is there any more pie?

Meet my fiddle. I love her.

There’s an old joke that goes, “What’s the difference between a violin and a fiddle?”
“Attitude.”

The fiddle obsession has officially begun for the summer. And that is a good thing, devil or no devil.

Last week Glen, brother-in-law Burt* and I stopped into the music store in town and happened upon the new fiddle teacher, appropriately named “Fiddlin’ Fred”.  I bravely booked some lessons with him.

On Saturday afternoon we (meaning two carloads of visiting family) went to a local bar to hear Fred perform. He also played guitar, mandolin, spoons and some kind of mouth twanger, which I wouldn’t recommend because he said it’s all too easy to chip a tooth.

We stayed for almost three hours and had such a great time–when we reluctantly left, we stuffed the tip jar so full that Fred later told me he was able to buy himself a new pair of cowboy boots.

On Tuesday I raced to town, braving the construction traffic and the tourists, to my first lesson.  I am now practicing an Irish tune  I can’t pronounce.  Fred uses tablature (a kind of shorthand) instead of notes, which makes the process a challenge.

In other words, I don’t really understand it.

After the lesson  (and having my bridge taken down a tiny bit, which made a huge difference in the height of the strings, making playing a heck of a lot easier), I hustled to another part of town to join two of my fellow band members for their mandolin and guitar lesson.

We worked on new song ideas, harmonies and arrangements.  We sang and played our happy little butts off for over an hour.  Next week it will be even longer.  As the teacher put it, “We’ll just play until we’re tired.”

I liked his enthusiasm.

This afternoon we had a mini-practice to see if we remembered what we learned on Tuesday.  And to give Glen the thrill of playing with us (his food-processor injury has healed).  He likes leading those gospel songs.

Tomorrow we have another “strings” practice.  Then a full band jam/practice next Wednesday night, when we will test new song ideas.  There’s a rumor that the brass section is working up a super hot blues number, definitely something to look forward to.

Did you know you burn 70 calories an hour playing the violin? At this rate, I will weigh 100 pounds by Labor Day.

*years ago his nieces thought he looked exactly like Burt Reynolds–it’s good to have a famous uncle.

Eileen absolutely loves our music.  Our songs make her want to take off her pants and wear big, bright shirts.

We like that about her.

There are some who will tell you that she was in a bar fight at the Playhouse Bar in the mid-seventies.  Ah, those were the days…

And she once out-chugged the loggers at Murphy’s.  She was the last woman standing, an empty glass of beer in her hand, but I’ll bet you could tell that from her picture.

Eileen herself admits to dancing on a table while on a cruise, prompting her dance partner to exclaim, “Why, honey, you have more moves than a monkey on a stick!”

We’re all (maybe not her daughter, our keyboard player, who is rather well-behaved most of the time) hoping that she will show off some of those monkey moves at our next gig.  Until then, I’ll keep her picture in my fiddle case.

Come back soon, Eileen.