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Jeff, what an awful experience! I can only imagine how upsetting that would be - it sounds very very scary.

I'm very glad to hear you're doing better and on the road to recovery!

Heal well, heal quickly!

Glad you are back, Jeff

How scary, Jeff! I'm so glad to hear you're all right now, but that's one lousy way to bring in the new year.

But at least you know now that you don't respond well to those twilight drugs and will know to avoid them for future procedures.

Thanks again, guys.

The literature says that it takes three to five days to recover for each day in the hospital; by that standard, I am doing well.

It is interesting to contemplate how it happens that consciousness can be disconnected from the brain, and yet a well-disciplined nervous system can still do so many things, without the help of consciousness and without memory.

Yet consciousness comes back on its own... it must have been somewhere. Where? What? and How? Very interesting questions, at least, to me. No answers exactly, though.

At the hospital this afternoon, Maria, who is almost blind these days, was playing tangos on the rather lovely Boston grand in the lobby. That got them going, even the people in walkers. I wheedled a few more out of her just for the delight of watching and hearing. She usually plays a lot of show tunes, but the tango fired her up. It made me want to rent a hall and give a tango party--- what fun; what glamour. Then she followed it up with some Gershwin, including my favorite "Our Love Is Here to Stay."

Yesterday in Wedding History: January 5, 1759- Martha Custis marries George Washington. He was her second husband; her first having died and left her a lady of independent means.

From http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martha_Washington:

"Some think of Martha Washington as a rather frumpy woman who spent her days at the Revolutionary War winter encampments visiting with the common soldiers in their huts. But Nancy K. Loane, author of Following the Drum: Women at the Valley Forge Encampment, writes that the truth about Lady Washington is far more interesting.[4] Martha Washington was a spiffy dresser, assertive, and definitely a woman of independent means. And she was a woman who followed her man. Each year of the revolution, once the Continental Army settled in for the winter, General Washington wrote for his wife to join him at military camp. Each year after receiving the request Martha Washington—although she delighted in being at Mount Vernon with her large, extended family, and was lonely and anxious when away from Virginia—dutifully packed up her bags, got into the carriage, and started north. Martha Washington, determined and diminutive at five feet tall, had kept close to home before the revolution began; once the hostilities started, she traveled thousands of miles to be with her husband. (Martha Washington journeyed to the General because she supported the cause of freedom and also because, as General Lafayette once observed, she loved "her husband madly").

"Martha Dandridge Custis, aged 27, and George Washington, aged nearly 27, married on January 6, 1759 at the White House plantation. It seems likely that Washington had known Martha and her husband for some time. In March 1758 he visited her at White House twice; the second time he came away with either an engagement of marriage or at least her promise to think about his proposal. She was, at the time, also being courted by the wealthy planter Charles Carter.[3]

Their wedding was a grand affair. The groom appeared in a suit of blue and silver with red trimming and gold knee buckles; the bride wore purple silk shoes with spangled buckles.[3] After the Reverend Peter Mossum pronounced them man and wife, the couple honeymooned at White House for several weeks before setting up housekeeping at Washington's Mount Vernon estate. Their marriage appears to have been a solid one, untroubled by infidelity or clash of temperament.

Martha and George Washington had no children together, but they raised Martha's two surviving children.

"Content to live a private life at Mount Vernon and her homes from the Custis estate, Martha Washington nevertheless followed Washington into the battlefield when he served as Commander in Chief of the Continental Army. She spent the infamous winter at Valley Forge with the general, and was instrumental in maintaining some level of morale among officers and enlisted troops. She opposed his election as President of the newly formed United States of America, and refused to attend his inauguration (April 30, 1789). As the First Lady, Mrs. Washington hosted many affairs of state at New York and Philadelphia (the capital was moved to Washington D. C. in 1800 under the Adams administration).

Martha Washington and her husband both died at Mount Vernon, with Martha dying of high fever on May 22, 1802, slightly over two years after her husband."

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And... let someone else forget to mention it: today is Alexander Scriabin's birthday, Jan. 6, 1872. I can't think of anything of his you could play at a wedding, unless it was a wedding in a Fellini film. Love him just the same, though.

Welcome back, Clef! Thank goodness you're okay after the extended Twilight Sleep episode. That's a horrifying story and I'm glad the worst of it is behind you.

Hope your physical rehab is going well. I've been thinking of you. My mom had knee replacement surgery several years ago, and I know it's not exactly an easy operation. Your anesthesia complications certainly complicated an already complicated recovery process. But from the tone of your last post, it seems you're already back in Clef-land! Who else would put Martha Washington and Scriabin in the same "Let's Talk Weddings" post? Brilliant.

Sending lots of music, light, and laughter your way . . .

"I'll Take Honeymoon Destinations for 200, Alex:"

January 5, 2005 – Eris, (more popularly and properly known as the Planet Xena), the largest known dwarf planet in the solar system, is discovered ...using images originally taken on October 21, 2003, at the Palomar Observatory.

January 8, 1297 – The Principality of Monaco gains its independence. [Though] French is the only official language, Monégasque, Italian and English are also widely spoken and understood. Monaco's name comes from a nearby 6th century BC Phocaean Greek colony. According to an ancient myth, Hercules passed through the Monaco area and threw out the previous gods. The temple of Hercules Monoikos was constructed there,[and] the city was called Monoikos.

The [original] grantee... sold the royal concession [to] the Blancs, who had already set up a highly successful casino in Homborg, and who quickly petitioned Charles III to rename a depressed seaside area known as "Les Spelegures," or "Den of Thieves," "Monte Carlo," or "Mount Charles." They then constructed their casino in the newly dubbed "Monte Carlo" and cleared out the area's less-than-savory elements to make the neighborhood surrounding the establishment more conducive to tourism.

[*** You read that right--- slum clearance in Monaco.***]

Monaco's own citizens are not allowed to gamble in the casino. They pay compulsory social insurance premiums which total nearly 50% of their annual income, although there is no personal income tax as such.

Monaco's population is unusual in that the native Monegasques are a minority in their own country. A 'Monacoian' is the term used to describe a person living in Monaco who is not a citizen of Monaco.

The Princess Grace Hospital Centre, [was named] in honor of Princess Grace of Monaco who, [not without irony,] died there as a result of injuries caused by a car accident in 1982 [apparently subsequent to a stroke suffered while driving the treacherous mountain roads while conducting a violent quarrel with her daughter, Princess Caroline.]

[synopsized from Wiki]

Well, let's put it this way. If you could choose, would you have Heart Attack Number One, suffered while shoveling snow somewhere in the Rust Belt, or Heart Attack Number Two, suffered after losing your last franc at the roulette wheel at the casino in Monte Carlo.

As many menus sternly remind us: "NO SUBSTITUTIONS."

I'm just saying.

And in Other Wedding News:

Happy Birthday Gypsy Rose Lee, January 8 1911. Three marriages, a son born to none of the husbands, authoress of two novels, a memoir, and a stage play.

Said a fan, "She took a full fifteen minutes to remove a single glove, and was so charming and entertaining I would have gladly given her another fifteen minutes."

Wives and prospective wives may want to give this statement some thought.

Very interesting Jeff - I wondered about the origin of the placename Monaco. What is odd,(to me) is that Italians call Munich "Monaco di Bavaria". After reading your post, I looked up Munich and discovered.

Its native name, München, is derived from the Old High German Munichen, meaning "by the monks' place". The city's name derives from the monks of the Benedictine order who founded the city; hence the monk depicted on the city's coat of arms.

Amazing how many European towns started off with monasteries! The town I live in had a major religious popularion in the 12-14th centuries, during which they (Cistercians) founded hospices for the elderly and infirm. Move to modern day .... we've got one of the top geriatric research centres in the country. Interesting how it all unfolds.

"Move to modern day .... we've got one of the top geriatric research centres in the country."

Fannie Flagg was being interviewed about her book "Fried Green Tomatoes," when the interviewer asked her for the recipe for this dish.

"I hate to give out this recipe," Fannie sighed. "It is no secret why the South has the best cardiac hospitals in the world: it is because of recipes like this."

Well, the interviewer couldn't let go of that. "Really, Fannie? Tell us."

"All right. Well, you just slice up some green tomatoes and shake them in a paper bag with some flour and salt and black pepper. Then you fry them up in a black iron frying pan in some old bacon grease. That's it."

Yes. I remember that coffee can full of bacon grease my mom used to keep on the back of the stove. That was so valuable you couldn't even buy it in a grocery store. And sure enough, 90% of my family has succumbed to either heart attacks or strokes. Besides that, the number of houses that have been burnt to the ground because of bacon grease too near an open flame is beyond any tabulation.

"Gypsy" is perhaps my favorite musical. I learned all the words to "Gotta Have a Gimmick" when I was about eleven years old. Later in life I tried to channel her slow motion glove removal when I had my classical-pianist stripper gig. I had to cut holes in the glove fingers, though, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to bang out the Chopin.

I was in Munich in November, and, although the dirndls are cute and there's something to be said for the beer and giant pretzels, trust me, it's no Monaco.

Casinitaly, sounds like you live in a pretty cool place! Lucky you.

Hey, Valentine's Day is right around the corner. I am sincerely hoping for a Buttercup Blondeau sighting at the castle.

I still remember my electric organ teacher teaching me "Everything's Coming Up Roses" when I was a teenager.. Loads of fun. He played at Radio City Music Hall. GYPSY

we actually had an aluminum can with a lid that held about 40 ounces on the back of our stove.. it actually sat in the middle. There was a black melamine knob and the imposed capital letters GREASE. The GREASE would be liquified when the oven was on the winter. My mom would spoon out a spoonful or 3 for frying potatoes, porkchops or eggs. The GREASE would also be liquified in the heat of the summer.

it looked something like this. We had matching salt and pepper shakers. My brothers still have them as well as the grease canister

When I went to work Saturday, old Father Joe was delighted to see me.. " I haven't seen you since mid December" (the regular organist played at all the Christmas services).. I told him that I was sorry I drove down for naught on New Year's Eve. Perhaps there was a bit of a language glitch because he said "Don't worry about it".

We are on Day 2 of SNOWDAY in KC... only 5 inches or so, but we take these things seriously.

Hope you are feeling better everyday JeffClef. I hope all is well with all of you.

I see how it is now with Buttermilk--- uh, Buttercup. An entire banquet feast would be too much, but a brief sighting--- enough to get the hens clucking and the roosters crowing--- would wake up the event. Hmmm... Sondheim... you could do a lot worse. I wonder if she could do one number (only) from "Gypsy," (the Rosalind Russell version, of course): "I Had a Dream/Rose's Turn." But can she sing? Can she act? And can Robin (though I don't doubt it) tear up that part on the piano that was scored for brass. It could end quite naturally, with the little business where Gypsy walks Rose off to the party. A little instrumental bridge, "If Mama Were Married," to change the mood while the diners recover their dropped jaws and the waiters hurry around with trays of chilled champagne and little dishes of tangy sorbet.

Yes, Apple, we had one of those GREASE cans, too; all our relatives did, too. They were mass produced. Who would have dreamed a humble GREASE can would be the touchstone for an era.

Thanks for asking. I am getting a little stronger each day. What an unusual experience--- I remember going to the hospital, and nothing at all afterward until I "came back" into my body on a gurney in the Emergency Department, one week later, with no idea how I got there, who I was, or, really, anything except that I was in an excellent amount of pain AND had world-class diarrhea--- and no bathroom. Besides, I was tethered everywhere with IVs and electrodes. The highlight of my New Year's Eve was when Dr. Martin, the orthopedics resident, came in and drilled into my kneecap. You may think that's a strange thing to say, but he is a very cool guy, and one of the living gods of that department. He had to find out, then and there, if there was infection--- for that is a disaster, and means immediate surgical intervention. The relief on his face, when he learned that it was not so, was better than any fireworks display... you pick the city, and I'll raise you a Dr. Martin.

So, out of the dark eclipse, quite abruptly, and into the penumbra. That phase has lightened up, little by little, and continues. The docs say that it is not so simple as a reaction to any one medication, but that it is "multi-factorial." I will try to learn more about this. Anyway, I am well cared-for, and am doing better daily.

My Mom used to cook bacon just to get the grease.

Hey, I recently read yet another study that said the Atkin's diet (high fat/protein, low carbs) lowers cholesterol and heart disease.

Jeff, I feel so disconcerted every time I think about your experience - I can only wonder at how horrid it must be for you. I've had a few surgeries myself, and an they are tough enough to deal with on their own, never mind having an experience like that on top of it all. It is good to hear you are healing well - I hope you get some answers to the puzzle - I should think that would offer a bit of peace of mind on the whole thing.

My mother-in-law used to keep a tin of bacon grease on the back of the stove too - It always surprised (and somewhat revolted) me.
I mean, seriously, we all know we love bacon grease..... but I just don't want to see a tin of it hanging about all the time
(I must be in some sort of denial eh?)

Well, maybe it's enough to say, Cheryl--- I certainly have no wish to make you or Robin suffer on my behalf, or to feel creeped out. I'm enjoying a good recovery from the operation now, which pleases the PT people, and I'm having the interesting experience of returning my thanks to those who cared for me while I was ill. From their response, it would seem they're not so accustomed to encountering thanks. The cheap thanks, where people say, "Goodbye, thanks;" maybe. The thanks where you write to their boss and bring them flowers, not so much.

As to that subtle and numinous world where the gross and horrid verities are barred; where pain and physical distress never cross the doorstep, I can only say that it seemed peaceful. Anyway, that is the impression I retained on emerging. But you guys, who knowing nothing, remembered and sent good thoughts my way, with only a blind hope that they would ever see service... how could I ever return an adequate thanks to you? All I can say is that I do thank you, and to report that it seems that benevolences of this kind do find their mark, and sustain the heart and spirit. It is mysterious, but so many things about life are.

You were missed, Clef. Plain and simple. We were sending vibes, musical and otherwise.

That's great that you wrote to the boss and sent flowers. This will make a huge difference for those kind people who took care of you.

Hope the rehab is coming along. It will, you know. By wedding season you'll be able to kick Wilma von Weasel up the aisle and back.

How lovely you wrote to the boss and sent flowers, I 'm sure both were sincerely appreciated.

Life is indeed mysterious - and yes, maybe it is odd to be concerned about someone you don't know "in real life", but as I've said before, I think your nature shines through the posts you write, and you let us see the best of you - it's easy to be concerned and wish you well.

....not only that, my you have a wonderful poetic way with words.

Here's to the myriad mysteries of life!

I agree, Cheryl! Clef's posts are a highlight here.

Intelligence+Whimsy=CLEF

Meeting with a bride for a consultation next week. Here is what I always want to say at these things: "Nice to meet you. I'll play some stuff. It will sound really pretty but you won't hear it because you'll be flitting all over the place. Don't worry, and make sure you wear comfortable shoes. See you in June."

But instead I will sit there politely for two hours, drink the coffee and listen to all the details, which will be no different from what I've heard 1,000 times. Planning a wedding is like having a baby. Everyone thinks they're the first person in the world to do it. I've been there and I'm just as guilty as the brides I'm dealing with now! So I forgive them.