Thursday, January 25, 2007

Classical Music

I’ve decided I want to learn about classical music. For the last couple of years, I’ve been slowly immersing myself into it. When I find a CD I like, I’ll listen and listen and listen to it until the musical sounds become familiar to me. Second nature. But I can’t identify one composer from another. That’s my present project. Learn one composer at a time.

This all rather evolved from reading about George Sand that included her long-term love affair with Chopin. Because I have read her writings, I wanted to know his music. It paints an entire picture that way. The person and their talent cannot be separated. To know one must be to know the other.

Franz Liszt was a friend to both Sand and Chopin. His father tried to warn him “Beware of women, stick to your music.” Alas he became the playboy of the day, night actually, flitting from one society belle to another. Whether they were married or not made no difference. Top society dame, excuse me, Countess Marie d’Agoult was a passionate affair that lasted a long time. They managed to have three children and a divorce, in disgrace, from her husband. Of course in time the passion between them turned to disgust.

Liszt begged Richard Wagner not to break up the marriage of Liszt’s daughter Cosima. Ah, in the heat of passion, who listens? Wagner was a prima dona to beat all prima donas. He refused to work for money demanding that his friends support him and his expensive habits. He managed to marry Cosima. She remained with him until his death. She never again spoke to her father until the day he also died. Fascinating
I think these were the rock stars of yesteryear. For years I thought classical music and all it entailed was boring. Boy was I a dummy.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Waiting for a Phone Call

One of the worst moments of time wasted is waiting for someone to call. It doesn’t make any difference whether the expected call will be with good news or bad news. It’s the waiting that is awful. It’s nearly impossible to concentrate on something else, or be productive while I’m waiting. That thought just keeps hanging in the back of my mind ‘don’t use the telephone in case the call is trying to come through.’ Of course, that’s the time when I need to use the phone. And I don’t make calls often, only when necessary. I chat with my friends in person or by email, rarely by telephone.

I can wait easily three hours or more to use the bathroom, but when I’m waiting for a phone call……..I gotta go, now. Five minutes later, I gotta go, again. What about a shower? The best way to have the telephone ring is to get into the shower, even better if I am shampooing, too. Another good way to get the telephone to ring is to sit down to a meal. A hot meal works best that way it can get cold while I’m answering the phone.

Even worse is when I’m waiting for that important call, the phone rings, I gulp the mouthful of food or wrap a towel around my soapy body, rush to answer it and it’s a local charity looking for a donation. Egads! No wonder I hate telephones!

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

The Dentist

Does anyone else still have the dread of going to the dentist? I do. I’m fine once I get there. But just the thought that I have to go there, today, unnerves me. There is no fear since the modern tools of dentistry are so refined that pain is obsolete. Maybe it’s having someone’s hand in my mouth. I don’t even like someone putting words in my mouth, let alone their hand. That’s just about the time he’ll ask you a question. I always wonder if the question is sincere, since it’s impossible to answer it. By the time you can answer, he is onto something else.

Waiters do the same thing. They seem to wait until you have a mouthful of food then ask, “Is everything alright? Can I get you anything else?”

Maybe it’s the way a dentist makes me feel like a child, insinuating my gums and teeth aren’t perfect because I haven’t been brushing properly, or only brushing six times a day instead of ten times.
Anyway, the only way to get over it, is to go to it. Get it over with, then wonder why I fussed so much about it.

Friday, January 19, 2007

Coco Chanel

Yesterday I finished reading the 337-page biography “Chanel, A Woman of Her Own” by Axel Madsen (which is a family name in another book I finished reading last night. How weird is that?) Usually I like a book to ‘settle’ on me after I finish reading it and before I write about it. This book bothers me.

Coco, her father’s affectionate name for her, spent her youth in an orphanage in France but never admitting it in her recollections. Her given name was Gabrielle. That was about all of her early years she would admit to, making up various stories to suit her fancy. Her one sister died young. The other as a young, unhappily married woman who Coco refused to send money to Canada to bring her back to France as she so desperately wanted. The two brothers received money from her, at her initiation, to stay in the background and not have it publicly known they were family. After World War II her nieces came to Paris to meet her, curious about this famous aunt of theirs, but she would not admit them to her home.

She married only her business “The House of Chanel” but consented her two great loves, the ones that truly touched her heart, were Boy Capel, killed in an auto accident and Bendor, the Duke of Westminster. Her numerous lovers included other royalty and the wealthy of the day.

She died a multi-millionaire, alone, without leaving a sou to any of her family. She left everything to her butler in a will. Mysteriously the will disappeared. The core of her fortune began and grew in France but she chose to be buried in Lausanne, Switzerland.

Her designs are still worn in good taste today.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Painting with Gal-Pals

Having friends of one’s own sex is important. Guys may bond in different ways but a lot of women gather for coffee conversations, quilting, book groups, and/or lunches. I find myself delightfully rich in the fact that I have gal-pals to paint with.

We’re not doing walls and ceilings (though who knows what the future may bring) we’re doing canvasses. And while we lay our paints out to create something beautiful to see, we solve the problems of the world. Wonderful expressions are released, verbally and visually. If only the world would listen, or a neighbor or an associate, or ……………. What a lovely place it would be. No antagonisms, no violence, no attacking others in trying to make ourselves look good.

Can you possibly view a Monet and feel anger? Maybe CEO Boardrooms should install easels.

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

August Albo

In thinking about the Strauss Waltz painting, I had to find the artist, which as I noted was August Albo. It surprised me how easily I found that information by just describing the painting. Then I had to go further and find out who this guy is, or was. Now that was a bit more difficult.

He was Estonian, lived from 1880s to 1960s, (unofficial) studied in the Russian Royal Academy, a recognized artist in Moscow, Switzerland, Spain and St. Petersburg with exhibitions in Paris and Berlin. He wound up in New York City. Never did he learn any English but people who commissioned him for portraits, etc. brought their own interpreters. All the background on Albo I found was from internet sites on forums, etc. I didn’t find his name listed on any formal lists of artists. He also painted under other names including Rod Palmer.

What surprised me further was that he did another well-known painting “Free as the Wind” that portrays a herd of wild stallions running before a brewing storm. Their tails and manes are flowing in the wind. Looking into the painting I could feel the wind on my face and the feeling of their freedom, galloping over the plain.
That painting hung in my living room at the same time the Waltz was in my dining room. I never realized the two paintings were by the same artist. Only that both appealed to me in a strong sense.

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

Strauss Waltz Painting

It just wasn’t a night for sleeping. After lying in bed with “Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme” running through my head, the “Strauss Waltz” painting by August Albo popped into my head and the Strauss Waltz music replaced Simon & Garfunkle. I guess someone in the great beyond wanted me to remember him. I felt like getting out of bed and dancing around the room. Instead, I slipped out of bed, (not to disturb the girls curled up on either side of my legs,) plucked two chocolate chip cookies from the kitchen cake dish and turned the computer on.

“P S R & T” connected me to the days of when it was played on the radio everyday. That connected me to my dining room where my five-foot long, beautiful walnut classic Italian cabinet held the stereo and radio. Above it the “Strauss Waltz” print set the pace for the many dinner parties I gave in that room.

Remembering that painting makes my heart dance. Gaiety, the beauty of the crystal chandeliers reflecting in the huge mirrors, the pastel ball gowns of the women and formal tails of the men in the romantic period of the late 1800s, send their joy out to anyone who will peer into it. Just look at the painting, see the dancers floating; their images shining on the marble floor. You need little imagination to hear the resultant sounds of Johann Strauss Jr. conducting his orchestra. A lovely sound to carry me to sleep, perhaps to dream pleasant dreams of days long gone.

Monday, January 08, 2007

Songs & Memories

A song keeps going through my head as I try to go to sleep, normally an easy thing to do. But tonight for some reason “Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme” is running through my mind. I have no clue where it came from, I didn’t hear it at all today and I don’t remember seeing anything that would make me think of it. I can’t remember the last time I did hear it.

With the song, memories come of another time and other people that I haven’t seen in many years. Some I will never see again, it’s been that long ago that the song was popular and on everyone’s lips. But songs have a way, almost like photographs, that kick up a memory like an old movie running in the background. Haunting.
For those of an age, what was going on in your life, when Simon & Garfunkle were still partners, creating those wonderful songs, memories that just never leave you. Do you also remember the thoughtful and interesting cover art on the LP jackets? I can see it now, in subdued colors, a leather jacket, faces expressing their feelings. Songs and memories.

Saturday, January 06, 2007

Raleigh First Friday

Last night Peggy and I met Lynn and Steve in Raleigh and went to the First Friday Art Space artist’s reception. Marvelous! Peggy introduced us to Warren County born-and-bred Dianne Rodwell. Her art space is full of results of her multi-talents in the art field.

I have been to the “Monet in Normandy” showing at the NC Art Museum. Dianne has been to Monet’s home and gardens in Giverny where he painted these wonderful works of art and on to Provence to Van Gogh’s home. While I didn’t have a stash of cash to spend on art works, I did invest in a couple of her post cards. I know just who is going to receive them.

I was impressed with the appearance of this City Market area at night. Balls of tiny white lights the size of soccer balls hung from the trees, molded designs in tiny white lights filled walkways so even if I were alone, I wouldn’t be afraid to walk through them. They also had some delightful ‘window murals,’ that is murals painted to look like windows.

We eventually made our way to the Tir Na Nog for a hearty dinner reminiscent of Ireland, live Irish music and even an Irish dancer or two. That’s a great restaurant if you’re Irish at heart or lineage. All the restaurants seemed to sport live music of one kind or another. An ample number of people came out for this spring-like night on Raleigh’s First Friday. I highly recommend it.

Thursday, January 04, 2007

The Girls

The term “The Girls” as I refer to them, came easily after birthing four sons, having two brothers, raised in a neighborhood full of boys and marrying three guys. One at a time, that is, with a little leeway in between.

So when these two adorable rescued kittens were first placed in front of me like gift boxes to choose from, I took both. Sisters, even with different fathers, shouldn’t be separated. Plus I travel often so they are company for each other when I’m gone. They don’t appreciate that I planned that consideration for them. They sense my plans days before I even take my travel bag out of the closet. Their upturned faces show me the saddest of eyes tugging at my inner softness. It makes me not want to go anywhere and I have always loved to go, anywhere.

That’s also when they begin adhering to my ankles, in front of, rubbing the sides of and tangling in between. Sometimes I’m nearly tripping just trying to stand up. It seems as though invisible glue keeps them in place. I step, they step, I sit, they sit, I breathe, they breathe.

They are Lady Jane and Mz Lizzie. The Bennet sisters from Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice.” Jane was upgraded to a titled ‘Lady’ because she is; just like Jane in the story. Her personality and being born minutes earlier gives her the older sister air. She’s also shy and reserved, but can romp (like a rabbit) beside Lizzie when encouraged. She’s a Manx. Black and white, no tail.

Lizzie follows Elizabeth’s personality. She’s daring, impish, funny and cuddly. I can sometimes see an idea forming by a light popping up in her eyes. She’s full of life and energy. She can talk the ears off an elephant. She’s a calico born with a bent two-inch tail.

They are blessings in my life.

Monday, January 01, 2007

New Year Tradition

Traditions of cooking on New Year’s Day have changed quite a bit in some households since the fever of football has taken over. Nibbles and snacks hold appetites at bay until the real dinner is served. Foods that go a long way to feed a house full of people, or not, are a great idea.

Following in my mother’s teachings, I cook Pork and Sauerkraut with Potatoes for good luck in the coming year. It’s an old German custom handed down from her mother and grandmother. Of course they made their own sauerkraut from cabbage harvested in the fall.

Mom told me, “Sauerkraut in huge barrels lined the cellar. Grandmother would send me down with a pot to bring some up. I hated going downstairs but would eat handfuls of the kraut before I filled the pot. That was my reward for facing the fears of a dark, scary basement.”
I buy mine is a plastic bag.