Sundry Sophomore Soliloquoys, vol. 5

In which our hero finishes the week on Friday....


So, it's come to this....

No, it really has. End of the week and this is the end of this many-volume blog post anthology. I hope that the reading has merited the time it has likely taken. I can't say it was a terrifyingly interesting week. I was pleased with it on the whole.

But back to our narrative....


Today began like many of these days have: Alarm, make coffee, shower, stumble, sip coffee, stumble, sip coffee, scratch head trying to remember what I forgot, sip coffee, make bagged lunch, sip coffee, and rinse and repeat actions, starting from 'stumble.' I am rather pitiful when I wake up early. Zombie-ish you might even say.

-Interjection: I have been remiss this week in not expressing gratitude to the most wonderful neighbor person in the world, Mrs. P. Who was generous enough to let me ride to and, when necessary, from campus with her. She would put up with me, whether it was being anti-social and dozing off, or being over social for lack of Lutheran social stimuli. Ain't nobody got neighbors as awesome as mine.

I got to school about eight. I had an hour until my first class, so I killed the time practicing blues patterns, which are fun once you figure them out but are terribly tedious to practice.  Thirty minutes of practicing later, I walked down the hall and chilled outside my Theory classroom talking DnD with a classmate, sharing silly memories from various encounters or campaigns. I might have to look into doing a DnD group on Fridays.... But then, I really need to use that time for homework or music... c'est la vie de la Musique Major.

Be warned, I might start dropping French phrases in my posts, to try and exercise my knowledge.

Theory class went off without a hitch. Every answer I had was correct, and I didn't waste any time getting those answers. It will be a great way to begin my non-busy days. Maybe I'll even get some writing done if I don't have a lot of homework late in the semester.

After Theory class, I mingled for about fifteen minutes and then sat down to practice more piano, and a little bit of opera. I learned that there was free food today, which, you must understand, is hard to beat. Especially hard to beat is the prospect of extra protein in my daily diet. So I walked across campus to the free food, and then back to Rhinehart, free food in tow. On the way I spotted a group of Freshies doing homework and cloistering themselves in the midst of their classmates. As it was a passing fair day, I decided that instead of going in and sitting in the student lounge, I would sit outside and talk with them. The conversation revolved around choir starting today, and their own varying degrees of choral experience. They asked about U.Singers, what kind of rep. we did last year, etc.

I sat talking with them for some time, and then it was time for piano. I had rather a lot of fun in piano today. Our assignments for today were to play the blues, minor scales, and playing "Twinkle, Twinkle" by ear. Then the fun part, modulating "Twinkle" into minor. It sounds really funny, and somehow really epic. One of my fellow basses and I went from the class singing "Twinkle" a la minor, an octave down in our best Bassi Profundi impressions. It's healthy to sing when walking down the hall, it helps remind people who don't get to hear me sing much that I am a bass. We wouldn't want them thinking me a tenor. That would not do.

I went about doing nothing really at all, trying to find a practice room. When I finally had one, it wasn't long before U.Singers. I practiced a bit and went to choir.

Choir today was special. It was the first rehearsal of the new year with a new director. Exciting stuff. When we had dispensed with introductions, Dr. Busarow declared that we would sing first, read syllabus second. We pulled out the music and opened it to the "Cantique de Jean-Racine."
 Dr. Busarow asked, "So, who here has sung this piece before?" I raised my hand, expecting at least a few others. But no one else raised their hand. People who knew me already laughed. They knew I was a bit of a geek, and it figured that I would have sung the piece no one else had ever sung. It is a beautiful piece, and good fun to sing and allowing a proper bass line.

On a side note, the men are divided into TI, TII, BI/Bar., B2. Of the bass 2s, I am the only non-freshman music major; making me the senior member of the section, which actually holds true in age too, funny enough.

As choir ended, I milled about in the hallway, chatting with friends until my extraction team arrived.

And then I was home. I had pool-o'clock, drank tea, and had delicious Kraft mac with my wonderful little brother, who entertained me as I wrote with his commentary while playing "Forza 4."

In summary, it has been a long week. There is much work to be done, not terribly much time to do it, and a long semester of early wake-ups and bag lunches ahead of me. But for all that, there is knowledge, friendship, experience, and maybe, if I'm lucky, wisdom to be had. My semester could turn out to be crazy. As it stands it doesn't look bad, but it can change, or I may be underestimating the workload. Any way that it turns out, I will carry through this academic year, improve my skills as a musician, and maybe, just maybe, learn some French.

The former pair are certainly worth looking forward to, the third, well, jury's still out on French.

Thank you for reading. It has been a pleasure to share this first week with you. I would like to thank my sponsors, my mama and my papa, who have underwritten my college venture and have provided more than the money's worth in love and support. I would like to thank my backer (the person standing behind me poking me, telling me I should do things when I propose that I should do them, you know who you are.) And I would like to thank the number 5 and the word "Vici." As in: Doppleganger, although I did not intend to compete with you in length of blog posts, I will point out that, while you wrote one long post, I have exceeded it in my five volumes.

Either way, I hope this has been enjoyable -or at least not boring- reading.

Thank you for reading.

Sundry Sophomore Soliloquoys, vol. 4

-In which our hero talks about Thursday....


The week is drawing to a close. This is the second to last volume of this series, my school week ending as it does on Friday.

My day began early, again. A light-less rising, when I bounded out of bed as my alarm screamed bloody murder at me. Early wake-ups are much harder when the sun isn't shining. Or maybe the sun was shining, but my eyes were sealed by sleepishness.

But I digress.

I scrambled about my morning preparation, trying to pull together the minutia of my day. I had a lot to bring with me, Repertoire books, paperwork for tutoring and such. I had to make coffee, prepare my lunch box (bag actually), and make sure that all of my books were in order. I also went about the important business getting properly caffeinated. I managed to drink a large cup of coffee to supplement my small travel mug.

When I arrived at school, I had only a little business to attend to. I practiced a wee bit of piano, mostly Blues patterns. I was waiting for the eight o'clock classes to end; for Dr. North's first Sight singing class to end. When it ended, I approached him and asked if he would mind filling out a recommendation form for a job tutoring the theory courses he teaches, which he taught when I attended them. He agreed, and told me he'd return them to me in an envelope.

At nine Dr. Bookout's Music Lit. class began, and I became more determined that I was going to love her class. We talked about Gregorian chant, the notation, the prayer offices and ordinaries, and the acoustics and spaces it was written for. Which translates to, listening to and reading chants and looking at pictures of Chartres. I was so happy when I realized I could name all the ordinaries and propers of the medieval Mass without prompting. Dr. Bookout is an excellent professor, and I look forward to hearing everything she has to say about her subject matter.

I then had French class, but that has not really changed much. It's still madness. There may be method, but that doesn't change the madness.

My next class was at one-thirty, and until that time I had to eat lunch and occupy the time. I learned that one of my classmates was performing out in the amphitheater outside of the Music Building, and I decided to check it out. There was also, as I had heard from fellow starving artists, food to be had for free. I couldn't say no to that.

When I got out to the amphitheater it was about fifteen minutes until my classmate was billed to perform. I had not realized it, but there were still canvas lawn chairs available, also for free. I grabbed a free lawn chair and my free grub and chatted with another music student until the music I was interested in hearing started. When she did perform, my classmate did a couple of original songs and a couple of covers. She has a much better voice than the original artists and the effect was quite pleasant.

I went inside and got my act together for Sight-singing with Dr. K. Once more, this class doesn't change much from day to day. However, this class is no madness at all. It's always strictly structured and rigorously taught. Which is important when you are teaching a bunch of young musicians how to fly by the seat of their pants.

Ah yes, Convocation; It was the first convocation of the semester and they had arranged a nice line-up of performances. But first the business, including recognizing Dean's list and Semester's Honors students.

-Interjection: My ego is slightly swollen, as I fall into both of those lists.

....After the recognition of the lists, the major music related student organizations gave presentations; the department chair made a short address, and, when the business was done, came the performances. On the docket was Jason and the head of the piano division, playing a Mozart piano duet; Drew, star tenor of our music program, singing an aria from Faust; and the Trombone ensemble, performing an impressive all brass setting of "Nearer My God to Thee." The music was excellent, a good way to show the Freshies what it's all about.

Opera was shortly after Convo. Opera was long today. We read dialogues, but my character has none, so I had nothing to do. I was more than eager to leave the building aboard the Peril chariot at the end of the day and to return to my home of hominess.

Tomorrow is the last day of the first week...

But that is for then.

Thanks for reading.

Sundry Sophomore Soliloquoys, vol. 3

In which our hero whittles away writing about a Wednesday....


Continuing our sequential plot line of summary posts, today was Wednesday.

Indeed, it was the first day of serious classwork for Theory, although that consisted of review of last semester....

-Interjection: I was afraid that I would not be able to do theory and analysis as quickly, having neglected those skills over the summer... I needn't have worried, I was completing problems about as fast as I could identify the pitches... which was fast.

....I had a good time during that class. Dr. Johnson is going to be great to have as a professor. I've missed theory. I might have to pursue composition merely to explore the possibilities presented by the vast world of theory. I love it.

After Theory had ended, I walked with some classmates across campus to where a local breakfast place was catering an ISPGA event. It was decent food, and more protein to add to my daily diet. Shortly after food was my third day of French. I have struggled to get onto my feet with French. I pick up words quickly, and I understand what people are saying very fast, but I got confused by the two fifteen page documents, the Programme Detailles and the Syllabus. I believe I now know what I must do and it is simply a matter of finding the time to do it.

Immediately after French I took off for piano. Piano has always been one of my easier prospects, today was no exception. We were assigned to do five-finger pattern warm-ups for next class, but I was able to do the patterns proficiently today, thus saving me the time on Friday. It was a straight forward class, we were assigned the twelve-bar blues and to review minor scales.

When piano had ended, I had nothing to do til Vocal Jazz, an extra-curricular ensemble, not a class.

When I arrived for Jazz, about two minutes late, I quickly realized I was one of only four guys in the room. I was then informed that two of them were tenors, and that as it stood, we were only guaranteed us two for basses. We went through the business for the ensemble; electing new officers, proposing fundraising plans. Then, came the election of section leaders, as one of two basses present, and between us the only voice major, I was made bass section leader. I was not particularly enthused by the idea, but then, I don't have to be. I figured I could do the job as well as just about anybody.

Jazz was the end of my day. Afterwards I walked across campus to meet with Mrs. P to catch a ride home with her.

When I had gotten home, I met my family for foodtrucks. A good way to end the day.

And that, essentially, was my Wednesday.

Thanks for reading.

Sundry Sophomore Soliliquoys, vol. 2

In which our hero thinks about Tuesday....


Today, following in the footsteps of yesterday, as it must, I will speak of today; of such things as did pass through my time that I did behoove worthy of further contemplation.

Exemplia Gratia: This morning began late. I over slept and only had twenty-five minutes to remove my carcass from bed, prepare, and traipse through the door. I had planned on a solid hour. There was stuff to get done, things to fetch, papers to locate (more on that later,) food to eat, and coffee to drink. Instead I headed out the door at twenty-five to eight having not eaten breakfast or had any coffee, save the eight-ounce travel mug in my hand, a meager allotment  at best. The papers I had meant to locate were my application papers for the CASA tutoring center, especially the professor-signed recommendation sheet, which I had intended to have signed this morning by the esteemed Dr. North of Theory I and II.

A rough beginning, to be sure. One I hope not to repeat.

When I arrived on campus, I dallied some, swerving back and forth mindlessly until the bookstore opened. I went to the computer lab to print off some papers for my classes, including my fifteen page French syllabus and Programme Detailles. Then it was half past, and the bookstore was open. I had purchased my hundred and forty dollar French text a couple nights before, and I had received notification that it was available for pick-up. I approached the counter, asked for it, and received my bookstore bag that contained it. I pulled the text from the bag, eager to see what had cost so much....

Pages.... Unbound pages. Albeit, they were laminated and hole punched....

One hundred and forty dollars had bought me a few hundred pages of unbound textbook....

As you can imagine, this did not improve my morning.

After this disappointment, I had Music Lit. I knew Dr. Bookout, loosely, from her work with the Bach Collegium as a consultant and period musician. I knew that she played magnificently and knew more about music history than just about anybody in Ft. Wayne. Her class was packed, filled with new sophomores, people who had missed her class last year, or people who had already failed it and come back. The room was full, there was not a seat to be had.

And it was dead silent.

Dr. Bookout speaks very softly, almost in a manner of reverence for her subject matter. She didn't raise her voice so we could hear her, we had to listen. And we did, we hung on every word she spoke. We didn't waste much time on the syllabus. We looked over it, put it aside and got down to history. We talked about style, musical elements, and the reasons for musical development; the basic building blocks of music history.

After Music Lit. I had a little while until French. I sat down to work on an assignment with a classmate until such a time as we had to leave. French class was unremarkable. We learned some more basic bits of kit and generally had an easy time of it. I volunteered and was an amiable buffoon, opening doors and then being told she had said 'frappez a la porte' and then, obligingly, if embarrassed, rapping on the door with my knuckles.

After French I had a break until Sight-singing. I didn't do much. I don't have repertoire selected yet, and the only thing I had to practice was opera (granted I should have practiced that but I didn't.) I ate my lunch and sat around talking to a classmate and one of the Freshman (my teacher's son.) Sight-singing was fabulous, if terrifying, but that comes with the territory. Dr. K was as polite and brutally honest as ever,which I love....

-Brief interjection. I took voice with Dr. K for about three years, in which time she pretty much single handedly  saved my voice from destruction through this brutal honesty-

.... I was shaking in my boots about sight-singing. But I knew that, if I did my part, Dr. K would do everything in her power to make sure I did well.

(Looks at clock and realizes how close it is to being Wednesday, better wrap up.)

After Sight-singing was Performance class. It was exactly what was expected, telling all the freshies what's up. After Perf. was Opera. It was also very much a syllabus/organization class period.

After opera, I texted Patchy for evac. His class didn't finish for a while, but I appreciated the chance to sit still.

That's it. I'm done. And no, I am not going to enter a post length spitting contest with the Doppleganger.
Tune in tomorrow for another exciting adventure... or not.....

Thanks for reading.

Sundry Sophomore Soliloquoys, vol. 1

In which our hero reflects on a Monday....


On this day, in the year of our Lord 2013, the month being August, the twenty-sixth of the month, I began the new semester of school, my sophomore year.

I have been looking forward to school. I missed the structure, the tangible progress of my semesters in the music building. I missed having work to do, having problems to solve, rhythm and rhyme to reason and resolve. School represented a growth in knowledge and ability which is difficult to match outside of the disciplined context of academic study. I am hoping that the developing discipline of the school year will continue to grow into my down time. I did more work this semester than I have ever really done in an unenforced context previously

But I digress, all this speaks to the pre-semester thoughts, this blog post is themed for this semester starting today. Entschuldigung.


My day began early, very early. I woke at 6:40, stumbled my way to the shower, and groped my way about my morning prep. I will be waking earlier when Lauds shifts to its school year time of seven-am. I look forward to the time when I will be able to continue such disciplines, which I find to be the best way to start the day....

Once, more, I have diverged from the subject at hand. Krosis.

So, having prepped my box-lunch, I searched for a travel mug which I could carry my coffee in; however, woe of woes, there was not a sizable mug to be found. I left the house, bereft and caffeine deprived.

I did some first day prep, procuring my locker, printing my schedule, figuring out which books I needed that day. I went to the bookstore, learned they didn't have my last textbook reserved yet, and bought my piano workbook for my class piano. I returned to the music building, and settled in for my first class, nine-am Theory III. I was instantaneously surrounded by some of my favorite people from freshman theory, as well as some favored classmates who had to retake it. Dr. Johnson is an excellent personality. A wit, a man who genuinely enjoys the work he is doing and delights in sharing it. We'll get along swimmingly.

After theory, I had a brief respite. My next class didn't start until eleven-am, so I went about some of the additional business I had to complete. I walked across campus to the CASA tutoring center and procured for myself the paperwork prerequisite of working as a tutor. From there I texted my merciful brother, and begged that he should provide caffeination that I might survive the day. He graciously did provide it, and I continued my day with eleven-am French.

French is my only non-music class this semester and, funny enough, when I entered the class this morning, four of my fellow students were music majors. I settled in next to one of them and sat through the syllabus and a little bit of introductory French in the form of name games.

After French I had nothing to do, earlier in the day I had signed up for my re-audition for U.Singers, but the excerpt to be prepared was simple, and I was not worried for the audition (But more on that later.) I waylaid the Freakishly-tall Tenor and Mufasa who were out enjoying the sun and waiting for free food. I chilled with them and followed when they removed from the company of the Sopranos towards the music building. I hung out with them in the Lounge for a good hour, re-acclimating myself to socializing with my music peeps.

Mufasa and I practiced the excerpt, it was simple, consisting of a bass line not untypical in choral music, four or five notes repeated, sometimes in different octaves, but at simple intervals. At two-twenty I went into my audition and sang for Dr. Busarow, the new head of choral. I was having a strange day, vocally. I sang an Eb 2 on bottom and a G# 4 on top. My normal is a D2 on bottom with maybe the F4 on top. Strange day.

After my audition, I went home with my mama and, having arrived home, held a baby for half an hour and sat down, I fell asleep. I took a nap, a long nap.

There isn't much more to say. I was attempting to find out what had me stressed today, by working back through it. It didn't really work. I think there must have been a wide array of small antagonizing thoughts that made up my anxiety train.
Perhaps the light of tomorrow morning will illumine the darkness...

Tune in tomorrow for more.

Thanks for reading.

Lawyers And Ditches

In which our hero contemplates today's Gospel reading....


A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho. On the way, he fell among thieves and was left, beaten, bloodied, naked and dying in a ditch. He lay in the ditch, and while he lay there, a Levite came down the road, but he passed by. Later on, a priest also came near, but he passed by. The man continued dying, trapped in the ditch and unable to help himself. But then a Man came near, a Samaritan, despised of the Jews, a wayfarer and outcast in His time, He was journeying on that same road between Jerusalem and Jericho, and, seeing the man in the ditch, He had compassion for the man. He stepped into the ditch, miring Himself in the filth of that place, carrying the dying man out of there, binding his wounds and setting him on His own animal. The Man walked leading the animal with its cargo to the Place of Recovery. Therein He offered the price for the continuing care of the injured man and promised to pay for any expense he might incur. He left, continuing on His journey, leaving behind Him a promise of return.

There was a certain lawyer who had fallen among demons and sought to put the Christ to the test. He asked, "What must I do to inherit eternal life?" The Christ answered, "What is written in the Law, how do you read it?" The lawyer said, "Love God and man perfectly." The Christ answered, "Correct, do this, and you will live." The lawyer became desperate, he was bleeding, laying in a ditch, robbed of his confidence, naked before the law. He had to find a loophole, "Who, in specific, must I love perfectly?" The Christ tells him a parable about a man in a ditch, trapped unable to be helped, and then he tells of the one who did help. Christ changes the question, "Who proved neighbor to the man?" "The one who showed mercy" and then Christ says, "Go, and do likewise."

The parable Christ tells is describing the very state of the lawyer, he is on the road to Jerusalem, and he falls into a great sin. The man in the parable has left the city of peace, he has left the presence of the temple, even while the Levite and the Priest are traveling thence, likely on their way to the temple to make their sacrifices. The lawyer asks his question, the answer is too true, too close to home. The Law walks past on the other side of the road, unable to help him, lest it be rendered unclean: unlawful. The lawyer had received a just answer, if he wanted the Law, that is what he would have.

But Christ, the Samaritan comes, an outcast and despised of the people. He has compassion on the lawyer, He changes the question, He changes the actor. He tells the lawyer what the lawyer can trust in when he is in the ditch: the Man, journeying to Jerusalem, a Man who descends into the filth the lawyer lives in and pulls him out, binds his gaping wounds and provides for his well being until He returns. He gives the lawyer the promise, the Law can't save him, only the compassion of the Merciful Samaritan can save him.

Then Christ asks, who was neighbor to the man? The one who showed him mercy. Who, in all of history, has ever proven neighbor to His fellow man? Who has loved His neighbor as Himself, withheld nothing, offered up everything for the sake of love? Only He that hung naked on the cross, who, though He were King, owned nothing, and in the fullness of time, gave up even His own life for sinful men, though He was despised and rejected by the world.

Why then, why does the Christ say "Go and do likewise"?

The answer, I believe is clear. "For I desired mercy, and not sacrifice; and the knowledge of God more than burnt offerings." (Hosea 6:6) It is an exhortation to good works. Christ does not require the lawyer to make His sacrifice. But now that the lawyer knows what he has been given, he knows how he should respond. 

The lawyer has been invited by Christ to be a Christian, to follow Him. The lawyer will stumble, fall into sin and never follow His example perfectly. But Christ will be there, there to pull him out of the ditch, there to take him to the Inn of Recovery, where He offers the lawyer His Body and His Blood, promising that whatever the lawyer's soul, He has paid it. And more, for he promises to return for the lawyer.

Blessed are they, who have seen what we have seen, the risen Lord, coming with the clouds of heaven, under the Bread and the Wine given for Christians to eat and to drink until He returns.

Blessed are we, for Jesus Christ is our neighbor and our Merciful Samaritan.


Thanks for reading.

Retreating To Victory

In which our hero, classically, begins with "Once upon a time"....

So then, once upon a time, in an ancient land of bogs and buildings, there was a great gathering of brilliant and wonderful people. These people, labeled "Lutheran homeschoolers," are a singular breed; diverse in personality, original in conversation, and having gifts and interests that vary as much as their locations of origin. It was a gathering of minds for what was labeled a retreat of the family (an accurate label indeed).

The week was filled by the constant companionship of the Otter and his Doppleganger, Nimagist. This pair, glorious in Leaguing, magnificent in scheming, and possessed of a predisposition towards deep conversation, were excellent company and have beds under this roof any time that they should choose to claim them. A singular pair of gents. Along with Capt. von Corgi, we spent the week gallivanting and carrying on, (in the young Lutheran manner, i.e. regular church attendance and discussion of theological mores mingled with a healthy dose of Spiderman; i.e. "the Lutheran manner," minus beer.)

Speaking of regular church attendance, I love attending the Lord's service with a huge group of people who know how to sing harmony. Hearing ostinattos ringing through the arches of the sanctuary, tenor and alto lines being filled in where they seldom are, and hearing other people singing bass with me... Fun stuff. Daily communion and prayer with a massive convocation of my church family. And, to boot, the glory of serving as acolyte, not only with my blood brother, but with my other brothers in Christ. For three days--the length of the retreat--we had prayer offices and communion. Three glorious days.

Which, if you hadn't guessed, is the segue into the next paragraph... but I digress.

-Addendum- The party, kind-of, started on Monday with the unofficially-official kick-off party at Crazy Tony's. (Pseudonyms used to protect the innocent, or the guilty. Not that I'm officially acknowledging culpability in anything.)

The first day was a Tuesday, a thoroughly unremarkable day of the week according to most weeks, but glorious for the sake of circumstance. The morning was spent with Capt. von Corgi, preparing for guests to arrive at the church and in the family home, preparing for the retreat and impending guests at home, the Family de Violin and the aforementioned duo. These preparations are fairly well typified by that often spoken, many times heard saying concerning a certain kind of poultry that has suffered capital truncation. But Tuesday progressed in a surprisingly nonviolent manner, filled with educative and interesting plenaries and sectionals, and crowned with a game-night and potluck, which turned into more of an "everyone about your socializing and fraternization and leave the adults to their beers" night.

Wednesday was a busy day. It began early and ran late, spanning the spectrum from prayer in the morning, to dancing till the cows came home. That day, I led a book discussion concerning sheep and fads; later, even that very same day, I taught a sectional on the transition from homeschooling to college, assisted by the Doppleganger: Nimagist; which mostly consisted of talking about sheeps and fads. There was Vespers that day; and a dinner that day, served by the Ragin' Cajun, a man of vision, whose food knows no bounds of culinary resplendence. That evening there was dancing, hosted and provisioned by the Squirrel, another example of a talented Lutheran person. I love dancing, I'm not very good, but the longer it's going the less I care about that. The evening wrapped up with an ill-advised night swim in the 60-degree pool, instigated by the Generalissimo, and a long, deep conversation with the Dopplegangers.

Wait for it, I know it occurred to somebody. "Dancing then swimming in freezing water? weren't you sore?"

Oh yes.

Thursday morning began with pain, soreness inexpressible except by the very groanings of the Spirit.

But, once more, I digress. For most people, Thursday began with Matins, but I was too much of a pansy to overcome tiredness and soreness to attend. I showed up in time for the rest of the day's events to begin. There was a sectional, taught by the Rt. Rev. Seminarist. The topic of his sectional was, "Law and Gospel in [thatmusical/bookwhicheverybodylovesandwhichImayormaynotcurrentlybein-thefrenchone]." A very enjoyable topic. After the sectional, we all went to Mass. After Mass we went to harass Capt. von Corgi at his workplace, and then to the Farmers of Legumes and we went for a walk. We had a  spectacular time, but I did then leave lamentably early for a brush-up rehearsal for [thatmusicalwhicheverybodyloves -thefrenchone].

And that was it. The retreat was over. However, it was Friday, and there was still comradery of the Homeschooled Lutheran variety to be found. A small group of said people had remained behind to attend a performance of [thatmusicalwhicheverybodyloves -thefrenchone], and we all spent the day together. The assembled parties were, Myself, the Squirrel, the Dopplegangers: Nimagist and Otter, the Farmers of Legumes, Ms. Donau, and the Lady of Hippo. The good Capt. von Corgi was about his day's work once more at the Sandwich parlor of James-Johannes, from whence he did, in due time, join us. That evening, many of them attended the aforementioned production and a good time was had by all discussing it.

But alas, as with all things this fairy tale did come to an end--for woe of woes-- came Saturday, the day appointed for the Doppleganger: Nimagist, the Lady of Hippo, the Squirrel, and Ms. Donau, should leave to return to their home country, the city of Directionalcurve (and the Squirrel to the northern reaches, of which names I shall not speak). There was much weeping, and tears shed all around. Gifts of farewell, in the form of carafes filled with coffee for the road, were presented. Oaths of pilgrimage were vowed, and we bid a farewell to friends.

And here sit I, too many days after the fact, finally sitting down to record my version of events for posterity, and that only because I mentioned it in passing to Ms. Donau, who was good enough to hold me to my own plans. It was a good time, a time of fellowship, grace, and thanksgiving for the blessings I have received. Not the least of which blessings are my church, my family (both blood and church), for food, and for friendship so often taken for granted. As I have met more and more people and grown to know them, I have learned the value of a true friend, not just a fun person to be with, but a brother-in-arms against the devil, the world, and my own sinful nature. I am fortunate to have an abundance of just such.

Nope, not quite done, but hold your horses it'll all be over with soon. And not only in the cosmic sense....

This week reminded me, as these things always do, of how central my church life is to me. These people, my people, my church-family, are as close and dear to me as many of my extended family. And I love my extended family; that is no belittling of them. The mutual consolation of the brethren was quite visible and tangible amongst those who were gathered.

Sigh.

Nope, not finished... I will make an end when I am finished.

Capt. von Corgi took off this week to visit self same friends. They sojourned in a massive expedition to the far sands and the great inland sea. I did not realize I would be able to go, and thus I was left at home, the Mama having left for the East to visit the She-wolf and her adorable little Hellian, my niece. The Generalissimo was also with me, however, he worked at the Maul from the morn until eve on all but the last day of von Corgi's absence. I was so lonely, I went out and slew a zucchini dragon and returned with it and prepared many a cookie. Aside from that I did lounged, except for doing laundry, and called Von Corgi to complain to him, and anyone who would listen, about my plight of loneliness.

Now, Capt. von Corgi has returned, and existence is almost back to the holding pattern. Life continues much as it always has, full of its comings and goings. Otter has long since returned to the Academie de Bawl State, the Mama will return soon, and the run of [thatmusicalwhicheverybodyloves -thefrenchone] is on its final weekend. School will start soon. Winter is coming and we'd best be ready.

And I think that this shall be for sufficiency. I have vented my thoughts, even though I knew not what to write. I have bored you to tears and now you are reading this and realizing I am drawing out the end as much as possible just to see if you'll keep reading....

Congratulations, you made it.

Thanks for reading.

By the way, remember, if you are feeling good about yourself for humoring me and reading all of this, stop it! you've just gone and ruined that whole good work! Tsk tsk.

Sigh. Well, thanks anyway.... I guess. I hope you enjoyed it.