Another Christmas Concert Is Over

You might not think that putting on a school Christmas concert is much work. But let me tell you, it is a LOT of WORK! Particularly since it is me who does most of it.

Here is what I did this year: kindergarten - accompanied them on the piano for one song and did another song with them which included instruments.


Grade 1 - two songs, both of which required props, including reindeer antlers, lights, bells, sticks, and presents.


Grade 1-4 choir - two songs, both with props. One was accompanied by the grade 5 xylohphone ensemble and had all the choir kids playing instruments as well. The other song was Jolly Santa, and required props, including various props to dress up the feminist version of Santa, who was a girl.


My class also sang a song about a funny snowman with the grade 4 xylophone ensemble, which required more props - the kids dressed up the snowman on the stage complete with carrot nose, scarf, top hat, buttons, and mittens.


Then there was the grade 6 six song, The 12 days of Christmas in the Grade 6 room, for which I played piano. For the grade 7 play I accompanied one student for Silent Night.


Then there was the staff piece which was "Rock Around the Christmas Tree", a take-off of Rock Around the Clock. This included a female vocalist, me on piano, drums and guitar in a 12/8 blues version of the piece with one couple doing some crazy jiving around a puny little Christmas tree.


After that, all the staff got up and I accompanied them for We Wish You a Merry Christmas.

The concert was a big success, and I actually got a standing ovation and a bouquet of flowers at the end! WOW! That sure felt good, considering all the work that I put into it. I also received my first piece of "Native" art as a further thank-you for all my work - a silver "Raven" pendant made by local artist Alvin Mack.

Realize that rehearsals start immediately after Remembrance Day (for which I put on an assembly with some original tunes, choir, xylophones, etc) and go on until the day of the concert. The last two days, all the groups practice on the stage. Many times during concerts, the kids freeze, and stand up there looking like deer caught in the headlights, with me the only one singing. This year, however, all the groups sang the best they've ever sung!

Other news: I finished my second course for my Special Education Certificate from the University of Saskatchewan, and sent of the copies of my DVD "Dhamma Sisters of the Himalayas: The Nuns of Yangchen Choling" to Vietnam to be played at the Sakydhita World Buddhist Women's Conference.

The fiddle band I play in had a gig at the hospital Christmas party last week, and another one this week at the Norwegian "Yuletree Fest". Tomorrow night is my "Dickens and Delicacies" party, Monday night is a Christmas jam at a friend's house, and Tuesday is Christmas caroling. I'm spending a few days in Vancouver to do a little shopping and take a few more bass guitar lessons. A busy Christmas season!

Merry Christmas to you all!

The Empty Nest

Thinking of empty nests is what most people think of when their children finally leave home, after twenty years or so of residing with their family.



But this is the story of a different kind of empty nest. It's the story of my empty nest, empty because a fox ate my chickens. Well, I don't actually know if it was a fox or not, but yes, my girls are gone. Gone to the great nest in the sky, leaving their little earthly nest empty.



I miss my girls, Ginger, Cinnamon and Nutmeg. We always chattered away in chicken language when we got up in the morning and I fed them, and again whenever I came home from wherever I was. I called and they came running. Even though I knew they were just looking for food, they were always a great welcoming committee.



It was about a week ago. There had been snow, and they really didn't like the snow at all. They had stopped laying, and all they would do was hang out in their coop. I would go out and cluck cluck to them, and they would cluck cluck back, so I knew they were in there. One afternoon, I came home from work.....to silence. Oh, I thought, they must have gotten brave and be out wandering around somewhere. They'll be back at dusk. Dusk came, but no girls. The next morning, no girls. The next afternoon, still no sign of them. I wandered all around the property, looking for signs, a feather, blood, a foot........nothing.

Now, I am preparing for some new girls. I am building a new chicken coop in woodworking class. A deluxe model, insulated, with a window, and doors that latch to keep those nasty predators out.

I really wish that my girls had been spirited magically away to that big nest in the sky, but alas, I know its not true. I hate to think that might have suffered. I hope that foxy loxy enjoyed his fine feathered dinner, and that he killed them quickly.

Goodbye, chickapops. May you roost in peace.

The Story in a Jar of Soup


When you think of soup, do you think of Campbell's? Or some sort of powdered soup mix? Instant ramen noodle soup complete with bowl? A microwave quickie? Something you pick up from the shelf of your favorite grocery store? Or do you make homemade soup? With hearty, healthy ingredients? Is soup something you make for a quick lunch? Is it a quick way to get your veggies for the day?



This is the story of some very special soup. These beautiful jars of homemade soup contain within them many memories, many stories, and as you can see, lots of veggies. Of course, they are veggie soup, but not just any veggie soup.

First, this soup is the story of last summer, and my garden. Then, this soup is the story of the flood. Then, it tells the story of everyone who helped me after the flood. And last, this is the most delicious soup I have ever eaten, made infinitely more delicious because of the many stories it tells, and the memories it invokes.

Last summer, I grew a garden. I ordered the seeds, dug and fertilized the soil, then planted on the May 24th weekend, when all the old timers say to plant your garden. I watered the garden, weeded, and tended, all through the hot, hot summer. The veggies grew: chard, beets, kale, carrots, onions, potatoes, beans, pumpkin, squash. What a wonderful harvest in the fall. TIme to pick, and bring the harvest into the kitchen, then wash, chop, blanch and freeze in the chest freezer in the basement. My in-house winter veggie supply. I was set.

Then came the flood. When I came home on the day of the flood, to water pouring into the basement, and rivers and streams all around rising to who knew what heights, my neighbours had been to my house and raised the freezer with its precious edibles inside up about two feet off the basement floor. But the water kept rising. I took out some of the food and took it to another neighbour's freezer, and put what I could into my fridge freezer. But I had to leave some behind in the basement freezer. I came home the next day, and my poor freezer was floating, back up, lid flopped open. The remaining stuff, including my veggies and some cherries, as well as some fish and apple juice that belonged to some other neighbours, was starting to thaw. My poor veggies, the frozen remains of my long summer of gardening, were starting to thaw. What could I do with it all? I brought a big basket of semi-thawed veggies and cherries up to the fridge, hoping to eat some, and to give the rest away.

My friend, Mary Mack, came over to have a look at the wreckage in my basement on the Monday after the flood. Hey, she said, I'll take all your thawed veggies home and make you some soup! WOW! I never thought of that, as I couldn't use my water at that point, plus I had no canning jars or a canner. So she took all the veggies home, made a big batch of veggie soup, with all my thawed beans, kale, chard, plus added some carrots, tomatoes, and onion soup mix, She put it into 8 one quart canning jars, and pressure canned the lot for 90 minutes. I told her to keep half of it, but she said no. Another day, she arrived over to deliver the 8 quarts of lovely soup.

So now when I eat my soup, months after the harvest, weeks after the flood, I remember all those stories, the story of the glorious summer, my wonderful garden, the bountiful harvest, the flood waters, and all the friends who helped.

That is the story of the TASTIEST soup ever.