They appear to be made in the same factory, the screw placement and all the dimensions are the same. Don't know if this was already common knowledge, but I found it interesting. Not bad harps at the price point.
Also, a shout-out to Rockin' Ron's, the sent within minutes of the order is no exaggeration. I will be buying from him again in the future.
It's been a year since I heard her voice, felt her hug, kissed her lips. I've had a year to figure things out, but I'm pretty sure I am not ever going to figure it out. Not even sure I want to bother anymore. Despite all the warning on this sub, I thought I'd be in a much better mental state after a year. I see now that was vanity on my part. I'll think of you all tonight, fellow bereaved. Hug if you want it.
Today is my first birthday without a significant other in 35 years. 29 years with my late wife, the other six with a girlfriend before her. Officially old now at 60. We'd planned to spend my birthday on San Juan Island, we'd picked out a hotel and discussed places to eat. We didn't get to do much for my 59th, as she was working long hours and money was tight. We wanted something big for the round number and the “senior discount” time
She started a well-paying gig four days before she died, it would've relieved all the money pressures. We were excited that we'd be able to do more things together, that date nights would be more than fast food and trying to have sex without the kids hearing.
We were still so much in love, and I'm glad we said all the words so that we knew how each other felt. Every night I held her hand and told her I'd love her forever, and she said the same. We held hands all the time. Seeing couples hold hands now just makes me infinitely sad. Memories of birthdays past just stoke widow's fire.
Now it's just loneliness and sorrow. No one I can really share with, other than this sub and the fine people in it. I miss the connection I had with her, we could get through anything if we were together. We went through her cancer, having four kids, my injuries and subsequent illness, poverty. When I couldn't work, she turned her art hobby into a paying gig. She was the light of my life.
I never contemplated aging alone. It was, and remains, unfathomable to picture her gone. But it's the reality I have to deal with. Thanks for reading, and for all you share on this sub.
She loved to dance. I was, and remain, self-conscious about dancing. But occasionally I'd dance for her. Never managed it for anybody else, probably will not ever again. Sometimes I'd do a dorky dance to make her laugh as a comedy act, but that was a different animal. She loved dancing, and I loved her for it. She was beautiful and graceful, rhythm came naturally to her.
I play traditional music, mostly Irish, but a bunch of old-time and other trad styles. She got into it after going to a few Irish sessions with me. I bought her a fiddle she loved for her birthday after she learned the basics on my sister's old violin.
Today I heard a tune I'd heard before, but ir never really registered. The Bluemount Waltz. It shook me. This is one I would've played for her, and danced with her. She loved that, and I did not do it enough. Regrets, I got a few.
We played music together, now her fiddle gathers dust. I should play it in her honor, but it hurts too much. Shit, everything hurts anymore, doesn't it? No idea where I'm going with this, or why I'm posting. Just another hurt person missing their better half. Play something to honor them, if you want to. Dance like nobody is watching, because now, nobody is. Goddammit.
Just an FYI as a guy who got an Elf for Father's Day--It's nice, surprisingly big tone from a small harp. But an advantage to those of us with neighbors or cats that bite you for playing harp is that it can play very quietly. The small chambers react to just a little air.
If you're an apartment dweller or other player that needs a muted harp, this might be your answer. I missed the top two notes a couple of times, and tongue-blocking split octaves is a challenge for us fat-tongue folks, but overall well worth it. Plus, using it with the lanyard means it's always available to lay our a lick or two.
Seems a little ominous. Their projection about bullying is almost sad, several have combed through my past posts to mock the death of my wife.
This doesn't speak well for our species.
After JD Vance's historic bout of rabies, the White and Brown House has designated a memorial tribute to JD Vance, to be held in the Reflecting Pool. In lieu of flowers, please make donations to "Michael Scott's Race For The Cure."
Meet Bob and my psychotic rescue shihtzu. While all my other crow bros get the food I distribute and eat it or fly off with it, Bob follows me around, landing on objects. Car roofs are his favorite , which has irritated my neighbor. Bob cocks his head when I talk to him, and makes odd noises, from a gutteral noise to a chirring sound. I don't know if he's just curious or plotting something, but either is cool. If I don't notice him and offer food, he'll swoop in and tick my hat. Cheeky bastard, but I like him.
Like so many of us, I got hit by widow's fire pretty bad right after my wife died. Then, a bit later, it died off. I was so pleased with myself, I told myself I had mastered one aspect of being a widower. A veritable venerable monk. Then a doctor's appointment and an increase in thyroid medication. The illusion was nice while it lasted.
The horse has a robotic version of epilepsy. The dude eventually falls for a witch that's stalking him.
I won't be getting up early to make her French toast and eggs. I won't be giving her the gift I bought despite her protestations. We won't talk about our four adult kids. She's just gone. It sucks. Cheers to all you widowed moms, and widows who wanted to be moms, and couples that were happy childless. All of us in a club nobody wants to be in, but alas, here we are.