About Me

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Five years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Everybody's a critic.

More specifically, the cat. After work I ran a couple of errands. One of which was to pick up a fresh tube of cork slick for my recorder, which I don't think I had touched since moving from Fort Worth, except to find a place for it in my studio.

I bought this one on eBay a few years ago. It got a little use at one time or another. I picked up some sheet music.

Last night I mostly did scales. I tried to pick out The Ash Grove, which is one of my favorite folk melodies. There really is no cork where my recorder comes together, just a band of a different kind of wood. So there were inadvertent octave jumps and all manner of weird blurts.

At one point I realized that the cat was singing counterpoint. Emphatically. I got up and let him out.

Humility. You find it in the oddest places.

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