Posts Tagged With: Ukulele

With Bonus Miscellany

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Things I learned this week:

I’m not the one losing sleep at nights, but there is something about the small red tongue and dainty fingernails of an infant (wearing a gigantic bow) that makes it seem like sleeplessness would be worth it.  Especially when she is in the crook of your elbow and opens her big blue eyes to look at you.

The ukulele is infectious.  Both my aunt and a friend of mine bought one and are learning to play it. Evidently, the infection only spreads to other females.  We’re trying to convert my mother.

You know those employees you were told you really shouldn’t trust?  Yeah, you really shouldn’t trust them.

It is not editing five chapters a week that is hard.  It is making yourself sit down to write anything at all that is the real struggle.

Bonus miscellany – How can you tell you work at Disney? My boss just sent me an e-mail in which one of the lines was: “Damn chipmunks!  Always causing trouble.”

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Peter Cottontail

I know Easter is long past, but a friend of mine just posted this from our breakfast:

Casey and her Ukulele – Peter Cottontail

I learned to play it the night before, so be kind to me. 🙂

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Easter: 2013

Easter is tomorrow. I always take on too much and spend most of my day baking pies and spinach squares while simultaneously trying to put together a scavenger hunt for a pair of high-schoolers who are probably smarter than I am. I also try (usually unsuccessfully) not to panic. Brian calls it the Annual Easter Freak-Out. I am instructed not to have one ever year, and yet it never works out that way.

This year, I got a reprieve. My sister is bringing desert, Brian is providing an adult hunt that everyone can participate in, and I’m just on the hook for spinach squares and a vegetable. Amazing. Instead of baking all day, I spent most of it learning to play “Here Comes Peter Cottontail” on the ukulele. I bought supplies for spinach squares after 9:00pm, that’s how prepared I am. I made Brian come with me, and we realized in the parking lot that we didn’t have prizes for the hunt winners.

“We’re going to the grocery store. We can just pick up some chocolate bunnies or something, and we’ll be good to go,” I said.

“Or a gift certificate,” said Brian.

“We could do a gift certificate and a chocolate bunny,” I suggested.

“We could do a gift certificate IN a chocolate bunny!”

“What?!”

“See this is what we’ll do,” Brian said. “We’ll break the head off the bunny, shove the gift certificate inside, and then melt the head back on. It will be the best Easter prize ever!”

“Because nothing says Easter like Frankenstein bunnies,” I said.

“EXACTLY!!”

Somehow, I think this is going to be the best Easter ever…

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Random Things I Learned This Week:

One of my favorite history professors, a man in his seventies who prefers to be known as El Jefe, has a book of dirty limericks. It has been circulating around the department among the seniors. I have not seen said book yet, but I look forward to the day when I do.

The ukulele was everything I hoped it would be and more. AFP says “do not practice daily,” but I just can’t keep my hands off it. I can now play Radiohead’s Creep (ON THE UKULELE).

If left for too long in the refrigerator, baby carrots will grow roots. Even in Tupperware.

I’ve been making an effort to connect with more people, mostly by saying yes to things instead of “I’m too busy.” Turns out it’s easier than I thought it would be.

My classmates are awesome: We workshopped a story about a bunch of guys who shoot up downtown Orange with a bunch of Nerf guns because of the Zombie Apocalypse, and another (super vulgar) story about Monica Lewinsky and Bill Clinton. They were both hilarious.

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Ukulele Banish Evil

The yen for a uke started with Amanda F. Palmer. I watched a video of her ukulele anthem and fell in love with it. She was standing in a color blocked leather coat in a wintry square, singing and strumming to a crowd on a background of black steel and windows. They cheered, laughed, clapped in all the right places. “Stop pretending art is hard,” she sang, confident and beautiful, and the words hit my heart. Because art isn’t really all that hard when you think about it, it’s silencing the voices in your head that tell you your art is no good and you really shouldn’t bother that is difficult. I want to be able to sing that anthem and feel free.

In high school, there was a girl in the theater department who had a ukulele. She and I were good acquaintances – not friends exactly, but in that awkward place where you hang out in the same social groups but never quite make a connection. She would sit in the green room of the theater and play us a song she wrote entitled “I Want to Be a Bad Gangster.” With the bright ukulele for accompaniment, she would toss her blonde hair and declare her love of things like tricked out station wagons that jump up and down. We couldn’t get enough. I wish I remembered her name.

A ukulele can be packed into just about anywhere. It is not a tragedy if a twenty dollar uke gets dirty, or left behind, or accidentally damaged. I could decorate it with stickers and words like “stop pretending art is hard.” We could fall in love, my ukulele and me, and we could make music together everywhere.

That is my real vision: Brian and I clustered around the campfire at night, our gray dome tent pitched in the background, green plastic tablecloth on the decrepit picnic bench. A bag of marshmallows is open at my feet, and I have achieved the perfect marshmallow sugar coma. My heart is racing and I feel content. The orange light of the fire glistens off the face of my ukulele as I strum the strings with my sticky fingers. I sing something bright and funny, and then I sing a love song. The stars shine above us through the branches of the trees, and we are happy.

The Folk Music Store has a light blue one with a dolphin shaped bridge. I think I’ll bring it home this weekend.

If you’re interested, AFP’s Uke video is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7CBDqQ3UxmM

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