I talked to my new piano teacher this week. She is nearly as excited to get started with my lessons as I am! I guess my kids are so great, she can't wait to see if I'm the genetic source of that or something. We shall see.
I asked her what technique books she uses...you know, what I should be working on before we actually get started so that I'm not all creaky and rusty on the first day. And she told me to pull out my dear, old Hanon book of finger exercises and to be working on my scales.
My forearms and finger muscles are screaming at me. They are asking why, at this advanced age, we are returning to the tortures of our youth. I keep telling them that this is good for them and that, once we brush the dust off our skills, we will make beautiful music again. It will all be worthwhile.
My hands and arms have begun to buy into my pep talk. They have been responding and finding strength in the repetition of scales and arpeggios.
But, as I said before, the piano and I have a tempestuous relationship. We are on-again, off-again. We have fought over who really is the boss. And today, as I made my reconciliation efforts toward it, it bit me.
The piano drew first blood.
It's war now.
I had to cut my fingernails pretty short - shorter than they have been in a long time. And somewhere around exercise #16 in that Hanon book, something pinched right at the corner where my fingernail meets the side of the nail bed. But I pushed through. And it bit harder. So I stopped in the middle of exercise #17 to have a look, and for the first time ever, I have bled for the sake music.
Mind you, it's tiny. Minuscule. I will knit tonight and not really feel pain.
Also, the piano should know by now that I bite back.
Daily Bliss: all four of us - hubby, me and both kiddos - filling the house with laughter and fun because we all have the day off!
Wake-up Playlist: Jason Mraz, I'm Yours