Alliteration at large.

What do Canadians talk about? What do we have more of than anyone else in the world? Why, the weather, of course! The past couple of days have been warmer than seasonal, perfect maple syrup temperatures in fact. My Latin buddy has been busy every weekend working at his parents� cabane sugaring off, producing a plethora of Grades A and B filled cans of syrupy goodness. I must remember to order some from him. Even this morning I left for school wearing my spring coat, the red one that I bought at the Duchess� urging four or five years ago. By the time I left the university after I had had enough of choir practice, it had started to snow, gritty flakes (not really flakes at all) that remind me a bit of a cross between ash and sleet: dry but granular. It�s become quite cold now. The river, frozen over for once, melted with the sun and ensuing rain, and is now higher than normal with the broken ice pushed to the sides while the faster flowing effluvium rushes towards the St. Lawrence.

I bashed my left index-finger knuckle into a door today as I hurried to my office to get my book of 24 Italian greatest hits (any student of singing knows what I�m talking about) while my student waited patiently in the studio. I returned with blood dripping from the joint and it is now very sore and sensitive. It is also in one of those exposed places which seems to always be bashing into protruberances, and it has already started bleeding a couple of times since initially being stanched.

This morning Fannie Piano and I rehearsed the aria from La Wally that I am performing on the choir concert. It is going to be brilliant. Everyone is going to dissolve into a dew. With that in mind, I will leave you with a picture of me taken by some people we met on our trip, singing into the karaoke microphone at the piano bar.

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