Lessons Learned on My Trip Home

I'm back in Washington. Despite the frigid weather, I had a wonderful trip home, with many lessons learned.

Never Underestimate When Being a Runner will Come in Handy
Last Friday, I was on a flight that arrived at Logan Airport in Boston at 5:03pm. It was my goal to make the 5:10 C&J bus that would bring me to the Newburyport bus station, which is just five or so miles from my house. In theory, the bus arrives at the airport at 5:10, but then starts making the rounds to each terminal, A, B1, B2, C, etc. As long as one does not fly into terminal A, one can count on a small cushion to catch the bus. I did some trotting inside the airport, because I knew it would be close. When I neared the exits I saw that it was 5:14...not likely that I would make the bus since I was in terminal B1. I got outside and hurried in the direction toward the C&J stop. Then I saw the coming toward me. I tried to flag it down, but failed. I felt defeated. Then a man who had witnessed my efforts said, "Try running across to B2 and see if you can catch the bus that way!" He had to explain it to me again before I understood his suggestion. Then I took off flying. In the map below, I was at the purple/yellow star at B1 when I started running. I crossed to the other side and the C&J bus passed me again. I hauled ass all the way down the sidewalk, pulling my red L.L. Bean suitcase that was carrying my oboe and some modest weekend supplies. I'm sure I was a sight to see. But, I made it! Through gasps of breath I excitedly told the bus driver what had happened. He didn't care. I didn't get a single response from that man. But, I did make the bus!

Never Underestimate the Patience of the Oboe Teacher
I played a concert with the Seacoast Wind Ensemble while I was home. This was largely a totally insane thing to do, because I had not been to a single rehearsal. But, another member of the oboe section stated that she wanted some support and assistance, so after checking with the powers that be, she sent me the music and I had 10 days to learn it. One piece, that was particularly challenging, was an English Horn part. I don't have an English Horn with me in Washington. My oboe teacher-husband, Neil, said not to worry. Learn the piece on oboe and then when I came home on Friday, I can run through the piece on English Horn. Thus, a plan was hatched. So, I practiced my parts. I even practiced two times a day over the weekend before the concert. I listened to the piece numerous times. I sent Neil the part, sent him a link to a recording, and then had a Skype lesson with him on the piece. Then I got the first oboe part, so that Neil could practice it with me on Friday while I played the English Horn part. That all would have been great, if I hadn't practiced the music incorrectly. And, so another lesson with the oboe teacher began. Granted, patient, is probably not the first word that anyone would use to describe my Neil, nor would he describe himself that way. But, when it comes to troubles in the oboe studio, he is almost a saint. He has tools and tricks and magic that he implemented for over two hours on about 20 bars of music. He was patient and generous and kind. When I was guessing, he'd say, "You're faking it." Indeed, I was. When I got it right (even if I had been guessing), he'd say, "That was perfect. Let's do it again." We did that until 11:00 on Friday night. And, then we repeated those same exercised the next morning for another hour's session on the day of the concert. Man, when you practice something wrong, it's really hard to undo!

Hamming it up in the oboe studio at home. (I agree. When will that wallpaper come down?!)

Grading at Home is Always Better than Grading in Washington
After the concert on Saturday night I went home all aglow and re-told Neil about all of the wonders of community band. How many times does he have to hear this? Forever, as far as I can tell. But, it was also grading season for the online class that I have been teaching. So, at 11pm on a Saturday night, I settled in for some grading. Neil went to bed. Drake, good doggy buddy that he is, stayed with me and kept me company. I knew it was true already, but grading in Amesbury so much better than grading in Washington.

Me and my buddy, grading around midnight on Saturday. 

You Can Skip the Caesar Salad
If you happen to find yourself near the Wolfgang Puck restaurant in Logan Airport and your're hankering for a Caesar salad...just keep on walking. Do not go into the restaurant. Do not order the Caesar salad. Do not eat the Caesar salad. First of all, tomatoes do not belong in a Caesar salad. Second, the tomatoes are not roasted. they are chopped up bits of tomato. The salad dressing is not delicious and the lettuce was drowning in it. I think that I heard the lettuce yelling out, "Help me! Help me! I'm drowning." Most Caesar salads have shaved parm cheese. Not this salad. It was more like someone had dumped finely grated parm cheese - the kind the you could get at a greasy pizza joint - onto the middle of the salad. Do yourself a favor: Skip the Caesar salad.

It's not the Oboe, it's the Larabars
When I went through security at the airport, my luggage was pulled aside for inspection. I asked, as I usually do, if this was a random check or if they saw something that concerned them. Yep, there was something concerning in my suitcase. I said that there was a musical instrument in the suitcase. "Yes, I saw the clarinet." "Actually, an oboe." "Oh...is there much of a difference?" So, the oboe was not the problem. It was the Larabars that were in my suitcase! I had ordered two boxes of them and accidentally sent them to Amesbury instead of Washington; I was bringing them back with me. The officers opened the boxes, squeezed about eight of the bars, and then went through the whole suitcase, even opening the oboe case --under very careful supervision from me, of course! I did not have to relinquish them. I was sent on my way with a disrupted suitcase, a zillion Larabars, and an intact oboe.

Those are my lessons from being at home. It was bright and sunny and magical in the yard today when I was getting ready to leave. Drake swam in the Powwow River, retrieving a stick and crashing through the ice at the edge of the bank. I was reluctant to go. But, I will be back in just 10 days this time. It will be three weeks the time after that, but then I'll be home for a good stretch during the April recess.