This evening I went to a concert with Dan and my piano teacher, Mrs. R from 7th grade. Typically, I go to these concerts with my aunt and Mrs R. But tonight, Aunt was under the weather, so Dan got to go. It was a wonderful concert, played by the Boulder Philharmonic. I am not in the least bit musically inclined, but love to just listen to the music, get lost in my thoughts, and be somewhere else for the two hours. My mind wanders from the images of idyllic settings that the music describes, to situations I've been pondering all week, to what color to paint the bedroom. It's daydreaming to live background music, with the music leading me. In the car on the way home, I'm a bit intimidated when Dan and Mrs. R -- both "real musicians" -- discuss keys and movements and I don't know what all. They know better than to ask me my opinion, but look at one another quizzically when I announce I've decided on Mint Truffle for the bedroom.
That elusive Mother of the Year Award has once more slipped out of my grasp. On Friday night, Emily and I went to watch Joe in a fencing competition. It was double elimination, and we missed the first match because we went to get our dinner, not realizing he would be up to fence right away. He assured us everything was fine, he lost but had at least one more match to go. So, as the second round began, we noted he was 5th or 6th to compete. And, of course, Emily in typical fashion had to go to the bathroom. I pulled the Alyson Janey of the year. When we returned to the arena, we were informed Joe had already competed (and lost again, darn it.) But the WORST part was his disappointment because at the beginning of the match, the fencers turn to the lady they are "fighting for" and tip their epees to her -- and when he turned to honor ME, I was in the BATHROOM! I felt terrible!