The water is wide, I cannot get o�er�

I have just returned from an evening at the theatre, enjoying three short plays acted, directed and produced by drama students. They were very good, especially the last one, simply entitled This is a PIay by DanieI MacIv0r in which three actors speak their inner monologues as they go through the paces performing a play about lettuce, of all things. It was absolutely hilarious, especially as the lead male enters the stage saying, �I enter, resolutely. I can�t find my light.� Two of the drama profs were sitting behind me, laughing so hard I thought J0-j0 would split a gut.

Earlier in the day I met with one of our music students, a very fine flutist and extremely sweet young man, for lunch. We spent close to an hour and-a-half discussing this and that, the playing of chamber music, family falling-outs, and being vegetarian. This should have been followed by a coaching session of a former student who is trying out for the spring play, a cross music-drama production which entails the staging of TweIfth Night to the accompaniment of BeatIe songs. I checked my email however and learned that the poor thing was in abject pain with a cyst on her ovary and after seeing her at the play tonight we rescheduled for 11 a.m. tomorrow (don�t let me forget). So instead I played pinball, spider solitaire and freecell on the office computer and hung out in the lobby with some of the other students waiting for choir to happen, which it did.

And there you have it. However, Hubby told me when he got home that he had had a meeting with his colleague (the one who will not willingly say hello to either of us) in which they covered many things having to do with the running of the department, and my beloved brought up the business of how what happened before is in the past, and it is now up to this guy to put aside his animosity so we can get on with the business of having a good atmosphere again. He plainly refused to do so, saying he was not ready give up his grudge. It is a statement like that that convinces me of this guy�s immaturity--I don�t care how good a teacher he is or what kind of friends he makes in high places--he is simply not willing to let byegones be byegones, which means he has no place in a small department such as ours. When is he going to grow up already?

|

<~~~ * ~~~>