It's finally winter, and it's all about wool

After the holiday season and before St. Patrick's Day, there's usually a wonderful lull in my schedule. I can snuggle in, watch movies, give the cats some quality snuggle-time, reconnect with friends, let the harps gather a little dust. And knit. Knit, knit, knit, knit, knit.

There are some projects on the needles, but I got distracted by an idea I saw on a holiday wreath and just couldn't get it out of my head. So I decided to try it.

 Felt flowers. 

Adorned with vintage earrings in the center.

I had a great time with these. I gave the trial run to my Mom for Christmas, and she loved it. 

She wore it all day.

The colorful flowers in the first photo I gave to my aunts - at the Kortuem Family Christmas Extravaganza. They loved them, too. Pinned them on right away and wore them all afternoon.

OK, back to knitting...

Lake Superior at midnight

And as the waves crashed to the shore and the snow fell

and the fire burned down, I bid farewell to 2011. 

Do you hear that? 

Music no human can emulate.

Welcome. Oh, welcome 2012.

Playing the harp in a sequined dress

A black dress covered in sequins for New Year's Eve. 

50% off. A lining that guaranteed I'd feel 10 pounds slimmer.

 It seemed like such a good idea that I even bought jewelry to match.

And standing there in the dressing room, everything certainly seemed fine. Actually, I don't ever just STAND in a dressing room when I'm trying on potential "harp clothes." I sit down and stretch my arms forward to make sure I can move. I squat to make sure I don't split anything out when I lift and load the harp. I twist around to make sure I have enough give in the sleeves to quickly turn pages of music on the stand in front of me. I bend down in front of the mirror to make sure nothing is...ahem...visible...from all sorts of angles. Then I jump up and down a little, just for fun. Dressing room monitors must love it when I try on clothes. Anyway, the dress passed the tests. 

Well, here's what they don't tell you in Vogue or InStyle or Glamour about wearing sequins - they're itchy as heck. They slice you around the neck. They scratch up your inner arms when you walk or lift them to play. They catch each other making for some awkward movements while you're trying to detach them without ripping your dress mid-song. They shed - all over the floor around you like confetti while you play.

And that lining? It didn't make me feel slimmer. After about 20 minutes of playing, it made me feel like I was being swallowed by a huge spandex python. Worse, the lining started rolling up on itself. Then it started riding up my legs. 

And up. And up. See what I mean?

eeeeeek!

The dangerous thing about playing the harp is that you hold the thing between your knees so you kinda need your legs covered to a point to prevent things from becoming x-rated. And dinner at Naniboujou is a family event, people. So I took a couple of breaks from the harp and hid in the hallway to readjust things. 

So, sequined dress...

...for sitting around and sipping sparkling things, you're ok.

But as a "harp dress," you failed, honey.

Oh, that fireplace...

It's the one at Naniboujou Lodge in Grand Marais.

The biggest in Minnesota.

But it needs something...

...yeah, that's more like it.

Naniboujou Lodge asked if I would provide music for their New Year's Eve dinner, and honestly I couldn't think of a cozier, more beautiful place to be as 2011 turned into 2012. So I packed up the harp and squeezed everything into the trusty TrailBlazer and hit the road. It's about 400 miles to Naniboujou Lodge from my house. But this mild Minnesota winter made the drive easy. I brought music to listen to - Loreena McKennitt singing some old favorites, Anne Azema singing medieval troubadour songs, haunting music by Icelandic composer Olafur Arnalds - to help pass the time. And just as I pulled into the lodge, it started to snow gently. Perfect.

 On New Year's Eve night, I put on my sparkliest dress, 

wheeled the harp in front of all that glorious fire and played. 

 And played and played and played.

I said goodbye to my Christmas and holiday music and worked in some Celtic, some Classical, some Baroque. Some Amy Kortuem originals. As dinner turned to dessert turned to coffee, people gathered at the fireplace to listen. I kept playing.

Finally the hostess came over and told me that the chef had made me a second dinner because the first dinner had gone cold. Nearly everyone had gone back to their rooms. I reluctantly took the harp from my shoulder and moved to my table.

Toasted the evening with sparkling cider and another log on the fire.

Christmas tired us out

Belle, snuggled in her nest.

Sam The Cat, lounging in the sunshine.

Yeah, ok, Harry.

I guess I forgive you for the

fiery cookie baking incident...

We've all been taking it easy during this "in between" week. Lots of naps, lots of snuggle time on the couch. Good times, Amy and kittens.

Christmas baking, with Harry's help

Every year, I make my Dad dozens and dozens of his favorite chocolate chip cookies for Christmas. He affectionately calls them "lard biscuits" - each batch calls for a cup of oil AND a cup of shortening. Mmm, delicious. Ahem. So I put on my favorite Christmas CDs and got ready.

I had everything on the counter I needed:

flour, sugar, brown sugar, said oil and shortening,

salt, cream of tartar, eggs...

...and the New Oxford Book of Carols

right beside the candles.

You know, to double-check the lyrics to 

"E la don don Verges Maria" so I could sing along.

Loudly. And correctly.

Everything was going so well. Several batches were cooling on the counter. One batch was waiting on cookie sheets on the counter...beside the candles...

Yeah, you can tell where this is going, can't you?

I was doing some dishes when I smelled something burning. It wasn't the cookies in the oven; I'd just put them in there. When I turned around, I saw that Harry had jumped up on the counter and was standing over the candles to get to the cookie dough. And he was smoking on both sides.

HE WAS ON FIRE AND HE DIDN'T CARE BECAUSE HE WAS GETTING TO EAT COOKIES.

After much screaming (me) and hissy-hissy-hissing (him) and hosing him down and finding (relief) that he wasn't hurt and cutting off his burned fur and opening the doors and windows to get the smell out and tossing out two pans of cookie dough...

...I gave up. I baked the last batch of cookies and closed up the bakery. Harry sulked in the corner, nursing his pride and mourning the loss of huge hunks of glorious white hair on his sides. 

Oh, merry. So Harry-merry.

A harpist's Christmas story

It was hard to get in the Christmas spirit this year. There hasn't been snow for weeks. It feels more like March than December outside.

I didn't put up a tree this year. For the last couple of years, the cats (the boys, I think) have confused the tree skirt for a litter box and I just couldn't deal with it this year.

 So these wreaths had to do for Christmas decorations.

 Much safer, with the evergreens up off the floor.

And I had a crazy performance schedule this December. I played for lots and lots and lots of events the first two weeks of the month, and then had nothing to play for until Christmas Eve. Not a single party, church service or happy hour. It was odd, strange, empty. I paced a lot. Finally, I called my Mom and asked, "What should I do for two weeks in December if I'm not playing the harp?"

"Bake cookies and wrap presents like normal people," she replied. Normal people. I haven't been a normal person in December since I got a harp 23 years ago.

Finally, Christmas Eve arrived. The service wasn't until 7:00 p.m., so I did have time for some present wrapping during the day. (The baking? Yeah, read about that fiery disaster in a future post...) I polished up the harp, put on a pretty dress, warmed up the truck and...

...ahhhh. The harpist finally had a purpose

in December. 

I played mostly by the light of these trees.

In a full-circle story, this church was where I played my very first Christmas Eve service, many many many many years ago. I remember that night they turned off all the lights when it came time to sing Silent Night for the candle lighting, so a beautiful little girl came forward with her candle and knelt beside me so I could see my music. It's one of my favorite Christmas memories of all time. And that girl's mother became my dear friend.

The magic of Christmas Eve. I hope yours was wonderful, too.