Many thanks to those brave souls who left comments on my previous post (or long-winded confession). I've sobered up since I wrote it. I think.
A little birdie told me that today is the first day of spring. I suppose I should don a toga, run outside, and do an interpretive Spring Dance (alla Isadora Duncan) in a field of daffodils.
Unfortunately, it's cold, rainy, and there isn't a daffodil in sight. A few days ago it was sunny, the temperature was 70 degrees, and my spirits were soaring. Mother Nature must have noticed my mirth and decided to give me one final blast of winter.
I spent this first gloomy day of spring inside, wearing an extra sweater, in the company of several consecutive hot cups of tea.
Actually, it was a lousy day. This morning my laptop computer was infected with a demon virus. I should have called an exorcist, but instead I battled the Evil Entity on my own - with the help of Avast and System Restore.
This afternoon, while attempting to make an early dinner, I accidentally left a pot of stuffing on the stove and it burned to a crisp. In fact it burned beyond a crisp. The smell was so bad that I had to open all the doors and windows. The fresh air did little to alleviate the thick smokey odor. Now the house is cold and it still stinks.
Welcome to spring!
In honor of this new season, I've decided to subject you to my interpretation of Rustle of Spring by the Norwegian composer Christian Sinding (1856-1941).
Some of you have been seen this video before. I'm posting it again just for those of you who haven't seen it.
This an old, poor quality rehearsal video that I made when I had a music studio in San Angelo. I simply propped an El Cheapo camcorder up on a bookcase while I was practicing. It was nearly 110 degrees that summer day (no lie) and I was sweltering in the Texas heat.
This video was made at least 25 years after I was a musician in California - maybe more - and I was completely out of practice (musically speaking, of course).