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Four 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!

Thursday, January 30, 2014

Plan B, and I can't wait!

Ordinarily, I would be getting a massage tonight. But my massage therapist is recuperating from a drive-by germing. And I had been toying with the idea of rescheduling so that I might attend a concert built around an interesting premise.

World class guitarist. World class banjo player. World class fiddler. And some dude who plays bass viol that they are not embarrassed to be seen with. Probably world class in his own right. What I don't know about music and musicians is a fairly constant source of humility. Example: I learned this morning that there is such a thing as a cittern. Which autocorrect immediately turned into a cistern when I wisecracked on FB.

You might think this would teach me. You would be wrong.

Anyway, these dudes will be playing stuff from classical to Brubeck. My knitting and I will be there, rocking out. And even my hair is having a good day. I am so sassy that I almost can't stand it.

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