This time for Moortje. He’s had this small wound on his neck that won’t heal.Of course, the fact that he often scratches there doesn’t help either. After waiting a couple of weeks for it to heal up, today we went to the vet. You may remember from an earlier post that here you are expected to be much more hands on at the vet. Today was no exception. I held him while the vet used cauterizing wand to seal it closed and then we bandaged him up. That smelled. He did pretty well, he really is an unflappable cat. He is now sporting a red bandage around his neck, rather like a bandanna. It gives him a vaguely cowboy style look. We go back in ten days to make sure the wound has healed. The thought was that it was a fat deposit that had burst open under the skin, hence the BBQ tool.
I went to yoga tonight, on the bike. My lights are apparently pedal operated so that is pretty handy. It was a little scary riding at night simply because I still have to pay attention to everything, only now it is dark. Oh yeah, and I had a beer with Renee after yoga. I suppose we should have gone for a herbal tea or something but this is Amsterdam. It was a really good yoga class, very mindful and intense. And it was held in the old part of a Catholic nursing home that used to be called Catharina Huis. So it was full of old wood and leaded windows.
Banjo lessons. What can I say? Well, for starters I have to get a new banjo because mine is crap. When I heard the difference in the sound between the teacher’s banjo and mine, I knew I had no choice. I think the best way I can describe how I hear banjo music is that I see light. I realize that sentence doesn’t make any concrete sense so let me make it worse. When I watched him play, the feeling I got was that I was seeing all kinds of bright lights coming off the strings. The sound is so clear. I am definitely going to take it up. Between now and my next lesson, I have to get a proper banjo.
Which leads me to the story of how I got this one. When we first moved into the big house, a deluge of catalogs came in the mail. You know, the “Surely we can sucker you into a purchase now that you have moved” campaign. Mom and I would go through the catalogs. I went a little crazy with the Hammacher Schlemmer catalog or however you spell it. In addition to ordering elf moccasins for my mom and a full sized body pillow that would actually cradle you, I also ordered a banjo. I figured that for a while we would be spending a lot of time at home until Mom got better and maybe I could learn the banjo. Rule number 1, never order a musical instrument from a catalog. When the stuff came, I was ready to learn banjo and serenade Mom with all of my attempts. She was horror struck and told me that if I wanted her to die instantly, just start playing that banjo – she didn’t think it was fair that I would torture her that way. So, the banjo stayed in the closet because in reality, I had too many other things to do. I think maybe Mom was remembering the tortuous flute practice I had in fourth grade or the recorder the year before that. Either way, she wasn’t really convinced that I had a musical talent. And to be clear, I am sure I don’t have one either, but I do know how to practice.
As I was sitting with Paul, the banjo teacher, I thought how much fun my mom would have had with this experience. I could hear her telling him not to bother since I was completely non-musical. I could also see her enjoying the show. And best of all, the clarity of the sound and how much it resembles light. Even though banjo definitely is more the soundtrack to the paternal side of my DNA, I think my mom would appreciate it. And it is a little bit odd, not a very common instrument here in Amsterdam. And I know my mom would have liked Paul! So, we’ll see how it goes and maybe, just maybe, I will end up using my banjo to send messages to Mom.