Craftymommavt has tagged me to say seven odd facts about myself. Hers are very interesting and unusual. I always have trouble with this meme, because I am very ordinary and because I’ve already done it a few times. I started out with the statistically unusual stuff (I went to college at quite a young age) and then moved on to things my kids told me were weird (I don’t talk to animals), but I have used up those things. Hmmm.

  1. I have no sense of time, and can’t estimate how long a time has passed, even to the hour — except for the 50 minute academic hour, which I can still fit my presentations to easily, even though I no longer do 50 minute presentations.
  2. I never wear shoes if I have a choice. When I was young, I never wore shoes unless it was legally required.
  3. In general, I don’t like doing easy things. Including things that have become easy through hard work.
  4. I don’t like chocolate ice cream.
  5. I got my first white hair when I was 11. I was going seriously gray by age 30. My difficulty with appointments (see “agoraphobia”) kept me from coloring my hair, and by now it is too late, since everyone has already seen my gray hair.
  6. Overall, I think I’m not very good with the physical world. I’m better with sounds and ideas.
  7. When I meet a new piece of music, I give it a scenario (like “Chapel on the pirate ship” or “1980s sitcom” or “Silent film version of Gilbert and Sullivan.”) Until I can do that, I feel uncertain about how to approach the piece. Some directors will help with this, but my fellow choir members think I am crazy.

Okay. I have tried to come up with seven interesting things. Now it is your turn, O seven bloggers I’d like to know more about: CanadianNational, Lostarts, DadJoke, Smarticus, PinkHebe, Rampaige, Truefeed. You must tell us seven surprising things about yourself and then tag seven others.

Last night I actually did a bit better with the bells. There were moments when it felt like playing music. That is a first, I think. Usually, I just count as well as I can (which is not that well, though I am improving) and hope that it ends up sounding like something to an outside observer. I also was able to find my place again when I lost it, which is a big improvement. I think it may be that I am improving at reading music. If I were one of those who believed that everything happens for a reason, I would say that I have been suffering through bells for the past year in order to learn to read music properly. Though I still find that rhythms are easier if someone just tells me what they are (as in “It goes da-da-da-da-da-da-dada“) than if I try to look at the squiggles and dots and make it out myself.

In choir, we’re singing “Lay Up Your Treasures in Heaven”, and I went ahead and asked for the solo. I had given it a week or two for others to ask for it, and no one else had. I have been in choirs before where I was automatically given every alto solo and most of the mezzo ones, and I don’t think that’s right. It’s better for the choir and for the listeners if there is some variety there.

So I said, “If someone who doesn’t usually sing the solos wants this, give it to them, but if no one else asks, I’d like to do it.”

“Isn’t it too high?” Bigsax asked.

There are a couple of Es in there. A couple is no big deal, though. It’s when the piece stays up there for measure upon measure that I don’t like to take it as a solo.

“Nah,” I said. “Or, if it is, you can tell me so. ‘Stop screeching and sit down,’ you can say.”

That seems fair.

I’m worrying that my voice is going to age and desert me. Chanthaboune claims that continuing to work on it will stave that off, so I am going to work more on my upper register. Back when I actually worked on my voice, I used to rehearse to an A flat. There is no reason for me to be screeching on the Es.

We are also doing an ’80s piece. Allen Pote’s “Breaking the Bread.” As you listen, you cannot help but think that the sitcom is about to begin. I suggested to my neighbor that we ought to do it with fixed toothy smiles and that gesture they used to use, where they were leaning sideways and looked as though they were about to snap their fingers. And poufy hair. My neighbor is used to this. Sometimes I suggest saffron-colored draperies and shimmying, so this was comparatively mild.