311/365 And still the fat lady sings

So today our refrigerator died, one cat chewed some green ribbon and vomited, and the other chose to relocate her litter box functions (without relocating the litter box), but I'd rather focus on the good of the day.

I'm working on some new repertoire. Faure, Schubert, Handel, Mozart, Bach and I have reunited. These are presents under the Christmas tree to me, but far, far better. It takes a long time to unwrap the treasure in these, first finding the notes in my voice, then learning the dynamics and tempi, translating and learning the pronunciation of the words, to then learning the character, the story, the emotion ... each new layer like the stacking babushka dolls, while dependent on the previous they become more precious as I go. I have a dozen of these presents to unwrap, and it will take me months of work to do so. What fun!

In keeping with the operatic theme, this evening we attended a delightful night of music and laughter with the JU opera program. Their double bill of Menotti/Puccini The Telephone and Gianni Schicchi were well-sung and performed. There was uproarious laughter in the intimacy of their studio theater setting, and even our first-time opera-goer teenager could see the joy in opera well-directed and well-staged.

295/365 DisHarmony

As if it weren't bad enough that I was presenting for the Lurch and Company Educational Trainings, but then they booked my travel on Air Tran (read: Air Ghett0). The seats are made of thin plastic with a material like the reusable grocery bag covering for comfort. Back of the bus, and it's an interesting adventure. So many flying virgins! In row 27 (of 29) I sat, wedged against the window. This was the last departure to home, so they held the flight for late connectors. Beside me was this pretty little thing, a black girl, about 20 years old, who was bubbly and enthusiastic. And a flying virgin. My head was against the wall and I wanted no part, but she tried to chat with me. Her breath was strawberry Twizzler. Then she discovered the armrest radio. Apparently there was an all-Beyonce station. I don't relate that detail because I was listening to the station. I was subjected to Pretty Little Thing's rendition of Beyonce. It was somewhere between the sound Hansel makes when I accidentally step on his tail, and the sound of the coffee grinder. I could only make out the song through the familiar lyrics. She was singing full volume and I was trapped.

272/365 The Home Conservatory

Complete with metronome, music stand, and a music library with yellowing pages of my college rep and the crisp new possibilities of her young vocal studies, this is becoming a favorite place in the house. We have a sofa for spectators (human and cat) plenty of natural light, and fabulous acoustics thanks to high ceilings and wood floor. Though, to be truthful, a cave would be beautiful when filled with the sound of my daughter singing. When she is on, there are angels in the room.

144/365 Another Audition

I guess this family should get used to this. Mom and Dad are a pair of recently-resurrected theater geeks. We fretted our own recent auditions, and experienced a remarkable success. The Drama Princess herself will be auditioning for entrance into the Musical Theater Program at her high school. This special audition requires that she prepare 16 bars of a show tune. She'll be ready. Working at home in pj's with a built-in accompanist and coach, we can gently reinforce the wisdom of her wonderful voice teacher. Then we recede into the background and fret and sweat with all the other parents.

40/365 The Young Musician's Queue

We're running out of room on the piano. Lesson books, vocal exercise books, anthologies of songs and arias, and music theory books crowd the space on the small ledge above the keys. All hold assignments and opportunities for our young musician. She's just beginning to glimpse her potential.