Awareness FALE

Clover Noir has a show this Saturday. I put this flier in the break room at work.

A developer approached me later and said "I didn't know you played the violin! I thought you played the cello"

So I said "No Jon, I play the violin. I don't know how to play the cello."

Now. I've worked with this dude for over 2 years. For 6 months of those two years, we worked in the same friggin ROOM. A glorified conference room crammed full of computers, developers and me. There was also a singing bass on the wall, but that is irrelevant to this story.
 
Each week I bring my violin to work. Most times I go straight to rehearsals after work, I have it with me. And now with multiple projects, I sometimes bring it multiple times per week. The "tommy gun" jokes have gotten a little old. Thankfully people have stopped commenting.

"So you mean to tell me that the time I came to your concert to watch you, you weren't playing the cello?"

::blink:: "No."

"You mean I watched the wrong person that whole time?"

Seriously? I mean, I know it's slighty vain to think that he is THAT in tune with what size the instrument I'm lugging around is, but... c'mon. Our cello section is all guys and one old lady. Plus - yeah, I can't get over the size difference. Violin is to cello what fun size reeces cup is to regular size cups. Clearly noticable. AND THE HAIR! I KNOW for a fact that the size of this poof has made me discernable in a huge crowd, don't tell me you couldn't pick me out.

Was your inner monologue something lilke Hmmmm this sure is pretty music. But why does Natasha have gray hair and a bald spot? HEY! Look, there is someone else in the Orchestra that looks JUST like her - but - she's not playing some other... so... SQUIRREL!

ps - come to my show on Saturday!

"Planter who's a fuck it?"

My left foot is doing A LOT better but it was touch and go there for a few weeks. At the worst moment - some time mid January - as I was crawling around my apartment, refusing to cry, I had to remind myself that no one ever died from plantar fasciitis.

"Planter who's a fuck it?" you ask?

It's ok - I had no idea what it was either. I explained to someone why I was limping, she said it sounded like plantar fasciitis and when I responded "Planter who's a fuck it?" she said to google "my foot hurts."

At this point there had been a mild to moderate pain and stiffness in my foot that had not gotten better after two weeks of "walking out" the pain. Actually it had gotten worse. Go figure. I had an ace bandage that provided some relief but mostly the thing that made it feel better was not being the fuck on it.

So, I web-diagnosed myself and the verdict did, indeed, come back with the dreaded PF. After extensive research (I think I went to like 8 or 9 websites) I decided that I could recover without seeing a doctor. I just needed to wear supportive shoes, stretch the muscles and buy shoe inserts! I was as good as healed.

So I stretched. I stretched it EVERY way there was to stretch. Sitting stretches, standing stretches, walking stretches. There was relief. At first. Maybe I was over-zealous (who??  ME???) and I went bat-stretch crazy. When I heard (and felt) a loud "POP!" one afternoon, I didn't think too much of it. Then my foot started to hurt a little bit extra. And no amount of stretching was making it feel better. In fact, the stretching was now making it feel worse.

"Could it be broken?" Asked a co-worker. I assured him that I had gone to WebMD and was certain that it was Plantar Fasciitis. "You're lucky,' he said "every time the internet diagnoses me I have terminal cancer."

It was the next evening that I abandoned using my feet. Crawling was my mode of transport. My foot was so swollen and couldn't stand any... ANY sort of weight to be on it. I cried myself to sleep. It was pathetic. The next day, after confessing to Megan that my food looked a little pregnant, I went to see a doctor.

She confirmed the Planter who's a fuck it diagnosis but said that I also had a pretty bad sprain of my inside deltoids as well. I relived the POP I had heard a few days ago. I hadn't even sprained my ankle in a cool way. I sprained it STRETCHING. Least sexy injury ever. Maybe second to getting whiplash from a mega sneeze. The sprain had to fully heal first before I could get the PF any better. She gave me an air-cast and I borrowed a cane from a friend and I had a new lease on walking! I was still way slow and gimpy, but I could move!

My sprain is good and healed and my foot as a whole it doing a lot better. I still have to wear sneakers with support insoles. One of the most important things to heal properly is to stretch the foot (maybe a bit more gently this time). The Doc prescribed stretching every day and showed me a few stretches to do. "Also, write out the whole alphabet with your foot. That will be a great exercise."

You guys... and this is the whole point of my story... every time I start in on my foot-alphabet, I get to the  "K" and I start spelling my last name. And don't even notice for another 4 or 5 letters. EVERY. TIME. Somewhere around the "H I J K" I fall into auto-mode and start spelling "Derka Derka Muhammad Jihad Allah"

Surprised? Amused? Concerned? I haven't decided.

Clover Noir

So my "followers" increase by almost 20% when I DON'T blog? That's backwards math. Or just the internets telling me to keep my blog-hole closed. Hmmm...
Last April I was wrangled into a music project that has, surprisingly, thrilled, challenged and delighted me. A local singer/song writer was looking for a pair of violins to accompany him and enhance his songs. In artsy-fartsy speak "give it an interesting texture."

A couple weekends ago we had our performance debut (If you don't count the pair of open mic nites we went to). And to boot we got a % of the cover and a free pitcher of beer. I can get used to this rock and roll life style.

The groups name is Clover Noir and this song is called "Trust Me."

Bahama Mama

It's gray, cold and wet outside. It's hard not to be completely swallowed by the gloom. Please don't read into that as some sort of cryptic cry for help. I was fortunate enough to be on vacation in the Bahamas last week.

I stayed at a yoga ashram and spent my days meditating, stretching and napping.

Hate me now. I'm just rubbing it in your face and feeling sorry for my cold ass.

It was kinda like Eat, Pray, Love. She and I both ate a shit ton of food and did karma yoga.

Except that she did the former in Italy and the latter in India over a 6 month span. I crammed them both into a week.

I DID fart during a couple of the poses, but it wasn't as loud as this other guy.

But it's good to be home. Even if it has to been in layers (and can't even show off my tan! And by tan I mean "no longer sickly pale.")

Madame President

When I tell people that I was born outside of the United States, about one-third of the people usually point out that I could never be President.

Really? My reckless youth, littered with drugs, alcohol and a short stint in a paegan community, isn't gonna be political fodder? And don't let a little thing, like, void of proper education and experience be a deal breaker. No people. I'm pretty sure my complete LACK of desire to be President is what's gonna keep me from being President of the United States. It's just convenient that I technically can't.

Which leads me to 3 weeks ago. The Orchestra's Board of Directors was up for a vote. 3 of the 6 members had to step down and 3 new members would be voted on. I saw it as my chance to avenge my birth-abroad status. I didn't know at the time when I nominated myself (oh that's right people - I nominated myself. My stand partner, Amber, said she would have herself, but I couldn't contain the excitement) that I was going to be the next President of the Kansas City Kansas Community Orchestra.... but here I am!

Madame President if you please.

President Natasha.

Reverend President Natasha.

Our Fall concert is THIS Thursday (October 27th) @ 7pm. Come and support me and my "dork"estra buddies.

Sabrina snapped this pic at our Spring concert.... and... apparently I play with my mouth open.

The Spanish Inquisition

Conversation at the coffee shop on Sunday.

Guy: Great Hair.

Me: Thanks!

Guy: You Spanish?

Me: Nope.

Guy: You Sure.

Me: Yup.

I just walked away. Was he insulting my intelligence? My mother's honor? I'm still not sure.

Geography Fale

Overheard at the QT.

Dumb Girl: "Wait? Where is Australia? By England?"

Holy shit! This girl misplaced an entire CONTINENT!

Dumber Girl: "No. Australia is down."

Holy shit! This girl thinks "down" is a cardinal direction!