Ward Choir Director

(This was originally published June 17, 2018)

Today I conducted my last song as ward choir director in New Haven. It's been a good experience, even if I was only in for a few months. Here's a recap of what we accomplished this spring:

1. Called To Serve

We don't have many youth in our ward, but I thought it would still be nice for them to sing in Sacrament Meeting. So, I went into Young Men's and Young Women's a few times and helped them prepare to sing "Called To Serve." There were definitely more leaders than youth singing the day of the performance, but it was still great to have some youth up there! I played as energetic an accompaniment as I could for them.

What I learned: Tell all the leaders what you're planning to do. I told the Young Men's president since I'm married to him, and I told the Young Women's president, but I think other counselors would have been less confused (especially that first day) if I had warned them beforehand.

2. Easter

Our ward hadn't had a choir since November 2016, so it was exciting to get things going again. I got up my courage and asked people directly if they would sing, even people I didn't know well. Most of them said yes! That personal invitation is really effective.

We sang on Palm Sunday since Easter was the same day as General Conference, and this was our program:

Opening Hymn -- That Easter Morn

Sacrament Hymn -- He Died, the Great Redeemer Died

Scripture: John 3:16

Song: "God So Loved the World," by John Stainer performed by the ward choir (We used the John Leavitt version) 

Scripture: Alma 7:11-13, possibly other Book of Mormon scriptures about the Atonement

Song: "Gethsemane," performed by special Primary group (It was included in the March 2018 Friend, and a better accompaniment is found at the Hoffmans' website.)

Scripture: Matthew 27:27-50

Song: "O Savior, Thou Who Wearest a Crown," to the Kingsfold melody, sung by congregation (I had initially been planning to have the ward choir sing Sally DeFord's gorgeous arrangement of this piece, but I didn't know if a brand new ward choir could handle it so I instead transcribed it for the whole congregation to sing.)

Scripture: John 20:1-16

Song: "Himno de la Pascua de Resurreccion" (He is Risen), sung by congregation. (We have a Spanish group in our ward so we included a song in Spanish.)

Scripture: Alma 26:16

Song: "Wonderful," arranged by Suzanne Shippen. (Someday this should make it back onto the music.lds.org website once it's fully revamped, but in the meantime Suzanne was very kind to share the music with me. Oh, it's gorgeous.)

Closing song: Christ the Lord is Risen Today

And that was the Easter program!

What I learned: The most stressful part of this for me was the children's number. Since the Primary music conductor was gone for a few Sundays and I never touched base with the subs, I held afternoon practices and sent music videos to interested kids. That worked okay, but I learned it's just easiest to work with kids on Sundays!

3. For All the Saints
Since we had a good group of men coming, I thought it would be fun to have a men-only number. So, we quickly threw together a rousing version of "For All the Saints." I never wrote down an accompaniment, so another woman in the ward conducted while I played. I kept the arrangement simple so that people could learn it quickly. It's just two-part, and either the tenors and basses are always singing the melody except for verse 4 which is minor. The number of measures of rests is arbitrary since I never wrote down the music, but to the people singing it was clear when they were supposed to come in. I suppose I ought to write it down for real sometime.

What I learned: Don't write music at midnight.

4. Heavenly Father Loves Me
I was first introduced to Rachel Mohlman and Anna Molgard's music at the Church Music Festival, and I fell in love with "Come and See" which some women in our ward performed as a small group at Christmastime. While looking through the Church Music Library I saw their lovely version of "My Heavenly Father Loves Me" and decided to do it since the end of April is such a lovely time of year. It wasn't as straightforward as I was expecting for the second verse, but it still came together really well.

What I learned: How to conduct in 6/8.

5. Teach Me To Walk in the Light
When my second son was a baby, I discovered that I could sing "Teach Me To Walk in the Light" to the tune of "Be Thou My Vision," and I sang it all the time to him. It took me a few years to write it down, but I finally did, and it was really great to share it with the women of my ward. Here are a few pages from it:

What I learned: It's important to write music that flows well! I actually had some awkward jumps in there that I felt bad about having them sing, so right after the performance I changed them (I read this helpful article a little too late!). I still think there are spots here and there I might know how to arrange better with fresh eyes, so I'm not quite ready to distribute it widely besides a few teaser pages. That and I am still learning about copyright. I think "Teach Me To Walk" is in the clear since it's (c) IRI 1958, but I just want to do things right.

6. The Lord Bless You and Keep You
When I was searching for a final piece for the choir to sing, I thought of this almost immediately. Then the ward music chair recommended it. And then, once I found it in a hidden music library while I was visiting Utah, I decided it was a sign that we should do it, even though I didn't want to do John Rutter music.

And it was a challenge. The last page is very complicated, and it took a lot of practice for me to keep a steady beat while helping people come in at the right time. But it came together, and it was beautiful. I really appreciated how hard the choir worked on it!

What I learned: You might want more than two weeks to learn this. Then again, people love a challenge more than they love spending weeks on the same song.

Our ward choir accomplished a lot in less than four months! It was such an honor to work with them!

Just a few other things:

• This YouTube series helped me a lot with learning how to bring people in, cut people off, and add dynamics.
• I love warm-ups. I love teaching about "tall and narrow" and blend and "raise your soft palate." I really wanted to work on those with the choir. But I learned to be realistic. After all, I had choir every day in high school to practice those concepts, and ward choir was just once a week (and I certainly had no training in how to teach those concepts). So I threw those in when I could, but I learned that the most important thing is for people to sing the right notes.
• We only had a few rehearsals for each song, so I sent out recordings of me playing or singing the parts so people could practice at home. I am generally pretty self-conscious about my voice, so it was funny to hear people say they were listening to it all the time! But I sure was grateful they were practicing! It showed!

I am so grateful for all the hard work and sacrifice the choir members and choir accompanist put in these past few months. I loved the moments when I remembered to just listen to them as I was conducting. It was wonderful just basking in the glorious sound they produced. It reminded me of this quote from Betty Jeanne Chipman's Singing With Mind, Body, and Soul where she quoted her friend JoAnn Ottley:

The idea of a voice as a healer is not new. It is rather ancient, and might most accurately be classified among the valuable things we've forgotten in our quest for scientific measurement. The paradox lies now in the fact that a clear understanding of the power of the human voice to heal comes directly from the physics and our expanded concepts about the universe, which at the fundamental level could be said to be music . . . The human voice may be the best tool available for reconciling the internal and external components of our beings. It works with the breath and with vibration, the fundamental elements of our lives. It is available to all, without cost, and requires no expertise. Anyone who can groan or hum can claim the powerful benefits offered by the human voice. The body acts as something of a "sounding board," responding to the influences of the sound, and most especially the sound of the human voice.

I've wondered at times why I prefer singing to playing piano since I am a better pianist than singer. I think that for me it comes down to this idea of breath and vibrations, of creating something in yourself to share with others. I'm grateful I was able to work with the ward to harness our collective voices to make a beautiful sound glorifying God.

Burton Tower

(This post was originally published May 31, 2018)

After I visited Harkness Tower last year, I decided to see if it was as easy to get a tour of the bell towers at the University of Michigan as it was at Yale.

It was.

"All those years I lived there, and I never went!" I bemoaned to Kevin. So, when I planned a trip back to Michigan, I decided to give it a try. In a moment of boldness, I emailed a carillon professor to ask if I could tour the bell tower while I was in town even though classes were no longer in session. While I was on the airplane, she got back to me, telling me that we couldn't go to the Lurie Tower on North Campus (which I was more familiar with) but that I could knock on her door at 4:45 and she would show me around the other carillon on Burton Tower.

I hadn't told her I had a baby with me and wasn't sure how much favor I had curried to start with, so I left J with my friend C and headed up the elevator by myself.

Dr. Ng was warm and enthusiastic as she invited me into her office. At 4:45 she hurried us into a room where we could see the action of the bells chiming. It was like a music box, she explained. A heavy, gigantic music box with grooves to play the right notes at each 15 minute increment.

It's kind of hard to see, but right behind that big wheel at the front there are four smaller wheels with grooves in them to indicate the order in which to play the four chimes (it's different for each 15 minute increment)

This is the system for the big bell that plays on the hour. The pulley is on the left.

We saw a practice carillon, then the real one.

The Charles Baird Carillon.

Although I had been more familiar with Lurie Tower, it was great to visit Burton Tower and learn about the history of its carillon. Dr. Ng and I climbed under a bell that she struck, and I walked around, jumped up, crouched down, stood in the center to hear the overtones, echoes, and even silence.

After we walked back inside to the carillon, Dr Ng. played a lovely, haunting piece by a BYU grad, Margot Murdoch, entitled Tea with Hildegarde. After her performance she invited me to play something. I took a deep breath. Six weeks of proper lessons nine years ago hadn't left me with any technique, and I felt sheepish pounding something out after something so lovely. I stared at the keys, memorizing where my fists would go since the keyboard was a major third off of what I was used to. Then I was ready.

"Come, come ye saints, no toil nor labor fear, but with joy, wend your way," the carillon played. And that was it.

"I . . . that was what was played on the BYU bell tower on the hour instead of Westminster Quarters," I said. Previously, it had seemed so epic to play "Come, Come Ye Saints" on my 4th bell tower (after KU, BYU, and Yale). But now it seemed so . . . inadequate. I racked my brain to see if there was anything else I dared play, and I couldn't think of anything.

"How nice to have representation of BYU here on Michigan campus!" she said tactfully, even though BYU had been adequately represented by her performance of Margot Murdoch's composition right before that. Hopefully there were some Mormons in earshot who could appreciate Come, Come Ye Saints that day.

After signing the guest book, we chatted a bit about favorite carillons in the US and in Europe, and then I headed back down to see C and our kids.

There's always a bit of a thrill in being able to broadcast yourself to a wide audience. I've felt it many times as I approach a microphone. I've felt it when I've put on a Facebook Live video. But I think the best, most beautiful way to share your voice widely just might be a carillon.

The New Haven Mormon Arts Center Festival

(This post was originally published July 3, 2017)

The Mormon Arts Center Festival was this weekend, and it was absolutely incredible. Riverside Church was replete with gorgeous architecture and stained glass windows, the speakers were riveting (with many people considering the talk about Francisco Estevez the best of them all), the art exhibit was astounding, and the sing-in led by Craig Jessop was an unforgettable experience.

Unfortunately, I didn't end up making it. As I mentioned, I had pretty horrendous back pain this weekend and I could barely move even after (or even thanks to) my ER visit. The train would have been awful, the subway would have been rough, and I wouldn't have even been able to sing at the sing-in if it required more than a little breathing.

So I stayed home and imagined what it would have been like seeing the art and singing with everyone. Although I knew this probably wouldn't have happened had I gone, I imagined scenarios where some accomplished composer pulled me aside, found a piano, and helped me with a few measures here and there on some arrangements I've been working on. And then President Uchtdorf shook my hand and told me to name my baby Dieter.

In good news, all the talks will be available online over the next few days, so I will gradually be able to catch up on what I missed. I'm still disappointed that I didn't get to interact with people, but my kids provided a pretty good consolation prize for me . . .

They made their own arts festival! There were costumes, there were original compositions (well, based on the Batman theme song but they made new words), and there were plenty of art exhibits!

Allow me to take you through this highly erudite, avant-garde festival.

"Bat-Tigger," designed by J -- this costume explores the wide ranges of emotions in a child. The slinky sticking out of his shorts represents the playfulness embodied by Tigger, while the Batman T-shirt and "Bat-sword" sheathed in his self-constructed utility belt represent the brooding introspection that even children can't entirely escape.

"The Tree of Life," built by J -- because what Mormon art exhibit is complete without a representation of Lehi's vision?

"The Great and Spacious Building," built and photographed by Joseph -- this Lego sculpture depicts a building founded on crony capitalism, untamed opulence, and an overconfidence in science and secularism as represented by all the dinosaur references. This picture is intentionally blurry to represent how the philosophies of men obscure true vision.

"The Inferno," crafted by J -- this top-down look at Dante's Inferno reminds us that the center of hell is ice cold, as are yellow, red, and green popsicles symbolized by these foam quarter circles.

"Farmer Trance" (titled by M) -- this plastic sculpture embodies the daydreams of a farmer who wants to reject an agrarian, Wendell Berry-esque existence and see a world run by robots. Either that or Matthew's just saying Transformer wrong.

"Moroni 8" -- this photograph depicts the fears of little children being sprinkled with cold water.

"The Of Book Of Mormon" (black construction paper, white crayon) -- this first piece in J's triptych does a slight play on words of "The Book of Mormon," reminding us of the ownership we can feel of The Book of Mormon, as well as other gospel topics in the triptych.

"Hartford Temple at Night" (black construction paper, white crayon, yellow crayon) -- this neo-cubist look at the Hartford Temple continues the theme of ownership. A series of lines, rectangles, and triangles work together to create a representation of the temple, just as we can all work together to build a Zion community.

"Man in House at Nighttime" (black construction paper, white crayon) -- this sketch represents Mormon pioneers looking out the windows of their homes in various locations across the American Midwest. Although they were not able to achieve long term ownership of those dwellings, they had ownership in the Zion community that led them west.

"After the Language of my Fathers" (black construction paper, crayon) -- this standalone piece by Matthew tells the dramatic story of Lehi's family crossing the ocean. I think.

And finally, there was a performance of an original composition by J and M, entitled "Poulets."

This piece also proves that modern music doesn't just sound like toddlers pecking at the piano any more than Jackson Pollock paintings just look like toddler scribbles.

Although there were also a series of lectures given over the course of several days (the most memorable being "The color of my spoon needs to match the color of my shirt," "Hi fingers, how are you?" and "Na na na na na na na na na CHANGE DIAPER"), these will not be available on YouTube because they stop doing whatever they were doing when I pull out the camera.

We hope to attend future Mormon Arts Center events in New York City. In the meantime, at least we've got budding artists in New Haven.

Harkness Tower

(This was published June 21, 2017)

The first time I played a carillon was when I was 13. I was visiting my grandparents in Kansas, and a member of the ward was a carillonneur for the bell tower at KU, so she invited us to try it out.

Since then, I've been in a few bell towers here and there. I went back to that bell tower when I was 18, took a carillon class at BYU when I was 19 during spring term, and went back to the bell tower in Kansas with my mom, aunt, and 2-year-old J. (That was the time I played lots of Primary songs for J as well as the song "Royals" in honor of the MLB championship that day.)

Interestingly, I never ended up playing either of the bell towers at the University of Michigan even though I had plenty of time to do it. So, when I heard from a member of my ward here that I could request a tour of the Yale bell tower, I knew I had to jump on the opportunity before I let it slip away like I had in Michigan.

The first time I emailed, I never got a response. So instead we went to a park and attempted to fly a kite.

The second time I used Kevin's email address hoping that somehow it would work better. And it did! Friday night he got a response so we planned our Saturday around making it happen.

This, of course, was the Saturday when we went to lots of splash pads that weren't on and M locked us out of the house for almost an hour. But even with those adventures, we still had enough time to give the boys baths, eat dinner, and then head downtown.

Now tomatillo hasn't always been this glam 

As we walked, we heard the bells. Kevin told me that they were playing for a wedding. "Apparently they wanted Game of Thrones." Because nothing signifies the start of a healthy relationship like Game of Thrones, I guess. When we got to the college, we found out that the wedding was happening right there, and we weren't allowed in at all. Luckily, once Game of Thrones was done, our tour guide came down from the Harkness Tower and let us and the rest of the group in amidst stern warnings from the security guard to go nowhere near the reception.

Once in, we headed up the stairs. I had been hoping for an elevator like the KU bell tower, but we all managed the stairs okay. Our first stop was a room with an old carillon with only a few chimes and a full practice carillon that J was happy to try out.

I only briefly tested it out by pushing middle C. Out came the sound of a B.

"It's a half step flat!" I cried out in dismay as everyone around me laughed. The KU carillon was a half step flat, which I had adjusted to fine, but I had still hoped for a carillon that matched the same pitches as a piano when we got around to playing the real one.

And then up another set of stairs we went, and I did my best to ignore the Braxton Hicks. After passing another practice carillon and walking up even more steps, we made it to the real carillon! After admiring the bells for a minute,

our tour guide and his friend played a fun duet for us. J danced along, and I was pretty excited. True, there were about 10 other people in the tour who wanted a chance to play the bells, but I was sure I would get a chance too, especially since I had printed of "Come, Come Ye Saints" to pay homage to BYU. However, right as they finished their duet, the tour guide got a text.

"It says, 'Okay, you can stop now.' What do you think that means?" They replied to the text, and while we were waiting to see what it meant we walked around other parts of the bell tower. Did this mean I wouldn't get to play it after all? Raindrops made their way in through the top of the tower and landed on my head, mirroring the despair I felt. All that walking, and I wouldn't even get to play it?

We headed back into the room with the carillon and they confirmed that the reception had its own music so the bells had to stop. We headed back down, stopping on balconies on our way out to see the pretty rooftops of New Haven.

When we got to a practice room, the two carillonneurs played "You've Got a Friend in Me," which my kids appreciated. I liked it too, but I was in no mood to appreciate it. First the splash pads, then getting locked out, and now this? I was too sad to even ask if I could play the practice carillon. When we got to the college courtyard, the reception was still going on but the security guard was gone. That meant we were locked in from the inside. We had gotten enough dire warnings from the security guard that we didn't want to go anywhere near the reception, but it looked like we might have to. Luckily, we found another sidewalk that led to another door, though it was also locked. But the handicapped button opened the gate, so we were finally free. We headed back to the car and went home, receiving discouraging texts on the way to make sure we felt good about life. And then, to finish off the evening, Kevin asked, "Did you know you have a hole in the back of your shorts?"

Wins all around.

After a few days of mourning, I figured that there was nothing really stopping me from trying again. And since we didn't have any plans for the next Saturday (I know, these are probably the weekends we should go to beaches or New Hampshire or Maine before the baby comes, but I am tired) we tried again!

This time, we were the only people on the tour, and it went much quicker.  I got to spend as much time on the practice carillon as I liked, until I felt confident playing "Come Come Ye Saints" in A flat despite it sounding like the key of G (because, of course, it had to be in the right key).

Several stairs later, we were again at the real carillon. I sat down and grinned. Every day, every hour, the bell tower at BYU had played "Come, Come Ye Saints." Now was my chance to play it at Yale!

 . . . And, I messed up. Just a little. So I had to do it again!

. . . And, I started before the phone camera was ready. But, that's okay. It's mostly there.



After letting the boys and Kevin try the bells,


I considered playing something else I had learned 8 years ago in my class. But I felt like I had lost a lot of technique in those 8 years, and we hadn't quite put enough quarters in the parking meter to feel comfortable staying forever. So we headed back down, stopping at different balconies to admire the view again (and to imagine our children falling through the unprotected gaps since these balconies didn't have the netting that the balconies the week before had had).

There were 216 steps to the very, very top, but probably only around 100 to the carillon. Still plenty.

Since there was no reception this week, we were able to stop in the courtyard long enough to get a few pictures while M ran in circles.

And that is the story of how I finally got to play my third carillon. I think it was worth it.

Tale as old as time

(This post was originally published January 24, 2017)

One afternoon in November, I woke up from a nap with a sudden burst of inspiration. I was going to make a mashup of Beauty and the Beast songs! I had fiddled earlier that week with an arrangement of "Something There" with Chopin's Raindrop Prelude, but now I knew I needed to do a whole slew of songs.

I was excited and got to work finding Chopin pieces that would fit each of the major Beauty and the Beast songs. I quickly ran into a difficulty -- most of the songs were in 4/4 whereas most Chopin was in 3/4. The 4/4 songs were slow and peaceful, and I needed upbeat! I considered branching out to other composers, but I felt like it would lose some of its magic and cohesiveness.

This was also the time that I was feeling sicker and sicker with each passing day, and when I had a free minute to myself I wanted to spend it sitting on the couch instead of practicing. I began to worry. How would it ever come together in time? How would I perfect it in time? I knew the movie wasn't coming out until March, but I wanted to get the movie made well before then. I knew there was a Belle dress and good pianos in Utah, and I wanted to take advantage of them during Christmastime. Besides, if I waited too long I might not even fit into any dress!

I would remind myself of that and gradually chip away at the difficult passages and unnatural key changes until I had something that maybe, just maybe, might be ready to perform when I was with family.

Once in Utah, I practiced more and more, gaining confidence with each run-through. I contacted my aunt Jackie who let me borrow her beautiful dress she had made. Now I had no choice. I had to make the video!

My parents were incredibly helpful. When the bright piles of snow outside made strange glares on the piano, they hung up tablecloths to block some of the windows. My mom worked and worked and worked with my hair to try and get something looking like the movie hair. We spent hours fiddling with camera angles and tripods, testing different cameras and phones to see what would make the best image.

And then when the afternoon was through, we just decided there was too much light in the background, resulting in graininess near my head, and it wasn't going to get any better that day. So we were back to work the next day!

Finally, after so many takes, after finally improving enough that I felt confident in what I was doing, we had a working video! For the first time I ever, I decided to actually say "thanks for watching my video!" which I had promised myself I would never do. People had to see the beautiful dress, after all!

At the end of the day, it might not be the most professional, simply because we didn't have all the equipment for that. But it was great to see a pretty good video come out of a lot of work from a lot of people. After several weeks of wondering if this would ever come to fruition, it was humbling to see it come together.

And after nearly a month of waiting to get closer to the movie's release date, I'm so excited to share it with you! After all, what could be better than Beauty and the Beast and Chopin?

Going Live

(This post was originally published December 17, 2016)

Do you like seeing yourself on film?

I never really have. It's awkward, it's embarrassing, and it's more eye-opening than I really care for. Do I really look like that? Do I really move like that? Do I really lisp like that? And everyone but me has to deal with that all the time??? Haha!

But as much as I feel funny about videos of myself, I feel equally energized by playing the piano for people. So I decided to jump on the Facebook Live bandwagon and make some Christmas movies.

I chose to do it at my in-laws house because I was pretty sure they would have a better connection than at our place in New Haven (the upload speed in Northwood probably ranks in the top 5 things I miss about Ann Arbor). They were good sports about me taking over the piano when I sort of threw the news on them (and of course, the short notice came back to surprise me when I learned lots of people were coming that morning!). Kevin and I figured out a way to prop up my phone, and then I took a deep breath and decided to go live!

There were some terrifying parts. Facebook would tell me who was watching, and I would panic as some names floated by. "Wait, he's watching? She's watching???? They know a lot about music! They know how things are supposed to sound! Yikes!" I would also panic a little as I waited for the next comment to tell me what to do. I hadn't thought of any filler things to say, so it was excruciating to wait.

Of course, the real terror came when the song and composer suggestions came. Sometimes a name would come up where I only vaguely knew any pieces by the composer (such as Erik Satie or Leonard Cohen). And, if I were a "real" pianist, I would know how to just plain play in the style of a composer without racking my brain for a piece of theirs that I know how to play to mash with the Christmas song. But I'm not, so I would have to hurry and think if I knew any pieces that would remotely work with the song. And you can't keep people waiting on Facebook Live!

But despite the terror and the total feelings of inadequacy, it was really, really fun, especially on those occasional moments where things just clicked. I was so grateful to everyone who was so supportive.

After about 15 minutes, I decided that it was time to stop hogging the piano, so I wrapped it up.




And that's when I discovered that the whole thing had been filmed sideways. Oops!

And that's also when I discovered some comments that I had missed, so I decided there was nothing to do but to try again the next day.



It's a unique experience playing impromptu music like this. There are a lot of things to keep track of -- the melody of the original song you're playing, the key you're in, the style you're trying to keep, etc. There were several songs where I lost one or more of those components, and I had to just keep playing until I got back to somewhere recognizable.

As I rewatched both, I thought, "Ack" over some parts (mostly about my physical appearance), "Oof" about my goofs, and "Oh well" for the mistakes in both appearance and performance that I didn't have control over.

But people are forgiving. And impromptu playing is forgiving, too -- no one really expects perfection when you are flying by the seat of your pants. It's just a fun adventure we all get to share together.

Although . . . I think it would be more fair if the people making suggestions had to be on the camera too. :)

(one last thing . . . I still think it's funny people wanted me to play in the style of Piano Guys. Can't do that without a cello!)

Poems from the Yellow Notebook: Springtime version

(This post was originally published May 1, 2016)

Joseph and I have enjoyed pointing out "popcorn trees" to each other every time I drive. I feel like there are more this year than the two previous years (probably thanks to a milder winter), and that the colors are more vivid. I've always loved dogwoods and magnolias, but this year has also offered a pretty vibrant selection of magenta blossoms (wish I knew the type of trees!).

It's been a cooler spring, at least lately, so I haven't gone on many walks, and it feels unsafe/silly to take pictures while driving, so I don't have tons of pictures. Hopefully that will change before the blossoms all disappear. This time of year just goes too quickly.

I've been obsessed with spring for a good chunk of my life, which naturally means I wrote a bit of poetry about it as a teenager.

Except . . . this might be the least poetic synopsis of spring that has ever been penned. It's hard to mix flowery language with scientific descriptions. Oh well. I tried.

I love pink trees

And green grass.

They do good for the soul.

So do blue skies

And white trees.

The cones in the retina

Must send endorphins to

The brain

When we see pretty colors

That make us feel good.

Or maybe there's a chemical 

reaction because of the

carbon hybridizations in blossoms

That also send endorphins

That make us feel good.

Or maybe spring is just

a natural mood lifter.

Whatever carbon hybridizations are, I am thankful for them and what they do to make trees so beautiful in the spring.

Edit: I couldn't just share 3 pictures, so here are some pictures my mom took in Providence. I will try and get more from Michigan soon!

Sunbeam Waltz

(This was originally published April 19, 2016)

Sometimes people ask how long it takes me to make a mashup for my YouTube channel.

I've had a little trouble answering because there are a few steps. I have to come up with the idea of combining two or three songs with the same theme, throw them together, tweak them, practice them, and then find the time to record them.

But I think I have a minimum answer now of start to finish: one week.

Last week I was thinking about how it would be nice to do a mashup with a nice calm Chopin piece. But then I thought, what if I did it with an upbeat Chopin song instead?

So I started playing the Minute Waltz and realized Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam could possibly work with that. But what if there was one that worked better? I opened up my big Chopin book and right on the first page was his Grand Valse Brilliante, better known as the Flamingo song at our house thanks to Sesame Street.

And bam! They worked together so well! And J and M let me practice! So within a few minutes I had a skeleton of what I wanted. Over the next week I found a few minutes here and there to practice, and by Saturday I figured I ought to just throw the whole thing together (it was hard enough that either I had to do it then or practice it for another month to get all the tricky spots) while everyone was playing outside.

So here you go.

A few interesting side notes;

• It is sort of fitting that I was able to play this piece with my cute Sunbeam and his cute friends in mind, because the first time I really tried to play Grand Valse Brilliante was right before he was born. Over the next almost 4 years, I've practiced it here and there, which was a huge help to me this week.
• I have played the real song through just a handful of times. It takes a lot of stamina for me. The first time I played it through was for our Airbnb hosts in Paris. I'm not sure how that happened, and I still wish I had picked something else to play. Ha.
• This was one of the few times I wish I had a real piano with real action and better dynamics. Someday . . .

Nursing Mom Observes Monthly Fast

(This post was originally published April 9, 2016, and is not about music but still pertinent.)

A Mormon mother in Ann Arbor, Michigan has found a suitable method of fasting -- abstaining from nutrition but not calories.

"There's no question about it -- when I'm nursing, I need all the calories I can get," she said as she fed her 9 month old son, pulling a candy wrapper off with her non-dominant hand and teeth. "But I still wanted to make sure I observed the fast somehow!"

Traditionally, Mormons abstain from food for 24 consecutive hours the first Sunday of every month and donate the money they would have spent on food to the poor and needy. Those who are medically unable to do not have to fast, but they are encouraged nonetheless to participate however they can.

"If I were to participate in a traditional fast, I would abstain from calories, Vitamin C, calcium, and riboflavin, among other vitamins and minerals" she continued as she put two attached Twizzlers in her mouth. "Since I'm nursing, I can't abstain from calories, but I can abstain from Vitamin C, calcium, and riboflavin."

"But not necessarily iron," her husband interjected.

"It's only 2%  per serving," she shot back. "It would take 50 servings of Twizzlers to achieve the recommended amount!"

Her husband had mixed feelings on how she observes her fast. "At the rate she eats the candy, I'm sure she gets more than enough iron." He wondered aloud if the spirit of the fast, or at least the Word of Wisdom, proscribes such gluttony.

Following a heated response including the cryptic phrase "Moderation in all things," the wife reminded her husband that she is still making a sacrifice to undertake such a fast.

"I'm not even taking my prenatal vitamin that day," she said.

Although she is planning to wean her son in the next six months, she admitted it is tempting to keep this type of fast once she is no longer nursing.

"If it has no nutrients, does it really count as food?" she mused.

Church Music Festival

(This was originally published March 12, 2016)

As I briefly mentioned before, while I was in Utah, I had the opportunity to attend the Church Music Festival on Temple Square.

So, if you recall, way back in November 2014, my ward choir performed a hymn I wrote. I decided to submit a simpler version of it to the church music contest last March. (Why simpler? 1. I had written the choral part and the organ part separately, and at the time it seemed hard to combine them without making a song that was a unwieldy 15 pages long, 2. I had spent so long tweaking the first line that I was burned out from looking at it anymore, and 3. I wanted it to be short and compact enough to maybe end up in the Ensign someday. A girl can dream.)

I submitted it, and on the 4th of July, I found out it had gotten Special Recognition! In November, I received an invitation to hear it performed in the February Church Music Festival. Since we didn't go home for Christmas and it aligned pretty well with Kevin's spring break, we decided to plan a trip at a time that we could attend.

So, on the afternoon of the 26th, we drove up to Salt Lake for a dinner and a concert. After we dropped J and M off with family, Kevin and I headed up to the second floor of the Joseph Smith Memorial Building for a fancy dinner that consisted half of composers and half of Priesthood and Family employees (most of them in the music department). After the dinner, we headed to the Assembly Hall for the concert. The Salt Lake Institute Singers performed 20 of the winning pieces, including mine. Following the concert, I met up with family and chatted for a bit.

That's the basic version of the evening. There was a lot about the evening that made me really happy, and a lot that I learned.

First, here's what made me happy:

• The choir! Oh, that was a talented, beautiful choir. Twenty songs is a lot to learn, and they had most of them memorized. The accompaniment was incredible, the instrumental solos were lovely, and it was just all around a great concert. Now that I know what a great concert it is, I would go each year even if I had no personal connection to it.
• The songs! There were so many gorgeous, well-crafted songs that night. They were recording the concert so we had no applause between numbers, but there were many, many times when I wanted to. I also wished there was a way to send all the sheet music to all the ward choir directors in the world so they could have this great material to work with.
• They said my name right! There were two times that night when my heart started racing. One was about a minute before my song, and the other was right before the director said my name. I shouldn't have worried too much because they emailed asking how to say it, but it still was a major relief.
• Winning! I mean, I only got an honorable mention of sorts, but it still felt really good (especially when I heard that the number of submissions was somewhere between 600 and 1000 across 8 categories). The members of the music committee did a really good job of making us all feel like winners, which was nice.
• Seeing my family! There are times when I really want to be famous -- when I want real musicians to notice me or lots of people to watch my YouTube channel. But then, seeing siblings and friends and parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles filling up a section of the Assembly Hall to support me (and others saying they'd make it if they could) -- it means a lot more than a few dozen more views on a video. So thanks, everyone!
• My kids were good during the concert! I had asked if they could attend because it would make the babysitting situation easier, and they did great! The joke is, there was another child there that sounded enough like M to make me fret from the beginning of my song til the end of the concert, but once I found out it wasn't him, it was such a relief. It was neat to share this experience with them, even if they don't remember it.

There was also a lot I learned both over the course of the evening and in the days since. A lot of what I learned was articulated by Sally DeFord, who was one of the composers with winning pieces and the keynote speaker. (As a side note, when I first submitted songs to the contest, I said, "I will probably lose to either Janice Kapp Perry or Sally DeFord" . . . and I was right! I had also submitted my arrangement of "Come, Ye Disconsolate" in the Relief Society Category, and it hadn't placed, but hers had. No hard feelings.) (As another side note, on the drive to Salt Lake, I said, "I bet Sally DeFord is tired of going to these dinners, so she probably won't make the trip" . . . and I was wrong! So, I was 1 for 2.) I was able to obtain a copy of her talk, so I'll quote some of it here.

One thing that has been hard with sharing my music is sharing imperfections with so many people. On the drive to Salt Lake, I said to Kevin, "You know what? I still don't like the title." There are lines in the hymn that aren't quite right. There are words that don't fit just right. The whole process made me feel incredibly vulnerable.

So I liked what Sally said about that. "[I]f your hands and your heart are willing, the Lord will lead you to the right places and the right people—the ones who will be blessed as you use the gifts He has given you, and it won't matter that your creations aren't perfect. His grace is certainly sufficient for
that."

Another thing she spoke about was criticism. She asked, "Isn't it amazing how one critical voice can drown out all the others?"

I think I know why that's the case. For some reason, criticism is seen as something that only the elite can do. The uneducated masses, they're the ones who have the audacity to enjoy food, music, or movies. But those of us who know better can find everything wrong. When critics clearly have such superior intellect, who wouldn't respect the opinion of a critic more than the opinion of a fan?

But there's a flaw in this argument. We live in the "age of the gifted pickle sucker," to quote President Gordon B. Hinckley. It is a lot easier to tear down than lift up, as anyone who has read YouTube comments can testify. Thus, the voice of a critic really isn't as enlightened as we might fool ourselves into thinking. We can, and must believe the voices who see the good rather than the flaws. They are the ones with a proper perspective.

And of course, the one with the best perspective is the Lord Himself. And He's going to be the kindest, most validating audience of all! As Sally said, "The Lord said that He delights in the song of the heart. He didn't say the flawless song of the heart. You take paper and ink and you write your heart into the lines, and the Lord delights in it. That is, perhaps, the best reward of all—to know that what you do not only teaches and inspires and uplifts His children, but delights His very soul. What a wonderful gift to give back to the Creator who has given us all we have."

Overall, this has been a humbling, enlightening experience. I am grateful for this chance I've had to share a bit of my soul with others, and grateful for the kindness I've received in return.

Behind the scenes of a super famous YouTube artist

(This post was originally published February 11, 2016)

Have I talked much yet about my mashup hobby?

I started doing it sometime when I was in high school -- putting a few songs together on the spot for a crowd. Every now and then, if I can think of a way to relate two songs, I refine the mashup and put it on YouTube. (Right here.)

Although I started the YouTube channel back in 2010, I have relatively few videos. There are lots of reasons for that -- dealing with the ebb and flow of creativity, understanding that these are clever and gimmicky but not life-changing, having to practice, not wanting to promote myself (basically, don't count on me ever saying "please subscribe!" at the end of a video), etc.

But the main reason I don't make many these days is that I only have so many hands, and if two of them are at the piano, then they are not holding little kids and babies. And that always leads to adventures.

I really did want to make a video this afternoon, though. It had been a long time coming. I had come up with the idea to combine "I See the Light" from Tangled with "Whole New World" from Aladdin way back in January 2013, but it never came together well. When my sister J asked me to play a musical number at her wedding luncheon in August, I finally figured out what the song needed. I thought I would be able to make a recording of it to put on YouTube by the end of September.

 Clearly, it got put off until now. I finally set a firm deadline that I had to do it by Valentine's, and before the weekend even. Today it was.

So when I put M down for an early afternoon nap, I got to work. I gathered up my crew of makeup and hair artists, costume specialists, videographers, and babysitters, and got to work!

(All of those were me. Except that Toy Story was the babysitter since it was too cold outside for me to find a real one.)

Short version: I made the video. And you will probably like it (at least after the first minute).

Long version: Here are the steps I took. Feel free to follow them at your own leisure if you want to create your own in-home YouTube piano series:

• Give your son headphones while he watches a movie
• Clean the living room, or at least mow what shows. (There's no time to really declutter, just to relocate the toys.) 
  
• Decide that you want to allude to Rapunzel in your hair and clothes. Which probably means you should have some flowers in your hair.
• Make a flower out of fabric held together with Scotch tape. It may or may not look like a flower when it's actually in your hair. 
• Calm the baby who has woken up to the sound of the heater turning on. Make a mental note to turn the heater off while you are playing piano.
• Set up a tripod with a high chair and books. Experiment with various angles.
  
• Dust the piano. That part you can't hide from the camera.
• Retrieve the baby, who has now woken up for good. Cuddle him for a bit, then set him down with a pacifier to contentedly look around and listen to you play.
• Start recording, only to notice the battery that claimed to have 66% power 10 minutes ago is now blinking low battery. It's okay. Toy Story is still going.
• Charge the battery and nurse the baby.
• After nursing and changing the baby, put him with quieter toys like stuffed animals instead of blocks. Hope that you can finish recording before he decides to jabber.
• Put makeup on after all. It might show depending where the camera is positioned.
• Turn the heater off.
• Put the partially-charged battery back in the camera. Move the high chair tripod around a few times to try and get a good angle. It may turn out that you didn't need makeup after all since they can only see your back.
• Do a few test runs with the camera. Change your clothes as necessary.
• Since the baby is antsy now, take him up to his brother (who no longer wants to use headphones). Scout the room for small objects that he can reach from his sitting position. Coast is clear. Tell them to sit and watch the movie for 5 more minutes.
• 30 seconds into recording, hear a lot of squeaking right above you.  Go into the room and discover your older son standing next to a wiggling pile of blankets. "He liked it when I dumped blankets on him," he says as you pull them off your flustered but smiling baby. Explain that when they move at all it squeaks. Toy Story is about done, so turn on a short show for them. Don't berate yourself for all the screen time.
• Start recording again. Play the song with as much musicality and emotion as you can muster. When you make mistakes, don't think about your adviser saying, "No one could tell you made mistakes" when you played for graduation 5 years ago. No, don't do that! Focus on the music at hand! Don't mind the little bit of squeaking upstairs now! You're so close to the end! Don't mess up don't mess up you don't want to start this over . . . you didn't mess up! 
• You did it! You made another video! Go rescue your children.
• . . . When you get cold, turn the heater back on.

And there you have it. Your guide to becoming a super famous YouTube artist.

I'm going to share this video again, just for good measure.

Poems from the Yellow Notebook: Balloon Version

(This post was originally published November 16, 2015)

Last Thursday, our family went to a free carnival put on for grad students and their families. It had everything a carnival ought to have -- carnival food, face painting, bean tosses, stuffed animals -- without any of the things that make carnivals not so great -- dirty, dark, expensive, creepy, loud, crowded, etc.

Capta Nerica.

As we were leaving, the organizers of the activity asked if we'd like a balloon. We looked at everything we would have to manage to get on and off the bus in the drizzly, windy night -- a stroller, baby in the car seat, new teddy bear, balloon animal Spiderman, diaper bag -- and said, "Sure."

Well, we made it, and even our balloons made it too. This was great news, but it also meant that J had to suffer the disappointment of watching his balloon lose its helium. It's like what Harvey Dent said in Batman* -- "You either lose your balloon in the sky or it lasts long enough to become really lame."

No offense, peg-leg Spiderman.

Anyway, a long time ago I explored the first fate of the carnival balloon in a poem recently discovered in my yellow notebook. (Luckily or unluckily for you, this is probably the second to last poem I will share because the rest are too painfully embarrassing, even now.)

Where do lost balloons end up

When they float from a child's hand?

Do they end up in the sky

Or back down on the land?

Scientifically, we know that

Balloons will pop up high

When the pressure kept inside it

Exceeds the pressure of the sky.

But, what then? Does it float back down

To where it first ascended?

Are fairgrounds littered with bits of balloon

Which reached the sky while untended?

Or do they fall into the seas

Which cover most the globe,
Or deserts, or jungles, or swamps --

Nowhere that anyone would probe.

Ah, to follow the route of a balloon

Into the stratosphere,

Then follow it down back to the ground

To see if it lands far or near.

Does anyone actually know the answer to my question? I know I ran into a fallen balloon once on a hike, but I feel like it should happen a lot more often given how many balloons there are.

Also, do balloons even make it to the stratosphere?

*paraphrased, of course. Very, very paraphrased.