Rachel S. Heslin
Thoughts, insights, and mindless blather

Didn't think of that
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Friday night, I murdered a hydrangea.

My boss had given me the plant. It was a single ball of lavender and pale green flowers in a little pot. Hydrangeas always make me think of the Bill Cosby routine about Lombard Street, since they're the type of flowers that he said were planted to commemorate the people who died trying to get down the curvy street.

I'm allergic to mold, so I left it on the railing of the porch where I could see it but couldn't have to breathe it. I figured, since I knew they were planted outdoors on Lombard St., it was an outdoors plant.

When I walked out Saturday morning, I was greeted by a sickly, greyish white, droopy ball of sadness. My immediate thought was, "But I haven't *had* it long enough to have forgotten to water it!"


San Francisco doesn't drop to 28 degrees overnight.


My other aHa! of the weekend is of a happier nature. The reason I couldn't reach the upper few octaves of the piano strings is because there is a slim board that traverses the width of the piano to hold music. As I was playing, I looked at how the board was inset into the body of the piano. Hmm. That looks suspiciously like a groove. Let me see....

Yep. After a couple of experimental tugs, I was able to pull that sucker all the way off, and I can now reach the strings without needing to climb inside the piano.


Keys tuned: 3, kind of. I've misplaced my electronic tuner, so I had to do it be ear, and I can tell they're a bit off, but at least I can now play "Winter."


In theory, there is no difference between theory and practice; in practice, there is.
- Chuck Reid

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