Lots and lots of stuff happened this weekend. Lots. Not as in going-places sort of things, but as in Significant Decisions. And I am very proud and very supportive of everyone who went through the tough decision-making process and arrived at a conclusion that was right for them, if not comfortable or easy. You all know who you are. (And yes, I’m counted in there too.)
To otherwise generally recap the weekend:
Awesome band practice. I recorded much of the rehearsal using the minidisc, and wow. I now have an adaptor that may allow me to link it into the sound card, so I’ll be messing about with that and Audacity this afternoon.
Saturday night was the 2007 Capricornucopia extravagana, for which my darling Mousme wrote me a role that was not humungous nor expository in any way, and was in fact comedic. I adore Wodehousian comedy, and to be given lines such as “I am off to go look for a suitable frock in which to end my already frightfully brief existence” was absolutely delicious. Also, I got to scream on stage again. This looks suspiciously like a trend.
There is currently scads of snow coming down outside.
Actually, weren’t you offstage when you screamed? It was truly bloodcurdling.
We are also very proud and supportive of the folks who were affected by the Significant Decisions, all of whom were very calm and mature in taking what was some pretty sad news. I don’t think anyone expected moaning and wailing and how-could-yous but it is also nice that there wasn’t any (at least not at the ones I was there for).
Yay snow! I shovelled the front steps, went to the grocery store, and came home to discover it looked like I hadn’t shovelled the steps. Such is winter.
Standing with one foot on the stage, to be precise. In full view of the audience. Same diff. :P
Bloodcurdling? Thenk yew. There was goat, you know. In the study. It was the End Of The World.
It’s good when there are friends who don’t throw hissy fits when presented with unwelcome news, isn’t it? Maturity and understanding and affection are in such short supply in this world. We are blessed in that our friends possess a disproportionately large share of these.
I don’t want to look at my front steps. I shovelled them earlier, too. They’re likely in need of another shovelling, but if I don’t see it I can’t be sure. It’s like Shrodinger’s Snowy Steps.
I stare out at the snow from the library windows with increasing trepidation. I do not have to shovel, but I’m hoping that at least one of the janitors has made a tunnel to the parking lot so that we can leave.