Resignation
9:12 p.m.
Last night my daughter�s band came over for a meeting. When I asked her if she was going to serve them refreshments, she admitted that it had never occurred to her to do so, so I made brownies, leaving out the egg since we were out of eggs, and ending up with a panful of crumbs, delicious crumbs, but crumbs nonetheless, salvaging enough solid pieces to serve her guests. I�ll let you guess what became of the crumbs.
After they had finished discussing their business, I joined them for a bit, serving them hot drinks (I�m such a mom) and even making a sandwich for the drummer, who happens to be one of my voice students. I told him he was obligated now to show up at his lesson the next day on time, and he agreed. This is a lesson I rescheduled because he slept through the one he was supposed to have last week, an act of kindness since I�m not required to do that if he missed without a doctor�s note or even a good excuse. So today I was at the studio early enough to do my own vocal warm-up before he arrived, and then I waited. At 1:15 I saw Fannie and we chatted a bit, then I resumed practising on my own, and at 1:25 our prodigal charged into the studio, red in the face, breathing heavily, and mad as hell because he was once again late.
It turns out he awoke with his alarm at 9 a.m. and then promptly fell asleep again. He was dreaming that he was rollerblading frantically to get to his voice lesson on time when he awoke, looked at the clock and realized that he was late for his voice lesson. So I gave him a half-hour or so, and we spent a fair bit of that time on exercises to get him to unclench his throat. We also worked through the Schubert piece we started a few weeks ago.
Tonight Hubby handed in his resignation from the board of the new music ensemble we were both on. Actually, I handed in his resignation. He didn�t want to come to the meeting because he didn�t want any discussion and he didn�t want anyone trying to convince him that he should stay on. The guy who�s been running the show took many of the remarks in the letter personally (and so he should because it was his executive decisions which caused Hubby to decide he was superfluous and marginal in the whole operation), and I had a chat afterwards with another board member who agrees with many of the things Hubby was complaining about. But I noticed at the meeting that no one said anything. We are all too effing polite.
On the way there, though, I saw a man walking on the sidewalk carrying a large case of �light� beer (here in Canada we call that a �two-four�, in case none of you remembers Bob and Doug from SCTV). I wondered briefly if it was any less heavy on his shoulder than a two-four of regular beer.
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