Elgan speaks
...and her words thunder across the land

It�s that time of year.

Monday, Nov. 29, 2004
8:13 a.m.
I have been remiss in missing yesterday. I sat at the computer plenty, but updating was not an option. Instead I spent entirely too much time talking to strangers and neglected those things which needed to be done around here, including studying for tomorrow�s Latin test: noun declensions this time. As well, Hubby is inviting the entire chamber orchestra home for a party on Wednesday night after the concert, and the house, as usual, is a pig sty. All it is lacking are the pigs. Wait, I have teenagers. Hmmmm.

Aside from all that, I did manage to make it out for yet another recital last night, this time two students sharing the stage: a flutist and a soprano (who was actually my student for one year three years ago but was one of those swayed by evil forces to leave me and went to study with the other teacher [a very nice and competent woman whom I like very much personally and admire immensely professionally] who has confided in me that she has had no luck getting this girl to show much improvement any more than I did).

The flutist started off the programme and did a very fine job. She�s only in second year and yet already displays great talent and skill on her instrument. She wore a beautiful gown and looked like a million bucks. The soprano actually requested that this half-recital be juried, since she is going on exchange next semester to parts south-east (very south, very east). She sang sweetly, has lovely high notes and a very pure, almost �childish� sound, but one gets tired of that after a while. There was no depth to her performance, she displayed no facial expression whatsoever, and had plastered on so much makeup (including black false eyelashes which did not fit with her natural Irish red-haired complexion) that I would not have recognized her had I met her in a public place. Singers are weird, what can I say?

I watched The Simps0ns with Hubby when I got home, one of the strangest episodes we have ever seen, no doubt prompted by America�s marginalizing of anyone who questions its involvement in �foreign affairs�. We both looked at each other often with raised eyebrows.

Today I must memorize declensions and tonight there is going to be a long, hard choir rehearsal. As I was leaving last night, the stage was filled with percussion instruments and electric bass and guitar, as well as the grand piano, rehearsing the accompaniment for the Fanshawe. It was loud. At least the conductor expressed his fears that the choir would not be heard over them. The �assistant� director was reassuring someone else within earshot that the percussion does not play while the choir is singing, so perhaps his fears are groundless. We can only hope.

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