rough mixes

On Saturday I picked up a CD from Tim with rough mixes. So now I'm listening to raw recordings of the initial ghost tracks (piano and vocals that will be re-recorded), drums, and all the guitar work that's been done: bass, acoustic, twelve-string, clean and dirty rhythm guitar.

Tim warned me that none of it had been mixed properly yet; to do so would be a waste of time as he'd have to do it all again once the piano, strings, lead guitars, synth, and all the vocals are added. Everything is in there as we laid it down, nothing's been refined yet. So while I was loving hearing all the parts come together, I'm also hearing a lot of stuff that will be weeded out to make the sound clean and be what we want it to be.

I think I'm a little like a rough mix sometimes. There's good stuff in there but I need to filter it out of the extra clutter. There's my philosophy for today.

And so the work has begun: I listen to the rough mixes on the computer, bit by bit in each song, then score up parts for strings. I have a program that lets me key in the notes (point and click) and hear it in playback, so while it's time-consuming I'm hearing the sound right away. Piece by piece, I work through the songs and figure out the new parts.

And on the non-musical front I'm figuring out what I want the CD to look like, jacket art and photos and what I'll write in it - thanks, dedications, etc. I have parts of that composed in my mind but need to get it on paper.

Even with all this there is still a surreal quality about it all. When will it be real? When I hold the finished CD in its nice tidy case in my hands? When I launch it? I don't know.

denial

This Friday is a milestone for our family.

R is turning 13. Our baby's a teenager. Thirteen years since we entered into this adventure called parenting, wondering how in the world we could be parents and feeling more than just a little overwhelmed. Thirteen years since D thought he was going to lose me after complications, and thirteen years since I was blown away by God's care for us. I still get goosebumps when I remember goaliemom's experience.

And on Friday, that wee baby who is now tall, slim and a natural beauty goes away for a week to North Carolina. She's not going to a local summer camp to soak up the sun and play, she's not going to learn new sports or going to arts camp. She's excited to be going to spend a week working with World Changers, doing hands-on construction projects for needy people. She will be hot, and tired, and she knows it - but still she looks forward to going.

I think she's more mature at 13 than I was.

But I am firmly in denial. She's still my little girl, even if she is growing up.

the amazing miss a

And so today, A is 11 years old. My smallest baby (with the shortest delivery time!) has grown into an adventurous, determined, smart young lady. She shares much of her daddy's math brilliance and willingness to take on challenges, loves to read and play with her Lego, and has just started to explore her abilities in drawing.

Yesterday we went to Thi Fusion for her birthday lunch. The girls were thrilled (yes, really) to get to talk to the chef and to realize that it's not typically a place where one would take children their age. But true to form, they tried all the food and enjoyed it. The results were interesting; all loved the beef carpaccio (well, who wouldn't?) and shrimp rolls, but when it came to sushi R and I preferred the salmon sashimi, while D, A and M liked the eel better. Pad thai and thai curry were likewise a hit, and the banana spring rolls and turtle cheesecake (the candy, not the animal) rounded out the meal beautifully. We even splurged on a bottle of Pellegrino water, much to A's delight.

Today we will traipse (yes. I feel like traipsing today.) out to spend her birthday money and while Bionocles are usually a hot item, I think my little girl wants an ipod Shuffle.

Happy birthday, A.

i love this place

Last night was dinner out to celebrate Gigi's birthday. So us, the K's and the J's went to, where else? Thi Fusion. This is a little place in Kanata that we've gone to so many times that (a) I can't keep count and (b) the chef took a special order for us that's now off the menu, but dear Seren had asked him when she made the reservation if we could have some. And he made it for us! Beef carpaccio. Lovely stuff.

We had amazing food, drinks, and many, many laughs together. All in all, a great evening.








Today we head back there again (two days in a row makes for a gooood week!) for lunch to celebrate another birthday. A turns 11 tomorrow, and requested a family dinner at a place they don't usually get to go to. When I suggested Thi Fusion, my little adventurous eater got very excited and has plans to eat sushi and pad thai. And, since we talked to the chef last night, more of that amazing carpaccio will be waiting for us ... mmmm.

not so impressive

While two sparring hawks in the sky is a sight to see, the effect of two animals vying for dominance while on the wing is significantly diminished to the observer when those animals are ducks. Even if the quacking does sound particularly irate.

Just for the record.

bonus

Last night near midnight I decided to head out to the front porch to enjoy a little snack, a glass of wine, and the after-dark sounds of the farm.

The moon was full but I could still see stars and watch the clouds move across the sky. I realized I'd made an error on snack choice when I tried to listen to the peaceful sounds and could only hear CRUNCHCRUNCHCRUNCH as I nibbled my flatbread. But between bites I could hear the gurgle of the creek and the different froggy noises. The spring peepers have finished their songs, but I could hear two other distinct calls. The crickets haven't started chirping yet, and I looked in vain for any early fireflies. It was a cool night so I was spared the typical onslaught of mosquitoes.

All in all, a very nice night as I sipped from my glass and looked at the northern sky.

Then, with no warning, directly in front of me, a shooting star zipped straight across. It wasn't one of the tiny, distant points that I usually look for during the meteor showers of summer; it was a huge flare that sparkled and left a visible trail. It stayed in sight for several seconds while I said "aaahh" and smiled like a little kid. It looked closer than fireworks, and I felt like I could have reached out and touched it. Bonus.

dog logic

Oh, Sam, you silly boy.

Yesterday was one of those days that provided an after-supper hour of still, quiet sunshine that just asked me to come outside. Then, the hammock got into the game and I couldn't resist that. So there I lay, starting to doze in the golden light as a bug buzzed lazily overhead. The mosquitoes even cooperated and left me alone for the most part. So nice, so peaceful. A little bit of paradise.

Then Sam, in his infinite canine logic, decided that what this person resting, lying still, one arm thrown across her eyes to shade the light, a slight smile playing across her lips as she enjoyed the warmth of the sun and the sound of the wind teasing the leaves, needed was a HUGE SLOPPY KISS.

Several, in fact.

I got up after sputtering for a while. It had been nice while it lasted.