I’ve got blisters on my toes!

My feet hurt. I’m tired. I want to go to bed, and I shall, momentarily. But first, if I don’t update now, I will just pack in this whole diary thing forever. I’m reminded of the scene in that movie called An Unmarried Woman where the artist refuses to go away with the unmarried woman because he is afraid that if he stops painting for a day, he will stop forever. I can relate.

Anyway, this entry really has to cover yesterday and last night as well as today. I got suckered in to copying and transposing a song for my daughter’s friend Ed (in all honestly, I actually volunteered) on the proviso that he buy me lunch, which he did, and then we hung out with some other music students eating pie on the porch of the Victorian museum enjoying the spring-like weather.

Buddy Boy called upon arriving at my mother’s, so I was relieved on that count.

Then I went out to a piano trio concert at the department, the last recital in the series, and was transported. They played Debussy and Brahms, and also a piece by Ge0rges Mig0t, a French composer who was very famous at the time of Debussy and his contemporaries, but has fallen into obscurity as so many of his colleagues have. The piece was very strange, sometimes beautiful, often fascinating, and definitely merits repeated listenings as so much was going on.

Afterwards I accompanied the trio back to their motel where we partied in the violinist’s room, drinking apple juice and Orangina, eating nuts, chips and chocolate bars, as the bar was too noisy and the dépanneur had stopped selling beer and wine after 11:00 p.m. I have known the violinist since 1990 when Hubby and I were visiting friends of ours in Bergen, Norway at the same time that she was visiting them. She and Hubby discovered that they had identical birthdays, and have been fast friends ever since.

Hubby called this morning to let me know that he was going to spend an extra day in San Ant0ni0 so TK could show him around the town and make up for the day lost in the corridors of O’Hare. This meant I was free to go to the formal this evening, which I did. ’Twas fun. Ed, who owes me, was my date, although he really wasn’t a very good date. He arrived late, wouldn’t dance and doesn’t drink. Instead I danced with other good-looking and willing young men, drank three concoctions with vodka (I was plenty sober when it was time to drive home) and took lots of pictures for Faceb00k. Yes, I’m on Faceb00k.

And now I really, really want to wash off my makeup and go to bed.

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