aching fingers

I did my third flute duet performance Wed. night--performing with my flute teacher at a local church dinner.  I was nervous, especially initially when I made some mistakes, but kept going.  She also sprung some additional duets on me that we practiced a few times before we performed.  Part of me wanted to say I couldn't do it, but I took the chance and did fine with the new pieces.  In fact I made fewer mistakes than with the other pieces, which had been practicing for weeks.  I know they say perfornance gets easier the more you do it, so I'm taking the opportunities my teacher is offering me--even though part of me would like to say no.

Recently my fingers have begun to ache more, including while playing the flute.  It's the latest potential setback--the first was my neck, which has been hurting since about March.  And my left jaw, which sometimes locks and won't open.  Yesterday I finally took some Aleve, because the pain was interfering with my playing.  But I really don't want to have to take painkillers every day.  So I'm going to start exploring options for coping with arthritis pain.  I made an appointment for an introductory Alexander Technique session next week, and am seeing a rheumatologist the week after.  I've been assuming that I have osteo- not rheumatoid arthritis, but I've decided it's worth seeing a specialist given how quickly I'm feeling pain in so many places fingers, wrist, knee, feet, neck, jaw).  Not to mention the 5ish pound weight loss.  And the nails that keep splitting no matter what I do or try.  I'm guessing she'll have me do a bunch of blood work, which means a second appointment since doing the blood work likely will require fasting.   Maybe I'll call ahead and see if I should fast.  (At my appointment a few months ago with my GP, who only works in the afternoon, they asked me if I had fasted.  Are they kidding?  I'm not sure I could make it until 9am, let alone 2pm without eating.)

Shelter Dog

They found her running around in a local park--she was dirty but otherwise in good condition, according to the card they kept on file.  They estimated her age at about 3 months.  Their policy is to hold stray dogs for a week before they will let them be adopted.  My son had already picked a name for the dog he had begged us to get--Raven.  So we figured we needed to find a black dog.  We went back an forth about whether to get a puppy or an older dog.  An older dog might have all sorts of habits and may have been in a difficult situation.  Like the 1-year old black lab we saw at one shelter, where the card said the family had brought it to the shelter because it had "killed the family rabbit".  More than we could handle, we thought; especially since we had a cat.

So here was a little black puppy stray--looked like a black lab, but they said she was probably some sort of mix.  My son played with her, and wanted us to get her.  I told him we would have to wait a week to see if the owners came to claim her.  They told us she wasn't wearing a collar when we found her; in their experience dogs without collars are less likely to be claimed by owners.  So we'll never know how she ended up at that park.  But we decided her middle name would be "Barcroft" after the park where she was found.  We'll never know if she was mistreated, neglected or abused.  Or whether she was just too much for someone to handle.  We can believe the latter--she was energetic, anxious, territorial, willful and intelligent, and we struggled to train her.  More like she trained us.

Walking with her

I took the walk that I had been wanting to take, but avoiding until I thought I could handle it.  One of her favorite walks with me, and one we often did in the afternoon--especially when it wasn't too hot or too cold.  A day like today.  So I set out to follow that path, and to try to feel her spirit walking with me.  I could see her as I walked down the long street, and remember my instructions as I tried to get her to "go" near the street instead of on people's lawns.  I saw the spots she liked the best, and could hear myself talking to her.  I didn't always enjoy the walk, because one part is up an increadibly long, steep street.  She would walk up that street very slowly.  I used to think it was because she thought I couldn't go any faster.  Now I think maybe she couldn't go any faster.  That it was getting harder and harder for her to move, and more taxing for her heart, but she didn't want to let us know.  She wanted to keep going; couldn't slow herself down even though it might have prolonged her life.  It's as if she wanted to live a certain way--with lots of energy and, yes, aggression against anything she thought might endanger her family.  So she burned herself out trying.

I sometimes imagine her spirit running free--no leashes, no collars, no fences, no crates.  I'd like to believe that spirits and souls live on.  I'm not sure I believe it, but I'd like to.

Alexander Technique

Well, we decided that I've finished Forty Little Pieces, but I did have some problems with the difficult passage during my lesson.  In fact, I had trouble with everything at my lesson--the exercises as well as the duets I've been learning, which I'll be playing Wednesday.  I'm sure some of it was nerves--a lesson is a performance, after all--but also my fingers have been feeling still.  When I googled to find out what people do when they have pain while playing, I came across a number of references to the Alexander Technique.  I had never heard of it--I thought it was some sort of flute-learning technique, like the Suzuki method.  Looking at wikipedia, I learned that it was developed by a Shakespearean actor whose voice kept wearing out.  Apparently through this technique--which seems to focus on breathing and posture--he was able to continue performing.  And it looks like it's quite popular with musicians.  When I mentioned it to my flute teacher, she said the annual flute conference offers a workshop on the Alexander Technique.  The next MidAtlantic flute conference will be in Feb. 2013.

Always attracted to new ideas, I looked at who teaches the technique in the DC area, and have contacted one to get more info.  Everything I read suggests that teachers prefer to teach one-on-one.  And they recommend that students take 30-40 lessons.  So it's going to be expensive.  I'd like to try a session or two to see if it might help.  

Made it to 80...

Yesterday I continued the same approach to practicing the difficult passage--I played the piece through 3 times, then played the passage separately several times.  After a few times I checked the metronome, and the setting was a bit slow.  So I raised it a notch and was able to play at that speed.  I thought I had set it at 72 and thus raised it to 76, but when I looked it was at 80.  So I was able to play the passage multiple times at 80.  And it didn't take as many tries to get to 80 as it had taken to get to 76 a few days earlier.  Today I played the piece 3 times, then played it with the piano accompaniment.  I noticed that I'm sometimes playing faster than 80, so I focused on being more even.  I stumbled a bit on the first time I played the passage; the second time was better.  I played the piece 3 times with the accompaniment; the third time my fingers started to fall apart.  And I can feel slight arthritic pain in my left middle finger; those right hand fingers felt stiffer and more tired today overall.  So I stopped playing with the accompaniment and went back to practicing just that passage several times.  Then I played with the accompaniment one last time--I made it through fairly well, although I could feel my fingers struggling to move.  Especially around the D (D-E-Fsharp-D).  I really have no idea how it will go at tomorrow's lesson.  I'll play the passage a few times in advance and hope that my fingers will relearn/remember the pattern.  But they also have to be able to move.  Maybe the colder weather is affecting the arthritis.  Or maybe it's starting to get worse.  I'll start googling to see if people have tips for people who have arthritis and play instruments.

When I would think about the things I wanted to do once I stopped working full time, I always imagined myself the way I was a few years ago--no muscle tears that don't fully heal, no stenosis,  no near-osteoperosis, no arthritis, few gray hairs.   It just didn't occur to me that I would actually get older--I thought it would just be a chronological age change.  Now I feel like I'm exercising in an almost desperate attempt to fight back time, as opposed to exercising to stay healthy and limber. And I'm less sure of myself--am I stretching or overstretching?  am I helping my neck and spine or making it worse? am I strengthening bones or pulling muscles?

Progress?

I'm still working on that difficult flute passage--I spent 15 minutes today just playing the offending phrase over and over again.  I told myself I was just going to focus on playing at whatever speed I was able to do it correctly.  But yesterday I couldn't resist checking the metronome to see how close I was getting to half note=80.  I went from "just curious" to seeing if I could get closer to 80.  at 72, the pace was a bit slower than I was playing, but as soon as I went to 76, my fingers couldn't keep up.  I've told myself I wouldn't try to play with the piano accompaniment (companion CD) until Thursday (the day before my next lesson).

I don't seem to progress from day to day.  Each day I start practicing the piece, it's like I'm starting from scratch with that passage.  I have to slow down to play it correctly.  So I play the piece 3 times at a tempo that's slower than I need to play the rest of the piece, but that enables me to get through the difficult passage.  Then I practice the difficult passage over and over again and maybe get to the speed I reached the day before (using the same approach).  And some days my fingers feel stiffer than others, which makes the progress more uneven.  Today was one of those days.  So I sort of got back to 76 by the end of the practice.  I got to the point where I was playing the passage worse, so I stopped.  I seem to reach a point of diminishing returns with my music practice.  What's the line between being a quitter and overdoing it with practice?  Do skilled musicians have this same problem, or are they able to train themselves to keep going until they reach their goal?  Or is it talent, or some other mysterious element that goes beyond physical (and mental) effort?

Difficult Passages

I mean this literally, although it also applies figuratively.  Certain flute passages are especially difficult for me to play fast; I've finally determined that one or two fingers on my right hand are the culprit.  One passage in particular has been very difficult for me to play at the correct speed (half note=80)--I've played the (eighth) notes over and over and over and over again.  I can play them correctly at a slower speed, but when I try to speed up to the correct tempo my fingers lose it.  The right middle finger in particular has great difficulty moving--I can actually feel the fingers trying, but not able to keep up.  And it's different from another difficulty I have, which is getting a mental block against passages that are difficult for me to learn.  Once I learn such a passage, my brain says "uh oh, here it comes, that passage you mess up on". I try to suppress these thoughts, but I'm prone to having thoughts get in my way of performance.

Today went slightly better with the difficult passage.  I stopped trying to play up to speed, and took it at a speed where I could play it correctly.  I played the entire piece 3 times through (the passage appears twice in the piece), then played the passage about 20 times.  I was able, toward the end, to pick up the speed slightly.  But I didn't get to 80; maybe 72.  So my plan for this week's practice is to take the same approach--start at a tempo where I can play the piece, then practice the passage in groupings of 5, increasing the tempo slightly as long as I'm still able to play the notes.  I don't know whether I'll be able to play up to tempo by my next lesson on Friday.

I was basing this approach on some advice I found on the internet--start at a tempo where you can play the notes correctly (they suggest q=60; I could already play a bit faster than that) and don't increase the speed until you can play the passage correctly 5 times at the slower speed.  But I'm not really trying to increase the speed--that's what seems to trip me up.  I do think it's at least as much physical as psychological in this case.

After this week, my teacher and I have agreed to move on from that piece, even if I'm not able to play at tempo.  This is my third week on this piece--Bourree by Handel, #38 in Moyse's Forty Little Pieces.
And it's the last piece--I've already done #39 and 40 (one week each for those).

So I will have finished Forty Little Pieces in about 43 weeks--I started taking flute lessons on Jan. 31, 2012.  I also finished Emil Eck's first methods book a few weeks ago, and am on my 2nd week of book 2.  And I'm just starting Faure's Sicilienne from 24 Short Concert Pieces, plus working on about 15 pieces in the Tulou for Two duet book.  I am learning quickly, but can also see my limitations.  When you start from nothing, the gains are exponential.  From here on things will get a lot more difficult, I suspect, with the gains more subtle, if there are any.

I Love Shutterfly

This past summer someone at work asked if I wanted to see photos from her trip to India.  When I walked in her office, she handed me a book with a photo of the Taj Mahal on front that looked like something you'd purchase.  I was confused momentarily--why would she show me a bunch of store-bought photos?  But as I started looking I realized they were photos she had taken, assembled in a beautiful, professional-looking book.  I had no idea you could do that--she explained that she used a web-based site called Shutterfly.  We had been to Hawaii a few months previously, and I thought using Shutterfly would be a great way to capture the photos in a real, not just virtual, album.  I had loaded the photos onto iphoto, but hadn't done anything with them.

Took some time to get the hang of Shutterfly, but I managed to create two beautiful books of our Hawaii photos.  Then I had a real brainstorm.  It's become a Christmas tradition for me to buy my son two wall calendars each year--one of black labs and one of ginger cats, in honor of our pets.  Even though I'm the one who changes the calendar each month, he says he still wants them each year--family traditions are important to him.  I was so excited to think that I could make my own wall calendars for 2013 using Shutterfly--one with photos of Raven and one with photos of Pooh.

I went through every single photo we have (in a huge box) and found every photo of Raven and of Pooh, and also of our late cat Casey.  I scanned them onto a disk (my husband bought me a scanner, which I hadn't  used much), loaded them onto the computer, and transferred them to Shutterfly.  I spent weeks over the summer doing this--I wanted to have a lot of time to think about the calendar layout.  By the end of the summer I had created the two calendars, but figured I wouldn't order them until sometime in the fall, when there was a sale on calendars.

It never crossed my mind when I was working on the calendars that Raven wouldn't live to see 2013.  I never imagined life without her, let alone next year.  Within a week of her death, I decided to create a memory book of Raven for my husband's birthday, which is in a few weeks.  Because I had already looked through all the photos and loaded them onto Shutterfly, it wasn't difficult to create a book.  I'm so grateful I had those photos on Shutterfly--it would have been so difficult to go through all our photos now.  So thank you for being there, Shutterfly.

I ordered the book, and also went ahead and ordered both calendars.  They came out beautifully.  I just am not sure what to do with the Raven 2013 calendar.  I don't think I'll wrap it--I'll let my son know I have it, and if he wants to put it up in his room he will.  If not, I'll keep it in a safe place.

surviving the storm without her

The wind howled most of the night last night--we kept expecting the power to go out, but it never did.  We were lucky.  The storm I kept comparing it to was Isabel, which came through in Sept. 2002 and downed nearly 100 trees in my county.  We couldn't walk more than a block without seeing a downed tree--several of which had fallen on houses.  My theory is that all the weak trees cane down during Isabel, because we haven't had many fall since then, even during the past summer's derecho.

We lost power at about 5:10pm  (a Thursday), and I was so nervous about a tree falling on our (new) house that Raven and I slept in the basement that night.  I guess dogs know when there's danger, and they instinctively seek the lowest level.  But often she wanted to leave the house when there was a storm, especially when there was lightning or related electrical outages.  One evening she and I were walking in the snow during the Snowmageddon season (2010), and saw a small electrical explosion followed by a power outage in a nearby neighborhood.  As we got closer to home, it was clear she did not want to go back inside.  Somehow (I think) she associated the electrical burst with the indoors, and felt safer outside.  I kept telling her she was safer inside, but she didn't listen.  So I finally dropped the leash and walked toward the house by myself.  Even though she was a willful dog, she didn't like being alone.  So when she saw I might leave her outside by myself, she came toward me and went back in the house.  Where we were safe.

she would have been scared

Everyone's talking about the coming storm--Frankenstorm.  Torrential rain, power losses, howling winds.  It's like she knew it was coming, and knew she wouldn't make it through.  She developed a fear of lightning and thunder as she got older, and then eventually even the sound of rain spooked her.  It would be the middle of the night, and we would hear a loud scratch on the bedroom door.  Not the small, continuous scratches the cat makes, but one long claw scrape.  I would let her in, and she would jump on the bed and stay with me until the danger passed.  It was the only time she ever slept in our bed--when she was afraid.  When she became ill and couldn't get up, I worried about how she would let us know she was scared, if she couldn't climb the stairs.  Sometimes she couldn't be consoled even when she came upstairs, so my husband would go down and stay with her on the first floor, where she normally slept.

One time when we lost power, I had been using my George Foreman grill, and the grill beeped just before the power went out.  Raven became scared of power outages--maybe because they were generally accompanied by wind and rain--and as a result became afraid of electronic beeps.  She associated the beep with bad things--wind and rain and noise and darkness.  So every time I used a cooking device that beeped, I had to reassure her that everything was OK.  I wish I could reassure her now.

osteopenia

Back to aging--I got the results of my dexascan; my bone density has declined from what it was 2 years ago.  The results went to my ob/gyn and my GP--I got a call from the GP's office first, saying there was no need for me to take medication but that I should continue to take vitamin D supplements.  So I was surprised when I spoke with someone at my ob/gyn's office, who said I should take Boniva once a month.  The GP was supposed to call me this afternoon so I could discuss this conflicting advice with her, but she didn't call. I don't want to take Boniva, so won't.  But I guess I should have a dexascan annually now instead of every 2 years.

With everything I do--walking, yoga, pilates, weight lifting, stationary bike--it's disappointing that I'm still losing bone density.  Guess I won't know if it would be worse if I didn't do all this stuff.

sad walk

I didn't walk her in the mornings, my husband did.   But I wanted to take a walk through some of the streets we used to travel.  We learned a lot about our neighborhood on those walks, since we moved here 10 years ago.  That house was torn down; this one did a big renovation that took months; they have a dog; that guy yelled at us for letting Raven sniff his flowers.  It was a sad and lonely walk without her.  And most people out walking had dogs.  Luckily, I didn't run into any of the "dog people" we would run into on our walks.  We're dreading seeing them and having them ask where Raven is.  I practice saying "she's in doggie heaven" but I don't think I'll be able to say it without crying.

When I got home I scrubbed and hosed down her crate and ramp.  We're saving these items for the next dog.  I've already washed her blanket and beautiful green coat, and put away her collars as mementos.  No one else will use those.  And some items I had to throw away--old Nyla bones, chewed-up towels, scruffy tennis balls, peed-on rugs too big to clean.  And then there's her chair.  We talked about getting rid of it once she was gone--she went on it so many times, I stopped trying to clean it.  But it sits there--I'll wait for my husband to say something, since he's the one who said we should throw it out once she was gone.  I don't think he's ready to do that yet.  All of the things I've done have been when he was out of the house.

So I guess I'll have to figure out a different walking routine.  I'm thinking between 5 and 6 pm--after I finish my flute practice but before I have to start dinner.  That's when I walked her when I was working full time.  Not a long walk,  just one to tide her over til the longer after-dinner walk.  I just don't want to run into anyone.  Not yet.

She's home

We brought her ashes back home today; I held the box on my lap and cried as we drove away from the vet's office.  But she's home now, with her family.  This past week I kept staring at the empty place where her crate had been, and wanted to make it less empty.  I took the furniture off the area rug and moved the rug so some of the empty space would be filled in.  But it still looked cold and empty.  So I searched different web sites and found a nice accent table from Pottery Barn to fill a corner of the area.  It looks nice--I added an artificial flower arrangement; my son thought it was a memorial to Raven.  I guess it is.  The place that cremated her took a print of her paw, so I placed that on the table in front of the flowers.  But her urn is on the mantle, along with the urn of my first cat, Casey, who died 4 years before we got Raven.  Raven's urn is black with white steaks, just like she was when she got older.  She's home.

She's gone

I almost sent her back to the shelter--she seemed to be too much to handle.  She bit all the time--very sharp bites--and chewed everything.  The shelter suggested feeding her ice cubes or carrots that had been in the freezer to give her things to chew on.  Worked until the ice cubes and carrots ran out.   She ate two TV remotes, my leather cellphone cover (remeber those?), and chewed holes in blankets and in our leather chair.  The day after we brought her home from the shelter, they called to say they thought we should know she bit someone at the shelter.  I'm not sure what we would have done if we'd known that before we brought her home.  But we had her now, and I tried.   But I felt wimpy giving up on her, so we stuck with it--through chewed fingers and furniture, ruined toys and shredded blankets.  Through near-missses and not-so-near misses with other dogs and people she thought looked threatening.  As an adult she was very protective of us, her family, and kept pretty much everyone who came near the house at bay.  But she loved her walks--miles and miles.  Even as her arthritis grew worse, and through two hip replacements (the doggy equivalent thereof).  I always felt safe with her.  And as she got older, we had to comfort her as she grew fearful of lightening and anything that beeped.  But to the end, she tried to protect us.  Despite not having eaten or barely moved from her bed, she got herself up and ran to the door to bark at the mailman for what would turn out to be the last time.  (I managed to stay dry-eyed until that last line.)

And now she's gone.  She was ill for only 5 days--we and the doctor thought her lethargy and lack of appetite was due to her worsening arthritis.  Last Monday she had great difficulty getting up, and didn't have much of an appetite.  The doctor gave her a cortisone shot and prednisone pills, and we hoped they would make her feel better.  Took a few days, but she did seem to perk up--ate from her bowl, and went on her usual morning, afternoon and evening walks.  Not as far as she often would walk, but good walks nonetheless.  And still on the lookout for every scrap of food she could find.  But then Friday she wasn't moving again.  When I tried to hand-feed her, she took a few bites, then turned her head away from me when I tried to get her to eat more.  Like she was trying to tell me she was fading away.  We planned to take her to the vet again on Saturday if she didn't seem better by the morning.  But she never made it.  And instead on Saturday morning my husband made the sad, final trip to the vet.

Arthritis

Why does this have to surface just as I've turned 60?  Seems like everything age-related happens to me at the typical earliest age, making it more difficult to ignore the fact that I'm getting older.  Turns out my neck pain is being caused by arthritis (called cervical spondylosis).  When I mentioned to the doctor that my jaw was cracking/locking up also, he said I should be checked for TMJ.  He confirmed that I have scoliosis--something no doctor had mentioned until my GP noted it a few months ago.  Apparently the scoliosis is resulting in my neck having to carry more weight than normal.   I'm set to have an MRI next week; after that the doctor said he would be able to tell me what I should/shouldn't do to help the neck pain.

It's possible the headstands I was doing up until about a year ago contributed to the arthritis; who knows.  Arthritis does run in our family, and I do have it in my fingers, so I'll never know for sure.  But I'm guessing I will need to stay away from exercises/poses that put pressure on my neck.  I'm sure the rolling I did on the hard floor at the Y didn't help, either.  I really think yoga instructors need to be more careful when they're teaching in spaces with hard floors--the mats do nothing to protect the spine.

A pain in the neck

My neck (and related areas) has been hurting for 5 months now--something I'm not used to at all.  I'm used to aches and pains, to the extent I have them, going away in a few days.  So it's another adjustment to aging--coping with chronic pain.  I first saw a GP, who sent me to physical therapy.  They didn't do much--mostly measured how much I could turn my head, which was pretty exasperating.  They gave me a few neck exercises, which I've been doing.  But the pain hasn't gone away, so I'll see an orthopedist in a few weeks.  I don't know if whether the cause was whiplash from a car accident I was in (passenger) in late Feb.,  or an awkward yoga roll on the hard floor at the Y (I've stopped taking classes there), or from holding a flute (beginner).  But I'm just not used to things not getting better.  I've continued to do yoga, but don't do headstands--do arm balances instead.

I'm hoping the orthopedist will be able to tell me if it's a disc issue, or a bone spur, or something else.  Maybe he can give me additional exercises to strengthen my upper back, which is weak despite the yoga, pilates and weight lifting.  Or an injection to reduce swelling, if there is some (the right side of my neck feels slightly swollen to me.

Approaching 50 percent grey...

She said it matter-of-factly, so it took a while to process--that my hair is "approaching 50 percent grey". I thought there was only a bit around the front scalp line (and some near the part), but then my hair has been highlighted so long I guess I don't know how much I have.  But I realize the streaks in the back underside aren't hairs that are overly highlighted--they're grey/white.  I'm just not ready to go grey.  I know the new trend is supposedly going natural, but I don't need any help looking older.  So I'm still struggling with the hairdresser's advice that I move from highlights to semipermanent color.   And I've been doing research to figure which at-home products color grey the best (and are easy to use), but I can't figure it out.  And it seems so risky.  Why isn't there a hair product that just covers the grey?

mature hair

When I decided to grow my hair longer, I discovered that my hair texture had changed--more brittle, drier, and duller.  I've been experimenting with hair products--started using B&B coconut shampoo and conditioner as well as Kiel shampoo and conditioner with olive oil.  Trying to make my hair shinier, but in the process it felt flat and somewhat scraggly.  I bought a straightening iron and have tried it a few times--seeing steam rising from my hair at 450 degree setting is not a good thing, I decided.  I don't think my hair was meant for the straight look--the ends looked frazzeled, and small frayed strands stuck out.  And I was using a Remington, which has gotten high marks.  So my latest effort included trying my third new hairdresser--she seems good; knew how to layer my hair without making it too short.  And she recommended Kinerase's line of products for "mature hair".  So I bought the whole line, and will see how that works. I had been looking for a while for "mature" hair products, but without success.  Tried Dove as well as L'Oreal products supposedly designed for older hair, but neither did anything.  I'm still trying to figure out what direction to go with the hair color.  I have had foil highlights for decades--since I was in my 30's--but more gray is appearing.  The new hairdresser suggested semipermanent hair coloring.  I plan to try that in about 6 weeks.  Coloring all my hair makes me nervous--I like the different shades.  She said I would still have varying shades.  We'll see.  For now I want to see if the pricey Kinerase hair products make my hair shinier and repair the split ends while still providing bounce and volune.  We'll see.

Nothing to show for it

I've wanted to play the flute since I was 9.  But we had a clarinet, so I was told I had to play that.  They bought it for my sister, who had stopped playing it, and they weren't about to waste money on another instrument.  Would I have practiced more if I had a flute?  I'll never know.  But I quit the clarinet after a couple of years, and was barely able to practice the piano for 1/2 hour a day.  And then there were the recitals.  At some point during elementary school I developed stage fright, which really has never gone away.  Especially when it comes to music.  And when I can't play something exactly the way I want to; the way it should be played, I get frustrated and give up.  More practice doesn't always help; it just adds to the frustration.

I bought a flute 30 years ago, on a trip to Japan.  A Miramatsu that cost about $400.  I started taking lessons, but traveled so much the teacher gave away my time slot.  On and off since then, I would think about taking lessons, but didn't want to unless I thought I had the time to practice.  I still don't know if I have the perseverance I didn't have when I was younger.

I've been taking lessons for 6 months now, practicing about 1 1/2 hours per day.  Every day, except when I've been away from home.  What's my goal, at my age, for taking up the flute?  I say it's to be good enough to join a community orchestra.  I said I would give myself 2 years to see how I progress.  The problem with playing music is, unless you perform (well) in front of others, you have nothing to show for your efforts.  Not like paintings, or sculptures; even bad ones.  I've played once, in front of people, and got through it, but I was nervous.  Mostly air coming out of the flute, from what I could hear.  Mistakes, but I kept going.   But then I was playing duets, so in essence hiding behind my teacher.  I don't know how it will go the first time I have to play by myself in front of others.  I am practicing more than I've practiced any other instrument except voice, so I'm hoping the repetition, the muscle memory, will help calm the fear.  But the embouchere--it's still a mystery.   The difference between air and a tone is so slight.  And nerves affect it, even when I think I'm not doing anything any differently than when I get a nice warm tone.  Which is rare, but encouraging when it happens.

You stopped cutting your hair...

That's the first thing she said to me the last time I visited her.  Actually, I thought she said "you stopped coloring your hair" so I explained how I was trying to tone down the highlights in my hair and was waiting longer than I normally do to get highlights.  But I realized later she said "cut" not "color".  She was having trouble with her speech; plus I wanted to hear "color" not "cut".  So she didn't like how my hair looked.  She had always complimented me on my cut when it was short; said she thought my hairdresser did a really good job.  But I wanted to grow my hair longer, and was battling with my hairdresser, who kept cutting it too short, with bangs that were too thick.  So I was experimenting with a new hair stylist.  Why should it matter what she thinks, anyway.  It affected my whole visit; I kept fussing with my hair, reminding myself that I feel softer, look more feminine, with it longer.  Why did she have to say it?  I'm a grown woman, who wants one last chance to have long hair before it starts falling out, or getting too thin.  Instead it's what I remember most about that visit.

I did get my hair cut before the memorial service, but not as short as she would have wanted.  Just to make sure it looked neat, with ends that weren't frayed or frizzy.  I'm keeping it longer.  At least for now.

Smile

It doesn't appear very often, and when it does it can be just a slight hint--a brief upturn at the corner of the lips.  Rarely do the teeth emerge.   It doesn't come naturally with a greeting; the look can be neutral or even somber.  So when I do see one, even a brief, fleeting glimpse of one, I take note. But it's important that I do things to help coax it out.  A hug can sometimes do it; a congratulations; an excited, positive reaction to a good grade.  So I look for opportunites to help it emerge, with the hopes that, over time, it will come more easily, more naturally.