oboeinsight

I have mentioned many times that I’m an introvert and going to parties can be exhausting. So tonight I went to a party that included some colleagues and friends … and I had such a good time! Now parties should always be fun, yes? But sometimes they are more obligatory than anything else. For some reason I was more comfortable adn relaxed at this party … and the food and company were great. So I was so happy to go to this one and have a wonderful time! Yay!

Now I’m back home and Jameson (our 16 year old) and I are watching portions of the Sondheim boxed set I bought myself for Christmas from some Christmas money I received. (As any reader here knows, I’m quite a Sondheim fan. Some of my music pals really dislike anything that isn’t considered “classical” but I just don’t care; I like what I like. And I yam what I yam!) Bernadette Peters is singing right now. She came and sang with the San Jose Symphony (RIP) once and I thoroughly enjoyed her … she was extremely professional, very kind and gracious, and an incredible performer. Ahhh … it just brings back such great memories! I miss the days when we could have opera, classical and Broadway stars come in on occasion. Those days are over … forever? I wonder. —time lapse&mdash We’ve moved on to A Little Night Music and again I’m nostalgic … I played this with our local musical theatre company and I’d love to do it again. What a wonderful musical! (If you should decide it’s a musical … some would suggest opera instead.) Oh … Send In The Clowns … oh … my goodness I’m missing Sondheim. And now Sunday, from Sunday in the Park with George … if anything can bring me to tears this song can. (I think, though, that the second act needs some updating. Is it just me? I do wonder.)

I will be seeing Into the Woods on December 28th. A local company is putting it on and I hear very good things about the production. Can’t wait!
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Whew! I’m so tired. So VERY tired. I had difficulty even putting air through the English horn at some points at the 1:30 show. And I was reading one note and my fingers were deciding to play another. I had thought I’d get coffee before the show and I didn’t. That was a big mistake. My reeds are tired too. They want a day off … so hoorah for Monday! I was impressed that one parent took her child down to the pit and pointed to one of my instruments and said “That’s an English horn.” That’s rare to hear.

It’s a two Nutcracker day, and I’m home in between. I often go back and forth on whether it’s a good idea to come home. If I stay downtown I have to pay for dinner, and of course there’s no place to rest. I often get a nice dinner and I sometimes spend the time with a friend from the orchestra. This is good yet tiring. (As I’ve said, I’m an introvert—being sociable for so many hours is a killer.) But when I come home I often am not disciplined enough to rest so I end up cleaning. And of course the phone rings, and I check email, and I don’t really relax as i think I will.

But I’m home. And I’m sitting on the couch by our lovely decorated tree. I’m checking email, reading blogs, and writing this bit of drivvle. The TV is on. I’m not resting like I should.

Nothing new in pattyville.

I have never put my oboe/case on the roof of the car. Never. There’s good reason for this. But it can happen. It was nice to read the whole story; at least it wound up all okay. I have left my oboe at restaurants, but I’ve always run back in to find it waiting for me. (And those restaurant incidents happened years ago.)

I have seen a saxophone run over by a car (I was in the car but I was not the driver) and I’ve heard of a violin that was run over and survived; the owner had it in what must have been a nearly indestructible case.

This little tidbit has been brought to you by pattyramble, who is avoiding getting the house cleaned and whose husband and son are putting off getting the tree in the house for decorating.

I totally fell asleep the last time I was at The Nutcracker. I fell asleep for a whole section of the second act.

-An adult Nutcracker attendee at our performance last night. Overheard on my way to the car.
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This nearly made me cry. It’s Terry Teachout’s story of recent events in his life involving stress, a heart, and thoughts of death, to name a few tiny little things. It’s also about cream of wheat (which I’m craving at the moment), and things still to be heard and seen before one departs this dusty place. It really does make me want to cry. It’s well written, unlike most of what I put down here. (I would love to be a good and expressive writer, but I guess I’ll settle for oboe and English horn and leave it there. I am able to be very expressive on my instruments—it’s sort of my trait I suppose—but letting go in writing is extremely difficult for me. I’m not sure what that’s about.)

Anyway, Terry … if you read this … I am thinking of you and I loved what you wrote and of course I wish you well.

I think I’m weary. Nutcracker can do that to a person, for one thing. So can oboe reeds. And being cold. And life in general. Sometimes we just get tired. But I wonder, if I thought this was “it” … the end … would I suddenly not be so weary, thinking about the things I still want to do? Or would I be weary but unwilling to let go? I’m not sure.

I’m not sure this is proper for the oboe blog, either, but I’m not really writing at my other site much these days, and this seems more like “home” to me. So there you go.

I’m not actually physically ill, as Terry was, nor am I in any bad state of mind in case any readers are worrying about me now. I think we all go through these “weary windows of time” and mine is here now. (Not really a good time for it, but I don’t get to plan these out on the iCal.) I have another friend, and bassoonist extraordinaire (Hi Debbie! I continue to think of you and your family, and you have my prayers.), who has much more reason for weariness. But somehow that doesn’t matter … “my” weariness is here and it’s … well … it’s really tiring me out!

I spent the day with my son and the vocal jazz group he’s in. The group, Estetica, is a vocal jazz group of twelve and they are good. I mean that. I’m pretty picky and they always manage to please me (which should be everyone’s goal in life, of course). They sang The Little Drummer Boy which is usually a song I can live without. This time, though, they sang a new arrangement (done by their teacher Anne-Marie Katemopoulos), and … this may sound silly to some of you … when they got to the lyrics “Then he smiled at me” I was ready to sink to the floor in tears. Yes. I can get that way sometimes. But they were singing at a luncheon and it was crowded and noisy. Introverts find this sort of thing exhausting. I am an introvert.

But anyway, I’m in one of those moods where cream of wheat and music sound awfully good.

It’s about comfort. I want some.

I suspect I’ll settle for a nap though; Nutcracker will be calling soon and I had better be awake for it!

(And, thanks to Terry, I’m now going to have to read The Edge of Sadness.)
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It’s good to read that Terry Teachout’s getting better. I haven’t blogged about his illness, but I did wish him well and I’ve been keeping up with About Last Night as Our Girl In Chicago has kept all of their readers informed.

So anyway … best to you, Terry Teachout! I’m waiting for some blog entries, but I’m patient so take your time. ;-)
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