Family column

Ever wonder what a hickey is, to an 8-year-old? Read all about it.

Theatre review

My review of a local production of "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown" ran in yesterday's Patriot Ledger.

Sixteen things

In honor of our 16th anniversary coming up next week, a random list of 16 things I love about Earl:

1. His nickname for me, and no, I'm not telling
2. His attitude about money, so completely different from mine, or what mine used to be
3. His incredible ability to put anything on the grill and make it taste wonderful
4. His "serious fun" approach to teaching the boys all about baseball
5. His willingness to deal with yucky things like bugs, mice, trash day, and mistakes made by the mortgage company, which take more than three hours on the phone to straighten out
6. His teary-eyed pride when my first column was published
7. His dedication to doing what is right for the kids
8. How everything becomes haunted around Halloween
9. How he occasionally will sing AC/DC or Steve Miller at the top of his lungs
10. His strong faith and service to our church
11. His understanding of my need for breaks, like a night out at writers' group or an outrageously early bedtime
12. His gorgeous green-gold eyes
13. His excited "swing and a miss!" when listening to the Sox on the radio
14. His doing all the yard work and the snow shoveling
15. His always loving me, through thick and thin -- life-wise and physique-wise
16. His pretending to be awake, without fail, when I catch him dozing in front of the TV

Fat Wednesday

I'd love to be able to make a joke about this -- like how my body is so adept at putting on weight that it ought to go professional with it -- but it's really just disgusted me so much that I don't even think it's funny.

I gained 4 pounds this past week. Four!

And yes, I had beach food and party food and birthday cake. And ice cream. And I missed two workouts.

But gee whiz. Four pounds!

I have tried not to obsess about weight here (or anywhere) since a friend pointed out that it really wasn't helping matters, anyway, physically or psychologically. But the four pounds have tipped the scales toward obsession again.

And now here comes the whiny part: it's August. Abby's birthday. My birthday. Timmy's birthday. Our anniversary. Vacation. The last hurrah of summer before the fall grind sets in again. I want to eat birthday cake and have a good time.

But it's also stressful, with parties to plan and execute, vacation planning, plus some extra stuff that's been happening. And I'm a stress/emotional eater, as well as a proficient eater in every other situation.

I want to lose weight but I don't want it to be so darned hard.

Encouragement is welcome. Telling me to suck up and deal is not.

Preview, review

Two short pieces in the Ledger yesterday:

My preview of Opera by the Bay's "Some Enchanted Evening" program on August 8; and

My review of a community theatre production of Thornton Wilder's "Our Town."

Stretching

This weekend, I'm substituting for the music director at my church, playing the piano for all five masses. I wrote a bit about it last week.

It's been a really interesting experience. I've practiced this week, of course, and decided where I would be playing the music as written, and where I would be cheating/improvising/reading chord symbols. For the most part, it's worked pretty well. I've played four out of the five masses so far, and I'm (gasp!) not even practicing between now and the last one. I'm actually not that nervous any more.

Yesterday at 4:00 was a whole different story. Our other regular cantor has a cold, so she asked a woman from the choir, who covers for us, to fill in. I found out about this on my way to church.

Of course, that threw me into a tizzy -- as if I needed anything else to be nervous about. But Pat was a trouper, and completely unflappable, even when some particularly egregious wrong notes clunked out of the piano. I was grateful that she was so solid, but was also very relieved when I played the last chord of the final hymn.

This morning, more of the same: trembling hands and nervous mistakes at the 9:00 mass. But when the 10:30 came around, I had the summer pick-up choir up there with me, and thinking about them somehow allowed me to get out of my own way a little, and enjoy the experience more. I played better, too, and that confidence and calm carried over to the 12:00 mass.

The pastor's homily touched on gratitude this week, and I have been reflecting on what a gift it has been to prepare the music for the liturgy. It's been nervewracking at times, but stretching one's musical muscles can sometimes be that way. I'll happily return to the microphone next week, but I have enjoyed sitting behind the piano, in spite of my nervousness.

Today's family column

I had an unfortunate experience with the boys' pitching machine. Read all about it.