What Was Supposed to Happen Yesterday

• Leisurely morning of fun errands
• Leisurely afternoon of boat riding on a gorgeous day
• The Js for a sleepover

What Happened Instead

• Another plumbing disaster (tree roots in our main water line)
• No boat ride
• No Js

Now, you just might call that a fail, but as it turned out, all is well. While the boat ride has been postponed until post-Odyssey, the Js are coming tonight for a sleepover, and the plumbing problem has been fixed (again). In the meantime, I am spending the day doing pre-flight prep work, and embarking on a redesign of the Thriller’s website. As much as I heart him, he is already driving me bat crazy. And of course, he derives unlimited delight from doing so.

Those of you not in the Ohio area (or the US) might have missed Cleveland meteorologist Mark Johnson’s mini-rant on the news the other night. He was crackin’ up — he even made the national news (although Diane Sawyer called him “Mark Jackson”).

Sports…funny thing, that.

PS – Many thanks to Mavis for her water facilities and for the great visit!

Let’s process it, let the brouhaha die down, and try to forget it.

Yes, Bron-Bron won his championship. The self-proclaimed king finally got his crown. Good for him. Good for Miami, yay I’m a good sport, congratulations, well done, nice job, drop dead, thank you.

There, see? I’m not a perpetually bitter Cavaliers fan. *ugh* OK, getting past that now and looking forward to today! A (slow, 6 MPH, smooth) boat ride, the Js for a sleepover, and puppy-sitting the famous Drago!

Awwww

Now on with the morning…late start, gotta git. And it’s Finkday, wahoo! Have a good one, fiends.

…If You Have Teenagers On Your Facebook Friend List

1. You will read every sad, angry, bizarre and hopelessly obscure song lyric on the planet. Lyrics will be posted at random, and will often have nothing whatsoever to do with the mood the teenager is in at the moment. If asked, “Whyd you post that if your not mad”, the response will often be, “idk i was just listening to it lol.”
2. lms = like my status (and you’ll get a prize — read on)
3. tbh = “To be honest.” This is the game where you “like” a friend’s status, and that friend posts a statement or two on your wall, beginning with the words, “To be honest…” Most often, the “To be honest” is followed by something along the lines of, “We don’t hang out much anymore but we need to,” and “We used to be really close and your really pretty,” and “I don’t know you really well but your my cousin’s girlfriend.”
4. lms for a rate – I am not making this up. Care to have someone judge you on a scale of 1-10 on your overall worth as a human? Smash that little thumbs-up icon. Admittedly, the lowest score I’ve seen a person give someone is 8 7, but still. Seriously? Rating people on a numeric scale in a public forum? Only in the 13-17 age demographic…
5. The cryptic, melodramatic status. Now we’ve all likely done some flavor of that from time to time, but teenagers are the undisputed world champeens. “Why do I even try anymore?” “Some people are totally fake!” “I know you lied to me.” “I hate my life.” They beg for response; for questions. Then when some unsuspecting fool writes, “hey wut happened,” the retort is either A) more cryptic prose, or B) “nothing its ok.”

Of course, with the exception of #5, these are all in good fun for the most part, and I don’t mind them at all. (Not all of my students take part in them, either.) I enjoy having my students on my Facebook friend list because I am completely non-controversial. I don’t broadcast my innermost personal turmoil on social networking sites, and I refrain — as I do here at RtB — from writing things that people (like my bosses, two of whom are also on my FB friend list) might find morally objectionable. In other words, I have nothing to hide, and that which I might need to hide stays hidden. It’s not like I’d behave differently if my students were not able to see my posts. I’m pretty boring in real life, actually. I don’t “party.” I’m just a Grammie with an attitude. A Rattitude.

And how’d you like the fact that I used “your” in the wrong context and omitted apostrophes from contractions —  and lived to tell the tale? Haha. Livin’ on the edge, lemmetellya. That’s my MO.

Rock on, Wayne.

…I present the following, you know, in case you’re wondering.

1. Jim Henson invented the term “muppet” as a combination of the word “marionette” and “puppet.” I had absolutely no idea until this morning. Seriously. Never put that together.
2. The glue on Israeli postage stamps is certified kosher.
3. WikiHow has everything.
4. I just report the news, fiends.
5. Hey, now.
6. Cryptophasia: the bizarre phenomenon of the language spoken by twins, that only the two of them can understand.
7. Last night’s gig was great, and the perfect way to bring to a close the 35 years of joy singing jazz has brought me.
8. Thirteen days to Odyssey blastoff. My dining room will soon turn into a preflight staging area.
9. It’s the weekend.

Hey, it’s 8:30 a.m. and I haven’t checked in with my 160-member worldwide readership yet.

Y’know…

I’ve never really spoken these exact words in public before…but I think my performing days are over, and I’m glad to see them go.

Time was, I couldn’t imagine myself in a position where I would not want to be onstage. The thought never entered my mind. In fact, I’ve always told my students that when they are performing onstage, I am living out my continuing dream through them. Anymore? Not so much. Case in point:

Tonight, I am performing with a group of guys (loosely named the Jazz All-Stars) up on Lake Erie. Great musicians all, and I was beyond flattered to be asked to sing. I’m doing two tunes, so no big deal, but I’ve experienced no small amount of trepidation about the whole thing for the past two months. Will the voice hold out? Can I keep company with all these hot players? Do I still have it? It’s all getting to be too much; I am, in fact, dreading it, now that the day has finally arrived. In past years, I couldn’t wait to do a gig like this. Now I’m looking past it and living for 10 p.m.

Why is this? I’ve thought a lot about it recently, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s all right. It’s all right to move on. My priorities are different now: grandchildren, travel, family and friends. I said to Mavis the other day, “I don’t care about jazz ed. anymore.” That’s not really true; I care about the style that’s become second nature to me over the decades. I care about its proliferation and its importance to America’s musical heritage. It’s the only truly American musical form, and we need to protect it like any other national treasure. I love jazz (and the blues and R & B and rock and roll) and what it’s meant to me. I guess I just don’t care to perform it any longer. In fact, I don’t think I really want to perform at all anymore. (Obvious exceptions: 1. Playing in a band with my sons; 2. Sitting in with BoomR; 3. Playing Mrs. Lovett onstage in Sweeney Todd.)

My career as a music educator is approaching its twilight hours, and I definitely do not want to be one of those choral directors who just mark time, waiting to collect the retirement pay. That attitude will always seep into the music your groups sing. I want to be involved and current and motivated till the final minute, but I think I might be drifting in another direction — away from jazz and into musical theater. Am I mental? Is this allowed? Do I not care enough? Is the world truly going to end in six months and it won’t matter anyway?

Meh. Regardless, it will be a nice evening (I hope) for the audience, and the Thriller and I will have a relaxing dinner somewhere in Port Clinton, and we will all likely survive the gig and it will be a pleasant ride home. Then we can begin pre-launch preparations for the Odyssey. (Yippy!)

Wow — a 500-word, rambling treatise on nothing in particular.  Wouldn’t be RtB otherwise, now would it?  

It’s Finkday, YaAAaaay