The years march inexorably onward.

It�s my mother�s 85th birthday today. She was born in 1919 and has seen a lot of changes over the years, many historical events unfolded during her lifetime and I figure she�s good for another ten years at least. She�s gone to visit my brother in Israel for the next three weeks, having left yesterday. It�s worrisome, her traveling afar at her age. When she came to see me in the fall she had forgotten her blood-pressure pills, which we were luckily able to replace because my across-the-street neighbour is a G.P. and wrote out a prescription for enough pills to tie her over. But in a foreign country, I just hope that she�s well supplied with her meds and that my brother doesn�t freak out if something happens.

Of course, when I tell people my mom has gone to Israel they freak out more because they think of her going to some war-torn hot spot and imagine little-old-lady guts all over the sidewalk from a bus or shopping-mall suicide bombing. Well, yes, that is a distinct possibility, but 7 million Israelis live with that kind of threat every day. However, more Israelis die every year from traffic fatalities than have been killed in all the military strife in their short history.

I am writing this from the part-time music tutors office, having taken a walk to get out of the house. Hubby is in the living room playing electric guitar and Buddy Boy is in the attic playing shooter games on the computer with his heavy metal blaring from his ghetto blaster. There is no recourse for a silence-loving, devoted wife and mother but to get out of the house on the pretext of going for a walk.

My student (the anarchist) has been screwed over in the matter of an accompanist for his jury. Admittedly, part of the problem is his fault, but part is not and I�m rather peeved. The student in question (let�s call him David) is a music minor and doesn�t hang out in the department much. He often misses Friday noon studio recitals where important announcements are made, for example, and doesn�t have regular friends here. He�s an education major, and I guess his buds lie elsewhere.

Anyway, at the beginning of the school year a list was posted with accompanists and the students for whom they were playing. David was matched up with CG. He did not call CG to arrange anything, since he was not required to do a November jury (1st-years are exempt), nor was he required to sing on any studio recitals. Around a month ago he left copies of his music and a note in CG�s box in the office, but never heard from the guy. About a week ago I pointed him out to David, since he didn�t even know who he was. When David approached him, CG said, �Oh no, I�m not playing for you, FG is!� So, David started phoning FG, leaving messages for her, etc. She never got back to him.

Yesterday, at the student recital, both CG and FG were accompanying, and David finally got a chance to talk to FG. She said, �It�s too late for me to learn your music, I can�t play for you.� David came back to me and said, �I�m screwed.� His jury is tomorrow. I told him to talk to the department chair, who was also there yesterday, and he said that if David didn�t mind singing his pieces without accompaniment, he didn�t mind listening to them.

Now, I admit that David left it kind of late to be arranging things with his accompanist, but he was signed up with one, shunted around to another without being informed, his calls weren�t returned, so what�s he going to do? I really feel sorry for the guy. He wants to continue taking lessons next fall, and I�m afraid he�s going to have the same problem. He�ll be enrolled in voice as a second instrument, since he isn�t a music major, and the performance requirements are minimal. Will he once more leave the arranging of practice sessions to the last minute? I hate to nag my students, but I guess I should be doing it more.

It occurs to me I am writing in my diary because I�m bored. There are a zillion things to do at home: cleaning, income taxes, mending, etc. and all I want to be doing is working in the sculpture studio on my lamia. But it is locked up tight as a drum and there�s no way I can get in there until tomorrow afternoon. I have decided that I will paint her copper. Black will show up the flaws too well, and gold and silver are too ostentatious. Let's hope the paint store is open tomorrow.

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