(no subject)

It rained! For four hours! The garden is soaked, and it's about damned time it didn't come out of a hose. Most of the stuff should be saved; I think the only casualties we've had is the elephant ears, and you can't eat them anyway.

This next [blank amount of time] is gonna be all about transition (wait.. all time is), and I have absolutely no idea how I'm to structure that.

It seems logical that once the land is secured we should do what others have done -- live in a nearby city, work for money, and come down on weekends to work on the house until it's habitable. Go from there. Louis already has that much lined up. I don't.

We'll see.

(no subject)

I've been doing my scales every day; I can go about 10 minutes now before my right hand starts complaining. That doesn't sound like much, but it's amazing how long it takes for the hands to build up such specific strength. I'll keep at it, though.

It's given me pause to think about my relationship with my hands. For most things, for most people, using your hands isn't anything we really think about -- your head says "eat bagel", not "hey! arm! you and the hand -- reach over and grab that! now bring it up to the mouth! there's a good lad!" And typing -- I've been typing for 21 years, and all I have to do is think about the words; my fingers pump the letters out on their own.

With the fiddle, though, I have to re-evaluate where the line is between concious, intentional movement, and unconcious, intuitive movement. If I stare at my hands while I'm doing scales, I get the positions almost right, but I'm pretty sure to screw up. If I don't look and don't think about it, and just say "Play A#," I'll most definitely screw up. However... if I don't look, but still monitor my movements, I can trust that I'll hit the note; the relationship between my concious thoughts, my hands, and my ears becomes a lot more complex.

I wonder if I should try running up and down scales while wearing a blindfold.