Coming home.

I'll bet that over the course of this project I write about four of these.  I come home to Minneapolis about that many times each year.

Coming home for me is good.  I didn't know that when I was itching to live in NY all those years ago that there would come a time when I really missed being near my family.  But I do, and I admit it that it's very hard being apart from them.  Especially knowing that I'm missing the formative years of my nieces and nephews.  And also that one day it'll just be me, and no more coming home.  I hate to write about that stuff, but it's true, and it isn't the first time it's crossed my mind.  I'm very envious of those that have their loved ones nearby.

Anyway, coming home this time began with a long wait while my parents inched through a two-hour traffic jam, followed by some good old-fashioned back-seat driving, questions about New York City, discussion on how New Yorkers say "on line" rather than "in line," yesterday's earthquake, hamburger grilling, sweet corn on the cob, mom telling me not to lean back in my chair, dad leaning back in his chair and almost falling over, mom asking dad if he needed a helmet over there, doing laundry since what I packed was all dirty, in-home security cameras, what it means to be in a major or minor key, and finally a little improv.

About a year or so ago, my parents acquired a little Everett spinet at an estate sale.  They were quite proud, since it is in beautiful shape, and only cost a little over $200.  And honestly, they got a great deal. But since I'm the only pianist in the family, and I only visit four times a year, they haven't gotten around to tuning it.  It seems to have been well maintained before we got it, but still.  Estate sale?  The thing is way, way out.  What should be an octave is more like a major ninth.

That being said, I wasn't sure what this next week of improvs was going to be like.  I even recorded some of the airport noise in case I couldn't get something I approved of at home.  But then, after I sat down and started to play, I decided that squeaky pedals and pulsating sound waves that you can almost taste they're so thick were kind of awesome.  Work with whatchya' got, that's what I say.

Here we go, Day 10:
and Day 10, part 2:

And see that little white box to the left of the TV?  That's another security camera that my parents got for their quaint little fortress of a home.  It was on sale.  Rock bottom, dad says.  And supposedly it barks.  They don't have it hooked up anywhere permanent so that they can move it around wherever it is most needed.  So where they have it now, well, they can watch people watch TV.  Dad says people look pretty stupid when they watch TV.  I asked if he ever watched himself watch TV.  He said no.