Friendship sometimes comes in the mail. And it might look like an assortment of cookies!
When Daddy-O brought the mail in on Saturday it included a couple of packages. This close to Christmas, we get a lot of packages. He had no clue what the white box held.
But when I opened the box, he didn't hesitate to dive in and sample. This gorgeous cookie assortment came from a new friend. She and I both belong to an online piano group that has turned into a friend group. We both enjoy the weekly live lessons and we both belong to the very active Facebook group where we share the piano music we are working on.
These wonderful piano lovers cheer each other on, offer suggestions and give support when the going gets hard. The piano group is global. I love it. I can chat with Ann-Marie in Sweden, Kirna in the Netherlands, Martyn in the UK, Kumi in Japan and Mary in Spain. I could keep naming friends around the world and across the United States. There are beginning pianists and professional pianists, all working to help each other.
Joyce and I are in the same country, but we have several states between us. Thanks to the internet we can be friends. We discovered that both of us are early risers and have enjoyed chatting via messenger just before the sun comes up. We talk about our piano challenges, our grandchildren and our busy days. One day she told me that she was in the midst of her annual Christmas baking. I have no clue how many of the boxes she has shipped across the country. When she asked, "Do you want me to send you one?" she got a big YES!
If I counted correctly there are a dozen kinds of cookies and our box included about 4 of each cookie. She must have baked for weeks! I also saw the photo of the decorated cookies she makes for her daughter-in-law's dance students. I have no clue when she finds time to practice piano. But she does.
Thank you, Joyce, my piano friend, for being so generous! She has promised to share recipes but like the rest of us, it is too close to Christmas to do one extra thing! I'll post them later.
Our family starts arriving tomorrow. Busy little people will be here to "help" do the last things that need to be done before Christmas Day. No new blogs for a while. But I'll be back!
Since this blog has been about piano friends I'll leave you with a Christmas song.
I got a text yesterday wishing me happy birthday that continued, "I hope you aren't cooking your own birthday dinner!" Well, it turns out that I did cook supper last night. We can have a "birthday dinner" some other time. Yesterday afternoon was busy so I planned a slow cooker meal and tried a new recipe. This one is good enough to share. The recipe is at the bottom.
What I did give myself as a birthday treat was extra time at the piano. I started piano lessons at age 6. And for well over 50 years everything I played was some kind of music written down in a book or on a piece of sheet music. I have stacks and stacks of music and shelves full of books.
A curiousity you would see on my music shelves was the collection of fake books that I could not play from. If you are not a musician, that just means you only get a melody line and the chord names written in the appropriate place. (These are called lead sheets.) Not a complete written out song. Most fake books have hundreds of songs. I clearly remember buying my first fake book in 1974. The cover has fallen off but I still have it. Over the years I kept adding another fake book to my collection even though I didn't know what to do with them. It's a mystery why I even bought the first one, much less several more.
But it must have been a deeply buried desire to one day be able to sit down and play freely. No need to focus my eyes on tiny little black dots printed on the page. As I have aged, that is becoming hard to do. Buying those books was like planting seeds. Seeds that finally started to grow about two years ago when I started learning new music skills*. Learning chords—even the crazy sounding jazz chords with long symbols. (Easier to play than to read.) And most importantly learning that a lead sheet is a suggestion of a song. I can play it anyway I want to. Change the rhythm, change the chords, even tinker with the melody.
This has become my brain work. I have friends who love jigsaw puzzles, crossword puzzles, Sudoku, cryptograms...all ways to keep our brains working. What I am doing is the same thing in musical form.
I only play for myself, in my own home. There is no goal to play "out" somewhere. It's just for fun. But oh, what fun I'm having! Here is a song I recorded yesterday. I remember hearing it when I was growing up. Some of you might remember this tune, too.
I gave myself quite a gift. The gift of not thinking I was too old to learn something completely new. Yes, this way of playing is THAT much different from reading music. So maybe it's time for you to try something you've always wanted to do. Instead of saying "I'm too old" say "better late than never!"
Now on to what was cooking in the slow cooker while I spent most of the morning at the piano. Beef Stroganoff is a perfect slow cooker recipe. The meat was so tender when it was done. It's close to how I usually cook stew meat (cubes of beef you can buy already cut up at the grocery store.). This recipe has more seasoning which upped the flavor. And the sour cream added richness.
Because we are a household of two, before I added the sour cream, I put half the cooked meat into a freezer container to save for later. You really cannot freeze it successfully after the sour cream is added. The sour cream will separate or curdle when it's thawed and reheated. When we are ready to have it another night, I will thaw, heat and then add the sour cream. Or, it would also be fine with NO sour cream. You just can't say you're having "stroganoff" for dinner that night. It's the sour cream gravy that makes it stroganoff.
SLOW COOKER BEEF STROGANOFF
1 (10-1/2 oz.) can condensed cream of mushroom soup
3 cloves garlic
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 envelope dry onion soup mix
8-oz. sliced mushrooms (I used baby Bellas)
1 medium yellow onion, diced
2-1/2 lbs. beef stew meat, cubed (I buy this already cut into cubes)
1 cup sour cream
16-oz. egg noodles
In your slow cooker, mix cream of mushroom soup, garlic, Worcestershire sauce and dry onion soup mix until blended. Add diced onions and mushrooms and stir. Add stew meat and mix until coated in the soup mixture.
Cook on LOW for 6-8 hours. (I cooked mine for 9 hours because of my schedule.)
When it's done, skim off any excess fat, then mix in sour cream.
Serve over cooked egg noodles.
You can't get much easier than this. I will say that when I first took the lid off the slow cooker and added the sour cream, I thought the gravy was too thin. But I let it sit that way while I cooked the noodles. From the time I started heating the water to boil the noodles until they were done and drained was about 20 minutes. And by then, the gravy looked much more like "gravy."
If you read the blog you saw that I saved half the recipe for the freezer BEFORE I added the sour cream. And we still have enough left for supper tonight. I don't mind leftovers for one night. More than that is too much!
This recipe came from Easy Family Recipes. You can find her excellent website online or follow her on Instagram, like I do. The recipes are just like she says—easy.
*I joined this online piano lesson site 3-1/2 years ago. It has been more than I hoped for.
Just a quick hello this morning. No new recipes. But I am making a grocery list right now while I sip my morning coffee. That's progress. We spent the weekend at our lake house trying to take care of some chores. And while we were there we got to watch a beautiful full moon rise over the lake. The reflection in the water gets me every time.
Last week I took a piano workshop. Five days, three hours each day. It was designed for piano teachers who wanted to be more creative in their teaching, who wanted to add jazz and blues to the traditional repertoire. I got to sit in and listen. What did I learn?
I learned that in a 3-hour zoom meeting, my iPad Pro goes from 100% battery to 6%. I could do the class without being plugged in. Barely. As much as I complain about technology, it was amazing that each day I could attend a live class with participants in assorted time zones.
I learned that when I relax my shoulders, my face looks thinner. Seriously. After sitting for hours each day looking at myself on zoom (I used the gallery setting a lot) I saw that I most often sat with my shoulders tensed up. And when I relaxed them, yes, my face looked thinner. When I taught guitar lessons I cautioned all students to relax their shoulders when they played. I could see that as they struggled to learn something new, the shoulders moved up toward their ears. And I would remind them to relax. I need to remind myself that shoulders reaching for the ears is never a good thing.
I learned that even though I do not have a music degree like the piano teachers, I have learned a lot over the years. There are many ways to learn. Maybe I had less to "unlearn" than the classical pianists. <smile> Don't underestimate the body of knowledge you've acquired over your life, even when it didn't come with a grade or a degree. Experience counts.
This week I need to get back to regular life. Family will be here soon to spend some time with us at the lake.
When Daddy-O had a new lake wall built over the winter, he added some steps to make it a little easier for kids to climb out of the lake. I am 100% sure this was not what he had in mind!
New wall. New pier. New grass. Old owners. Now to make time to get down there. It's hay season here but the lake isn't far away. Whatever you are doing this summer, wherever you are spending your summer, enjoy it. Stay cool. Stay safe. Make memories.
Because reader Chloe asked about my jazz journey....
I have spent countless hours in the last three years learning a new way to play piano. For most of my life when I heard a jazz pianist or a cocktail style pianist I wondered how they did it. How did they get that tinkly sound that I love? I have played piano for decades, but always from printed music. And these musicians that I heard—whether in person or on television or on a recording—sounded different. It really didn't occur to me that maybe I could learn a little of this.
But like many of us who tried new things during the pandemic shut down, (how many of you learned to bake sourdough?) I used that time to explore jazz piano. I am far from accomplished but I'm making progress.
When you watch this snippet of my video, understand that I am not reading music off the page. I didn't have any! I'm watching the timing on a backing track app. This recording was done as a final project for an online class and we had to maintain the assigned tempo.
Why am I doing this? It keeps my brain cells and my fingers active. I've learned a lot of music history. I've learned to be a better music listener. And it's proof that it's never too late to learn new skills. It might take longer, but it's never too late. My goal is to be the best mediocre jazz pianist I can be. It's only for fun!
Yes, there has been a lot of grandmothering happening also. So many funny stories. So many aching muscles. So many good memories. But in the thick of things, I didn't get many photos to share.
There have not been many new recipes happening in my kitchen. I am thankful for the good ones that I use over and over. This week I made one of our favorites—Carol's Marinated Veggies. It's delicious and it keeps for days in the refrigerator. I'll share it again because maybe it's new to you.
The last time I made this salad, I remember thinking maybe I could use less sugar in the marinade. I know I love how Carol makes it, so I texted her to ask if she used the 3/4 cup of sugar in the marinade. That's what the recipe called for. I told her that I think hers is always better than mine. Here is her reply:
Sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t. I don’t stick to recipes very well. I do drain and rinse all canned veggies. Use dark red kidney beans. Have been using small butter beans lately instead of edamame beans. Sometimes use canned corn. I’m sure yours is just as good, though.
CAROL'S MARINATED VEGGIES
1 (15.5 oz.) can light red kidney beans
1 (15.5 oz.) can black beans
1 (6.5 oz.) can mushroom stems & pieces
1 (8 oz.) can sliced water chestnuts (I cut into smaller pieces)
1 (2 oz. ) jar diced pimento
frozen white corn (amount about equal to the kidney beans)
frozen green peas (amount about equal to the kidney beans)
1 bag frozen shelled edamame beans, cooked according to package directions
1 rib celery, finely chopped, optional (I used this)
1/4 cup canola oil
1/2 cup apple cider vinegar
1/2 to 3/4 cup sugar (I used 1/2 cup)
1/2 teaspoon salt
Drain and rinse canned vegetables. Cook and cool edamame beans. In a large bowl, mix drained beans, pimento, mushrooms, and water chestnuts.
Combine oil, vinegar, sugar and salt in a small saucepan and bring to a boil. When cool, pour over vegetables and refrigerate. Vegetables will keep in refrigerator for up to two weeks.
Yes, you add the corn and peas frozen. No cooking. I did cut the slices of water chestnuts into smaller pieces. I'm sure if there is something that you don't like here, you can leave it out.
From time to time, people ask, "What is something you remember your mother saying?" And I think they likely mean something your mother said over and over. (In my case, that would be "stand up straight!") But a remark that my mother made exactly once has stuck with me for most of my life.
When I was a young teen, our church was looking for a pianist to fill in one Sunday. And the preferred choice was a lady about my mother's age. Everyone said she played the piano beautifully. I never heard her because she never played in public.
So they went down the list and finally got to me. I wondered if I should do it and worried out loud to my mother about my not being nearly as good as Mrs. Johnson. (I just made that name up because I don't remember her name all these years later.) And my mother said, "Sometimes willingness is worth more than talent." And Mother encouraged me to go ahead—with my lesser musical ability—and play for the church service. Well, I played. And I survived. And the congregation survived. And I even played for a few more services while I was in high school
I'm honest about my musical ability. I fall somewhere in the middle of the line that goes from excellent to poor. I have joked that I am "the musician of last resort." The one who gets the phone call saying, "I've called everyone I can think of and no one will do it. Would you be willing to play on Sunday?" That means that by the time I get the phone call, they have spent a week calling other people and I get the least time to prepare. And I probably need the most time! But I usually will play. I know I can do it. Not the difficult classical music that others might play, but lovely pieces nevertheless. And I survive. And the congregation survives.
Well, a couple of weeks ago, I got a phone call from a friend who pastors two tiny churches—congregations so small they could have worshiped in my living room— asking if I would play for both churches while the regular pianist was away. And he asked nearly two weeks ahead. So I said yes. I practiced and practiced. And I practiced some more. I made notes all over the music. First, in pencil. Then I used red ink to mark the more important spots. And for good measure, I added a couple of Post-It notes in strategic places.
All of that preparation left me in good shape musically. I chose my music carefully. I marked my music well. But I'll be honest. Even when well prepared, I still get ridiculously nervous before playing for a service, mostly because I don't do this often. On the way to the first church yesterday, the nervousness reached a level that almost hurt. Then I remembered Mommy telling me about the calming technique she uses to settle her children when they are afraid, upset, or mad.
She tells them, "Smell the flowers." (Breathe in.) Blow out the candles. (Breathe out.)" And after several deep breaths and controlled releases, they begin to relax. My version of this was "Breathe in the calm" and "Blow out the nerves." I imagine there is a name for this breathing technique. But whatever you call it I was ready to play by the time I got to the first little church.
I was happy to share my music with these sweet churches that are hanging on by a thread. They value worshiping in spaces rich in tradition and history for their families. I was thankful for the chance to worship with them. I will never be an award winning pianist, but most times I am a willing musician. Thank you, Mother, for your encouragement. And for years and years of piano lessons.
This morning, I put away the music I used yesterday. And I pulled out some new pieces to work on. Just in case I get that call again.
It's the day we look forward to for a whole year—Arts Day at one of the local schools. For years now, my music buddy and I have brought "live music" up close and personal to young children. There are artists of all sorts that participate in Arts Day. Painters, dancers, actors, wood carvers, storytellers, quilters and more. We are happy to be included.
So many children now have very little exposure to music beyond television or an iPod, so seeing someone three feet away from them play an instrument is a new experience. They are usually excellent listeners.
So why do we really look forward to this day so much? One big reason is that we get to spend a little time practicing the songs before the event. For a music maker, there isn't anything much better than time spent playing songs with a friend.
Well, this year's set list is now tucked into my ukulele case with lists from all the other years. It's a nice reminder of how long we've been doing this. And next year, if we can't think of what songs to play, I'll pull all of this out again.
Although I was really looking forward to doing this, Little Sister didn't think it was such a good idea. I was at her house for a few days this week and headed home the day before the school program. On the last night when I bent down for a goodnight hug, she wouldn't let go. "Don't go, Mimi!"
I thought she meant go away from her bed. But she didn't want me to leave her house. I told her I had promised to play music for the school children. She told me,"Find some other lady to play. You stay here!"
I thought it would be fun to let you see a little of another part of my life. I've said before that the "gig" part of this blog title comes from the music part.
This week's calendar has two gigs. My music partner (he and I taught together for years at a local music store) and I practiced just after breakfast on Monday. We are getting ready for a school arts day performance later this week. This will be our 10th year with that event.
We have laughingly named ourselves "APB" which to us means "Annual Peformance Band." He and I used to play together often but as our lives changed and we went in different directions, we don't see each other much now. We have clung to this event as a way to know we will at least play together once a year. Oh, how we look forward to it each April!
Yesterday I played for an event with my ukulele band, the Yesterukes—a senior adult, all ukulele band. I formed this band about 7 years ago and have enjoyed watching it grow into a solid musical group. We have had great fun for years entertaining others.
Like many children, I took piano lessons for years. I started at age 5. I am a decent pianist, but I always wanted to play guitar. There was just never a way for me to learn. Then at age 47 that finally happened. Glad I didn't worry much about being too old to learn! In the years since then, I have taught guitar and mandolin lessons and started a ukulele band and played for many, many audiences. A side benefit—as I learned music in a different way, my piano playing improved greatly!
Life lesson here? If I had learned to play guitar when I was a teen like I wanted, I likely would have moved on to some other hobby after a few years. Learning these new skills later in life put me on a path to meet and play with these wonderful people that are now part of my life. Thinking about this always reminds me of a song my children sang when they were little, "In His time, in His time, God makes all things beautiful in His time." This all worked out just like it was supposed to. I didn't get to do what I wanted on my schedule. I got a schedule that was even better.
