I�m goin� away baby, �

This is the eve of my departure for a week of husband ornamentation in Toronto. My beloved has a premiere by the TSO on Wednesday night and Thursday afternoon, a composition which he based on Jimi Hendrix�s song Machine Gun (you know, the snare drum motive) and which he calls a �protest� piece. It is only 10 minutes long, thus fulfilling the Can-con requirement for orchestras in this country. Sad, isn�t it? He is required to be at rehearsals starting tomorrow evening; hence our early departure. We�ll also stop in Clarendon on our way so Oskar can do a repair job to the new archtop (Hubby wants to move the tone knob, which gets in the way), leaving it there and picking it up again on Friday on our trip homewards. In the meantime, we�ll be at my mom�s, if anyone wants to reach us there.

So, with a view to making sure that my wee bambini are clothed and fed during our absence, I did laundry, made bread and bought groceries, stocking up on things they can cook on top of the stove since the oven is unusable at the moment, unless they want to broil things. The lasagne in the barbecue turned out fine, but I don�t want them using it lest they cause an explosion. Besides, they would only probably want to make pizza, and the barbecue is not a great place for doing that. I�ve tried it already.

I taught three more students today, starting the first two songs of Quatre P0�mes de GuiIIaume Ap0llinaire by P0ulenc with my recital student, teaching my soprano-turned-alto how to make a larger, warmer and more focused sound in her lower register, and trying to get another soprano who is really a clarinettist to open her mouth and raise her soft palate so she can sing the high As in the Haydn without being flat and squeaking horribly. That one is a challenge.

Now rice is cooking, tofu is marinating, laundry is drying, and I will put another loaf�s worth of ingredients in the bread machine. After supper I must complete my Latin take-home test (which I will drop off to Pat on the way out of town tomorrow morning along with my verb synopses), pack my grip, and make my getaway.

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