Mother’s Day involved a lot of time in the car, but it was nice. I got French toast in bed and then we piled in the car and took a road trip to Wisconsin to go back to the smiley barn for sandwiches and a scenic drive. We tried to visit my mother-in-law, but she was out and about, so we broke into her house and left her flowers on her kitchen table.
Today was writing in the morning and teaching in the afternoon. My hands are about to fall off. On guitar, I’ve been working on The New Pornographers’ “These are the Fables,” which is coming along nicely, if only I could keep the lyrics in my head for more than five seconds, and The Decembrists’ “The Shankhill Butchers.” Both feature the same bar chord (F#minor), which is letting me get some good practice time in. I’m starting to get calluses down the side of my finger, so I think it’s working. On violin, I played a little Bach, a little Biber, a little Aerosmith, and a whole lot of “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” which is finally starting to come together, albeit under tempo. Well, maybe not together, exactly, but at least I’m less embarrassed to practice it at work now. But regardless of how it sounds, it’s been really good for my playing to work on it. All the double and triple stops are building up my hand strength, and my pitch accuracy in less common positions has improved 900 percent.
In other excitement, I began investigating orthopedic surgeons today. I fear the time for foot surgery is not long off. I’m utterly terrified of the prospect. I’m hoping I can stave off surgery until after I defend, but we shall see. Walking is becoming challenging on some days, so me and my stupid ballet-abused feet may be coming soon to a hospital near you.
Now, shall I tell you about my lumbago? Hello? Anyone?
I’ll try to have something more interesting to say tomorrow.