I was going to blog about how I got the yoke chart done on my sweater.
But, I didn’t. My job today was very slow; unfortunately, the job I used to do– the job I shared with my coworker Teresa, who now does it by herself– was extremely busy. So busy, in fact, that after I offered to help a bit in the morning “to take the edge off”, she basically required my help all day long. This would have been fine, except that… well. I hate my old job. And this morning my boss came up and said that because Teresa has to back me up on my job when I am gone, for the next few weeks T and I will be switching off doing my job and her job.
So, I didn’t get the yoke done. I am, in fact, on row 19. I only got half a row done at work, the rest was just now, at home. I’d take a photo but it doesn’t look any different.
I was going to blog about the dinner I made, but I didn’t make dinner. Cory ended up having dinner with his dad out by their work (they work together, while Cory is in school) so I made a sandwich for myself. Hardly impressive.
I was going to blog about going grocery shopping, or maybe going to target to look for work clothes, but then I didn’t do either, because Cory got home at 8 and neither of us felt like going out.
So, instead I’ll blog about the one thing I didn’t mention yesterday, that actually happened over the course of yesterday and today.
Some of you might not know that I am a violinist. Well, I should say, I WAS a violinist. Now I am someone who owns a violin, and occasionally takes it out for a bit, but not often enough to really take good care of it. This is for two reasons… one, I played harp in college, so I was focused on that, and two, my bow was in sad, pathetic shape. I had used it up, pretty much. The horsehair was nearly gone; the wire-wrapping had totally come off; the stick’s varnish was peeling in places…. it was just dead. For the occasional gig I had borrowed my sister’s (equally ancient) old bow that actually had hair, but it wasn’t much of an improvement as the hair was worn so smooth that it wouldn’t hold rosin.
Enter my Great-Uncle Maury. I haven’t had a whole lot of contact with my Great-Uncle, but I do remember he always loved to hear my sister and I play our violins. We would bring them up to Grandpa and Grandma’s and, when Maury would come over, we’d play. Even just practice in front of him. He just loved to hear the music.
He called my mother the other day, and in their conversation they talked about my sister, who still plays her violin very often, and does pit orchestra in musicals and even has some violin students. My Uncle asked if I still played, and my mom explained about my bow. My very generous Uncle decided to take it upon himself to buy me a new one, so that I could play again.
I actually surprised myself with how excited I got (and still am) about this. Honestly, I’ve always thought of myself as a harpist, maybe a cellist, at heart– not a violinist. I played violin because that’s what my mom and her friend, a violin teacher, started me with, not because it’s what I chose to play. But really, I just like to play music, and after some-teen years with a violin in my hands, I felt kind of strange without it. I am ready to play again.
He’s sending the check tomorrow, and I’m ordering the bow the moment I deposit the money. So if, after it comes, you don’t hear from me for a while…
I’m probably playing my violin.