Unable to discern that sound
After six weeks of directed listening, I have to assume that I am no longer capable of hearing the chorus of “ten billion butterfly sneezes” that so marked my youth. That was a Moody Blues reference, for the attentive among you. Seriously; after completion of an online course aimed at people involved in sound production, I have ro accept (with grace as charm, as always), the reality of my getting on in years. The high frequencies no longer register. The low frequencies no longer register. I am out of phase, unable to chorus, doomed to flanging.
Maybe the course was rigged. Maybe only those who have frequency sensors (instead of that anvil, hammer, stirrup mess that we were told about in science class) are ever able to “tell the difference”. The rest of us just drag our feet when we should be dancing to the beat. I can still hum, but does it matter? My ability to discern a 10% change in a delay line just isn’t there.
Moving right along. This was another gold day at the Games. Women on the curling rink. Women on the hockey rink. Bravo!
We decided to get into the leftovers, for supper. A variety of menu choices, all pre-tested and in need of a small thermal stimulation. The dog was fascinated by the process. Some day, I’m going to warm his kibble, and see if he is as enthusiastic. Paws on my toes. Paws on my knees. A nose in the critical zone, just in case of a gravity error. He’s got our habits figured out.
