Even more fun, those seeds can be any number of odd things. All kinds of aerosols, bacteria, sulfur... Climate science has suddenly become more magical.
On another note (heh heh hem), my violin teacher may be classically trained, but he sure is saving me some pain with the fiddle. First was the suggestion for a chin rest that slanted down and out away from the tail, instead of biting into my chin. Second, instead of my massive sponge for wusses, I now have a tall, hugely malleable shoulder rest that tips my fiddle forward, toward my bow arm rather than flat toward the sky. This has been saving my jaw, my neck, and my shoulder, allowing my to play for more than 20 minutes without a headache. In fact, now I can play for hours without a headache.
Now, in addition to all that pain saving, I am also protecting my bow arm shoulder while droning on a second string by applying this simple advice: you almost don't need to press harder in order to drone. Just play in the right spot. He even suggested playing the piece without the fingering, using the "one thing at a time" approach to learning, just to get a sense of string changes and droning. I tried this for Mairi's Wedding, (version by Noel McLoughlin here) and I think it helped. But man, is it hard to play a song on the right string without resorting to fingering.
Laurent and I just finished watching Where the Wild Things Are. Lucy hadn't wanted to watch the last 20 minutes. "I feel sad after watching it. I don't really know why."
Emile, however, did see the ending, and howled and sobbed for a good long while. "Max... des amis... les monstres... perdu..."
I loved this film. It is not a film for young kids. Obviously, given Lucy and Emile's reactions.
What an honest look at the pain and anger of childhood abandonment! Not knowing why one is so angry, not being able to keep from acting out, not being able to communicate the sad, soft little kid that got left all alone. Wow. Poor Maurice. I feel you. Thank you for your truthfulness.
All that said, it still leaves place for the softening heart. Max learns a bit about the way others see the world, especially those he wants to love him. He, and his Wild Thing version, Carol, both learn about tenderness. Lovely, sappy, true stuff.
Here is the trailer (sorry about the ad in the beginning).
For more of my posts on fiddle tunes: Improving on the Fiddle, Giraffes and, well, fiddle songs about drugs, House Sings Saint James Infirmary, Learning Vibrato as an Adult, and Setauket, a Mystery So Far
Other posts about NaNoWriMo, and writing: The End of NaNoWriMo, Southerners must be laughing..., NoMo what?,