Annual Exchange Club Oyster Roast

So on Friday afternoon while I was teaching my last class of the day, my phone embarrassingly starts buzzing from within my desk drawer. Because the kids were working on their learning centers (which are pure AWESOMENESS if I do say so myself!) I was able to surreptitiously check who was calling. It turned out to be none other than Papa Cell. Thankfully, as is his habit, he left a voicemail saying, "Caroline, this is Papa calling. I wanted to know if you wanted to go to the Exchange Club Oyster Roast on Saturday with Beka and me. We can go at whatever time you like; it's from 4:30-7:30. And I wanted to know if you wanted me to get you a ticket. I'll get you one anyway just in case."

It was very lovely to have my weekend planned for me: babysit my sweet flower girl from 9:30-2:30 and then go to an oyster roast (yes, Mom, I do like oysters now :) ). It was quite an unorganized affair, as Papa had warned me, yet lovely nonetheless. We sat at a table with Mary Ann, Anne, Norman, and the first guy who's name I can't remember and schemed about how to make next year's roast more chic and organized by adding high top cocktail tables...

Normally I like eating small, over cooked oysters that aren't so gooey. But Papa convinced me to eat several large gooey ones... and even Aunt Beka ate one! ("I didn't like it, but I ate it.")

A lovely time was had by all.

Open Mic Night

Here are some photos from the POETICS Open Mic Night!

I can't remember the first time I performed at an open mic night. I do remember being in talent shows all through lower and middle school; and I remember more clearly performing a myriad of songs at the Outside Inns during high school. The Outside Inns had a very cool, in the jazziest sense of the word, atmosphere complete with round tables draped with checkered cloths and wine bottles caked in candle wax ensconcing the stubby nubs of leftover candles (most likely furnished from the Selby family household; the wine bottles were donated by the Hubbards). The lights were turned down low, stage lights illuminating center stage and a threadbare faux-Persian rug, a chair, and microphones. Avoiding the electric cords for guitars and amps that snaked across the stage, the most talented (or maybe just the bravest) students would make their way to the limelight.

And I can remember the last true open mic night that I played at. That was the summer of 2008, in Baltimore, just before I left for España. e and I learned "Walking with the Ghost" and "If I Met Me" in about two days; she played guitar and I sang harmony. It. was. awesome.

A record for my children...

Following in first Grandma's then Dad's footsteps (penstrokes?), I am going to record a bit of my childhood memories as well some things that transpired last night because they reflect the family and traditions in which I grew up, and I hope that they are telling of what Joey's and my family will look like someday.

I have many memories of sitting with my class during assembly at Chesapeake Academy watching Dad signal to 1/4 of the student body to sing "hello" on one note and hold it as long as they could. After a few seconds, he would signal to the second quarter of to students to sign "hello" a third above the first group. Next he would motion to the third quarter of students to sing yet another "hello" a fifth above the first group. Finally he would motion to the last group of students to sing "hello," creating a beautiful Mm7. Then, à la the Three Stooges, the entire school would speak, "hello!" These are my first memories of practicing ear training.

These exercises, however, were not limited to my academic school day. My sister and I grew up in a very musical family and everybody played at least one instrument or sang. Our little nuclear family would frequently sing barber shop standards-- Sweet and Low-- as well as old gospel tunes in four part harmony. We sang at home, in the car, in choirs, in musicals... in restaurants over dinner (which cause my sister and I to cry from embarrassment).

Last night on the way home from dinner I was brought back to my childhood. Joey and I sang scales using solfege the entire way home from dinner. After we arrived in the parking lot, we spent another five minutes or so constructing seventh chords with our voices. Then we started imagining singing these exercises with our children ("You will sing a tritone or I am pulling this car over!")...