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Eleven years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Retired, and mostly enjoying it. Still knitting. [Zen]tangling.again after a brief hiatus.

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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