one, two, three, four, fife

A while back I asked the president of the (now inactive) club I (used to) advise where she had gotten one of the flutes she brought to the club meetings. She said she bought her instruments at a shop called Lark in the Morning in San Francisco. Since I tend to like to avoid driving in San Francisco whenever I can, I didn't think any more about it. I have been wanting to buy a keyless flute of some type, preferably of a fairly deep voice (although that's hard to deal with with my small hands, because the deeper-voiced, the larger and the bigger the spaces between the holes; but I digress) for many years now, but have never gotten to it mainly because I think, what would I do with it? I don't think I'm prepared to really put in the effort to learn how to play the flute, although it would be cool to be able to do so, and more to the point, to write my own music (tried and failed this many times on several instruments; it seems I just don't have the creative wherewithal, never mind the necessary skill). But neverminding all that, like a hammered dulcuimer, I just like the sound. I can make a flute make the right noises in general so I might be able to use single notes or aimless noodling in a magical context (I hear that shakuhachis, a type of Japanese flute, are sometimes used in meditation). But in any case, a couple weeks ago a catalog from Lark in the Morning (with the address marked as Fort Bragg - yikes, way up the coast; it'd be practically a pilgrimage to drive there, although I dunno but what that might beat the trial-by-fire that driving in SF is) showed up at my house, addressed to me. Jeanne can't possibly have given them my mailing address because she doesn't know it. I can't think of any possible connection to any other catalogs I receive, that is, who might have sold my name to them. It was utterly precedentless (at least in my perception - they must, logically, have got my name from somewhere) and synchronistic. So I can only guess that I am supposed to skip things I might otherwise have wanted to buy in the next pay cycle and go get me a flute. *boggle*

(despite the subject, I don't want a fife. way too high pitch. it was just the only flute-like instrument name I could think of a silly phrase to go with.)

one, two, three, four, fife

A while back I asked the president of the (now inactive) club I (used to) advise where she had gotten one of the flutes she brought to the club meetings. She said she bought her instruments at a shop called Lark in the Morning in San Francisco. Since I tend to like to avoid driving in San Francisco whenever I can, I didn't think any more about it. I have been wanting to buy a keyless flute of some type, preferably of a fairly deep voice (although that's hard to deal with with my small hands, because the deeper-voiced, the larger and the bigger the spaces between the holes; but I digress) for many years now, but have never gotten to it mainly because I think, what would I do with it? I don't think I'm prepared to really put in the effort to learn how to play the flute, although it would be cool to be able to do so, and more to the point, to write my own music (tried and failed this many times on several instruments; it seems I just don't have the creative wherewithal, never mind the necessary skill). But neverminding all that, like a hammered dulcuimer, I just like the sound. I can make a flute make the right noises in general so I might be able to use single notes or aimless noodling in a magical context (I hear that shakuhachis, a type of Japanese flute, are sometimes used in meditation). But in any case, a couple weeks ago a catalog from Lark in the Morning (with the address marked as Fort Bragg - yikes, way up the coast; it'd be practically a pilgrimage to drive there, although I dunno but what that might beat the trial-by-fire that driving in SF is) showed up at my house, addressed to me. Jeanne can't possibly have given them my mailing address because she doesn't know it. I can't think of any possible connection to any other catalogs I receive, that is, who might have sold my name to them. It was utterly precedentless (at least in my perception - they must, logically, have got my name from somewhere) and synchronistic. So I can only guess that I am supposed to skip things I might otherwise have wanted to buy in the next pay cycle and go get me a flute. *boggle*

(despite the subject, I don't want a fife. way too high pitch. it was just the only flute-like instrument name I could think of a silly phrase to go with.)

(no subject)

I have to wonder if these people have never heard of the mammal known as a lemur. I suppose "Lemur" is a valid term for "one who lived in Lemuria", but usually when making such word transformations, one would want to avoid a word with overriding silly connotations if there were a viable alternative ("Lemurian").

I now have horrible visions of Joey the Lemur (who was, in fact, not actually a lemur) romping through the ancient crystal grids of a lost civilization. (the splendiferous lemur, friend to all manKIIIIIIIIIND!)

(no subject)

I have to wonder if these people have never heard of the mammal known as a lemur. I suppose "Lemur" is a valid term for "one who lived in Lemuria", but usually when making such word transformations, one would want to avoid a word with overriding silly connotations if there were a viable alternative ("Lemurian").

I now have horrible visions of Joey the Lemur (who was, in fact, not actually a lemur) romping through the ancient crystal grids of a lost civilization. (the splendiferous lemur, friend to all manKIIIIIIIIIND!)