It is so hot outside. I went out one last time, all the way to the barnyard, to give the animals our leftovers, feed our stray cat (if he's still around--who knows what else I might be feeding), and refill the water. I've dumped water on a few plants, and every time we have spare water in the house, I take it outside and dump it on something. We're starting to be afraid that at some point our well might run dry, so no more hose. I'm still filling the birdbath and a couple of containers of water for the animals.
It's so hot, as soon as I went outside, I'd swear my eyelids started to sweat. The window air conditioner downstairs can't keep up. We have two upstairs. I hate to think of what it's like for the people who still don't have power.
There was another storm in Fort Wayne last night. They just about had all of the traffic lights fixed, and now there are several of them out again, and at least 40 trees down, and another 10,000 without power--there were still a few thousand left without power from last week when it hit. And they think lightning hit a store in the small town nearby--it burned to the ground. It's just been quite a week around here.
It's uncomfortable just playing the piano or doing housework right now. I've learned over the last few weeks to take breaks. Even though I'm well. Tonight is one long break. There isn't any wind at all outside. I've been picking up lots of sticks out there. Last night I spent another half-hour or so picking up larger pieces of tree. I was happy to find one of my favorite little trees back in the woods, untouched, in the middle of the wreckage. We were lucky to hardly lose any of our smaller trees, with those two big ones and the top halves and limbs falling everywhere.
I'm still obsessed with Johannes. I found a wonderful analysis of Fugue No. 10--it's at the bottom of the candy jar at the right. I am improving, at least a little. Maybe one day I'll be able to actually play it. It's a masochistic little fling I'm having with this piece.
Oh, there's something I haven't mentioned on this blog yet: I have synesthesia. Don't worry, it's not contagious. lol Sometimes I see colors that go along with music. Fugue No. 10 is green and orange and yellow/tan and kind of shiny. I know it sounds weird, but it's not as uncommon as you might think. Some people see letters or numbers as each having their own color, for example. There are dozens of known forms of synesthesia. I know one person close to me who sees numbers as each having their own personality--a not-too-uncommon form which somehow sounded far stranger to me than my own. You can look up synesthesia online, and even take a test for it on the net, and I recommend one interesting book I've read about autism--'Born on a Blue Day', by Daniel Tammet, in which he describes his synesthesia. He's also face blind. That book may resemble the brochure that they should have handed my parents in the hospital when I was born.
Some people think it's a mild form of synesthesia when someone says something about a cheese tasting 'sharp', or a mint tasting 'cold'. Mine isn't bothersome. But some people are bothered by this. Some people can feel pain when another person is in pain, or see such vivid shapes when they hear sounds that it's impossible to walk down a noisy street. In fact, I often don't notice mine at all. It's often kind of like an odd smell that you almost can't smell at all. I almost don't see the color as much as 'notice' it. Does that make any sense? Probably not. Try explaining to a deaf person what a bird sounds like.
I didn't notice it at all until I'd been seriously studying piano for a year or so. Certain keys have certain colors. Bach's fugue is green and orange because there are a lot of B's and D's in it. Seventh chords tend to come across as 'shiny'. This was fun a few years ago when I discovered that seventh chords can be 'hidden' and I'd have to stop and try to find out where the 'shininess' was coming from. Chopin does fascinating things with seventh chords.
This is something that statistically sometimes goes along with autism. I was surprised to discover I had it--kind of like finding a room in the house that has been there all along, but I'd never noticed it before. I've wondered if it has anything to do with my migraines, which didn't start until I was in my twenties and have gotten worse these last few years (although magnesium tablets have helped enormously--doctors are starting to recommend them to migraineurs). Sometimes a migraine will affect what I see, changing it or making it more intense.
Yes, I've been known to utter things around the house like, 'This song is really blue tonight, I wonder if I'm going to wake up with a migraine in the morning.' Oh well, I'm sure I've said stranger things.
Anyway, I've done some more work on the second movement of my sonata. It's coming along. I scribbled all over the sheet music page I'd started with, and then I had to decode it onto more sheet music before I forgot what I'd meant. I have my own secret shorthand. It just happened, years ago.
I like lots of different colored ink pens. This suits my weirdness well. And if I write with a pen that doesn't match the song I'm composing, it irritates me. I've been known to get up in the morning with a piece of music going through my head, and automatically grab the proper pen that goes with the song before I start writing it down.
Back to the heat wave....My daughters have hardly been able to play outside all summer. It's been so uncomfortable outside. And we haven't had any money, so we've mostly just stayed home. At least we have power. It could be worse--we could be stuck at home with no TV, no internet, no air conditioning. We were lucky to only have to go 24 hours with lights--just long enough to appreciate what we have. Tomorrow the high is supposed to be 106, and then Sunday 86. I hope we don't have a storm like last week in between.
If for some reason you don't hear from me for a week, that might be the reason. I hope not.
We're sitting here watching the old "Journey to the Center of the Earth". It's just too hot to do much else if it isn't necessary. Late tomorrow night my eldest daughter will be returning from her trip. This is the longest and farthest we've ever been apart. I've missed her, but the time has passed quickly.
Nothing else happening here--I'm going to go surf the net now. Good night!
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