French Horns and Letter-Writing

I've been on somewhat of a French horn kick lately. Someone once told me that the French horn could produce the most beautiful sound of any instrument, and I heartily disagreed (I'm not sure what I offered as a counter-example). But that may have been because, at the time, I was in high school, and therefore only knew high school French horn players. In any case, I've come to realize the true merits of that gorgeous sound - and lately, I go all to pieces listening to any song with a pretty horn part.

I blame:
(a) Adrienne
(b) John and Jared playing "You Can Call Me Al"
(c) The Mormon Tabernacle Choir

No, truthfully, I'm not sure what it is. There's more to it than that. Perhaps partly owing to the fact that a good brass section has the power to make me feel like my soul's been turned inside out and upside down, in a good way. Perhaps...well.

I do love the MTC's Christmas album, though, even if every single song is overly dramatic to the max. It's sort of fun that way. My nominations for the top two best Christmas albums of all time, though, are Vince Guaraldi (the soundtrack to the Charlie Brown Christmas special) and the Robert Shaw Chorale (I think it's called The Many Moods of Christmas). Manhattan Transfer and Boston Pops get honorable mention.


Around this time, I always think of the last time I saw Jill, four years ago. Jill was my first piano teacher, when I was six years old and she was in high school. Now she's married and in the Air Force, though I'm fairly certain she doesn't fly anymore for medical reasons. In any case, here's someone who had a profound impact on my life - the first person to nurture my musical potential - and we've completely lost touch. And with the rest of my teachers, it's the same story - Mrs. Thon, the incredibly sweet (and small) Japanese woman who taught me piano from age seven through high school; Stephanie, my influential first sax teacher whom I absolutely worshipped; and even Chris, my last sax teacher, who pushed me musically more than anyone else before him. Haven't talked to any of them in years. That's depressing. Then I think of someone like Mike, one of my two closest childhood friends - we only talk when we happen to be at church together. I know we still have a lot in common; the issue isn't that we don't enjoy each other's company.

And here I am again, putting off writing a letter to my penpal in Norway, to whom I haven't written in over a year. Why am I so miserable at staying in touch? Are all of my relationships destined to be dependent on proximity? I know my mom has the same problem; we were talking about it just the other day. It's sort of a terrifying thought, especially knowing that after college, my friends and I might end up scattered across the globe.

One of the goals on my "wants" list this semester (more about that later) was "to master the art of letter-writing." Looks like I'd better get going.

To Sing the Praises of the Diva Cup

So I finally got around to trying the Diva Cup that's been lying around, waiting for me to gather the courage to put the darn thing in. And I'm already completely sold. I feel like a new woman! Seriously, though, if you haven't already, run out and get one immediately. The amount of waste produced by years and years of menstrual products - multiply that by alllllllllllll the women who use them - is pretty appalling. But with Diva's help, I am on my way to a greener lifestyle. (Side note: this is part of my larger effort to stop being a schmuck and do things like recycle vigorously, waste less electricity, and so on and so forth).

Yes, the thing gets you more in touch with your inner workings than perhaps you'd like to be. But you know what? I think that's a good thing. Case in point: the first time I emptied it, my first thought was "ugh, gross." But then my immediate second thought was "oh...pretty!" It's making me laugh just thinking about it, because it sounds so corny, but my feelings toward my period are honestly more positive than they've ever been. And as a bonus, it doesn't make me feel like my organs are being stabbed, like tampons do when I've got cramps. If you're not already sold, the coup de grace: it only needs emptying once or twice a day.

I can't believe I didn't catch on to this earlier. It feels like I've just joined a cult or something...hah.

And now for something completely different:

I found this little guy in the basement the other day; apparently it was my dad's when he was a kid. His pants are a bit moth-eaten, but Schroeder has always been my favorite and I was pretty excited to find him. The Beethoven sweater just kills me. After washing him off and setting him aside to dry, I later looked over to see that he was warming his hands by the fire.

Continued Christmas Festivities

I'm still in the Christmas spirit - and probably will be until sometime mid-January when the spirit(s) of "Sarah's Birthday Month" takes over - so here are more pictures and stories from the past week.

It didn't really feel like Christmas until sometime Christmas Eve, probably because this month has been so stupidly filled with mono and finals that I didn't go to a single Advent service and wrote about half as many holiday cards as I usually do. Also, I didn't finish my 20-page anthro research paper until Sunday the 21st, so by the time Christmas rolled around I was just figuring out how to relax. But that night we went to DJ and Carol's house in Hartford for a Christmas party, which was a blast. I didn't know most of the people there, other than the Smith-Horns, but it was still a lot of fun - the only thing that would have made it better is if Mr. Prenetta had showed up. This is going to sound strange, but it sort of reminded me that good times with friends don't stop when you're young - adults my parents' age know how to have fun, classy parties with the best of them. Also, everyone was wearing Christmas sweaters, which was awesome. At some point we started singing Christmas carols, accompanied by Carol on accordion and DJ on trumpet.

The boys are totally enthused about the singing.

Everyone crowds around the piano to sing.

Mom and Lisa share a laugh.

Rosie is officially the cutest Christmas pup.

Our lovely accompanists!

This was followed by the always-beautiful Christmas Eve service at church, complete with a singing of "Silent Night" by candlelight. The next morning we did presents, lazed around, and had the grandparents over for dinner. All the usual Christmas movies were watched (including It's a Wonderful Life, which leaves me in tears no matter how many times I see it), but the real highlight of the week was going to see A Christmas Carol at the Hartford Stage - the sort of "Christmas present for the whole family." It was a real spectacle and I can see why it's so popular every year. Flying ghosts! Snow falling from the ceiling! Cross-dressing humor! The play had it all. Fun for all ages.

Afterward we had a bit of a family photo shoot.

I won't make any comments about height.

The classic "three generations" shot with my two favorite women.

The most exciting gift I received for Christmas was a webcam from my brother! If you have one too, let me know and we can video chat on Skype! I'm having so much fun playing around with it.

First post! Merry Christmas!

As a Christmas present to myself, I'm starting a blog. Hurrah! It probably won't be terribly interesting all the time, but will be nice for people who are far away to get a sense of what I'm up to. And in the event of an adventure, things will surely pick up.

Let's start off right with pictures of (a) my new haircut and (b) my cat under the Christmas tree. My hair is probably shorter than it's been since sixth grade, and I love it - and the tree is gorgeous as always because I decorated it. The cat is, um, always really cute.

Another view:
And there's my little Jenny.

In other news, my cousin got engaged yesterday! Congratulations, Becky! I'm so excited, I've already had a bizarre(ly stressful) wedding dream.