Sated Stomach

I had an incredibly long day on Sunday. First, of course, there was the two church services that I sang in, after which I had to race to a last-minute funeral to sing at (I got booked for the job at 10:30 the night before!), then off to a fundraiser for the Philadelphia Singers.

I had the whole day planned out: in between the two morning services, I would dash over to Wawa and get a sandwich that I could eat in the car on my way to the funeral. However, when I got to Wawa, I opened up my purse and realized that my wallet was missing! Frantic, I searched my car, rooting through old Dunkin' Donuts bags and empty water bottles, until I remembered that I had taken my wallet out to pay for take-out the night before and put it on the dresser at home instead of returning it to its rightful place in my purse.

I called Ray and woke him up, and he sleepily agreed to come meet me after church and give me my wallet so I wouldn't be driving around New Jersey and Pennsylvania without driver's license or registration. When I walked out of church, there he was, parked next to my car, and he sweetly asked if I'd like to have lunch with him. If I didn't have to be in Center City within 30 minutes, I would have taken him up on his offer, but alas, I had to dash off, forgetting to stop for my sandwich at Wawa.

I lucked out and saw someone pulling out of a prime parking spot less than a block from the church where the funeral was happening (praise to you, Mighty Parking Gods!). When I was hunting for my wallet in my car, I had also unearthed a box of Larabars, which I actually keep in my car for such rush-around-from-place-to-place occasions as these to keep from starvation. I snagged a couple and headed for the church.

The funeral service was nice, but smelly...not from the body (she was in an urn, sensible woman), but from the incense! It was a high Anglican mass, complete with communion, and it lasted pretty long because there were a lot of people who wanted to get up and say something about the deceased. I guess she was a pretty nice lady who touched a lot of lives.

As a result, I only had a few moments to chill out in Starbuck's before I made my way to my third singing gig of the day. What a glorious end to a stressful day. I spent four and a half hours conversing, singing, and most importantly, eating an eight course meal at Deux Cheminees...what a treat! No more starving for me, let me tell you. I haven't eaten an eight course meal since my stint as the 1891 socialite, Helen Astor Roosevelt, at the Astors' Beechwood. It's nice to be a little indulgent every once in a while.

I'm going to need a bigger handbasket

This past weekend, I lectured my mother, shook down my church choir director, and flipped off a homeless guy in a wheelchair. What's happening to me?

Granted, my mother needed lecturing, my church choir director hadn't paid me for a gig in a month, and the homeless guy was in the street knocking on my car window in New York and freaked me out. But when you put these things together, it certainly doesn't look good. I always knew I would be going to hell--I even have my own handbasket--but even for me, this was bad.

Boy, I sure hope I'm not turning into a Republican.

Big Losers

Surprise, surprise, we didn't win the wedding contest to Hawaii. Thanks for voting, though. The couple that did win really did outdo my little blurb as far as content goes, but I thought the word count was 200 words or less, and their word count was 438! I re-read the rules, and apparently the word count was supposed to be 500 or less. Bummer.

Based on their story (country-crossed lovers who keep their relationship alive through email and IM, and who need the money so they can focus less on an expensive wedding and more on building their relationship, since it doesn't seem to work out very well when they live together) the pure romance of the story might make me believe that they deserve to win a little more than Ray and me. But we've got a MUCH more stable relationship than they do, so therefore have more of a chance of staying married...

Or is that just me being bitter? Nah. I wish them nothing but the best (and hope they spend a lot of their prize money on really cheap leis and dry cake).

Now that I know about the contest, though, our original plan stands. My mom has been our de facto wedding planner in Hawaii, and she's been doing a lot of the footwork, which is nice, because I know she's not out to make a buck, like a lot of those people. We're still visiting her in June, and we'll scope out places then. In the meantime, I've got my dress, I've already booked the NJ reception site, and I'm ahead of schedule! Woo-hoo!

Small Rant

Most of you probably know that when I'm not blogging or singing, I pay the bills by being a transcriptionist. That means that I type out transcriptions of audio recordings of meetings, or I transcribe one-on-one interviews or teleconferences.

Today, I feel like ranting about said interviews. I think there are very few people who understand how important it is to make a good audio recording of meetings one wants transcribed, and of those few people, only a very small percentage are actually in charge of setting up the audio equipment at those meetings.

I went to one of those meetings last week, as a participant. When I walked in the room, I saw the two microphones taped down to the middle of the table and knew EXACTLY what the recording would sound like: the folks close to the microphones would be heard very well (including their side conversations) and the people farthest away would sound like they were across the street.

Upon introducing ourselves, I was dismayed to see that the people with the hard-to-understand accents were sitting farthest from the microphones (go figure), and I had to say something. So I did, and I mentioned that I was a transcriptionist, so I had experience in these things. Did they listen to me? Did they move closer to the microphone or speak more clearly? Of course not.

Not that it's really the fault of the people with accents. I'm usually pretty good at figuring out what someone with a thick accent is saying if I can hear them clearly. It's really the fault of the person in charge of the sound equipment, who I'm sure is just a secretary who isn't a sound engineer (and why should he/she be?) but was told to record the meeting.

So I've decided to educate the public. This weekend, while I was updating my web site (go check it out! I'm really proud of it), I put together a tip sheet for those poor clueless secretaries. No offense...I've been a clueless secretary, and I've learned a lot from just searching Google for tip sheets like these.

Now, I'm not a sound engineer either, but I've learned from listening to many, many recordings that in order to make a good recording YOU'VE GOT TO USE THE RIGHT EQUIPMENT IN THE PROPER MANNER. Too many times have I torn my hair out trying to understand a conversation recorded on a microcassette dictation device that was put on the table next to a speakerphone where the main portion of the meeting or interview was with the guy on the other end of the line who was on a cell phone. I have grown too many white hairs yelling in frustration at the idiot in the breakout meeting who forgot to turn his microphone off and proceeds to tell dirty jokes to the guy next to him while the next speaker, who forgot to turn his microphone on, tries to give a presentation.

Now I know most of you reading this aren't really ever in charge of recording a meeting or an interview for transcription, but if you ever find yourselves in that position, remember my words, heed them, and do a Google search for my tips.

Okay, I'm done. Thanks for letting me rant for a bit. I needed that.

Groundhog Day

No, my life is not a Bill Murray movie. And actually, I had forgotten that today was Groundhog Day until Ray reminded me tonight.

I guess the prediction from the famous PA groundhog is that we'll have six more weeks of winter, but I don't really feel like we've had very much of a winter yet. I'm half ready to start planting peas in my spring garden, only I have the bad feeling that some freak snowstorm in April will come and wipe out my fragile seedlings and I'll have to start all over again. No, better to wait until AFTER said freak snowstorm.

In other news, not only did I miss Chinese New Year (bad Chinese girl!), but I forgot all about Imbolc/Candlemas/St. Brigid's Day (bad witch!), which is February 1st, and which is directly related to Groundhog Day. All these holidays are celebrations of midwinter, looking ahead to a spring that is already peeking its head out of its proverbial hole. For those of us who despise the cold darkness of winter, this is a very exciting time. Mother Earth is just beginning to wake up. I just hope she doesn't press the snooze button with a freak snowstorm sometime in April.

Gung Hay Fat Choy

Okay, so I know I'm a few days late in wishing my Chinese relatives a happy new year, but I've been so busy this past week I would have forgotten my head if it wasn't already attached.

Last week I spent almost every day in New York, getting headshots done (prepare for the unveiling of my new web site with spiffy new pics), rehearsing for two concerts at the same time, and coming home every night to pass out in exhaustion. I haven't even watched my crack TV, which normally would be okay since I got a TiVo for Christmas (I love my TiVo), but these past couple of weeks, there have been hockey games on at the same time as Lost, and of course, Ray has to TiVo his hockey games and make them a priority over my crack TV (grrrrr). The idea is that I'll program the VCR to tape Lost, and I normally do, except for when I'm so busy I can't remember to go to the bathroom.

So I broke down and bought the episodes on iTunes. I have to watch them on my computer, but with the new flat screen monitor I got for Christmas, I'm all set to go. Ah, technology. What would I have done without you?

Not that I've had time to actually watch said episodes, and I will try to remember to set the VCR to record Lost tonight. It's only $2 an episode, but I'm trying to save money this year, and every penny counts.