The singing group is coming together. I wasn't very descriptive about the makeup of the group yesterday. There are about 10 men and 12 women, about 80% showing up per day. Average age is high, around 40 or 50. I'm one of about three "young people" in the group. They rehearse every weekday at 3 PM, and I found out today I'll be teaching afternoon classes, which are from about 1PM to 6 PM. Since I've been working on the schedule, I should be able to give myself the time off to stick with this group. I think it would be really cool to teach three classes, sing, then teach a couple more. It's going to be hard, but rewarding.
I'm definitely going to have to start voice work soon, too, to keep this all balanced - especially if I end up doing theater. I noticed that, like any a capella group, when first starting out, we fall flat very quickly. I don't have perfect pitch or anything, but I know when I can hit a note one time, then it's too low the next time around, then lower, etc., that we're going flat. It probably doesn't help that the director is a baritone and the other basses are BASSES. In the States, I'm a low bass, but here I'm a definite bari, at least until my voice frees up in the low range. It's scary the notes these guys can hit. Think the bass from Rockapella times 3 people. (If you haven't heard Rockapella, they did the Carmen Sandiego theme and the Folger's commercials. Immediately purchase a CD of theirs.)
It was hot again today - probably in the mid-90s - like it is most every day. And everyone talks about the heat, for the same reason we talk about the weather. Because it's something that affects every single one of us, so it's immediately common ground.
Anyway, we have a freezer that we cycle on and off to give us cold water - which has been amazing. Most of the time, part or all the water is frozen in the bottle. For some reason this reminded me of the past summer when I'd leave Dirt Devil with a water bottle full of ice on those really hot days. Days hotter than this, riding on impossibly radiant pavement. (Was that a word? I don't know.) And I remember how great the wind felt and the feeling of getting home, changing out of my sweat-soaked clothing and walking around half-naked. Of course now, just walking 5 minutes from school does the same thing, but without the workout.
I do miss my bike.
KITCHEN UPDATE***
I started a fire today.
We have a two-burner, electric stove. The right burner, when the unit is plugged in, is always warm. When we make french fries, which is often, we like to use a small pan. We also recycle the oil. We have a larger frying pan, but it's too big for the burners so doesn't work as well. We've had problems with there being too much oil and it spilling onto the burner in the past, but nothing serious.
I think that's all the background info you need.
So I was making french fries - trying a new cut this afternoon - and since I only had one potato, I figured I'd use the small pan. Knowing oil liked to spill out from that pan, I only filled it halfway, thinking that was a good level. Well, this story would be going nowhere if it weren't for the fact that I had indeed put too much oil in. As I started the fries, a drip started on one side. I tried to balance it so that the oil was level, but to no avail. Soon, the oil caught on fire - a small, little burst that ended as soon as it started. So I took the pan off, but in so doing, managed to spill a significant amount on to the burner. I transferred the contents of the pan to the larger pan and put it back on the burner.
Before I knew it, it started smoking and as I lifted the pan up, discovered a nice campfire started up. It seemed small enough to try and blow out, but in so doing, I only served to amplify the flames to eye level. This was a little disconcerting.
By the way, the burners are right by the back door. Knowing my breath was not going to extinguish the flames and that an electrical appliance which was PLUGGED IN was on fire, I reached for the unopened packet of Baking Powder and started to throw it very quickly on the flames. (Yes, I opened it first.) In the middle of this, Jorgito walks through the open door, notices the fire licking our chimney, white smoke from the Baking Powder, and just keeps on walking, commenting on the nice fire I made.
Panic is not in his vocabulary.
I finish extinguishing the inferno, talking with 'Gito the whole time. He leaves, and not a minute later, the meter reader shows up. Our meter is inside the house. Luckily, the smoke had cleared, but what would he have thought, walking in 5 minutes earlier? THAT would have been entertaining.
Telling Blake this story (after I cleaned the kitchen completely), he wondered why we weren't given fire extinguishers in our medical kits.
I figure it's probably because volunteers have to work harder to start fires than to put them out. Both literally and figuratively.
I made some good spaghetti sauce tonight:
Onions and garlic, sauteed
Tomatoes
Piri-piri sauce
Ketchup and equivalent amount of water
Cayenne pepper
Black pepper
Basil
Bay leaves
Green peppers
I think I'll call it "Where there is no tomato paste". Well, there is, but I forgot to buy it.
On this, the 400th page of my journal thus far, I submit to you the nth installment of writing in my journal about writing in my journal. It's been a great journey so far, and it's really only beginning. I hope I can keep up the writing the busier I get, but this is important to me so I think it will get done. More importantly, it's crucial to my loved ones' understanding of me and my experiences here.
I often get Emails about my writing, which are encouraging but pressure me to push this in one direction or another. I've been trying to ignore this effect, but it's hard. This writing thing works best when I'm not concerned about what people want to hear.
Ironically, this is all about helping people understand another part of the world and how it affects me. Yet when I respond to the people who read this, the quality declines. Usually, people close to me or interested in my life are an integral part of my life - my day-to-day interactions. But that's what makes this situation so difficult - others don't know what this is like, so how can they expect me to write in a certain way?
I think I've beaten this to death now. By the way, thank my mom for typing all this in.
Peace
John
