Trees, trees, trees
10:09 p.m.
I had already started looking at one of the solos, a real killer with a musical indication of �operatic� which I figured no one else in the choir could do, and I told Herr Doktor Professor that I was ready and willing to do it if he should so desire. It turns out that the �assistant director� will be singing that particular solo, and while I would rather it were her than me (it�s a bitch, seriously folks), I also don�t think she is capable of doing it justice. She�s the girl with the sweet, silvery, early-music voice, the perfect choir voice. She�s not a soloist, and she�s definitely not �operatic�. But I held my tongue, and said I would look at a couple of other solos he had me in mind for which he deems unsingable by anyone else in the vicinity, mainly because I have to wail over the rest of the choir. I can do this.
Okay, that was the catty soprano part of the entry. The next part is another picture, this time of my sister-in-law and me walking along the bike path. As you can see, the ground is littered with fallen leaves, and she is totally taken with the fall display, although it doesn�t show up so well in the picture because you see mostly pines and spruces. But she was truly gawking like a tourist. Well, she was a tourist.
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