Ups and Downs

I've dropped the boy off, gone to the bank (as usual, misjudging the amount I needed to withdraw so I have to go back again), done groceries, picked up ribbon, picked up dark transfer paper for HRH's t-shirt, had brunch, and have just returned from a drive to Ahuntsic. That was certainly an adventure. Why GoogleMaps didn't just tell me to go up the 15 to Henri-Bourassa, the street I needed to be on, I don ot know. Instead I went all over the place in crazy circles and turns to get to L'Acadie. (Turns out there's an exit for L'Acadie on the 15 too. Good grief.) Also, the Met is one of my least favourite highways to travel.

Anyway, in Ahuntsic I viewed and purchased a lovely light hard cello case. It is brown! With a grey interior! And it has backpack straps and good handles and a huge pocket for sheet music! I'm thrilled. It's only about eight pounds, and since other hard cases boast about being light at 12 or 13 lbs, I'm feeling pretty smug. Don't know the maker; there's no identifying tag. The one drawback is that it doesn't fit in the trunk. But it does fit across the back seat if I raise the armrests on the boy's booster seat, so huzzah!

Yes, I'm pretty set case-wise forever now. Unless something happens to this hard case like happened to my first one, namely something punching a hole in the bottom while it was being shipped by train to Toronto.

So. On top of all the racing around and emotional stuff going on today, I'm having what I used to call a flopsy day, which I now understand is a bad fibro day: muscles lacking strength to handle fine motor stuff and even some of the mid-range motor stuff. I can't speak French to save my life today; my tongue and my lips won't form the proper shapes required. I can't hold a pencil or write properly, either. I'm mildly concerned about my lesson, but I'll let my teacher know the situation. Looking back I see that this began yesterday, which partially explains the awful, awful showing I made of a stupidly easy passage in a Brahms Hungarian dance last night (when, naturally, the celli were playing alone to work the passage). On the plus side, my bow hold was more like the new one and less like the old one, and evidently I was bowing in some sort of proper form because the large muscles on the right side of my back were sore when I got home (the soreness was not the good part, the good part was that to get them sore I had been using them, which I was supposed to be doing).

Food now, then packing for the lesson, then resting a bit, then to the lesson I go. I'm worried about getting from the lesson, which ends at five in Pointe-Claire, to the caregiver's, which is in Montreal West. Traffic is going to be awful. If this doesn't work I'll need to find another time slot, and finding this one was hard enough what with having the car and no small person to care for only once a week.

Right. Let's get on that, then.

Seeking Silver Linings

Okay. Have somewhat recovered from the Great Cello Disappointment of '08, and am ready to move on.

It was the size of the number that was throwing me. Divided by two it was easier to wrap my mind around, but still beyond what we'd originally thought and definitely beyond my budget. And I can't ask my cousin to pay that much either; he's got a spouse and a child just a few months younger than Liam, plus a mortgage.

So I think we'll just put it back in a closet until such time as we can afford it. It was in a closet for three years; another few won't make a difference. When I am Wealthy from Selling Many Books and Reaping Wild Royalties I'll think about it again. Or if we win the lottery. They're equally possible at this point.

In the meantime there are other things to save up for, like a down payment for a house. And again, it's not like I have no instrument at all; I'm not in a situation where I absolutely have to find one as soon as possible. And if size becomes an increasingly sensitive issue for my technique, the Eastman 7/8 is muchly affordable. I suspect my luthier will keep ordering them in until I find one that I am quite comfortable with, and we can then finesse it until it's perfect. My teacher has already recommended that I use a smaller instrument for improved handling and intonation -- before she was my teacher, of course, but last lesson she did say that my regular hand position was necessarily exaggerated because the cello was so large and was probably one of the reasons my intonation is wibbly. This means I get to go back to idly trying 7/8s while I sock money away. Not a bad deal at all. (One thing this experience has given me is a better perspective on the idea of buying something equivalent in quality to what I have. A lateral move that helps improve my handling of the instrument is fine, especially if it saves money like buying the Eastman would. One of the things that I was stumbling over with the Eastman celli was their affordablility; I had a bigger budget, and it's not like I had to spend the extra money, but if it was there maybe I could have found something better. Now that we're looking at saving money, things are different. Funny how a single experience can change your point of view just by giving it context.)

In other cello-related news, last night I did indeed buy that soft case I found listed on Kijiji. It was a case of (no pun intended) buying this one for $45, or taking my current case into a tailor shop to have them set a protective flap of something soft to lie under the zipper to protect what's beneath it (there's an actual term for that but I can't remember it), in this instance the cello (because remember, zipper scratching cello = bad, bad, bad) which would probably cost around forty dollars anyhow. It isn't exactly the model I used this summer with the trial 7/8 it's the next model down: more basic, less luxurious. This soft case still has three times the padding of my original gig bag and has a carrying handle parallel to the length of the case so I can carry it beside me, as opposed to the perpendicular handles the had me carrying the original gig bag upright with the neck of the cello leaning against my shoulder instead. It has backpack straps too, although I think I'll put my original straps on the new case because they're wider and have the rubber grip pads on them so they won't slip. I'm very happy with it. My cello fits very snugly in it, so the case doesn't slide around it like the original gig bag does, which means I have better control over the cello as I carry it. The one drawback I've found is that the pocket for sheet music is sized for 8 x 10 inch folders, whereas my music folder is 11 x 14. It also lacks a second small pocket on the back of the neck which is where I put my leather endpin strap in my original case, which isn't a huge deal. It's a fully acceptable sacrifice for the padding and protection! It keeps its shape when it's empty. That's how much padding it has.

I am also trying to coordinate with the seller of the hard case to take a look at it. It's the same hard case our substitute principal at the Canada Day concert had, one that I don't see listed for sale often. The hard case was going to be a necessity for the Mystery Cello, but it's obviously not as crucial any more. Still, it's a steal of a deal, and worth checking out, as I'll need a new hard case at some point. Fortunately she's open to the idea of meeting me on her lunch hour on Thursday; I'll be needing the car as she's off in Ahuntsic. I have to bring my cello, you see, to make sure it fits, and the idea of going home via public transport with two cases is frightful. Also, it would take most of my day and I have work to do.

Speaking of work, off I go to download another manuscript evaluation. And in other news, tonight is our first parent-teacher interview with the boy's educators. I'm going to forget that if I don't set an alarm to tell me when to stop working and leave in time to meet HRH at work via public transport.

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Numb

I had a wonderful all-day spiritual retreat. Great rituals, excellent workshops and discussions, awesome food, terrific company!

Then I came home and checked my e-mail -- not only am I negotiating to buy someone's semi-soft case but I also have a lead on a hard case! -- and discovered that the luthier had finally e-mailed me a quote for the repair of the mystery cello.

It will cost far beyond what I was originally quoted. Even half of it is far more than I can afford, more than I have put aside. Even if I could somehow magically conjure a high-paying job for the next month or so, I couldn't make up the missing amount.

It looks like this isn't going to happen after all.

I'm numb.

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Life Is Good

Today is a beautiful, sunny, crisp fall day, and I had my first private cello lesson in ten years.

We addressed lots of things, which didn't feel overwhelming at the time but as I'm processing it I'm thinking that wow, yes, it was a lot. Ringing tones, intonation and tonalization, bow grip, leading with the elbow (which is completely at odds with how I was originally taught, which was to lead from the wrist, but I can see how leading with the elbow opens the body up and can produce a more beautiful and precise sound, and she says she was first taught the wrist way as well so at least I'm in good company), exercises for the bow grip and how it's supposed to pivot around the thumb as the bow moves from frog to tip and back, shifting exercises from first to second position... yes, it's a lot. But these things all came up as we worked through a Schumann chorale piece, playing slow, long notes to really hear what was happening. I spent a lot of the lesson with my eyes closed or staring off at nothing while I tried to listen to the sound I was making and feel the way my hands and arms had begin repositioned so that I could do it again on my own. I felt muscles in my right arm that I didn't know were used while bowing. I just hope I can remember how it feels.

She asked about what books and exercises I had, what I'd played before, and what I was interested in playing. I didn't think at first to list the things I wanted to work on, but I didn't need to because most of them came up in the course of the lesson! Ultimately what I'm looking for is how to better create a beautiful sound, something large and rich and, well, beautiful. So we're going to go back to some of my first pieces and work on those, focusing on intonation and lovely sound, and start looking at the Rick Mooney books I bought this summer to help shifting and position work.

I am so happy to be doing something about this. And it's affordable, and enjoyable, and good for me.

I realized at the end of the lesson that I'd spent an awful lot of the last fourteen years trying not to make a big sound, thanks to the scarring experience of having seniors banging on my floors and ceilings when I tried to practise at the very beginning. The Resident Fan Club will be happy to know that from now on I am not allowed to use a practise mute, nor pull the power I'm trying to channel through the bow. My teacher's main room is tiled with lovely earth-toned ceramic tile and has a grand piano in it, so the sound echoes beautifully and it's really easy to hear sympathetic strings vibrating when you play a ringing tone.

In other cello-related news, I have a lead on a semi-soft cello case that is exactly the one I loved so much that came with the Eastman 7/8 I tried this summer! The person selling it on Kijiji is being slow about returning my e-mails though, and I don't want to lose this the way I've lost the last six tries to buy a secondhand iBook. I'm now waiting to hear when she can meet me so I can see/buy it. And last night's orchestra rehearsal was very good too; we're sounding a lot more precise and there are actual dynamics happening. We spend the first ten minutes doing exercises with a scale related to a piece we're working on, using different bow techniques and strokes and so forth. The guest conductor is tailoring these exercises to something we'll encounter in the music we're working on that night. Very clever; keeps it all fresh in the mind. And as for the music, the Wagner's off the programme and a Vivaldi concerto grosso is on.

Of course the postperson came while I was gone, so I missed a package. But there were cheques for work done waiting for me when I got home! I also did some banking, stopped by the library to pick up a reserve and found two other new acquisitions that I wanted to read as well, I put gas in the car, and did a small grocery pickup. My cello lessons are right by Fairview, and as I pulled away from my teacher's house I thought, Is there anything I need at Fairview? Nah, and kept going... only to realize on the highway halfway home that yes, I had indeed needed to pick up something very specific at Fairview, and that I was an idiot because I even had it written on a list of things to do... that was safely inside my pocket where I couldn't see it. Argh. Looks like I'm going to need an agenda again, something more portable than my lovely but big Daytimer binder I used to use when I was working outside the home. Maybe I'll treat myself to a trip to the office supply shop on the way to collect the boy, to see what they have.

In the meantime, I am brining chicken. I am tempted to get some Brie and mushrooms so I can make those delicious chicken pastry things again, but HRH is leaving early tonight so I don't think we'll have time for that. The chicken will be just as lovely on its own.

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First Lesson In Ten Years

On Sunday after lunch I headed out for a baby shower forty-five minutes away, which was lovely, but which I had to leave early because I had my first cello lesson with my new teacher to attend. I wore my funky red shoes for confidence at the lesson, and a pair of new pants I'd just hemmed. I mistimed the travel (stupid bridge work one way but not the other) and halfway there I realized that I'd be half an hour early if I went straight to the lesson, so I stopped at the needlework shop to buy the needles I needed for my next knitting project. (Note: 'Next' implies I've ever finished one. I have failed miserably at every knitting project I've ever tried. But I have begun a new one [armwarmers for me] and have decided to heroically attempt a hat for the newly hairless Mousme.) I went from the needlework shop to my lesson and was ten minutes early anyway. Sigh. I made a critical decision and unpicked the new hems on my pants with my Swiss army knife. When someone else showed up for the group lesson I unloaded the cello and walked into my teacher's house behind her.

It was odd: I was both nervous and not about this lesson. My first lesson with the new teacher was supposed to be a private one last Thursday, but last week was a disaster of sick people and forcing four days of work into the only two I ended up having free to work, so it didn't happen. Instead, the once-a-month group lesson ended up being my first. I am, as I repeatedly point out yet people seem to disbelieve because I do an impressive job pretending otherwise, extremely shy, so walking into an established social group of ten people was daunting. What's the etiquette? Where do I put my stuff? Did I take someone's parking spot? Am I sitting in someone's customary seat? At the same time, I knew my teacher and one other student, having played with them in the orchestra for seven and three years respectively, so I had something of a lifeline. (The other student and fellow orchestra member was pretty new as well, as her other teacher had only recently stopped teaching; I don't know if she'd done a group lesson yet or not. I believe she had, but it might have been only one.) The little coffee break between the youngest cellists' lesson and the group lesson was the most awkward, so awkward for me that I took a cup of coffee to have something to do with my hands. (I am not a coffee drinker; it usually doesn't agree with me. However, it was really, really good coffee, which was nice.) Eventually we settled and our teacher put us in various places around the room, we tuned, and started playing.

This is the point where I actually relaxed. I know, I know; normally I'd be tense about playing in a small group with people I don't know. But somewhere a couple of minutes in, I realised that I didn't suck. I am used to expecting to be/actually being of a lower technical proficiency than others. Here I was at par with, or even more confident than, others in the group. The beginning was rocky because I was having trouble hearing my intonation, but then something clicked and then it was all okay. There was the disaster of misplacing my hand badly when I had to go really high up while sight-reading an arrangement of Satie's 'Gymnopedie', but hey, sight-reading for fun; no harm, no foul. (Lovely, lovely pieces in that Cellobrations collection for cello quartet, I hope we play lots of them in the future.) I enjoyed it all so much that I played one of the new pieces I was given at the lesson when I got home while the boy was in the bath ( "Is Mama playing her cello for me? While I'm in the bath?" followed by appreciative applause when I'd done), and after I'd put him to bed I sat down for another hour and really worked on bowings and phrasing for 'Itsumo Nando Demo,' the song Sandman7 and I are working on. It took me the whole hour to play bits with different bowings, make a decision one way or the other, and put slurs and bowings in for the entire piece to get it to where I was happy with the phrasing. Next comes recording it while I play it in this version and listening to it to see if it actually works from an audience POV.

Also, my teacher showed us the most adorable Twinkle bow, a fully functional miniature bow used to teach children how to hold it correctly and to use the proper wrist and elbow motions. Because it's so tiny you can't help but hold it properly in order to get the maximum yield from the hair. We squealed when we saw it.

It was a great introduction to the group and to working with the new teacher. I'm looking forward to the next group lesson, which is in a month's time. After that there's a December dress rehearsal and then a performance at a group home.

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Headaches

Yesterday, not long after I wrote my journal entry about practising, my Internet connection went kablooey and I spent the next couple of hours unsuccessfully trying to fix it. I ended up turning the damn thing off and going to work in the living room. It gave me writing time, but I had tons of Internet-associated research to handle and correspondence to catch up on, and it made me very cranky. Also, I lost an expanded ETA form of that last post in which I rhapsodized about a particular shift that I love doing in one of my lesson pieces. And the post didn't actually post thanks to the kablooeyness, I discovered this morning. Gnarr. However, I managed to play cello for a while longer, and get non-Internet dependent work done as well.

Orchestra last night was good. I don't know if someone mentioned something about our situation to the guest conductor but he's really focusing on interpretation and phrasing. Quite nice. And the principal showed me a terrific fingering for the opening phrase of the Wagner clarinet piece we're accompanying (five flats! dear gods!).

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Canny

Yes! The way to successfully avoid work is to practise the cello loudly for an hour!

(I can't feel my left hand from the wrist to the base of the fingers. It's a very odd sensation. Or lack of it, I suppose. All that vibrato, you know.)

I am so incredibly pleased with the sweeter tone the luthier coaxed out of this cello with the new strings and the bridge. I noodled about with 'Itsumo Nando Demo', trying out different slurs and phrasings, then played through some of my lesson stuff again. All in all I've done about an hour. Most excellent.

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* The original post at Owls' Court
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Melancholy, And The Rosin Story

I keep tearing up at random things. My throat swells shut and I feel the hot prickle of tears in my eyes at the oddest times. I had to turn a CD off in the car last night, and again this morning. I had to put Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist down when the early morning harmony thing happened. I'm just blue, and I don't know why.

Orchestra was okay. I was so drained, though, that I had trouble summoning up the energy necessary for certain pieces. We sight-read a Hungarian dance and my fingers were like noodles during the pizzicato all over the fingerboard. My section leader, AKA my new teacher, gave me four pieces for the group lesson I'll be attending later this month, and I played through them today, feeling very... I can't put a word to it because it wasn't exciting, really; more like I was quietly pleased that I've finally done something about lessons again. This is the first assigned lesson material I've worked on in ten years.

And it was mostly easy and pretty, three of the four accompaniment to early Suzuki pieces (some of her other students are very new cellists). Except there's a set of double stops in the third part of the cello trio arrangement of a Brahms symphony movement that I can't get to save my life. This is what teachers are for.

Oh, I mentioned the rosin thing yesterday. I should elaborate on that.

When I originally recounted my wonderful story about receiving the Mystery Cello in trust from my cousin, I mentioned that I'd forgotten a suitcase full of his grandmother's music. My mother brought it up with her when she and my aunt (the mother of the cousin in question, actually) stopped by on their way to do the driving tour of the Eastern Townships. Monday night while HRH was putting the boy to bed I poured myself a glass of wine, settled myself on the living room floor, and opened it. It was exciting. Anything could lie inside! What kind of music did she like to play? Were there handwritten fingerings, or notes to herself among the pages of a favourite piece? What would I find?

It smelled of dust and damp, the kind of smell one associates with attics and antique stores. The suitcase itself is covered in textured brown leather, peeling away from the wood thanks to use and age. It closes with two clasps in tarnished brass, and her maiden initials were stamped on it in gold under the handle: R. B. B.. I popped open the clasps and lifted the lid.

The lining is that watered silk-looking fabric, possibly once a lovely rose colour, now faded to a tired shade close to that of an old pink school eraser. Inside was a black soft-side leather briefcase. I slipped my hand into the pocket of the lid first and pulled out some sheets of paper, loose photocopied pages of handwritten music copied from somewhere. Slipping my hand in again I found an unused Thomastik Permament cello A string in perfect condition except for the crumpled paper envelope.

I lifted the briefcase out and set it aside. Under it were dozens of partitions, sheet music for popular songs and dances and arrangements of orchestral pieces now forgotten, all for violin. Parlour music, for home music-making. The average price was fifty cents (sixty cents Canadian!) and the store stamps were of shops in Ottawa as well as Montreal. Pretty much the only things I recognized were the Mendelssohn violin concerto and the Beethoven violin concertos. At the bottom was a blue binder containing both violin and cello parts for quartet pieces, some of which I recognized (wedding marches, waltzes, arrangements of arias), some of which I didn't. The paper was old and crumbling apart, yellowed and stained, and it all smelled like dampness and dust. There were no dates, but I guessed the sheet music dated from around the nineteen thirties, give or take a decade or so.

The briefcase held the cello music. On top was a familiar Suzuki book, the same book and the same edition I'd started with (lots of teachers use the Suzuki books but don't teach the method). This gave me pause. Why on earth would she have had a Suzuki book? I opened it in hopes of seeing a date inside it. After all, I note down the date I purchase books and music inside the cover, and often note down the date I start or finish working on a piece. She didn't (much to my frustration when going through the other stuff), but inside the book were two sheets of looseleaf paper, still white, with notes from her teacher written on them, that outlined how to hold the cello and bow, how to place the fingers, and a couple of things to remember along with some homework. And the second of these was dated Aug 31/95.

Nineteen ninety five? Wait -- what?

Then I realized that I had no recollection of exactly when she had died. It was when my parents were still in Montreal, but I couldn't remember if it had been before or after I'd moved out. Then it occurred to me that the book was likely the property of my cousin, who had taken a couple of lessons after he'd inherited the cello before deciding it wasn't for him.

The rest of the cello music is old and crumbling too, which leads me to believe that her teacher gave it to her along with the cello. There's nothing I can really use because again it's all stuff that was popular at the time it was printed, written by composers I've never heard of. I suppose I could put some of it up on the stand and play through it to hear what it's like, but I have enough work right now, thanks.

I put my hand inside the case and slid it along the seams to be sure I'd gotten everything and my fingers bumped into something. I drew out a blue silk cleaning cloth, a Ziplock bag with two used A and D strings, then a wooden contraption made of two foot-long slim pieces of wood an inch wide and a half-inch deep, joined together at one of the narrow ends by a hinge. On one of the pieces of wood opposite the hinge end was a narrow strip of leather in a loop stapled into the wood. I know what this is! It's a homemade endpin brace! I thought, and opened it up to reveal a line of drilled holes along the unhinged end of the other piece of wood. The leather loop goes around the cellist's chair leg, the unfolded wooden strips are laid on the ground, and the endpin is inserted in one of the holes so that it doesn't slip on stone floors or mark hardwood. I ran my hands along the torn lining of the suitcase as well and found a set of violin pitch pipes and a brand new cake of Hidershine rosin. (Brand new in that it had been used maybe twice, not brand new as in purchased last week. The design on the box was decidedly outdated!) I tried the rosin last night and it's dry, not as sticky as my Hills. My initial impression is that I like it; I'll use it for a while. I thought I preferred a slightly sticky rosin, but maybe not. We'll see.

I replaced everything in the suitcase and closed it up. I'm going to have to move it from my office to downstairs because the dust (and likely mold) in it is triggering my asthma.

It was a fascinating exercise to go through every single sheet of music, turning pages carefully so they didn't crumble, feeling the dampness of the thicker books, breathing in the scent of years of music this woman made. I'm touching history a bit more, learning more about the woman who played the cello before my cousin inherited it, before I was given the wonderful opportunity to play it too.

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