Thomas Wants More DIA Masks Posted

I took random pictures of various masks while I wandered around the African art section of the DIA while Thomas was looking and selecting which masks he wanted to stand in front of. The ones which were not behind glass cases photograph a lot better and are easier to see--some of these are 4 or 5 feet tall and must be quite heavy to wear. Although this looks like a fancy dress, it is a mask and there are two eye-holes in the middle. Allegedly some of these had religious significance (but museums always say that) but a lot of these (they claim) were "growing up" masks, too. Masks you wore like at a "coming out" ball, sort of thing. I can't remember if there was a significance or purpose to the double-sided head mask; like conjoined twins, this one would allow you to see everything from all sides. (Though the side heads don't seem as big and competent as the front head.) They had dozens and dozens of masks from every region of Africa, all shapes and sizes and all shapes and colors. How many masks have humans ever made? And where are they all? I thought this was interesting. I should have taken a picture of the little twin dolls there, but I think right at that second Thomas had decided which masks he wanted to pose in front of and expected me to snap into action. But the twins, which were carved to look like little adults, but with big baby heads, had a selection of baby clothes so the parents could care for them for their whole "lives."

DIA Adventure

Last week Thomas had a week long break from classes (Frederick did not) for no apparent reason. The only "work" he had to do was to go to the Detroit Institute of Art one day and stand in front of an African mask of his choosing and be photographed. It turns out that this was an assignment given to him by his literature teacher (they are reading "Things Fall Apart" now) and I suspect this was an attempt to get the kids to the African art section of the DIA. So each day I said, "Should we go to the DIA today?" and he groaned, as he lay in bed, "I don't really need to go--it's only an extra credit assignment." So on Thursday, which was the last chance we could go because he has so many music obligations on Friday, I dragged him out of bed and forced him into my car. He was pretty crabby the whole way there. When I couldn't figure out how to park the car (the old underground parking lot was closed off and they were routing us to a far off surface lot behind a strange business) he shouted, "I KNEW we shouldn't have COME! Let's just GO HOME!" We did finally get rid of the car and find our way into the building, which is a good thing as it was frickin' cold out and, as usual, he refused to wear a coat and was shaking from the bitter wind by the time we got into the building. But the sight of the beautiful interior thawed his scroogey little heart immediately--Thomas never could resist a huge marble staircase and ornately carved ceiling. And once we found our way to the masks he was suitably intrigued. I thought he would just stand in front of the first masks he saw, pose, and tear out of the building, but he had to peruse each and every one. (I was, quite frankly, getting a little bored.) Finally, he picked this one:

and these two: (I don't know why it was SO DARK in this part of the museum--maybe the natural fibers/paints used on these masks will deteriorate? A lot of them are decorated with hair. You can see I used a flash, but still, it's was like we were a mile underground.)

After the masks, I was certain he would be done with the place, but he had the map of the building and took me on a wild tour. He insisted we see all the Greco-Roman art (2nd floor), the van Goghs (3rd floor), and the Rivera courtyard, which is a HUGE vaulted courtyard with MASSIVE murals by Diego Rivera, a painter Thomas studied in his art class last year. Right across the street from the DIA is the Detroit History museum, the recently reopened science museum and the African-American museum. I pointed all these out to him and he didn't squeal, so I hope he will allow himself to be dragged back sometime soon, since he is capable of enjoying himself once disengaged from his laptop.

Ice Pizza

It feels DAMN cold today. Snot freezing in your sinuses cold. Snow sounds like polystyrene under your feet cold. You can walk to the island in the middle of the pond cold.


Frederick referred to this as his "pizza":

Saturday with Sesame Street....LIVE!!!

About two weeks ago I found out from our secretary Martha that Sesame Street LIVE had a theater show performing in Detroit for a few weeks. I knew Frederick would be interested, but the Fox Theater is over an hour away and, with all the noise of the performance and the kids in the audience, I wasn't sure if he would like it enough to warrant buying the tickets. In the end I did get two tickets and last night, just after his bath, I told him that he would be seeing Sesame Street, but not on tv, but real, in person, in a theater--and he practically popped off the couch in excitement. The show started at 2:00, so we set off about 12:30. Here is the theater sign:

The inside of the Fox Theater is incredibly fancy, which makes it extra exciting to see it filled with little kids screaming for Ernie and Bert and Big Bird.
Here we are, in our seats. I'm not sure what all those pictures are on the walls but they gave us plenty to talk about while we waited for the show to start.
Frederick said he was excited but also anxious before the show started. But when Ernie and Bert came out on the stage and asked how everyone was doing, he practically rocketed out of his seat and let out an ear-splitting shriek, he was so excited. In fact, he squealed pretty much continuously the whole first half of the show, which was 40 minutes long.

Here is The Count song in which he sings to his number 8, which was the number of the day. This was particularly exciting for Frederick because he has been talking about the number 8 a LOT lately. (How did they know?)
During the second half, which was 30 minutes long, Frederick was a limp noodle during the songs, too fatigued too wiggle but instead just clapped perfunctorily at the end of each number. He did come to life at the very end of the show when each muppet came to the edge of the stage to say goodbye to the kids in the audience.  He was very excited to shout goodbye to The Count, Telly Monster, Big Bird and Cookie Monster.

Meanwhile, Simon Looks for a Diner That Isn't Deadly

While Frederick and I were enjoying the show, Simon headed out to look for a nearby diner to enjoy a cup of coffee. However, given that Detroit has lost about 30% of its population in recent years and, today is a Saturday and the only time people come into Detroit is Monday through Friday for government jobs, Simon soon found out that a reasonable diner was not easy to find. In fact, finding anything that wasn't a zombie apocalyse site was not easy. Finally he found this, the perfect diner, albeit the razor wire surrounding it was a bit disconcerting. And it seems to be confused about what "open 24 hours" means. [This is Simon.] The main reason I went along, despite the fact there wasn't a ticket for me, was so that Jami wouldn't have to worry about Parking. Downtown Detroit is an odd mixture of classy things like the Fox, the Detroit Opera House, the Detroit Institute of Arts and the new Tiger Stadium, and TOTAL AND UTTER WASTELAND. The contrast is jarring. You can drive literally one block from Beverly Hills to Beirut. I picked this diner (which faced on to Woodward, which is the main street of Detroit and on which are the Fox and the DIA) because I had to sit SOMEWHERE, and it had its own free parking round the back (see above) although you had to drive down a narrow gap between two buildings to get to it. (The thing that looks like a collapsed film set for the Bride of Frankenstein (above) was right next door, on the side street.) I went in the back entrance and sat down in a comparatively deserted (and cold) part of the Diner, unaware that it went all the way around and the warm and Ritzy side was round the other side. I only discovered this because some homeless guy locked himself in the one toilet for the ENTIRE TIME and I, having partaken freely of the many refills of coffee, was bursting. On the way there, my waitress asked me if I'd paid yet. I had (at the register). Then she asked if I'd paid with a credit card. "No, cash." "You didn't leave money on the table did you?" [i.e. her tip] I acknowledged that I had. "Oh shit!" she said, and literally ran over there. Apparently that part of the diner is pretty much given over to street people. While I was in there, it snowed steadily. When I came out, I had to kill a bit more time until Jami called me to pick them up at the curb, so I just found a deserted side street (easy to tell, because there were no tracks in the newly-fallen snow) to sit on with the heater running. Turns out there was NO shortage:

Big Words

Frederick is enjoying school well enough, some subjects he enjoys a LOT and others not so much. Math is satisfying enough and, surprisingly, he doesn't mind creative writing which requires him to write short stories and read them to his classmates. He does not enjoy reading books to his teacher and then answering comprehension questions, because this can get frustrating at times. But his absolute favorite subject is spelling. He LOVES to learn new words and to write out sentences using those new words. The longer the word, the more he loves to learn and use it, over and over again. Last week they got a bunch of grammar words as spelling words, one of which was "interrogative" and he was joyfully using that word during the next several days. We have several sets of scrabble and various versions of scrabble. We dumped all the letters into a giant plastic tub and Frederick spends lots of his time, rustling through the bucket, seeking out letters to make words to spell.

We found this spelled out today, one of the better non-dinosaur (but dinosaur looking) creatures.

It seems we are short a "c" and someone had to get creative.

Into the Deep, Deep Snowy Woods

Today, though cold, was a clear beautiful day. So after stocking up on duck food at Tractor Supply in Fenton, (the two ducks have been eating a LOT to get through the nippy days--especially Zachary who chose a rather unwise time to molt a few weeks ago) Simon and Frederick stopped off at Seven Lakes for a quick trot about. Some people obviously prefer skiing these parts, but Frederick prefers walking, quickly. (That is, until he decides to drop to the ground and eat snow.)

Certain Grannies will recognize a certain double knit cap Frederick is wearing. Frederick's usual winter hat was STOLEN from him about two weeks ago by a schoolmate. He decided that he liked THIS hat an awful lot, and took it one day and has been wearing it every day since. I am surprised that it does not cause itching, because he will NEVER wear sweaters and up to last year, would not wear a wool hat without a fleece liner. But, well, there you go. Perhaps the fact that it was Thomas's hat made all the difference but the fact is: he had to have THIS HAT. And he wears it enthusiastically.

And it looks good on him, too. Here he is, looking pleased with himself.

More logs to balance on, just like at For Mar.

Time to head home.

Winter In Flint

Thursday night we were treated to a MASSIVE snow storm, so spectacular, all the schools were closed 4 pm the day before. School officials knew there was no way anyone was going to be able to dig their way out of this mess in the 16 hours before school was scheduled to begin the next day. Kids happy, parents all over SICK and TIRED of this winter. Of the 7 weeks of this semester, not one yet has featured a full week of school. Friday morning, Simon set out to do some shoveling, but gave up after a few minutes. Then shoveled some more later.

Once Simon and Frederick were sufficiently stuffed with warm foods and hot toddies, they headed out to a nearby park for sledding and recreating. I'm not sure what Frederick is attempting to do here. I don't think he knows, either.

Frederick from afar, in his favorite tree.

Once home, Simon and decided to clear off the trampoline. Frederick helps.

Winter returns

You know the score: Jami deigns to write one blog post every month  or so with actual content (see below), while I pad our post count with updates about the weather. TALKING OF WHICH, it got cold again!

Another Audition

Several months ago Thomas announced, as we were driving home from school, that he had agreed to participate in a district-wide band and orchestra wind instrument competition. I groaned inwardly because Thomas does NOT handle auditions well but this one had a TWIST to make it extra stressful: we had to supply our own piano accompanist. How we were to find such a person was beyond me. Thomas assured me I was not to worry as he would take care of everything. He and Dean, his bassoon teacher picked out bassoon and piano music--apparently the most difficult bassoon piece ever written (part of how you are judged is on the difficulty of the piece, it is a lot like gymnastics in the Olympics in that way--better to make a few mistakes playing a really difficult piece than to play an easy piece perfectly). Weeks and weeks went by and, late December I happened to ask Thomas if he had found his piano accompanist. "No!" he wailed, throwing himself on our bed (the place he always goes when his life is falling apart and he wants us to drop dead and he wants to no longer deal with all the horrible problems in the world). "Would YOU do it?" he sobs. I knew it. It always comes to this. The FIM, being stuffed with professional pianists, has a list (as well as suggested rates--also adjusted rates for parents of kids who pissed around until the last minute) so I started making phone calls and leaving messages. The only problem was that it was three days before Christmas, the school was shutting down for the holidays and wouldn't open up again for two weeks. THOMAS!!!! No one called me back until well into the new year, and even then only to tell me that they all had obligations on February 1st. Things were looking grim. FINALLY, a guy called Donald called back about two weeks ago and said he was "intrigued" with the idea of accompanying a bassoonist, something he had never done before. He has taught piano for decades at the FIM (in fact, he is the piano instructor to one of Thomas's best friends, Sherwin) but he didn't know anything about this whole district audition business. So, we agreed to 2 or 3 30 minute rehearsals in the late evening when both were done with their other music commitments so they get comfortable with playing together. The first time I went to drop Thomas off, he was scared to death, convinced that Donald would be mean. But, in fact, the guy was a real hoot. I asked when I should come back and he said, "Oh, we'll just play as long as it takes. If we're not here when you come back, we've gone off to the local bar for a drink." (At that Thomas looked mortified.) Then he turned to Thomas and said, "Ok, let's tear this place apart. Show me your chops." I don't think Thomas knew what he meant because he just looked anxious.
I came back after 30 minutes and Thomas seemed happy and pink faced, which means he was getting a good work out. In the car ride home he was obviously excited about working with Donald. He said the piece sounded "much better" with a piano. They had three rehearsals together and, last night, was show time.
MEANWHILE, about two weeks ago a classmate in Thomas's band at school asked Thomas if he would join her quintet because the kid who agreed to play the bassoon part for the same district auditions quit for no reason. For reasons that are unclear to me, Thomas agreed. So this quintet has been practicing together since August, and Thomas got the music two weeks ago. I didn't think this was a good idea since, if they didn't do well, they may blame Thomas when it would hardly be his fault if he didn't have time to prepare. The first rehearsal he was supposed to join them he couldn't even find the school they were at, so he didn't make that rehearsal. Last week he went to a rehearsal, but one other member of the quintet was not there. So, last night at the audition was the only time the entire quintet actually ever played together.
Yesterday Thomas got home from school, changed his clothes and we had to head out. It was about a 45 minute drive to the middle of nowhere to another super-school complex which obviously is hyper funded by secret stores of hidden wealth. Finally, about 5:30 it was his turn to audition with Donald. When the called his name, he looked like he was being called to his execution, he was shaking so hard. I waited outside the room but I couldn't hear anything because every room had some kid playing some wind instrument--there were hundreds and hundreds of kids auditioning. (The auditions started at 4, continued until 8 that night and are all day today.) Once they finished, it took the judge about ten minutes to settle a score. Thomas received a "1"--neither of us knew what that meant, and so didn't know how to react so they had to explain. Apparently that is a "1st--the highest score possible"--Huzzah!!--which pushes Thomas onto the next level of competition--Boo!! Oh, just kidding. About an hour later the quintet performed, 4 gals and Thomas, and all the parents got to sit in. It was a Schubert piece and really was lovely. I didn't hear one flubbed note, but what do I know. The judged started by raving about it--"lovely, absolutely lovely, I must begin by saying that." But then did give a few critiques but, really, they sounded more like very tiny suggestions, the sort of thing a conductor would say to improve a piece. I hope the kids were listening because it sounded like he was offering helpful advice that could help them. Anyway, he obviously thought very highly of the performance because he gave it a 1st so they, too, will be going to state to compete against other wind ensembles. Sheesh. Here are some medals Thomas was awarded for his troubles:

I am not even sure when or where these state auditions are. Simon talked to Donald this morning, Thomas's intrepid pianist, to break the news to him that he isn't rid of Thomas yet. He seemed to take the news in stride; he's a plucky old bird.