26-Jan-2000 Real winter
Yesterday was the first substantial snowstorm of the winter, year, century, millenium, in the Boston area. True, two weeks ago we had a snowstorm that made the morning commute a nightmare, but the snow that time was light and there wasn't much of it. Yesterday there was about six inches of snow that mixed with sleet and rain. It was heavy to shovel and made big snowbanks where it was plowed. Today it has a thick, shiny crust on top -- the kind that lets you know you won't have any control of cross-country skis -- and lies in thick slushy ruts in the streets. Mmm, snowshoes, with those little steel prongs on the bottom under the bindings so you don't slide on the crust, and you'll stay on top of the crust. If it doesn't get too much warmer before the weekend, maybe we'll go out on our snowshoes.
The thing is, what I hate is when every day is just like every other. A good snowstorm is different from the way things were yesterday. At least, the first one or two of the season are. If the weather keeps doing this every week until the middle of March we'll be sick of it, too. For now, though, I find it a welcome change; and it's a much more comfortable temperature outside than it was a week ago.
I've been working with a software package from the University of Edinburgh for the last few weeks. It doesn't really do what we want to do, but we have the source code so I rolled up my sleeves and started to hack my way into it. The amazing thing is that I'm beginning to get it to do some of what we want. I'm sure the people who wrote it wouldn't be surprised, but I'm a little startled every time I can just read a completely new bunch of code and take advantage of its shortcuts. The best part is that I find it engrossing. I'm looking forward to work each day more than I have in years.
At choir tonight we started on a new piece, Shout for Joy, that was more or less commissioned for us. It took us a while to work up any enthusiasm for it (first of all, we're not used to singing in English!) but by the time we got to the end we were psyched. There were only seven singers plus our leader/accompanist (had to look that one up in the dictionary; I don't think I've been pronouncing it right all these years) there. When we went over individual section parts it was "OK, soprano, altos, tenors, bass." The rhythm is tricky, with parts coming in a beat and a half after each other in one stretch, and at one point there are seven parts for the adult choir and three more for the youth choir. It's going to sound fantastic with lots of people doing it in the Project Manna concert, but it'll take some work. I think the Baptist choirs are going to be more comfortable singing it than we are.
OK, why did this page take so long to load? Because I wanted to show you a postcard I recently snailmailed to about 125 people who are on the eraser carvers' listserv:
The back says:
Kokopelli is the Southwestern native American flute-playing trickster.
Hide your wives and daughters when Kokopelli is in town! Kohelet is
the author of the Biblical book named after him in Hebrew, known as
Ecclesiastes or The Preacher in English. He is most famous for the
"To every thing there is a season" passage, but also wrote, "Enjoy
happiness with a woman you love, all the fleeting days of life that
have been granted to you". (9:9) Kokopelli and Kohelet never met in
person because they were separated by an ocean, five hundred years,
and different planes of reality, but I think they would have enjoyed
each other's company.
 |
 |
 |
|