Skip to main content

A Rough Week

Last week was a rough one.  Last Sunday, while on vacation in Tennessee, Zoe rolled out of the bed and broke both bones in her arm.  Steve took her to the emergency room down there, of course, and we spent an afternoon with the orthopedist here once they got home.  She's fine - in a hard cast, happy as a clam, and scheduled for a full recovery in a few weeks.  Still, stressful and expensive.

On Wednesday night, while driving home from our gig in Fort Wayne, we hit a deer in Steve's car.  We weren't hurt, and the car was drivable so we got home just fine - but now that vehicle is in the body shop until the end of the month.  Insurance is picking up the huge tab but of course we are paying the deductible and adding on a windshield repair that had been needed.  Stressful and expensive.

After the week of work in Fort Wayne, I pulled my car into the driveway and turned it off.  The next morning it wouldn't start, and after an unsuccessful jumpstart and a tow truck we determined that the timing belt had broken.  Four days in the shop. Just got it back.  Stressful and expensive.

We are on our way back down to Tennessee now, to pay our  respects to Steve's father, who is ill.  Not particularly expensive, but certainly stressful. 

Here's the thing, though.  I love my life.  I love it. Nothing bad happened in any of the situations we encountered last week, or at least there will be no lasting harm.  Money is just money. It's terribly sad that I may not see Steve's father again after this week, but today I am on a road trip with my family and it's a beautiful day.  I'm traveling to Utah on Sunday for an audition and playing the Ewazen concerto next Friday, so I'm busy with wonderful oboe stuff, and although Zoe hasn't been sleeping well I feel fantastic. 

I think that before we had Zoe I would have gotten very upset about all of this nonsense.  I would have felt tight and panicky and freaked out a little bit when we suddenly went from a two car family to a zero car family in a matter of days.  I might have been too anxious about practicing for my audition and my concerto to make the time to travel south, or at least I would have struggled with it a little.   

But a baby seems to put things in perspective. All the little stuff is just little stuff.   Life is good.  Happy weekend to us all!

Comments

  1. You're a strong woman. Hope you have a blessed time with Steve's father, and I hope you play purdy in Utah.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Blog has MOVED

 Have you been waiting ... and waiting ... and WAITING for a new Prone Oboe post?  Don't wait here anymore!  The blog has moved to https://jennetingle.com/prone-oboe/  and will not be updated here on Blogger anymore.  Please come and check me out there!  I love you all - stay safe out there!  Jennet

How Do You WISH You Could Describe Your Reeds?

In Reed Club last Monday, we took a moment before we started scraping to set some intentions.  We each said one word - an adjective to describe what we WANTED our reeds to be.  An aspirational adjective. Efficient was a word that came up, and Consistent . Dark and Mysterious . Mellow . Predictable .  Trustworthy .  Honest .  BIGGER . Reed affirmations actually felt helpful - both in the moment and in the results we found as we worked.  I don't know why that surprises me - I set intentions at the beginning of the year, at the beginning of the month, at the beginning of a run, in the morning before I work.  I love a good affirmation.  I love WORDS.  But I'd sort of forgotten about the possibility of applying one to the mundane work of reed-making.   You don't have to know exactly how to GET to that result.  But having clarity in your mind about what that result is?  Helps you to stop going down unhelpful rabbit holes...

Micro Rests

 For oboists, endurance is a huge problem.  We can play an endlessly long phrase, because of the way the instrument is constructed, but we can really only do that a few times in a row before our embouchure starts to get fatigued.  We develop a buildup of air that feels exhausting to hold onto, and the thought of sustaining that kind of energy over  an entire page of music, much less a 45 minute recital program, is intimidating.    There's almost always a lesson, a week or two before a jury or a recital, where my student comes in and says, "I just can't DO this! I can play every detail in my music, but I can't put the whole thing together!  My mouth comes right off the oboe when I try - I'm going to fall apart in front of the audience, and it's going to be terrible!"  Look, I'm putting this on my students now - but there's a moment a week or so before MY performances that feels exactly the same! I have not outgrown this moment of panic. And at that...