Hello, world. I’m not dead, just really, really exhausted. See, having fibro = feeling like you have the flu all the time. So when I have the flu? Extra-bad, and extra-long to recover, and I never really feel like I fully get there.

And now the boy is sick, and HRH is iffy, no one is sleeping properly, and can we just fast-forward to where we’re well again, please? The boy had to cancel out on a much-anticipated birthday party this morning, and HRH and I have had to cancel on a different long-awaited multiple-person birthday extravaganza tonight. We are none of us amused.

I did manage to drag myself out for a rescheduled cello lesson this morning, because I was going stir crazy at home and I needed the discipline. We decided to play the Lee duet sonata for the concert in April, about which I am very very pleased. It feels good to reply with an immediate and enthusiastic “Yes!” when one’s teacher asks if you’d be interested in playing the piece you just started working on for a recital.

So yes, going wiped out my day’s spoons (what there were to begin with) but it was worth it. I played both my own cello and the 7/8 on trial yesterday for a total of about two hours, and it is increasingly obvious that simply finding a 7/8 that sounds equivalent to my cello is going to be a huge obstacle. When I switch between them I can very certainly feel the difference in body size, but I can also feel the klutzyness of the 7/8s sound- and response-wise. It is repeatedly being demonstrated to me that my cello is indeed a very excellent cello.

Something I’ve really noticed in this revisiting-old-stuff-I-worked-on-twelve-years-ago is that these easy pieces really point out where my technique has eroded away. On top of that I’m trying to unlearn certain techniques that were taught to me (lead the bow hand with the wrist, the bye-bye movement to switch between adjacent strings during a quick passage) for more ergonomic and efficient applications. It means a good portion of my lessons are taken up by working on minute things, like today where we spent a good ten minutes on the tiny motion of the right elbow backwards to roll between the A and D strings. After fifteen years of doing that motion with a flick of my right hand and nothing else, it’s hard to shed the habit and focus on doing the new movement instead. And at one point I was trying to incorporate three things we’d worked on in the lesson (a different way of approaching a half-shift to extended second position with the left hand, placing the fourth finger on the G two notes before it had to be there, and the right elbow-only backwards movement for the string crossing, all in a passage of four sixteenth notes) and my brain just about exploded. Learning it new would have been enough of a challenge. Trying to ignore the ingrained habits of a decade and a half while applying the new technique and trying to sound good at the same time? All three things on top of one another? While I’m still not operating at 100%? Let’s just say it didn’t work so well. The good thing is my teacher knows exactly how hard it is to rewire these sorts of things because she did it herself (her original training and my first teacher’s technique seem very similar), and understands that planting the seed during the lesson is only the beginning, while setting exercises to work on the new technique during home practise are what develop it. And it’s not like we hit all three things at once; we did them separately and they all showed up in that single four-note passage. She also understands that I need a balance of description and actual physical this-is-what-it-feels-like, so she often has me relax and moves my bow arm in the motion it needs to take. I close my eyes a lot during lessons to feel what the movement or sounds is supposed to be like.

I’ve rambled enough. I’m having trouble breathing, so I think it’s time for some hot tea with lemon and honey.