle voices, which gets swallowed in the echo. I have described this experience as Why Have One Chocolate From the Box When You Can Have A Whole Vat -- 'cause, like you know, it was a very, very big sound. And in rehearsals and performance I heard just about every detail of what I wrote. And so far I'm not convinced it's a good piece. Save the slow movements, which has some nice things in it. Which is why I'm letting you, dear reader, hear said slow movement -- see red link above and on the left. It's totally fresh! And one of these days I'll hear it with a third as many cellos, plus a fraction of a cellist. And -- oh, by the way, every piece was by a composer who worked in the 20th or 21st century. No warhorses!

And of course after said concert -- by the way, there was some great playing and some really nice music I hadn't heard before (Harbison's Abu Ghraib, Joan Tower's Tres Lent) -- I drove home, which involved reacquainting myself with how slowly they drive in upstate New York (we're talking 38 in a 55 zone, people), and making two wrong turns because the "turn this way for Route 22" signs were obscured by tree limbs .... And today, life begins anew with no trips until ... Friday! when we go to Vermont for a couple of weeks. And who knows, maybe ETUDES FOR PIANO will be finished in Vermont. Or not. Also on Friday I give a little "class" for the Brandeis Alumni College, but I'm not letting that turn my smile upside down. For you see, my reward at the end of the class is getting to go to Vermont. Well, that and retrieving two hissing cats from under the couch, who now sense when they're going to be in a box for three and a half hours.

And what other things? The Maids clean the house tomorrow! The new furnace gets inspected Wednesday! We finally file our last will and testament, health care proxy, etc., with a lawyer at the end of the month! They finally come and take our old oil tank away at the end of the month! And Sunday is my birthday! We used to do wings at the Ground Round for my birthday whenever feasible -- but last year and this, it'll be the very juicy wings, and beer, at lunch, at the Burlington Brew Pub. Beff will be driving.

Coming up -- L.A. and Utah. Writing music. Going to the bathroom. Changing minds.

All of this week's pictures except the first were taken with my cell phone. First we have the house hole made by the people installing the vent for the furnace. Next, four shots taken of, and from, Olana. Then the view of the haze and smoke on the drive back from Bangor. The last four involve the cello seminar: the farmhouse where we ate and the converted barn where my rehearsal was and where I slept; the eleven cellists setting up for my rehearsal in the cramped space with angled ceilings; cello cases lining the wall at the performance; and the audience for the event, just starting to arrive, on risers. Bye.

JUNE 26 Breakfast was nothing. Lunch was a mozzarella pizza from Shaw's. Dinner last night was fried chicken, deviled eggs, noodles, dumplings, and beer from a can. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 46.2 and 92.8. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Current Conditions. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE New tire $142 incl environmental impact fee. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Hannaford's in Burlington for discontinuing the decide-your-own-marinade for the salmon they sell. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Farm House Tap and Grill in Burlington, despite the overpeppiness of the wait staff, for a great meal done right, and not overly expensive. PET PEEVE Cars that drive straight to the E-Z- Pass lanes and then realize at the last minute they don't have an E-Z Pass. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My first job interview ever was at Columbia in 1987 -- I didn't get the job, but Walter Winslow did -- and at my job talk I played my old Elegy for Strings. Impressive, sad sounding piece, with a complicated chart. The whole thing was about all-interval tetrachords (which I used because Joe Dubiel had once said it was impossible to write a harmonically varied piece using them), of which there are two (0146, 0137). The whole structure was based on phrases that begin with one of them and cadence on the other, then more chorale-like stuff that isolates one kind, then the other, then back to the alternating of the two kinds. Clever, huh? And still it sounds like Barber and Berg with whipped cream and a cherry to boot. So at the job talk, immediately Suzie Blaustein said -- "that first chord is 0137, not 0146 like the chart says." Sound of structure deflation. She quickly added, "that's okay. Just change the number on the chart." More structure deflation. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cats being very curious and perturbed by cat sounds on Ann's cell phone. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions, Bio, Reviews 5. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: pardluree, a transparent extension for rugs and fingernail clippers. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 0. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I hardly use them, but I own lots of font-making programs: TypeTool 2 and 3 for Windows, Fontographer 4.7, Fontographer 5, Font Lab, and Font Lab Studio. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: I'm the new me. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14,863. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.84 in Burlington, Vermont; $2.84 in Burlington, Vermont. SAY THIS FIVE TIMES FAST sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.

I was there, but now I am no longer there. I am now here. Film at 11. "There" can be Brandeis (yes, I promised I wasn't going back until the sabbatical was over, but there was Alumni College to do, more shortly), and it can be Burlington, Vermont, or even St. Albans. So lemme splain.

When last I was intrepid, I was embarking on that all-important penultimate tood, #99, with a predetermined name: Mano War. Tee hee. Embarkment, that was done, and I got a few days in on it. Then, on the 11th in the morning, I did a bunch of service for Brandeis -- during reunions, various faculty teach proto-classes and take questions for alumni, and I retooled my old "Rubber Bands" teach-in -- about tension and release in music. The idea was to show tension and release at several levels in several kinds of music, be it in repeated patterns, in delayed cadences, or even in frustrated key schemes (I don't know what that is either, but it was fun to type). As is customary for classes in music, several were far ahead of the others, and had good, penetrating questions that were probably above the heads of most of the others, but you know, you run with it. One attender even noted that a Schumann song I played had an "unresolved tritone" at the end,and ... well, I answered as best I could. I had a microphone and was talking to an audience of 60, but I went without the mike whenever was feasible. I had played a Machaut example as a different kind of tension and release, and I got a complex question about why fourths and fifths were used earlier than thirds for harmonization, and OOH! the complicated answer ensued, even though it was even sketchier than the Readers Digest version of the answer. And, and ... the people running the various classes gave me a travel mug, and I drove home.

Almost immediately after which we retrieved the cats from their hiding places under the couch, boxed 'em up, and drove, with lots of stuff, for a two-week stint at the place in Vermont. We chose the Route 3/Everett Turnpike/Route 293 spoke off of 495 since it's shorter and usually faster, but some dumb clucks (or something that rhymes with clucks) decided to have a breathtaking accident right in the construction zone, and just shy of some toll booths. So the 20 minutes that that route saves was eaten up by the delay the dumb clucks caused -- incidentally, we did get to rubberneck and see a car that was exactly upside down, with one wheel completely gone. Beff, just 10 minutes behind me, though, was subjected to an hour delay. So I got to the place considerably in advance, which is probably good, since I had the cats. The cats were fine and recognized their occasional summer digs, and of course wanted cat treats right away. When Beff arrived, just after 5, we split up the duties: she cleaned and installed us, and I went to the supermarket for staples et al. That night, dinner was salmon filets marinated in a garlic dill marinade. And we saw that it was good.

When feasible, we tried to time dinner around the time of the local TV news -- even though that made it almost 3 hours before sunset -- because, of course, it was nostalgic, in a certain way. A whole hour of local stuff -- who can resist that? But our last connection to our glorious pre-middle-age past, Marseilis Parsons, was not in evidence either as a newsreader or reporter. Beff found out later that he had retired just this year. And so all that is left now is a folksy crew either without regional accents, or mightily suppressing Vermont accents. The field reporters, however, kept theirs when feasible. Even for weird stories like snipers that shoot at horses in the pastures.

We had scheduled some people to come and visit, but some didn't come due to ... marital strife. But there was a lovely hot weekend day when the Feurzeig family, all of them, came for lunch, swimming, and a trip to the dog park (luckily they brought their dog). David Feurzeig is the new composer at the University of Vermont, and of course composers tend to stick together (and laugh at the same dorky jokes). We got to experience the having of four kids thing, except that when the day was over, we were back to zero. Whew! That was a close one. I like kids that come with a reset button.

There were a few trips to local restaurants, all of them fantastic, and one of them quite new. Locavorism is strong in the area, both the pretentious and the unpretentious version, and we got to experience both. Locavorism in Burlington means there is alway an available entree of two, three, or four different Vermont cheeses, as well as "grass-fed" beef burgers. Cows eat something besides grass? How will I remember the spaces on the bass staff? Pretentious was the Bluebird Cafe a fairly short drive from where we were, but I must say the garlic aioli (redundant, since the "ai" on "aioli" means garlic) that comes with their fries is pretty durn special. If filling. Their steak tartare was good, too, but the texture and color was not unlike something' I et 'n' lost. The Hill something IPA we got was great -- and they had it at another place we went, too.

And that place was the Farmhous Tap and Grill, a very new and trendy restaurant in the space taken for a long time by McDonald's. They have 25 great beers on tap, the cheese plates, and the same kinds of nice starters, and of course locavorism. We got local fried zucchini, for instance, and a local cucumber salad, and yes, I got grass-fed beef. Some Cows Eat Grass. Plus, lovely beer.

However, even BEFORE all that happened, we had a two-restaurant day. Why, Batman, why? Because it was my birthday, and in Ye Olden Tyme, we would do my birthday as Buffalo wings at the Ground Round -- we had a less developed sense of irony at the time. So I insisted on some wings at the Burlington Brew Pub, since I like their peppery sauce and they make their own beer -- but since it was a Sunday, Beff wanted to do dim sum, too. And the Sunday after she would be at U Maine doing Chair stuff. So, okay. Dim sum at the Single Pebble was great, and then we stretched out a bit. Beff went to a stupid meeting of the Association of the summer camps of which the Wiemann camp is a member, and on it dragged. Finally I got my wings. And sated was I.

As to more and more wings -- we also ate at a restaurant very close by, which was under new management, and the wings were ... okay. And after we had done a 12:15 showing of Toy Story 3 (great!!!!), we moseyed to Buffalo Wild Wings in the Shelburne Road Plaza, a sign for which we had seen on the way to the movie. I liked that, too, and we lucked in to 50 cent wing Tuesday. Because, you see, it was Tuesday. I liked it a lot -- I got the hot Buffalo, out of a choice of 16, and Beff got the Asian something wings. And salad, too. So there.

And finally -- I drove to Warner's snack bar in St. Albans for lunch on one of the days Beff was in Maine. It was awesome. Or not. But how many times can you go to your first job, with the same bosses, 34 years later, who recognize you? That's right: once.

But we did do things besides eat -- and do Facebook updates. To wit, we brought our working 88-key keyboard and set up, and Beff worked on music for trumpet, cello and piano -- for a recording! Myself, I finished etude 99, then started and finished etudes 100, 100a and 100b. Yes, the etudes are done, done, done for all time! (unless I start writing pantoozlers), and I went out with a metaphorical bang. At the Buffalo wings dinner on my birthday, I told Beff I wanted to do a four-hands etude to end the set that was also two different two-hands etudes that could be played together or separately. Without pause, she said, "Call it 'Two Great Tastes'". Brilliant. So the two constituent toods are called Erdnußbutter and Cioccolato -- one on chromatic scales in compound time, one on repeated chords that crescendo and diminuendo, in simple time. And two-thirds of the way through, they bleed into each other. In Erdnußbutter at that moment, there is the indication "you got cioccolato in my erdnußbutter!" Similar story for Cioccolato. I was also writing these for Adam Marks and Amy Briggs, so there are also quotes from toods associated with them, and -- of course -- the ending of #100 is exactly the same as the ending of #1: lowest two black keys played with fist. Woo hoo!

So there, smarty pants. So that next weekend Beff had to go to U Maine -- six hour drive -- for Chair type stuff, and while that was happening I was going onto the next thing -- which made me very glad to have installed the Finale 2011 update. On Jason Fettig's nudging, I arranged all of Stolen Moments (string quartet, woodwind quintet, piano) for chamber orchestra with a full string section and double winds. The new features in Finale made it much less cumbersome to do the arrangement over the top of the original scoring -- though there is so much music there -- 25 minutes and four movements -- and so much that had to be reconstituted that the arrangement took six full working days. But hey. I've got another orchestra piece without all the chocolate mess! Woo hoo!

Meanwhile. Sunsets in Vermont. Awesome.

Our last full day in Vermont -- yesterday -- included our first actual bike ride, the arrival of Beff's sister Ann (a co-owner of the place), packing up, and attending a huge barbecue at one of the other places in the compound. For that we had to provide a side dish, which was various dumplings and stuff from an outdoor vendor in downtown Burlington. None of the others understood that as a side dish, so we pretty much helped ourselves to all of them ....

And today was outta Burlington day (How could we be outta Burlington? Didn't we just buy more?). We got up before the alarm, which was set to 5 -- since Beff had to be at U Maine at around noon. We collected the cats and other various stuff, and I drove back to Maynard -- arriving even before the post office was open, so I didn't immediately get the held mail. Beff, meanwhile, was and is in Maine. Back here I unpacked, transferred various files to my main working computer, mowed a buttload of lawn in the humidity, turned on some air conditioning, took two brief constitutionals on the hammock, and, well, here I am.

So, coming up is lunch with Hayes at MadCowell (typing error intentional), a visit to a lawyer's office to get our wills and health care proxies, and a company coming to take $350 of our soft-earned money in exchange for taking out the old oil tank and bringing it with them. Then, next weekend, quick trip to L.A. and back for the Music Teachers Association of California Bash, and then ... uh, back to Vermont. With yet more pieces to write or find excuses not to write. Plus, entertain.

Today' pictures are all from Vermont. First, my working area in the downstairs; a view towards New York state from the beach; Cammy in the window; the sketch for Etude #100 in a very bad reduction; a breakfast I made; sour freezer pops; two views of the amazing June 20 sunset; an earlier sunset closeup; and the cats being very curious about the cat ring tones Ann played on her phone. Bye.

JULY 7 (il compleanno, l'anniversaire, geburtstag, of Amy Briggs) Breakfast was an egg, bacon and cheese sandwich on a whole wheat bulkie, orange juice and coffee. Lunch yesterday was absolutely nothing. Dinner was the salmon salad at the Blue Coyote Grill in Maynard. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 50.7 and 99.9. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS The piano break of Stolen Moments. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Parking at Logan Airport $72. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Airlines that charge extra for luggage and onboard food -- which is all of them; and whoever designed LAX Airport. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Whoever employs the airline scanner people at LAX -- Zoom! And MTAC for the fun, fun conference. PET PEEVE People who obsessively list their pet peeves. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was in sixth grade, I was considered, for whatever reason, to be a good enough trombonist to be inserted into the second trombone section at the high school district music festival held at BFA. I'm not sure if we still have any pictures from that event. Somehow, a reel-to-reel of the entire concert was procured, and I absconded with all my second trombone parts. And obsessively, I played the band portion of the tape and played along on the second trombone part. My poor parents. (it was worse, of course, when I started writing music, which I had to do in the living room, because that's where the piano was -- and there was this one piece that had an ostinato in parallel fifths and octaves that my mother absolutely hated ... MWA ha ha). NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 1. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: The quality of their meows when it is this hot. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: spickle, a seldom-used plastery substance cured in vinegar and brine. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 2. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I can pronounce msinairatnemhsilbatsesiditna. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Food stains on your shirt means you're really cool. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 14,867. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.66 in Maynard. THERE'S A KIND OF HUSH sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.

It's another one of those I was there but now I am here weeks, and that doesn't bode well for the future, unless it does. I could splain, and I probably will. But first let me note that both air conditioners have been going full blast for some time now, and are having a devil of a time keeping up. There. As advertised, I noted that both air conditioners have been going full blast for some time now, and are having a devil of a time keeping up. And the cold water pipes in the basement are sweating, which is usually not their wont.

As to whassup. Lotsa stuff. The most time-consuming task, possibly, during this last reporting period was being an external evaluator (or evaluatrix, as I like to call it) for an academic promotion (who? I can't say. Literally). Otherwise, it's been lazy summer days with sweat-machen chores, shopping, and a little bit of bouncing up and down to do. The best things in life are free. Life is an anagram of file. And dagnabbit, it's the time of year when plenty of requests come in for similar external evaluations. Dear reader, I do not always say yes.

So soon after this last update, I produced a whole mess o' stuff to send to Peters, including all of Book X, and some suggestions for some excerpted editions of them. We'll see if out those pan. Also some other scores to print and send out, etc., ad infinitum. At the post office they call me "David" because that is my name. Actually, they don't call me anything. They don't know my name. I don't need to be where everybody knows my name.

On the day we left Vermont, we had split screen existences, briefly. As Beff had to do U Maine stuff and I hunkered down here in Maynard. There was plenty to accomplish in the first several days back, and it began with a Monday at MacDowell -- uh, driving to MacDowell, that is -- to have a nice lunch with Hayes, who is there, and of course visiting the NH State Liquor Store for severely discounted wines and the Ocean State Job Lots for severely discounted who the hell knows what they'll have TODAY? Well, at Job Lots it was baked beans and Steaz iced tea ... and at the liquor store it was Ballet of Angels wine, which Beff and I have had a lot (this batch, sampled later, pretty much sucked as big as big ones get). And, incidentally, on the way, I stopped at the health food store in Groton on the way up, and got TWO varieties of "Real Pickles", which I always like, and which are really hard to find -- dills and garlic dills. They fit the description of "just what Davy needs, when he needs it". As to Hayes, it was good to see him and talk to him and hear the organ prelude he was about to finish. He is in the Watson studio, where I was twice, and ... oh yeah, we ate at Noney's. My first CHEEZBORGR PLATTER in many years. Uh, or probably at least since I had it in the same place with Sarah Manguso in 2007. But am I dropping names? Yep.

That night, back got Beff, but more was to be accomplished. For you see, we finally got our acts together, as aren't-you-old-yet people, to file our wills, health care proxies, and other important legal documents. This included a drive to West Concord, a commuter rail train, a subway, a bit of around-farting, a massive document-signing session, a subway, an Asian fusion lunch in Porter Square, the purchase of two new sound effects toys and a birdsong book, a commuter rail, and a drive back home. And we made sure to include a few nonprofits in our wills as beneficiaries -- namely VCCA, MacDowell, Yaddo, and BMOP. So there. That night we had the Ballet of Angels wine with our swordfish dinner, and it ... well, it sucked. The swordfish, though, was good. Ah, pesce spada. Five letters in each word.

And the day after that! Even more! For as new owners of a gas heat furnace, we were required by law to get rid of the old oil storage tank within one year (otherwise it is classified as "abandoned", or so we were told). Well, for just $350, Tanks-Away, or something like that, came in, drained the tank (didn't let us have the $240 of old oil, though), disinstalled it, and cemented the holes where the filler pipes had been, and took everything away. All they left us was a hint of heating oil fumes, which dissipated within a couple of days. Fascinating.

At the end of the week, we did dinner at the Cast Iron Kitchen for the first time in several months, and the sound effect box certainly came in handy. I mean, who wouldn't want to SEEM to press on a nipple and get ... applause ... audience laughter ... rim shots ... cash register sounds ... For the record, I got the ziti, again, and it was VASTLY improved over the last time I had had it. Mostly because I am a big fan of garlic.

Meanwhile, embark I did on the next project, which is solo cello, for Rhonda Rider. Non ti merdo when I tell you it has to do with a residency at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon (I don't know if "south rim" gets the initial caps, but I decided to give it the respect it is due, if any), and a bunch of composers are writing for her loosely (very loosely) based on the Big Ideas of the Grand Canyon. Of those Big Ideas I chose water (water is big, right?). And in several hot or not so hot morns and afternoons, I have been writing that piece. Which is not, so far, finished. FWIW, in the course of about 75 measures, I have slowly descended from the high register to the middle register of the instrument. The C string is not yet in evidence. Dear reader, I'm sure you have been clonked on the head with how the metaphor being belabored in this piece. On to the next paragraph.

Incidentally, I grew up listening to the Grand Canyon Suite by Ferde Grofe (five letters in each name, hmmm...). But what I really mean is I grew up being in the room when my parents listened to the Grand Canyon Suite. I made a conscious decision not to quote any of it in my piece. It's a hard decision to make unconsciously.

Being that we had been gone to Vermont for two weeks, there was plenty of mowing -- all of it, in fact -- to be accomplished when we got back, and that is very tiring and time consuming. I didn't mind, though. Since that mow, very little has grown back because of the heat and humidity and the total lack of rain -- indeed, the Browning of the Yards is in full swing. So in the course of my career I've progressed from brownnoser to brownyarder. On top of the mowing, there has been much consumption of freezer pops, normally sugar-free. For it is the hot part of the summer.

Hottest, in fact, in the ten years we've been here (nine years eleven months, but who is counting?), as you'll note by the temperature extremes. I was pleased, in fact, to be absent for three of those stratospheric temp days, but I was beezy with my own stuff, as will be learned shortly. Lawn mowing will happen in the darker portion of the day, as long as it's not like yesterday, in which the temp was still 93 at sundown. It should be no surprise to note that there are Heat Advisories up. And places as far north as Winooski were 100 degrees yesterday.

And meantime, I've been to Los Angeles! I'm back! Yes, sunny California, except for ... uh, when I was there. But backtracking a bit is to be done by me, and here, and now. The Music Teachers Association of California commissioned me for intermediate level pieces for four hands, which I fulfilled last July. Fulfilled, that is, by writing seven miniatures for piano four hands, calling it "Etude-Fantasies", and then sitting back waiting for the glory to wash over me. I worked with Cathy O'Connor, who has some important role within the MTAC and its foundation. Peters made some lovely bound scores and made them reasonably priced.

So over the Fourth of July weekend, the MTAC held their annual conference at the Airport Marriott in Los Angeles -- which involved turning banquet rooms of various sizes into concert venues, practice rooms, and a giant exhibitor room. It reminded me of the Midwest Clinic from 2004, except maybe about a quarter of that size. My job: blow into town, coach three duos who have learned the Etude-Fantasies (ranging in age from 9 to 16), listen to a student composer concert and comment on the pieces I've heard. So on Sunday flew I, directly, into LA, and there was Kate Vincent, a violist whom I know from the Boston scene. I asked what brought her to LA, and she noted that she now ... lives there. Even though apparently she's still a big-time Boston gigger with BMOP, et al. Talk about a hell of a commute. And by the way, the scenery in the last two hours of the flight was very nice, thank you very much. Clear as a bell, not a cloud to be seen, north rim of the Grand Canyon, maybe .... until we got to LA, where there was a low overcast, possibly fog, and it was cloudy-feeling. Until it burned away and there was a hazy feeling.

Getting to the Marriott was no problem, and neither was eating at the sports bar (the California avocado chicken sandwich) within the Marriott. After a nap, I found Cathy O'Connor, and we did a little beer. She had been putting on concerts of all the 24 commissions prior to mine, and was ready to relax, natch. Others involved in the process were nearby. Later, for dinner, I went back to the sports bar, had Buffalo wings, and all was right with the world. The clouds had cleared and I could see Downtown LA w-a-a-y in the distance from my hotel room on the 12th floor. I could also see, on the left, planes landing and on the right, planes taxiing to take off. They don't call it the Airport Marriott for nuthin'.

And then came the coaching with the three duos, who went in order of age (youngest to oldest), and who gave little speeches before they played. Looking over my pieces, I thought there was quite a bit that would seem difficult to young players, but I was wrong. All six students nailed it in their own ways -- and played it differently from each other, which I liked. And there was a bit AV setup -- two Jumbotronish monitors surrounding the stage, and cameras set up to film the hands and the scores. It was fun, and slightly surreal, hearing my pieces and having all the eye candy whenever I wanted it. One of my miniatures, called Horizons, was in 7/8, and of course all the players thought it was tricky, but did it sound hard? Nope, even sounded a little like Summertime. And I had a microphone and did a bit of mugging for the cameras, and tried to keep it lively. Afterwards, a small eternity was spent autographing scores.

Then Cathy and I had a beer.

After that was a concert of young composer prizewinners, ranging from film scores to serious to be bop, and each one was quite sophisticated. My job was to lead something like a masterclass with the composers afterwards, and I did the best I could -- seeing as I was at a lectern and was amplified, and they weren't. Some of these composers are, or will be, studying with people I actually know. So there.

Then Cathy and I had a beer.

And were joined by a bunch of people for dinner. At the sports bar, natch. And carousing until we stopped. Then, bed, early trip to airport (LAX traffic is tremendous at 6:15 am!) and ride back. I got in just in time for Boston rush hour, which was ... unimpressive! The car thermometer said it was as hot as 102 in some of my drive, and what it is, too. But it sure was hot, and even the air conditioned rooms were not terribly air conditioned. So it was 6, and the idea was to go to an air conditioned place for dinner that wasn't too fancy. Hence the Blue Coyote. And I got that salmon salad thing and Beff got onion soup followed by a salad. And we saw, and tasted, that it was good. Sleeping last night -- just fine.

I had, meanwhile, gotten an e-mail that the New England Philharmonic has programmed my Marine Chamber Orchestra piece "Current Conditions" for its February concert (I'll be in France) and how much would parts rental be. While I was in my hotel room, I was looking at my list of publications on the back cover of the Peters Edition of the Etude-Fantasies and ... oh, there's Current Conditions, Edition Peters 68305! So it was an easy answer: "I dunno. Call Peters". Woo hoo, I say, and sometimes say it backwards. Oh, ow oo is an anagram of woo hoo.

And now, mid-day here in swelterville, we are eating cold stuff, drinking cold stuff, and mostly staying in the rooms with air conditioners. We did laundry in the morning, and the dryer seemed not to be able to find any dry air with which to do its task. So our, uh, do they call it "analog air dryer?" (drying rack, yes, I know) was put into service for a little while. When Sunny went out, he put it into service, too. And now we're just waiting for it to cool down (good luck on that) so we can muster enough energy to complain about how little energy we have.

So, a little bit of lawnmowing to do before we return to Vermont at the end of the week. There will be the dance of packing and trying to fool the cats into thinking they're not going to be put into boxes (that part gets harder and harder), the driving, and ... the land of no air conditioners. Lawdy. This also means the next update here is some time in August. Deal with it. And during that time ... the trip to Utah! the trip back from Utah! Not to mention the trip from Burlington to Boston to get the plane to Utah! And the trip back to Vermont from Boston!

I haven't been taking pictures, so not much to look at this week. Admire two shots -- from my cell phone -- looking in two different directions from my Marriott hotel room -- and the display of etude-fantasies for sale at the convention. Followed by as much outdoor cuteness we can muster in the current temperature -- Sunny and the drying rack. Bye.

JULY 30 Breakfast was nothing. Lunch was the chicken Caesar wrap at the Halfway Cafe. Dinner last night was slight Buffalo wings and a chicken pesto panini at The Alchemist in Waterbury, Vermont. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE JULY 7 UPDATE 56.1 and 95.7. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS First movement of Stolen Moments,only because I was checking a link to it. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Lawyer stuff $1487. A year of car insurance $994. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Duffy's Pickles of Waterbury, Vermont, for not showing up to the Waterbury Farmer's Market. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Duffy's Pickles (which we bought from another vendor) because they be so good; Buffalo Wild Wings for the free wings. PET PEEVE Left-turning cars that leave no room for traffic to get by (again!) POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Two things I improved at when I was 7 or 8 were for mere financial gain. My mother promised me 10 cents per typing lesson I would type up from her college typing book; and 10 cents for each new piano piece learned from my older siblings' method books. One day Mom owed me like $1.80 for piano pieces, so she changed the reqirement to memorized pieces. I still made ou like a bandit. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Cammy's need for attention at all hours, yet his mysterious disappearance to we know not where when we have company. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: sonoli, a frozen bakery confection that didn't catch on. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST THREE WEEKS: 3. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I have a blog. Truth be told, that info is on Jim Primosch's blog. But nowhere else. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Food stains on your shirt means you're really cool. STUPIDEST RECENT THING DONE BY DAVY I put my hand on the lawnmower's air filter when it was very hot. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 15,135. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.63 in Maynard, $2.67 in Burlington, $2.81 in Waterbury. YOU CAN'T GET THERE FROM HERE sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.

Dear reader, I am back from Vermont while not actually being from Vermont. But first, a nonsense sentence. Whinty prine farlet gimpse in das prinstipoozie buff. Now that we know that what do we do?

But first. We went to Vermont! We've been there for three weeks! And we did things. Things were done by us! Beth put the finishing touches on a piece for her trumpet colleague Jack, for trumpet, cello and piano; and started a new ensemble piece. She also drove TWICE to and from the U of Maine for things relating to her chairmanship and to the summer music camp they hold there. Whoo doggie, pardners.

We got there while the Big Heat was still on, and sleeping was difficult even with two fans blasting. But finally the heat broke. And things started feeling more normal. And some nights, even, we used ... a ... blanket! The cats lik it when we sleep with a blanket. When I say "the cats", I mean Sunny.

As for me, I wrote the rest of a solo cello piece for Rhonda Rider, capping out at about six or seven minutes, on the theme of water, for her residency at the Grand Canyon. At last check in this space, I hadn't used the C string yet, having started very high (play with puns on THAT one, smarty pants!). Once I did get to the C string, I used it just as much as I wanted to, and often in double stops. With the G string, of course, silly. Double stops with the C and D or A strings require a four-dimensional bow. And broad strokes, blahdy blahdy, and back to the higher register for an abbreviated recaps. I do a lot of abbreviated recaps. Does that make me a ... soupir ... one-dimensional formalist? In due time (before it was due, time), I sent it to her. As to the title, Glitter and Glisten (you know, the sun on pools of water, etc.) were just silly and kind of funny-tasting. So I looked them up in the online Italian dictionary. Settling on "Luccicare". To glisten. Now I am closer than ever to that Italian translation of Winter Wonderland! Snow is glistening? Neve luccica!

Now that didn't take that much time at all, did it?

It turns out now that when I am slow to rev up on a new piece, or stuck in one, I no longer write piano etudes. Heck -- would you? This is because, and duh, the set of etudes is finished. So proclaimed Davy, with his official proclaiming stick, also fond of referring to itself in the third person. But will the proclaiming stick? Well, so far it has. And so when Luccicare was finished, and Beff was gone for four days to Maine, instead of getting right to the next piece (cello and 15 strings), which I wasn't ready to start, I ... started a blog!

I started a blog!

Called zio davino, apparently, don't know. See the "Blog" links twice on this page. There are currently ten entries, including one about dreaming music, one about how many friggin letters we composers have to write for other composers, one about writing simple music, one about music copying in the old days, three about Sound Effects toys, etc., etc. The rate of new blog posts will slow considerably, and there is already a blog entry apologizing for that, too. So. I figured out how to get YouTube movies into the blog posts, including movies for only the blog -- turns out I can make movies on my YouTube channel unlisted. How 'BOUT that? Though I can't attach sound files, alas, to illustrate any of my points. I will soon figure out if I can sneak some into YouTube movies or something.

Alas, Jim Primosch discovered my blog pretty quickly, and blogged that I was now blogging. I mean, talk about circular referentiality. Which I do, a lot, Oscar, and you will, too. I'm keeping the blog secret to only the low two figures who read this thing here, and whoever finds it or is recommended it. Because, you see, and I say this not at all in Italian, I am worth it. Mostly (except occasionally, like will happen soon) there won't be much overlap between this page and the blog.

So in Vermont, work did get done, and I did eventually start that cello and string orchestra piece -- I have about three and a half minutes that feels like it is still introductory, which is tragic considering it is supposed to be ten minutes max. When last I worked on the piece, I was working on building a big upbeat to the "meat" of the piece. Which will be, wow, maybe four minutes in.

Meantime, there was also plenty of entertaining to do. On separate weekends, and both while Beff was in Maine, we (I) were visited by Jared and Vivan, and later John and MJ. That involved some trips into Burlington for eating and shopping, some grilling at home, a drive down Route 100 for rusticness and the like, plenty of eating at very good restaurants, and water sports. Which means I should bring up now ...

Kayaks. The place owns two of them, with cheap plastic paddles. I was initially resistant to the idea of going out in the wavy lake with a watercraft with which I had no experience, while hardly being able to grip the paddle because of the sunscreen -- plus, Beff didn't tell me about the leg bracing thingies -- where you brace your legs inside the kayak so that you are firmly attached thereto. Ah, once I found out about THEM, there was stopping me! But not much of it. I went out a few times with Beff, then once on my own, and again for a longer spell with Beff, and I now enjoy it. Witty comment of this period was on Facebook, when I Status Updated "...kayaked for the second time in his life". Augustus Arnone commented "98 more times to go." So John and MJ kayayed several times while I went swimming several times. Jared swam, and Vivian drew and/or slept.

A longer visit, and the last one of this summer, was Beff's colleagues Liz and Denny, with whom we did NO water sports. But we did do the Farmhouse Tap and Grill with them, which was spantaculicious. And once all the entertaining was accomplished, of course we got back to work. But in my case, only for a couple of days because I am back here in Maynard, for reasons soon to be discussed. Beff, meanwhile, will begin the 2010 iteration of the Vermont Youth Orchestra Camp on Sunday. Then she will continue. Then it will stop.

I go to Utah on Sunday. So I am in Maynard today, after being away from it three weeks, to deal with bills, lawn mowing, and all that jazz. Then I get back Thursday, return on Friday to Vermont, and come back to Maynard, again, on the following Monday. Then, no traveling for a while.

On Monday of this week, I drove 290 miles, most of it on non-interstate roads in Vermont, and it was for a good cause. Karl Larson, whom faithful readers may have recognized as the page turner on the I-Chen Yeh YouTube tood videos, is a performance fellow at the Bang on a Can Summer Institute at the Mass MOCA. He and I-Chen are both DMA students in the contemporary performance program at Bowling Green State in Ohio, and apparently it's a Heavy Davy department. As in, everyone does toods. Plus, it's just FUN to say "Heavy Davy" over and over. I hadn't heard him play -- I just saw him turn pages and point a microphone, so I was delighted to drive to North Adams and hear how completely wonderfully he played toods #84 and #85 -- both of them premieres. I even forgot about, almost, the completely clueless long construction delay I had to endure on the way.

It was a quite informal setting within the galleries of the museum -- with a solo cello piece and a solo glock piece goin' down in a big room, followed by my toods and a John Zorn piece in another room. The two toods Karl chose were related, intentionally -- both starting with repeated D's and ending with a C#-D-E sonority. The slower one turns out to be harder, according to Karl. See red "Hairpinning" and "Diminishing" links up to the left.

Last night we went to Waterbury for the Farmers Market. Rick Moody had found some jalapeno dill pickles in Johnson when he was at the writer's conference there, and told me they were called Duffy's and were made in Waterbury. Internet research showed that Duffy's sold at said Farmers Market, so we went in and decided to do dinner there, too, at a brew pub called the Alchemist. Duffy's, however, was a no-show. Luckily, the woman selling lamb and chicken had Duffys for the sandwiches she made, and she offered to sell me a jar. I bought it. As well as other things from other vendors. And the Duffys -- I recommend them. I also got the jalapeno relish up the road. For the future...

Meanwhile, a parent of the third duo who played the Etude-Fantasies in LA put a video up on YouTube, so one can hear them -- red Etude-Fantasies link up there. If you really look hard on UToob, you'll also find me coaching the same two -- I myself can't watch it, 'cause, like, you know, it's me. E

So here I am after driving back this morning, Beff and I skyped the bill paying info, I went into town, hammocked a bit, and mowed some lawn before the lawnmower overheated. Stupid me put my hand on a very hot part to see if it was still hot, and the answer was in the affirmative. This paragraph was typed with only my RIGHT hand.

So here comes Utah, there goes Utah. August is serene, mostly, with dentist visit, checkup, etc. but no traveling of which I am aware. More RELAX. And that makes Davy not a dull boy.

This week's pictures were, unsurprisingly, taken in Vermont, and are what they appear to be. The one in front of a house and tree -- that's the house in which I grew up. My sister used to jump over that tree. Bye.

AUGUST 13 Breakfast was fake eggs, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was Cast Iron Kitchen leftovers -- blackened swordfish and sticky rice, in my case. Dinner last night was salad and Buffalo wings at the Halfway Cafe. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 54.3 and 93.6. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Double Fantasy -- just ripped it from a CD just arrived from Phoenix Concerts. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Not much beyond the usual expenses. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY US Airways, just 'cause. Because like all other airlines except Southwest, bags and food are extra. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY US Airways for punctuality, helpfulness, and for my finally discovering that one could park rather close to the counter at Logan Airport. PET PEEVE Lawnmowers that conk out three months after you buy them, and the repair people who presume it's because you didn't baby yours enough. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Way back when -- I was probably 12? 13? -- my father brought home a stray black and white tiger cat that had been found in the paper mill where he worked. The cat was a little skittish, but when it was petted, it purred loudly. So I suggested we name it Percy, after the purring. We did. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Random meowage. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: flageolimi, a ragged generic shape. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWOWEEKS: 3. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE bendy thumbs that are also perpetually crackable. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Trampolines for everybody. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 15,155. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.67 in Maynard, $2.75 in Burlington, $2.66 in Maynard. THE LOGARITHMIC SCALE SKIPS OVER THESE sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.

When last this space was filled with new verbiage, the verbiage was new, though the world was still very, very old. Much older than you. Much older than me. Much older than you and me put together -- presuming that was even possible. And now these words -- these very words you read right now. Are newer than the older words. And the world is still very, very old.

Second verse, same as the first.

When last there was intrepidness in this space, I had burned my palm on the lawnmower and I was soon to embark in a westerly direction, going two time zones earlier. Because of the lawnmower stupidness -- I had no suitable vehicle for transporting the existing (yellow) lawnmower for warranty service -- I up and got another (black) one (they are so inexpensive nowadays!) at Aubuchon Hardware in town, and they delivered it! For free! Just like they delivered the grill! For free! And with much sweating aforethought, the rest of the lawn got mowed. And the big pile of bills got paid, just like they are supposed to so that we can continue to cook, heat, compute, make phone calls, and play with our dimples.

And then I made an early, early drive to Logan Airport to catch the 6:25 am for Phoenix, with a plane change there for Salt Lake City. I hadn't noticed before that there is a separate path to "Parking for B terminal", where US Airways resides, so I took that and parked and got on the elevator. Lo and behold, when I exited the elevator, the US Airways counter was about thirty feet away. Excellent, so my nefarious plan is working. I did the stuff everyone else has to do to be certified airworthy. On the way out to Utah, I sat next to small people, which meant I had plenty of elbow room if I needed it.

And I was going to Utah for a four-day sentence, to do the beezness of the Barlow Prize and Barlow commissions. The beezness end of what we did, and how we got there is private. The composition of the advisory board is public, though, and there were two new members this year: Todd Coleman and Stacy Garrop. I was to meet Todd at the Canyonlands Transportation desk in the airport for our ride to the Snowbird Ski Lodge, where all the beezness takes place, and that I did. Snowbird is a sprawling complex of at least four large buildings, trams, sports, trails, etc., with a ton of shops and restaurants. And our meals were covered, and very good. It was easy to gain several pounds per day from the eating alone. I went from a full breakfast (Monday) to none (Thursday), and had lots of good food. Plus, I got in one long walk along one of the trails on site.

It was three days of hard work, a brief Thursday morning meeting, and off we went, not to be seen in the same configuration again for another year. And we will, Oscar, we will. During my time at Snowbird, not much else got done beside e-mail and eating.

On the trip back, I sat exclusively next to very wide people. It was fun, and sometimes scary, to view the manifestations of the monsoon effect in that part of the country, which was manifesting itself earlier than is customary -- large, high, billowy clouds in abundance -- and landing in Phoenix when it was overcast! The view for the nighttime landing in Boston was nothing less than spectacular. What was LESS than spectacular was paying $7 for a snack plate filled with $1.08 worth of cheese and grapes. Oooh!

Upon my return, I drove home and arrived in my own house at 12:20 Friday morning, slept until I stopped, and then drove back to Vermont. Since that's where Beff was still working for VYO, and where the cats were, and all my stuff. That Friday night I fended for myself for dinner, since Beff went out for dinner with the staff; on Saturday we had a full meal, using up as much of the fridge food as possible, and on Sunday morning we embarked Maynardwards again. And I had the cats. That ride was uneventful, since I beat the vacation traffic by several hours, and reinstalling my clothes, computer, food, etc., took as long as expected. And then we were resettled.

Beff, however, embarked on Monday for Maine, and I reinstated my regiment of bike riding, discovering some places I hadn't seen yet, since bits of the Wildlife Preserve are closed to the public for road construction. Poop. Which is dood spelled upside down. It always has been. It always will.

So what have I been doing this week? Bike riding. Relaxing. A LOT. And entering the cello and many strings piece into Finale. And writing an epic blog entry. Actual, several blog entries, two of them arguably epic. Beff was back Wednesday, which was our twenty-first wedding anniversary, and we celebrated with a walk to, and dinner in, The Cast Iron Kitchen. It was lovely. Plus, the picture from our wedding that I posted on my Facebook wall got like twenty comments.

Yesterday's adventure was to see, IN THE THEATER, Inception. A two-and-a-half hour thriller about dreams and dreams within dreams that was very entertaining, very expensive, very much bite-sized, and nearly without humor. Apparently the entertainment rags are all abuzz with ideas about just what is reality and what is dream in the movie, and caring about that is not done by me. So the movie was a 25-minute drive away, at the Solomon Pond Mall (a very wise and wet place, apparently), and we went without lunch in order to take in the 12:30 showing. Thus, upon our return, we went to the Halfway Cafe for dinner, and I got my Buffalo wing fix. Beff got one of the SEVEN FOR SEVEN meals (seven meals priced at seven bucks) -- swordfish kebabs -- which was really quite good. And we walked home, until we stopped. After dinner, I began an epic blog post that I finished at lunch time today, while Beff was getting a filling done at the dentist. So we had leftovers from our anniversary dinner for lunch, took a nice bike ride, and here I am. Doing ANOTHER blog post. But this one is different. For this one has no reflection in a mirror.

Coming up -- eye doctor, checkup, teeth cleaning all lined up this month. But I am at home, hardly at all mobile, until I go Yaddowards in October. And it's been seven summers since I indulged myself with some extended relaxing time, and here it is. Here I am. Relaxer, c'est moi. The only thing keeping me from relaxing on my own hammock is -- posting this update. Dear reader, you are worth it.

This week's pictures include the pickle et al haul from Vermont, several Utah pictures, the last sunset from our Vermont time, a lovely cruet I got at Bennington Potters in Burlington (Jared got a similar one), and the nearby Ben Smith Dam showing evidence of how dry this summer has been. Bye.

AUGUST 27 Breakfast was orange juice and coffee. Dinner was a Lean Cuisine steamed chicken thingie and salad. Lunch was two Trader Joe's salmon burgers. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 50.9 and 90.3. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Starting Something, or something like that -- a Motown tune that was playing in Whole Foods. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Every time I go to Whole Foods; a year's worth of contact lenses, $160. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Acton Ace Hardware, holding on to the broken lawnmower more than two weeks now, without a peep; and the supermarkets (Whole Foods, Donelans) who aren't currently stocking anything but generic large things of ice tea. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Trader Joes, for all the instant breakfast stuff I could procure. PET PEEVE Wacky summer New England weather. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: In my senior year of high school, David Smith used to drive us to the two nearby I-89 rest areas to root through the trash for his beer can collection -- for a minor, he had quite a sizable collection. Besides the usual Canadian beers (LaBatts, Molson, O'Keefe), we occasionally scored truly unusual ones, such as Tooth's KB Lager, from Australia. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Both cats napping on the double-wide cat scratchers. I suppose they like the texture. See Cammypic below. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: trazzic, the state of being for a blade of grass no longer using chlorophyll. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWOWEEKS: 4. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE ear hair -- where'd THAT come from? WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Everything except garlic tastes like garlic. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 15,232. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.66 in Maynard. WHEN YOU HEAR "THUD", YOU DON'T THIS IS WHAT MADE IT sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.

Dear reader, the weather is very nice and very dry outside, and the vagaries of New England weather have been creating all sorts of havoc -- not just the one kind that you and I are used to. More on that as it becomes available. Wait -- it just did.

It has been a mostly dry (as in, nearly rain-free) summer, and that's meant a few interesting things now being made manifest. The quince tree, normally producing four or five fruits per year, is a-bursting with issue, and some of the leaves are turning. That is, changing color, not changing direction. Plus, there are lots of brown or bare spots on the lawns, and there hasn't been much need of mowage.

That changed with an old sock-er-oo from a summer Nor'easter (still don't know why they take the "th" out of there, but you know). Them what make had first predicted a day of light rain, and then when it was actually upon us, a second day of drizzle as the storm moved slowly. The final edict was for it to linger three days and dump five or six inches of rain -- half a summer's worth! -- including about three hours of a steady downpour on its third day. On the fourth day, it rested. And on that fourth day, it cleared up spectacularly -- indeed, in a mere three days a lot of us had forgotten what it was like for it to be sunny (we are so spoiled). And as the air squeezed the humidity out, two things that affected ME happened, and things that affect ME are all I care about here.

Yesterday morning -- which was that fourth day -- as I was entering notes into Finale, the smoke alarm by the front door went berserk. It kinda hurt my ears as I unmounted it and took out the battery, thinking it might be a battery malfunction. I put in a fresh one, and the alarm again went berserk. I trolled the house for sources of smoke, finding none. So I brought the detector into the porch and put the battery in -- berserk. I took it into the back yard -- berserk. I took it into the garage -- berserk. So I just put it down. Yesterday evening, I put the battery back in, and it was back to normal.

Meanwhile, I was unable to start the grill to cook my salmon burgers -- the spark thing made the noise, but no fire. It smelled icky, so I figured there was gas. So I used a fireplace fire starter to start the fire, and all was well. Later in the afternoon I tried again, and it started up just fine. So by using logic, and boringness, I figured the supreme wetness and the sudden dryness caused those wacky things to happen.

Beff and I took several bike rides in the GOOD weather, and none in the downpours. Beff was going to and from Maine, anyway, for such lofty things as Chair Retreats and Open Houses. For such a thing we went in to town on Saturday, I got stuff at the Farmers Market, and Beff got an eye exam. Because of this Open House thing, slated to last all day, I suggested Beff get a wide-brimmed hat to shield from the sun. I also agreed to get a somewhat wide-brimmed hat for myself, for lounging in the back, so we could be parallel. Beff got a nice sun hat that actually makes her look like she went up by one or two pay grades. I got a hat that makes me look more like, say, a fly fisherman, or Stanley and Livingston. But I am worth it. I only wear it inside and in the back yard, though.

The hat purchase saga was followed by our only meal out in this reporting period: Buffalo wings, quesadilla, swordfish skewers at the Halfway Cafe.

There were also two very productive creative bursts in this period, during one of which I read a great deal of Rick Moody's new book The Four Fingers of Death. Great read, very fast read, and it's a great book. Rick, by the way, had recommended I read some Richard Brautigan, and I ordered some books from amazon. I have just started reading some, and enjoy it, in a different way. Apparently my writing style in my blog reminded Rick of Brautigan. Bring it on, I say. Then, I burp.

Meanwhile, the school year has started, and giving a flying fig about that is not being done by me. Mindy Wagner, though, will be coming in and probably staying Sunday nights for the school year, since she teaches at the 'Deis on Mondays. Therein will be a new pattern. And there promises to be a fair share of giggles.

And I continue to write a hard piece for tanti archi. And taking bike rides.

On the middle of the three days of rain, Beff and I drove to Gloucester for lunch with Rob Amory, and an almost completely new experience happened. Rob served Duck Trap smoked trout. I hate trout. It's fishy, and I've never liked it. But I LIKED the Duck Trap smoked trout, even having some seconds. Woo hoo! So after my cleaning at the dentist this morning, I stopped at Whole Foods and got some. Plus, it being Whole Foods, I didn't stop there -- mahi mahi burgers, lowfat chicken sausage, tuna burgers, pitted olives with hot peppers ... if there's a way to get even one more item into the freezer, I don't know it.

Coming up -- more of the same. I blog on occasion. I don't blog on occasion. I'm on a 15-bar-a-day regimen, which, given I'm writing fast music, isn't a whole lot in terms of time. But, I tell you, and I tell you with all meritriciousness -- it's deep. And kind of tall, too. With a few green flecks that glint in the light. What's up with that? Yearly checkup on Tuesday. Our birthday dinner for Beff, on the 16th, will be at the Nashoba Winery, dig that. Other than that, not much. Woo hoo!

This week's pictures: Cammy on the cat scratcher, a burnt out bulbup close, the Ben Smith dam again with accumulated smelly green stuff, the quince tree, the early fall colors, and an isolated turning leaf. Bye.

SEPTEMBER 10 Breakfast was orange juice and coffee. Dinner was a Lean Cuisine turkey breast entree. Lunch was aTrader Joe's Margherita pizza. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 54.0 and 83.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It). LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Whole Foods, $93. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Acton Ace Hardware (again), holding on to the broken lawnmower more than four weeks now, without a peep. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY The companies that Beff got us new t-shirts from. PET PEEVE Funny industrial smells emanating from nearby businesses. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Margaret made me a ruffled shirt and a cummerbund and a bow tie for her prom my senior year.They were nice (pic below), though alas it meant plunking down plenty of the parents' money to rent a tux to contextualize them. For my own prom, I wore a leisure suit. I mean, didn't everybody? NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: When both of them stare outside from the narrow window where Beff sits at breakfast. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions, Recordings, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: arosco, an arid section of deep woods. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWOWEEKS: 4. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE The only fingernails I don't bite are my index fingers. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Words with double e's now have triple e's. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 15,232. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.59 in Maynard with Shaws five-cent discount. AT THE BIG TOP, THEY NEVER GET AROUND TO SAYING sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.

As the sabbatical continues on apace, I continue to say "on apace". I'm on apace to write a whole bunch of music this year. MWA ha ha.

Call me Martler

Work on RIGHT WING ECHO CHAMBER or TALKING POINTS or whatever I'm going tocall it has gone on, though it's been in a thick and chewy climax for a while now, and writing it hurts my head, hands, back, mouse hand, body, and brain. So I took a brief break from it and started kickin' it oldstyle.

Being that I've sworn off etudes, and nocturkas didn't seem all that refreshing a genre, I migrated right over to a piano prelude, whose aspects governed my idea for the aspects to be shared by future preludes. And by the way, one down, ninety-nine to go. We'll see. There must be at least 25, of course, because it would be appropriate to kick Chopin's butt TWICE in the same lifetime. Uh, because, and, you see, Chopin wrote twenty-four preludes. Twenty-five preludes would be more. Chopin also wrote twenty-seven etudes. One hundred would be more.

So the first prelude takes off on the "little" C minor prelude of Bach that I'm sure I played parts of for all my piano-playing years. There isn't an intermediate-level "Music of the Masters!" piano book that doesn't have that one in it, after all. The title is a palindrome (Moody, My Doom), so all the titles of book one (they'll be in BOOKS?) will also be palindromes. Hot diggity. There is also a palimpsest within that I'm not yet ready to reveal. But I DO have an annotated PDF of it showing the palimpsest. Of all the palimpses in the world, it's definitely the palimpsest!

The 'lude took six days, as did Etude #1. Spooooky. But six days is not a limit for 'ludes, and since I crossed out whole measures and revised while writing it, the non-revision clause of etude-writing has been voided. Now you know.

As to the other big piece, I have been slogging away, and as I type this, Fred and his cohort in the low string section are getting more and more lyrical, after a section of outbursts that just get parroted by the other strings. Those other strings, meanwhile, are in boxes -- as in, improvise rhythmically, col legno battuto, on these two or three notes. With any luck, it'll sound like a bag of safety pins being emptied onto the floor. A really big bag. Soon -- soon in the piece, but more like two or three compositional days away -- there will be a big spacy chord accumulating. Because it's what I do. Like in the finale of the piano concerto, except without chatter stones. It's a good thing that eight violins and violas col legno battuto sounds a lot like eleven violins and violas col legno battuto, since that allows me to build in page turns three players at a time. Being practical is a heavy burden.

Meanwhile in the outdoors, there has been little need for lawnmowing, but there has been some, anyway. The quince of unusual quantity are bending the limbs of the quince bush, and yet another cavalcade of pine cones fell and necessitated twenty minutes of raking. Bike rides have continued as they do, and we've done the nature preserve several times, as well as West Acton and the nature viewing area (a different ride).

I did my doctor's appointment, whose double bar is always the doctor's hand up my butt (prostate exam, eww), and had an extra blood test. Yes, they took four vials instead of three because my brother had an ankle operation followed by a blood clot migrating to his lungs and a six-day stop in IC. What I never knew was that the Type 5 Lutein something or other is genetic on my maternal grandfather's side, and various family members -- including my sister -- have regularly taken a blood thinning prescription that also functions as rat poison. I had that test, and don't have the gene. Meanwhile, as a way of taking up space, I report my other numbers: Cholesterol 171, HDL 74, LDL 78, Triglycerides 97, Cholest ratio 2.31. All are good.

I meanwhile rescued some stuff from the attic when I wanted a particular old picture for a blog entry. That included scanning some other old pictures, too, which I have generously shared below. Hee hee hee.

And school started. Not for me, of course, because I have decided on the life of sloth and unkemptitude, for now. But a new feature is that Mindy Wagner stays in the guest room on Sunday nights and goes in early to teach at the 'Deis on Mondays. So that first time happened, and she arrived while it was still light, we had fun, a bit of Dubonnet (everything tastes better with Dubonnet on it), and on her first Monday there was breakfast and getting her to Brandeis as the second vehicle in a 2-vehicle convoy. I wanted to go in and get some files off my computer anyway, and when I got there I found out there was a department barbecue later that day. Thus, I returned for that. Meanwhile, I made some introductions and got out of the way. At the barbecue I had only tomatoes, cucumbers and green peppers -- my cholesterol test was the next morning, and look how swimmingly it turned out -- and got to meet some of the new graduate composers. Who may have seen me for the only time of the whole semester. Except they may see me Sunday at Jared's piano recital.

Meanwhile, news of various performances that I haven't gotten around to putting in. And Amy's tango project CD -- recorded in June, 2005 -- finally gets released on Ravello Records on October 26.

Coming up -- the completion of TALKING POINTS, me hopes. Beff's birthday and a dinner before that at the Nashoba Winery. Bike rides. Sloth and unkemptitude.

This week's pictures are old. Bye.

SEPTEMBER 29 Breakfast was orange juice and coffee. Dinner was a Trader Joe's microwave shephard's pie and a tomato from the farmer's market. Lunch was a pesto chicken sandwich and fries at the Blue Coyote Grill. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 39.8 and 87.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Finale of Stolen Moments. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Toy instruments from , $67; Amtrak tickets $99; chimney cleaning $169; Ricks Picks $47; any time I do Whole Foods. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Acton Ace Hardware (again again), holding on to the broken lawnmower more than four weeks, charging 35 bucks for "debris removal" and then presenting it to me with a layer of sawdust on it. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY for the plethora of different stuff I got from them, one-stop. PET PEEVE Another year of fecundity in the pine cone falling department. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: We got a new gym teacher when the new elementary school opened up, and we called him Mr. P -- since Pequignot was apparently too hard to say. In my eighth grade year he started a soccer team, for which I did not try out, but was guilted into joining. I played left wing, which was a good predicter of my future. I don't remember who our first game was against -- there were 10 in the season -- but it was at the newly-defunct Barlow Street School. Our team got the ball to begin with, the center passed it to someone else, who passed it to me, and as one of their guys came barreling in at me, I kicked the ball wildly in the direction of the distant goal. Then I was decked. I got up to see the ball sailing in the goal, over the hands of their goalie. We won the game 1-0. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 1. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Back to making the circuit of windows to look out. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Compositions, Performances, Piano Music (new page). THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: gradintal, a mysterious substance that collects on insects' legs when they crawl up trees. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWOWEEKS: 7. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I like spoonerisms and palindromes. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Everybody thinks "elbow" is a very funny word. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 15,248. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.58 in Maynard. GIFTS YOU DON'T GIVE THE GREAT PUMPKIN sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.

I type to you, dear reader, on a warm and sticky summer's day. One that just happens to lie in the end of September, and what's up with that? Drought-ending rain is on and off, and it's become tropical here with oppressive dew points. Oppressive enough that three of the smoke detectors have had the batteries removed because they are going off. As you know, smoke detectors going off is pretty loud.

Also as I type this, Beff is on her way to Jackson Hole, Wyoming for some sort of convocation of music administrators: Bangor to New York to Dallas to Jackson Hole. I hate it when that happens. Because of my impending Yaddodom, the need for the cats to get to Maine, and Beff's administrator retreat, I will be in charge of boxing them up (they love that) and taking them to the house in Maine. Then, I must be back in time for the Dinosaur Annex concert with pieces by Mindy and lots of other people I know. And then, and then, packing and lawn things -- especially the storing of the lawn and gazebo furniture, since who else is going to do it? Plus, since there's no lawn mowing left to do for the season, there's the running of the lawnmowers (plural!) so that they run out of gas and can be stored.

The last weekend that Beff was here was our annual hostafest -- hostas that frame the front walk -- in which Beff stabs at them with a rake and I mow them. It's a ritual not without its benefits, but which is of course hard on the lawnmower. The storing of the Adirondack chairs and the cushions, etc. still has to take place. Because it is so juicy this week, I have to wait for the weekend, when it finally dries out.

Much bicycle riding has been done, enough to once again break another rear inner tube. Sigh, the ritual walking of the bicycle to the bike shop happened, the tires were mondo-inflated, and the ride through the nature preserve thus got much harder. We also rediscovered the nearby hiking trails on Summer Hill, and I've taken that recreational/exercisical walk quite a few times now. We never run into anyone else there, so it is quite serene. I'll be doing that walk later today, because worth it is what I am, so there.

"Talking Points" was finally finished, and I spent a day and a half extracting and producing the parts and mailing them off. Apparently it is unusual for anyone to finish pieces on time for this group, so they were grateful. It's a hell of a hard piece, which I would suppose wouldn't have a lot of prospects for a second performance. So this one better be realllllly good. And I recaptured the ability to make 11x17 bound scores, which is a pain.

Also, two more preludes were written, both with palindromic titles: Never Odd or Even, and Too Hot to Hoot. I ordered several palindrome books from amazon, by the way, and was quite impressed by how much time anyone would ever spend compiling such very long collections of them. I will still need seven more palindromic titles eventually, and I guess this is a good place to start.

Ah yes, there were two sojourns into my place of employment: one for a routine meeting to do with a reappointment, and one to meet Steve Dewhurst and his son David, who is college shopping, to give them a tour of the place. That part was fun, and when we started trying to figure out schedules for the whole family to get together with us for dinner, I realized the next possible time was the Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend. Amaze. The last time I had seen Steve and his wife Sarah (both five letters), was when Sarah was pregnant with David, the college-shopper. So it's been a while. But it's definitely their turn to come and see us.

I also had to meet, for the first time in my life, with a yard care guy. Since we won't be around to do the leaves this year, we are paying someone $550 to come twice and suck up all the leaves, of which there are many -- last year, 104 barrels. Plus, it's a second consecutive fecund year for acorns and pine cones to drop. What's up with that? Oh yes, and the quince bush, barren last year, is very fecund this year. They are now yellow and dropping. Nobody knows what to do with quicne except make jelly.

I have continued to write blog entries, which are soon to be few and far between. I like it when that happens.

I also made an appointment to hear Tony de Mare play my Sondheim arrangement in Manhattan next month -- I mostly agreed to do it because the view from the Amtrak train Saratoga to New York is spandalicious. While in Manhattan, I'll make an afternoon of it with Rick Moody and do an early dinner with Amy and Hazel (average four letters).

Oh yes, and Beff will come to visit me at Yaddo during Columbus Day weekend -- my first weekend there. That will mean she'll bring the cats back to Maynard, Mindy will feed them,and then she'll take them right back to Bangor. Poor kitties.

And Geoffy is here this week for Musica Viva gyrations. It's always good to see Geoffy.

Coming up: stuff.

All of this week's pictures are of nature stuff. Mushrooms from the back yard plus a day of driving rain makes for fungus plus mold and interesting and weird visuals. Plus, there's a sneakerprint. Bye.

NOVEMBER 21 MISSING

DECEMBER 4 Breakfast was Trader Joes french toast, orange juice and coffee. Dinner was teriyaki salmon from Whole Foods, potatoes, salad, and beer. Lunch was basil tomato soup and a Buffalo chicken wrap at the River Rock restaurant. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 21.93 and 63.0. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS MIDI of a sax quartet movement. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Two Zoom H1s with accessory paks, $250. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY the local CVS for not having enough cashiers on hand. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Museum of Fine Arts for the stuff in the new wing; Bolton Farms store for having exotic potato chips. PET PEEVE an unusual proliferation of drivers who tailgate. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When the NEC Chorus did their summer 1978 tour of Israel, I was with them (because, you see, I was in the chorus), and we performed about five times, I think. We also got a few bus tours, including the Dead Sea and Jericho (where I had a conversation with a goat), and the Rubin Academy. I didn't get to see the Rubin Academy, though, because Cheryl Welsh, who had been sitting with me, fainted, and the PEOPLE IN CHARGE had left the bus already; it didn't seem right to leave her by herself, even though THE PEOPLE IN CHARGE seemed not to have any problems with that. She woke up just about as the tour ended and everyone was getting back on the bus. So I haven't see the Rubin Academy. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Both cats taking turns sleeping near my head, between about 4:30 and 6. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: areelano, a hybrid lettuce of which only one survived. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 17. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I haven't worn new winter boots yet that I got last December -- what with the old ones still hanging on. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: a whole lot less use of the term "smart phones". PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 15,457. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.87 in Maynard, twice, with Shaws 5-cent discount. THINGS THAT WOULD MAKE A BETTER CONGRESS THAN THE CURRENT ONE sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.

I am still not at Yaddo. But in a manner of speaking, and speaking timelyly, I am *almost* at MacDowell. Put that in your pipe and lubricate it. Because, you know, otherwise who will?

So, and, of, after all that that was accomplished at Yaddo, much less has been accomplished at not-Yaddo. To be sure, I have begun a piece for instrument, instrument, instrument, instrument, instrument, and instrument, and it bears a few unusual things for me -- to wit, a substantial change of tempo, and molto revisions (that's mixed languages there). Soon I'm going to have to start the Finale input just so I can see just what it is I hath wrought. What a tangled web we weave when first we practice to conceive.

Otherwise, stuff happens. Grocery shopping, calling the slate roof specialist about our roof (a little bit of drippy-stains on the computer room ceiling), saying "tra la la" hardly at all, more grocery shopping, and settling into the normal routine, if only for two weeks. Most mundane task: ordering a new ATM card, as the old one was to expire while I am in France. See? I told you it was mundane.

I did have a few even more mundane score/parts things to accomplish, and such things always suck souls, and in this case it was mine. Then there was a bit of getting ready for Thanksgiving, and then ... gasp ... actually doing Thanksgiving, which was much fun, and moreso than usual.

For you see, Hayes and Susan came for the Thanksgiving thing, arriving in time for a very informal dinner (jeans allowed) the night before Thanksgiving (and all through the house). For that dinner, it was mahi mahi burgers, chicken burgers, and chicken burgers (thin chicken, thick chicken, that is), plus a nearly endless supply of Malbec (thank you Yaddo fellae). They turned out all to be tasty, and we pronounced it good. We did not pronounce "it good", except during the Caveman sketch we didn't get around to presenting.

Thanksgiving itself was as could be expected. I had gotten a fresh, not frozen, turkey, so there was no defrosting to do, and I had done the Beff's sister Ann thing of having too much food around. The four of us did a brief walk through the Acton Arboretum, which is not very scenic when all the leaves are brown and the sky is gray (but they were missing, and the sky was bright blue). Then we came back. Snacks of cheese and crackers and celery and olives were prepared the lunch time, then there was the cooking of the multiple nefarious ingredients -- turkey, stuffing (Beff did that), squash, mashed potates, cranberry sauce (whole berry, in a can), gravy (Trader Joe's, in paper soup boxes). And Susan brought an amazing chocolaty goodness pie with Cool Whip and other nefarious stuff. There was a nearly endless supply of Malbec. We set up in the dining room (duh) by adding a leaf to the table (not for modesty's sake, like they did in the Victorian age, but you know), and ate. And drinked.

After the meal there was a Festa fest -- we watched both of the films that Paul Festa, a multi-hyphenated artist, had given me on DVD: The Glitter Emergency and Apparition of the Eternal Church. The latter films people listening to a Messiaen organ piece and gets their reactions -- guess what the organ piece is called. Then there was various other watching, and for one of the very few times each year, the dishwasher was put to use. How 'BOUT that!

For the day after Thanksgiving, we set out to Boston and parked near NEC -- one of the few places I know about in Boston for dependable parking, since it's where I parked when I taught there -- and walked to the Museum of Fine Arts (four blocks, as the crow barfs), where for $20 we got the run of the place. Along with thousands of other people paying $20. The idea was to spend up to 3 hours looking at the new ART OF THE AMERICAS wing that opened recently, which was on three levels and densely packed (both with people and with art). An hour and a half was just about enough time to get through it all and to make all of us seriously pooped. So we found a barfing crow to get us back to the car, hung out a bit at home (after driving home), and did dinner at the Cast Iron Kitchen. Where the food exuded its customary fabulosity. We walked to and from the CIK because, you know.

Hayes and Susan left on Saturday morning, and Beff and I got down to brass tacks. Then we discovered that we don't have any brass tacks, so we just got down. Some of which was emanating from a rip in the down duvet we have on the bed. So I adjusted the duvet so that the down wouldn't go up, and then started to wonder about what the point of this paragraph is. Self-awareness, probably, or self-referentiality.

Also during this period, I went into Brandeis no fewer than TWO times -- the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and the Monday after it -- to sit in on PhD orals. Since composition is shorthanded this year, both Yu-Hui and I -- on leave essentially without pay -- are pitching in. At least I got to learn a new weird Schubert piece this time. And for the first time in many weeks I got to see Mindy Wagner, who stays here on Sunday nights after driving from New Jersey, in order to teach at Brandeis on Mondays. As expected, we stayed up giggling until midnight. And went into Brandeis at the same time.

Mundane things include the Tire Pressure light coming on on my car on the way into Brandeis, prompting me to take the car to the dealer on Tuesday morning. They couldn't find anything wrong, really, and there was no charge. Good thing: free breakfast when you take you car in in the morning. So I kinda made out. Otherwise -- just a cleaning appointment at the dentist on Thursday, and a bit of old, old filling broken off that has to be fixed next month before I go Franceward. So ist die welt.

And there were two days of work on this instrument, instrument, instrument, instrument, instrument and instrument piece, which with the original tempo came out to 45 seconds of music, and 35 seconds with the revised tempo, though the obsessive revisions brought it back up to 45 seconds -- I'm on a "make my music breathe more" kick -- and I'll come back to it when I'm set up at MacDowell, with my own fireplace and 31 new names to learn. Actually, they are old names, just new to me.

Other than that. Beff is back for her customary weekend stay, and we take our walks. We even capped yesterday's walk by treating ourselves to a lunch at the River Rock Grill. The Rapscallion Honey beer I had was closer to Budweiser than I would have liked. My wrap was big enough to wrap and have for lunch again today (Davy, that's the least clear writing ever and I know you don't care). Shortly, after this report is filed, Beff will update her own page, and we will do our customary Saturday walk (because, hee hee, it's Saturday). This morning, after breakfast, by the way, we took a scenic drive, thus explaining the scenic pictures below, and stopped at Bolton Orchards for some macoun apples, bread for garlic bread for tonight's pasta, and decidedly unexotic Christmas gifts.

So MacDowell here I come. I will immediately seek out the softest plaster in whatever studio I have for head banging as I work on this silly instrument, instrument, instrument, instrument, instrument and instrument piece. And take long walks in the cold and snow, and learn 31 or more locally new names. And then, and then ... well, Christmas is coming, and the caboose is getting fat. I just made that joke up. Please pay me ten dollars or more.

Pictures include a lake view from Yaddo, our Thanksgiving setup, a great blue heron encountered at the arboretum, our house photographed at night, and two views from this morning's drive with me pointing to one of them. Bye.

2011

JANUARY 12 2011 Breakfast was orange juice and coffee. Dinner was Trader Joes chicken patty sandwiches and salad. Lunch was a Trader Joes flatbread pizza. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 7.9 and 59.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS MIDI of a sax quartet movement. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Purchase of Euros, $687. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY none. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Acton Toyota for the quick service and free breakfast. PET PEEVE large snowstorms. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Our eighth grade basketball team's #1 nemesis was Milton, 'cause like they had a Tall Guy. I always had to guard tall guy, and vice versa; it was the same tall guy I had to guard when we played them in soccer, it turns out. In a Christmas tournament, I recall being behind Milton 20 to 18, and I had two free throws. The gym was stone silent as I made them both, and we won the game eventually. It was probably the only time all year the cheerleaders knew my name. Wait -- we had cheerleaders? NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Now it's Sunny who sleeps by my elbow. UPDATED ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances, List of Compositions. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: tulanosis, a rare condition suffered by left-handed bass trombonists. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST SEVERAL WEEKS: 22. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I routinely crack my fingers, big toes, and elbows. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: complete lollipop makeovers. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 15,561. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $2.95 in Maynard, $3.04 in Maynard, $3.05 in Maynard. THE LIST THAT NEVER CHANGES sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.

Dear reader, as I type this, the second snowstorm of unusual size of the season occurs, and right outside my window! And the other windows, too! And earlier this morning there was lightning and thunder to go along with it. Whoo doggies! Climate change? Yes, climate change from your climate dollar! I don't know where to go with this joke.

I have been to the MacDowell Colony and back. And there, and back. And there, and back. And there, and back. Repeat to taste. For you see, my first two weeks there coincided with Beff's end of classes and exams and all, and I had to come back just 'bout every second or third day to feed the cats. Luckily, weather cooperated, and it's a short drive anyway. At around the three week mark, I did a three day vacanza in casa (that's Italian) for Christmas, and of course there was plenty of beezy house type work to get done, except when there wasn't. Then Beff came up for New Years Day, which we spent near Merrimack, New Hampshire -- home of the Thousand Island mayonnaisy dip for crackers, apparently. And we ate well. And finally, I had to take a two-day leave from the colony so that Beff and I could tabulate all the receipts for taxes. Is the extra two or three thousand bucks refund worth it? Yep.

The MacDowell part of the colony hop was more conventional than the Yaddo part -- as I had gotten to Yaddo after it was closed down for the month of September, and it had a smaller group, and it stayed constant for some time. At MacDowell, there were almost twice as many residents, and constant comings and goings and overlaps. I did finally get to know most of the names, and there was at least one composer I already knew anyway --- Alvin Singleton, and it was great to overlap with him by a week. There were also brief overlaps with younger composers, and a week overlap with Rufus Reid, a very well known jazz bassist who was there to write for orchestra. And Alexandra Grimal, a very accomplished jazz saxophonist was there when I arrived and is still there. She did a couple of really fine solo improvisations. For about three weeks, Alexandra and I were the only composers there -- and at a colony named after a composer!

As is usual, there were plenty of presentations, and mercifully not overlong. And as is customary, every one of them kicked major butt. I didn't want to give such a presentation, but Marilee, an actress/theater/multimedia type from the Bay area, talked me into doubling up with her one night. We got $114 worth of ingestments and imbibements, and she fell ill. So it was just me. I killed.

I had the Monday Music studio, which is one I had the first time (I've also had MacDowell, Watson, Kirby, New Jersey, and Omicron). It's a live-in studio of unusual teeniness, but it was mine. I brought firelogs for my fireplace and only had two fires the whole time -- I left the unused firelogs for my successor in that studio, whoever that may be. Lunches were always more than I could eat, but were very tasty, and dinners were customarily fine. One night the cook Scott roped me into doing pizza, which I did with aplomb. And as to making portions for various people who eat vegan, or are non-dairy, or have food allergies -- I insert the strange metaphor "piece of cake". Before the big snows came, I took plenty of walks along the trails in the woods, and that was about all the exercise that was available to me.

I was there to work on a piece for Cygnus, which I had been putting off for some time. It was going to be a Yaddo project, and I'd watched my Flip movies of Bill Anderson with his mandolin, guitar, banjo, and theorbo and listened to Harold's piece Brion and other stuff Cygnus had recorded. And at Yaddo, I punted. I wrote a saxophone quartet instead. Which, by the way, rocks. So finally at MacDowell, I could postpone no more, and I just let the place's magic kick in. I started with some tongue rams on the flute, and other goofy percussion sounds, and sooner than I could shake a stick, there was some actual music in the piece.

And on the last day of 2010, I finished the piece. The closest pun on the name "Cygnus" I could get for a title that hadn't already been taken was ZYG ZAG. So that is the name of my piece. Buy a vowel! Yes, I had a guitar with me to try stuff out, and I wrote down some licks and a chord progression for a projected duo with the mandolin -- and when I got to that point in the piece I realized I didn't have anywhere near enough musical materials. So I improvised. Meanwhile, I lent the guitar to Alexandra for a while anyway, since she too was writing for guitar. Now it's back, back, back! In Bangor! Because it's Beff's, and what use do I have for a guitar anyway?

Christmas here included the testosterone crew of Beff's siblings -- no sister on Christmas day, who had to run an event at her hotel in Albany. I had to make something for a Christmas dinner, so Beff and I went to Whole Foods and gathered a bunch of nice seasonal things to cook. Whole Foods did NOT have the steak tips I planned on making, so I was strangely able to get them at Shaw's instead. So on the day in question, arrived the siblage, presents were made and opened (I now have two American Express gift cards to use in France -- I hope--), and Matt and Beff and I went to the Wildlife Preserve to do a little walking around. The Visitors Center there is apparently finally open, and it looks like they plan on extending the road all the way to the street on the other side about two miles distant ... as if you cared, dear reader. Beff and I had already exchanged gifts -- she got me red luggage and I got her a Zoom H1 dontcha know -- and we did not get a full size tree this year. Instead, we got a much smaller one for more money. Which, unlike the tree we usually get, can be put into the car. With other things, too! The cute thing about that tree was getting an atomizer at CVS to "water" it. Because, well, and you know.

And Beff's sister arrived the day after Christmas, with son, thus beating the Blizzard of Oh Ten by just a little bit. Moi, I was already back at the Colony.

I have done scores and parts and have sent them out, and am now just counting up the time until I go to France -- which is on MLK Day. Things to accomplish have also included Toyota 20,000 mile service, the procurement of Euros, dentist and doctor's appointments, and pleading for extra pills for my prescriptions. The dentist appointment had been scheduled for today, but nobody -- nobody! -- is driving today. So it was rescheduled for tomorrow. 1:40. Be there or be square.

And my project in France will be a piano concerto. I am just now bouncing those ideas around. I return in mid-April, and then another piece, newly put onto the plate, will be written, me hopes. Then I would really like to spend every waking moment ironically on the hammock.

Since this is the oh so belated year end posting, here's the usual lists I put up, and of course they are about ME.

TRIPS

February to Chicago. Hyperblue, Super Bowl at Gusty's. Colloquium at Nawwestern.

April to Salt Lake City. Maurice Abravenel Lecturer, lessons, talk, concert.

April to Rochester. Eastman, talk, dinner, licky-faced dog named Mocha.

May to DC. Marine Chamber Orchestra.

May to Hudson, New York with Beff. Hymn project.

June to Vermont.

July to Vermont.

August to Salt Lake City. Barlow Foundation meetings.

Oct-Nov to Saratoga Springs -- Yaddo.

(from Yaddo) Oct to New York City -- Tony de Mare.

(from Yaddo) Nov to east of Cleveland -- I-Chen and Davytudes.

Dec to Peterborough, New Hampshire (MacDowell Colony).

NEWLY COMPOSED

Last half of Current Conditions, orchestra. 2-1/2 min.

Etudes #94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100a, 100b, 100. 25 min.

Talking Points (Right Wing Echo Chamber) cello and 16 strings 12 min.

Preludes #1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. 32 min.

Compass, saxophone quartet. 19 min.

Zyg Zag, mixed sextet. 17 min.

Today's photos are the 2010 monthly summary! So, in month order, we have ... JAN Sunny enjoying a gift box FEB me looking strangely red and Amy and Kate at Gusty's house for the Super Bowl party MAR Cammy coming in for treats APR a Grand Slam breakfast I cooked for Beff, and later, for me MAY cats protecting their territory in the back yard JUN a bridge over the Hudson as viewed from Frederick Church's house JUL one of many gorgeous Lake Champlain sunsets AUG a view towards the valley from Snowbird Lodge in Utah SEP Cammy discovers the scratching post for naps OCT the dining room at Yaddo NOV one of the ponds at Yaddo DEC Monday Music studio early in the morning as it snows. Bye.

APRIL 17 Breakfast was raspberries, blackberries, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was Trader Joes dumplings. Lunch was a turkey burger, raw materials procured at Whole Foods. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE -4.4 and 75.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "The Long and Winding Road", uglyass Phil Spector version. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Limo to Logan $120; taxi to Cassis $163; taxi to Cassis (Beff edition) $167; taxi to airport $138; Best Western Marseille (Beff edition) $138; Best Western Marseille $158; limo from Logan $120; gas $31; gas $31; gas $31; accountant $950. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Orbitz -- hey, thanks for the five hour layover in Frankfurt Airport, doodyheads; Lufthansa for not putting any monitors with flight info in the Flights to America airport module; L.L Bean, who made the new suitcase Beff got me for Christmas that is already falling apart. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Lufthansa, trouble-free flying and nearly-edible plane food; Best Western Marseille for unusually good dinner. PET PEEVE people who say, "Okay, here we go!" and then just stand there. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I was on the JV basketball team my sophomore year in high school, which means we played a meaningless game just before the varsity team played. Thus in the local papers, the last sentence of the sports report on the game was "and in the JV game, Dave Rakowski led with 8 points." Assuming I had 8 points and everyone else had fewer. My last serious asthma thing happened during January of that year, thus taking me out of school for two and a half weeks, and when I got back I quit the team and started to pursue drama instead. My JV colleagues were nice enough to steal my expensive specially purchased green basketball sneakers in my absence. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They are back in Maynard, and very needy. Especially at night, as they try to box me in on the south side and then try to be cute by purring loudly. NEW ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Performances, List of Compositions, Reviews 5. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: driantophobia, a fear of things that begin with vowels. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST THREE MONTHS: 14. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE When residencies begin, I am not slow/It's hip hip hip and away I go. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: nobody knows the word "Velveeta". PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 15,561 (Cassis photos not yet installed). WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $3.69 in Maynard, $3.79 in Bangor, $3.75 in Maynard. THERE'S GOLD IN THESE HERE HILLS sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.

Hop stop.

The epic colony hop of '10-'11 is over, and I am back into my routine, in a manner of speaking. In a speaking of manners. Well, there you go again. I was in the south of France for an epically long time, and good thing I had an epic piece to write -- as it took an epically long time to write, too. But lemme splain.

Somewhere between this winter's second Storm of the Century and its third Storm of the Century (centuries just got a lot shorter, didn't they?) I managed my escape into Le Pays de Bonne Fromage by using the usual modes of transportation. AAA Limo took me to the airport for about three-fourths the cost of a taxi (so there, smartypants), I waited around until I stopped, I took a plane to Frankfurt and then another one to Marseille. Fair enough. And I apparently saw the Alps on the way, not knowing that's what they were -- hey, snow-capped mountains in January aren't that uncommon, right?

In the meantime, I had done various readthroughs of chapters in my French For Travellers book, and while I didn't dwell on whether there should be a double "l" in "travellers", it was mostly a melange of words that made it back into my brain and seeped directly out my ears therein. Or thereout. I had been practicing, apparently for days, what to say to the cab driver in Marseille who was going to get $163.20 of my hard-won dollars (in their pitiful Euro manifestations) -- Je voudrais aller au Cassis, le Fondation Camargo, pres de la mer. By the time I got my luggage (it was, and still is, red), located the taxi stand, and remembered what country I was in, I punted. "Je vais a Cassis". I had been told by people, some of them actually French, that the terminal "s" in Cassis is pronounced, and yes, the cab driver spouted the word back at me with the final "s" pronounced. He also spouted a bunch of other words that were melange soup at the time. Funny how when cab drivers sense a really big fare (Cassis is 50 km from the airport), their eyes literally light up with dollar signs. Here in France, his eyes lit up with Euro signs, and they seemed to be in a variant of Caslon. The image didn't linger long enough for me to inspect the serifs and determine the actual font. Now I had seen the French for "address" given as "addres" in one book, or so I thought, so I mispronounced it when I said "L'addres est avenue jermini un". The Euros in the driver's eyes disappeared, and the eyes obtained a glazed look. (the actual word is "addresse") He uttered, "Cassis. GPS." and off we went.

35 minutes later, I was at the doorstep of the Camargo Foundation, having sat through an utterly gorgeous view on my way in -- down, down, down, down and wow! I said "tres jolie!", and the cab driver agreed. "Oui! Jolie!" And then finally, on being let off, I uttered my first complete French sentence in France. "Pouvez-vous faire un recette pour cent vingt Euro?" And the Euro signs appeared in his eyes again, this time in a Bodoni-flavored font. "Recette" apparently means both receipt and recipe. I'm sure that in context he knew I wasn't asking how to cook 120 Euros. I rang the "office" bell, heard "Oui?", and uttered my second complete French sentence, putting myself in third person: "David Rakowski est arrive" (sorry, don't know how to get the accent aigu on this Windows computer) Soon, Christian, who works in the office, let me in, and Connie Higginson, the Foundation's co-director with her husband Leon, gave me the tour and the skinny. I was installed in a gorgeous little house with a living room, kitchen, bedroom, and above all that, a very big studio with a piano and a large computer monitor. I witnessed a pale imitation of the gorgeous Mediterranean view and the town and the huge rock they call the Cape Canaille -- for it was a bit foggy and cloudy -- and I talked a bit with Connie. Who pronounced "Cassis" with no terminal "s". Then collapsed I in a stupor of jet lag.

That same night, though, Connie and Leon invited all the Fellows that had arrived that day -- 11 of the cohort of 12 plus spice (plural of spouse) -- to their place (50 feet from my studio) for a gathering and hand-delivered pizza. And plenty of boxed wine (the boxed wine was to become a fixture, and there were always three of them, representing, according to Leon, the French flag: red, white, and rose (row-zay). Casssis, and Provence, is especially a Rose region). After we all briefly introduced ourselves, described our projects, and milled about a bit, the pizza was served, little French table were set out, and I sat with Connie and Michele. More on all them Fellows later.

Or perhaps now. The mathematical formula for the cohort of 12 was 6 scholars (Doug -- annotated translation of a 17thC French text; Sandra -- book about food; Michele -- book about 18thC French travel writing; Min -- 19thC mapping and planning of Paris; Jim -- masks in 19th and 20thC Paris; Wendy -- European road movies), 2 writers (Natalie -- novel, Greek and France; Stephanie -- novel, New Orleans and environs), 2 visual artists (Barbara -- wall collages; Natalia -- video about the Three Maries), and 2 composers (Eric Moe and me). I had met Eric several times before Camargo, but didn't know him well. Though I liked the music of his I heard. Now I REALLY like it, and I got to know him pretty well. And Barbara of that list is his wife. The three of us did several restaurant runs during our time, especially to what we called "Disco Pizza" -- which had, for no apparent reason, a disco ball above the bar. And easily the best restaurant food in Cassis that I had.

All the Fellows were required to give presentations on their proejcts, and I went first, on Feb. 1, in my studio. Each presentation also included a reception that included snacks and the three boxed wines, so we lingered quite a bit. My project was a 40-minute piano concerto (my first concerto with a number! No. 2!) for Amy Briggs, and by the time I presented, I had 3 minutes of it that came out pretty much like I imagine gallstones being passed. After 3 days of work on it, I fired up Finale 2011, spent half a day entering the notes, and then optimized systems to taste, and ... one of the optimized systems had a stopped horn note on it, and the indication "Hn. 1" in really, really, really big type. I e-mailed Finale about it, they had a really complicated kludge for it, and I e-mailed them back: "That's your actual answer?" Thus did I take out the Finale 2006 file of Piano Concerto (it doesn't have a number), which has the same orchestra as No. 2 (it has a number), opened in in Finale 2010, deleted the music, and started again. Grr, I would have thought, if I had thoughts in onomatopoeia.

Rewinding a bit, I had had a long conversation with Amy (using the telephone) about what kind of stuff she'd like to have in a concerto. We settled on using the texture of Martler to start, in medias res, with references to that texture throughout the piece; Bach-like textures, sometimes, like the Bach keyboard concertos; jazz of various stripes; and orchestra sounds coming out of piano licks like in Points on a Curve to Find. Also, alas, I had a dream the day before I left with highly chromatic Gurrelieder-type harmony with orchestra and chorus, and particularly remember a slow chromatic turn figure, harmonized with half-diminished sevenths and all, with the chorus singing the words "The Postcards are traveling home". And I have a rule about using dreamed music, and chromatic turns are thus all over the concerto. Given that, I hit the ground running -- sometimes as if in quicksand -- in Cassis. The opening part was so hard to write I thought I'd never get the whole piece done in three months, and if I didn't have my 15 bar a day rule, I wouldn't have gotten through it. I would have spent my time, instead, pounding my head against the very beautiful velvet-covered walls in my studio.

Incredibly enough, I finished the first movement in about a month, and got to know the -- rather amazing -- work of the other Fellows, little by little, as we had two presentations per week. This pleased me, since I get energy from learning of the work of the others, and it greases my gears. That's a metaphor.

Being as Camargo gives you a kitchen and doesn't cook for you -- much -- there were the mundanities of finding the best supermarket (Eric and Barbara already had done that, and told me where to go -- Marche U, with an aigu on the e), doing the Wednesday and Friday morning open air markets, where I bought courgettes and fruits for my own nefarious purposes, and doing the actual cooking. Our living spaces were cleaned every other week, during which time we had to scram, and once a week Christiam drove us into Ciotat to Carrefour, a gigantic Wal-Mart type place that's a department store and grocery rolled into one. On my first such trip, I also had to get ink cartridges for Barbara, and luckily they had them, and she paid me for them. I also discovered what I always miss most in Europe -- good dill pickles! Made by a Polish company, and relabeled for the locals as cornichons au sel. So I was not at want of pickles. Of course we had to bring our own shopping bags, and since the trip was so infrequent, we shopped heavily. Luckily, my cleaning time coincided with the shopping time, so that's how I could scram. So there.

A few weeks into the fellowship period, there was a group expedition to see cool stuff in Marseille, and that's when I learned of the bus from Cassis to Marseille, and back, several times a day. Wow! And we saw a Courbusier apartment house (known to the locals as "the Courbusier"), had a nice meal near where the canals used to be, saw ancient layers under the Abbaye St. Victor, and walked to an old beautiful structure that fell into disrepair and was renovated. And saw, of all things, ancient Egyptian art there. Who knew?

Meanwhile, Milton Babbitt died, I got very sad, I wrote a remembrance for New Music Box, and retroactively made the piano concerto dedicated in his memory. The second movement is an elegy that gets faster through successive metric modulations until it gets to Amy's much-coveted fast Bach -- which, being a Davy piece, finishes by making the bass into a wild-eyed boogie woogie. Followed by a slow fugue on that chromatic turn, using some texture gimmicks stolen from Gusty Thomas's Jubilee.

I was halfway through the slow movement when Beff arrived. I used my new Cassis bus-taking chops, acquired Marseille subway chops and navette-to-the-airport chops to pick her up at the airport, and back to Cassis we went, by cab. This time I knew how to describe where to go (suivre les indications pour les Calanques), and there we were. While Beff was sleeping off the jet lag, I rambunctiously fell on my own stairs in the studio, which limited my mobility for the next week. But that night we went with a group to Disco Pizza, and it was good, brother.

Beff was there about 12 days, and we did work during the day, and, while I was recovering, Beff took some walks to the Calanques (steep narrow rocky inlets nearby) and did some food shopping. Both of us wrote not a small amount of music, and Beff did so downstairs with a gorgeous view and the door open. Did I mention the gorgeous weather? January to April was like spring turning into summer -- pretty much Stanford weather -- and coming back to Maynard means I'm getting to witness TWO springs this year. And what did I miss? The worst winter since 1996 -- which I also missed because I was in Rome. MWA ha ha.

Beatrice from the office lent me some crutches so Beff and I could do a tourlet of Marseille -- the word for crutches being bequilles, with an aigu accent on the first e. Unrelatedly, the Italian word is grucce. After that day, I got better and better, and we did some longer walks around Cassis, and a day trip to Aix -- the Monet town. There we ate well, did a nice museum, and walked a whole lot (I seriously wanted to find a pet store just to say "This is an Aix parrot!"). And then on Beff's exit day, I misread the bus schedule, and we fell right into a 5-hour gap in the schedule. Thus did we attack the Cassis cab stand, ask for a ride to the airport, which the drivers present didn't do. They did, however, procure Bruno for us, who happily took us there and spoke English to us. Guess what? Bruno thinks France is a little bit screwed up. We did the Best Western, had a really great dinner there, and got Beff to her flight on time. I navigated back, and worked very, very intensely for two days to finish my second movement. Exhausted that night, I went to bed late only to be awakened by my Camargo-owned cell phone. Beff, just returned to Maynard, asking to Skype. I must have looked 80 years old on Skype that night.....

More revelry of all kinds happened -- pot lucks, impromptu gatherings. And I started taking longer and longer hikes, eventually making it to the lip of the third Calanque (of eight), and to the top of the Cape Canaille. There are no fences to keep you from jumping off, or being blown off, the edge of the Cape Canaille, so it was a bit ...scary. But way fun. Meanwhile, the third movement of my piece is the jazz movement, so to speak, and with five very intense days of work (more than 15 bars a day), I finished the concerto on my penultimate Sunday in France. Statistics -- it's 42 minutes, and each movement, when finished, was the longest movement I'd ever written. Thus is I. 13 minutes, II. is 13-1/2 minutes, and III. is over 14 minutes. And there's a cadenza with stride piano in it, briefly. For you see, it was written for Amy, the QUEEN of stride. Or if she isn't she'll be so soon (I rigged the election). And with a week left, I finally felt loose and accomplished enough to do more recreational walking. And, on the recommendation of Eric and Barbara, I did the boat tour of the Calanques -- eight of them, stunningly gorgeous, going north up the coast as far as Marseille. And, of course, coming back.

On the LAST Sundy of our Cassis stay, the Fellows were responsible for a "cabaret" for the benefit of local Cassideans, and we did not disappouint. The scholars gave brief summations of their work, Natalia played bits of her film, Natalie read a bit of her novel that takes place in Cassis, Eric Moe played 2 of my preludes and his own piece "The Legend of the Sad Triad", and Barbara showed her wall collages in her studio to anyone that wanted. And my function? I played cocktail piano as the guests arrived, for 37 minutes. I know so few cocktail tunes that I also played Brahms, Ravel and Mahler (!), and I even figured out the bridge to "Saving All My Love For You" to have another available tune. The room got kinda loud as I played, so I had no fear of hitting wrong notes. Surprisingly, my colleagues listened, though, and thanked me for Girl from Ipanema and Whitney Houston. And after the cabaret, it was off to Fringale, a pizza place run by a cool Tunisian guy. And we saw that it was good.

While I was in Cassis, Ash Wednesday occured. Thus did Lent begin, and I withdrew from Facebook. As I always (well, twice now) do for Lent. Today, on the other hand is Palm Sunday, which has a double meaning for basketball players.

On my last day, I brought my sheets and towels, etc. back to the source, cleaned, packed, and got a ride to the Cassis train station, which I was seeing for the first time -- it's 4 kilometers from Cassis! I got a ticket to Marseille for 5.40 Euro, made sure to "composter" the ticket (validate it with a stamping machine), rode the train and no seats were available, took the bus to the airport and the courtesy shuttle to Best Western, and chilled. My flight was at 6:10 am (what idiot made these reservations? Oh yes, moi) and the first courtesy shuttle was 5 am, which I thought may not be early enough. Oh me of little faith: the shuttle got me (and two other Americans) to the airport at exactly 5 am. I checked my suitcase, went through security, and was at the gate at 5:09 am. The flight to Frankfurt had a pretty sunrise to see, and then there were those Alps, and then there were the five hours in Frankfurt. At least, amazingly, I did not have to go through security a second time. I went to duty free, and it was all crap, so I purchased nothing. The flight to Boston was uneventful, save one of the pieces of my suitcase that lets you stand it up sideways having broken off (Lufthansa's fault? LL Bean's fault?) AAA Limo took me back, and I immediately -- immediately! -- embarked for Halfway Cafe, and Buffalo wings for the first time in three months. I was as sated as it gets. Then I got food staples at Shaws, unpacked, and got ready to drive to Maine the next morning.

Which I did. Played with cats. Lunch with Beff at work. Nap. Played with cats. Dinner with Beff and Sea Dog (teri tuna sandwich). Then breakfast next morning, and bringing the cats back to Maynard, in boxes. Immediately they wanted out of doors (first time in three months), and off I went to Whole Foods for food staples. Oh yes, and to the post office to mail our tax voucher for the state of Maine, since we owed a little bit, and it was tax day ... Yesterday was Trader Joes, Staples, Donelans for more stuff, as well as yard work (pick up a huge limb that broke off a pine tree, for starters) and bringing out the lawn and gazebo furniture. And since I still have that arise early jet lag, I got up at 5 this morning (the cats had a lot to do with that), and here, dear reader, is where I started to type. Boing!

Upcoming, dentist for teeth cleaning. They had told me that a toothpaste called "Elgydium" was available in France, and it contains Chlorhexadine -- which is available in the US only by prescription (I get it because I have to proxa-brush one of the little caves in my teeth where a wisdom tooth was taken out). I didn't discover that toothpaste anywhere until after I left Beff off at the airport. So I'm bringing some as a gift to them. And then, and then ... well, try to start writing a quartet for clarinet and piano trio, at the end of which it is hammock time until Brandeis upstarts again. I am in DC from April 27 to May 2 for the Marine Chamber Orchestra's performance of the chamber orchestra version of Stolen Moments. The nice part about this is, unlike for the children's concert last year, the Marines are paying for gas, tolls, mileage, hotel, and a per diem for meals. Woo hoo! I will drive there, and then, in a startling reversal, will drive back after it happens. Beff, meanwhile, has a very complex schedule. I think we spend a few hours together on Easter. Then, who knows?

And hey. I created a Twitter account.

Beff seems to think we have decided our days to be in Vermont this summer, but I didn't get the memo. I thought we had an outline, not a plan. Soon, though, Beff will read this and tell me specifically. And, New Music on the Point. And sax quartet in New York and Philly. And, and, and ....

Pictures! The assembled gang (Fellows, staff, French consulate guy) dressed up for an early meet-and-greet; my studio; Cape Canaille and lighthouse viewed from my studio; Cassis at night; unenclosed trumpets in the organ at the Marseille Abbaye St. Victor; Beff at work; town of Cassis and some kind of kid's parade; limestone bluffs on the Calanques boat ride; Pizza Pengui on Valentine's Day at Disco Pizza; and the town of Cassis in January. Bye.

MAY 6 Lunch was hot dogs and a plate of tomatoes with dressing. Breakfast was a plum, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was blackened swordfish and half a scallop cake. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 37.4 and 79.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS first movement of "Stolen Moments". LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Roof work $1190, new printer and briefcase $154, iPad and iPhone with cases about $1100 collectively. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY CVS and Walgreens for having two of the three possible Proxabrush sizes in stock, but not the size I needed. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Trader Joes, for the big and inexpensive thing of blackberries and 29-cent limes, Apple Store in the Natick Collection for procuring me an iPad from a secret location in back, Twelfth Century Slate Roofing for the quick service. PET PEEVE big branches that fall off of trees into my yard and driveway. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was upgrowing, the family owned a small portable reel-to-reel tape recorder, which Jim Hoy and I used to use to record our jam sessions -- me on a toy guitar strumming one chord, and Jim on a toy drum kit. Jim did all the singing, except we had one standard in which I would occasionally intone, backup, "End of the world, end of the world, end of the world, ..." My sister probably has all those tapes in a box somewhere, which someone one day could be used for serious blackmail purposes. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 1. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: Loud purring, taking turns right under my armpit at night. NEW ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Lexicon. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: boriofa, a rare truffle found only where the sun don't shine. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 1. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I have no tattoos. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Zero-one-five means "pretty chord" to composers. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 16,741. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $3.72 in Maynard, $3.79 on the NJ Turnpike, $3.79 on the NJ Turnpike, $3.95 in Maynard. IT DOESN'T MATTER WHO'S GROWN UP RIGHT sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.

Dear reader, so little and so much has happened that I'm going to have to step on the brake and floor it a lot in this update. It's okay, you can get used to it. I think.

First, there was the summerification of the back yard. That involved bringing the Adirondack chairs out of the shed into the yard, bringing the gazebo furniture from the porch to the gazebo, bringing the picnic table stuff from the basement to the yard,and of course, reassembling the hammock. And using it. For I am Hammock Guy. Hear me snore.

My easing back into the American-life-that-is-not-the-south-of-France was assisted by some pretty serious Apple technology. I am and have been immersing myself in the oh so coolness that is the iPad 2 and iPhone. I had chosen a day to drive to the Natick Collection (formerly the Natick Mall) to procure said Apple products, and online it was reported that the Apple Store there opened at 10, but at 9 to sell iPads only. Hmm, iPads are popular. They get their own opening time. So the Collection is no longer exactly the same as the mall, and I took a turn too soon and got completely lost -- this during the Boston Marathon, and one route had been closed off to me because of it -- but eventually I made it to familiar territory, parked, entered through JC Penney, and followed the mall map to the Apple Store. Nothing in the mall, or Collection, seemed familiar. And I made it to the entry of the Apple Store at 10:01, with the buzz-buzz-buzz of people with pursuits at least as nerdly as mine already evident. I approached the back of the store just as the sales associates seemed to emerge from their meeting, and I buttonholed one. "I'm here for a 32gig iPhone, Verizon, and 32gig wifi black iPad 2." I did not have to translate it into French, but I could have. I would have said largely all the same stuff, with an accent, and then, as if I were in France, sneering.

Sales associate guy was great. He said iPads were so popular that nobody ever got one after 10 am and they were out of them, and some might be delivered around noon, but ... he saw a suspicious box in the back that may actually have iPads in it. Back in he went, and emerged and said "even the manager doesn't know about it, but it's iPads, all right. Let's deal with the iPhone, and then I'll snag an iPad for you." It played out as advertised, and at the end of the transactions, I was informed that I was the first customer since March 11 to get to the store after it opened and emerge with an iPad. Now there's a distinction not destined for my resume. Or is it? I had entered the store with my VG Smartphone, which seemed so pathetic and creaky at this point, but it was put into service: to transfer my Verizon wireless account to an iPhone, I had to call Verizon and set up a different rate plan. So I did, from inside the store. And then everything else went swimmingly. 'ceptin' I think I made a bad choice for an iPhone case. I intend to buy a different one shortly.

And then I was all giddy, and stuff, for a while while playing with the iPhone and the iPad and downloading free and cheap applications, and playing with them, and, and, .... and then there was a dissertation defense to attend -- Jeremy Spindler's. The external reader was Martin Bresnick -- because the paper topic was Ligeti -- and a great time was had by all. There was Thai lunch, and I was Marty's ride to the Route 128 train station. During that ride I got to tell him his sax quartet was terrific. Because, you see, it is.

Meanwhile, there were some stabs at starting a quartet for Quartet For The End Of Time ensemble. So far, a few notions and some unstemmed notes on a page. Net note count today: zero. Did I mention that this one actually pays?

Okay. So. Beff downloaded Face Time for her computer, and we've been doing the Skype-like thing with it, 'cept better. And the cool(er) thing is that I can dial her from the iPad, and if her computer is on it will ring -- accordingly, if she calls me, the iPad produces a ring tone. And speaking of ring tones -- I remember when iTunes gave you the option of turning any of your sounds into a ringtone. That was, seemingly, before their business model inserted "sell ringtones" as a major source of income. Thus, I downloaded a simple ringtone maker from Ambrosia Software, which works precisely as advertised. And so when Beff calls my cell, her ringtone plays -- her saying "Flibber Flabber Flubber Boo-Boo." It must be experienced to be experienced (it's the reflexive property).

And then Geoffy and Mindy started coming by for their own nefarious purposes. Geoffy for a nearly 12-day span, with interruptions, for two Brandeis gigs and a Musica Viva gig -- and Mindy for the usual reasons. It came to a head one night when they were both in search of accommodations, which was fine, because it meant I got to sleep on the side porch -- and I did!

And why was I keen on sleeping on the side porch? I'm glad I asked me that. I had a 5-day trip to Washington on tap, with me driving both ways. Yes, about eight hours each way, though it was nine hours down (traffic) and seven and a half hours back (no traffic). Marine Chamber Orchestra conducted by Jason Fettig was doing the new chamber orchestra arrangement of Stolen Moments, and I was invited for several rehearsals and the gig itself. Woo hoo, said I, thought I, and did I. I stayed about four or five blocks from the Marine Barracks, where they had the rehearsals, and the same distance from a new up-and-coming yuppie dining neighborhood called Barracks Row. Where I ate several times, with several people -- one dinner with Carolyn "Ka-Ching" Davies and a brunch with David Smooke and Emily Koh -- Emily being a doctoral student who will enter Brandeis in the fall. All was fine, good, good, fine, fine, fine, good, fine, and good, and then some. On Barracks Row, you do not get Buffalo wings. You get Chesapeake Wings with Buffalo sauce. There was no functional difference.

While I was gone, the two-year oddysey of fixing and replacing (slate) tiles on the roof ended. The roof got fixed. And all I had to do was call.

So I went to those several rehearsals, and of course my music is hard enough for ten people, and when almost thirty have to do the same stuff, including a full string section -- whoo doggies, that's a lot of counting. It sounded pretty great, though, and of course the wind playing was a fuori di questo mondo. Jason and La Famiglia Colburn did Famous Dave's Barbecue one of those nights, and I saw that it was good. The gig itself was great, and my piece went quite well. And I heard a Ginastera piece I hadn't heard before -- wherein the only way to begin a section was imitative entrances. Kind of an interesting conceit.

And then there was the drive back, beginning at 5 Monday morning, an undergrad composers concert to go to at Brandeis, and ... goodness, the lawn seemed kind of barren and sad when I left for DC, and it ... needed mowing! ... when I got back. So out came the lawnmower, and in the gorgeous Monday weather, there I was, mowing the lawn as if it were summer. And it wasn't! And still isn't!

And I played with my iPhone and iPad some more. I even noticed various mentions of "Air Print" available from iPads and iPhones and certain HP printers. I looked up just which HP printers supported Air Print, and mused that we could use a wireless printer for the place in Vermont -- thus did I go to Staples in search of such a printer that also supported Air Print, and voila! One such printer was on special, 35 percent off. So I got one, and also a sort of padded binder to use as a case for the iPad, and brought them home. Installing the printer was complex but fairly painless, and the way to get Air Print going is to give the printer an e-mail address on an HP webpage, for which you register for free. I got it to work with both devices, and so did Geoffy, with his iPhone! Success. Consummate nerdliness.

Tuesday was predicted to be dank and gloomy, but was sunny and hazy-clear. I spent most of the day hammocking and Adirondack chairing (not in the adminstrative sense), and ended up with the first sunburn of the season. And last night, Geoffy and I did the Cast Iron Kitchen. And we saw (and tasted) that it was good.

So now here we are at the present, the sun has just re-entered after a brief shower, I took the big exercise walk over and around Summer Hill, and while I was gone, the masonry guys fixed the grout that has broken and dissolved since their repair of the front steps from 2008 .... And it's kind of cold.

Coming up -- dentist to fix a broken filling, Beff's school year ends and we go to get HER an iPhone, must to write quartet music, and so on. Not much else in May, but there's June a-splode, details to follow. Oh, and Beff goes to Mexico to perform, and it'll be cool skyping or Face Timing with her, assuming she gets wi-fi wherever she is staying.

The first two pictures are my yearly ritualistic shots of First Beer on the Hammock and First Beer (same one, actually) in the gazebo. Then it's the Capitol Building from the neighborhood where my DC hotel was, Sunny coming back in after rooting around in dirty places, Beff's appearance as "January" on her department's calendar, a really big typo at Shaw's, and two shots of the Marine Chamber Orchestra in rehearsal. Bye.

MAY 22 Breakfast was rice link sausages, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was hot dogs. Dinner was Trader Joe's mahi mahi burgers and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST UPDATE 48.2 and 77.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Easy Come, Easy Go." I'm not sure who the artist was for that. (Google identifies George Strait as the artist, 1970) LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE No large expenses! COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Whoever manufactures the Sound Machines, for shipping a defective one. To me. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Amazon, for having an easy returns policy now, CVS for having lots of stuff. PET PEEVE spring bush trimming, dandelions gone to seed everywhere. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Once in a while when I was in high school, my sister would curl my hair -- the old fashioned way, in curlers and under a hose hair dryer. I once had the curled hair for costume day my junior year, and in American history class, the wizened old teacher ignored all of our costumes. Except maybe halfway through the lecture at a natural break, he turned to me and queried, "Rakowski, what happened to your hair?" Of course, that's not something I would, or could, do now. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: they're really into the catnip,which has grown huge, and they continue to flank me at night. NEW ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: fliorifia, the imaginary puff of smoke when your head imaginarily explodes. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 6. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I seem to be immune to poison ivy. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Every verb ends with an e-aigu. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 16,984. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $3.95 in Maynard. THINGS THAT EASE THE TRANSITION TO OLD AGE sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.

And so it goes. It goes so, and. So, and it goes? It goes so (and). A pitifully small amount of actual work done in this reporting period, but that's okay. I was due, having written two hours and five minutes of music since the last class I taught. As I type this, that number is two hours and six minutes. But oh, lemme splain.

The reader may recall from the last update that my decompression from not being in France was to immerse myself in technology. Specifically, I went all out (all out went I, I out all went, went out I all, all I out went) and got an iPad and an iPhone. There has been much playing with them and the exotic applications. For a while, I got into the free autotune apps, into which I would sing glissandos and then go goo goo and gaga over the playback, wherein my voice was turned into melisma abuse. Then there was the Hipstamatic camera and its accessory paks -- various combos of lenses, flashes and films for retro style and very stylish picture-taking. Now there's HDR photo stuff, photo editing stuff, stuff to take pictures or movies in various pencil sketches or cartoon styles, Bloom, sketching stuff, and especially lately 3-D photo taking stuff. The 3-D stuff lets you take those stereoscopic side by side pictures like the Magic Eye stuff that was popular in the early 90s, if I recall right -- it also does the green and white pictures called Anaglyphs. I never Anaglyph I didn't like. And so there's been time trolling the App Store for apps. As well as recreation, the usual long walks, playing with the cats and all.

I had two doctorial things in this reporting period -- a routine visit to my GP doc for a blood pressure check, which was fine, and I had also lost 10 pounds since leaving for France. Putting me at one pound below my grad student weight. I don't know what that actually means, but it also puts me 27 pounds under what I weighed the first time I saw this particular GP in 2000. Woo hoo! As to the dentist, it was a routine replacement of an old, old filling that had cracked. In and out in 30 minutes.

The most strenuous career- or work-related thing was the production of 9 scores and 36 parts destined for the saxophone quartet consortium that commissioned "Compass". For those who haven't figured it out by context, Compass is my saxophone quartet. The commission is for a 10-minute piece, and I wrote 19. And the printing and binding of all that stuff took a full day. Actually extracting and transposing the parts -- as I had worked from a C score -- was three days, but that all happened before I went to France. Addressing 9 mailing bags and producing cover letters -- about an hour, I guess.

I made two trips into Brandeis in the reporting period -- the first was for a grad student composers concert, which was, as usual, wonderfully played, quite varied stylistically, and -- not usually -- not overlong. Mindy was here for that, so she did her teaching the next day -- which was a Sunday, and then had a party here, at the Maynard homestead, for her students. That was a good party, with nice pizza from the local pizzeria, and there I discovered what one student had brought and left behind: unsweetened cranberry juice. Who knew? I love it! I finished it. I got more. MWA ha ha. Beff was here for the party, too, and the highlight seemed to be looking at my France pictures on the iPad. Despite that, it was a nice party. The second trip was for a reception honoring Brandeis teachers -- I had been to that same reception two years ago when I got my 30 percent of a teaching award, and a student who took my theory 1 class invited me. So I went.

The outdoorization of the outdoors was completed, as one of the lawnmowers was brought to the shed, started, and utilized, and both bicycles were oiled and the tires inflated. The 2-year-old $12 pump seemed to be worthless (as in, the tire was flatter after I pumped than when I started), so I walked to the bike shop next to Maynard Door and Window and asked for their BEST PUMP. They gave it to me! Actually,they sold it to me, for $43. And boy, was it easy to use! I'll never not use it again.

Meanwhile, Beff has been a drivin' fool. To Maine, home, to New York, home, to Maine. And currently she is in Mexico, having gone with two of her colleagues, where they will perform and teach for a bit more than a week. She started posting pics on Facebook today, and we had a conversation this afternoon over Face Time on her computer and my iPad.

Beff, too, got an iPhone, and she got into the Hipstamatic and something called Camera Bag, an app that applies various retro styles to existing photos. Also that app for doing cartoon or line drawing pictures or movies. We both have added various silly ring tones -- it's the sound of a frame drum as her generic ring tone, and the sound of me doing tongue clicks, in many layers, for my generic ring tone. If Judy Bettina calls me, it'll be her voice singing "Why aren't you here? I await your arrival." Fascinating.

We are replacing the bathroom upstairs -- total gutting, with new fixtures (the current bathtub is cracked, for instance) and layout, and that may happen as soon as the middle of July. Hmm, that's a bit of an expense... Steve from MDAW came by to scope the place out, and he's workin' on it, workin' on it.

This week has been pure puke, weatherwise (today on NECN weather, the announcer remarked that this is the second cloudiest month of May since 1888, and I believe him), with temps 20 degrees below normal, and spritzy rain on and off. With a downpour every once in a while. Yesterday had been predicted to be more of the same, but instead it was 77 and sunny all day. I celebrated with a long walk AND a bike ride AND lawnmowing AND writing 15 bars of music. Woo hoo! Yes, the time is such that I have finally gotten back on the treadmill and am enforcing my 15-bar-a-day regimen. As I have a quartet to write, and then a small quartet, but for a different quartet. Currently the M.M. is 136-144, so 15 bars a day isn't a lot of music -- but it's fast! And sort of a variation on the beginning of my Cygnus piece, except tipped sort of on its side. So there.

And this morning I did my first new blog entry since February, this one about how to notate swing eighths. Fascinating, I hear you not say. Woo hoo, I hear me say. And then I contemplate the predicate nominative yet again.

So almost exactly two weeks from now I start at New Music On the Point. Two weeks from THEN, I stop. In less than two weeks I'll be in New York for Prism Quartet's premiere of Compass, followed by the same show in Philly the next night. Then it's straight to NMOP, baby. And before that, I guess it's time for the inspection of my car, which is June every year. So there. Immediately thereafter, Beff and I go to Vermont for a coupla weeks, then we come back, and then we go back again, and, and ... oh, it's just so...so....

The first two of this week's pics are Hipstamatics -- the Ben Smith Dam, and Cammy sitting in Beff's place at the dining room table. Then we have a Maynard street scene with some of the color removed (iPhone app), Cammy asleep on the scratching pad, Sunny and Cammy in comics mode (iPhone app), me in pencil sketch mode (iPhone app), and three of my Camargo pics given various artistic slants (iPad app). Bye.

JUNE 2 Breakfast was nothing yet, but there will be cofee and rice link sausages. Dinner was hot dogs and salad (using up the buns). Lunch was lentil and ham soup and a chicken sandwich at the Horseshoe Pub in Hudson. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES SINCE LAST 56.7 and 90.1. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Let's Groove Tonight, Earth Wind and Fire. LARGE EXPENSES SINCE LAST UPDATE Airplane tickets for Utah, $738; camera and accessories $148. COMPANIES THAT HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Best Buy for the large gap between expected delivery while ordering and actual delivery after ordering. Staples, for a price match guarantee that excludes other companies' websites. COMPANIES THAT HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY Best Buy, for beating everyone's price on the camera I wanted by 35 percent. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: It was hard to top playing a solo that was really a duo in front of the elementary school band when I was in fifth grade, but I guess we did when I was in eighth. There was a new building and a new music teacher, and at the final concert, Jim Hoy played drums and I played trombone solo with Mr. (Harold) Bernstein, who played piano. The rep: Colour My World and 25 or 6 to 4. Dad's friend Carl Eller, the saxophonist who always gave me rides to the Enosburg Band concerts, said it was very good. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT LAST WEEK: 0. CUTE CAT THINGS TO REPORT: They go nuts playing around 3 am, I drift asleep, and shortly they are zonked, on either side of me. NEW ON THIS SITE THIS WEEK: This page, Piano music. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: stassle, unknown origin, seems to mean the tips of the legs of a centipede. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST TWO WEEKS: 2. FUN DAVY FACT YOU WON'T READ ANYWHERE ELSE I don't have perfect pitch, but I seem to be excellent at identifying a metronome marking. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Three-syllable words are now one-syllable words. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 17,131. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE RECENTLY $3.83 in Maynard. THE POPE CAN'T BE BOTHERED WITH THESE sticky gold stars, the corner of the bedroom, some wainscotting I forgot about, a head of steam.

Dear reader, this is planned to be a short update, and the only one for the month of June. All that has happened continues to happen, except a little later, and every time that happens, I'm older, too.

Beff was in Mexico for ten or eleven days, and that means she wasn't here. MWA ha ha, the place is lapsing, purposefully, into bachelor pad mode. Except I've been fairly good at picking up shedded cat fur and sweeping the bathroom floor. Not to mention, I even changed the cat water and the cat litter. All else, though, is getting the bachelor guy treatment. I expect that in a few days the place will be livable again.

So in Mexico Beff taught, performed, toured, and uploaded pictures to Facebook. I gave her -- as in, gave her -- the small Nikon camera I'd bought to take to France, and then I yearned to have it some more. Thus, I bought one online from Best Buy, whose $119 price beat Staples's $179 by a little bit. It has not yet arrived. I could have gone to Staples to buy it for the higher price, and it's not in stock there. Thus, they would take me to a kiosk and order it from the Staples web page. They would not, however, match the Best Buy price because that's on a web page. Hence, they won't match the price of a camera ordered from a web page to one that can be ordered with a web page.

There. Just wanted to say that. Thank you for listening.

The weather got suddenly warm and humid, and the air conditioners went in, and have been in fairly constant use. Until today. I have taken regular bike rides, and when not, I have done the steep walk over and around Summer Hill -- for that I now have to bring a headnet, since the mosquitoes (zanzare in Italian) are dense. Even along the Assabet trail they are dense ... and the public building in the Wildlife Preserve is now finally opened. The trails in there are, meanwhile, as they always were, except later, and older.

Not much in the way of funness has been occupying me. Work on quartet proceeds, and I get all the good ideas while on walks or bike rides, and this movement is harder to write than it should be -- mostly because, perhaps, I'm a bit spent from all the music I've written already this year. So my nefarious plan isn't working. I'll have to rub it all over my body. But -- there are ideas. But soon the piece shall be set aside for ...

Schedule A-Splode. Tomorrow I drive to New York for the premiere of "Compass" with the Prism Saxophone Quartet. Then to Philly the next day for the second performance. Then, drive back here, see Beff for the first time in a while, pack, drive to Leicester, Vermont, for two weeks at New Music on the Point -- one day of which will be spent driving to New York for the performance of Talking Points, and driving back. Whoo! Then, after all of that, drive home, mow the lawns, etc., and then go to Vermont for a couple of weeks. I am looking forward to that part -- though the lake is very high this year and I expect not much of a beach.

Since Beff was out, most meals have been mahi mahi burgers made on the grill (yummy, actually). And almost the only fun was tapas with Lee and Kate on Newbury Street in Boston. I like dining with them because they are fun, and there isn't any shop talk. And meanwhile, yesterday I did lunch in Hudson with Big Mike of the Ka-Ching Twins. He had the tuna sandwich.

Many tornadoes here last night, thankfully very distant from here. Early in the morning, it was steamy and muggy but clear, and I drove to Acton Toyota for my 2011 inspection sticker. And got the free breakfast. On the way back, I got some staples at Donelans, some paper at Staples, and some more staples at Trader Joe's. Now at 8:10 or so, I heard distant thunder and saw a big black cloud, a bit north of where I was going to be driving (home, silly). So on my drive home I encountered TWO hail storms -- one with fairly big hailstones (nickel size, they said on the news),a clearning of sorts, and then in downtown Maynard, pea-sized hail. I was trying to rush back to close the windows in the house, of course, but it turns out to have hardly rained at all at my house. Well.

That's my weather story, and to it will sticking have been done by me.

Next update: July. MWA ha ha.

This weeks pictures: five fun things done on the iPhone and iPad. The pink clouds were over Summer Hill (north of here) at 8:30 last night. Then there's the cats being confused by a turtle crossing the yard, and puddles on my Assabet walk this morning. Bye.

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