Rosalie Has Arrived!

Calloo, callay, Gentle Readers, I chortle, for today is a frabjous day! I picked up my mandolin at the post office this morning, not being able to sleep the night before out of sheer excitement, and I thought, why wait for them to deliver it when the post office is a ten minute drive? So I called as soon as they were open, and sure enough, they had it and would keep it back for me to pick it up, which I did. And I am very glad I did, oh Readers, because if I hadn't, she would have had to stay outside in weather just above freezing, getting rained on and chilled. What a way to treat an instrument! By picking her up she never had to brave the elements, always a nice bonus.

I took my mandolin home and unwrapped her, and here she is! Let me introduce you to Rosalie (whose name, of course, I explained in a previous blog post. To give you a short recap, she is NOT named after the recent Great Big Sea song in which Rosalie features prominently. No. She is named after the red-headed cartoon hillbilly girl that was in a Bugs Bunny lo, these many years ago.)

That box she is in is her original Stagg box -- but the people I bought her from, who are in Missouri, had wrapped her in ANOTHER box, plus more shipping materials. It was totally a mandolin coffin. There was quite a lot of bubble wrap involved too, lol. I stripped all of that off, and snapped this pic. You can kind of see some of the packing material behind her headstock and the lid of the box. Don't worry, she's not really that red in real life, more of a nice chestnut color. I am already calling her 'my little redhead' -- more on that later!

This next snap is her sitting more or less upright (at a big angle, lol). Don't worry, those orange blotches are not actually on the finish, that is a reflection of the overhead light in the room! My camera's flash occasionally does some weird things. Now, those of you who have seen mandolins before may notice that Rosalie looks a little different. Your eyes are not deceiving you. She is in fact a left-handed instrument and unlike many if not most other current mandolins (or, for that matter, most stringed instruments, like my guitar!) she was specifically designed and built from the ground up as a left handed machine. And I can tell you already, being a specific instrument for a lefty has made all the difference. I have only learned 4 chords (in ten minutes!!!) but I assure you, she's not fighting me nor is she trying to be something she's not.

Here are some closeup shots, the first one is of her soundboard:

You can kind of see the scratches here and there, particularly on the pick guard, which I am not too happy about. Yes, she is a cheap mandolin and yes she was built in China (sigh) but there's no need for such sloppy work. She is brand new and I am the first person to play her. More on that later, too!

This is a closeup of her headstock. Yep, she's a Stagg, an M20 L to be precise. Rosalie came to me totally detuned (and then some!) so if you're wondering why all the tuners are flat, that's why. I did finally manage to get her in tune, but it took me a full 70 minutes. Yep, you read that right. SEVENTY continuous minutes.

And yes, those are cheap ass nasty strings. They sound like shit and they have no play whatsoever, they are dead, dead, dead. I'm going to get those changed asap, probably when I get her setup, which with luck will happen in the next week or so. She came to me completely innocent -- absolutely nothing had been done to her. I doubt she'd even been taken out of her Stagg box from the Chinese factory where she was made, ever. I have tuned the strings as best as can, all things considered, but I'm going to go get her properly set up soon. Right now, her action is a little high and as you go up and down the fretboard, her intonation is a tad wobbly. I believe a bridge adjustment will fix both issues.

She is laminate, unfortunately, even if her body is basswood entirely. Her neck is nato/mahogany and her bridge is maple. Her bridge is adjustable, thank God. She is completely acoustic and hasn't got anywhere for anything electric to get plugged in or installed . . .but somehow I don't think volume is going to be an issue, see below.

Sound wise Rosalie is not nearly as bad as I was led to believe that any mando under $1000 sounds. Hell, I only paid $99 for her (list was $150). That said, she is NOT the sort of mando a professional would want for a gig. She's not even the kind of mandolin a serious amateur or semi-pro would want or need. She is a student class mandolin. BUT. She's a whole lot better than she was described online. Yes, she's tinny, but not too badly. And she's a redhead, all right, there's not a drop of mellowness in her. She's bright, loud, and very out there -- I will never have to worry about not being heard in a session. On the other hand as she's being brought to life (out of the box, tuned, first chords played, etc) she is developing some decent undertones as well as a bit of bass and the classic sweet mandolin tone *is* there, even if you have to listen hard to hear it. Her sound is acceptable to me now, and after she's set up with some better strings, I'm sure she'll get better. I am also hoping that as she ages (as my guitar did, 8 years later) she'll start to chill out and grow into an adult voice. My guitar sounds fabulous now, having lost all of the "OMG I'm a rock star and I'm LOUD and BRIGHT LOOKIT ME" it had when I bought it, haha. I suspect that Rosalie was built in the last 12 months. She's really young sounding :)

Rosalie's a keeper, that's for sure. As I get better and start moving from 'totally new and learning to play' into 'playing for others and learning songs, not notes' I will definitely want to move up to a mando that is just, well . . . *better*. Solid body, for one thing. Higher quality materials -- and better craftmanship. A more mellow, sweeter, richer sound. And, because I am a girl and do, rarely, have girly moments, here's hoping I can find one that's a little bit, well, *pretty*. Rosalie is functional but she's sparsely decorated.

All in all, I am very pleased with my purchase and am now going to learn some beginner things about how to play this mandolin that I've bought. Practice makes perfect!

This'n'That

My apologies, Gentle Readers, this is going to be a very stream-of-consciousness thing.

First up, YAY my mandolin has FINALLY shipped, they sent me the notice on We the 24th, which means that due to the holiday, and the weekend and so on, I will hopefully get it late next week, ie, Dec 1st-3rd, ideally. Since it's coming from Ebay, I am actually not sure where my mandolin is shipping from. The Ebay actual seller is a real musician, and their musician's shop says that they're based in Missouri. Well, all righty then. The only actual *store*, ie, retail supplier, I have ever found for this particular mandolin, however, is located in New York State, near the Hudson Valley (Adirondack Guitar, I believe their name is). So it could be coming from anywhere. All I know is that thankfully they are not using the United States Post Office to ship my instrument, thank goodness, although I haven't yet received a tracking # either like they said they would give me. I will wait until Monday, it being a holiday weekend, and then humbly ask my seller for one, since they said they would give me one. I believe they use Fedex and I hope that they package the mandolin well, I did NOT buy a case on Ebay for many reasons and Adirondack Guitar, well, let's just say that I can get the same case for about $20 less with FREE SHIPPING from the Music Center (dot com), which is even better than Amazon's pricing.

I am very excited about this. The chords etc for a mandolin are *much* easier than on my dreadnought guitar, the neck is smaller, and I believe that I will be able to more easily play specifically the 17th century dance music that I love, and that it will sound more historically correct too, which is always good. Yes, I am that dedicated to my hobby. Historic re-enacting gets inside of you in a way that is unlike many other (though not all) hobbies and eventually you become willing to spend inordinate amounts of money on your presentation, because you have fallen in love with living in a different time in history. Put it this way. I would never have thought about buying a mandolin, largely because I didn't think I could play it, until I picked up the guitar again and that happened not just because of Great Big Sea but also because at the same time, my living history group had a sudden deflux (outflux?) of very necessary musicians. I had to fill the gap, and so, the guitar, because it was what I had available. Then, I did my 17th century homework and realized a mandolin would much better suit, and my long-buried desire to learn some bluegrass also suddenly came to the fore, rather like some sort of emotional or physical breakthrough, in another context!

I already have a name for my mandolin too :) Those of you who are Great Big Sea fans reading this might think that I took the name from their recent song Have a Cuppa Tea, but I didn't. The name was inspired by a very vivid memory I have of a pretty red-headed hillbilly girl in a Warner Bros cartoon -- Rosalie. Speaking of which, if anybody knows the cartoon girl I am talking about and can find a picture of her or know which cartoon she's in, I would be eternally grateful. I could have sworn she was in Hill-Billy Hare, but apparently not.

I've recently been writing a fan fic with a friend and I have never tag-teamed my writing before, it's kind of fun. Although, given that she lives in another country we have to do it via a chat program and since the POV is currently in 1st person (for both characters, which makes it interesting) it's really more like a role play than writing a story. But I'm having fun with it.

I am still trying to figure out how to get to the gym and do the hours of ChaCha I need to do every day AND have time for music AND do this writing with my friend, and it's really not going very well. I haven't practiced my guitar for weeks and I've pretty much lost my calluses. I just can't figure out how to do everything. Since I work from home you 'd think it would be easier to do all of this (I mean, it's not like it's any more to do than a regular person has to do) but it's not.

and recently my sleep phase disorder has really been taking over and I have been sleeping from about 8am to about 4pm, which absolutely does NOT work for getting all the stuff that I mentioned in the prior paragraph accomplished.

I came home from Thanskgiving yesterday absolutely exhausted. I forced myself to do an hour of ChaCha and made another $4 (well under my daily necessary minimum but well . . . at least I'm $4 closer to my goal, right?) but I really needed to get some sleep, because I was falling asleep at the keyboard. What do you do when two priorities collide like that? The compromise of at least making SOME money seemed like the best solution. Thanksgiving with my family didn't go very well, hence the exhaustion, but I've detailed that in a Facebook note so perhaps you will hear my thoughts about it later, Gentle Readers, but not right now. I want some time to process it all.

At this point in time I would like to say that I find the concept of 'Black Friday' almost physically repulsive, and definitely emotionally vile. More on that later too.

This weekend is a time to party! Had Thanksgiving on the proper Thursday with my family, then a much happier celebration of two of my dear friend's birthdays on Black Friday evening (the only money this household spends on that date, by deliberate choice), on Saturday Hubby and I get to put up our Christmas decor both inside and out, and have our own Thanksgiving dinner, and then on Sunday of this weekend, we're all going over to my mother -in-laws -- self and Hubby, bro and sis in law and their two kids, and at least one more family friend -- for *their* Thanksgiving.

My holiday heartburn has started, precipitated by the massive doses of Aleve I had to take to deal with my back *last* weekend. Which went out because like a fool, I went back to the gym after being sick and promptly worked out WAY too hard. Which meant that I lost yet another week of workout time because I had to recover from that, sigh. I think I am finally back now, though, and I will just have to take it easier, knowing that a good low-key workout every day is still helping my body achieve our goals, as opposed to trying to jump right back in where I was 6 weeks ago.

Anyway, Rolaids no longer produces the lovely all-in-one that I usually use for these 6 weeks (from Thanksgiving to New Year's -- all that forced family togetherness plus trying to get extra $$ for Christmas presents plus being forced to be extra social on top of all the usual stuff . . . In a very specific way relating to family and social requirements, I HATE the holidays) so I suspect I will be spending a bit of extra moolah this year to buy all the separate components that used to be in the Rolaids. Oh well. I'd rather do that than stay up at nights (and mornings, and noonings) with heartburn, gas, and other associated stress-induced gastric upset.

Is this getting long? I should go back to bed. I have more to talk about, but I will do that this afternoon, I think.

My Rules For My Actors, or, The Shit I Put Up With.

(Gentle Readers, today I wanted to write a post about how our freedoms are being eroded by the TSA, in particular, the freedom to NOT get molested before every air flight, but it's not coming together and anyway, I am not in a rant-and-roar sort of mood. Instead, you're going to get a hopefully more fun post.)

Since I've been a stage manager for 20 years now, or thereabouts anyway, I decided that I would compile a list of the Stuff I Want To See Happen when I am stage managing. Without further ado (and very little editing), here it is.

1) Pick up your own shit. What are you, 3 years old? In particular, throw away your nasty used Kleenex and makeup sponges, do you know how many germs *I* can get when I have to touch your manky crap? Throw it away, please, in the receptacles provided.

2) Don't lose your shit. Because when you lose your shit, you freak out, which makes everybody else freak out, which means that my job suddenly becomes less about getting the show on its legs and more about keeping everybody from suddenly having emotional issues. Not only that, but when I have to spend an extra hour in the theatre after everybody else has gone home, looking for your shit, I miss the party and get less sleep for tomorrow's show, which will not endear me to you.

3) Don't talk shit. I believe in open, painfully honest communication. If you try to go all passive-aggressive on me, I will sling it right back at you, except that I'll lose the 'passive' part first. Just tell me what you frickin' want, I don't have all day to stand around trying to translate your needs, particularly when there are 40 other people standing in line behind you.

4) Don't make shit up. If you're late for your call because you have the world's biggest hangover since 1923, let me know so that I can prepare you a raw egg, coffee, tabasco and Worchestershire sauce smoothie. If you can't make your call because you just got into a car accident, let me know so I can send somebody to go get you and bring you to the show. Or, alternatively, so that I can inform your understudy. DO NOT SAY 'Oh, I'll be there in 10 minutes'. That doesn't help. The only exception is if you really are going to show up in ten minutes. And I have a stopwatch, so I will know.

5) Tell me about your shit. If you're having a bad day, if you've got the mother of all colds, if your grandmother just died, please, let me know. It's my job to make sure your life during this show is as easy as possible so that you can do your job to the best of your ability without interruption. If you need a bit of a shoulder to cry on or somebody to listen while you have a cathartic rage moment, or a neddy pot and sea salt standing by every time you come off stage, that's what I'm there for.But you know what? I can't do all of that if you don't clue me in. So talk to me. Open your yap and tell me what's going on. I might not be your Facebook friend.

6) Don't leave shit backstage that's not supposed to be there. Other people besides you live back there. This is their world too, respect it. This includes ALL of your props (they have a home at the props table, make sure they get back there!!) cigarettes (lit, previously smoked, and unused), used and new cough drops, chewing gum (again, used or not) and condoms (yes, in any condition). This also includes purses, articles of clothing, books, car keys, cell phones, and other technological items. And speaking of technology . . .

7) Turn your shit off. This wasn't a problem back in the early 90's and previous decades but it is now. If you've got a laptop, put it in sleep mode. If you've got an Ipod, turn it off or mute the volume. If you've got a cell phone, put it on vibrate or leave it off all together, and if you're a doctor or lawyer or are otherwise on call, give the blasted thing to me so that *I* can keep a watch on it, because I guarantee you I will be better at that than you will tonight. I can run messages, and you can't, for example.

8) If you insist on wearing expensive shit to the theatre, like jewelry, give it to me while you are onstage. The stage manager's booth is locked, and I'm the only person that goes in there. There are thieves out there that specialize in getting backstage during a show in order to rob people blind of wallets and jewelry (wedding rings in particular tend to walk away). If you don't feel comfortable leaving your stuff backstage, I can take it. I have a box in the booth for this purpose. I will give your shit back to you at the end of the night.

9) Leave your shit at home. This rule is meant mostly for your emotional crap, although I'm pretty sure that I don't want to see your actual luggage either, particularly not if the dressing room is tiny and you have to share it. If you've done your best, and you just can't leave it outside of the theatre, see Rule #5. Please don't try to do your job when your shit has got you in its grip. At best, it's a distraction, and at worst, its an actual physical liability.

10) If I tell you to do shit, do it. Please don't bug me about it, whine, or snarl about what a bitch I am behind my back. Your director is counting on me to turn whatever vision he has that will make you look great into your reality. So please, when I give you a note, don't argue with me. When I ask you to do something, just do it. And don't do the classic little kid ploy of dividing and conquering. I am the director's mouthpiece, I say nothing that hasn't previously gotten approved by him or her. I do nothing without prior approval. I can't even think thoughts that deviate from the plan, for the duration of the show. It's not my opinion coming out of my mouth, it's the director's. Really. If you go to your director, complaining about what I told you, the chances are good that the reply you'll get is 'No, she's right, do what she says'. So save us all the time, because it is a precious commodity, and accept what I'm telling you as the truth. Ok?

Spending Money

Yes, Gentle Readers, I am procrastinating going to bed. But I have news!

I bought my mandolin today! Go me. I also bought a hard drive for my laptop, which means no more cold noses and feet and fingers when I try to work in our office. Fish doesn't seem to mind the cold, but me? FREEZING.

This also means that I will be able to practice my instruments in the warm living room instead of here in the office, because I will be able to find my websites and so on with the laptop. No more cold winters. I am thrilled :)

I am so sorry you haven't heard from me in a while, Gentle Readers, it has taken me this long to recover from the Newfoundland Special cold.

I promise to keep writing as soon as something interesting happens in my life!

And, Suddenly . . .

Gentle Readers, one of my friends from the RenFest, Dave, a lovely person, used to have this as his email signature line: "Living with God's timing -- 'and, suddenly . . . ' and that's really how I feel right now.

24 hours ago life was good. Boring, predictable, but good. Nobody was hurt. Nobody was getting stoned. I wasn't required to spend emergency money.

That has all changed. Friend got hit by a car (but luckily, since the idiot car driver wasn't going fast, only bruises) as he was on his bicycle coming home from work, another friend is deliberately getting very drunk because she has tried her best for 2 years to help an anorexic and bulimic manic depressive teenager with cerebral palsy (yes, really) and was making no progress, now, finally, the teenager is in "professional hands", whatever that means, and my friend is getting drunk on the strength of it . . . I have no idea if this is a celebratory drunk or a trying-to-forget drunk, and I get to spend a lot of money tomorrow, but not really in a good way.

Remember my post about the hard drive and the laptop? Yeah, I get to do that tomorrow. I am letting the professionals deal with it. I only hope they don't take one look at me and try to gouge me to death.

Then I get to go to Target and spend lots of money on the meds that are keeping me alive, namely, my asthma meds and birth control. The BCP I take continuously due to the need for emotional regulation of my hormones, and the asthma meds, well . . . I like to breathe. Breathing is good, even if it is almost $100 a month in co-pays alone.

And finally, I get to spend hours at the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles, for you non Minnesotans) to get a duplicate driver's license, because as we all remember mine got snatched -- on a weekend -- 24 hours before I was billed to leave on an Amtrak for Michigan. Why am I just getting to it now? 'Cause I have been too sick to leave the house since the Great Big Sea concerts and the Shantyman's germs.

This is not how I wanted to spend the first day out of the house in almost 3 weeks. It's going to be a very long day, made longer by the fact that the people in my re-enactment group are now looking at me expectantly at every dance practice. I am not good enough yet. And yet, their expectations are insanely high. This is not Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. This is dance music from the 1600's, with wierd time signatures and odd keys and chords that switch every second, literally ('cause it's bouncy, fast paced dance music, not slow courtly pavanes), and it's just plain difficult. I have only been playing the guitar since mid August and people are starting to look at me like 'Oh, come ON, don't you know it YET?" NO, I haven't got it yet, it's only been 12 weeks, give me a break! If I'd been taking lessons we *might* have been up to Jingle Bells by now! Not fiendishly difficult dance music that I have never seen before, even if I have heard it for years. I don't even know what some of the chords are yet, much less am able to play them.

Sheesh. And dance practice is the end cap to my delightful sleep deprived, standing-in-line, fighting rush hour traffic day. Did I mention I have to go grocery shopping too? Yeah. And all of this has dropped in my lap in the last 12 hours. I can feel a headache starting above my bad eye. :(

Technology is Making Me Stupid

Yes, Gentle Readers, it's so. When it comes to technology, I am functionally illiterate. And this was illustrated to me as recently as this evening when my husband, Fish, and I tried to put the new hard drive (that I bought from Ebay, which I am still SURE is the right sort) into the new-to-me laptop.


It didn't work. I am still laptop-less. There is a picture on the top of the drive that suggests that this particular drive needs connection cables. Information recived via the 'Net says that we were trying to put it in the wrong space, as there ought to be a little metal sort of exoskeleton that the drive fits into, and that I haven't got. And didn't see.

*sigh*

Am I missing parts? Did we really try to put the hard drive somewhere where it doesn't belong? Do I really need connector cables? I don't have the answers to any of these questions.

This is why I am going to the Computer God store tomorrow (NOT Best Buy, for those of you who are wondering, there's a lovely independent computer parts and repair shop nearby that will help) and will willingly pay somebody else to get this blasted hard drive installed properly in the laptop.

Because I am a technological idiot.

F is Dead

Well, Gentle Readers, I have just confirmed it. Despite what I wrote on Sean McCann's blog, where I am known as Whitewater, about the power of Yes and moving from can't to can, I am afraid I have found something I cannot do. And not for lack of trying, by the way!

But it is impossible, at least, I'm pretty sure it is. I have tried a number of different methods and I run into the same problem.

I cannot play an open F major chord on my acoustic dreadnought guitar. Please note how specific I am, when I say this. For all I know, maybe a 3/4 classical guitar or an electric guitar would work just fine. I am hoping that a mandolin's chords will be different enough for me to do it on that.


But on Babe? Forget it.

The trouble I'm having is that my hand and fingers simply aren't big/long enough to barre the 1st fret, as required, while *also* pressing the individual strings. I can barre the frets. I can do the individual strings. But I can't do that all at the same time. My right hand just isn't big enough.

Every time I barre *and* go for the other strings, I lose the barre. The more strings I try to get to, the more I have to stretch. And the more I stretch, the more my first finger slips. It's an ergonomic thing, based on the way fingers just naturally work.

If anybody out there has had this problem and knows how to solve it, feel free to comment. There's a lot of music that I won't be able to play on the guitar if I can't get this straightened out.