Happy Mardi Gras/St. Casimir's Day/Vivaldi's Birthday

 

This morning Travalon and I went to get our taxes done, and I felt like maybe I left a bit abruptly when my FitBit said I had ten minutes left to get my steps for the hour. We get a little back from the feds (someday?) but owe a little to the state, so we had the deduction set to go on Thursday, since that is my payday. It was all futile, because I missed my move hours somehow between 11-12, after doing a chaplet that usually gets me enough steps and failing to make sure, and then weirdly I was paid today so no need for the delay. I mentioned it on the chat at work, and several other coworkers were surprised to see they had also been paid, but apparently our credit union now puts the money from your paycheck into your account two days ahead of time. So that's cool. 

This evening, once I got back from adoration, Travalon and I went to Lola's for Mardi Gras. They had a special Mardi Gras menu of shrimp po' boys or gumbo, but they were out of the po' boys. I did get the gumbo, and Travalon got pelmenis, which were really delicious; he gave me a few, since my bowl of gumbo was very small, maybe because they were running out. Travalon had a tropical drink called an ornithology.

I always take Mardi Gras seriously because I take Lent seriously. In that spirit, we had the same dessert we'd had on my birthday, the chocolate pot de creme with lavender whipped cream, only instead of dark chocolate, now it's milk chocolate with caramel. Almost too much going on there; I liked the simplicity of the dark chocolate and the lavender, but this was still delicious. There was a DJ playing excellent music like the Squirrel Nut Zippers and Satchmo, and then she played a song I'd never heard before, "Ai No Corrida" by Chaz Jankel. I was eight years old when this song was released, and in all these years I'd never heard it. It's like he wrote it with me in mind: it's fast-paced, syncopated, minor key, and he sings in falsetto. I was so enchanted that I asked our waitress if I could tip the DJ. She didn't have a tip jar, so I just handed her what I had left from my own tip playing in Spring Green, and she lit up: "Nobody has ever given me a real tip before!" I said, "That last song was a revelation," and she told me what it was. (Which I already knew, since I'd asked Shazam.) That felt like some good karma, since the DJ is young and probably needs $5 way more than I do, since I have a day job that pays okay. Honestly, I often end up using my own tips to tip other musicians, since it's the only cash I usually have, and a lot of them do it for a living where it's just a hobby for me. So I have listened to "Ai No Corrida" about a hundred times tonight, and now I'm listening to Vivaldi, first his concerto in D minor for two violins, and now his concerto in B minor for four violins. 

I don't have much to say about St. Casimir, not being Polish, except that Ethel had a friend who named her daughter Casimir so she could call her Cassie, and we all thought that was kind of weird. Then again, that same woman had two daughters named Greta and Gretchen, so naming daughters was not her strong suit.

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Travalon's Mom's Funeral

 

This morning we went to get our taxes done, and Travalon was sure we would owe, but once again we got refunds. Then we drove to Oconomowoc for his mother's funeral. A bunch of people from Travalon's past were there, and some friends of his, and from Madison Richard Bonomo and Cecil Markovitch came. The service was a generic Christian one, and the part both Cecil and I found funniest was that the organ played the hymns all by itself - I've heard of a player piano, but not a player organ. Plus it kind of sounded like a ballpark organ. The hymns were, for the most part, ones I was vaguely aware of but not super familiar with, like they weren't Catholic ones. The hospice guy gave a really good eulogy, and then Travalon's oldest brother had written one that the minister read. It was a very pleasant, anodyne service, but the eulogies did paint a vivid picture of Travalon's mother. I definitely felt like a part of the family, because there were photos of me on the photo display. Even Ma and Pa Hat were on it.

Afterwards there was a reception with a fruit plate, vegetable plate, cookie plate, and bar plate, but people didn't consume too much. We were going to go to lunch at the fancy restaurant Travalon just found out is in the retirement home, but it had just closed. We ended up with a plate of reception food, a basket full of plants, and a box full of stuffies, but not the green dragon I'd seen in Travalon's mom's room. His oldest brother's wife did find two rosaries, a Seven Sorrows of Mary chaplet, and a very cool miraculous medal that she gave to me, as the only Catholic daughter-in-law. She also gave me a stunning Waterford crystal pin of a harp that Travalon had brought back from Ireland for his mom and that she apparently wore all the time, although I don't remember ever seeing her wear it. It's gorgeous. Photos soon...

Cecil had gone ahead to the closed restaurant, and of course he doesn't have a cell phone, so we were afraid he would find the place closed, get frustrated, and drive back to Madison. However, he couldn't find the restaurant, so he just checked out the beautiful lake and then came back, so he went to lunch in the old train depot with Rich, Travalon, and me. He covered Travalon's lunch, so Rich covered mine. While we were eating, the Empire Builder raced by right outside the restaurant, since of course that's where the tracks are. That was cool. 

When we got home, there was a package for me: the cuddly rosary from Ma Hat made with the yarn that supposedly glowed under blacklight. Of course I immediately tested it, and the results were fabulous.

Travalon suggested that I search for the green dragon online, so I did, and I couldn't find the one his mother had, but I found two much cooler ones, so I have used part of my gift card for jumping through health hoops. One was a Year of the Dragon Rabbit, which sounds weird but is so adorable, oh my goodness! I'll post a photo when it arrives. They were both a little bit pricy, but so was Duck, and it was no disappointment.

I ran around the house for a bit, since we hadn't gotten much exercise today, and then we went swimming, so now I feel a bit over-exerted. This week I've been averaging six minutes a day of vigorous exercise, which at first I thought was a real letdown, since I'd been aiming for eleven minutes, but then I thought, "Hey, I'm halfway there. I'm just working my way up." And who knows - today may have upped that average. I'll check soon.

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Minor Car Troubles and Even More Minor Taxes

 

Some time ago I had an unfortunate run-in with a snowbank while trying to avoid someone else, and then a couple of weeks ago I started hearing a strange noise from the front of my car. Where I had run into the snowbank, a part of the bumper was hanging down, but not the outer part, some inner part. I propped it back into place, but as soon as I started driving, it got loose again. Then Richard Bonomo tried to tape it up, but it immediately came loose again. Plus, as I was walking to my car after getting off the bus one evening, I heard a puzzling flapping sound... and then realized it was the tape, now loose and flapping in the wind. So today I dropped the car off at our neighborhood car repair shop before work, and the bus stopped right in front of the shop on my way home, so I went to get my car. They had secured the loose piece but were skeptical that it would hold... and sure enough, as I started driving home, I heard that same strange noise again. I guess this will never end until I get a whole new bumper. But I can't complain too much, since Noelle has been a trouble-free car until this episode that was totally not her fault.

This evening the condo association president and I did the taxes for our association. Now I have only done personal taxes, so this was a new thing for me. Our association gets a tiny bit of interest income on our savings account, and none of our income from dues are taxable, nor are our expenses deductible, because they are all used to run the association. So really it was much simpler than doing personal taxes, and we ended up owing the feds $6 and the state $2. All in all, a painless experience.

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Mandolin and Ukulele Weekend

I hope my readers had a good weekend. I had a very musical one, although it started with a more writing-oriented event. Thursday evening I was going to read more of my short stories, but the binder they were in had vanished. Our condo is not very big, and Travalon and I tore it apart, but we couldn’t find it anywhere. I began to cry, probably due to PMS, but then I decided to haul my ancient computer out of the garage… or, to be more precise, have Travalon do it for me, because it was too heavy for me to carry it. I set it up and found all my writing was still there, just waiting to be printed out again, so then I went to bed happy. Travalon soon joined me, and as he got into bed, he held up a purple binder: “What’s this?” My short stories! How had I not seen them?? I had even looked under the bed covers but somehow hadn’t seen it sitting on the top of them…? It was like I wasn’t allowed to see them until I had gotten my old computer ready for action again. So it seems like Someone is telling me to write again, but I’m not sure what to write. Waiting for further guidance…

Friday Travalon and I had our taxes done, then we went downtown and tried rolled ice cream for the first time. The macha ice cream with honey drizzle is really good. In the evening I got together with Jilly Moose and OK Cap to pray the rosary, then I had the great (?) idea to walk from Jilly Moose’s house to Gates and Brovi. It isn’t even a mile, but the night was cold, and then we had to wait quite a while for a table. However, the food was really good. I had whitefish and then a cup of clam chowder for “dessert.”

Saturday my band had our annual gig at the MacKenzie Nature Center for their pancake breakfast. Travalon came with me and had a good time hanging out with another bandmate’s husband. Most of the band wanted to take a break about 10:15, but our leader said no, 10:30. Just then the table right in front of us had some kind of joint failure and fell over, so all the people’s food fell all over. In the ensuing chaos I seized the chance to powder my nose, and even our leader realized at that point that nobody was going to be listening to us, so it was a perfect time for our break and free pancake breakfast. When I got back to town, I joined Tiffy downtown and we tried another flavor of rolled ice cream, pistachio Oreo. We joined some Slow Food people for dinner at the Nile restaurant, then we went to a Baroque concert at First Unitarian. It was a tragic opera by Purcell about Aeneas and Dido and the humorous “Coffee Cantata” by Bach, which made us think how little things have changed. In general I find it silly when they add “modern” touches to performances, but in this case it really highlighted how young adult daughters have always thought they know better than their dads.

Yesterday after Mass, Travalon, Tiffy, Rich, another bass from the choir, and I went to the Lakeside Café for brunch, then Tiffy headed home while Travalon and I took another great hike behind Madison Country Day School. There are so many trails back there that we still haven’t explored them all! In the afternoon there was a big ukulele jam sponsored by the Madison Area Ukulele Initiative (MAUI), and there must have been nearly one hundred of us there! There was even someone there with a pokelele, which, as the name implies, is shaped so that it could poke your eye out. Glad I wasn’t sitting next to it! Pete the Sailor Man joined Travalon and me for some dinner at the Union, and then Cali and OK Cap joined us for a really fun concert by the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain. We all loved it. And today I have no ill effects from playing mandolin for almost three hours on Saturday and ukulele for two hours on Sunday.

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Doing Taxes for Why?

I don't have very long to blog today because Richard Bonomo has to use Aquinas the Computer to do the taxes for Mr. Why's estate. (He has already done his own taxes and Mr. Why's personal taxes from the two months he was still alive in 2009.) This all sounds very complicated, and he cannot do them online. Watching all this has made me realize what an incredibly messy business death is; I don't mean in a natural way, like that your body decays, but in a bureaucratic way, like the paperwork you leave behind.

Mr. Why was studying estate law in law school, so he had his affairs somewhat in order at the time of his death. Me, I have nothing in order. Watching all this has made me shudder for whatever poor soul has to put my affairs in order after I kick off. (Of course, I don't plan to shuffle off this mortal coil for quite awhile, but who does? I'm not really in charge of these things.) As they say, only two things in life are sure: death and taxes. And guess what? After you are gone, you don't have to deal with your taxes anymore, but someone still does. In the case of Mr. Why, that someone is Richard Bonomo. Isn't it great to know that taxes are an even more powerful force than death? Because apparently death is no excuse for not getting your taxes done by April 15. And on that note, I should stop blogging now so Rich can use Aquinas.

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One Million Giraffes Strong

In college I once did research for a talk on dragons and unicorns in art all over the world, and I came across this delightful story: a Chinese king had sent sailors out to find him a unicorn, and some landed on a foreign shore and found it - the unicorn! It was graceful and gentle, just as they had expected, although they were a bit surprised that it stepped on the ground without any concern for the insects it might be harming. They captured it and brought it back to China, where the king was very pleased with it, and it lived the rest of its days in his court. From depictions of the "unicorn," we know that what the sailors brought back is the creature we know today as the giraffe.

Some kid in Norway is asking for one million depictions of giraffes, and so last night I drew him this picture. (If you want to send him a giraffe, here is his website: http://olahelland.net/giraffes/ ) I know perfectly well that giraffes are white with big dark orange spots, but I couldn't find my markers so this was executed with a gold pen, a three-fourths dried up yellow highlighter, and a green pen for the eye. Anyway, giraffes are often depicted as yellow.

Figure 1: Famous Hat circa 1995

In a sense you could say this is a self-portrait, since for tax purposes in 1995 I was a giraffe. I was a graduate student that year with some odd jobs on the side, but for occupation I put "giraffe," and apparently the IRS had no problem with that because they sent me my entire refund. I guess they figured a giraffe could gross $3,000 in 1995. Then again, as Kathbert pointed out, maybe they just thought I dressed in a giraffe costume for a living.

Figure 2: Famous Hat's 1995 1040-EZ Tax Form

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Happy Tax Day

Did you get your taxes done yet? Not to rub it in, but I have already gotten both my state and my federal refunds back and have put them toward the principal on my mortgage. If taxes have got you down and you need to hear an inspirational story, just look up Susan Boyle on YouTube. This is one of the most moving stories I have heard in a long time, and judging by how popular it is (over five million people have viewed it), a lot of other people feel the same way.

Imagine this: the British version of American Idol. A dowdy, unemployed, middle-aged lady who claims she has never even been on a date says that her dream is to be a singer. The audience and judges laugh at her... and then she opens her mouth. Seriously, this woman can SING. It's high time we started acknowledging people for their actual talent instead of their image. This woman looks like someone who would serve church dinners, not the plastic-pretty contestants usually on these shows, and her voice is as real as the rest of her. Once upon a time singers did not have to be beautiful; they just had to have beautiful voices. Now the important thing is that the performer is young and gorgeous and polished, because he or she can always lip-sync if talent is the only missing ingredient. It's gotten so extreme that hopeful new authors (especially female ones) have to be "interview-ready" (read: attractive) to present the right image on the jacket cover and the book tour. Authors??? I ask you, was there ever a career choice where aesthetic quality mattered LESS? What are we plain women supposed to do now? But then here comes Susan Boyle like a fresh west wind, blowing away all the superficiality so that everyone can see that what really matters is not looks, or charm, but talent.

On a completely different note, why do we call a game "football" in this country which uses neither the feet nor an actual ball? Isn't soccer a better contender for the title of football than a game that consists of throwing and running with an oblong thing? It's like Rhode Island: neither a road nor an island. Where is the truth in advertising there? My officemate and I were surprised to read that RI has one of the highest unemployment rates in the nation, so we always joked that we would quit our jobs and move there, and nobody would find us among all the other people who don't have jobs. Then she read that there was a strip club in Providence with a whole bunch of openings, not just for strippers but for bartenders, waitresses, and bouncers. They had more positions than the Kama Sutra! So maybe if this gig doesn't work out for us, we will go be bouncers in a place which is neither a road nor an island.

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