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

SANDSTORM!

I hired a professional redacter to do some work on this page, because the dacter I originally hired didn't finish the job -- though it was nice that at his office, his secretary said, "the dacter will see you now". Same thing happened, by the way, with the guy who fries the beans at the Mexican restaurant. But anyway, xxxx x xxxx x xxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxx. Xxxxx x xxx xxxxx xxxx xxxxx xxxxxx, Xxxxx xxxxxx, Xxxx, xxx Xxxxxxx. On Thursday, it got to 57 degrees, and X xxx xxxxxxxx xxxx XXXX xxxxxx: xxxx xxxxxx, Xxxxx, Xxxxxx, xxx Xxxxx Xxxxxx (Xxxx xx xxx Xxxxxx). X xxx x xxxx xxxxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx Xxxxxx Xxxxxx, Amy D, her SO Marc (see "Deceptively Simple" on the web), and David Smooke (who thinks I should misspell his name Szmuk (in the authentic original spelling) to become a double-fiver; but it occurs to me that a David named Szmuk would be a Davide and not a David. Hmm). Xxxxxx xxxx x xxx xxxxxx xxxxx.

SANDSTORM!

Xxxxxx x xxxxx xxxxxx xxx xx xxxxx xxx xxxxxxx xxxx xxxxxx xxxx. Xxx xxxx xxxxx xxxx x xx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx! Xx xxx xxxxxxxxx xxx xx x xxxxx xxx xxxx xxxxx xxxx. It was good to see Amy xxx xxxxxx xx xxxxxxx. Xxxxxxxx, Joe Francavilla came and got me -- Stacy was getting back from MacDowell on the same day. On top of that all, rain had changed to sleet, and the roads were a little treacherous -- which didn't faze (phase?) Joe and his Corolla. We picked up Stacy on the way back, I saw their new apartment, and we went out to an Irish pub xx Xxxxxxxxx. When we got back, Stacy showed some of her closeup photos, especially of one leaf, from MacDowell (I seem to have been the one who turned her on to the closeup shots), and we were all tired and went to bed. The next morning Joe drove me to the airport, and that was preceded by an amazing procedure of getting the rain, sleet, freezing rain, and snow off the car (I rule). My plane got off on time, and the pilot helpfully told us that there were big winds in Boston and the landing would be bumpy. Sigh. We took the approach from the due north, going right over the coastline, and every roller coaster-like movement produced squeals of delight from a toddler behind me that has yet to learn to hate to fly.

Upon my return, I was amazed to see that it was 60 degrees (normal high: 35), quite windy, and all traces of snow were, again, gone. Beff and I didn't feel like cooking (as in, I didn't feel like cooking), so we walked in the high winds (take 2) to the Quarterdeck. In front of the NAPA Auto Parts store we encountered a gust that practically lifted me off my feet, and pelted us with the winter's sand from the sanding trucks. SANDSTORM! Just like that Hercules movie that was on MST 3K, except we got to have seafood at the end of it. Beff got bluefish and I got Scottish fish and chips. So there. This morning after breakfast, we took out usual long walk to the Assabet trail, passing by the Ben Smith Dam, and back. As I type this, Beff is on her way back to Maine for her teaching week, I have just resolved two of the fall's incompletes (except for finding the form for that), and am now plotting and planning for the future of me'all's writing.

This week there is a meeting with the anaesthesiologist for my operation (I don't think I'll get a "the dacter will see you now" -- though it might come out that way if I were still in Chicago), and a day or two spent in Bangor, as Beff's faculty group is doing an all-Mozart concert. Weather permitting, of course. On Tuesday and for the following four academic Tuesdays I have to go into Brandeis despite my on leave status.

As I was typing this, weather bug chimed in with a "winter storm watch", possibility of 4-7 inches of snow tonight and tomorrow. Poop.

JANUARY 29. Breakfast this morning was orange juice and coffee, in Bangor. Dinner was a pizza at Pat's pizza with pepperoni, spinach, tomatoes, and "zesty olives". Lunch was the blackened chicken wrap at Sea Dog in Bangor. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 15.4 and 51.8. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS some of the wedding music from The Marriage of Figaro. LARGE EXPENSES this last eight days are office supplies at Staples, $34, but only $4 after coupon, and supplies at BJ's, $69. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: four of us -- Beff, Ross, Don Swin and I decided to form the Griffin Music Ensemble over a meal at the IHOP in Brookline -- there should be a placque or something commemmorating this. "The IHOP Ensemble" was the working name for the group until we realized a Griffin would be a cool logo. A local college with a Griffin statue somewheres would gladly have charged us hundreds of dollars for the privilege of posing with it. Soon we added John Watrous, Jessica Locke, and Allen Anderson, two-thirds of whom now fall squarely into the "whatever happened to?" file. Ross's habit of arriving late (which I knew well from Tanglewood) caused us to tell him meeting times that were half an hour earlier than we actually expected to meet. So yep, those 8 pm meetings started on time, with Ross's arrival usually around 7:55. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are none. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: how come there is strange flavor chicken but no strange flavor pop tart? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: curp. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF this last eight days is violent shifts in weather -- weary and fascinated both. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Mezzetta antipastos. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK Bangor has less snow than Maynard. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 5.6. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none, though some suspicious rooting around the pantry cupboards is suspected. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 6. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 7 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: I get a royalty every time someone clears his or her throat. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Moira. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Hey there. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,312. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: Of the things that I can handle None of 'em's worth a candle. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.35 in Acton, coupled with a $7 car wash, $2.41 in Orono, and $2.31 in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE a full-scale replica of the Empire State Building, the spit that collects when you play a brass instrument, three of those old-style pink foam curlers, a letter opener made of brass but coated with silver.

I start typing on Friday, with an intent to post on Sunday. More as it develops. It has not been an eventful week, nor has it been an eventless one. So I'm adding to the ennui factor by doing my biyearly thing where I pretend to take a stand on various controversial issues. People who like to stay awake are invited to skip to the next paragraph. Alito: qualified. Gay marriage: for. Roe v. Wade: for. George W. Bush: worst president in my lifetime, or anyone's. Republican Massachusetts governors: all of them mediocrities. The Democratic party: in the words of Mark Twain, not an organized political party. NRA wiretapping without warrant: impeachable. Plamegate: not enough information. Affirmative action: for. Abramoff: lousy skunk gave $50 to his alma mater in his lifetime. Minimalism and post-minimalism: growing on me. Serialist hegemony: historical revisionism. Greatest pop song ever written: I Want You Back. Runners up: Peg, Borderline, I Want You to Know, God is a DJ. Worst pop song ever written: Macarena. Runners up: Lollipop, Mambo No. 5, Popcorn, Rock Me Amadeus, I Always Feel Like Somebody's Watching Me. Winner of 2000 election: Gore.

Last week's update ended with a note that Weather Bug was chirping in with a winter storm watch, and shonuff, Monday's feature was a storm of snow -- known more colloquially and locally as a "snowstorm". Or schneesturm (which sounds like a sneeze). The total for that storm was about eight inches of heavy, wet stuff, and so that turned this winter into a two-snowblower winter (last winter was a five-snowblower winter, so we have some time yet). This was the first storm (that we were here) wherein there was enough snow, and enough stickin' together, that the sliding off the roof thing was dramatic, each and every time it happened. For those who haven't witnessed that (which is all of you), it's a five-second rumble followed by two seconds of whoomph, capped off by a big whump. It is comical to see the cats' reaction to each one: sitting at attention, looking straight ahead, wide-eyed, while that ears go forward, then back. Then there is the look of panic, and, given the attention span, almost immediate return to the sleeping position.

So I did use the snowblower to clear the driveway and walks, which has given me some nice residual pain in my left arm all week. That means I must brace it against me or something, because that arm also has the lever for forward motion. In any case, the coming Tuesday is showing signs of another possible heavy snow. Oh, lawdy, I hate it when that happens. In any case -- there was also time spent on Wednesday on the flat roof over the sun porch shoveling the snow off. I have gotten into that habit, once all the snow that will falls off the roof into its designated areas.

A blast from the past plays as I type this -- Gerry Itzkoff, who premiered HYPERBLUE way back when (1993), who was the soloist in the only public performance ever of my complete violin concerto, who played in the Griffin ensemble, and who migrated to the Cincinnati Orchestra, sent -- out of the blue, as we haven't been in contact for more than ten years -- a new CD of his of "20th Century Romantic Sonatas". Busoni plays as I type, and it sounds excellent. Another reminder of Boston's loss, and Cincinnati's gain.

And speaking of blasts from the past, Collage is doing my Dances in the Dark on its Monday evening concert, at Longy. An old problem with that surfaced: when it was done at Mannes a few years ago, I got an e-mail from the director (a double-fiver) saying that the cello part for the fourth movement was missing. Probably my bad. I got that e-mail again this time, so I made a point to reprint a cello part, including the last movement (page numbered 42 instead of 8), and -- get this -- got my first official use of the new paper cutter that cuts up to 15 inches! As I had to cut an 11x17 printout down to 11x14. I rocked, I ruled, and I grinned. Just a little. And then I disappeared, except for the grin. Then the literary police pooh poohed my plagiaristic side.

As the gentle regular reader knows, I go under the knife, and even get a little mesh added to me, on Thursday. I do not yet know at what time I am scheduled, but I did have to report to the Faulkner Hospital in Jamaica Plain last Thursday for an anaesthesia consult. So on Wednesday I dress-rehearsed the drive. Why? Because my appointment was for first thing in the morning and I didn't want to be looking at a poorly-drawn map during rush hour and losing my way. After my dress rehearsal I stopped at BJs specifically for big jars of hamburger dill picklage and fat free cheese slices, to which I added Roma tomatoes, Claritin (for Beff), a 50-lb. bag of cat litter (Beff's least favorite size), and whatever else I felt like. I also got bread and butter pickles for one of the ka-ching twins, which will be delivered when they are delivered.

So I did my Thursday morning anaesthesia consult, and because I hate being late (and I hate even more people who are late when I am on time) -- I would rather be an hour early than five minutes late -- I left at a time such as I was there, yep, more than an hour early. I walked a mile down Centre Street for the exercise and -- guess what? -- I walked back! What a boring neighborhood! Then I followed directions to get to where I had to get, most of which turned out to wrong. The first room I was sent sent me to another room, for signing in and/or registering -- where you fill out a form and stick it in a slot, someone comes out and grabs the next slotted form, and does the checking in. It occurred to me that this was one of the least efficient ways ever devised for this sort of thing, but hey, at least I got to watch a heartwarming story on Good Morning America while at least three interview people who obviously hate their jobs had their way with us. After my interview, I got sent to the first room where I was sent, which was, this time, the right room (as well as the third room). And my interview was over before it was scheduled to begin (I like to have my way with space and time). Dadburn it, all of the interview could have just as efficiently been done over the phone, but then my almost proud moment happened: the blood pressure reading. I have, for five years, been on hypertension medicine (two of them, actually), and it's usually pretty high when the readings are taken. Getting it "down" to 125/100 has been considered a success. But here the pressure taken was, inexplicably, 104/70, by far the lowest reading I ever got. Pretty obviously, I am not the Chair of my department.

And speaking of my department, my Tuesday was spent at the department in the first of our five interviews of the finalists for the untenured composer job. You won't get names or any particulars here, except where we went for dinner, perhaps, and other really dull tidbits. I was called in at the last minute to beef up the numbers for lunch with the candidate, and there ended up being 13 for a reservation for 9. So I'm not going to respond to any more plaintive e-mails of that sort. While at Brandeis, I participated in the bureaucracyfest that is changing a grade -- and I had two incompletes to resolve. That involved filling out a form that included the student's ID number (I had to search high and wide online for those), and justifying the grade change ("uh, like, the rest of the work was submitted and graded"). I did that by using my laptop, connected to the newly wireless Slosberg building, and that was empowering. Since I have no office, though, I had to carry the laptop with me everywhere. I hate it when that happens. And anyway, we went to the Tuscan Grill for dinner, which was quite empowering, or at least enfattening. The special was Bambi's mom, but I didn't get that. Eric Chasalow selected the wine. Eric Hill, the Theater Chair, came to the colloquium and dinner, so it was good to see him fully functioning within this search -- I told him I would give him a printout of all the music I composed for the Bacchae, and I printed one out, and I needed a 3/4 inch binding coil to hold it. Oh, lawdy. I love being the heavy, and all that connotes.

As I type this, I have just returned from spending the first portion of the weekend in Bangor. Well, that, and the eight hours of driving associated with getting there and back. I left Maynard before 7 on Saturday, brought some various things to Beff, and because yet more unseasonable warmth made it all the way up there, we took a walk around downtown before settling in at the Sea Dog restaurant for some hardy fare (which was hardly fair). Or is that hearty fare? After some hangin' out, there was another sizable walk into parts of the city I hadn't seen before, then a drive to the University, where Beff's faculty group was giving a Mozart's birthday concert (how predictable). The concert itself was well-attended and well-played, and it was interesting to hear some of Mozart's "epistle sonatas" for the first time, for organ, violin and flute. There was also a cello and piano fragment rescued from the Mozarteum and "filled in" by someone, and it was pretty much crap -- except for an interesting resolution of a Neapolitan. But the concert ended with the Kagelstatt Trio, which was sublime, worth wading through all the other stuff -- which, by the way, included one of those concert arias, this one with an Erwartung-like leap in it near the end. (Soozie said that leap is not that hard -- it's the tessitura of most of the rest of the song that is hard)

And this morning, after lounging about in my new maroon-colored bathrobe that Beff got for me mail-order, I drove back, talked a bit to Soozie on the cell phone, and settled back. Since Beff is catless this weekend, she has requested cat photos for this edition, which is fine with me -- I hadn't taken any photos all week, and boy are my arms tired (actually, they are -- still -- thanks to the shovelfest). So what we have is Great Road, our house, at 1:30 today; followed by five catpix that should be self-explanatory, as in, they explain themselves.

Just one more thing: I got a CD and DVD of Danielle Ingram's recital from last November -- in which she premiered the 63rd etude -- and it was very good. Also in arrivo, the first edit from Soozie and Don Berman's recording of For Wittgenstein for that gonzo American Academy in Rome recording thing. Again, kuhl.

Since last week I did a year in review rather than anything about VCCA where I had spent 3 weeks, the VCCA pictures are now here for your perusal. Also see "VCCA train" QuickTime movie in yellow text, above, which goes very close to the VCCA grounds. But first, here's my new letterhead, which is the first time my e-mail address has appeared anywhere on this site (I hate e-mail phishers).

FEBRUARY 6. Breakfast this morning was orange juice. Lunch was a salad with some Japanese soy dressing. Dinner last night was nonexistent. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 26.2 and 55.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Black Velvet, by Alannah Myles. LARGE EXPENSES this last eight days are various at Amazon, $300. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I took two organ lessons when I was in high school. We did have a little Hammond-type organ at home, but I practiced on the organ in the Congregational Church when I could find time. I had to buy special organ shoes (I used them for some while after -- they made me taller), and for the first time in quite a while, I had to practice. I was assigned a little F major prelude and fugue of Bach, and did make it to the point where I could kind of play the entrance of the theme in the pedals (which had plenty of neighbor note sixteenths). When I got frustrated, I pulled out all the stops and played Joy to the World with feet planted on the low D. It was about that that the pastor would compliment me as I left the church for home. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are Faulkner Hospital, but only a little itty-bit. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are probably Faulkner Hospital. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: Is it coincidental that "scar" and "scare" begin with the same four letters? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: ploost. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF the prostrate position. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: salad. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK why stool softener may be essential. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 8. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances page, Reviews 3. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 3. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 13 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: the words "Uptown" and "Downtown" to describe music simply vanish (*poof*) into the ether. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: software10@virfilio.it. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Software Award! PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,332. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: Days like this I don't know what to do with myself all day and all night.. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.33 at Cumberland Farms in Maynard. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the seven seas, draconian measures, a bag of peat moss, seventeen different excuses for being late.

Last week, I put two thirds of the"other" of Griffin in the "whatever happened to" file. By coincidence or fate, half of that two-thirds got in touch to catch up. Jessica, who was the group's singer and so much more, now is a filmcomposer (one word), still living in Watertown, winning awards, and has recently spent time with one of the hardest-hit fire companies from 9/11 and has written a memorial for them. But that beautiful voice is apparently going to waste. As to the other third, I actually know something about him second hand, but he is still a mystery.

Monday was a day of some driving. I drove to Alewife in the morning to catch a noon dress rehearsal of Collage doing my Dances in the Dark -- the lot was full, so I had to go to this other area at the end, and I was directed into place by some shifty types. The rehearsal was good, I was able to adjust some tempi and say hi to Bob Annis and Chris Oldfather, and make it back while it was still just a little spritzy. Then I was on my way to Alewife again in the dark at a quarter after six, and it was very hard to see with the spritzing, and the predictions of sleet and freezing rain screaming at me from the radio -- so I took the commuter rail instead, made it in plenty of time to see the concert, and it was a good one. Jim Ricci and Ken and Hillary and John McDonald were there, among others, and my piece came off rather well. There was also a Schuller piece that was about 75 percent solo cadenza that the critic led with. I only got to stay a few minutes at the reception, since I had to make it to a train going back, so I didn't get to see everyone I could have. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

On Tuesday, the second candidate for the Brandeis job went through the ringer on a day which, as of three days earlier, was going to feature up to a foot of snow, according to them what make. The classic front pinwheels around a stationary low over the Great Lakes and a new storm forms in the ocean thing. Classic! Classic! What happened instead was a bit of freezing rain Monday night, a day of rain on Tuesday, and an inch of snow at the tail end. This made it icky outside, however, so the interview featured mostly indoor stuff. Early in the morning, I went out in my nice new maroon bathrobe to retrieve the paper, didn't realize the rain was freezing rain, slipped on the first step, and slipped on all the others on my way to the final one. Just some bumps and a small scab on my right hand, but I was more careful coming back in. Concrete steps are fairly solid. I made it in in time for some of the lunch with candidate, and also took said candidate to meet the Dean, where I waited while resolving another incomplete (they just kept comin' this term, I swear). Dinner was at the Ariana Restaurant in Newton -- described by Eric Chasalow as really close and really easy to find, and it was neither. Eric Hill was going to meet us there, but couldn't find it (I will suggest that the remaining dinners happen on Moody Street, which at least we all know). The food was awfully good, however. I had orecchiette pasta with chicken sausage, and it was surprisingly the first time I had seen the word "orecchiette" -- little ears. More like little bowls, mind you.

And Thursday was the big day. Beff had arrived from Maine at 12:45 am ready for it, and we got up about a quarter after six. My arrival time was to be 8:45, and of course I hate arrival times square in the middle of rush hour and in the direction of rush hour. We actually got there maybe a half hour early, so we walked on Center Street in toward the city, taking every possible opportunity to disparage the neighborhood -- though the Arboretum was certainly a nice thing to have there. But no convenience stores or coffee shops or anything where you can trade currency for goods and services. We did pass the Italian Home for children, though -- none of whom can go out for a walk and get a cup of coffee, can they?

So the procedures were much as expected. I filled out paperwork, changed into hospital garb, and was assigned a bed in a holding pen, where Beff joined me. We tried to keep some conversation going so as to drown out the conversations about bad health from others in the holding pen -- and then came the parade. Everyone involved, or peripherally involved, in the operation came, introduced themselves, asked me the spelling of my name, my birth date, and what procedure I was having, picked up my data book, and signed something. Every other one had some papers for me to sign, and my favorite was from the anaesthesiologist: "oh, it's just the standard stuff -- you acknowledge that anaesthesia can cause heart and liver problems, cracked teeth, nausea, death, blah blah blah, you know, the works. Sign here." One doctor or resident with a thick foreign British accent did the spiel, and I looked at Beff and said, "Shazam? His name is .. Shazam?" Everyone, of course, wanted to comment on me being a music teacher, and one woman ventured some Ethel Merman (others noted that she would).

My IV was to be inserted by a third-year medical student, and apparently he was a virgin at this. The rubber tube thing happened to enlarge the vein, there was a bunch of tapping, and while the nurse watched, I felt prick, prick, prick ("no, a little more of an angle"), prick, OW!, prick, prick, "There!". Then the IV started and the nurse called it "breakfast". I said "mmm, sausage" and she added, "yes, and antibiotics". You could see both me and Beff straining for a joke here, but it just didn't happen. I felt the cold sensation as the IV started, and carried it with me to the bathroom once. How very civil.

So in all that context, I was wheeled, eyeless (had to take out the contact lenses) into the operating room, Ethel Merman was singing away, and an anaesthesiologist said to take four deep breaths. Naturally, I remember taking three. Later, I awoke in squalor, or a dark corner of the waiting area, received a few visits from medical types, was moved to a more comfy area, and changed back into civilian clothes. A nurse rolled her eyes and said, "Oh, it was Ferzoco. He likes his patients to urinate before they leave" and I thought -- it had been 18 hours -- doctor's orders -- since I'd eaten or drunk anything and I have to pee now? Well, I tried, and there was "not enough to measure". But I got to go anyway. The trip home was routine and Beff's dirving exemplary, and I was settled with an ice bag into our bed. I was extremely parched, so Beff delivered some lemonade and I drank the whole glass, then another half glass of it.

What I didn't know -- because the last time I had this operation I didn't have the knock-out anaesthesia -- was that, um, eliminating liquid refreshment would be slow and gradual, even though I felt at all times like I really had to. So that first afternoon of relaxing and getting rest from the operation -- at least half the time spent in the smallest room of my house. Finally things normalized a bit, I set myself up on the rocking reclining chair in the living room with a blanket and the cats loved that area. We watched some TV, but I remember not what. Finally I did a bunch of e-mail, since sitting was a better deal than lying down with an ice pack. And Thursday night featured a little bit of sleep.

Friday was better, more lying down, and eating began anew. At night we watched Galaxy Quest, a silly movie done right, and left the lights on for Geoffy, who was in town for more BMV rehearsals. On Saturday, the ka-ching twins came by with some sophisticated lunch like objects (as in: food), so we talked and ate and talked and ate, and Mike had some good jokes, and Carolyn went to a belt sander racing tournament. Geoff went to another rehearsal, and when he got back we did Domino's and watched the movie "Funny Bones", which started our whole Raymond Scott craze in the first place. Yesterday was a day of email and naps, then watching the first half of the Super Bowl, then going to bed.

Meanwhile, I had understood that I was to take 1 stool softener pill per day because of the binding properties of the painkillers. I looked at the label again this morning and noted that I was supposed to take 4 per day. I won't describe why it was really, really good to find that out. Meanwhile, today there was some orange juice, a nap, some e-mail, a nap, Maynard Door and Window replacing the computer room window, at which time I started the Celesta etude, and then a 3-hour nap. Boy, this convalescing thing is tiring. And tomorrow I have to go in for another job candidate interview, and since I can't drive until Friday, I have to get a cab. Oh joy. This morning Beff called and said she needed the tape part to "This is Why She Had to Quit Her Band," which was in the bedroom here, so I used iTunes to make an mp3 and I e-mailed it to her. When I inserted the CD, iTunes thought I had inserted a CD called "Holy Wars" -- so I went with it.

Meanwhile, I got a CD from Curt of Speculum's December performance of Inside Story. It rocks, and the story is not pretty. And with all the napping and stuff, I doubt I will make the 6-day limit on the etude -- but hey, for the first time, this one has phasing. More like microcanons, but phasing is so retro it sounds cool to say it that way. And now I'm ready for another nap.

And the weather continued its warm ways. There were TWO rainstorms during the Early Convalescence, and the second one caused some liquid to get into the basement. The snow is now mostly gone. But it is now colder and we are promised at least two weeks of more winter like temperatures. Don't you hate it when that happens?

There is a new movie taken this morning: I started a movie and let the camera dangle because Cammy was in Nuzzle Mode. See it in yellow text up on the left. Other pictures include two of Sunny in the new convalescing area, the second one on me; then Saturday's festivities people, and the spread we demolished; then the cats looking outside on Friday, Sunny on me, and the backyard with the snow gone as of this morning.

FEBRUARY 14. Breakfast this morning was orange juice. Lunch was hot dogs. Dinner was Chunky Chicken Soup and salad. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 10.4 and 37.2. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Sara, by me. LARGE EXPENSES this last eight days are none. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: I played the Arthur Pryor Variations on Blue Bells of Scotland with my high school band. It occurs to me that would have been the same concert as my first premiere ever, me conducting my own piece and the third clarinetists were all drunk. In any case, some dude instigated a standing ovation after the Blue Bells, and that may be the only one I've ever gotten. My only distinction in that performance was that I added a few notes in the cadenza, popping out a high E -- which I now know was a leading tone that I failed to resolve in register. Bad Davy. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are Trader Joe's, for having a nifty hefeweizen that's cheap. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How many words end with "kin"? Here's your starter set: pumpkin, bodkin. THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: lurat. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF is binary descriptions of the field of music, such as Uptown/Downtown. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: salad. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK little by little, the scar from the operation. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 6. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances page, Bio. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none, but plenty of cupboard doors left open and books knocked off of nightstands. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 1. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 19 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: balding is sexy. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: dblagntm. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Do you want women to have you in their sexual fantasies? PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,393. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: No apologies. I guess they buy you time till you next step out of line. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.25 across from City Hall. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the continental drift, beer that has gone flat, waltz tempo, a pile of used computer parts.

This week, dull as it was, has a few things to report. As usual, I had to go in to BrandX on Tuesday for an interview, and since I was prohibited from driving by the doctor, I took a cab. Maynard-Acton Taxi seems to be sufficiently marginal that they don't say "Maynard Acton Taxi" when they answer the phone, and I got the impression that the driver popped on over from another day job of some sort. And he wanted to talk about restaurants. The post-festivities dinner was at Tom Can Cook in downtown Waltham, and since I was still bandaged and all, I wasn't in the mood to eat much. I ordered vegetable tempura, and a giant plate of artery-clogging breading material came to me, allegedly with a few vegetables inside. Note to self: avoid tempura at Tom Can Cook. Josh gave me a ride home afterwards, as I am practically on his way home.

After all of that, Wednesday was pretty much a rest and recuperation day spent in the reclining chair under a blanket. How spaced out was I? I watched all of a Leonard Nimoy-narrated program on the location of the Ark of the Covenant without changing channels. Cold weather has come back, so there wasn't much in the way of outdoor activities, though I did go out once, while the ground was still bare, to move branches that had dropped in the January windstorms into the discard piles. And there were quite a few. But more vigorous activity -- including driving -- didn't happen until after Beff got in Thursday night. Actually, she got in early enough that I could cook, and it was salmon burgers, baby, done on the grill outside.

Friday was my post-op appointment with my surgeon, and all was well. Beff had gotten me some deluxe big bandages to use, which the surgeon marveled at (he actually called them "deluxe"), and he gave permission to stop using them (especially as they were beginning to itch). Little bits of tape left there are going to fall off of their own accord (some have), and otherwise I was given the green light for everything except heavy lifting. So I drove us to Trader Joe's in Framingham, where we got a lot of nice things. TJ's now has a range of boutique beer flavors, and their hefeweizen is quite good, and so cheap. I also got some chips that are neither baked nor fried, and it turns out they're not tasty, either. For dinner on Friday we thought we'd try a new restaurant that's just opened in Acton -- Not Your Average Joe's. We were next to a large table with twelve women and one man (likely an office party), and they got elevated pizza. Moi, I got the salmon with sundried tomato paste and it was good. That restaurant seems like it will be on our list.

We had spent the afternoon Friday finishing the tallying of our deductions for tax purposes. And that was a big, big job. Unexplainably, we could not find the March and April bank statements, alas. But I can now tell you the final cost of rewiring, and of roof work, and of door and window work. But I won't.

By Saturday, dire warnings of a Noreaster were piling up, so Beff decided to go back Mainewards on Saturday instead of Sunday. So we embarked on my first significant exercise since the operation -- a morning walk downtown with the expressed purpose of getting toothpaste, out of which we had run. There was beautiful icy formations by the river, so I packed up my camera and took some closeups (I'm a sucker for funny icy formations). Not so oddly, after Beff embarked, I pretty much spent the time asleep.

Earlier in the week I had received an e-mail from Adam Marks, a 2000 Brandeis graduate who was in the first theory class I taught at Brandeis. On Halloween that year, he and Eve Crevoshay came to class dressed as Adam and Eve (which is their names), and part of the costume was a big pile of leaves. We could have raked in Room 215 that day. Adam came to Amy's 2002 New York recital and dug the etudes enough to solicit scores. He eventually premiered Madam I'm Adam (for vanity reasons, apparently), did Fists of Fury for the Yaddo benefit in New York last May, and recently premiered Absofunkinlutely last fall. I still have not heard it.

So Adam entered the Orleans International Piano Competition in France, which happened last week. Among the many prizes offered are a composition award from the Chevillion-Bonaud Foundation for the piece played in the first round that the judges think is best. Or niftiest, or coolest. Adam entered Absofunkinlutely for that award, and it won, which enriches me by 4600 Euros (around $5500 last time I checked). Adam, meanwhile, made it into the second round, but says he screwed up in the second round and emerged without a prize. It's weird that I emerged with one. So the Orleans people e-mailed me for account information, which I had to get from Bank of America -- whoo daddy they've got a complicated series of things to go through to talk to an actual person. I now know BofA's routing number, and EVERYTHING. And any reader who wants to look at the Orleans info can see their webpage, www.oci-piano.com. I join Ken Hesketh and Unsuk Chin as winners of that award, incidentally.

Sunday was the Day of the Storm, and we were lucky to be in a dry spot of it for about two hours. The storm was strong enough to have an eye when viewed on satellite images, and it was New York City's biggest snow producer ever. Here we got about 14 inches, and it was a test of the snow removal people that Maynard Door and Window use (and that we hired). After the first five inches, a shoveler and a plower came, did the nasty, and returned at about 10 at night. Alas, they did not completely do the top of the driveway where we need the space to turn around, so yesterday morning I took out the snowblower and finished the job. Since the snowblower is self-locomoting, the only exertion on my part was the hands holding the blowing and locomotion levers down. So now it's a THREE snowblower winter.

Yesterday was also the day the music I wrote for the Brandeis producion of The Bacchae was getting recorded, and Bob Schultz and the Lyds were there for a 10 to 2 block. J. Hagenbuckle, who took Music 5 with me, was The Man, and he set up two close mikes and got a feed from the hanging mikes for the best mix. The mix was essential, if you've ever tried to balance timpani and a string quartet, after all. Having vastly increased the potential repertoire of string quartet and timpani music, I feel no need to do so again. So the nine cues with timpani got into the can splendidly, and I had to turn pages for one of them. My bad. The other 26 went nicely, too, though at one point one of the quartet said the music was "terse". Well, it's the the-ah-tah, isn't it? Things were done by 1:30, so there.

And another day (Sunday) was spent on the etude with optional celesta. It's actually better than it seems, though the title thing is going to be hard again. I have ruled out celesta puns, so Celesta The Mohicans is out of the running. It occured to me that the etude is really about figuration in the hands done in canon separated by a sixteenth note -- very much like what Martler and I used to (and probably still do) like to do with the figuration from Tubular Bells (the Exorcist music) -- play it as fast as possible and then try to do it in canon separated by one note. So if anyone is ruling here -- it is I. Martler is the Crown Prince.

And tomorrow I begin a three-day New York sojourn. TJCMS is done on Double Exposure, and I already know the clarinetist lost at least one rehearsal to the blizzard -- being that he was in Arizona and unable to get in. While there I will see Jonathan to get our taxes done, will see Danny for beer and Harold for lunch, will be staying with Jay and Marilyn, and will do whatever else has to get done. At the same time as the Double Exposure show, Beff is playing a concert at Del's school, so she will be getting back late here, and the cats will be glad to see her. And NEXT week is Brandeis vacation, which, nonetheless, features for me a dissertation defense. I plan to come out a-swingin'. Or not.

And I finally got to hear Jim Goldsworthy's recording of "Sara", which I copped from Hayes, who has it because he is writing the liner notes. It is a pretty piece, and Jim takes it faster than the tempos I indicated -- which is probably the right thing to do. I remember that Amy and Rick Moody were in on the composition of it -- Amy chose the first two notes, and Rick the second chord (he suggested B-A-D because of the way he felt at the moment, and I sharped the D).

This week's pictures begin with Terrace Kitties, followed by a nifty new snow cap for an ornamental bit of the house after the storm. Then there are three of the ice formation pictures and three pictures from the Bacchae recording session. Nothing else is new. And not even any ka-chings for the Ka-Ching Twins.

FEBRUARY 21. Breakfast this morning was orange juice and Boca meatless sausages with melted 2% cheese. Dinner was Chunky Chicken Noodle Soup. Lunch was two hot dogs with inlaid yumminess. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK 7.9 and 59.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS Abracadabra by the Steve Miller Band (Thanks, Beff). LARGE EXPENSES this last week include boutique beer to give to the staff at the MacDowell Colony, $45, various painting paraphernalia $15, dinner and Corsendonks with Jay Eckardt and Danny Felsenfeld, $110, black teaching jeans and a cat litter garbage pail at K-Mart, $60. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was in sixth grade, I got to play in the local (high school) district music festival, in the second trombone section. Dunno why, but it was nice experience. I was rather small compared to the rest of 'em, but covered the part just fine. I was able to get a (reel-to-reel) copy of the concert, and for months afterwards I delighted at playing the second trombone part along to the tape. The sanity of my parents and sister would certainly have had to be called into question during this period. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY are Inko's, because how could they not? THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How many words end with three or more consonants that include neither diphthongs nor plurals? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: flokst. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are the Cheney shooting story and Mary Matalin. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: meatless sausages with melted cheese. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the Local Live website. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 1.000000001. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: This page, Performances page, Sound examples page, Compositions page. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are none, but Cammy nuzzled a bubble-wrapped piece of porcelain clean off the dining room table, and it survived. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS WEEK: 4. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 31 out of 47. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: less is more. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Perry Burger. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Re: t rundle news. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,400. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: He's no good at being uncomfortable, so he can't stop staying exactly the same. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.53 in Connecticut, $2.11 across from City Hall. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the tension and release model, cold storage, ten things that have no middles, the darkest part of a Twinkie.

Updates will be quite sporadic following this one, as the colony hop proceeds in earnest beginning next Monday when I drive to the MacDowell Colony and mostly stay there for six weeks. I remember that I filled in "11:09" as my arrival time, so I better get it right. Whenever I go there to visit friends who are in residence, I bring some unusual beer for John Sieswerda, because it's what I do. I already have this year's selection, a-waitin' staff consumption. In answer to your question, no, I don't know which studio I will have. The last person I know who was there was Stacy, last month.

Only Martler bit at last week's cosmic quandary (how many words end in "kin"?). The starter words were bodkin and pumpkin. Martler did not originally find "skin", as I did, but the results of the poll are as follows (and I quoteth): Munchkin, Gherkin, Jerkin, Liebkin, Kin, Kindertotenliederkin, Lambkin, Fuckin', Skin, Foreskin, Mooseskin, Snakeskin, Davyskin. This week's puzzler is a little harder.

Today The Maids clean up this joint, so I must be prepared at any moment to be kicked asunder. At which point I plan to visit the Framingham Trader Joe's to get some cheeeps that Beth likes (with goat cheese and reduced fat), and to get yet more provisions at BJ's, including dry cat food. The tension is killa. Meanwhile, life continues on apace. I am close to finishing etude #71, and it will be a little longer than most. Close enough that I named it (not a funny title) and included it on the Compositions page. Later in the week (as in, tomorrow) is Sam's dissertation defense. Thursday I drive to Maine for dinner with Beff -- who will spend the weekend traveling to, being in, and returning from, Nawth Carolina. And next Monday it's off to Peterborough.

Last week's fun with the fourth job candidate at Brandeis was fun indeed. This time the restaurant was the old standby Asian Grill, and I got my fave Tom Yum Soup -- which was a little more lemony this time than usual. I also brought along the laptop to fill the idle moments, and it was a little surreal retrieving an e-mail from Adam Marks in the middle of the hall with a recording of his Orleans performance of Absofunkinlutely. The sound came out of the little laptop speakers just fine, the tempo is blistering, and it sounds pretty durn cool. And while there, I helped Ms. Ka-ching herself, Carolyn, with a Valentine's Day movie made with her camera and edited with iMovie, and she took pictures of me. For whatever reason.

At a quarter to six on Wednesday morning I shoved off (figuratively) toward the Big Apple to attend the latter part of a 10 to 12:45 rehearsal for Take Jazz Chords, Make Strange, to be performed on a Chamber Music Society Double Exposure concert Thursday. The drive was fairly eventless except for clumps of slow traffic around Fairfield, and I listened a lot to 880 ABC news -- shows you what I know. After parking at my usual place on 112th Street, I dropped my bag off at Jay and Marilyn's and took a subway to Lincoln Center. The subway stations now have kiosks where you can buy your Metro Cards and I was taken aback -- touch screens? Something associated with the subway that actually works? And hey, at the kiosk, 20 bucks gets you 24 bucks worth of trips. I felt like I had achieved -- no, earned -- a real bargain. What new innovation will next greet me at a subway stop? Free pie?

The players for my piece were really, really good, and really young, and very nice, and it was fun watching the interaction as they rehearsed. The blizzard had effectively scuttled at least one rehearsal, so more efficiency was obviously called for, and their parts had been cued to the hilt. There was not much for me to say except complain about tempi and give autobiographical detail about the piece. Hey, the outer movements both have 100 measures -- as Dan Stepner put it, one for every senator. I told the cellist that he was Rhonda Rider and the clarinetist that he was my wife, and that didn't seem to help.

The weather had gotten really warm -- near 60 in New York -- so I took a long walk both in the park and out of it, got tired, and crashed at Jay's pad, where I think I must have napped. At 6 I walked to the Abbey Pub, which is the scene of so many craven evenings with Jay and Marilyn, and met Danny Felsenfeld there, too -- whose beer I bought. Danny has been losing weight -- but gaining friends. I didn't realize that he and Jay didn't know each other, but now they do, somewhat, and Danny had to leave early for a concert. So Jay had the veggie burger, I did Buffalo wings, and the Corsendonk flowed, so to speak. At the end of the evening, the bartender, whom Jay knows, sent over two free Irish whiskies, and I gave mine to Jay -- I no be a hard liquor drinker. I think that one did Jay in.

On Thursday there was to be another rehearsal at who knows what time, and no word came to me when that would be. But I had a noon appointment with Jonathan, and I got there at 11:40. Jonathan was running behind, as usual, and an assistant typed in the income and charitable stuff. Jonathan was his usual hyper self, and this time since he was so far behind and others were waiting, too, we simply discussed the return, I gave him the meticulously calculated numbers I had, paid him, and off I went. I left at 1:15 and walked from 28th Street to Lincoln Center, since it was yet another gorgeous day. There I spied my old friend Valerie Guy, who knew when my rehearsal was (3:30), and that's when I found out. My rehearsal was yet another nice one, and Keith Fitch came in for his 4:30, and I listened until I had to meet Ken Browne for dinner (5:00) at Dan's. Keith used harmonicas, and that was pretty cool. I was ALSO glad that he had a keyboard part that was both piano and celesta, since that's what I was working on, and it confirmed everything I needed to confirm. And the pianist did NOT resemble Rick Wakeman.

The event itself was a hoot. Simeon Hutner, a filmmaker I know from MacDowell, was there, and Anthony Gatto, whom I know from Yaddo, had a piece, and it was another rollicking evening. And even Don Hagar made it. In my first give-and-take with Bruce Adolphe, I said that I played with a little lick from Lee Hyla's bass clarinet piece that Beff was working on and I could have called it "Hyla Lick Maneuvers", but didn't. Bruce said he had a piece that had "Heimlich" in the title, and I asked if it choked people up. You could hear all the mental rim shots that people were making at that point, so I sat down. Great concert, twice, and I finally met my hero Gene Caprioglio from Peters. Who made it through both sittings without dying. After the concerts, there were many conflicting impulses of places to go, none of which I went to. So Jay and I subwayed uptown, went to a little bar for one beer, and retired for the evening.

Friday was actually a more eventful day -- it started warm, again, and nearly all of the evidence of Sunday's record blizzard was gone by now. I did a nice lunch in the Village with Harold Meltzer, two hours at Cafe Fortuna with Michael Adelson, and another two with Michael's composition student, Aaron. And my raspberry tart was lovely. My return to Jay and Marilyn's to pick up my stuff coincided with Marilyn's return from playing at a saxophone conference in Iowa City. And off I went at 6:45, not having the sense of duty that Jay had to go to a friend's wind ensemble concert. Instead, I drove home midst a sea of high wind warnings. Except for the dark, it was eventless, and I was home and in bed by 10:30. With my lovely wife.

The three days of incredible warmth demolished the detritus of Sunday's big storm, and our yards are once again bare. I had considered going onto the flat roof outside our bedroom to shovel some snow off -- despite doctor's orders -- but ultimately decided against it. The weather took care of it anyway. The only snow left is the big pile by the corner of the garage that the professional shovel-boys left there. Though instead of 5 feet high, it's a foot high.

Saturday turned bitterly cold, and a bunch of quick snow squalls actually left a substantial white dusting around. The temperature was only about 15, so when the sun came out -- about 5 minutes after the snow squalls -- the snow in direct sun melted. Pretty cool, as the pictures below will testify. Beff and I walked downtown to pick up a few things for painting -- finally -- which will happen when she is on vacation, and nearly got blown over on our way out of the hardware store. Friday's windstorm had snapped a huge branch on one of our pine trees, so we had to pull it loose, saw it into pieces, and drag it into the discard area. We also had to readjust the tarp on the storage shed, naturally. A trip to Shaw's for provisions brought us eventually to K-Mart, as Beff was looking for a small garbage pail for kitty litter for when the cats make their brief move to Bangor. There I got me 3 new pairs of black jeans, which allowed me to do some triage upon our return. Everything else was just a light. Later we watched the latest installment of Project Runway -- it's such an addictive show, even for straight guys.

On Sunday Beff had to go to Maine by 10 in the morning in order to catch a matinee show of Jesus Christ Superstar done by students at the University of Maine, and there she noticed that there are now some extra numbers now that kind of suck. Meanwhile, I got two solid days in on etude #71, and it verges on completion. Yesterday I decided to back up some G5 files on my traveling external hard drive, but one part of the power cord seems to have gotten lost (I had it at the VCCA but don't know where it is now). I also decided to do Software Update for the laptop, connected it to the networking cable that was in the Windows computer, and nothing happened -- no internet, no nuthin'. So I made a trip to the Maynard Geek Computer store, got a new 25 foot network cable, got a replacement power cord, and noticed a remarkably detailed birdseye picture of downtown Maynard on the large monitor in the store. It turns out there is a website called local.live.com that does those road maps and satellite things like in Google Maps and Google Earth, but it also has some remarkably detailed pictures, taken from four vantage points, of several urban areas -- including Maynard. So I looked it up when I got back, and it doesn't work with the Safari browser. But it does work with Firefox, and it ... is ... so ... cool. There is enough detail that you can see our lawn furniture, even. It is so geeky that I played with it for quite a while -- probably explaining why etude #71 is not yet finished.

As mentioned already, updates until mid-April will be sporadic or nonexistent. So get used to it. Today's pictures include two not at all taken by Big Mike (ka-ching!), but he was in the room when the first was taken. The first two, taken by Carolyn (ka-ching!) are me in recovery mode behind a table of fixin's, and me in the Brandeis department officeon Valentines Day (note hearts on page behind). Then there are three shots of snow that didn't melt because of shadows: a car, a telephone pole (the legs are Beff's), and our house. Then, two little bits from local.live.com: first, a small thing of our house looking north (you can see the lawn furniture and garage), and a large picture looking south, where you can see our yard (outlined in red) and the context of our neighborhood -- including the much remarked-upon Ben Smith Dam. Note the proliferation of what Beff calls "execu-ick". You can also see just a bit of the old Assabet railway on the other side of the river.

MARCH 11 BRIEF UPDATE: I have been at the MacDowell Colony for 12 days now, have written etude #72 and am at bar 160 of a big piece. Full update upon my return April 10, and maybe some more teeny weeny ones like this. Last night's dinner: steak fries, peas, breaded sesame chicken wings, and salad. I am here today to paint, but not the way the visual artists at MacDowell do. Crocuses have sprung up in the back yard, and temp extremes since the last update are 6.8 and 68.0.

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MARCH 17 BRIEF UPDATE: Ten-minute movement finished. More on the way. Last night's dinner: chicken, asparagus, couscous, and salad. Tonight's event: dinner with Lee Hyla and Kate Desjardins. What once was warm has now been cold.

APRIL 11. Breakfast this morning was Boca meatless sausage patties with 2% milk cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Lunch was a cheeseburger club at the Horseshoe Pub in Hudson. Last night's dinner was salad with Good Seasons dressing that's been in the fridge for some time. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST SIX WEEKS: 6.4 and 73.4. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS MIDI of the third movement of my piano concerto. LARGE EXPENSES this last six weeks include Santa Barbara Olives, $200+, and that's all I remember. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: When I was doing work study at the NEC library my junior and senior years, I was charged with training the new circulation chief, or my eventual boss. Her name was Mary Ellen Sweeney, and she was so sweet -- way, way, way, WAY sweeter than the head librarian, who was in desperate need of you-know-what. Bob McCauley's contribution to the lexicon that year was her nickname: Smelly Air In Weenie. COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none, but a meek shout-out to the local Jiffy Lube, who still makes you stand there rolling your eyes as they go through a long list of things they are trying to get you to pay for that they can do that you don't need. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is Inko's because they always do, and Santa Barbara Olives. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: How many words are there that are intrisically funny? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: stoob. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF are the ineptness of the current administration, the new design of the NY Times web page, people who think vowels are better than consonants, and chipmunks. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: rashers of MacDowell bacon, fruit for breakfast, unsweetened lemonade and limeade, Santa Barbara olives of various kinds. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK "funky" works at several different speeds. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: "toomey" (a number so special they gave it a name). REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Lots of various pages. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK are a few things in the Maine house -- Beff says they knock over at least one thing per day. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST SIX WEEKS: 11. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 42 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Bicycles that pedal backwards. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Biaggio Felts. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: VAL I UM. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,739. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I haven't been shopping for any new shoes. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.61 at Cumberland Farms: but $2.18 just after the last update six weeks ago. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE vomit, more vomit, lots and lots more vomit, a sickeningly large torrent of vomit.

So there I was briefly in the music department this afternoon (Please Post; Summer Opportunities; Come To This Lecture; Your Faculty Research Request to record your piano concerto was turned down) and TWICE I got the "when are you going to update your webpage?" query -- each time in increasingly desparate tones. Or maybe it was disparate tones. Well, it was both. And the answer is -- whenever it is that you see this.

So what is there to report? Well, I was away at the MacDowell Colony since February 27, leaving there only a few times (once to paint here in Maynard, once to do dinner with Lee 'n' Kate, once to talk to patrons of the Rockport Music Festival, and once to talk to a class at the Walnut Hill School), and accomplishing a great deal. I wrote Don Berman his second etude, my 72nd, on an ancient Hebrew chant (Davy plays against type). I re-wrote an article on titles for New Music Box. And I wrote three movements of a piano concerto, which now stands at about 21 minutes. For you old-fashioned composers out there (you know who you are -- and that's the problem), that includes the orchestrating and entering into Finale, and I can report that so far it stands at 79 pages. The quickie piano part I generated is at about 36 pages.

The MacDowell trip was my eighth there, and my 20th colony hop in all. I can report that it resembled other residencies in a lot of ways, and was unique in a lot of other ways. For one, I find it hard to believe that it was only on my eighth trip to MacDowell that I discovered the old stone amphitheater from 100 years ago. And that this is the first trip where I learned the names of all the maintenance staff and kitchen help (Rob, Jamie, John, Blake, Anastasia, Lila, Ashley, etc.). And for the first time there I saw both deer (the white-tailed variety) and wild turkeys (not the one that comes in a bottle, which, if you think of it, is really hard to get them to do). My studio was Watson, for the second consecutive time; last time I felt a little listless and that the music coming out was almost arbitrary (Dream Symphony). This time I felt very energized, and as if at least the scherzo movement of this piece was significantly inspired. I've felt that way before and I was wrong -- so cave canem, and what it is, too.

And in my last colony hop, in 2003, I have hundreds of pictures of STUFF and maybe eight pictures of PEOPLE. I rectified that this time out, although a significant portion of my pictures were taken at parties with people doing stuff they may not want to be remembered for. Though if any organization calls me and asks me for a professional photo with a candy dot stuck to my forehead -- I've got one. And I can provide them for Lisa, Christy, and Nikki too (Eduardo, always the innovator, posed, instead, Davy-like, with a triscuit).

After 20 residencies, I always try to stand back a bit and not get too attached to the other colonists -- being that I have quite a few lists from previous residencies with addresses and names of people I could now not identify in a police lineup, and lots of times I've tried to get together with colonists many months or years later and things just don't work out. Well, that cool displacement thing didn't work this time, either. It took me many weeks to get into the groove -- as the colonists who predate you have lots of stuff to bond about already (it was the windstorms and the electricity going out this time) -- but once I did, stuff happened. Mostly, parties. For instance, I spent about two hours wearing balloons in my shirt one night, also with lipstick on my lips and eyebrows. The pictures that people took I want to use when I win the Nobel Prize (I hear they're instituting a prize for silliness). Though I wasn't the only one wearing prostheses that night. But I may have already said too much.

For the first time since Yaddo 1991, there were people who wanted to play E-flat blues, which is a trick I use a lot in theory classes (to explain the minor pentatonic scale) -- though there was a brief pilot program at Yaddo in 2000. Julian, a writer from New York, in particular had the "feeling", just not the technique. It was interesting to hear him form his ideas and actually develop them through a chorus. He always did the same stuff in the stop time choruses, though. And one night at dinner the poet Jo and I played chords on the oil and vinegar bottles -- eventually, with two empty wine bottles accompanying a fairly tuneless rendition of "Wrapped Around Your Finger". Jo, for her part, is very musical, which hit me when after I played the "Ray of Light" video she declared "that's the video where she discovered her head voice". E-flat blues in Gretchen's studio with Jo and Julian playing was both inspired and long.

As usual, I really dug going to open studios, readings, and other presentations -- especially the two that served unusually strong drinks (one margarita isn't supposed to knock you out, is it?). And finding out that muscle memory alone is sufficient to sound okay playing the E-flat blues -- thanks for the snowflakes, Gretchen.

As the weather warmed -- which took longer than a cadence in Tristan und Isolde -- I got to exercise, finally, hiking all the trails on the property repeatedly, and occasionally doing cartwheels. More on that later. But the sedentary, reflective lifestyle together with the unusually good food this time conspired to make me heavier. So back to walking and biking. Except not when I'm in Italy....

Speaking of which, I do that next Tuesday. The housesitter is Christy, a visual artist who had the Heinz studio. See her website over there to the left. And then when I get back, it's biking again for me, matey.

Back to MacDowell. The last week got pretty intense in the party division, culminating in a dance party in the amphitheater at night after Lisa's open studio. We were VERY dedicated, as it was maybe 45 out when it started and 35 when it ended. This is where I rediscovered my inner cartwheel. I also stood on my head and was asked to form the letters "YMCA" with my legs (as they had nothing else to do at the time). I did the best I could, and I was told I got the "A" while I was falling over. The one tangible effect these dance parties had on my post-MacDowell life was that I purchased Nelly's "Hot in Herre" from iTunes. Which you would think would be intelligent enough to let you find the damn song if you spell "Here" like the rest of the world does. Yes, that's me -- the rest of the world.

Externally speaking, Beff finished her two-week vacation and took the cats to the place in Maine. Where they at first hid in the box spring, and lately have discovered many kitty-cubbyholes in the attic. I drive there tomorrow and will delight, yet again, in the fried pickles at the Chocolate Grill in Old Town. So the house has been a little weird by myself, since I instinctively have presumed creaky sounds to be cats following me, which they can't, unless they were many, many miles longer. And about 4 weeks ago, on the first day around 70 (it was brief indeed), I drove to Maynard so we could paint in the downstairs hallway -- there was both a replastered and repaired stress bulge and a repaired ice dam stain in the alcove. The painting was fun, and Carolyn came along, and the crocuses were out, and the cats were in the windowsills, and there was beer and seafood, and it was a real hoot. Then it stopped.

And about a week and a half ago I appeared at a soiree (or whatever the afternoon version of that would be called) for board members and patrons of the Rockport Chamber Music Society. I got some very stimulating and interesting questions from an audience of people who were my age when I was born. Even better, I had buffalo wings that night.

Two weeks ago was an adventuresome day. Eddo, a colonist, took a ride with me to the South Acton train station, where he took a commuter rail in to meet with people at Harvard and MIT. Meanwhile, I did a talk at the Walnut Hill School and some various things at the house in Maynard. I was at South Acton to pick up Eddo for the 8:30 arrival, where we had decided to go for sushi at the Korean place in Maynard. The train came and went, and there was no Eddo. Luckily, he had called my cell phone earlier in the day, and as the train pulled out of sight, I called him. He answered. "You missed your stop". "(word that means) fecal matter". Quickly, I devised a plan -- I would drive to the Ayer train station and pick him up there. As I drove out of the station, he checked his printed schedule: "Yep, there's a stop called Ayer." "Then meet me there. And get off the train first." He preceded me by 10 minutes, since I didn't know the shortcut (and I did 2 revolutions of the rotary in Ayer, not being sure actually which one brought me downtown). We DID make it to the Korean restaurant, but they were out of sushi. Eddo got beef bulgogi, which he could not pronounce. I, by contrast, got something that I could pronounce. And we arrived at Colony Hall that night at 11:17.

So yesterday was the day of packing, having The Last Breakfast (there was a great moment where I was at the center of the panel and everyone pointed an accusatory finger), driving home, shopping at Roche Brothers before my final arrival, unpacking, and preparing the house for summer. Ah, installing the screens (including the attic, which always involved spraying some hornets to their deaths), oiling the chains on the bikes, putting oil and gas into the lawnmower, and picking up branches from the yard. How very nice. The crocuses are now gone by and the daffodils are out. I am not calling them trumpet flowers this year because I never have before, why start now? This morning, John Aylward and I did a long hike in the nature reserve, discovering a working old radar tower that looks like a golf ball there (there were cars parked by it), and after I took him to Brandeis, I took a 6-mile or so bike ride -- to, but not around, Boon Lake. Ah, nature.

And that's about where things stand today. There may be time for another update next Tuesday (my flight is in the evening), and there may not be. Meanwhile, enjoy the pictures. Since there were so many, I reduced them to get more in. There are three pics from painting day. Then, follow along: Kyle, Blake and Michelle; the DAVY t-shirt in the basement of Colony Hall; my studio; Colony Hall in the fog; two of my closeup ice shots (there are a lot); Lisa and Gretchen; MaryKate, Paula (obscured) and Cassie; Eduardo and Mark; MaryKate and Christy; David A; Nikki with a candy dot; Lisa setting up the sound system at the amphitheater; the (dark) dance party there; Mark on the rope over the fire pond; and the picture Julian took of me and Jo doing the blues. I am thinking of pickles.

APRIL 17. Breakfast this morning was meatless sausage patties with 2% milk cheese, orange juice, and coffee. Dinner last night was a large salad, and grapes. Lunch was hot and sour soup. TEMPERATURE EXTREMES THIS LAST WEEK: 36.0 and 76.5. MUSIC GOING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I TYPE THIS "Music" by Madonna (the only pop music setting of the word "bourgeoisie" that I know, and yes, I had to go to dictionary.com to confirm the spelling). LARGE EXPENSES this last week is a new, vastly more deluxe binding machine, $273. POINTLESS NOSTALGIC REMINISCENCE: My first colony was VCCA, and the first presentation I attended was on by a composer -- 2-1/2 hours including a refreshment break. I remember well a reading by an Israeli journalist and the question and answer session where someone asked about "the West Bankers", and the response was, "you can't call them West Bankers, not just because they aren't bankers, but also because you would then have to have Gaza Strippers". COMPANIES WHO HAVE NOT COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY THIS WEEK are none. COMPANIES WHO HAVE COVERED THEMSELVES IN GLORY is Roche Brothers supermarket, who has someone bring your food to your car, and refuses tips. THIS WEEK'S COSMIC QUANDARY: What was it like to vote for W? THIS WEEK'S MADE-UP WORD: trianicide. THINGS I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF include anything that uses the word "Rumsfeld", itty bitty flies, and generic e-mails from work. RECENT GASTRONOMIC OBSESSIONS: Cajun pitted olives, seedless grapes, lemonade. DISCOVERY OF THE WEEK the cats make a lot of noise at night. THIS WEEK'S NUMBER BETWEEN 1 AND 10: 9. REVISIONS TO THIS SITE: Reviews 3, and this page. NUMBER OF HAIRCUTS I GOT TODAY: 1. FRAGILE THINGS DESTROYED BY THE CATS THIS LAST WEEK is unknown. RECOMMENDATION AND PROFESSIONAL LETTERS WRITTEN THIS LAST WEEK: 0. DAVY'S BAROMETER FOR THE FUTURE OF MUSIC this week is 39 out of 100. WHAT THE NEXT BIG TREND WOULD BE IF I WERE IN CHARGE: Glasses that see into the future. THIS WEEK'S FEATURED FAKE SENDER NAME IN A SPAM: Adrianne Clyde. SUBJECT OF THAT SPAM: Re: Hi. horn-shaped. PHOTOS IN MY IPHOTO LIBRARY: 8,787. FEATURED FIONA APPLE LYRIC: I want to make a mistake. I'm going to do it on purpose. I'm going to waste my ti-i-i-ime. WHAT I PAID FOR GASOLINE THIS WEEK: $2.69 at the local Mobil, $2.77 in Orono. OTHER INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT WOULD BE A BETTER PRESIDENT THAN THE CURRENT ONE the first step of a long voyage, one way of looking at a blackbird, an Easter seal, a blade of grass.

Hey, lots of e-mails last week congratulating me on the resumption of the useless information that goes into this space (which would be nice if I could intentionally leave it blank. Hey, I'll practice that. Hold on.

I love wasting bandwidth. If that is, indeed, what I am doing. 'cause I'm not sure what bandwidth means in this context. Maybe there will be more blank space in future updates.

Speaking of which -- the next update won't be until late May, as I am practically on my way out the door, since I'll be in Italy at the Bogliasco Foundation Liguria Study Center (there may actually be words I left out) starting ... RSN. I am hoping to finish my piece there, and in any leftover time, either walk around Italy, or write piano etudes. Your (non-silly) ideas for etudes are welcome. No incendiary devices, talking, or use of extraneous body parts, please.

So this last week had a nice break in it, as I drove to Bangor and stayed in our SECOND mortgage for a few days. The place, being much smaller than the Maynard place, makes it easier to hear the much noise that the cats make at night when at play -- claw-sharpening on the wicker chair in particular, sounds particularly cavernous. Beff has also allowed them to go into the attic, which is something they beg to do when the door is closed, and they get into crawl spaces and get all dirty, and stuff. Cammy goes from gray and white to gray, gray, gray, gray, gray, gray, and white (that's not got MUCH spam in it). During the time Beff was teaching, I went to the mall to get nice pants for Italy -- for you see, I hear they make you dress for dinner. And I did, I did.

The event of note was the band and wind ensemble concert at the U of Maine, which we caught and probably enjoyed. Well, at least the wind ensemble sounded good. The first two pieces were as generic as they get (Beff said the second one might have been constructed with a band piece construction cookie-cutter set that could probably be found on the internet), and then genericness reached its zenith in a performance of a movement from a Weber clarinet concerto. The cute thing about that being the opening, which in the arrangement had the solo clarinetist accompanied by nothing but a sea of other clarinets. Cute. The concert ended with yet another set of variations on that Paganini tune that everybody uses that stopped about fifteen minutes after it was finished. The encore (The Thunderer, I think) was played about twice as fast and twice as loud as anything I've ever heard before.

Beff and I drove back at the same time, as she was on her way to Vermont for Easter with family, and the fastest (though not shortest) route takes her in this direction, and we decided both to go to Maynard, do salmon burgers on the grill, walk in the newly opened Assabet Nature Preserve, before she continued on. There we saw exactly one snake and heard exactly no peepers. But the weather was gorgeous -- it had been raining and cold in Maine -- and I busted out my Baywatch flip flops for the first time this season (you betta believe they are going with me to Italy).

Hin and Kellery came over for Kellery's birthday and stayed overnight. We hit the Quarterdeck (I got the clam roll) and Erikson's Ice Cream (not in that order), and enjoyed little single-user limoncello bottles. I gave them a bunch of SB Olives, which they forgot to take with them. We played with some of my chatter stones -- little rounded and polished magnetic stones that "chatter" when you throw them in the air a few inches away from each other. I even used the sound in my piece -- three percussionists doing it should be impressive. And we took silly pictures wearing said chatter stones.

Saturday was quite warm, and I'm pleased to report that the rhubarb is growing very fast, the daffodils are out, the forsythias are blooming, and the quince bush and front yard rhododendrons are starting to bud. It was a day of yard work, and I'm also pleased to report actually mowing small bits of the lawn -- we have a bit of crab grass in the far back that looks like the back of Dennis the Menace's head (not the British Dennis the Menace). Late in the day, Christy -- the housesitter while I'm gone -- came with her trailer of stuff, which was installed under the pine trees, and I was impressed that she knows how to back a truck with a trailer and aim it. Then I gave her the tour, we did the Quarterdeck, and we tore another page (figuratively) off the calendar.

Early in the week, I did my first traverse of parts of the Assabet Wildlife Refuge with John Aylward, and the exercise was good. This was followed by lunch in Hudson, and a trip to the impressive bridge over the Assabet for the bike trail -- and it is BACK UP. So we walked on the bridge, looked at things way down, made fun of various things, and I brought him to Brandeis, where I got my mail, etc. -- I believe I already reported that last week. I have now taken two exercise bike rides, including the one around Boon Lake, and saw ONE of my dogs that I regularly give bones to. Max was not available.

Cassie seems to have left MacDowell, as we got an e-mail from her about getting to all her pictures on a Kodak site online. They are impressive, especially the ones from the night of balloons (yo, I am WAY cuter than Gina Lollobridgida). And -- the noive -- there was a dance party in Calderwood AFTER I LEFT. I'll have to see someone about that.

So Beff took the binding machine with her to Maine, before I realized I needed to use it before I left for Italy. So I got a new, more deluxe one this morning at Staples (it can hole-punch 20 sheets, not just 10), and took the opportunity of being on Route 2A to pop into Quick Cuts for a quick haircut. I was tired of having wings, and now I don't. I'm also tired of all the times the phone wings and the caller ID says "Unknown".

VCCA Hal has been sending "poems by others" as a regular e-mail feature, and now it seems he has begun an epic poem called "35 etudes for piano" to be dedicated to me. Hal has a blog, and you can link to it in blue over there to the left. Check it out, check it out.

So I repeat. No new updates until late May.

This week's pictures include the before-and-after of our painting day a month ago, a lovely pile of junk that was left outside at the Wildlife Refuge, a baby radar thing we encountered in the refuge, the first green coming on to the weeping willows by the river, John Aylward not learning how to relax in a hammock, Hell and Kinnery trying out the Korean masks that Seung Ah gave us, them posing with a pair of chatter stones, and me at MacDowell being way cuter than Gina Lollobridgida. If you got to this page by a Google search for Gina Lollobridgida, I guess you're out of luck. But now you've got three hits on the same page. Gina Lollobridgida. Four!