Wednesday, Jun 13, 2012 | Dream, Music, Siblings, Work |
Today is brag-about-my-brother day. My brother Karl is the youngest of my three brothers (I also have a sister who is the youngest of us five siblings). I was seven-and-a-half when he was born, and there’s a fabulous photo floating around somewhere of me on my red bicycle with baby Karl plopped in the basket on the handlebars, with my mom, another brother, and my best friend Katie all posed around us, every last one of us grinning with delight; ah, the freedom of the early 1980s. Karl also spent a lot of time being swaddled and stuffed into my toy baby carriage — for a big sister, what could be better than a real live baby to play with?
As he grew, Karl demonstrated tenacity and an outsized will. He was always a tiny child, but absolutely fierce.
He wasn’t interested in school or academics. But he was talented at many things, including playing the drums, among many other instruments. Somewhere along the line, he and my brother Clifford acquired equipment for recording and producing music at home. There was the studio in my parents’ basement, lined with egg cartons; and a portable studio that he could set up anywhere.
And now he has his own studio, out in the country, with a wall of windows overlooking fields.
What makes me most proud of my brother Karl is that he knew he wanted to make music. He knew it was what he wanted to do with his life. And so he set about becoming a musician, no matter that others might have wished for him a career that would promise greater financial stability and security. He’s worked incredibly hard. Fame has never been a motivator for him — what he loves to do is to make music. And as anyone who chooses the creative arts as a career knows, there are years of invisible, unseen labour and practice underlying any visible success.
Well, Karl’s had some success recently. His song, which is titled, simply, “Song,” is the music for Apple’s new MacBook Pro commercial, on television and online, worldwide. Click here to listen to the entire song. And if you like it, you can get the entire Kidstreet album on iTunes. (Kidstreet is made up of my brothers Karl and Cliff, and my sister Edna; all of them talented musicians.)
To see Karl’s work and talent appreciated on this level makes me just ridiculously proud. I will try to restrain myself from running up and down the streets whooping with delight.
Instead, I’d like to make a toast to everyone who chooses to a pursue a dream, against the odds, and despite the heartbreaking challenges along the way. Join me? All I’ve got this morning is a cup of coffee.
Cheers!
Karl, you’ve made something beautiful.
Tuesday, Jun 12, 2012 | Exercise, Soccer, Spirit |
For a long time, I’ve thought of myself as someone who doesn’t like participating in team sports. But it had been so many years since I’d even attempted a team sport that I couldn’t remember why. And I love watching my children play team sports, and have observed the wonderful potential for camaraderie and intensive learning. So … this spring, when the opportunity arose to join a women’s soccer team, I signed up without hesitation.
At first, I thought the difficulty was going to be the fact that I hadn’t played organized soccer since the age of ten. But I’ve been watching a lot of excellent soccer over the past few years, and I’m physically fit, and a quick learner — and our team welcomes beginners. So that hasn’t been an issue.
What I realized after last night’s game is that there is another difficulty, one I’d forgotten, and it’s the reason I don’t like team sports.
Actually, I do like team sports. I love playing on a team. The problem is that I’m not always a fabulous team player. The problem, in other words, is me. Team sports don’t like me.
For years, I suppressed my competitive nature, and only began embracing it again when I took up running and signed up for races. Wow, this is actually fun, thought I; and wondered why on earth I’d suppressed such an essential part of myself. In fact, I embraced my competitive nature so thoroughly that I forgot what I’d disliked about it in the first place — and let’s just say there was good reason for that suppression.
Here’s why: Because competition brings out an adrenalin-fuelled intensity in my personality that can be extremely unpleasant. Nope, it’s worse than that. It can be ugly.
In individual competition, there’s no problem: the only one I’m being hard on is myself, and for reasons probably best discussed with a therapist, being hard on myself brings out my best effort. But on a team, competitive intensity, handled badly, just sucks. Basically, I’m transferring expectations about my own level of intensity to everyone around me. What I seem to demand of myself, and therefore of teammates, is maximum effort — forget being there for fun, apparently I just want to win. Honestly, if this team sports thing is going to work out, I need to figure out how to dial this aspect of my personality down, and fast. Also, I need to shut up. There’s nothing wrong with having high expectations for myself; but in a team setting, positive feedback is the only feedback worth giving.
(And I need to get off the field without complaint when I’m subbed out! Good grief. It was one little moment in Sunday’s game, but honestly, in that moment I behaved like an ass.)
You know, on the surface, it was a good game on Sunday evening — we won for the first time this season, and I scored the only goal of the game, and it was a very nice goal, put together with the help of excellent teamwork. But I came home feeling yucky. Realizing that I’d let my competitive nature take over; realizing that I wanted too badly to win and was willing to fight inappropriately toward that end.
So I guess my question is: Can I change? Can I, ahem, mature? Can I become a good teammate?
In some ways, I hate how the learning never seems to end. In other ways, I’m glad for it. Life has a way of shaving off my hubris, and keeping me humble. Ugh. It’s no fun being kept humble, even if it’s good medicine.
But I’m hopeful. It’s not all bad news. I really like being coached and getting feedback and criticism on my play — probably shaped by years of appreciating the writer/editor relationship, which is based on necessary criticism and mutual trust. And I really want to keep playing on a team, and improving — everything. Skills, fitness, but especially attitude. Especially that. I’ll report back.
Monday, Jun 11, 2012 | Recipes |
veggies off the bbq
Monday’s menu:: Puttanesca sauce. Canned tuna. Pasta.
New food!:: At last, a new recipe! I’ve been making the same tomato sauce for pasta for, well, a decade. I was looking to add protein to the meal (not tofu, and not hamburger), and went looking through my favourite Joy of Cooking for ideas. This sauce is traditionally made with anchovies. I substituted tuna, and served it on the side (one kid LOATHES seafood). We happened to have capers and black olives on hand. This was a very popular meal.
The recipe:: Puttanesca sauce (adapted from Joy of Cooking)
In olive oil, saute chopped garlic and onion (or garlic scapes and green onions, as the season dictates) with one dried hot pepper. (Note: remove pepper before husband inadvertantly eats it; sorry, hon.) Stir in 1 cup of chopped and pitted oil-cured black olives and 1 teaspoon dried oregano, and cook briefly. Stir in one jar of canned tomatoes, and one can of tomato paste, and let simmer for about 5 minutes. (If sauce is too thick, add some liquid.) Stir in chopped parsley (fresh or frozen), 2 tablespoons drained capers, and 1 tablespoon cider vinegar. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
Tuesday’s menu:: Chili with hamburger. Steamed rice.
Whither the veggies?:: Yes, this meal could have stood a salad on the side; in my defence, the chili was studded with lots of corn and tomatoes.
Fast food:: It was a crazy day, and I had approximately twenty minutes to whip together a supper that we could eat before departing, en masse, to our Tuesday series of soccer games. I thawed a container of chili (thank heavens for leftovers), added browned hamburger, and steamed the rice. We ate like we were in a race, abandoned the meal on the table, and enjoyed a happy evening on sunny soccer fields.
Wednesday’s menu:: Grilled breakfast sausages. Grilled veggies. Leftover pasta and sauce.
Kevin in charge:: I had a reading so Kevin took over the menu planning and prep. We were glad that the BBQ now sits on the back porch, under shelter, because a wild hailstorm blew through over the dinner hour.
Breakfast sausages, you ask?:: To which I reply, Yup. They were what we had in the freezer. And the theme of the week was: What’s in the freezer?
Thursday’s menu:: Udon noodles. Stir-fried veggies with tofu.
Unhappy children:: Nope, this was not a hit. I stir-fried the udon noodles separately to avoid a mushroom-mutiny, but still no one liked it. The noodles were bland. The tofu and mushrooms were treated with disdain. And it took me longer to cook than I’d estimated. So we were all unhappy, frankly, as this was another rushed evening of soccering.
Friday’s menu:: Black beans. Steamed rice. Avocado, cucumber, tomato salad. Tortillas, and tortilla chips. Yogurt and feta cheese. Asparagus salsa.
Seriously yummy:: The black beans and tortillas came from the freezer. Everything else was easily whipped up post-swim lessons. We were hosting family for the weekend, and this was the perfect welcoming feast. I tell you, people, you can’t go wrong with this meal.
:::
Weekend kitchen accomplishments:: Eight loaves of bread. I baked four on Saturday and four again on Sunday. Our supply in the freezer was getting low. And we ate a lot of bread over the weekend — a loaf for each breakfast, and another loaf for Sunday supper, which was BLTs. Now that’s a good supper. Though as you can see, we are not exactly vegetarian at present.
Breakfast specials:: Wanted to note, also, that Kevin has been making breakfast smoothies for the past couple of weeks. Hugely popular with the kids, if kind of messy (says the woman who generally oversees kitchen cleanup). The shakes include bananas, frozen fruit (yes, more food from the freezer), yogurt, a touch of milk, peanut butter, and ice.
Saturday, Jun 9, 2012 | Book Review, Music, Publishing, Soccer, Summer, Weather, Writing |
recital kids
Hello, weekend. Hello, rain.
I don’t mind. I feel indoorsy today, sleepy. A long run is planned for late this afternoon, but I prefer running in the cool damp than hot hot heat. I’m baking bread. I’m sipping a cup of coffee and opening the newspaper — and finding a review that I wrote on an essay anthology called In the Flesh (read it here.)
That’s an awfully lovely discovery after a weird writing week. (The dinosaur story got sent yesterday; an interview for another story due next week went well; but I got very little work done on my new novel. It’s always easier to set aside work for prospective payment in favour of work for guaranteed payment.)
Above, a photo of my well-dressed recital children. With the approach of summer holidays, we are coming to the end of lessons. Last piano lessons last week. Last swim lessons next week. Highland dance recital next weekend.
(Soccer, however, will go on. And on. No matter the rain. But it wouldn’t be summer without soccer, at our house …)
Friday, Jun 8, 2012 | Books, Chores, Reading, Readings, Sleep, Soccer, Weather, Work |
hail storm
Just before my reading yesterday (Wednesday) evening, the skies opened up. Talk about raining and pouring. And hailing. It was dramatic. Perhaps it purged my anxious mood, because by the time I got to the event at the library, everything felt magically relaxed. Or maybe that’s experience coming into play. After all, I have been reading and speaking in public on a fairly regular basis for the past few months.
A friend commented yesterday that she hoped I would find hidden value in my decade of at-home-with-children work; and there is no doubt it’s made me who I am.
I’m less self-conscious, for example. Any public outing involving infants, toddlers, preschoolers, and yes, even 11-year-olds, toughens the hide considerably. And my children have taught me how to ask for what I want — on many levels. If your child has ever been in need, you will discover within yourself reserves of grit and determination, you will knock on doors, you will be persistant and annoying and you won’t give a damn about being judged. On a different level, asking a child to do a task requires simple, straightforward communication. Forget fancy, forget dancing around a subject — state what needs doing in three words or less. So these are hidden assets I’ve gained over the years.
But other skills are rusty …
Alright, I started this post many hours ago, this is how far I got, and I’d like to finish it before bedtime. What has this crazy day held? I worked all day on a story on dinosaurs that is still not quite done. I set up an interview for tomorrow morning. I discovered we have a meeting at our eldest daughter’s new school early tomorrow morning; and that Kevin can’t attend due to work. I managed to make supper from scratch in about twenty minutes flat. Instead of eating it, I worked on the dinosaur story. Soccer girl and I biked to her soccer practice. The weather was gorgeous! I went for a run, and discovered speed — for the first three kilometres. And I hacked it out for the next two, and ran 5km in 23:38, my fastest time yet; and then I hacked out another kilometre and a bit, making it 6km in 28:52. (This is not record breaking time for anyone but me; but it felt good.) After soccer practice, the two of us stayed and practiced penalty shots — AppleApple in net, and me kicking. Addictively fun! Then we biked home. Dishes awaited. Laundry still on the line. Supper still on the table. Exhausted children to put to bed.
Man. I’m tired. I should not be typing, I should be reading in bed right now. I’m currently reading about the life of Edna St. Vincent Millay, and I spend a lot of time turning to my husband to report on the crazy things she’s getting up to. Did you know she was one of the most famous women in America in the 1930s? A poet! She sold 68,000 copies of a book of poems in eight weeks in the middle of the Depression.
More on Vincent to come, methinks.
For now, to sleep, perchance to dream.
