Beta Blogger

So, I switched to the new "Beta Blogger" that blogspot offers through google. Has anyone else done this? Is there anything on the "new and improved" blog I can now do that I didn't have before? I haven't figured it out yet.
Anyways, things are getting relaxing around here. I take my last exam in 20 minutes, and then turn in a one page essay on Thursday, and the semester is over.
I have to drive to Alan, TX tomorrow to drop my cello off for new bridge and strings. Sad thing is, bridge replacement is an overnight job, so I have to make two round trips to Alan (like, 70 miles away. RATs!) But, according to Mr. Osadchy, and others, this guy is cheaper, nicer, and more professional than the guy in Arlington I have used to date (who, a few times, is not at his store when the sign says they're open.)
Jordan comes home Friday, and I know I've already blogged that, but it's exciting.
Anyways, I'm headed home on Monday for about a week and a half. We're trying our hand at doing the family Christmas in League City this year. With Marla and Josh's new house, I guess that's now the place where everyone can fit most easily. So far it's us and the Moffatts, and then maybe (hopefully) Uncle Perry.
NEW: I am returning to Denton on December 30th. On the 31st, I am leading worship at the New Hope Church of Christ in Sunnyvale, TX. I am being considered for the part-time position of worship leader. This is on my prayers, and theirs as well. The church is about an hour away, and somewhat new. I think I'm going to find that I know a few families there, because they are a church plant from Mesquite CofC, a Bandina church. Also, the elder I've been talking to, Steve Kasinger, is the father of Jevanna Kasinger (Marla's ACU roommate, freshman year) and Josh Kasinger (League City's youth intern, '98?)

So many birds . . . . not enough stones

The jury went well, all things considered. It was better than any jury I've had before, but there were still some major problems. I'm happy with it, I got good reviews, but I'm glad it was not a recital or anything.
This has been a big week. My "dead" week consisted of three finals, a jury, and an 8 page paper. Next week, the actual finals week, I have a one page essay and a multiple choice exam. Shouldn't be anything too tough to prepare for.
I still have lots to do, but, by far, the hardest part is now over. Tomorrow, I'm going to Fort Worth to get a jumpstart with Clark on the piece I'm working on for next semester, Strauss Sonata in F. Hopefully, while I'm over there, I'll have a chance to say hi to my friend Christie who goes to TCU.
Sunday is the Christmas dinner at church, after which I will find myself with free time in the coming week nights.
Aaaaaaaannnddd, one week from today, JORDAN IS COMING HOME! She and I will overlap by a day or two before I head home for Christmas. That will be fun.
Alright then, it's nearly 9:00, time for the next exam. Bye.

Aunt Ingrid

For a few days I'd been wondering what I ought to write to remember Aunt Ingrid. Instead, this time, I'm just going to paste something written by somebody who both knew her better, and is also a better writer. Here is Uncle Perry's account of taking her remains to Lake Buchanan to say a final farewell.

To people who matter:
After Saturday's unforgettable memorial celebration in San Angelo, Anne and I drove Katharine Selznick of California to Lake Buchanan, near Austin.

Ingrid had directed us to scatter her ashes on the great highland lake because of its extraordinary beauty and sense of freedom.

Frigid temperatures and blustery winds late Sunday made it impossible to venture away from shore.
As night fell, six of us walked toward the water's edge. A great blue heron lifted off and majestically soared into the tangerine-colored sky.

With us were our hosts, Miriam and Robbis Storm, and their neighbor, Heike Jackson, a native Berliner.
The mood was quiet, but full of love and gratitude for Ingrid's life. Nothing stirred on the lake.
Robbis reenacted a Viking funeral ritual in miniature, launching a tiny paper boat that carried a lighted candle. It wafted across the surface toward a flock of migrating ducks.

Heike and Miriam sang a powerful old German anthem, "Lili Marlene," invoking visions of the late Dietrich.
Katharine read her poem as a tribute to Ingrid, while I scattered the ashes on the water and Anne stood nearby, observing intently.

We quaffed mugs of hot buttered rum, then heard Robbis paraphrase Horatio's salutation in the final act of Shakespeare's Hamlet: "Good night, sweet princess. And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!"

At 5 a.m., I returned alone to find the flickering lakeside candle that we left 11 hours earlier. A full moon cast a bright reflection on the glass-smooth water. No wind. Wisps of vapor rose eerily from the surface. Restless ducks paddled and quacked as if complaining that the sun overslept.

For nearly two hours, I contemplated friends and relatives who showed us uncommon kindness during our 38 years of marriage and marveling at all the happiness we had shared.

As dawn broke, the lovely Morning Star disappeared in the brightening eastern sky.
Maybe the dead are like stars -- not really gone, just hard for us to see sometimes.