It is very loud at my house. I have loud children, and of course I am pretty loud myself. We all come by it honestly (have you met my mother?), but some days it sure does seem extra loud around here. Take the other day, for example, when my children decided to practice whistling. I don't think they were doing it right, but I guess you can be the judge of that.
Just another typical lunch at the Tenor Dad residence.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
The Problem With The Problem With Peanuts
Last week I posted an admittedly non-researched post about the strange new world of peanut allergies that we parents now live in. After writing it, and seeing all of the comments about it, I got kind of curious and decided to actually do some research on the subject, and what I found out was really, really annoying.
My first question, although perhaps not the most important in hindsight, was "Why do so many people have peanut allergies now, when just 20 years ago everyone in every school in America brought PB&J for lunch?" As is turns out, there is no definite answer, although there are a few theories. One study found a link between soy products and peanut allergies, while another found no such link. The most likely answer seems to be that for some reason, a couple of decades ago people were advised not to give their babies peanuts, and not to eat them during pregnancy or while breastfeeding. As it turns out, there is no reason at all not to give, say, your 1-year-old peanuts, and so The American Association of Pediatrics took back their recommendation a few years ago and now says that peanuts are fine for everyone, but a lot of people still think that peanuts are a food to avoid during those sensitive times.
An interesting fact to back that claim up is that countries that generally give their children peanuts at a younger age tend to have lower rates of peanut allergies. So basically, we did this to ourselves with our over-caution.
Ah, over-caution. This leads me to the question I should have been asking in the first place, which is "Just how bad of a problem is this peanut allergy thing?" One would assume that schools with strict peanut rules have a child going there that has a severe allergy, right? There are people all over the place that will drop dead at the hint of a whiff of something that has touched a peanut, right? I mean, why else would there be so many strict and crazy rules at our public and private schools?
Here are the facts about the peanut allergy "epidemic." 3.3 million Americans are allergic to peanuts. Now, that includes people who are only mildly allergic as well as those to whom peanuts are deadly. Does that seem like a lot? After all, it is 1% of America. Of course, 6.9 million people are allergic to seafood, but we haven't banned shrimp in schools.
Every year in America, there are 30,000,000 hospitalizations. Thirty million! But guess how many are food related: 2,000. Only 2000 people per year have to go to the hospital for a food allergy thing, and that is not just peanuts, that is everything. Number of food allergy deaths per year? 150. Number of deaths attributed to bee stings and people being struck by lightening per year? 150. So basically, you have the same chances of being stuck by lightening and killed as you do of being killed by food. And the number of peanut-related deaths per year? 10.
Ten people per year die because of peanuts! TEN! Now, I'm not saying that ten lives are not important, but this is a slippery slope! Want to know the number of serious sports-related brain injuries per year? 10,000! And that's just in children! 2,000 kids drown every year, and around 1,600 die because of gun accidents. Why aren't sports banned in all schools?! Why is swimming allowed?
It is also worth noting that, according to the studies that have been done, secondary contact with peanuts (smelling a peanut, touching something that touched a peanut) do not generally cause any sort of reaction in allergic individuals, and when they do, it is not severe. It is not possible to die from smelling someone's peanut breath. It is not possible to die from eating a pretzel that was on a machine that had touched a peanut. The most severely allergic might get a rash or something, but the whole thing has been completely overblown.
The problem isn't with peanuts, but rather the problem is with our problem with peanuts. There may be someone at your school with a peanut allergy, but they are probably not going to die. And if they are going to die, then I think it is well and good that peanuts should not be brought into that particular classroom. But to ban all peanuts and peanut-related products, and products that were made in a plant that also houses peanuts, for everyone in the whole school as a general policy, regardless of whether or not you have any allergic students?! This is insanity! But how can you go to a school board and argue against the "safety of children?" Well, you can bring the facts.
I think, at the very center of this issue, this hits a place for me that I feel very strongly about. It's why I get mad at airport security, and why I feel that we way over-spend on the military. It's why I am furious about the police brutality at the Occupy events around the country. One of my core beliefs is that freedom should almost always trump security. Obviously there are limits, and we do need some semblance of structure and security in order to live our lives, but when we start giving up our rights and our liberties just to feel a tiny bit safer, then we've lost what I feel are some of the most important parts of this country. So give me my peanut butter back, dammit!
My first question, although perhaps not the most important in hindsight, was "Why do so many people have peanut allergies now, when just 20 years ago everyone in every school in America brought PB&J for lunch?" As is turns out, there is no definite answer, although there are a few theories. One study found a link between soy products and peanut allergies, while another found no such link. The most likely answer seems to be that for some reason, a couple of decades ago people were advised not to give their babies peanuts, and not to eat them during pregnancy or while breastfeeding. As it turns out, there is no reason at all not to give, say, your 1-year-old peanuts, and so The American Association of Pediatrics took back their recommendation a few years ago and now says that peanuts are fine for everyone, but a lot of people still think that peanuts are a food to avoid during those sensitive times.
An interesting fact to back that claim up is that countries that generally give their children peanuts at a younger age tend to have lower rates of peanut allergies. So basically, we did this to ourselves with our over-caution.
Ah, over-caution. This leads me to the question I should have been asking in the first place, which is "Just how bad of a problem is this peanut allergy thing?" One would assume that schools with strict peanut rules have a child going there that has a severe allergy, right? There are people all over the place that will drop dead at the hint of a whiff of something that has touched a peanut, right? I mean, why else would there be so many strict and crazy rules at our public and private schools?
Here are the facts about the peanut allergy "epidemic." 3.3 million Americans are allergic to peanuts. Now, that includes people who are only mildly allergic as well as those to whom peanuts are deadly. Does that seem like a lot? After all, it is 1% of America. Of course, 6.9 million people are allergic to seafood, but we haven't banned shrimp in schools.
Every year in America, there are 30,000,000 hospitalizations. Thirty million! But guess how many are food related: 2,000. Only 2000 people per year have to go to the hospital for a food allergy thing, and that is not just peanuts, that is everything. Number of food allergy deaths per year? 150. Number of deaths attributed to bee stings and people being struck by lightening per year? 150. So basically, you have the same chances of being stuck by lightening and killed as you do of being killed by food. And the number of peanut-related deaths per year? 10.
Ten people per year die because of peanuts! TEN! Now, I'm not saying that ten lives are not important, but this is a slippery slope! Want to know the number of serious sports-related brain injuries per year? 10,000! And that's just in children! 2,000 kids drown every year, and around 1,600 die because of gun accidents. Why aren't sports banned in all schools?! Why is swimming allowed?
It is also worth noting that, according to the studies that have been done, secondary contact with peanuts (smelling a peanut, touching something that touched a peanut) do not generally cause any sort of reaction in allergic individuals, and when they do, it is not severe. It is not possible to die from smelling someone's peanut breath. It is not possible to die from eating a pretzel that was on a machine that had touched a peanut. The most severely allergic might get a rash or something, but the whole thing has been completely overblown.
The problem isn't with peanuts, but rather the problem is with our problem with peanuts. There may be someone at your school with a peanut allergy, but they are probably not going to die. And if they are going to die, then I think it is well and good that peanuts should not be brought into that particular classroom. But to ban all peanuts and peanut-related products, and products that were made in a plant that also houses peanuts, for everyone in the whole school as a general policy, regardless of whether or not you have any allergic students?! This is insanity! But how can you go to a school board and argue against the "safety of children?" Well, you can bring the facts.
I think, at the very center of this issue, this hits a place for me that I feel very strongly about. It's why I get mad at airport security, and why I feel that we way over-spend on the military. It's why I am furious about the police brutality at the Occupy events around the country. One of my core beliefs is that freedom should almost always trump security. Obviously there are limits, and we do need some semblance of structure and security in order to live our lives, but when we start giving up our rights and our liberties just to feel a tiny bit safer, then we've lost what I feel are some of the most important parts of this country. So give me my peanut butter back, dammit!
Monday, November 28, 2011
How to Torment a Toddler
The season of advent is upon us once again, which means that it is time to decorate for Christmas. Yesterday, we went out and cut down our Christmas tree, which did NOT fall on me thank you very much, and brought out the advent calendar, full of doors to open on every December day until Christmas. Poor little Edward.
If you really want to torture a 20 month old boy, simply put a large tree in your house, completely cover it in toys, and then tell him not to touch it. And while you are at it, put in a large, brightly colored box full of fun looking doors, and make sure he does not open any of them. Oh, and if possible, completely cover your house with exciting yet breakable decorations that he must also keep his hands off of.
It's going to be a long month.
If you really want to torture a 20 month old boy, simply put a large tree in your house, completely cover it in toys, and then tell him not to touch it. And while you are at it, put in a large, brightly colored box full of fun looking doors, and make sure he does not open any of them. Oh, and if possible, completely cover your house with exciting yet breakable decorations that he must also keep his hands off of.
It's going to be a long month.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Cookies S01E03 - Snickerdoodles
I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving yesterday! We did, and to prepare for it, we made pies, and a special batch of Thanksgiving snickerdoodles. Enjoy the show, and come back next time for more Cookies!
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Class Warfare
The kids and I were eating lunch at Moe's on Monday, because kids eats free on Mondays at our Moe's. That seems like a terrible sentence, but I kind of like it. Anyway, we were at our booth, when a woman and two young boys came over to our table.
"Excuse me, hi," the woman said. "My son recognized your daughter from school and he wanted to come over and say hello." Her five year old son smiled and waved shyly at Ruby, as Ruby focused all of her attention onto her quesadilla.
"Ruby, aren't you going to say hi?" I asked, trying to nudge her in the proper social direction. Ruby glanced up briefly, mumbled something that might have been a greeting, and went back to eating. "Well, it was nice to see you!" I called out heartily, trying to cover up for the fact that my daughter did not seem interested in speaking to this woman's son. The boy gave another half-hearted wave and then was herded away by his mother and brother, out the door and presumably to their car.
"Ruby, do you know that boy?" I asked pleasantly, trying to get to the bottom of this behavior.
"Well, I might have played with him a couple of times, but only on the playground," she said.
"What's his name?" I pressed?
"I don't know."
"Well, do you like him? Did you have fun playing with him?"
"I guess so."
"Then how come you didn't want to say hi to him today?"
Ruby looked up and said very firmly, "He's not my friend." Then, slowly leaning over the table, as if this explained everything, she whispered to me, "He's in a different class."
"Excuse me, hi," the woman said. "My son recognized your daughter from school and he wanted to come over and say hello." Her five year old son smiled and waved shyly at Ruby, as Ruby focused all of her attention onto her quesadilla.
"Ruby, aren't you going to say hi?" I asked, trying to nudge her in the proper social direction. Ruby glanced up briefly, mumbled something that might have been a greeting, and went back to eating. "Well, it was nice to see you!" I called out heartily, trying to cover up for the fact that my daughter did not seem interested in speaking to this woman's son. The boy gave another half-hearted wave and then was herded away by his mother and brother, out the door and presumably to their car.
"Ruby, do you know that boy?" I asked pleasantly, trying to get to the bottom of this behavior.
"Well, I might have played with him a couple of times, but only on the playground," she said.
"What's his name?" I pressed?
"I don't know."
"Well, do you like him? Did you have fun playing with him?"
"I guess so."
"Then how come you didn't want to say hi to him today?"
Ruby looked up and said very firmly, "He's not my friend." Then, slowly leaning over the table, as if this explained everything, she whispered to me, "He's in a different class."
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
What I Should Have Said To That Guy
Here is what actually occurred last night while on a pizza delivery:
Me: That will be $23.79.
Punk: Ok, here's $24.
Me: (standing, waiting incredulously)
Punk: Soooo, is that it?
Here is what SHOULD have happened:
Version 1
Me: That will be $23.79.
Punk: Ok, here's $24.
Me: Huh. You know, you may not be aware of this, but it is customary to tip your pizza delivery driver. We use our own cars and spend our own gas driving over here to bring you your food as a convenience to you, and we don't charge a delivery fee, so what you should do is throw a couple of bucks our way so that we don't accidentally drop your buffalo wings on the ground. Like this. *splat*
Version 2
Me: That will be $23.79.
Punk: Ok, here's $24.
Me: Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you wanted your pizza delivered. That's the amount of money you would have handed me if you wanted to pick up the pizza yourself. My apologies, I will take it back to the pizza place for you. See you later!
Version 3
Me: That will be $23.79.
Punk: Ok, here's $24.
Me: Oh no. Please, let me get you 21 cents change. You see, either you are going to tip me, and even a lousy ten percent would be another two bucks, or else you are not going to tip me, because you don't believe in tipping. Zero tip I can live with, but 21 cents? That's like telling me to go screw myself because you hate me. No sir, either you are going to get me two more dollars, or I am going to give you your 21 cents. In the face! *clink*
Punk: Ow!
Version 4
Me: That will be $23.79.
Punk: Ok, here's $24.
Me: Is that it?
Punk: What do you mean?
Me: Well, it's customary to tip your driver a couple of bucks, at least 10%.
Punk: Oh.
Me: Hey, no problem, I will just eat 10% of your food. Let's see, that's 1 of your 10 wings, and just under one slice of pizza. I will leave you the crust. *munch* *munch* *gulp*
Version 5
Me: That will be $23.79.
Punk: Ok, here's $24.
Me: Actually, I have changed my mind. I am not going to deliver this food to you. Goodbye.
Version 6
Me: That will be $23.79.
Punk: Ok, here's $24.
Me: Ok, here's a punch in the face. *POW*
In conclusion, I hate that guy. Thank you.
Me: That will be $23.79.
Punk: Ok, here's $24.
Me: (standing, waiting incredulously)
Punk: Soooo, is that it?
Here is what SHOULD have happened:
Version 1
Me: That will be $23.79.
Punk: Ok, here's $24.
Me: Huh. You know, you may not be aware of this, but it is customary to tip your pizza delivery driver. We use our own cars and spend our own gas driving over here to bring you your food as a convenience to you, and we don't charge a delivery fee, so what you should do is throw a couple of bucks our way so that we don't accidentally drop your buffalo wings on the ground. Like this. *splat*
Version 2
Me: That will be $23.79.
Punk: Ok, here's $24.
Me: Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you wanted your pizza delivered. That's the amount of money you would have handed me if you wanted to pick up the pizza yourself. My apologies, I will take it back to the pizza place for you. See you later!
Version 3
Me: That will be $23.79.
Punk: Ok, here's $24.
Me: Oh no. Please, let me get you 21 cents change. You see, either you are going to tip me, and even a lousy ten percent would be another two bucks, or else you are not going to tip me, because you don't believe in tipping. Zero tip I can live with, but 21 cents? That's like telling me to go screw myself because you hate me. No sir, either you are going to get me two more dollars, or I am going to give you your 21 cents. In the face! *clink*
Punk: Ow!
Version 4
Me: That will be $23.79.
Punk: Ok, here's $24.
Me: Is that it?
Punk: What do you mean?
Me: Well, it's customary to tip your driver a couple of bucks, at least 10%.
Punk: Oh.
Me: Hey, no problem, I will just eat 10% of your food. Let's see, that's 1 of your 10 wings, and just under one slice of pizza. I will leave you the crust. *munch* *munch* *gulp*
Version 5
Me: That will be $23.79.
Punk: Ok, here's $24.
Me: Actually, I have changed my mind. I am not going to deliver this food to you. Goodbye.
Version 6
Me: That will be $23.79.
Punk: Ok, here's $24.
Me: Ok, here's a punch in the face. *POW*
In conclusion, I hate that guy. Thank you.
Monday, November 21, 2011
The Problem With Peanuts
My daughter's school has a no-peanut policy. But it is not just a no-peanut policy. We are not allowed to bring in anything at all that has even been processed near peanuts. For instance, because Snyder's brand pretzels are manufactured in a facility that also processes peanuts, Snyder's pretzels are prohibited at school. The reason for this, is that apparently some children are so allergic to peanuts that even being near something that has once been near a peanut can make them seriously ill.
To me, this is insane. I certainly do not want to offend any parents out there who have children with peanut allergies, but when I was growing up, such things did not exist. Were there kids out there who would die if they came near a peanut? I don't remember hearing anything about that. I do remember half the kids in school bring PB&J for lunch every day. Why were none of my classmates allergic to peanuts? I mean, I know some adults who are allergic to peanuts, but in the way that you just don't eat them, or if you touch some, you wash your hands.
The stories I hear these days involve life-threatening peanut situations, and it makes me think: what is different? What are we putting into our bodies, and our children's bodies, that is causing this new and horrifying allergy? What are we breathing? What is in our food? It's really scary, actually.
What I don't understand (and admittedly, I have not really researched this) is what is going to happen to these kids as adults. Do they grow out of this, or will they have to spend their whole lives in bubbles, avoiding Reese's Pieces and Thai restaurants? I find it incredible that schools will go out of their way to ban peanuts, but I don't hear about a lot of office buildings banning them. By my way of thinking, if you are going to go out into the world, you are going to encounter a peanut at some point, or at the very least a Snyder's brand pretzel. How can one possibly avoid peanuts for their entire lives? And what if, suddenly, tons of kids became deathly allergic to corn? Would we ban that too?
Here's another concern: a week or two ago, when I dropped Ruby off at school, she was eating breakfast in the car, which consisted of toast with peanut butter on it, and she shoved the last bit of it in her mouth as we walked across the parking lot. Does peanut butter breath kill kids too? If she had some peanut butter on her clothes, what would happen? I am not going to ban peanut butter in my house, however I also don't want to be responsible for harming somebody's kid.
I can barely imagine what it would be like to have a child with such a terrifying achilles heel. I don't think I would let them out of my sight, if being near something that had been near a peanut might mean their death, but on the other hand, how can one possible avoid peanuts forever if one is that sensitive to them? I'm sure parents whose kids actually have this problem have done a lot more research and have a lot more information than I do, so perhaps you can fill in some of these blanks. I'd love to hear from the peanut gallery.
To me, this is insane. I certainly do not want to offend any parents out there who have children with peanut allergies, but when I was growing up, such things did not exist. Were there kids out there who would die if they came near a peanut? I don't remember hearing anything about that. I do remember half the kids in school bring PB&J for lunch every day. Why were none of my classmates allergic to peanuts? I mean, I know some adults who are allergic to peanuts, but in the way that you just don't eat them, or if you touch some, you wash your hands.
The stories I hear these days involve life-threatening peanut situations, and it makes me think: what is different? What are we putting into our bodies, and our children's bodies, that is causing this new and horrifying allergy? What are we breathing? What is in our food? It's really scary, actually.
What I don't understand (and admittedly, I have not really researched this) is what is going to happen to these kids as adults. Do they grow out of this, or will they have to spend their whole lives in bubbles, avoiding Reese's Pieces and Thai restaurants? I find it incredible that schools will go out of their way to ban peanuts, but I don't hear about a lot of office buildings banning them. By my way of thinking, if you are going to go out into the world, you are going to encounter a peanut at some point, or at the very least a Snyder's brand pretzel. How can one possibly avoid peanuts for their entire lives? And what if, suddenly, tons of kids became deathly allergic to corn? Would we ban that too?
Here's another concern: a week or two ago, when I dropped Ruby off at school, she was eating breakfast in the car, which consisted of toast with peanut butter on it, and she shoved the last bit of it in her mouth as we walked across the parking lot. Does peanut butter breath kill kids too? If she had some peanut butter on her clothes, what would happen? I am not going to ban peanut butter in my house, however I also don't want to be responsible for harming somebody's kid.
I can barely imagine what it would be like to have a child with such a terrifying achilles heel. I don't think I would let them out of my sight, if being near something that had been near a peanut might mean their death, but on the other hand, how can one possible avoid peanuts forever if one is that sensitive to them? I'm sure parents whose kids actually have this problem have done a lot more research and have a lot more information than I do, so perhaps you can fill in some of these blanks. I'd love to hear from the peanut gallery.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Why This Is Late
I never promised to blog in the morning, just that I would do it every day, and yet having fallen into a pattern of morning postings, I do feel like I have missed a deadline by posting so late. But there were too many distractions today whenever I tried to write something! For instance:
5) Edward decided to grab a plastic bowl and, using the scooping method, proceded to empty the toilet water onto the bathroom floor.
4) There was a faux robbery at the pizza that ended up being a misplaced cash drawer, but a lot of time was spent in fretting and phone calls.
3) I was running errands, including picking up my check at the pizza place, picking Ruby up from school, going back to get my check again, since it wasn't ready the first time due to the frantic search, going to the bank to put my check in, buying milk, and many other fun things.
2) I had to get ready for my audition trip to New York, so there was packing to do, and trying to pick out a tie. You know, manly things.
1) But the top reason I was not writing, was because I was madly trying to memorize my Gianni Schicchi aria in Italian. I have only done the show in English, but my audition is for the show in Italian. I figured I could at least attempt to sing it in a language that they would be remotely interested in hearing it in. I think I'm about halfway there, and the audition is in 21 hours. I'll let you know how it goes.
5) Edward decided to grab a plastic bowl and, using the scooping method, proceded to empty the toilet water onto the bathroom floor.
4) There was a faux robbery at the pizza that ended up being a misplaced cash drawer, but a lot of time was spent in fretting and phone calls.
3) I was running errands, including picking up my check at the pizza place, picking Ruby up from school, going back to get my check again, since it wasn't ready the first time due to the frantic search, going to the bank to put my check in, buying milk, and many other fun things.
2) I had to get ready for my audition trip to New York, so there was packing to do, and trying to pick out a tie. You know, manly things.
1) But the top reason I was not writing, was because I was madly trying to memorize my Gianni Schicchi aria in Italian. I have only done the show in English, but my audition is for the show in Italian. I figured I could at least attempt to sing it in a language that they would be remotely interested in hearing it in. I think I'm about halfway there, and the audition is in 21 hours. I'll let you know how it goes.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Nipple Hunt
A baby bottle is comprised of three distinct pieces. There is the bottle, of course, which is the main body of the thing, generally made of glass or plastic, and its job is to hold the milk (or juice, or similar beverage). Then you have the screwy-ony-twisty-holdy part, or the "ring," which is used to attach the top and bottom sections of the bottle together and to make sure that the liquid does not leak out. Finally, you have the nipple, which is the rubbery part on top that you suck on to get the drink out of the bottle.
As far as I know, every time we have purchased a bottle it has included all three parts, so there should be no reason to have more (or less) or any one part, however this does seem to be the case. Yesterday, after all of dishes were done, I decided to give Edward a bottle so that he would take a nap. In the bin that holds all of his bottle paraphernalia sat several bottles, many (many!) rings, and zero nipples. I looked in the dishwasher, where the remainder of the clean dishes were located, and it did contain three clean nipples. That was nice at the moment, but then I got confused. How could there be a dozen bottles, almost 20 rings, and 3 nipples?!
I decided to go on a nipple hunt. I looked under the crib. I looked all around the nursery. I looked in the living room and the kitchen. I found six old bottles that Edward had hidden throughout the house. But each bottle was complete. 6 more nipples, 6 more bottles, six more rings. So even though I now had plenty of nipples, I was still overflowing with extra bottles and rings.
Are nipples like socks? Do you put them in the washer and half of them get lost? I don't understand how I can put an even number of socks into the wash and get back about 2/3 of what I put in, and hardly any matches, and I don't understand how I can wash several complete bottles and somehow lose half of the nipples. Does anyone else have this problem?
Or maybe it's just that the other bottle parts are breeding in the dishwasher....
As far as I know, every time we have purchased a bottle it has included all three parts, so there should be no reason to have more (or less) or any one part, however this does seem to be the case. Yesterday, after all of dishes were done, I decided to give Edward a bottle so that he would take a nap. In the bin that holds all of his bottle paraphernalia sat several bottles, many (many!) rings, and zero nipples. I looked in the dishwasher, where the remainder of the clean dishes were located, and it did contain three clean nipples. That was nice at the moment, but then I got confused. How could there be a dozen bottles, almost 20 rings, and 3 nipples?!
I decided to go on a nipple hunt. I looked under the crib. I looked all around the nursery. I looked in the living room and the kitchen. I found six old bottles that Edward had hidden throughout the house. But each bottle was complete. 6 more nipples, 6 more bottles, six more rings. So even though I now had plenty of nipples, I was still overflowing with extra bottles and rings.
Are nipples like socks? Do you put them in the washer and half of them get lost? I don't understand how I can put an even number of socks into the wash and get back about 2/3 of what I put in, and hardly any matches, and I don't understand how I can wash several complete bottles and somehow lose half of the nipples. Does anyone else have this problem?
Or maybe it's just that the other bottle parts are breeding in the dishwasher....
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Coke Rehab
Hello, my name is Tenor Dad, and I am a Coke-oholic. I am here today to report on my progress in self-imposed Coke rehab, and today is not a good day for me. But before I get into that, let me tell you the story of how I got into this mess in the first place.
I grew up in Vermont, and even though it is a small state, Coke use was still rampant. I don't remember how old I was when I tried my first Coke, but I was pretty young. That being said, I was a very casual Coke user, mostly having it only at McDonald's or at parties. My real problem started in college.
The actual problem in college was that my university did not serve Coke. They were a Pepsi-only campus, and there was no Coke to be found. Normally that wouldn't have bothered me, because at the time I could not tell the two apart and I was not a big soda drinker anyway. The problem was, that for reasons both financial and diabolical, my wonderful institute of learning decided to do away with traditional dining halls and replace them with fast food restaurants. When I went to the "cafeteria" I was met with choices of Burger King, Taco Bell, Chick-Fil-A, and more. These places did not serve cranberry juice, let me tell you. The only choice was soda, Pepsi to be exact. And so, every day for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I drank Pepsi.
I hated it. I was sick of it. I didn't want to drink soda all day, but I was young and had a good metabolism, so it didn't bother me too much. But slowly and very surely, over the years I became addicted to the caffeine. When I graduated from college and left the university, I still hated everything about Pepsi, but I also needed my caffeine and I had become accustomed to soda at every meal, so there was only one choice. The sweet sweet nectar of the gods that is Coca-Cola.
Now, I know what some of you are saying. Why not drink coffee like normal people? And I say to you, coffee tastes like I am eating a forest fire. I have no desire to pour black death into my throat thank you very much. Even the smell of coffee is disgusting to me, although since I have very little sense of smell I get by okay, even in a Starbucks.
So now I am out of college, addicted to Coke, but many years pass and suddenly my metabolism decides to make me fatter, and years of soda drinking slam my reflux into high gear, and I know that I need to quit. But I don't. I can't. My wife and I decided to do one of those cleanses about 6 or 7 years ago, where we reduced our diet to basically brown rice and some other gross stuff, and it was supposed to last 2 weeks. I think I made it a day and a half before I was balled up on the couch moaning and holding my head. My wife just handed me a Coke, and almost instantly I was restored. End of cleanse, beginning of sadness.
Now I have decided to wean myself off of Coke for good. I know it is delicious, and has been inspirational to me, but I refuse to let this soft drink control my life. My latest attempt has been to try and only have one Coke a day. In my prime I would often have 6-8 a day (more if it was the Superbowl), but lately I have been drinking probably 1-4 a day, depending on the day and whether or not I am somewhere with free refills. But I figure if I can have only one a day for a week or two, then I can start to skip days, and eventually give it up altogether and just drink water.
Three days ago I had one Coke at lunch, went to work at the pizza place, and only drank water all night. I woke up feeling good. This is not so bad, I told myself, and so two days ago, I also drank only one Coke at lunch, went to work, and drank water. Yesterday I woke up with a headache. Not a terrible one, but it wouldn't seem to go away all morning. At lunch, I had a Coke and the headache disappeared. Then I worked again last night and once again drank only water.
Today I want to die. I have taken my migraine medicine, I have lain on the couch moaning, nothing is working. So I just opened a Coke. I feel a little guilty about it, but maybe my mother-in-law has the right idea. She says I should spread my Coke drinking out throughout the day like normal, but just drink less. So I could drink half a Coke at lunch and half at dinner, and that way maybe I could get to the point where I am just having a sip here and there. I hope that works, cause I am not going to make it through today otherwise. Daddy needs his medicines.
Thanks for your support.
I grew up in Vermont, and even though it is a small state, Coke use was still rampant. I don't remember how old I was when I tried my first Coke, but I was pretty young. That being said, I was a very casual Coke user, mostly having it only at McDonald's or at parties. My real problem started in college.
The actual problem in college was that my university did not serve Coke. They were a Pepsi-only campus, and there was no Coke to be found. Normally that wouldn't have bothered me, because at the time I could not tell the two apart and I was not a big soda drinker anyway. The problem was, that for reasons both financial and diabolical, my wonderful institute of learning decided to do away with traditional dining halls and replace them with fast food restaurants. When I went to the "cafeteria" I was met with choices of Burger King, Taco Bell, Chick-Fil-A, and more. These places did not serve cranberry juice, let me tell you. The only choice was soda, Pepsi to be exact. And so, every day for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I drank Pepsi.
I hated it. I was sick of it. I didn't want to drink soda all day, but I was young and had a good metabolism, so it didn't bother me too much. But slowly and very surely, over the years I became addicted to the caffeine. When I graduated from college and left the university, I still hated everything about Pepsi, but I also needed my caffeine and I had become accustomed to soda at every meal, so there was only one choice. The sweet sweet nectar of the gods that is Coca-Cola.
Now, I know what some of you are saying. Why not drink coffee like normal people? And I say to you, coffee tastes like I am eating a forest fire. I have no desire to pour black death into my throat thank you very much. Even the smell of coffee is disgusting to me, although since I have very little sense of smell I get by okay, even in a Starbucks.
So now I am out of college, addicted to Coke, but many years pass and suddenly my metabolism decides to make me fatter, and years of soda drinking slam my reflux into high gear, and I know that I need to quit. But I don't. I can't. My wife and I decided to do one of those cleanses about 6 or 7 years ago, where we reduced our diet to basically brown rice and some other gross stuff, and it was supposed to last 2 weeks. I think I made it a day and a half before I was balled up on the couch moaning and holding my head. My wife just handed me a Coke, and almost instantly I was restored. End of cleanse, beginning of sadness.
Now I have decided to wean myself off of Coke for good. I know it is delicious, and has been inspirational to me, but I refuse to let this soft drink control my life. My latest attempt has been to try and only have one Coke a day. In my prime I would often have 6-8 a day (more if it was the Superbowl), but lately I have been drinking probably 1-4 a day, depending on the day and whether or not I am somewhere with free refills. But I figure if I can have only one a day for a week or two, then I can start to skip days, and eventually give it up altogether and just drink water.
Three days ago I had one Coke at lunch, went to work at the pizza place, and only drank water all night. I woke up feeling good. This is not so bad, I told myself, and so two days ago, I also drank only one Coke at lunch, went to work, and drank water. Yesterday I woke up with a headache. Not a terrible one, but it wouldn't seem to go away all morning. At lunch, I had a Coke and the headache disappeared. Then I worked again last night and once again drank only water.
Today I want to die. I have taken my migraine medicine, I have lain on the couch moaning, nothing is working. So I just opened a Coke. I feel a little guilty about it, but maybe my mother-in-law has the right idea. She says I should spread my Coke drinking out throughout the day like normal, but just drink less. So I could drink half a Coke at lunch and half at dinner, and that way maybe I could get to the point where I am just having a sip here and there. I hope that works, cause I am not going to make it through today otherwise. Daddy needs his medicines.
Thanks for your support.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
The Great Edward Elevator Escape
Edward and I were over at Nini's apartment yesterday doing laundry. As the morning started to approach its end, it became time to pick Ruby up from school, so I told Edward to get his shoes on. Edward loves to get his shoes on, and he knows that once the shoes are on, it is time to go. After I had helped him into his cute little toddler shoes (he is only 19 months old after all), I turned around for a few seconds to put my own shoes on. That was when I heard the door slam.
I turned back around and did not see Edward anywhere, so I figured he had gone out into the hall as he sometimes does. I finished tying my sneakers and opened the door into the hallway of the apartment building, but I still did not see him. That was when I heard the ding that told me the elevator had just arrived. That was when I remembered that Edward's other favorite thing to do is to push the buttons on the elevator, so I sprinted down the hallway.
The elevator door was about 3/4 closed when I jammed my foot into it, sending the door shuddering back open again. There, in the elevator, was a grinning Edward, who had run down the hall, pushed the elevator door button, gotten onto the elevator, and then pushed the button for the 2nd floor where, if I had not jammed my foot into the door, he would have gotten off and spent the afternoon happily wandering up the down the hallways while his father ran around screaming his name into the streets.
Kids. They always find new ways to surprise you, am I right? And a note to Edward: if you are caught doing something extremely naughty, the maniacal giggling does not help your case.
I turned back around and did not see Edward anywhere, so I figured he had gone out into the hall as he sometimes does. I finished tying my sneakers and opened the door into the hallway of the apartment building, but I still did not see him. That was when I heard the ding that told me the elevator had just arrived. That was when I remembered that Edward's other favorite thing to do is to push the buttons on the elevator, so I sprinted down the hallway.
The elevator door was about 3/4 closed when I jammed my foot into it, sending the door shuddering back open again. There, in the elevator, was a grinning Edward, who had run down the hall, pushed the elevator door button, gotten onto the elevator, and then pushed the button for the 2nd floor where, if I had not jammed my foot into the door, he would have gotten off and spent the afternoon happily wandering up the down the hallways while his father ran around screaming his name into the streets.
Kids. They always find new ways to surprise you, am I right? And a note to Edward: if you are caught doing something extremely naughty, the maniacal giggling does not help your case.
Monday, November 14, 2011
The Unbearable Sadness of Morning
I am not a morning person. I fully understand if you are one, and I will never hold it against you, as long as you keep your perkiness to yourself, but mornings are not for me. And it's not just that I prefer evenings or late nights over the early part of the day. I actually despise mornings altogether.
For one thing, there is the fact that my body does not function well before 9 or 10 am. If I have to wake up before 9, I will not be at my best at that time. "Oh, boo hoo," you are all saying. "I have to be at work by 8 or 9 every morning" Well, so did I once. I worked many a job that required me to be in at the standard hour of 9, or sometimes earlier. And I did not function well then either. I mean, I did it, obviously, but my best work was done after 10 am, or probably after lunch if I am going to be totally honest here. This is why I am an opera singer. You never have to work before 10 am.
So there is the fact that my body does not get even remotely tired until after midnight, no matter how sleep deprived I am, and will not function at 7 am. Even if I went to bed super early and got 9 hours of good sleep, it doesn't matter. But bodily bias aside, I just hate everything about the morning time itself.
Now, even though I am not a morning person, I still have to get up at 6:30, or 7, or 7:30 if I am super duper lucky, when one or more of my children comes bounding into bed and jumps on my head. I have tried to adjust to this, and when I am woken up at 6:30, after fumbling around in a daze to get the kids ready for the day and trying to get out the door on time, I am usually at least somewhat alert by the time I drop Ruby off at school at 8:30. But then there I am, wide awake at 8:30, with nothing to do at the worst part of the day.
A few weeks ago, after dropping Ruby off, I decided to go to the grocery store with Edward, and we arrived at around 8:40 am. Let me tell you, there is nothing more depressing than a grocery store at 8:40 am. It's almost empty for one, because most people are on their way to work. The stores around it are closed as well, because no normal store is open at 8:40 am, so the parking lot is eery and silent, like a ghost town. The stockpersons are still putting the food out, so there are palettes scattered around the aisles, and empty spaces on the shelves. An odor of melancholy hung in the air and all around me I saw workers who looked like they might have needed another hour of sleep. It made me want to cry, it was so lonely and sad.
I did my shopping as fast as I could and headed outside, where the morning sun was harsh and full of sharp angles and glaring brightness that was only getting brighter, unlike a nice sunset that is warm and comforting and slowly fading away into beauty. The shopping done, we drove home and put the stuff away, and it was still only 9:30. I had three hours until lunch! What was I supposed to do with all that time!? That is sleeping time! Sure, I could maybe clean up the house a little, or play with Edward, but he wanted a nap, and I really had no amount of useful energy, what with it being so early. All I could do was sit on the couch, wishing I had slept a little later, and before I knew it, the morning had come and gone, passing me by completely. It was time to pick Ruby up, make lunch, do stuff, have fun, be productive, and otherwise enjoy the day.
The day went by, as days often do, and when it got late, my energy continued with renewed vigor, and I stayed up too late again, knowing all the while that I would have to get up early again the next morning. And that was the saddest thing of all.
For one thing, there is the fact that my body does not function well before 9 or 10 am. If I have to wake up before 9, I will not be at my best at that time. "Oh, boo hoo," you are all saying. "I have to be at work by 8 or 9 every morning" Well, so did I once. I worked many a job that required me to be in at the standard hour of 9, or sometimes earlier. And I did not function well then either. I mean, I did it, obviously, but my best work was done after 10 am, or probably after lunch if I am going to be totally honest here. This is why I am an opera singer. You never have to work before 10 am.
So there is the fact that my body does not get even remotely tired until after midnight, no matter how sleep deprived I am, and will not function at 7 am. Even if I went to bed super early and got 9 hours of good sleep, it doesn't matter. But bodily bias aside, I just hate everything about the morning time itself.
Now, even though I am not a morning person, I still have to get up at 6:30, or 7, or 7:30 if I am super duper lucky, when one or more of my children comes bounding into bed and jumps on my head. I have tried to adjust to this, and when I am woken up at 6:30, after fumbling around in a daze to get the kids ready for the day and trying to get out the door on time, I am usually at least somewhat alert by the time I drop Ruby off at school at 8:30. But then there I am, wide awake at 8:30, with nothing to do at the worst part of the day.
A few weeks ago, after dropping Ruby off, I decided to go to the grocery store with Edward, and we arrived at around 8:40 am. Let me tell you, there is nothing more depressing than a grocery store at 8:40 am. It's almost empty for one, because most people are on their way to work. The stores around it are closed as well, because no normal store is open at 8:40 am, so the parking lot is eery and silent, like a ghost town. The stockpersons are still putting the food out, so there are palettes scattered around the aisles, and empty spaces on the shelves. An odor of melancholy hung in the air and all around me I saw workers who looked like they might have needed another hour of sleep. It made me want to cry, it was so lonely and sad.
I did my shopping as fast as I could and headed outside, where the morning sun was harsh and full of sharp angles and glaring brightness that was only getting brighter, unlike a nice sunset that is warm and comforting and slowly fading away into beauty. The shopping done, we drove home and put the stuff away, and it was still only 9:30. I had three hours until lunch! What was I supposed to do with all that time!? That is sleeping time! Sure, I could maybe clean up the house a little, or play with Edward, but he wanted a nap, and I really had no amount of useful energy, what with it being so early. All I could do was sit on the couch, wishing I had slept a little later, and before I knew it, the morning had come and gone, passing me by completely. It was time to pick Ruby up, make lunch, do stuff, have fun, be productive, and otherwise enjoy the day.
The day went by, as days often do, and when it got late, my energy continued with renewed vigor, and I stayed up too late again, knowing all the while that I would have to get up early again the next morning. And that was the saddest thing of all.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Hell of a Wednesday
I woke up with a terrible migraine, head throbbing, eyes throbbing, every sound slicing through my brain like a noisy brain slicer. I hadn't gotten enough sleep, as usual, but I had to get up and head to New York for an audition. I took my migraine medicine, hopped in the shower, and got my things together.
I left late, as usual, and headed towards Albany and the almost 3 hour train ride, realizing about 20 minutes into the trip that I had forgotten my book. The drive was fine, but I got to the station only 10 minutes before the train left, so I raced from the parking lot as fast one can in heeled leather boots, and managed to jump on with a minute or two to spare. My headache was coming back at this point, and since I had forgotten my book, I just decided to sleep.
I also spent some time looking at my music for the audition, as I was going to be presenting a piece I hadn't sung (or looked at) in almost a year, and it was a little rusty. I got off the train at Penn Station and took the subway up to my audition, except I had arrived 4 hours early. I thought it would give me time to relax, warm up, wind down, or something, but I was clearly not thinking. I had nowhere to go to do any of those things, so I spent about 2 hours in a crowded Starbucks being jostled by angry New Yorkers.
I made my way to the audition, arriving about 90 minutes early, hoping to run my rusty piece with the pianist, which I did, and it went pretty well. Then I sat in a hot, dry hallway with no ventilation for over an hour, basically condemning my voice to sound like it had been lost in a desert for some time.
I started with that piece that I had just rehearsed, and it went okay, but I've done it better. By the time they asked for my second piece, all I wanted was some water, but I soldiered on. I could feel the tickle in my throat any time I tried to sing quietly, so I overcompensated by singing too loudly (at least it felt too loud to me), and walked out of the audition feeling like I had wasted everyone's time and kicking myself all the way back to the train station.
Of course I didn't have too much time to wallow, because I had also made the brilliant move of scheduling my return train only 45 minutes after my audition, so it was a brisk trot to Amtrak, where I did make my train, luckily, and another long train ride back to Albany, where I would still have another 3 hour drive home. I would be lucky to get there by 12:30 am.
But I didn't get home by 12:30, because when I arrived back at my car, one of the tires was completely flat. It had not been flat when I left it in the morning, but it was dead now, so I had to change a tire in the dark in a sketchy parking lot wearing my nice suit. It was going okay until I grabbed for one of the lugnuts to finish unscrewing it from the tire and sliced my thumb open. Of course I had nothing with me that would help to either clean off my greasy thumb, or to stop the bleeding. Not even a napkin.
I did manage to get the spare donut onto the car, but they are only supposed to last 50 miles or so, and you can't go over 50 mph on them. Well, I drove 170 miles on that donut, all the way home at 45 miles per hour. I arrived some time after 2 am, knowing that at 6:30 or so, I would be jumped on by one or two children.
This is what it is like to be an opera singer. And I'm probably going to do it all over again next week, and the week after that. But I will probably buy a new tire first.
I left late, as usual, and headed towards Albany and the almost 3 hour train ride, realizing about 20 minutes into the trip that I had forgotten my book. The drive was fine, but I got to the station only 10 minutes before the train left, so I raced from the parking lot as fast one can in heeled leather boots, and managed to jump on with a minute or two to spare. My headache was coming back at this point, and since I had forgotten my book, I just decided to sleep.
I also spent some time looking at my music for the audition, as I was going to be presenting a piece I hadn't sung (or looked at) in almost a year, and it was a little rusty. I got off the train at Penn Station and took the subway up to my audition, except I had arrived 4 hours early. I thought it would give me time to relax, warm up, wind down, or something, but I was clearly not thinking. I had nowhere to go to do any of those things, so I spent about 2 hours in a crowded Starbucks being jostled by angry New Yorkers.
I made my way to the audition, arriving about 90 minutes early, hoping to run my rusty piece with the pianist, which I did, and it went pretty well. Then I sat in a hot, dry hallway with no ventilation for over an hour, basically condemning my voice to sound like it had been lost in a desert for some time.
I started with that piece that I had just rehearsed, and it went okay, but I've done it better. By the time they asked for my second piece, all I wanted was some water, but I soldiered on. I could feel the tickle in my throat any time I tried to sing quietly, so I overcompensated by singing too loudly (at least it felt too loud to me), and walked out of the audition feeling like I had wasted everyone's time and kicking myself all the way back to the train station.
Of course I didn't have too much time to wallow, because I had also made the brilliant move of scheduling my return train only 45 minutes after my audition, so it was a brisk trot to Amtrak, where I did make my train, luckily, and another long train ride back to Albany, where I would still have another 3 hour drive home. I would be lucky to get there by 12:30 am.
But I didn't get home by 12:30, because when I arrived back at my car, one of the tires was completely flat. It had not been flat when I left it in the morning, but it was dead now, so I had to change a tire in the dark in a sketchy parking lot wearing my nice suit. It was going okay until I grabbed for one of the lugnuts to finish unscrewing it from the tire and sliced my thumb open. Of course I had nothing with me that would help to either clean off my greasy thumb, or to stop the bleeding. Not even a napkin.
I did manage to get the spare donut onto the car, but they are only supposed to last 50 miles or so, and you can't go over 50 mph on them. Well, I drove 170 miles on that donut, all the way home at 45 miles per hour. I arrived some time after 2 am, knowing that at 6:30 or so, I would be jumped on by one or two children.
This is what it is like to be an opera singer. And I'm probably going to do it all over again next week, and the week after that. But I will probably buy a new tire first.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Should You Learn a New Aria For an Audition?
I would like to step back from my usual brand of silliness for a moment and talk about an issue that is near and dear to my heart, and which has been plaguing opera singers (and probably other singers) for generations. Namely, should you try to learn the aria from whatever show you are auditioning for, even if you have never sung it before?
I will give you an example. Last week, I traveled to New York to audition for the roles of Don Ottavio and Lenski. In both cases I had previously studied the arias from the respective shows, but never to the point of performance. For the Eugene Onegin aria, I was never really able to get that dang Russian to stick in my brain, and for the two big arias from Don Giovanni, I had worked on them in a few lessons, but they were not memorized and I hadn't really put them through their paces. So I didn't offer them at the auditions. And in each case, I was asked if I could possibly sing them anyway, and I declined, although I am quite good at making up Russian on the fly.
When it comes to matters such as these, I turn to the two people I trust more than anyone in the world, my agent and my voice teacher. They (almost) always agree on everything, but here they diverged. My agent seemed a little disappointed that I had not learned them (even though when I found out about the auditions, I was in the middle of prepping my recital and had no time to work on anything else), and she felt that if I had presented the arias, I might have been offered the parts. The Onegin people even asked if maybe I could quickly record the aria and send it to them, but that didn't end up happening. So my agent really feels that, even if they are not 100% perfect, the people casting just want to hear how my voice sounds in those roles, and I can blow them away with my other stuff.
My voice teacher says absolutely not. You should never just throw something together for an audition. You want to showcase you at your best, and some of my arias I have been working on for years! It generally takes at least 4 voice lessons or coachings on something before I really feel that I am doing it up to par, and I spend a lot of intensive work on adjusting the tenuto here, or fine-tuning a portamento there. I spend time perfecting every phrase, and I think it shows (most of the time) in my auditions. According to my voice teacher, if you bring in something moderately close to the style of the show they are doing, and they can't figure out if you would also be good singing that show, then they are idiots and that is their problem.
He also says that it is not worth spending the time and energy learning an aria from a show that is not done very often, or that you will probably not sing a lot. Of course, if they are doing Faust, and I already know the aria from Faust, absolutely I should bring it. Duh. And he agrees that I ought to learn the Don Ottavio arias anyway, since I will probably sing that role at some point. But I would not present those arias at an audition until I had really worked out the kinks.
There is also the issue of time and resources. If I had unlimited time and resources and was sitting around all day doing nothing, then sure,' I could try to learn a new aria in a week or two, and really work the heck out of it. But I am home watching two kids all day and making pizza at night. I'm lucky if I get any singing in at all on a typical day. But I don't really know what the norm is.
Hey opera singers! What would you do? Do you learn new arias for auditions? If so, do they generally go well? Has anyone ever been annoyed because you did not bring the aria from the show they are doing? I'd love some feedback.
I will give you an example. Last week, I traveled to New York to audition for the roles of Don Ottavio and Lenski. In both cases I had previously studied the arias from the respective shows, but never to the point of performance. For the Eugene Onegin aria, I was never really able to get that dang Russian to stick in my brain, and for the two big arias from Don Giovanni, I had worked on them in a few lessons, but they were not memorized and I hadn't really put them through their paces. So I didn't offer them at the auditions. And in each case, I was asked if I could possibly sing them anyway, and I declined, although I am quite good at making up Russian on the fly.
When it comes to matters such as these, I turn to the two people I trust more than anyone in the world, my agent and my voice teacher. They (almost) always agree on everything, but here they diverged. My agent seemed a little disappointed that I had not learned them (even though when I found out about the auditions, I was in the middle of prepping my recital and had no time to work on anything else), and she felt that if I had presented the arias, I might have been offered the parts. The Onegin people even asked if maybe I could quickly record the aria and send it to them, but that didn't end up happening. So my agent really feels that, even if they are not 100% perfect, the people casting just want to hear how my voice sounds in those roles, and I can blow them away with my other stuff.
My voice teacher says absolutely not. You should never just throw something together for an audition. You want to showcase you at your best, and some of my arias I have been working on for years! It generally takes at least 4 voice lessons or coachings on something before I really feel that I am doing it up to par, and I spend a lot of intensive work on adjusting the tenuto here, or fine-tuning a portamento there. I spend time perfecting every phrase, and I think it shows (most of the time) in my auditions. According to my voice teacher, if you bring in something moderately close to the style of the show they are doing, and they can't figure out if you would also be good singing that show, then they are idiots and that is their problem.
He also says that it is not worth spending the time and energy learning an aria from a show that is not done very often, or that you will probably not sing a lot. Of course, if they are doing Faust, and I already know the aria from Faust, absolutely I should bring it. Duh. And he agrees that I ought to learn the Don Ottavio arias anyway, since I will probably sing that role at some point. But I would not present those arias at an audition until I had really worked out the kinks.
There is also the issue of time and resources. If I had unlimited time and resources and was sitting around all day doing nothing, then sure,' I could try to learn a new aria in a week or two, and really work the heck out of it. But I am home watching two kids all day and making pizza at night. I'm lucky if I get any singing in at all on a typical day. But I don't really know what the norm is.
Hey opera singers! What would you do? Do you learn new arias for auditions? If so, do they generally go well? Has anyone ever been annoyed because you did not bring the aria from the show they are doing? I'd love some feedback.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Our First Parent-Teacher Conference
Yesterday, Simone and I went in to meet with Ruby's teacher for our very first parent-teacher conference. This was kind of a big deal. For Ruby it meant that she got to stay home and be sad that she was not at school (I predict this will change over the next decade or two), but for us parents, it was our first chance to really find out what was going on with our daughter, now that she was spending all of this time away from us.
Now, I have been to a parent-teacher conference before, but I was in 4th or 5th grade, and I wasn't really supposed to be there. My mother had gone to the conference, and since we lived literally across the street from the school, I was in charge of making dinner. I was making hot dogs, and I knew that you had to boil them for 5 minutes, however I didn't feel like getting the pot out, so I decided to microwave them for 5 minutes instead. I don't know if you have ever microwaved a hot dog for 5 minutes before, but after maybe 3 or 4 minutes, you will start to notice thick black smoke flowing out of the device, and I at once realized that I had probably burned the house down, so I did the only thing I could think of, which was to run across the street, race around the school until I found the room my mother and teacher were in (thank goodness for giant plate glass windows), and flail around wildly in the air until someone noticed me. You will be happy to know that the house survived, although the hot dogs did not.
Well, anyway, this was going to be my first conference as a parent, and I was nervous. I was 99% sure that Ruby was a model citizen, the smartest, funniest, most helpful (and tallest) person in her class, and that we were going to receive a glowing review. But then there was always that thought that, well, maybe we were going to be horrified. Perhaps she was a mean bully who never shared and called people nasty names. Maybe she was an annoying tattletale with no friends who liked to boss people around. What if she wasn't picking up the concepts she was supposed to be mastering?! What if, as soon as she leaves our house and my personal guidance, she completely falls apart as a human being!?
Now, that was only the 1% speaking there, and I was still 99% sure that she was fine, but in terms of resources, the 1% was taking up at least 50% of my brain, and nobody was occupying anything, so there was no meaningful change in my thought patterns. Simone seemed excited and nervous as well, so we tried to think up good questions to ask ahead of time.
Since I couldn't come up with any good questions, I resigned myself to coming across like a bumbling dorkwad in front of her teacher and tried in vain to at least think of something funny to say. We walked in and sat down, ready to receive whatever information was coming our way. The reports we get from Ruby are things like what she had for snack, and which story they heard that day, but now it was time for a better progress report.
And you know what? She was fine of course. Super smart, super happy, gets along well with everyone, reaches out to her classmates to either help them, or ask for help. Totally well adjusted. I knew it the whole time.
Now, I have been to a parent-teacher conference before, but I was in 4th or 5th grade, and I wasn't really supposed to be there. My mother had gone to the conference, and since we lived literally across the street from the school, I was in charge of making dinner. I was making hot dogs, and I knew that you had to boil them for 5 minutes, however I didn't feel like getting the pot out, so I decided to microwave them for 5 minutes instead. I don't know if you have ever microwaved a hot dog for 5 minutes before, but after maybe 3 or 4 minutes, you will start to notice thick black smoke flowing out of the device, and I at once realized that I had probably burned the house down, so I did the only thing I could think of, which was to run across the street, race around the school until I found the room my mother and teacher were in (thank goodness for giant plate glass windows), and flail around wildly in the air until someone noticed me. You will be happy to know that the house survived, although the hot dogs did not.
Well, anyway, this was going to be my first conference as a parent, and I was nervous. I was 99% sure that Ruby was a model citizen, the smartest, funniest, most helpful (and tallest) person in her class, and that we were going to receive a glowing review. But then there was always that thought that, well, maybe we were going to be horrified. Perhaps she was a mean bully who never shared and called people nasty names. Maybe she was an annoying tattletale with no friends who liked to boss people around. What if she wasn't picking up the concepts she was supposed to be mastering?! What if, as soon as she leaves our house and my personal guidance, she completely falls apart as a human being!?
Now, that was only the 1% speaking there, and I was still 99% sure that she was fine, but in terms of resources, the 1% was taking up at least 50% of my brain, and nobody was occupying anything, so there was no meaningful change in my thought patterns. Simone seemed excited and nervous as well, so we tried to think up good questions to ask ahead of time.
Since I couldn't come up with any good questions, I resigned myself to coming across like a bumbling dorkwad in front of her teacher and tried in vain to at least think of something funny to say. We walked in and sat down, ready to receive whatever information was coming our way. The reports we get from Ruby are things like what she had for snack, and which story they heard that day, but now it was time for a better progress report.
And you know what? She was fine of course. Super smart, super happy, gets along well with everyone, reaches out to her classmates to either help them, or ask for help. Totally well adjusted. I knew it the whole time.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
How Long Does It Take to Sing Opera?
It's time once again to answer questions posed to this blog via google search results. One popular way that people find this blog is by searching "How long does it take to sing opera." Since I don't really have anything posted that answers that question, I'll try to provide answers here.
Now, the main reason that I have not answered this question in the past, is because it is stupid and makes no sense. "How long does it take to sing opera?" I'm going to need you to be more specific in your search engine query wording, my dear general public. Do you mean, "How long does it take to sing AN opera?" Well, you might as well have asked "How long does it take to watch a movie?" Operas are all different lengths, ranging from short one-act operas that might run an hour or less, to epic Wagnerian 4-part cycles that take millions of hours to get through. Even the same specific individual opera will itself vary in length from night to night, depending on the caffeination level of the conductor.
Perhaps in your query you were wondering how long it takes to LEARN to sing opera. But that too, is like asking how long it takes to learn to dance the Electric Slide. Some people will pick it up in a few minutes, while others will suffer through years of miserable weddings, always clapping at the wrong time and ending up facing the wrong direction, no matter how hard they try to get the moves down. I personally have been studying voice in a professional manner (in that it cost me money) for over 15 years now. I have been making some sort of money singing opera for about 8 years, and I quit my job to study opera full time 5 years ago. 3 years ago I signed with my current management, and I have been traveling around doing opera for realsies for the past two years. So it took me either 13, 6, 3, or 2 years to learn how to sing opera. And I still take voice lessons and (hopefully) improve my singing even to this day. So perhaps it takes more than 15 years to learn how to sing opera. I will get bac to you on that.
But maybe you are really wondering how long it takes to learn a specific opera role. Again, it depends on the role and the size of your part, but I would say it definitely takes more than two weeks, because that is the fastest I ever tried to learn a role, and it did not work. Generally I try to give myself at least a month to learn a role, but if it is a longer role, or more difficult, or in a language I am not as comfortable with, I will try to give myself extra time. But then I procrastinate like all good tenors, so it ends up being about a month anyway.
The only other way I can read that statement, is "How long does it take to sing the word opera?" Hold on, let me check... Okay, I can do it in about half a second, but I suppose I could stretch it out longer... Okay, I tried to hold it out as long as I could, and I lasted about 25 seconds. Not sure if I got a great breath, as I am sitting down at the computer, so it could actually be bit longer. I will say it takes anywhere from .5 to 30 seconds to sing the word opera. There. Are you happy now? I hope you no longer view your visit to this fine blog as a waste of time, and if you have other specific questions for me, well, that's what the comments are for.
Now, the main reason that I have not answered this question in the past, is because it is stupid and makes no sense. "How long does it take to sing opera?" I'm going to need you to be more specific in your search engine query wording, my dear general public. Do you mean, "How long does it take to sing AN opera?" Well, you might as well have asked "How long does it take to watch a movie?" Operas are all different lengths, ranging from short one-act operas that might run an hour or less, to epic Wagnerian 4-part cycles that take millions of hours to get through. Even the same specific individual opera will itself vary in length from night to night, depending on the caffeination level of the conductor.
Perhaps in your query you were wondering how long it takes to LEARN to sing opera. But that too, is like asking how long it takes to learn to dance the Electric Slide. Some people will pick it up in a few minutes, while others will suffer through years of miserable weddings, always clapping at the wrong time and ending up facing the wrong direction, no matter how hard they try to get the moves down. I personally have been studying voice in a professional manner (in that it cost me money) for over 15 years now. I have been making some sort of money singing opera for about 8 years, and I quit my job to study opera full time 5 years ago. 3 years ago I signed with my current management, and I have been traveling around doing opera for realsies for the past two years. So it took me either 13, 6, 3, or 2 years to learn how to sing opera. And I still take voice lessons and (hopefully) improve my singing even to this day. So perhaps it takes more than 15 years to learn how to sing opera. I will get bac to you on that.
But maybe you are really wondering how long it takes to learn a specific opera role. Again, it depends on the role and the size of your part, but I would say it definitely takes more than two weeks, because that is the fastest I ever tried to learn a role, and it did not work. Generally I try to give myself at least a month to learn a role, but if it is a longer role, or more difficult, or in a language I am not as comfortable with, I will try to give myself extra time. But then I procrastinate like all good tenors, so it ends up being about a month anyway.
The only other way I can read that statement, is "How long does it take to sing the word opera?" Hold on, let me check... Okay, I can do it in about half a second, but I suppose I could stretch it out longer... Okay, I tried to hold it out as long as I could, and I lasted about 25 seconds. Not sure if I got a great breath, as I am sitting down at the computer, so it could actually be bit longer. I will say it takes anywhere from .5 to 30 seconds to sing the word opera. There. Are you happy now? I hope you no longer view your visit to this fine blog as a waste of time, and if you have other specific questions for me, well, that's what the comments are for.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Good Names For Christian A Cappella Groups
I'm thinking of starting a Christian a cappella group at my church. I have sung in, directed, and formed many other a cappella groups in the past, and I miss it. At a recent music meeting at the church, we were talking about doing new arrangements of old hymns, and I brought up the idea of doing a modern a cappella style group that could incorporate traditional hymn tunes and modern musical styles.
The more I've thought about this idea, the more I like it. A mixed group of approximately six voices that could sing maybe once a month in church. Low commitment to start, awesome results. But as you all know, the most important part of starting any sort of musical group is coming up with an awesome name for it. A cappella groups, if they are any good at all, must have some sort of horrible pun in their name, such as "The Tone Rangers" or "Rockapella." The problem I have found, is that when forming a Christian group, one doesn't want to get too sacrilegious, or one risks alienating one's key demographic. So I need some suggestions. Here's what I've come up with so far:
Hymnasium
Hymns and Hers
The 6 Commandments
G-flat Christ (no, wait, that is too sacrilegious. See?!)
The Beat Attitudes
The Sermonators
Psalmthing Good
Choir We Even Here
Hymnastics
The Amazing Gracenotes
Deuterockin' Me
The Bible Belters
A Choired Taste
The Acappostles
Baptism By Choir
Okay, that's what I've got so far. What do you think? Do you have better ideas? Which ones are your favorites? Once the name is picked out, I can, you know, arrange some music, find some people to be in the group, rehearse, and all that other important stuff, but I can't do anything until I know what terrible thing we will be called!
The more I've thought about this idea, the more I like it. A mixed group of approximately six voices that could sing maybe once a month in church. Low commitment to start, awesome results. But as you all know, the most important part of starting any sort of musical group is coming up with an awesome name for it. A cappella groups, if they are any good at all, must have some sort of horrible pun in their name, such as "The Tone Rangers" or "Rockapella." The problem I have found, is that when forming a Christian group, one doesn't want to get too sacrilegious, or one risks alienating one's key demographic. So I need some suggestions. Here's what I've come up with so far:
Hymnasium
Hymns and Hers
The 6 Commandments
G-flat Christ (no, wait, that is too sacrilegious. See?!)
The Beat Attitudes
The Sermonators
Psalmthing Good
Choir We Even Here
Hymnastics
The Amazing Gracenotes
Deuterockin' Me
The Bible Belters
A Choired Taste
The Acappostles
Baptism By Choir
Okay, that's what I've got so far. What do you think? Do you have better ideas? Which ones are your favorites? Once the name is picked out, I can, you know, arrange some music, find some people to be in the group, rehearse, and all that other important stuff, but I can't do anything until I know what terrible thing we will be called!
Friday, November 4, 2011
I Need New Glasses
It has been a while since I got new glasses. For one thing, my wife's insurance at her old old job had great vision insurance, but the insurance at her old job did not include vision or dental. Now she has a new job which does include these things, but it has been almost two years since I had an eye exam and new glasses. But this is not why I need new glasses.
I have young children, and they are always grabbing my glasses off of my face, or bringing them to me with their fingers on the lenses, so the glasses have been pretty beaten up over the last couple of years. There are scratches on the lenses, smudges, and all sorts of nicks on the frames. These current glasses have been in bad shape for a while. But this is not why I need new glasses.
The reason I need new glasses, is because Edward decided to bring me my glasses yesterday, but instead of handing them to me in a normal shape, I received them in this condition:
Time to find an optometrist.
I have young children, and they are always grabbing my glasses off of my face, or bringing them to me with their fingers on the lenses, so the glasses have been pretty beaten up over the last couple of years. There are scratches on the lenses, smudges, and all sorts of nicks on the frames. These current glasses have been in bad shape for a while. But this is not why I need new glasses.
The reason I need new glasses, is because Edward decided to bring me my glasses yesterday, but instead of handing them to me in a normal shape, I received them in this condition:
Thursday, November 3, 2011
The Five Stages of Owning a Car
1) Denial - "I love this car." "This is a great car!" "I am so happy to have bought this particular car!" - Denial is a temporary stage that one enters when one initially buys the car. There is a feeling of false happiness, and hope that this car will be better than the last P.O.S. you just traded away. Denial can last months, or sometimes years.
2) Anger - "Are you kidding me?! I just bought this thing!" "Seriously, car? SERIOUSLY?!" "#$%^&%$*@ CAR!" - Anger sets in once the buyer realizes that their new vehicle has major problems. Perhaps it leaks oil. Maybe to save money, the manufacturers started making the engines out of papier mache. It's possible that you will finally finish your internet research, only to learn that your car has an estimated life expectancy of 18 months. Whatever the reason, you will soon get very angry with your car.
3) Bargaining - "If I can just drive it to 100K miles, it will have been worth it." "Hold together car, I only have 16 more payments!" "I guess spending $5000 on a new transmission is cheaper than a new car..." "If I can just drive it to 75K miles, it will have been worth it." - Bargaining is the stage in which you must decide how long you are really going to keep your car, which you loved so well only two stages ago. Sometimes this stage involves negotiating with a higher power, such as an auto mechanic.
4) Depression - "I can't afford a new car." "My car sucks, so my life sucks." "I miss my old car." "It is 3 AM and I am somewhere on the Jersey Turnpike in a blizzard. I wonder how far I will have to walk to the next exit...oh, 17 miles." - Depression sets in when you finally realize that you absolutely must have a new car, but also realize that there is no way you can afford one. It is also at this stage that you notice that all of your friends seem to be getting new cars.
5) Acceptance - "Who cares if I can't afford it? I have to have car." "Well, I guess a nice used car would cost less than a new engine." "That's it. We're done, car." - Finally, one must accept that their car is terrible and barely functional and begin the process of getting a new car. Luckily for these people, there is a light at the end of the tunnel, because once they have selected their next vehicle, they get to hang out in stage one again for a while.
2) Anger - "Are you kidding me?! I just bought this thing!" "Seriously, car? SERIOUSLY?!" "#$%^&%$*@ CAR!" - Anger sets in once the buyer realizes that their new vehicle has major problems. Perhaps it leaks oil. Maybe to save money, the manufacturers started making the engines out of papier mache. It's possible that you will finally finish your internet research, only to learn that your car has an estimated life expectancy of 18 months. Whatever the reason, you will soon get very angry with your car.
3) Bargaining - "If I can just drive it to 100K miles, it will have been worth it." "Hold together car, I only have 16 more payments!" "I guess spending $5000 on a new transmission is cheaper than a new car..." "If I can just drive it to 75K miles, it will have been worth it." - Bargaining is the stage in which you must decide how long you are really going to keep your car, which you loved so well only two stages ago. Sometimes this stage involves negotiating with a higher power, such as an auto mechanic.
4) Depression - "I can't afford a new car." "My car sucks, so my life sucks." "I miss my old car." "It is 3 AM and I am somewhere on the Jersey Turnpike in a blizzard. I wonder how far I will have to walk to the next exit...oh, 17 miles." - Depression sets in when you finally realize that you absolutely must have a new car, but also realize that there is no way you can afford one. It is also at this stage that you notice that all of your friends seem to be getting new cars.
5) Acceptance - "Who cares if I can't afford it? I have to have car." "Well, I guess a nice used car would cost less than a new engine." "That's it. We're done, car." - Finally, one must accept that their car is terrible and barely functional and begin the process of getting a new car. Luckily for these people, there is a light at the end of the tunnel, because once they have selected their next vehicle, they get to hang out in stage one again for a while.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
A Picture of My Penis
Last night, while I was out making pizza, I got a text message from my wife that included the latest family portrait drawn by my daughter. Ruby, like all children (and adults, even if they won't admit it), loves to draw, and one of her favorite subjects is her family.
Now, we've seen pictures of people from Ruby before, and over time they have gotten, well, I won't say better, because who's to say Picasso's people are not "better" than Rembrandt's, but let's just say Ruby's people have moved along the spectrum from abstract to impressionist and on their way to realism. At first her pictures were just kind of scribbles, and then they became whirling squiggles with parts of faces, and now we are to the point where they include arms and legs and faces and whatnot. Oh, and they also include other things.
Now, I was looking at this picture on my phone, so it was quite small and I might not have otherwise noticed right away, but the message from my wife said "You are on the far right, in all the anatomical glory that she could muster." And looking closely, why yes, there it was, hanging halfway to my knees, a penis. Lovely.
So first of all, I have a few questions. One: Why am I not wearing any clothes? I do not normally wander around life with everything on full display. I did notice that everyone also had a bellybutton though, so I guess we are all naked. Drawing nudes is nothing new for the art world, so I suppose I will let that slide. But then Two: Where is Edward's penis? Is it too small to include? And I know vaginas might be harder to draw, but I do feel singled out as the only person in the family portrait showing off things that ought not to be shown in public.
Now that I think about it, maybe it's better that Ruby's drawings are still impressionistic. I hope that by the time she gets into fuller realism, she will no longer be drawing me in such an anatomically correct manner. But I love the picture. I love that she loves to draw, and I am excited to see her next masterpiece, whatever it may be.
But why am I so short? And how come I am the only person drawn in only one color? And....
Now, we've seen pictures of people from Ruby before, and over time they have gotten, well, I won't say better, because who's to say Picasso's people are not "better" than Rembrandt's, but let's just say Ruby's people have moved along the spectrum from abstract to impressionist and on their way to realism. At first her pictures were just kind of scribbles, and then they became whirling squiggles with parts of faces, and now we are to the point where they include arms and legs and faces and whatnot. Oh, and they also include other things.
Now, I was looking at this picture on my phone, so it was quite small and I might not have otherwise noticed right away, but the message from my wife said "You are on the far right, in all the anatomical glory that she could muster." And looking closely, why yes, there it was, hanging halfway to my knees, a penis. Lovely.
So first of all, I have a few questions. One: Why am I not wearing any clothes? I do not normally wander around life with everything on full display. I did notice that everyone also had a bellybutton though, so I guess we are all naked. Drawing nudes is nothing new for the art world, so I suppose I will let that slide. But then Two: Where is Edward's penis? Is it too small to include? And I know vaginas might be harder to draw, but I do feel singled out as the only person in the family portrait showing off things that ought not to be shown in public.
Now that I think about it, maybe it's better that Ruby's drawings are still impressionistic. I hope that by the time she gets into fuller realism, she will no longer be drawing me in such an anatomically correct manner. But I love the picture. I love that she loves to draw, and I am excited to see her next masterpiece, whatever it may be.
But why am I so short? And how come I am the only person drawn in only one color? And....
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Trick or Treating Party
This year Ruby was invited to a trick or treating party at her friend from school's house. I had conflicting emotions about this immediately. Of course I was excited that Ruby was invited over to a friend's house. But on the other hand, we always go trick or treating as a family. Was this just the beginning of the end? Would she be off on ski vacations for Christmas and spending her birthday on Maui next year? Well, maybe not, but it did set off the signal in my head that she was starting the transition to having a social life that did not include watching "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse" with me.
Luckily, as it turns out the whole family was invited, and there was going to be pizza, so we RSVP'd yes and got ourselves excited for some Halloween fun!
First we had to get into costume, which was easy for Edward, since he was going to wear his Spider-Man pajamas as a costume. Ruby had already been wearing her Donald Duck costume at school for the parade and my wife was going to be Minnie Mouse again (to go with Donald), so that left only me with no costume.
I figured if the girls were going Disney, then I should match Edward and be a superhero, but which one? I have so many superhero shirts that it was hard to choose, but Green Lantern seemed easiest, so I cobbled something together and we were ready to go.
When we got to the party, it was packed! That is one popular kid! Several people from Ruby's class were there and she was having a great time. Edward sequestered himself over at the snack table and proceeded to touch every food item within reach. Many of these items did make it into his mouth though, so that was good. With Ruby playing and Edward cause snackstruction, Simone and I were free to actually engage in conversation with other adults, which was weird. I kind of forget how to do that sometimes.
With food eaten and friends played with, it was time for the main event. Trick or treating! Everyone went outside as a group and quickly evaporated, leaving us confused as to what to do. Some families went left, some went right, a few crossed the street, and a couple more were still inside eating. We decided to just get started and the fun began!
We did kind of team up with another family or two, and they were a lot of fun. Ruby walked up to the doors with her friend, and Edward walked up with me. Let me tell you, Edward LOVES the trick of treating. It is his favorite. At 19 months old, there is nothing he loves more than taking things out of one container and putting them into another. All night long he got to go up to random people, take stuff out of their bowl, and put it into his bucket. He was in seventh heaven. The only problem was, he kept trying to take all the candy. He would go back for seconds and/or thirds, even as I would try pulling him down the steps and away from the candy. One guy had to pry his little fingers off of the candy bowl as Edward snuck back for fourths.
When we finally made it back to the party, we were surprised to find even more people there. Richmond, VT is jumping on Halloween, I have to tell you. The streets were packed with kids, and that party was hopping! Well, of course the kids did not want to leave, but it was bedtime, so we dragged them home, and then, to get them ready for bed, let them eat a ton of candy. It was a great night, and I will leave you with this last video of what the kids were doing after I told them to get ready for bed. (Hint: with their glow necklaces on, it was kind of like a rave)
Luckily, as it turns out the whole family was invited, and there was going to be pizza, so we RSVP'd yes and got ourselves excited for some Halloween fun!
First we had to get into costume, which was easy for Edward, since he was going to wear his Spider-Man pajamas as a costume. Ruby had already been wearing her Donald Duck costume at school for the parade and my wife was going to be Minnie Mouse again (to go with Donald), so that left only me with no costume.
I figured if the girls were going Disney, then I should match Edward and be a superhero, but which one? I have so many superhero shirts that it was hard to choose, but Green Lantern seemed easiest, so I cobbled something together and we were ready to go.
When we got to the party, it was packed! That is one popular kid! Several people from Ruby's class were there and she was having a great time. Edward sequestered himself over at the snack table and proceeded to touch every food item within reach. Many of these items did make it into his mouth though, so that was good. With Ruby playing and Edward cause snackstruction, Simone and I were free to actually engage in conversation with other adults, which was weird. I kind of forget how to do that sometimes.
With food eaten and friends played with, it was time for the main event. Trick or treating! Everyone went outside as a group and quickly evaporated, leaving us confused as to what to do. Some families went left, some went right, a few crossed the street, and a couple more were still inside eating. We decided to just get started and the fun began!
We did kind of team up with another family or two, and they were a lot of fun. Ruby walked up to the doors with her friend, and Edward walked up with me. Let me tell you, Edward LOVES the trick of treating. It is his favorite. At 19 months old, there is nothing he loves more than taking things out of one container and putting them into another. All night long he got to go up to random people, take stuff out of their bowl, and put it into his bucket. He was in seventh heaven. The only problem was, he kept trying to take all the candy. He would go back for seconds and/or thirds, even as I would try pulling him down the steps and away from the candy. One guy had to pry his little fingers off of the candy bowl as Edward snuck back for fourths.
When we finally made it back to the party, we were surprised to find even more people there. Richmond, VT is jumping on Halloween, I have to tell you. The streets were packed with kids, and that party was hopping! Well, of course the kids did not want to leave, but it was bedtime, so we dragged them home, and then, to get them ready for bed, let them eat a ton of candy. It was a great night, and I will leave you with this last video of what the kids were doing after I told them to get ready for bed. (Hint: with their glow necklaces on, it was kind of like a rave)
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