Mr. Hoel's Opus

There's a Strib article today that talks about my orchestra conductor. Every word is true: he's a great guy. He's the one I played for back in my youth symphony days, and he's one of the main reasons I still play in an orchestra today. We're always teasing him about getting a hair cut, and he's always giving us a hard time about snow (or our lack thereof). (One thing not mentioned in the article is that he's a ski instructor at one of our tiny little hills here in the Twin Cities, and has been for-pretty much-ever.)

And speaking of that orchestra, I'm done for a while. We finished our last performance of the regular season on Sunday night. I won't be playing this summer (too many other commitments and trips and stuff), and it will be nice to have a break. But I cannot tell you how much fun it was to finally play Rachmaninov's Second Piano Concerto. Love, love LOVE that piece.

Reminder: Visualizing Obama's Budget Cuts

Here. (It's worth the 1:38 it will take you to watch it.)

My life is over (aka, have a nice summer without me)

MN Supreme Court just ruled that Gov. Pawlenty exceeded his statutory authority with unallotment last year. Just a guess, but if the DFL couldn't even erase a billion dollars from our budget this session (we've done maybe a third of that), no way we're going to deal with a few billion more in the week and a half we have left.

Peer Pressure

Internet, I showed some restraint today. During our weekly Doughnut Friday Meeting, one of my co-workers dared me. If I ate five doughnuts, she'd pay me a buck. I declined. See, Internet? Restraint. Just say "no" to doughnuts.

Well, kinda. I only ate three.

Yea, again I saith: Dr. Chiropractor Lady, thou art a miracle worker.

Last Saturday, I finally got to go out on real water and row for the first time this year. As excited as I was about this, it didn't really live up to my expectations. It was cold. It rained. We were chased off the water by lightning. Oh, and when I was carrying the boat down with my 3 cohorts, I stepped off a cliff and broke my neck...er, stepped/hopped of the ramp to the dock, and cracked my whole back. It wasn't good. After several days of not being able to move my neck or back or head properly, I finally made it to the chiro today, and Internet, I love Dr. Chiropractor Lady. She cracked my back like a walnut, and it popped more this morning than it has in the last, oh, four or five years combined. And then she gave my notorious ankle a tuneup, and now I should be good to go after another day or so.

Also, I got to experience the bubble bed for the first time. Other than making me want to go to the bathroom desperately, I liked it. Warm, like a massage chair, only you get to lay down. I'm all for it.

Stuff you'd think I'd have heard about by now

How is it I've never heard of grooveshark before this morning?

And that I'd never heard of myshape until last week? Let alone gilt.com?

I'm totally out of the loop, Internet. Totally. I think the only part of "hip" in me is the joint that hurts this morning after working out last night.

Workly Matters

Internet, I had to work late again yesterday. (surprise, surprise)

It doesn't help when I don't get to eat lunch until 4:30 in the afternoon, I suppose, but I had been feeling a step behind all day yesterday. My whole tired and foggy feeling was hammered home last night when I a) wrote the same bill summary for a second time (having completely forgotten about the first go-around), b) wrote a summary for the wrong bill, c) forgot to send all of the documents to our assistant, and 17) just gave up and went home around midnight.

This means I had to come in early this morning, and I still haven't actually accomplished all I need to (because I'm busy correcting last night's mistakes and taking phone calls from people trying to explain yesterday to them).

Uffda Vey, it's going to be a long week.

They say if you don't show up, you'll get drafted into doing stuff by those who do show up.

Hello, Internet.

I'm here to say that while that may be true (if you don't show up, you'll be drafted as a delegate or be put on some committee or be given the job no one else wants to do - by those who did show up), it goes the other way, too. If you do show up, you're just as likely to get drafted into doing stuff.

For example, I showed up at the annual boat club meeting Sunday night, and now I'm on the board.

I'm afraid to not show up at different stuff, 'cause at least if I go, I'll have an idea what they're getting me to do, but now I'm just as worried about showing up to do stuff. (I mean, this happened back in February at our precinct caucuses and conventions and such, and I kept getting elected as a delegate or an alternate anyway...)

Oh, well, the board won't be so bad. I've heard their meetings are usually short, only 10 of them each year, and there's food sometimes.

They say classical music is supposed to make you smarter.

Internet, I don't really know if that's true. You see, I have a problem. I can't remember what music I've played before. Everything sounds vaguely familiar to me, and then I find out that I played the very same music - even the same violin part - oh, four years before. (Or sometimes it's been as little as six months.)

See, I played a series of concerts over the weekend. This is one of the paying gigs that affords me to live my "lavish" lifestyle. (ha! Actually I think part of what I just earned helped me pay for turbotax software, and some more of it went to actually paying my taxes, leaving me with a whopping $80 for "lavish.") (And being the only first violin playing a concert isn't exactly my idea of "lavish" lifestyle. It's hard work. Stringed instrumentalists travel in packs. We succumb to peer pressure constantly. We don't play things by ourselves, and we definitely need help. How many violinists does it take to count rests? As many as we can get, 'cause it's really easy to lose your place and realize you've stared off into space and have no idea which measure you were on, and now you have to listen and hope you come in at the right spot, and of course the conductor doesn't cue you and now you just pray and hope for the best...)

Anyway. I digress.

So we played the Brahms Requiem (you know, the German one). The playing of it seemed vaguely familiar to me, and I kept thinking it was because I've heard it so many times. Well, Internet, I have heard it so many times. Because I played two concerts of it not even four years ago. That explains why the notes came so easily to me. (Trust me. It's not like it's because of my sight-reading skill or something.)

So I'm inclined to believe that maybe classical music doesn't actually make you smarter. Playing it definitely doesn't seem to make me smarter, at least. Or maybe it does...maybe I'd remember even less! if I didn't play classical music.

Woefully Awful: our local NBA franchise

I went to the T'wolves game last night with friend KK. Sure, the tickets were free and they involved decent seats, but I still don't know why I took them off a co-worker's hands. I mean, Internet, the Timberpuppies suck. They are so bad, the dogs doing the halftime Pedigree-sponsored races run faster and handle the (tennis) ball better than the Wolves do. So, yeah. Still not really sure why I went, other than that whole, the tickets were free thing.

One way to make them look better? Really fuzzy photos with extra people on the floor before the game even starts, so blurry you can't see them:

Our really profound thought for the game, courtesy of friend KK and yours truly? The Golden State Warriors' uniforms look like Ronald McDonald ran into a Denver Bronco:

Anyway, we went, left early, not bothering to see the end of the game or Don Nelson becoming the NBA's winningest coach.

I think I'll have to go check out the Twins soon just to get the awful aftertaste out of my mouth. Their new stadium, Target Field, right next door to the Timberwolves' Target Center is pretty and shiny and new, and the Twins have an awfully good roster this year: one I can get excited about.

Update: Like seriously, I can't get over the new Twins stadium. Check more of it out Here.

If I were biking the Tour de France, I would say "Mon arrière blesse"

Or in English, my rear end hurts. Remember all those nice things I said about biking yesterday? I take them all back.

(Or I take them all back - at least until I go find some padded shorts.)

A tale of a bike and a trip to Alaska

Oh, Internet. Only I would commit to biking through Alaska's Kenai Peninsula for a week this summer when I haven't been on one (bike, not peninsula) in, oh, 15 years, or something like that. So I decided to buy one and reintroduce myself to the whole concept of two-wheeled transportation (and not the segway type, either). I mean, why not? I already have gotten way too comfortable wearing spandex. True, one of the reasons I moved out of my old neighborhood was because the cyclists were driving me nuts, but I won't ever be like Them.

So, I'm currently testing out a friend's old bike (since she's upgraded for triathlon purposes), and it's absolutely a dream to ride. This morning was the first attempt, and although it needs new tires, it's beautiful and light and wicked fast compared to what I used to ride when I was a kid. I still need to be properly fitted, but I'm pretty sure that B.B.'s Trek will do the trick, and really: Why did I not get a bike years ago? It's terribly fun and I can tell it will be addictive, like rowing.

(Only I still say you won't find me riding a bike in the middle of winter in a snowstorm at midnight like all those crazy Uptowners.)