I went out this morning to run a couple of errands before an interview at noon. One of those errands involved picking a parcel up at the post office, which I’d missed when delivery was attempted on Tuesday.
When I got home I checked the mail. Sitting there was a new parcel pick-up slip, for the delivery I’d missed while at the post office picking up the original parcel.
Sigh…
Happy Ash Day!
Yes, today marks the first day of the Celtic tree month of Ash.
“It feels more like my birthday today than it did on Monday,” HRH said when he woke me up this morning. “I’m in a great mood.”
That likely has more to do with the thought of cider and Brie than Ash Day, but it tickles him nonetheless.
“Soon to be a Major Motion Picture”
Why does this phrase even exist? It’s not like anyone would intentionally bill their film as a minor motion picure.
“Major disaster”
Isn’t every disaster major? That’s why it’s a disaster, and not a mishap.
Sigh.
Caught up in the editing nightmare and the race against the deadline, I managed to miss the second anniversary of Owls’ Court last Thursday February 12.
I must really have been fried to miss the hordes of tap-dancing owls wearing pointy party hats and blowing noisemakers.
When it it get to be two in the afternoon? Ten to two, to be perfectly specific?
I woke up at six this morning and decided that it was evidently fate. So I got up, appreciated the nice warm sun pouring in the front window for a few minutes, and began editing/writing this damn chapter right away. I think I’m finished. I want to walk away from it for a while, then go back and read it objectively as possible, to see if I can tell what I wrote from what the original author wrote. (I tried to imitate their style of writing. No point in showing them up, right?)
So I’m now going to go huddle under the afghan and a pile of cats with more hot herbal tea. I’ve been drinking bouillon and elderflower tea since I woke up, fighting this dratted cold. I’ve had the shivers even though I turned all the heaters on as high as they’ll go, have two sweaters on, socks and slippers, with the space heater pointed right at me. I did acknowledge before I fell asleep last night that playing the cello whilst in the throes of Early Cold is easier than singing, which I’ve done before as well. It’s less stressful on the throat.
Thanks to everyone for your support regarding yesterday’s concert. Ceri even gave me a generic-string-instrument-shaped box of delicious Mozartkugeln marzipan and hazelnut chocolates as a congratulatory gift, with apologies for not being able to find a Beethoven-themed one. (t! and Paze suggested drawing a scowl and messy hair on the picture of Mozart to make it more Beethoven-y.) Gifts always surprise me. I don’t mean to sound like HRH, but really, people coming to enjoy my concerts are more than enough of a gift for me. I didn’t even get to see my in-laws; I thought they’d rushed off because I’d been grumpy after last week’s concert, but HRH assured me that they just didn’t want to be in the way. Over three hundred people were at this concert; that’s a lot of folks milling about afterwards, so I can understand.
I had a terrific time with my parents afterwards as well. They took us back to their hotel room where they had a bottle of both red wine and white wine, Camembert, mushroom pate, and crackers. (My parents always travel in style.) Then we went out to an Italian restaurant that my family’s been going to as long as I can remember. It’s grown from a tiny one-room little house to a huge multi-room establishment, and they’re in the process of expanding yet again. The house wine, which I remember being nice, just wasn’t as good as my dad’s pinot noir. Apparently my taste is ruined now, and I’ve been hopelessly spoiled.
The new strings on the cello performed wonderfully. One always forgets how good new strings sound: fresh, rich, and mellow. I think it was one of the reasons I enjoyed playing the symphony so much in performance (apart from the fact that a live audience always boosts the quality); the sound issuing from the instrument was so much better than the dull sounds I’d been making up to that point.
Right. Hot tisane and cats, ho.
In a live rematch, it has been decided that Beethoven and I tied.
And I just might go back for the Bruckner after all.
Beethoven won.
The Ninth is going to sound fantastic. I don’t think I’m going back for the Bruckner Mass in F minor in May, though. I just can’t keep up; I’m not good enough. It’s been a terrific challenge, but I don’t have the time to devote to Cantabile as well as chamber orchestra. Besides, they’ve scheduled the four Bruckner rehearsals on Sunday afternoons yet again, and I’m tired of having to miss or skip out halfway through classes I’m supposed to be teaching.
I know I have a bad habit of underestimating my talents and skills, but last night’s rehearsal was embarrassing and depressing. The technical expertise required in the fourth and first movements are just beyond my current abilities. The entire section agrees that the technical challenge is above what they’re usually called on to do (and I can just imagine what Beethoven’s musicians must have said to him), but they still manage to pull off a significant percentage of the required work. I feel clumsy and klutzy, and I wonder what I’m actually contributing to the orchestra. Too often I lose my hold on what I’m doing and end up sitting there helplessly, trying to figure out where the heck we are, and where I can next come in with some sort of confidence.
There’s a difference between undervaluing yourself, and knowing that you’re just not quite good enough. If I had the luxury of time to really focus on working the music, I might stay on. With my schedule the way it is, however, I think it’s better all around if I focus my energies on chamber orchestra, teaching, and the slew of editing work.
I gave this a really good shot, and I’m proud of the fact that I did it. I adored the Puccini, and the Elgar was a bear but I mostly pulled that off too. I think back to how I felt when I joined chamber orchestra, and I stuck through that because my awkward playing was due to nerves and being tremendously shy. The technical challenges are different there (chamber vs symphonic!), and I do really well. I passed the nerves and new-girl shyness quite a while ago in Cantabile. I know I’m not where I ought to be in order to perform adequately.
It’s been fun, though. And the actual performance of the Ninth will be phenomenal, despite my fumblings.