Music soothes the savage beast

Boy, that daylight savings time was a killer this morning, wasn't it?  For those who have to get up early, which is bad enough, it's a senseless change forced on our body clocks every spring.  John declares (and I know this is true since I've lived with him for 20 years) that he will be grumpy for the next three weeks until he "gets used to it." But he never does, really.

He wasn't grumpy yet on Sunday, because we were at Seattle Opera in the 10th row main floor watching La Boheme, my favorite opera.  He bought the extravagant tickets as a Christmas present-- usually in Benayora Hall we sit up on the third tier peering down on the stage, which is fine too, but it's fun to be in the ritzy section sometimes, no binoculars required.

La Boheme is the most beloved opera for all the right reasons, and it's been called a "gateway drug to operatic addiction."  This was true in my case; I've been listening to it my entire adult life and it's the only opera I know so well I can take or leave the English subtitles.

During the last scene change they left the curtain open while the opera education director explained what was going on.  In this picture they are hauling off a snowdrift. Maybe they got this idea from the live MET broadcasts, but it was also family day at the opera and there were some activities for kids during the two intermissions.  There's usually just one intermission in this relatively short opera, so our only complaint was the extra break chopped up the emotional flow of the story.

We had a nice time.  We came home afterwards and ate leftover roast chicken, which was probably better than any meal you can get at a restaurant near the Seattle Center.

Then last night we watched a Netflix movie called A Late Quartet, not be confused with Dustin Hoffman's new movie called "Quartet."  It was more about the suppressed emotions and competing egos of the group than the music, but was entertaining in a melodramatic way.

A few weeks ago this poem called String Quartet came across on the Writer's Almanac.  For people like me who like to talk (and unfortunately, often interrupt) the poet does a good job of  describing the experience of a string quartet as a perfect "conversation."

String Quartet
Carl Dennis

Art and life, I wouldn't want to confuse them.
But it's hard to hear this quartet
Without comparing it to a conversation
Of the quiet kind, where no one tries to outtalk
The other participants, where each is eager instead
To share in the task of moving the theme along
From the opening statement to the final bar.

A conversation that isn't likely to flourish
When sales technicians come trolling for customers,
Office-holders for votes, preachers for converts.
Many good people among such talkers,
But none engaged like the voices of the quartet
In resisting the plots time hatches to make them unequal,
To set them at odds, to pull them asunder.

I love the movement where the cello is occupied
With repeating a single phrase while the others
Strike out on their own, three separate journeys
That seem to suggest each prefers, after all,
The pain and pleasure of playing solo. But no.
Each near the end swerves back to the path
Their friend has been plodding, and he receives them
As if he never once suspected their loyalty.

Would I be moved if I thought the music
Belonged to a world remote from this one,
If it didn't seem instead to be making the point
That conversation like this is available
At moments sufficiently free and self-forgetful?

And at other moments, maybe there's still a chance
To participate in the silence of listeners
Who are glad for what they manage to bring to the music
And for what they manage to take away.

Big Sis, Little Sis

Nova

Here's something fun-- pictures of Nova and Maya at about the same age in the same bouncy seat.  Amanda was saying the other day that she didn't think they looked much alike-- ha!

Maya

I mean, really...

How cute is this?

 

Amanda, thanks for making our day.

Weeknight entertainment

The House of Cards is an original TV series produced and distributed by Netflix.  On February 1, Netflix released all 13 episodes at once to their customers on streaming video. New mini-series are usually doled out over weeks, or else you wait a year or so for the DVD to be released.  In this case you can watch the entire first season of House of Cards in a straight marathon. And I suppose many people have-- this is addictive television. We've been watching a 50 minute episode each night this week.

If you like Kevin Spacey's acting or have the slightest interest in American politics, this is a must see. House of Cards  revolves around Frank Underwood (played wonderfully by Kevin Spacey), a southern Democrat and House majority whip.  When he is passed over for a promotion to secretary of state, he begins to plot revenge. One of his willing partners is Zoe Barnes (played by Kate Mara), a super-sleazy blogger! who lives in the saddest apartment on earth.

The nasty politics goes off in lavish offices, hotels and restaurants between impeccably dressed men and women.  The show has a wonderful visual feel, what I enjoy most about it.  The conversations are dense with deceit, but Spacey occasionally has terrific soliloquies like a Shakespeare character, when he looks right at the camera and reveals his Machiavellian thoughts.  Good stuff.

Back to reality

The Emergence of Spring

Artist unknown

It doesn't take long for that nice vacation feeling to fade away, once you get back to the home routine.  I'm thinking this morning about all those lucky retired people in Palm Springs who seem to be perpetually on vacation. Does it get boring, doing exactly as you please day after day in a sunny climate?  I think John would say, no.

The agenda today?  Organizing the taxes for the accountant and a trip to the gym (lolling around in mineral water doesn't exactly count as exercise.) I need to buy potting soil, compost, and seriously get to work outside.  I'm superstitious about certain things always being done by Easter, like cleaning the windows. Daylight savings time starts on the 10th, the official start of mowing season for John. I don't think the grass ever stopped growing this year.

The good news is I'm actually starting to feel like exercising again, so maybe all that lazy California "hydrotherapy" was good for the ankle.  There is an old saying: sometimes the healing is in the ache. 

Eggplant salad

We can buy Mexican eggplants for about 99 cents right now.  Our favorite meal by far is eggplant Parmesan, but it's a pretty big chore for the cook with all the breading, frying, grating and then making the pasta with red sauce that has to go with it in this house.   So sometimes I'll just dice the eggplant and saute it with peppers and onion along with a can of tomatoes and Italian seasoning.  That makes a good side dish. But you start to run out of ideas on what to do with an eggplant.

The Costco magazine had a recipe for a "Moroccan Eggplant Salad" that was interesting.  The eggplant cubes are mixed with egg white before you fry, which seemed to help them brown instead of getting soggy. Eggplant soaks up oil like a sponge and the recipe called for 1/2 cup oil, which is quite a bit, but the pieces are drained on paper towel and no additional oil is added for the dressing. You can tinker with the seasoning, but the ingredient list goes like this:

1 eggplant, cut into cubes
Salt
1 egg white
1/2 cup olive or grapeseed oil
1/2 cup roasted red peppers from the jar (chopped)
1/2 cup chopped green olives
1/2 tsp. cumin
1/4 cup lemon juice
1 smashed garlic clove
Fresh parsley, chopped

Sprinkle the eggplant with salt and then mix in a bowl with the beaten egg white.  Fry in hot oil until brown and tender, then drain the pieces on paper towel.

Mix the fried eggplant with the remaining ingredients...

And it will look like a specialty salad from a fancy deli or restaurant.
The next day with leftovers I made myself a delicious lunch with one of those mostly worthless "sandwich thins."  Toasted, with a dab of hummus on top.