Beff's semester finishes today, and she is due home after dark tonight. Tomorrow night we take Big Mike out for Chinese buffet

Today's pictures are the forsythias on the side of the house and by the garage -- pathetic, huh? Then we have extreme closeups of the hostas coming back and the embryonic flowers on the red rhododendron, and Cammy looking out the window. This is followed by the current ladder situation, the copper plates ready to install, and the slate tile that lodged in the yard.

APRIL 29. Breakfast this morning coffee and a blueberry scone, eaten in the driver's seat of a blue Toyota Corolla (mine). Dinner was vegetable tempura, miso soup, chicken teriyaki, and vanilla ice cream. Lunch was shredded chicken with garlic sauce and hot and sour soup. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 36.1 and 71.4. LARGE EXPENSES this last week were the rest of the cost of fixing the roof, $7,285; parking in New York, $30. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS the tune by Graham Station on The History of Funk Volume 3. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: It was October, 1988 when Beff and I went post-Platonic. That was in Woodside, in my cabin in the redwoods the year I taught at Stanford. Later that week, we went to dinner with Ross (Bauer) and his woman-of-the-year (also known as Beth) in San Francisco before a concert where Ross had a piece. After the usual chitchat about the concert and rehearsals, Beff and I dropped the bombshell about our new post-Platonic relationship. Ross spent the rest of dinner utterly silent, staring at his napkin. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 4. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK copper showing through a knothole. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: Why does popcorn pop? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Sun tea mixed with lemonade, various fruits, salmon. BIRDS HEARD OR SEEN THIS WEEK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE the cormorant over the Assabet River. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS WEEK 0. FULL NIGHTS OF SLEEP THE LAST WEEK: 7. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE incapacitation, technique, five blades of grass, a toke.

The best news of the week is that Beff gets back tomorrow night; alas, showers and thunderstorms are forecast, so I'm fully prepared to spend some serious carpet time in Logan Airport. Well, actually, I'm not. But I will if I have to. Thankfully for me and for Beff, I sprang for an extra house cleaning today by The Maids, and it smells like the antiseptic version of Lemon Pledge.

Yesterday I drove to New York City for Augustus Arnone's piano recital at Merkin Hall, meeting with Brandeis alumna Ann Tanenbaum as part of the trip. Thinking I may be solicited to go out for a beer, I called Marilyn Nonken to ask to stay on her couch, and she answered in the affirmative. So there was plenty of aerobic walking in New York between events, and I spent quite a bit of time in Tower Records waiting to meet Marilyn for dinner -- which was at Dan's Japanese just up the street, as you may have gathered from the first paragraph. I also had the aluminum can of Kirin Ichiban, and it satisfied.

Augustus's recital had a surprisingly good turnout -- thankfully not the usual collection of musicians you see at mod music concerts. He called the concert "20th Century Studies," and then blatantly played pieces of mine from 2003 (Etudes Book VI). Probably not realizing that they were written in the 21st century, no matter whose counting system you use. For once, my pieces started a concert, and I simply had fun. "Cell Division" actually made me a little dizzy at times -- all that treble, all those competing arpeggios, UP and down and UP and down -- and the tango was suitably sultry. After a good performance of the Carter Piano Sonata, Marilyn and I discussed it, and neither of us likes any of Carter's piano music. Whereas I think I like a lot more other Carter pieces than she does. The second half was the first book of Debussy etudes -- Debussy's attempt at cocktail piano music, I guess -- and a big piece by Roberto Sierra. After the concert, one woman told me she was a painter and "Cell Division" just made her want to go to her studio and paint. I'm sure I speak for at least one composer when I say that composer(s) don't usually know what to do with that sort of remark, except perhaps to smile (perchance to dream), nod, and say, "Cool" or "Thank you." Then, in an extreme bout of esprit d'escalier, I(we) realize that these etudes are conceived somewhat visually anyway, and saying they give someone else visual ideas is the highest form of compliment. Still, I(we) say, "Cool" or "Thank you."

Before the etude set -- like 4 seconds before it -- a woman in front of us turned off her cell phone, not realizing that that sound was going to be upcoming thematic material. Augustus smiled, thinking it was done on purpose. And Don Hagar showed up, whom I haven't seen in some while (I once got a parking ticket when I drove into Boston to give him a free lesson), and we promised an exchange of CDs. Ah, the composer life. After the concert, Marilyn and I got a six of Saranac Black and Tan and demolished it while watching a DVD of the Marine Band. The first thing she said after the clarinets stopped playing and the camera lingered was, "Oh look -- I recognize that -- that's the 'counting face'."

Earlier in the week there were just things that had to get done. On Friday the roofers installed copper at the joints of the two dormers, and they were immediately put to the test -- we had an obnoxious, windy, driving rainstorm on Saturday. The attic stayed bone-dry, and the place that has leaked these last five years was also as dry as can be -- which gives us one more pail to use as we see fit. Or fee sit. On Tuesday they came back to do more work, including copperizing the bathroom outtake chimney and lining the sides of the chimneys with lead, and today they are finishing the job, copperizing all the corners on the roof. Doug Raboin claims the fixes will last 60-80 years (would one of the almost eleven volunteer to return here in 2065 to see if I deserve my money back?). I got the walkthrough of all the work accomplished, and got to see some of the old rotted wood that was replaced underneath the new copper. The coolest thing, until the copper oxidizes, will be how bright and shiny the edges appear from the road -- especially when it is sunny. Cool. Thank you.

Otherwise, I taught at NEC unimpeachably, and have but one more meeting and I'm done for the year, baby. I had the chicken caesar wrap this time, and will probably end my sentence with Buffalo wings -- hey, maybe I can persuade Beff to come along for the ride. (which I doubt, since she will want to be obsessive and clean) Other things to do next week include the Yaddo benefit on Tuesday (anOTHer drive to New York) and writing up the academic administrator's job description for the sake of a search. Oh yeah, and a meeting to vote on the awards we give out at graduation.

Meanwhile, I had my brief meeting with the Dean on Wednesday, and then lunch with the President. Since it was vacation week, the only real restaurant open on campus was the Stein, which became crowded and noisy. The President said the point of the lunch was to make sure I wasn't still wanting to leave Brandeis. I changed the subject. And we talked about pleasant, if mundane, things. He asked to be served four Buffalo wings, but he didn't want the Buffalo sauce (so what he wanted was chicken tenders). I had the chicken rosemary, which was nice, and poured some of "The President's Own" Buffalo wing sauce on my bed of rice. After lunch was Shawna's performance review. And when I saw what I had done, I put it in a campus envelope and went home.

I also had to sign a form for Seungah, who is surprisingly back in this area, and she asked to be added to the long, long, long list of "if you hear of a job can you tell me about it?" people. I actually recommended her for one in Illinois. I also got three more resumes from strangers asking for teaching for next year -- it's up to almost twenty.

This morning I left at 6 am, and got home to Maynard about 9:35 -- construction in Worcester slowed me down a bit. I had to make some small talk with the roofers (I used a 6-point font) and write a check for the remaining work on the roof. I see now (2:50 pm) that they have finished and gone. Cool. Thank you. The Maids came at about 11:45, so I had to clear out of the house, at which point I made more small talk with the roofers ("it only takes 45 minutes for the whole house with five cleaners?"), and drove to the Sit 'n' Bull for a beer. But I changed my mind, and drove straight to Quick Cuts on the corner of Routes 27 and 119 in Acton, and got a haircut, stopped at Donelans and got grapes, blackberries, beer, pickles, and gourmet tomatoes (some dwarf, some yellow/orange ones), and when I got back, the Maids were gone. Meanwhile, I did laundry, including the sheets. And then remembered it was Friday. Here I am, almost eleven!

Geoffy was here for three nights, and we shared two meals -- Tuesday at the Quarterdeck and Wednesday night I made chicken sandwiches. Wednesday was another wind-driven rain event, so Geoff suggested I get some summer beers for dinner -- I got the mandarin hefeweizen and Sea Dog strawberry wheat. Which we consumed with abandon as I put the iPod on the speakers and played through Volumes 2, 3, and 4 of The History of Funk. All the while talking about how great, or emotional, or technically advanced the tracks were. Did I mention the beer? Geoff also kindly brought me some programs from his gigs that included ME. And the cats got used to him pretty quickly (I told him to shake a treat bag and say the word T-R-E-A-T-S as a shortcut to that -- later he experimented with using the word at different speeds, pitch levels, and consonant emphases).

But of course the cats continued to be spooked by the roofers. Much time spend in hiding, mostly under the couch, but sometimes under the bed in the master bedroom.

And I now have a few more percussion instruments in my retinue -- a little bell tree, a ratchet with a crank, and four finger cymbals (which might as well be called "the little cymbals with the big sound"). Musician's Friend online is a great resource for cheap percussion stuff, though unexplainably, it doesn't know what "almglocken" are. Cool. Thank you.

Pictures today include the strange surprise I witnessed when I entered the computer room on Tuesday, that chimney installed, a surreptitious shot of the roofers at work, a shot of where the cats spent the day, the bell tree, a sign encountered on a hike over Summer Hill, the now voluminous rhubarb, and the very beginnings of blossoms on the apple tree.

Missing 5/6/05

MAY Friday the 13th. Breakfast this morning was Morningside Farms meatless sausage patties and coffee. Dinner was lemongrass chicken, Vietnamese hot and sour soup, and various Vietnamese appetizers. Lunch was a grilled salmon sandwich. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 34.0 and 79.5. LARGE EXPENSES this last eight days include parking in NYC, $22 including tip. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Amy playing "No Stranger to Our Planet." POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: Driving back from Boston into New York with Arun -- who had accompanied us to Boston to hear the premiere of Milton Babbitt's Transfigured Notes -- we approached the George Washington Bridge, and instead of singing the William Schuman piece about it (it's hard to do polychords with just three people), we started repeating the phrase "George Washington Bridge, Washington Bridge, Where is the Fridge?" sung to the tune of the Beatles's "Buffalo Bill." With each repeat being in a new, random key. Now every time Beff and I approach it in the car we launch into the same tune. We are, if anything, predictable in this regard. RECOMMENDATION/ PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK 6. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK how to get to FDR Drive. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDRY: What does Thalia mean? RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Pickles, hot and sour soup, real limeade. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS WEEK 1 -- well not destroyed, but discombobulated -- the remote for the computer room air conditioner. INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a glass beaker filled with mucous, a pebble with the New Testament lovingly carved into it, anybody's bald spot, half a dozen of the other.

It will be June before there is another update to this page, so deal with it. On Monday I fly out to the Atlantic Center, Amy D flies out at roughly the same time from NYC, and we land 6 minutes apart. Beff gets there on Saturday, and I get to drive to the airport to pick her up. Fascinating.

So I'm just back from New York, again, and boy are my arms tired. It was a picturesque and sunny ride in, and I used my usual route -- which seems more complicated when you explain it than when you drive it (Great Road west to 495 south to 290 west to 90 west to 84 west to Hartford, catch 15 briefly to 91 south to the Wilbur Cross Parkway which becomes the Merritt Parkway which becomes the Hutchinson Parkway, exit left for Cross County Parkway, take to Saw Mill Parkway south which becomes Henry Hudson Parkway, exit at 95th Street and find parking), and I found parking a half-block from the show -- that is, in a garage. "Take Jazz Chords, Make Strange" was played by the Momenta Quartet with Jean Kopperud on a League-ISCM concert in the Leonard Nimoy Thalia Theater of Symphony Space (say that fourteen thousand times fast), and I took the opportunity to hang with some New Yorkers when not in thrall to the dress rehearsal or to the performance.

So first I had lunch (see above) at a Charley O's bar, grill and bar (that's what the sign actually says), and the $13 salmon sandwich was exquisite, if rather overpriced. Then after walking around a bit, I saw Daron for about an hour and I had a Sam Adams draft while he had tea and Cheese Nips. It was very, very nice to relax with him, as I haven't had that chance in a number of years now, and we talked about, among other things, New Years Eve 1997 -- where we collectively made pizza for the VCCA types. Daron claims he was plastered on that occasion, but my photographic evidence would seem to indicate otherwise. Okay, so then there was my dress rehearsal, and the players were all very, very good. I didn't have to say much, though I did catch myself saying "could that movement be more ... rustic?" By the end of the dress rehearsal, the performance was hair-raising (except for the top of my head, where that isn't exactly possible), and most of that made it into the performance.

After my dress rehearsal, I met Alvin Singleton -- who's been in Brooklyn recently -- for dinner at a fantastic and cheap! Vietnamese restaurant that I'd never heard of -- the Saigon Grill, corner of 90th and Amsterdam. No, not the Saigon Bar and Grill and Bar, just the Saigon Grill (must be old-style pre-Communist cuisine. Isn't Saigon called Ho Chi Minh City now?). I got a nice hot and sour soup and a lemongrass kind of grilled chicken thing that was very big, and only $8.95 -- Alvin got "C1" -- chicken basil -- which looked so good that the person at the next table asked what it was and ran to the waiter to change his order. Seeing as Alvin had roof work done more recently than I have, I paid.

And at this performance thing, I determined that I must have a face that easily contorts into what appears to others to be confusion or desperation. When I saw Lisa Moore for the first time in years, just as I was forming the words "Hey Lisa, how's it going" in my mouth, she said, "Lisa Moore." So instead, I said "I know." This also happened with Margaret Brouwer and Shi-Hui Chen -- Margaret was at the Double Exposure event in November, and I have no memory of her being there. Huh. It then started to occur to me that there's a lot of stuff that happened between November and early March that I simply don't remember. Must be those silly defense mechanisms. But anyway, there were six pieces on the concert and I was last -- crap, no more leaving at intermission to make my long drive home. Every piece had something nice about it, and I guess I liked Shu-Hui's piece best among those that were not by me (yes, almost eleven, I liked mine better, but on the other hand I do know it a lot better). By the way, in order not to embarrass myself again, I said "Hi Eleanor" to Eleanor Corey as she approached when she was still about ten feet away.

So yesterday afternoon a 50-foot high retaining wall collapsed onto the Henry Hudson Parkway, burying some parked cars, and closing the entire roadway -- about two hours after I passed by, so it's not my fault, I SWEAR. But that meant that to drive back I had to figure out an alternate route. I remembered the phrase "Bruckner Expressway" from when Beff and I moved out of New York to Spencer back in 1990, so I started asking people how to get to the Bruckner -- in 1990 in a rental truck, we went uptown to 125th and drove crosstown to the east for what seemed like forever, missed the ramp, turned around (no small feat) and got on it there. And there were as many different answers to how to get there as there were people I asked. Crap. So I took a conflation of Mario's advice and someone elses: 96th across town to FDR Drive north, and start following signs that say "to New England." Which I did, until I got tired of bigass trucks being 80 percent of the traffic, and I exited for the Wilbur Cross Parkway when I could (in Bridgeport, I believe). On the radio (which I blared to stay awake) they kept talking about the collapse on the Hudson Parkway, a fire on a bridge the stopped NJ Transit and Amtrak trains from going between NYC and Newark, and an execution in Connecticut that was mere hours -- no, minutes! -- away. I got home around 2 and next thing I knew Cammy was nuzzling me with that loud purr, it was light, and it was 6:30. Crap. Up I got.

Our quest to consume as many consumables from the fridge as possible before Florida was foiled by a concert at NEC on Tuesday night. Shen Wen was playing three etudes (12, 17, 50) on a "Composers Concert" at NEC. Scott Wheeler also had a very nice piece on this concert, as did other people I didn't know. So Beff and I drove in and parked and ate Japanese at Symphony Sushi (lots of eating out this week, alas). The first half was quite long, and there were pieces whose program notes began with "Alas" and "Perhaps". So we left at intermission -- which was actually rather late in the evening. So Beff and I started drawing up rules for things not to do with program notes, and "Don't begin with "Alas" or "Perhaps". Another note tried pretentiously to explain a piece's idea of continuity, which essentially boiled down to "this is what music is." So now here are three simple rules: don't begin with "Alas"; don't begin with "Perhaps"; and don't begin by defining music. Any other helpful suggestions from readers out there may be collected into an actual page on this website.

And that's a big oh wow. We had Carolyn Davies over for beer and seafood (yet another restaurant visit), and it was the most substantial conversation of the week. Not that the bar is set really high here. This morning Carolyn mentioned something about last week's post here, and I had presumed she'd stay away after asking what the audience for it was. I hope she's not hooked. Because "almost eleven" is a lot funnier than "almost twelve." Plus, it rhymes with "seven" and "heaven."

Them what make have been telling us it's not too hot here, so Florida and the 80s -- well, that seems cool. Or warm, actually. Thank you. As reported here before, Wednesday was to be 80, and then it was revised by them what make downward to 66, then to 72. The actual high temperature: 80. The weekend was the icky rain we've all come to know and laugh about, and during the quite warm bit, Beff finally got on the bicycle train (to mix metaphors) -- we did the short ride on Tuesday, and Boon Lake on Wednesday. Yep, Max was out waiting for a bone. We saw another nice house on Boon Lake, this one with plenty of indoor space, on the market, and looked it up. I predicted three quarters of a mil (I often speak colloquially), and was actually a little low. Wow, 2200 square feet and 160 feet of lake frontage. Priced for people who can only afford it if they work so much they're never home to enjoy it. But am I bitter? Lick me and find out.

Beff is in Vermont, or driving back from Vermont as I type this. She is NOT going to the Atlantic Center at the same time as me because she has to make an appearance at Maine All-State. So she's coming Saturday night, and I'll have to drive to the Orlando Airport to pick up her. Then fun things will begin to happen. Meanwhile, our Thankyou rewards cards came, and it's three credit-card sized Staples gift cards for $100, $100 and $50, each of which has imprinted on it "Use Like Cash." Ciao, ragazzo.

And besides all of that. I now have to mow all the lawns, even though it's scruffy in front (kind of like me in person). For you see, we will soon have housesitters and we don't want to make them do our yard work for us. By the way, we bought two baby rosemary plants and planted them a few days ago where the hosta used to be next to the garage. Time will tell (insert whatever you wish here). Ken and Hillary come for pizza dinner on Sunday evening, as they are the OTHER housesitters. What fun we will have in a one-horse open sleigh. Oh!

Fluoxetine hydrochloride dosage is now halved. I asked the doc to ramp it down before we go cold turkey, since I got pretty good advice on what happens when you try to go cold turkey on such things (a hand with an extended thumb pointing and gesturing downwards was part of the demonstration). Meanwhile, all the other pills are still on the docket.

My drivers license expires on my birthday, which is June 13. I got something from the Mass DMV with a form in it saying "don't mail the form. Take it to an RMV office", which for me means the half hour drive to the tedious part of Framingham (it is splitting hairs to say one part is more tedious than another, but what are you gonna do?), getting a number and waiting a long time while numbers not in sequence are called out. I got my number, and saw someone surrendering his license, having a picture taken, being given a temporary license and being told the new one would arrive in a week. So I thought about trying to board a plane for Florida with a temporary license without a picture that might expire while I was there, and decided to give it up -- at which point the magic phrase "OR YOU CAN RENEW YOUR LICENSE ONLINE" leaped out at me from the literature the RMV had already sent me. Stoopid, stoopid, stoopid. So I bought big Berkshire Beers (say that five times fast) and brought some to the Acting Chair and some to She What Runs Everything And What It Is Too. And I don't mean Elaine Wong. I hardly ever do.

And there we have it. Many new pictures taken on the new Sony Cybershot T-1, as it fits in my shirt pocket and all that. Beff even used it to make some movies for her current video project -- including the soup aisle at Shaws. No panning in that one, just sort of a shaky still picture, as it were. Plus, Beff got myriad movies of some oranges I got for her at Trader Joe's. First, in the bag, with Cammy being curious and sniffing them, then with me rolling oranges along the dining room table -- again, with Cammy going after them. I think if the camera captured our laughing we'd have enough for a laugh track for a half hour sitcom. We then realized that Beff's camera could also take full-resolution -- if compressed -- movies. So, people will be used, dogs and cats sleeping together, etc. When Beff said she wanted a movie of soup, I asked if she needed me to roll soup cans, too.

Oh yeah -- Sharon Bielik's recital at Brandeis Saturday night. Even though she did Reger, she was fantastic. A full recital and only three clams that I counted, and they were all in the Bach. They also did the Brahms F minor, which is better on clarinet. Trust me.

Lots of pictures this week, since I'll be away from this space for some time. The T-1 has a fantastic closeup mode in which you can get really, really close to something and the focus is nearly instantaneous (on the Coolpix 4500 often it takes 5 seconds for the focus, which is then on a distant object instead of a close one), and I took myriad shots. So we see closeups of apple blossoms and a dandelion seed thingie to start. Then we see the two cats together, first in the attic, and then in the pantry window. We then have our people pictures: Mike Gandolfi in Jordan Hall, Hayes in the Thalia Theater, Alvin in the Saigon Grill, and a picture of me taken by Daronius. Then we see yet another shot of the copper highlighting the roof (this time from the back yard) and a picture of the stage at the Thalia Theater -- you can tell it's used a lot for movie screenings. Finally, extreme closeups of some geegaws from the kitchen window: a Pez dispenser and a teeny little plastic cat that you are supposed to shoot out of a little plastic gun (which big Mike gave me).