Robin McKinley's Blog, page 164

On picking up my viola again after 20 years, part 2. Guest post by Black Bear

 

So when we left this saga, my viola was sitting in the corner of my dining room, gathering dust.  Things looked bleak–yet not quite bleak enough to finally admit defeat and take it over to the instrument shop for a re-sell.  Then this spring, through an odd set of circumstances, I found myself in contact with my old music teacher Mr. S again.  (Thank you, Facebook.)  He mentioned that some years ago he'd started another volunteer orchestra—a combination of retirees and his students, current ...

The I Hate to Cookbook, revisited

 

Years and years and years and half a lifetime ago when I had only just started this blog*, I brought up the subject of Peg Bracken's classic of the culinary art, The I Hate to Cookbook,** as a result of having just read her obituary***.  Now I started teaching myself to cook at the relatively tender age of thirteen, and discovered I liked it, but I still have pretty much always agreed that 'life's too short to stuff a mushroom'†.  And when I was thirteen life was serious and the idea of...

Same bat time, same bat station*

 

I have bats.  No, really.  In fact I have a lot of bats.  Stop that laughing.**  These are real bats.  Pipistrelles, in fact:  the common pipistrelle, which is also the commonest bat species in the UK;  but all bats are protected, and you're not allowed to disturb a roost.  Not that I want to.  Eat bugs!  Eat more bugs!  Bats are my friends!  Yesssssss!

            There are about a million and a half links for info about pipistrelles*** but here are a couple to get you started.  I admit...

Post quarter

 

Yes, we got it—the quarter.  The quarter peal that I've been obsessing about all this last week, the quarter peal to Daniel's memory*, the quarter peal that Vicky managed to end-run me into organising.  Forty-five minutes of Grandsire Triples with Colin conducting.  Yes, we got it.

            But it was not a thing of beauty, and that, I fear, was my fault.  I was only ringing the treble, so straight out to the back and straight down to the front again with no scary zigzags, and no even...

On picking up my viola again after nearly 20 years, part 1. Guest post by Black Bear

 

When I was ten years old, my school started a new instrumental music program.  They hired a young, enthusiastic guy named Mr. S to mastermind it; he was put in charge of the middle and high school band/orchestra classes, and he also was charged with implementing a beginning strings group in grades 5-6.  At the time, I had a burning desire to play the string bass.  It's BIG, it's tall (I was too, at the time—I topped out a year or two later and most folks caught up with me, to my great...

An Unscheduled Night Off

 

 So I got back from home tower practise* and found this in my Twitter feed: 

tessagratton In Which My Friend Sends a Piece of God in a Pink Envelope: http://tinyurl.com/232y7g3 @mstiefvater @robinmckinley 

And I figure if your sins** have caught you out, you might as well get a free guest-post substitute out of it.***  Furthermore, how often is a hellgoddess† truly granted her rightful divinity?††  This is obviously a moment that should be commemorated as widely as possible.††† 

PS:  Tessa, I...

Three glasses of champagne

 

I am exsheedingly drunk.  Three glashes of champagne on an empty shtomach will do that to you.   Well, there washn't anything on the menu that I could eat. 

            It began innocently enough with handbells.  No, no, handbells are never innocent.  It is a crucial part of the definition of handbells that they are evil.  That they drive quiet, law-abiding human beings to drink. *

            All right, I'm too drunk to work this out. **   I think it all began a few weeks ago when Alicia...

How We Re-sanded the Sitting-room Floor and Still Managed to Save Our Marriage II (guest post by Ajlr)

Where were we? Oh yes, I remember…

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S-Day+1: the next morning, we were on the phone to the hire firm very early, querying with the manager (in a mild and civilised way, naturally) where the machine was that I'd seen in both online and printed catalogues and subsequently ordered? 'Oh, there's only two of those in the whole country', I was informed. 'We've given you the closest to it that we have here.' I swear the phone handset almost melted in my...

Big dumb yuck

 

How has it been a bad day?  Let me count the ways.*

            The phone rang at mmph o'clock plus four, and I'd forgotten to unplug the sucker.**   

            The weather is like being suspended in wet foam rubber.  Wet grey foam rubber.  You can't see, you can't breathe, and sudden gestures, supposing you have the energy to make any, make the air squelch.  But will it RAIN?  Noooooooo.  It keeps dripping, like a leaky pot, and every time hellhounds and I venture forth it dribbles a...

Er . . . Ask Robin

 

Okay, you guys, your mission, should you decide to accept it, is that you have to NAG ME about Ask Robin.  I keep forgetting.  Things like bells keep driving it out of my mind.*  And I already know the answers to questions about me, you know?**   It's not like I'm burning to think about this stuff.  But I'm happy to get some blog entries out of people's questions.  So if I haven't done an Ask Robin for a while, nag me. 

 My favourite question so far: 

Okay, I feel odd about asking this...