Wakuwacky day. The concerts are winding down or heating up. Our conductor accidentally flung his baton into the viola section and continued to conduct with a huge smile on his face. I'm sure that all the children were smiling as well at such a dramatic bit of flare, but due to an apparent school regulation, the emotions of their lower faces were hidden from view in an attempt to keep the germs at bay. As the white stage lights dimmed in a show of the lighting capabilities of the HPAC center, their masks glowed purple in the black light making perfect rows of ghosts throughout the whole hall. In the instrument demonstrations, the trumpet section started playing "Won't you be my Neighbor," from Mister Rogers and in answer to our unspoken question, "But where is Sean?" the stage door opened and Sean walked in playing the melody on his trumpet, wearing an orange cardigan. He took off his shoes and sweater, changing into his concert jacket. Only two more instrument demonstrations tomorrow. Only two more chances. Fridays have a tradition for being longer. What will happen?
Had another very impromtu jazz dinner tonight. When going on a trip, food needs to be eaten so it won't go bad, so Melkorka and I ate delicious cheese from Amsterdam, eggplant, sweet potato, and salad. And with the internet taking a bit of an unexpected and confusing yasumi (break) from working in my apartment, we extended our moveable feast to her apartment for dessert. Life tastes so good.
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