We were making bar talk about Bart�k.

It�s supposed to go up to 17�C today. Spring has definitely sprung. Yesterday I saw my neighbour raking her lawn, my neighbours being those people who live in the houses on my street whom I do not see from November to April because we are barricaded in our houses behind piles of snow. The spring weather brings them out in droves with rakes, shovels, trowels, and other implements of destruction, prepared to repair winter�s damage to lawns and gardens. I must also take up the evil rake and get rid of the crud left behind by the snowplow. Our lawn looks like sheet.

Last night we attended the last recital of the semester. Hubby�s guitar wizard performed a half-recital of the works of Leo Brouwer, followed by an extremely talented girl, only in second year, who played Beethoven�s Piano Concerto No. 1 in C Major with FG accompanying the first two movements and her teacher the third. Quite the undertaking, but very well executed. She was wearing a dress with spaghetti straps which kept slipping off her shoulders (never both at the same time) and which she kept pushing back up when she had a rest. Singers can wear dresses with spaghetti straps because we don�t actively use our arms when we are performing, but others must think about these things. A violinist friend of mine actually puts a small piece of scotch tape on each shoulder, thus anchoring the strap to her skin. This works until the stage lights hit it and the gleam gives away the trick.

Afterwards we adjourned to the Upstairs at The Lion, where I had a lively conversation with the young Mexican girl who is studying voice at the other university with the other teacher. She actually asked me if she could take lessons with me, and I had to explain that I would not teach her unless she was not concurrently studying with the other teacher, and I related the problems that arose last year when a certain blond soprano was teaching my student unbeknownst to me. I left all the vindictive stuff out of it; I just hope the acid didn�t creep into my voice or expression. So, while I would love to teach this girl, I know better. She�s very interested in ethno-musicology and is going to north-west Africa this summer to record drumming and dancing from native tribes. As the whole world becomes westernized, this particular ethnic expression is also endangered, and she feels it is important that she and her colleagues get it down on CD and DVD before it totally disappears. Shades of B�la Bart�k!

And now I must do laundry and get the horrid smell of smoke out of all the clothes I wore last night. Feh!

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