Almost halfway

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Nineteen weeks of school down, twenty-one to go. Not quite to the “I can see the light at the end of the tunnel” phase yet, and shame on me for even thinking it, but I know it’s there.

I think it’s going to be a good semester. Not without its problems and uncertainties, but there is good music to be made out there, and I’m confident my students are up to the task.

True confession: I have not had a cup of coffee since New Years Eve. I don’t really miss it as much as I thought I would. It’s all part of my rock and roll fantasy; my dream of being dependent on zero substances, and thereby improving my overall health and outlook. Not that I won’t ever drink coffee, mind. I love the stuff. I just don’t think it needs to dictate my morning routine anymore, decaf or not. ‘Sides, I already have enough stuff in my life that makes me jittery.

I’m trying to break some ancient habits, like always having a mug of coffee at my keyboard during 1st period — though lately, it’s been tea. I don’t need that, either. So we’ll just see how this day goes, not having my liquid luck for 6th grade rehearsal. It’s insane how we (or at least I) come to look on ridiculous substances as ritualistic necessities (although the science is often in our corner). I seek to break those surly bonds in an effort to rid my life of destructive influences — and not just food-related ones, knowwhatimean?

All right, back to the school house we go. It’s been a fun and enlightening winter break, but I long to get back to educating young minds, one wrong note at a time.

FO

The road ahead

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Regardless of whether or not you’ve made any New Years Resolutions, resolve today to be a kinder person in 2011. We think about ourselves and our own desires to a fault. Try to change that this year. I’m definitely going to. Time to share your light, and I know my readers are “those” kind of people. Do it.

That, and eat more chocolate. :-)

HNY from RtB III

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I resolve to…
I pledge to…
I promise to…

New Years Resolutions are like paper airplanes: easy to make, but difficult to keep airborne for the long haul. So, as in 2009 and 2010, I’ve tried to either stay away from them altogether, or keep them more or less non-specific.

This year, I’m afraid I must break that tradition. Two thousand eleven is the year for improving my health. Over the past twelve months, I’ve joked about several medical procedures, falls, kitchen accidents, sore muscles, aching joints, weight gain, fatigue and general malaise. Well it’s time to stop joking around. The biggest revelation upon ruminating about 2010 was the increasing fragility of my person. I have to work on that. It’s not funny anymore.

I want to be around to see my grandchildren grow up. Outside of that, I’m not making any plans. If I make it that far, it’s going to be because I took better care of myself — inside and out. Longevity is a gift, and it must be treasured and carefully tended. I’ve seen the rare example here and there of someone who lives a long life with virtually no health problems while doing nothing to take care of his or her body — but that wouldn’t be my luck. So I must take the controls and pilot the paper airplane. No one’s going to do it for me.

Last year, I promised to “do more good, love my family more, treat myself better.” I think I pulled that off in several respects, although I’m certain I could have done more. Still, those promises were pretty generic. Now it’s time to get specific; low-down and sneaky, as an old musician friend used to say (RIP, Kenny Hoffman).

So off we go. Start your engines…

:-)

Another auld lang syne

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Happy Birthday (yesterday) to my baby boy Lars, and Happy Anniversary to the Thriller and me this day. ‘Tis a weekend to celebrate, so after coffee and letting out Helen & Lars’s pups, off to Detroit we go, for a day trip.  Why a day trip? Because I won’t be caught dead in downtown Detroit on New Year’s Eve. Well maybe I actually would be…

We’ll see how crowded everything is. Yipes.

Happy New Year, my fiends — after the last two, we all need one in 2011.

FO

Review: Elizabeth R

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As many of you know, I am an ardent fan of Tudor history. Ever since watching The Six Wives of Henry VIII as a 13-year-old, I’ve been fascinated by their ascensions, reigns, and the lasting influence their policies exacted on the western world.

For those who may not know, the whole of Europe was ruled by the Roman Catholic Church until Henry VIII broke ties forever with the Pope by declaring himself Supreme Head of the Church in England (translation: Pope wouldn’t grant him a divorce, so he took his toys and went elsewhere). Think on what might have happened had the rift not taken place: the pilgrims who stepped off the boat at Cape Cod might have been Catholics — which could also mean that there quite possibly would have been no pilgrims. Hmmmm. Ripples in a pond…

Anyway, get to the point. I’ve been carving out some time in my evenings to watch Elizabeth R, the highly-acclaimed 1971 BBC miniseries. Featuring Glenda Jackson as Elizabeth, the second daughter of Henry VIII, it traces her reign (the  longest of all six Tudor monarchs) from 1558-1603.

I wanted to watch it because of its high praise for being the most historically accurate portrayal ever of the Virgin Queen (classified as such because she chose not to marry, as opposed to choosing to remain chaste, although there is no real proof that she was or wasn’t). After having viewed four of the six 80-minute plays, I must say I am delighted.

Don’t expect the expected. There are no special effects; no epic jousting or fighting scenes, no zooms on the beheadings, no slash and gore. Save a few outdoor shots of people on horses or traveling a country road, the production could easily transfer to a stage without alteration. The tasty parts are in the acting.

Obviously, this is a one-woman show, so Glenda Jackson bakes, takes and eats the cake. She successfully portrays the inner struggle — yet outer victory — of a woman sworn to be a good and benevolent queen, in spite of having been largely abandoned and neglected by her father and the court as a child. (Her mother was Anne Boleyn, and as we all know, that didn’t end well.)

I found myself transfixed during the long scenes of dialogue. This series is definitely not an amalgamation of  fluffy, pretentious and unintelligible Britspeak. Rather, it’s a riveting, dramatic history lesson for the British people about their own royal line. Fortunately, thanks to syndication and whatnot, the rest of the world gets to learn, too.

So, fellow Anglophiles, bibliophiles, historiophiles, Tudorphiles, and any other philes — don’t miss this. It’s a stimulating, informative and heartbreaking peek into the world of a woman whose reign inspired a great flourish in the arts, literature, science and foreign relations. It’s available streaming on Netflix, so get bizzy.

On the Rat-O-Meter scale of five cheeses, I give Elizabeth R:

OK. Off to get ready for breakfast with Finkville fiend Meg, then a sleepover with the Js. Vacation = good.