The Musical Journey Continues. . .

If you haven't already, you may interested to read about my musical journey here. And if you're not interested, well, then. . . get off my blog!!

Ahem. Sorry.

Anyhow, this past weekend I traveled a few more miles on my musical journey. 618.19 miles, to be exact, on my way to Pilot Mountain, NC. What's in Pilot Mountain you may ask? Why, the Pilot Mountain Bowed Dulcimer Festival, of course!

That's right, folks! I spent this past weekend learning how to play the bowed dulcimer. :-)

The bowed dulcimer first captured my attention last September when I attended one of the "mixed bag" workshops at the Memphis Dulcimer Gathering and Folk Festival. I was the only one who showed up for the bowed dulcimer workshop. Most everyone else attended the regular mountain or hammered dulcimer classes, but already being fairly proficient with a bow on the fiddle and somewhat decent on the mountain dulcimer, I decided I'd like to find out a little more about the bowed dulcimer. I mean, what could be better than an instrument that combines two of my favorite instruments??

The nice thing about being the only attendee of the workshop was that I got to hog the instrument and play around with it to my heart's content. And the poor guy who was giving the workshop was subject to my incessant questioning about, well. . . everything!

Here's a picture of my first encounter with a bowed dulcimer:

As you can see, it was love at first bow stroke. Anyhow, once I got used to having the fret board going vertically rather than horizontally across my lap like I do with a mountain dulcimer, I was able to figure out where all (okay, most) of the notes were and how to squeak out "Amazing Grace" and "The Ashokan Farewell."

Well, time went on and I tried to push the bowed dulcimer out of my thoughts since I knew I'd never be able to afford one anytime soon. But in January of this year, I joined Friends of the Mountain Dulcimer, a social networking site for mountain dulcimer enthusiasts. (That's me!) There I watched some videos by my friend Robin, whom I had met on the site. She plays the mountain dulcimer really well, but she also happens to play the bowed dulcimer! Naturally, I was intrigued and commented on one of her videos. Thus, our online friendship was born. :-)

Not long after that, Robin sent me information about a scholarship that was available for the Pilot Mountain Bowed Dulcimer Festival. At first I sort of dismissed it because I figured I'd never be able to afford an instrument, the travel expenses would be costly, and I'd have to take time off of school. Well, a few weeks after that she messaged me again encouraging me to apply. I thought about it for a little bit and finally, after the encouragement of a few other friends, decided it wouldn't hurt to at least let my interest in the scholarship be made known. So I emailed Ken Bloom, the director of the festival, and told him I was interested.

To make a long story short, I won the scholarship. And I was able to take a day off school for traveling. And the Lord provided through very generous friends the finances I would need for traveling. Plus, arrangements were made for me to be able to borrow an instrument for the weekend. Everything just sort of fell into place.

On Friday, April 13th, I woke up at 3:15 a.m. and hit the road for NC at 5:00 a.m. It was a beautiful day for a drive. Once the sun came up, it was shining and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I popped in an old-time fiddle CD (and several others as the day wore on) and enjoyed the drive. Fortunately, a few friends called me along the way to make sure I was still awake. :-)

I arrived in Pilot Mountain around 4:00 p.m. their time and checked into my hotel. My first workshop wasn't until 6:30 p.m. so I had time to freshen up and relax a little. At 6:30, with butterflies in my stomach, I headed down to the dining room of the hotel where the workshop would be held. As soon as I walked in people greeted me warmly. My butterflies instantly flew away. I met Ken Bloom and he got me set up right away with an instrument that Sharon, another attendee of the festival, had brought for me to borrow. About that time, in walked Robin! I think we both immediately recognized each other from pictures on FOTMD. It was so great to meet a good online friend in person!

Here's a picture of Robin and me together:

As you can tell, we're both happy to finally meet in person. :-)

Well, at the first workshop that night, Ken taught us how to properly hold the instrument so that it wouldn't slide off our laps and our arms could be free to move about. Then he taught us how to play the D and G scales and what fingering to use for both of them. After that we learned how to play "West Fork Gals" by ear. I could play most of it, but I had a little trouble in some spots, especially the B part. I had to get used to having the dulcimer fretboard going vertically instead of horizontally again!

After the beginners workshop, the others joined us in the dining room for the jam. Even though I didn't know most of the songs, it was still great fun to watch everybody and see all the different kinds of bowed dulcimers. And I was able to play a little when they got to "West Fork Gals." Also, Ken taught us how to play some back up chords that I was able to play on one of the waltzes.

After the main jam, Robin, some of my new friends, and I went to the lobby for a slow jam. Mary had her iPad with some dulcimer tab on it and they all taught me how to play "John Roy Lyall," a lovely tune I had never heard before. They also reviewed over "West Fork Gals" with me and I was able to straighten out the parts I was having trouble on. We broke up around 11:00 p.m. or so and returned to our rooms. It was a great day, but I was tired!

Here's a pic of our slow jam:

photo by Marsha Harris

The next day, Saturday, I got up and went down to the hotel's breakfast and enjoyed chatting with Robin some more. Laura joined us for a bit and invited us to walk with her to McDonald's to get coffee. A little after 8:00 we headed to the library, where the workshops were going to be held in the basement.

The workshops on Saturday were fantastic! Ken covered all kinds of things like bowing techniques, double stops vs. drones, playing in ensembles, shifting positions, etc. We learned to apply some of these techniques in three or four songs. "The Exercise," which is an exercise developed by Ken, helped us work on our bowing and fingering techniques. It also helps immensely with string cross-overs.

I especially liked the song "The Snowstorm" that Ken taught us.  (I can't spell the Ukranian title--I think it was Ukranian--someone correct me if I'm wrong.) On this song, Ken taught three different parts ranging in various levels of difficulty. Once he taught the parts, he had us all play together. I played along on the third part because it was the easiest. On one time through I tried to play the melody, but when it shifted positions I got lost and returned to the third part. :-) Anyhow, this song really helped us learn to play together and listen to each other and keep rhythm. It's a beautiful song!

After the morning workshops, we had our lunch break. It was a little chilly outside, but some of us still opted to eat outside since it was a pretty day and wasn't raining. :-) The lunch was delicious! During our lunchtime, we also took a group photo:

Not sure whose photo this is, but there are several different versions floating around the FB world. Thanks to whomever I stole this from. :-)

After lunch we continued with workshops until around 4:00 p.m. After that, we went back to the hotel where Robin, Laura, Rachel, and I jammed (and talked!) for a little while before we headed out to dinner. We ate at a cute little Italian restaurant--can't remember what it was called, but the food was good. :-)

After dinner, we went to one of the local churches where Ken Bloom put on a concert for us. It was great! I was absolutely in awe of everything he could do with a bowed dulcimer! As Robin described, it was "jaw-dropping."

When we returned to the hotel after the concert what should we do but jam some more! It was a great time had by all. I was especially happy to hear Ken, Marsha, and Rachel play one of my favorite tunes, "Shove the Pig's Foot a Little Further into the Fire"! :-) And when they played "West Fork Gals" and "John Roy Lyall," I was able to play along better than I had the night before! Laura also shared her tablature with me, so I could try to play along on some of the other songs. It was another great evening. I don't think I got back to my room until midnight or so! I was even more tired than I had been the night before, but it was definitely worth it! :-)

The next morning, Ken was nice and let us sleep in a little later. :-) We didn't have to be at the library for our wrap-up workshop until 9:00 a.m. Again I ate breakfast down in the lobby with Robin and Laura and then walked with Laura to McDonald's. It was a beautiful morning for a walk! I also had to say goodbye to Robin as she was getting a head start out of town. Laura was kind enough to let me ride with her to the library.

At this workshop, Ken reviewed some of the things he had gone over with us the day before and answered our questions. We also got to hear Ken and Marsha both play their versions of "Hector the Hero." They both interpreted the tune differently than the other, but both versions were absolutely lovely. The workshops ended around 11:00 and it was time for me to go. :-(

Here's a picture I got with Ken before I left:

This past weekend was one of the best I've ever had. I was overwhelmed by everyone's kindness to me.

Thanks, Robin, for telling me about and encouraging me to apply for the scholarship. And thanks for your kindness and friendliness! It was great to get to meet you in person and get to know you a little better. Looking forward to seeing you again someday--next year's PMBDF, perhaps? :-)

Thanks, Sharon, for letting me borrow your instrument for the entire weekend! How generous of you! I also enjoyed getting to try your fretless Pardessus.

Thanks, Robin and Laura, for being chauffeurs! It was great fun getting to know you both and laughing and chatting with you. :-)

And a big thank you to the generous donor who made the scholarship available! I couldn't have come if not for that scholarship!

Another big thank you to the person who so generously paid my hotel bill!

And a huge thank you to Ken for all the time and effort you put into making this a fantastic festival! I can't believe how much I learned from you in such a short weekend!

And many, many, many thanks to all my new friends for making me feel so welcome and like a part of your family. I enjoyed meeting and getting to know each and everyone of you and look forward to seeing you all again!

Needless to say, I have hopelessly fallen in love with this beautiful and intriguing instrument and the group of people who play it, and I was a little sad to have to leave Pilot Mountain. I was so tired but I wish the festival could have continued on for another few days! Fortunately, the excitement of the weekend gave me the adrenaline needed to stay awake for the long drive home. Listening to my new CD by Ken Bloom also helped. :-)

And I must say, the excitement still hasn't worn off. I'm already looking forward to getting my own instrument someday and heading once again to Pilot Mountain. :-)

Crafty Thursday

The nice thing about being a person who has lots of interests and loves to learn is that I'm rarely bored. So far this spring break I've conquered boredom by doing a major spring cleaning of the entire house, reading four novels, playing my dulcimer and fiddle for hours, going for walks, cleaning hair out the shower drain, rotating my tires (okay, okay, I took it to a shop to have them done), baking brownies, talking on the phone with my sister Kara, potting some of my plants that I've been rooting, and lots of other stuff.

This afternoon, I decided that I wanted to get crafty and figure out how to use my sewing machine that I've had for over a year. I figured I'd start with an easy project. I found this tutorial for making a reversible tote bag.

Two hours later, here are the results!

I made the handles a little longer than the tutorial suggested. I wanted to be able to use as a shoulder bag.

I can turn it inside out for a different look!

Here's a shot so you can see both fabrics together. You may have noticed that I used one print for one handle and another print for the other handle. That's because I didn't have enough fabric of one print to do both handles. But I think I like it better with two different handles. :-)

Grammar Grumble #2

As promised, here it is:

Friends--I say this lovingly--there is a difference between the word when and the word whenever!!

Whenever refers to repeated events or an uncertain date.

Whenever we go to to the store, we buy gumballs. (Repeated event--We buy gumballs every time we go to the store.)


When refers to a specific, one time event.

When I went to the store last week, I bought gumballs. (I don't buy gumballs every time I go to the store; I bought them on this one occasion.)


I find sentences like these, irksome:

Whenever I went to the store yesterday, I bought gumballs.

Whenever I was a kid, I rode the bus to school.

Can you tell what's wrong with those sentences???

And, yes, my fellow grammar snobs,  I know there are some instances in which when and whenever can be interchangeable, but that's not the point of this post. :-P

Grammar Grumble #1

Disclaimer: I can say what I'm about to say because I'm not a Northerner. . . I'm a Midwesterner. :-P

Since moving to the South, I have noticed two grammar atrocities that drive me absolutely crazy. While I know that these atrocities are not specific to the South, I seem to notice them a lot more down here than I ever have anywhere else I've lived.

First of all, people, have you ever ever heard of what we call a past participle?? (Pause) Yeah, that's what I thought. Let me give you an example of what I hear on a daily basis:

"I had went to the store . . . ."

"I had ran across the street . . . ."

"I have chose . . . ."

"I  have gave three dollars to . . . . "

"I had ate five grapes. .  .  ."

AAAGGGGHHHHH!!! Okay. Quick grammar lesson, people. Here we go:

All verb tenses can be formed from one of the three principal verb parts. We have the first principle part, also called the present. There's the second principal part, also called the past. And there's the third principal part also called the past participle. (It's important to realize that principal parts are NOT tenses; they are merely the parts we use to form the tenses.)

Most verbs are regular verbs. That means the 2nd and 3rd principal parts can be formed by adding a -d or -ed to the end of the 1st principal part. For example:

Present (1st)                Past (2nd)                    Past Participal (3rd)
walk                             walked                           walked
bake                              baked                              baked
jump                             jumped                          jumped

Now, to form the simple tenses from these principal parts is quite easy:

Present tense = 1st principal part (walk, bake, jump)
Past tense = 2nd principal part (walked, baked, jumped)
Future tense = will/shall + 1st principal part (will walk, will bake, will jump)

You probably noticed that the 3rd principal part, the past participle, isn't even used when forming the simple tenses. Pretty easy, huh?

Okay, what about the perfect tenses? (What on earth is a perfect tense?!?!?) Glad you asked. A perfect tense shows an action or state of being that has been completed or was true before a certain point in time.

For example, in the sentence, "We had studied nine authors by the time we reached the end of our literature books last year," the verb had studied shows an action that was completed before the time we reached the end of the literature book. It's like the past of the past. We call that the past perfect tense.

In the sentence, "We have studied twelve different authors this year," the verb have studied shows an action that has been completed during the present time period (this year). It's like the past of the present. We call that the present perfect tense.

In the sentence, "By the end of the year, we will have studied 17 authors," the verb will have studied shows an action that will be completed by a certain point in the future (the end of the year). It's like the past of the future. We call that the future perfect tense.

Perfect tenses are easy to form. They are always formed by using the auxiliaries have, has, or had and the 3rd principal part, or the past participle, of the verb.

Past perfect = had + 3rd principal part (had walked)
Present perfect = have/has + 3rd principal part (have walked)
Future perfect = will have/shall have + 3rd principal part (will have walked)

Seems simple enough, right? Of course it does! So where does the problem lie? Well, you may have noticed that with a regular verb, the 2nd and 3rd principal parts are identical. This leads some people to unwittingly believe that the perfect tenses are formed using the 2nd principal part, and they will use the 2nd principal part to form their perfect tenses. This isn't really a problem until we get into our irregular verbs. That's right, folks, irregular verbs.

An irregular verb means that the second and third principal parts can't be formed by just adding a -d or -ed. Therefore, there's going to be a difference between the 2nd and 3rd principal parts.  Let's take a look at the principal parts of some irregular verbs.

Present (1st)                       Past (2nd)                            Past Participle (3rd)
go                                        went                                      gone
run                                       ran                                        run
choose                                 chose                                    chosen
give                                     gave                                      given
eat                                       ate                                         eaten
fly                                       flew                                      flown

So to form the perfect tenses of these verbs, we would have the following:

Past perfect = had + 3rd principal part (had gone, had run, had chosen, had given, had eaten, had flown)
Present perfect = have/has + 3rd principal part (have gone, have run, have chosen, have given, have eaten, have flown)
Future perfect = will have/shall have + 3rd principal part (will have gone, will have run, will have chosen, will have given, will have eaten, will have flown)

This means that you should NEVER say had ate, will have ran, has gave, etc.
That, my friends, is Grammar Grumble #1. Stay tuned for Grammar Grumble #2 . . . .

What's Wrong with Today's Kids?

Not too long ago when discussing chronological and spatial paragraph organization with my students, I assigned them a homework assignment in which they were to describe their bedrooms using spatial organization and describe their morning routines using chronological organization. Seems like a simple assignment, right? Well, this simple assignment revealed the answer to one of America's most terrifying questions: What's wrong with today's kids?

Here's the answer:

Out of the 17 paragraphs turned in that described bedrooms, 14 of those paragraphs described bedrooms which had televisions in them. About seven of those also had some sort of gaming system. One student described his entertainment system in his bedroom in great detail but neglected to mention that he had a bed. A bed in a bedroom--what a novel concept.

Of the 14 students who said their bedrooms had TVs in them, 10 of them mentioned that they watch TV as part of their morning routine.

If the paragraphs about the morning routines are accurate:

• None of the students read their Bibles in the morning.
• Seven of them don't brush their teeth in the morning.
• Eight of them don't eat breakfast.
• But TEN of them watch TV. . . .

America, we have a problem. . . .

Musical Musings

January 12th marked the third anniversary of the day I took my first official dulcimer lesson. Thinking about this date made me look back and remember all those who led me and encouraged me on this journey.

My love for music really began at a young age. I remember Mom teaching me and my classmates hymns using her giant picture books that went along with each one. Singing time was always my favorite part of the school day in the small Christian school I attended where my mom taught 1st-3rd grades all in one classroom. She'd teach us the hymns during our Bible time in the morning and we'd all take turns getting to hold up the pictures for all the others to see. In the afternoons, we'd sing fun folk songs. We always loved it when she'd get out the rhythm instruments and let us keep time. Although she teaches in a much larger Christian school now in a much bigger city and the times have definitely changed, she still teaches these songs to her students.

Dad is the one who taught me how to just sit and listen without distractions to a song for pure enjoyment. I remember many evenings when Dad would put some of Granddad's old records on the turntable and turn the lights off, close his eyes, and just sit in his rocking chair and listen as the music filled the room. My sisters and I loved sitting and listening with him. Dad wasn't much of a singer, but every once in a while, we'd hear him humming along. We learned songs like the "Wabash Cannonball" and "Tennessee Waltz."  Dad especially liked the old gospel songs that spoke of heaven like "The Unclouded Day" and "By and By, When the Morning Comes." Sometimes I'd wonder what he was thinking about when he'd sit in his chair with his eyes closed listening to these songs. Probably heaven. Now, he's in heaven hearing music that is more beautiful than we could ever fathom! It was at this young age when I dreamed of someday taking violin lessons and learning to play "Dad's songs."

My parents knew of my desire to learn how to play the violin, but I grew up in a very small town in southern Iowa where the only music lessons available were piano lessons. Mom got me started taking piano lessons from a lady who would come to the school once a week, but I lasted only about three months. I just had no desire for the piano and we had no piano at home to practice on. I didn't miss it at all when I stopped lessons and I still don't regret quitting. My desire was to play the violin.

Well, the years went on and we eventually moved to Des Moines about a month before I turned 15. I started attending school, making friends, and I got my first job working at a grocery store. One summer day after work, my mom came to pick me up. (I was one of those uncool kids who didn't have her driver's license, let alone her own car.) I was just a couple months shy of turning 17. She said she needed to run an errand before we went home. As we were driving along, we passed a music store. The neon signs in the window advertised that they offer lessons. My mom, who is notorious for thinking out loud, wondered whether they offered violin lessons.

"Why?" I asked.

"Don't you still kind of wish that you could take violin lessons?"

"Oh, I've wanted to practically my whole life."

"Let's turn around and go see if they offer violin lessons."

"Aww, Mom. I'm too old now. I can't read music. I'd look like an idiot."

"No, you wouldn't." And she u-turned the car and pulled into the parking lot. The next thing I knew, we were walking out of the store with a rental violin and I was signed up for lessons. That was back in July of 2001. My first lesson was to be a few weeks later in August. I'm so glad my mom didn't let me convince her that I was too old to start learning the violin. And after meeting a couple in their eighties at Fiddler's Grove Old Time Music Festival in North Carolina who were both just starting on violin lessons, I'm convinced that you are never too old to learn an instrument.

My first violin teacher was Deb. She was a local university student who was working on her music degree. Deb taught me how to read music. I knew that the little dots on the lines represented notes, but other than that I had no clue. Lessons were only a half hour long, which wasn't long enough. I wanted to play for hours!! And that's what I'd do during the week. I'd practice for hours. I was in love with the violin. I flew through my first two and a half books within four months, thanks to all the practice. However, Deb graduated from the university in December and I was left without a teacher.

Lucky for me, a lady at my church was a phenomenal violinist. She worked full-time somewhere, so she had only one violin student. My mom talked to her and she agreed to take me on as a student, too. Mrs. Wahlstrom was the best violin teacher I ever could have asked for. She taught me how to properly hold the fiddle violin and bow. I can still hear her voice: "Relax!" She taught me that "vibrato covers a multitude of sins" (intonational sins, that is). I also learned how to tap my foot to help me keep time. (The metronome and I never got along. I had to use my feet.) Mrs. Wahlstrom also convinced me to play in front of the church for the prelude. "Our Great Savior" was the first song that I ever played in front of an audience, and I was scared out of my wits. But with her encouragement and guidance, I made it through. It also helped that it was just during the prelude when everybody's talking and finding their seats and paying no attention to the musicians. :-) I missed her immensely when I went off to South Carolina for college, and I was always glad to be able to resume my lessons when I came home for the summers. Even though I live out of state now and play a lot of old-time fiddle music, she still keeps me accountable to make sure I'm holding my fiddle violin correctly and play the role of the dignified violinist once in a while. :-) Thanks, Mrs. Wahlstrom, for the years you put into my musical journey. I really did learn most of what I know about playing the violin from you.

When I went off to college, I knew I didn't want to quit taking lessons. I was afraid that if I put the violin on hold for four years, I might never take it up again. The university offered a violin class that anyone could take, but if you wanted private lessons you had to audition. I decided I would audition for the private lessons, since the violin class consisted mostly of beginner basics. I made it through the auditions but failed the music theory written test. However, I was still allowed to take private lessons as long as I also took Introduction to Music Theory. I signed up for lessons and the theory class. The theory class met one day a week, but I struggled throughout. Fortunately the class wasn't for a credit so  we didn't get graded. :-) (Music theory has always given me trouble, but over the years I've been learning it little by little. I still feel very inadequate in this area, but when I look at what I know now that I didn't know then, I am comforted that maybe I am learning it after all.) I was very nervous about taking private lessons at a university. Lessons counted for a credit. That means there would be a final exam at the end of the semester. It also meant that it could doom my g.p.a. if I didn't do well.

Mrs. Hutton was assigned to be my private teacher. Being a non-music major taking lessons in the same building with all the musical prodigies, I was very nervous. But Mrs. Hutton made me feel very comfortable and I learned a lot from her. The most important thing I learned from her was how to "play nicely with others" or at least play nicely with unruly piano accompanists. (Well, they seemed unruly to me, but I'm sure it was I who was the unruly one.) It was during these four years where I learned how to play under pressure, although I know I haven't mastered that yet. We'd spend the entire semester working on two pieces, a classical and a sacred piece. The classical piece would always involve shifting into extremely high finger positions. It would take me just about the whole semester to get those songs learned! And let me tell you, playing a solo in front of a panel of judges and knowing you are being graded is traumatizing! Nevertheless, I managed to get through seven of those final exams during my four years there without ever passing out.

Well, after  I graduated from college I got a teaching job offer here in Memphis. I was afraid that I would lose what I had learned over the past five years of violin lessons if I didn't find someone here who taught lessons. Finding an affordable teacher was one of the first things on my to-do list once I got settled in to my new job and my apartment. Well, it wasn't too long after I moved here that I met Mr. Barley, the man responsible for my conversion to old time music.

On my first Sunday at my new church, the pastor's wife asked if I would be willing to serve punch at a reception that the church was having after the evening service. She figured it would be a good way for me to get involved and meet people. I willingly obliged. (Everybody knows it's less intimidating to stand behind a punch bowl serving punch than to stand around awkwardly in a room full of strangers, hoping for some kind soul to pull you into his conversation.) I hadn't been serving punch for too long when a very exuberant man walked up to get his punch.

"Hi! You wouldn't happen to be a violinist, would you? You just look like the type of girl who would play a violin."

"Um, actually, I do play the violin." I was a little leery of him.

"Have you ever fiddled?" he asked me in a very peppy, hopeful voice.

"Not really. My roommate in college taught me one fiddle song."

"Well, my name's Mr. Barley and I'm the minister of old time music here at Central, and I need a fiddler for my string band. You interested?"

I was slightly taken aback by his offer. I mean, I'd never heard of a church that had a music minister AND a minister of old time music. And a string band?? Huh?

"Well, I really don't know how to fiddle."

"Eh, it doesn't matter. We'll fix that."

"Um, okay, then sure."

The next Saturday I was at the Memphis Area Bluegrass Association's weekly jam, where Mr. Barley had arranged for a fiddler to give me some tips on how to play a song fiddle-style. The very next day I was up on stage at church with the Cement Pond String Band playing "By and By, When the Morning Comes." And that was the beginning of my love for old time fiddling.

Mr. Barley also took me further in my musical journey by persuading me to join the church choir and later, the Promised Land Sacred Harp Singers. He is also a source of great encouragement whenever I'm extremely nervous before playing an offertory in church. And when I totally botch a song, he always tries to make me feel better. One of the most significant things he did for me was to introduce me to Larkin Bryant.

Originally, I was to take old time fiddle lessons from Larkin. Mr. and Mrs. Barley agreed to let us meet at their house for our first lesson. After my lesson, Mr. Barley insisted that Larkin play a song for me on his dulcimer. Before moving to Tennessee, I had never heard of a dulcimer. Larkin graciously obliged and played "Song for Polly," her own composition, and "What'll I Do with the Baby-O?" I loved it. For the next six months I would go to Larkin's house once a week where she'd teach me a new fiddle tune or show me how to "fiddle-ize" one of the tunes I was going to play with the Cement Pond String Band, but all that time I couldn't get that dulcimer out of my mind. I just knew I had to learn how to play one. Somehow, the topic came up once with Mr. Barley. He told me that "Desire is nine-tenths of everything" and that I should go out and get a dulcimer. A couple months later, I was the proud owner of a McSpadden Walnut dulcimer. I began taking dulcimer lessons from Larkin, with a fiddle lesson thrown in here and there.

One of the most important things Larkin has taught me is how to play music from the heart. (I find that hard, though, sometimes when my nerves get the best of me.) Her beautiful and graceful way of playing the dulcimer absolutely mesmerizes me. I don't think I could ever find a dulcimer player in all the world who can play like she does. I'm so privileged that she's my teacher! Larkin has also helped me begin to arrange my own songs for the dulcimer, something I thought I would never be able to do!

Not only do I have the people already mentioned to thank, but I also must thank the many people I've met at dulcimer jams who've shown me little tips and given me encouraging words. And, of course, the Memphis Dulcimer Gathering has played a huge part in my learning of the dulcimer. There's always a line-up of superb instructors. I've had the privilege of learning from some of the greatest mountain dulcimer players such as Janita Baker, Lee Cagle, Stephen Seifert, Lorinda Jones, Joe Collins, Molly McCormack, and several others.

All of these people in this post really stand out to me as those who have charted my course throughout my musical journey. Their dedication, patience, and encouragement have made this musical journey the journey of a lifetime. And I'm glad to say it's not over yet!

The Reality of Christmas. Think about it.

There'll be parties for hosting, marshmallows for toasting, and carolers out in the snow. There'll be scary ghost stories, and tales of the glories of Christmases long, long ago. It's the most wonderful time of the year!

Ahhh! The Christmas season--I love it! I love the decorations, the sights, the smells, the music. I love it all. I truly think it is the most wonderful time of the year! When I was a kid, people used to tell me that I would "grow out" of Christmas and that the older I got, the less exciting the season would be for me. "Just wait until you're older when you have to drive in the snow and fight crowds to buy Christmas presents! Just wait until you have to frantically rush around at last minute to finish Christmas baking, wrapping presents, and cleaning the house for company! You won't think Christmas is so exciting then!"

All I have to say to those people is bah, humbug! I LOVE the busyness of the season! I love baking! I love finding just the right presents for my friends and family.  I love wrapping presents! And I'm pretty good at it, if I do say so myself. (It's my gift.) I love watching the shoppers pass by with their treasures! (I've always enjoyed people-watching.) I love going to Christmas programs. I love the music of the season. I love the lights. As I said, I love it all!

Maybe you're like me, and you love the Christmas season, too. Unfortunately, it's far too easy to get caught up in all the sights and smells and sounds of Christmas and forget the reality of Christmas. Oh, sure, we all appreciate the signs and decorations and Christmas cards that remind us, "Jesus is the reason for the season!"  However, how often do we stop and contemplate that statement? How often do we let the reality of Christmas really sink in and affect our outlook on the Christmas season? No Christian would deny that Jesus is the reason we celebrate Christmas, but are we inadvertently leaving Him out of our celebrations because we get too caught up in all the wonderful festivities that surround us at this time of year?

Don't worry. I don't believe at all that we should give up all the things we enjoy during this time of year. There's nothing wrong with these things. I'm just asking all of us to reflect--and I mean really, truly reflect--on what it meant for the world when Jesus was born. I believe that Jesus came to us as a little baby and grew up only to die in our place. But I'm like a lot of Christians: I believe it, but I don't always reflect on it as I should. It's very easy to believe something is true, but sometimes it's hard to make it a reality in our lives when it happened so very long ago.

This year our choir at church sang one of the most beautiful Christmas songs I have ever heard, "Candlelight Carol" by John Rutter. You can listen to it here. The third verse is my favorite:

Find him at Bethlehem laid in a manger:
Christ our redeemer asleep in the hay.
Godhead incarnate and hope of salvation:
A child with his mother that first Christmas day.

Just think about those words! I mean, really think about them:

Think about Christ our redeemer! According to the American Heritage Dictionary, to redeem something means "to set free; to rescue or ransom; to save from a state of sinfulness and its consequences; to make up for or compensate for; to restore the honor, worth, or reputation of." Christ redeemed us! We are unworthy to stand before the God of the universe. We are dirty, rotten sinners. We deserve to spend an eternity in hell. But Christ redeemed us! We don't have to spend an eternity in hell, separated from God! We can spend a glorious eternity in heaven, worshiping and adoring our Creator and Redeemer! Think about that.

Think about the Godhead incarnate! Incarnate means to be embodied in human form. The Godhead in human form! And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth! The Godhead incarnate: Christ as a little helpless baby, born to a poor, young virgin who had no place other than a feeding trough to lay her precious newborn. Christ spending 33 years on this earth, a fallen and wretched world, eventually suffering a death more horrendous and painful and humiliating than any of us will ever experience. Why would He be willing to do all of that for us?? Think about that.

A child with his mother that first Christmas day. Think about that and all that it encompasses this Christmas season.

O Holy Night

This post is for my Facebook friends who have been asking me to upload another dulcimer video to my FB page. Well, I've recently discovered that uploading videos to my blog is a WHOLE LOT faster than uploading them to my FB page! Sometimes it takes six or seven hours for me to get a short video clip uploaded to FB, but this took me only about three minutes!


"O Holy Night" has always been one of my favorite Christmas songs. This version I'm playing on my dulcimer was arranged by my favorite dulcimer player in the world, Larkin Bryant, who also happens to be my dear teacher. :-)

I was still learning the song when this video was made and I don't have any video editing software, so there are quite a few mistakes and I am playing it a bit too fast. But, anyhow, merry Christmas to my dear friends, and thank you for encouraging me in my attempts at learning the dulcimer. :-)

It's Beginning to Smell A Lot Like Christmas!

I love baking anytime, but Christmas baking is the best! I've already made a few of the Christmas "staples" with my roomies, but I decided to try a new cookie recipe tonight. These are called Ginger-Lemon Delights. The cookies are a sugar cookie base with molasses, ginger, clove, and cinnamon added. The icing is made from powdered sugar, lemon juice, and grated lemon peel. The "sprinkles" on top are crystalized ginger. The flavor is very exotic and is a little too rich for my taste, but according to my roomie, who really likes the cookies, "The taste hits your senses before the cookie even hits your mouth."

How to Get into the Christmas Spirit

Here are some pictures of some our Christmas decorations! And to think we actually thought about not decorating this year! Once we finished putting everything out, we were so glad that we did. It's amazing how having Christmas decorations up can put you in the Christmas spirit! If you haven't decorated your house for Christmas, do it NOW!! It's not too late! :-)

I love having a real fireplace with a mantel!

My favorite display

Our Christmas tree. :-) Among the three of us, we have just enough ornaments to decorate it.

Even the kitchen gets decked out for Christmas!

December Rain

I love going to sleep to the sound of rain. Tonight, as the rain hits my window, I hear the sound of a thousand horses galloping in the distance. I was inspired to write a haiku. :-)


Galloping horses
Tat-a-tat on my window.
My eyes close; I sleep.

Defining "Black Friday" to Foreign Exchange Students

I  have two foreign exchange students in my speech class this year. One is from Brazil and the other is from Germany. It's always interesting to hear their perspective on American culture. However, sometimes it's difficult to explain certain "Americanisms" to them.

The other day a few girls walked into speech class gabbing about how much they were looking forward to Black Friday. As my exchange student from Brazil listened in, I noticed a confused look on his face. Then I saw him mouth the words to another student, "What's Black Friday?" The other student couldn't tell what he was trying to ask him, so I piped up.

"Oh, are you wondering about Black Friday?"

"Mm-hm"

"Black Friday is the day after Thanksgiving when the 'official' shopping season for Christmas starts. All the stores open extra early and they have really good prices, so the majority of Americans go shopping on that day."

"Oh. Okay. . . but why is it called 'Black Friday'?"

The other students in the class chime in, "Yeah! Why is it called that?"

I've never really heard why it's called "Black Friday," but the eyes of all my students were looking at me expecting an answer.  I decided to tell the students why I think the day is called "Black Friday."

"Well, I'm not positive without looking it up, but black usually represents death and my speculation is that it's called 'Black Friday' because people get killed on that day. I've heard of people who've been trampled to death by crowds of people rushing into Walmart to get the best deal on flat screen TVs."

A chorus of "Oh, yeah!! I heard about an old lady who got smooshed behind a door!" and "There was a man who got hit by a car in a parking lot, too!" and "Did you hear about the lady who . . . blah, blah, blah," swept across the room.

I looked over at the two exchange students. Looks of horrified shock and disgust had swept across their faces.

"Does that answer your question?"

"Uh, yes. Thank you."

And then the bell rang for class to begin.

I later found out that "Black Friday" is called such because it's a time when the stores bring in so much money, they are said to be "in the black," as opposed to "in the red." A few of my fellow teachers couldn't believe that I had given the reason I had to the students. I kind of felt bad after that because I was sure I had made America look horrible to these exchange students. HOWEVER, I don't feel so bad now because I found out that my definition of "Black Friday" was actually somewhat correct!! After doing some research, I discovered the phrase was coined in the 1960s by a police officer who had observed the horrible traffic accidents and mobs of people crushing other people on that day. It was only in more recent years that retailers decided to give a positive spin on the name by saying it was called "Black Friday" because sales were up so high on that day. Personally, I think the former definition is more fitting. :-)

The Perils of Making Hot Chocolate

This morning I woke up to a cold, dark, windy, rainy day and decided that today would be the perfect day for hot chocolate. My Facebook friends agreed, so I knew it must be a good idea. I tucked a couple packets of Kroger brand Dutch Cocoa into my purse to take along to school with me. (Kroger Dutch cocoa is much tastier than the Swiss Miss cocoa we have at school, in my opinion.)

I arrived at school and got all set up to watch my morning care kiddos; then I headed into the kitchen. I grabbed a styrofoam cup and emptied the contents of my cocoa packet into it. That was pretty easy. Then I took a spoon and headed around the corner to the hot water dispenser. I began filling my cup with the hot water. I must have been cold, because I got a shiver and my hand shook resulting in hot water pouring onto my left hand and down my sleeve. It was so hot that I quickly jumped which resulted in spilling all my hot chocolate down the front of my skirt and onto the floor. *sigh*

Naturally, I now have a dilemma. Do I run to the sink and flush my hand and arm with cold water, or do I first attempt to get the hot chocolate out of my skirt? Of course, I opted to save my skirt. I mean, I do have to wear it in front of judgmental high school kids for the remainder of the day! Fortunately, it's a black skirt, so it didn't take too long to hide the hot chocolate. So I got the hot chocolate out of my skirt,  got my hand and arm cooled off with some cold water, and got the mess cleaned up off the floor. But I still wanted hot chocolate. It's a good thing I was prepared and brought two packets!!

Let's try this again. Empty contents into cup--check. Dispense hot water into cup without spilling on yourself--check. Stir--check. Add marshmallows--uh-oh.

I don't always go for marshmallows in my hot chocolate (although I am quite the marshmallow connoiseur), but I figured after my ordeal I certainly deserved them. Mrs. Fleming knows I like marshmallows in my cocoa once in a while so she always keeps a bag on hand for me. (Okay, okay, I'm sure she doesn't buy them just for me, but it makes me feel special to think so.) Anyhow, I grabbed the bag of marshmallows. It had already been opened, but had been twisted shut with a baggie tie. I removed the baggie tie and started to untwist the bag. Before I knew what was happening, marshmallows were flying everywhere. (Did you know that marshmallows seem to have a little bounce to them???) Apparently the bag had been torn clear down the side and it only looked like it was closed up with a baggie tie. *sigh* At least the whole bag didn't spill.

Anyhow, after I cleaned up my mess, I carefully added marshmallows (the ones from the bag, not the floor) to my hot chocolate, which was now more like warm chocolate. So it took me a little while to get my hot chocolate made, and I had a few mishaps; but, boy, I must say that was some good hot chocolate!!

I Want a Leaf Globe

When I was a kid, I thought snow globes were so beautiful. Actually, I still think that. What's prettier than watching snow gently swirl quietly around a pretty winter landscape? You know--some pine trees, a deer or two, little red cardinals sitting on evergreen boughs, etc. Okay, okay, you're probably thinking that there are a lot of things prettier than that, but you catch my snowdrift.

Anyhow, as I was drivng home from church this afternoon, a brilliant idea popped into my head--at least, I think it's brilliant. Here it is:

Somebody needs to make a LEAF GLOBE.

That's right, my friends. . . a leaf globe. I was just struck by the sight, the sound, the smell of the leaves swirling around the pretty autumn landscape today. (Today was a bit breezy, I must say.) It was absolutely beautiful. And tonight coming home from church I observed the same scene, except everything was bathed in the light of the full moon. It was mesmerizing.

Of course, some modifications would have to be made to a leaf globe that a snow globe doesn't have. For instance, the leaf globe would need to make a rusltling sound as the leaves swirled. Snow is silent, but leaves are not. And you'd have to hear the howl of the wind. And it would need to smell like leaves. And it it would be really cool if it lit up to recreate moonbeams.

If anybody has any expertise in making snow globes, please try to make me a leaf globe. I want one. :-)  

A Delightful Day

This is a poem that was written for Rachel and me by Mama C.C, one the residents at the nursing home we play at. Our hearts are always blessed by her sweet, cheerful disposition. :-)

A Delightful Day

The seventeenth of September

Is a great day to remember;

For me, there can't be any other

Way for childless me to "mother."

Better then to give each special song

I once sang, to two sweet girls, who, long

After I am gone, will sing on!

                                                       Lovingly,

                                                                                                          Mama CC

Overcoming Writer's Block

Crazy buffaloes! It's been over a month since I last posted! I would apologize, but an apology would assume that I have done the world (or at least my readers) a disservice by not posting anything lately on my blog. In reality, I should probably apologize for the many minutes of your life that are wasted when I do actually post something new and you take the time to read it. However, for those of you who actually enjoy reading my blog, I apologize for the few seconds of your life that have been wasted lately when you've checked my blog only to find that there's not been anything new. This post is for you. :-)

So why haven't I posted anything lately? Well, to be honest, I've been busy. And being busy triggers my writer's block. How? Well, anytime I have a good idea to write about, I'm too busy to write about it. And then I forget it. The obvious solution to this problem would be to jot down my ideas as soon as I think of them and then go back later to write about them when I have the time, right? Of course. But the problem runs much deeper than not writing the ideas down as I think of them. . . I can't write the ideas down! I am incapable of writing the ideas down at the moment I think of them. You see, my problem is that my best ideas come at the most inopportune times: when I'm sleeping, walking, or showering.

Sometimes, I wake up thinking to myself, Wow, that was a good idea! I should write about that! But as soon as I think of that, my mind blanks and I totally forget what it was that was such a great idea. I used to be conviced that I never dream. Now, however, I'm convinced that I just plain forget all my dreams. On the other hand, sometimes at night as soon as my head hits the pillow, all kinds of great ideas rush to my mind. I could turn on my light and grab the notebook on my bedstand and write down the ideas as they come to me, but this solution means that I would never get any sleep. As soon as I wrote down an idea and turned the light off to go to sleep, another idea would pop into my head and I'd have to turn the lights on again to write it down. It would be a never ending cycle.

Walking always seems to generate good ideas in my head. Now, you'd think that it would be easy to write down ideas that I think of as I'm walking. Wrong. I am a very uncoordinated person. Walking and writing at the same time just doesn't work for me.

I've also noticed that I think of a lot of good ideas when I'm in the shower. Now, we all know that you can't take paper into the shower for obvious reasons. And by the time I get out of the shower and am all dried off, my ideas have left my head. I guess the obvious solution to this problem would be bathtub crayons. With bathtub crayons I could write my ideas all over the sides of the shower. Might not be a bad idea. . . but then my roommate who showers later could see all my ideas and steal them!! No, bathtub crayons are a bad idea.

Sigh. It seems the best solution to overcome writer's block is to write about writer's block itself. I guess that's what I just did.

New Posts Coming. . .

. . . eventually. I have a list of ideas to blog about, but blogging's not high on the priority list right now. Sleep, however, is.

This Day in History. . .

Okay, okay. So maybe it doesn't classify as history since it was only a year ago and I'm not really a famous or significant person, but one year ago today my wrist looked like this:

I normally don't like to toot my own horn, but what you may not know is that this funky looking wrist is the product of a sacrificial, heroic feat that should someday be included in the history books. On September 13th, 2010, Rachel and I were cruisin' along the trail at Freeman Park on the new Rollerblades my friends had bought me for my birthday. (Well, we weren't both on my Rollerblades; Rachel had her own pair. . . but you know what I mean.) After we had gone most of the length of the trail, we came to a hill. As we were descending the hill in high style, some elderly folks who must've been hard of hearing crossed our path. Not having enough time to stop and not wanting to run over them, Rachel and I risked our lives and purposely crashed into the side of the trail. The old people were safe!! We were heroes!!

Okay, okay. Maybe that's not exactly how it happened. Actually, the funky looking wrist is the product of my fear and stupidity, which is generally not a very good combination. Let's rewind to an hour before Rachel and I set out on our Rollerblading expedition. I was talking on the phone to my mom, telling her that Rachel and I were getting ready to go out Rollerblading.

"Oh, Honey! Do you have a helmet??"

"No, Mom. I'll be fine. I remember your tips on how to safely roll off a sled when I see I am about to hit a tree. I'll bet it works for Rollerblading, too."

"Okay. Well, do you have wrist guards? You don't want to break a wrist. You wouldn't be able to play the violin and dulcimer anymore."

"Mom, I'll be okay. If I fall, I'll make a point not to put my hands out to catch myself."

"How will you catch yourself then?"

"I'll just let my body fall and roll."

"Then you'll need a helmet, dear. I don't want you to break your fall with your head."

"Mom, I'll be fine. We'll go very slowly."

"Okay, Honey. You know I worry about you. Just be careful."

"I will. Love you."

"Love you, too, Sweetie."

So Rachel and I head out on our Rollerblades with no helmets or wrist guards. The trail at Freeman Park is pretty flat, so we were doing pretty well on the Rollerblades. About halfway around the trail, we stopped at a bench because I needed to adjust one of my Rollerblades. I sat down to make the necessary adjustments. As I was doing so, my good friend Melissa sent me a text message:

"How's the Rollerblading going?"

"It's great!! I haven't broken anything yet!"

"That's good! Well have fun and be safe!!"

"Thanks!"

So Rachel and I continue on. Soon we come to a hill. (Yes, I am aware that I have swtiched to present-tense verbs. I feel they are more effective at this point in my narrative.)

"Umm. . . Rachel, do you think we should attempt to go down this hill?"

"Sure. We'll take it easy."

"Rach, I don't know how to use my brakes."

"It'll be fine. I'll go in front."

"O-k-k-kay."

Rachel takes off down the hill. I follow. Rachel is keeping a nice, steady pace. I, however, start accelerating very quickly. Too quickly.

"RACHEL!!!! I CAN'T STOP!!!"

"Calm down, just turn your foot a little and let it drag. It will slow you down."

"AGGHHHH!!!! I CAN'T STOP!!!"

"Kim, don't panic. You're doing great."

"AAAGGGGHHHH!!! THERE ARE PEOPLE DOWN THERE!! I'M GOING TO HIT THEM!!"

"Kim! No, you're not. Just slow down. Don't panic."

"AAAAGGGHHH!! I CAN'T STOP! I'M PANICKING!!"

"Kim, you're being dramatic. Calm down."

"MOVE, PEOPLE!! I'M GOING TO HIT YOU!!! AAAGGGHHHH!!!"

The four, obviously hard-of-hearing old people keep walking, blocking the entire width of the path.

At this point I catch up to Rachel and grab her in a bear hug as I pass her. We both spin around two or three times before hitting the pavement, rolling over one another as we tumble down the hill. We come to a stop at the bottom of the hill, and the old people continue walking, oblivious to the whole spectacle.

A nice man comes running and asks us if we're okay. We start to get up. Rachel gets up almost immediately. I roll over and attempt to push myself up. I get up on my knees and notice that my wrist looks a little funny.

"Oh my. I think my wrist is broken. I think my wrist is broken! It's broken! I just know it's broken!!"

"Kim, you don't know that. Calm down. Just calm down."

"Rachel! Look at it!"

She looks at it.

"Oh dear. Okay. I know where the emergency room is!"

At this point, I'm cradling my wrist while the nice guy and his wife take my Rollerblades off. Rachel runs back to the car to get my shoes. When she returns, I'm up on my feet and we begin walking to the car. I feel very nauseated at this point.

On the way to the ER, I'm trying to hold my cookies and not cry at the same time. When we arrive, we walk up to the desk and I almost pass out. Some nurse gets me a wheel chair and rolls me into triage. The room is very messy and one of the guys rummages through the junk on his desk and finds a magazine that's buried under a McDonald's bag. He wraps the magazine around my wrist and tapes it. Then he asks me a few questions.

"When's your birthday?"

"September 13th."

"Oh, that's today! Happy birthday."

"Thanks."

"What's your height?"

"Five-eight"

"Weight?"

"Mumble, mumble, mumble."

"Allergic to anything?"

"Ragweed."

"Um. Okay. Allergic to any medications?"

"Benadryl knocks me out, but I think that's a normal side effect."

"Um. Okay. Thanks. Does anything else besides your wrist hurt?"

"Nope." (Knowing that I was heading for X-rays next, I wasn't about to tell him that my tailbone was hurting!)

He finishes his questions and says, "Okay. You're free to go."

Umm. . . a magazine?? For a splint?? Are you serious?? What kind of place is this?! I'm going to be charged a  few thousand bucks and they wrap a magazine around my wrist?? Rachel assures me it's just a temporary splint while I'm in the waiting room to go back for X-rays.

As we're sitting in the waiting room, Rachel makes a few phone calls to let people know that we're in the hospital. At this point I'm in a lot of pain. Rachel asks me if she can get me anything. I tell her I'm thirsty. She goes to the front desk and asks for some water. The lady nicely tells her that I'm not allowed to drink anything. That makes me mad.

We wait FOREVER.

A nurse comes out.

"LaShonda Moore?" [DISCLAIMER: This name and the following names are made up.]

We look around. No one is getting up. I pipe up hopefully, "I'm Kimberly Moore."

"No. I need LaShonda Moore."

sigh

Eventually a lady comes running into the room. "Sorry. I needed to get a drink."

(SHE gets a drink?? That's not fair.)

So we continue waiting.

The same nurse comes out again.

"Bertha Moore?"

Again, no one moves.

"I'm Kimberly Moore!"

"No. I need Bertha Moore."

sigh

Bertha hears her name and puts her magazine aside and follows the nurse.

And we wait some more (moore???)

The nurse comes out again.

"Julius Moore?"

No one moves. I look around.

"Are you sure you don't mean Kimberly Moore?"

"No, honey, I meant Julius Moore. Julius Moore?? Is there a Julius Moore in here?"

Julius gets up and follows the nurse.

Sigh. The whole Moore family must be here for some reason. I wonder if maybe it's carbon monoxide poisoning or something.

Finally the nurse calls, "Kimberly Moore?"

"Do you mean me?"

"Are you Kimberly Moore?"

"Yes."

"Then I mean you."

"Good. I'm not related to those other people."

"I know." The nurse rolls her eyes.

I'm pushed back to X-rays. The nurse says it's okay for Rachel to come with me. We get back to the X-ray station. There's some young cocky blonde guy sitting at the desk eating his supper. The nurse informs him he has a patient.

"Good. I'm bored.I need some entertainment."

He pushes me back to the X-ray room.

"So what happened?"

"I broke my wrist."

"How'd you do that?"

"I was Rollerblading."

"Why were you Rollerblading?"

"Um. Because I wanted to."

"Did you fall?"

"Uh, yes."

"You're not supposed to fall."

"Um. I know."

"So why'd you fall?"

"I don't know!! Because I wanted to, maybe?!!"

At this point, I'm getting rather perturbed at his attempts to be funny. I'm in a lot of pain and I just want somebody to do something to make my wrist feel better.

He takes 40 million X-rays of my wrist. As he's looking at the X-rays in the other room, I hear him say, "Woah. That doesn't look good."

"Cool. Look at that!"

"Ooh. Gross. That's nasty."

Again, I panic.

He comes out and and I ask him, "Am I going to need surgery?"

"Definitely."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, yeah. You did a doozy on your wrist."

"When will I have it?"

"Tonight."

"Oh, no! Oh, no! I don't want surgery! I can't have surgery!"

I begin to cry. I've never been to an emergency room, and I've never had to have surgery!! This was not good news. Rachel tells the guy that he is NOT funny.

Finally, the cocky blonde guy takes compassion on me and tries to comfort me. He apologizes for joking around with me when it was obviously an inappropriate time. Another guy (who's much nicer) rolls me into another room where my wrist is examined.

The nice lady in the bright room gives me some pain killers. Those make me happy. Very happy. I ask her if I really have to have surgery tonight.

"What?? No! Who told you that?!"

"The X-ray guy."

"Girl, pay no attention to him. He's a jerk."

Needless to say, I was very relieved. I was even more relieved when my mommy-away-from-home mommy arrived at the hospital. I guess Rachel must have called her. It is comforting to have someone who's like a mom be with you when you're traumatized and your real mom can't be there.

The nurse puts my arm in a real, honest-to-goodness splint, tells me to call the orthopaedic doctor in the morning to make arrangements for getting my bones reset and having a real cast put on, and sends me off with a prescription for pain killers.

So Rachel, Mommy-away-from-home mommy, and I head out to the parking lot (I got to ride the wheel chair again!!) and head off to get my prescription. We get the prescription and take Mommy-away-from-home mommy back to her car. Then Rachel and I head home where Dawn is waiting with my birthday cake:

As you can see, pain killers and chocolate cake make me very happy. The moral of the story? Don't go Rollerblading. And if you do go Rollerblading, make sure you have great friends who will take you to the ER and give you cake when you return home.