time off

I will be taking a few days off.

We are going camping with a daughter, her family, and her husband’s families. There could easily be 50 or 60 people. My friend David will meet us there. We will have a good time.

Sunday most will go home, but we will go somewhere in NW Oregon and camp another two or three days, just Miriam and I. We will be off line and mostly off phone during that time.

Alzheimer’s or other wise, I like to spend time with her.

dedication

We went to a Fiddler’s contest Wednesday.

Fiddle music is not what I grew up with, but in relatively small doses I really enjoy it. That said, I have a stack of Mark O’Connor's fiddling, eve with YoYo Ma.

What struck me was the dedication to this music form. The contestants were kids, 9 to 14 or so. But they all played extremely well. Bet they don’t get into a lot of mischief -- no time.

But I also was impressed by the dedication of the family members. The contestants were from Michigan, Tennessee, Texas, Colorado, Utah, Idaho and Montana. Others were from Oregon and Washington, but some traveled a very long way. It takes dedicated parents for that to happen.

Another observation is that the little kids who were playing well at 6 or 7 do not always become the stars at 12 or 14. It seems that a lot of them have a peak time. My guess is that they develop other priorities.

Our friends who went with us (actually we went in their car), were divided. The wife thought it was an amazing performance, and the husband would have gone home early. He said some of that music was a waste of his life.

I suppose we could make a case for a LOT of things we do as being a waste of life, but maybe they have other advantages, sometimes that we do not see.

Any way I was impressed, and will spend the next week with fiddle tunes bouncing in my head.

If all of this sounds a little strange, go to this site: http://www.fiddlecontest.com/, and just listen a bit to the background music. Good sample!

rules

There must be a rule buried down in the archives of rules about indoor temperature.

We went to a concert. It was 96 outside and inside it was 65. That AC was cranking out cool. A whole coal fired generating plant was in use for that one. The lady in front of us left and came back with a light jacket. I was envious.

A good friend (who reads this blog, so I must be careful what I say!!), says that in the summer his wife wants the temperature in the house to be below 70, but in winter she wants it to be 85. When he tells that story, she nods in agreement!

The first few hot days of the year the inside of my house can be a bit uncomfortably cool, but that changes over time. It never gets really hot inside, unless we have had a couple weeks of over 100 degree stuff, but it does get warmer. I think I like it cooler inside, but not long sleeve shirt cool.

Next concert I go to during the middle of the summer, I will take a long sleeve shirt.

motor hotels

I remember when these were in use, along old highway 30.
Now the freeway buzzes near and only memories remain.
It is interesting how these things evolve. These little cabins with few amenities, where your car was parked very close, to the multi story, internationally owned, half block parking lot that we now call "motels".
I miss the simplicity we lost.

saving for what?

String to short to save?

We have a cupboard in our house full of nice dishes. We do not use them, we are saving them for some unnamed occasion.

When is that occasion?

We have a small box of 9 pieces of chocolate. This is good stuff, not the dime store kind. It was a gift from out daughter who is the designer at the chocolate factory that produces that box.

Will it get better with age? I surely doubt it.

How about those goblets on the top shelf?

I was just reminded of all of this by an email message: http://www.thegreenestdollar.com/2009/06/redefining-luxury/

What are we waiting for?

Well, I decided to use those too good to use dishes, at least once in a while, and I have been serving my grape juice in those octagonal glasses that we have had for a long time and are pretty special.

Life is short, as they say. Eat your desert first.

Sometimes, at least.

dave the snob

I am a music snob, make no mistake.

But there are some exceptions. Once a year we travel the 60 miles north of here to the town of Weiser (pronounced Wee’ - zer), to the Old Time Fiddle Festival.

Bluegrass and old fiddle are pretty decent forms of music. There will be contestants from all over the country. There will be listeners from as far.

We used to listen/watch Austin City Limits on PBS. They changed the schedule and we don’t see it often now. I do not like most current country music, though the old time stuff is more intriguing.

But along the way I was introduced to Iris Dement. For a guy who is pretty melancholy much of the time. Iris and Gabriel Faure’ seem to have a common streak, at least some times.

Friend David ususally goes with us to the Fiddle festival. The event seems to go on forever, and we sit and luxurate in the sounds, then we look at each other, nod, get up and go home!

David says it this way: “When all of the tunes start to sound the same, it is time to go.”

Wild Strawberry.

South Fork

South Fork Payette River -- Idaho.

Back before he was married my friend Randy bought a lot, way up a gravel/dirt road on the south fork.

You can look across the canyon and see the highway between Lowman and Banks. It is not that far away, but there is a deep canyon between, and one of the premier white water rafting streams. The group of houses (might call it a subdivision, but that does not seem right this far out) includes a number of unsold lots, and only a couple who are there most of the winter.

Early on he borrowed some money from a neighbor, who also was a banker -- so it was all very business, and built a rather small “cabin.”

He has worked on it through the years. Friends have helped. Some friends were better at what they did than others, but it is coming together very nicely. I helped a few times, setting tile and gluing down laminate counter. More than likely I’ll go back up this summer and set some more tile.

This time we just went to visit. We have not sat and visited for a long time. He told me of his successes, showed me his projects and his progress. We compared garden ideas and notes (this time of year there are no deer or elk around and his garden is very fine).

I reminded him of the new england saying that when a man finishes his house he will die. We will both be careful on that one.

The visit was good. We talked about gardens and sun, and deep things, of belief and values.. We talked about the wolves (he sees them quite often in the winter) of cougars and black bears. He asked about Miriam.

We have been friends for 30 years maybe. We haven’t seen each other as often as I might like. But when we get together it is good.

So, here’s to another long time friend. It was so good to sit and talk again.

weather

Let's see: Sunday's temperature was in the low 60's.
Monday's in the low 70's today is to be in the low 80's and tomorrow should hit 90.
I hope this trend does not continue.

memory

When I see this picture i remember that my parents and grandparents would often picnic in this spot. I remember picnicking there with my mother's parents not long before they went into the rest home.
Poignant.
The spot is about 18 or 19 miles out of Boise on the back side of the ski resort known as Bogus Basin.

wedding

We went to a wedding this weekend.

The groom was the son of a former pastor. The bride was from Sweden.

Weddings can be painfully inexpensive, and look it, or they can be embarrassingly over the top. This one was not spendy, but it was done so carefully and well, it was a joy to be in attendance. The flowers were well designed, the decorating in good taste (and it looked good with our newly remodeled sanctuary!).

Most of the planning was done by the groom’s capable mother and her friends. The bride just arrived in Idaho few days ago.

The music was mostly canned, but the piano player played along much of the time, an interesting touch. I generally dislike canned music, but this was done very well.

When the party began the mothers marched in and lit the candles. Then the attendants walked down the aisle. Two of each. The bridesmaids were thin and short, one very blonde and one very black. The groomsmen were handsome.

Then the groom’s brother played his trumpet (he did it very well), and the bride walked the aisle alone. Idaho is a long way from Sweden and either she does not have a father, or he was not able to come. It might be an ominous sign to the new groom!

A blonde lady (it was the bride’s sister) sang a wonderful song, full of great meaning and intonation, but it was in Swedish. A friend read a poem about hands, done in english.

The pastor/father delivered a wonderfully personal message, full of little stories and quips as well as advice and council. He knew the groom pretty well, after all! He did a superb job of being the father/pastor.

The bride and groom met 7 years ago in France. She noticed him, he did not seem to see her. She managed to be where he was through the next few years and gradually he began to notice her.

Their courtship has been on three continents, through a number of years. They could not be accused of doing it all too soon.

So, now they are married.

OK, so it's fake, but it was sure big -- 30" maybe!!

doves

When I wake early in the morning, which is more often than not, I hear the mourning doves.

Their eerie call is both reassuring and haunting. As long as I can remember I have found it that way. It is almost like Faurés Pavane. I remember hearing that piece played on a late night radio station and being totally transfixed by the melancholy sound. That transfixion has never gone away.

Doves and Faure’. Wow.

I don’t know where I got my love of classical music. My grandpa had a degree in music at a time when few even went to college. He played the piano with gusto as long as I remembered, and from an early time in my life these classical sounds reached into my inner guy.

My daughters took music lessons, two of them continued through high school. I loved to hear them practice and perform. Now, when grandkids practice those same tunes, I remember vividly.

Of course (or not) I have become a serious music slob. If there is not Classical music on the radio, I’d rather be silent than to listen to much other music. You could argue that I am chicken!

Sometimes granddaughters ask me to listen to this or that and usually I am pleasantly surprised that I like it. But I don’t go prospecting.

I will write more about music and me, but for now it is morning and the doves speak to me. I like that.