R-O-C-K In The USA. (Alternately Entitled: The Sopping Wet Reed On The Clarinet Makes Me Gag.)

I just have some randomness tonight.

But then… When DON’T I have utter randomness?

1.  I am actually writing this blog post early today, because I have a band concert this evening.  Or rather, THE BOY has a band concert, and I am playing three songs in it.  I was supposed to play four songs, but I procrastinated and never learned the fourth one.  I’m not overly worried, because I think if I just PRETEND to play the clarinet by moving my fingers around an awful lot, the audience won’t really notice.

Also?  I’m afraid that I’ll probably steal the show away from the kids this evening, so just pray that they all shine brighter than I do.  I told Hubs that I’m quite certain I’ll be swarmed by Beethoven’s and Jimmy Buffet’s agents immediately following the concert, and that I’ll be asked to sign contracts pledging myself to be in professional bands.  When I mentioned this to Sister, she told me to prep myself for moving, because professional band members live in the city.  I know this, so I may have to decline all the offers, because driving on six-lane interstates makes me need wine.

But not while I’m driving.  I need the wine AFTER all the driving, and after I’ve survived lane changes and THIS IS NOT THE EXIT I WANT and people waving sign language at me, encouraging me to just drive a little faster, please.

The cities do have nice shopping malls, though, so that’s a plus.  However, if I can’t buy it on Amazon and have it shipped to my front door, it probably doesn’t exist in the stores anyway.

2.  The boy has a solo performance in his concert tonight, because the boy is very musical.  He can play the piano better than Mozart ever did, and he actually tells me, “Mom, you’re not playing G right now with my clarinet; you’re playing C.”  I get very confused on Gs and Cs.  And also all the other letters that represent actual notes.

Hubs and I have no idea WHERE the boy inherited his musical talent, because it wasn’t from us.  Our combined DNA offered him a heritage of wrestling and softball, and he didn’t pick up either one of those things.  Hubs played the trumpet in high school, and he was actually excused from class one day for blowing Boxelder bugs out of it.  I played the violin, but I never learned the notes on paper, which makes working your way up to First Chair, with visions of Carnegie Hall on your horizon, basically impossible.

3.  We slept with the windows open last night.  And also the furnace has been shut down.  Hubs made the comment that he has officially extinguished the furnace and all of its blessed heating capabilities until next November.  This would be fine, if our furnace was in Florida or Texas.  We still have permafrost on the ground here, and the Yetis are still wearing their North Face coats.  Hubs also opened the windows in the house before he went to bed, to let in a little fresh air.  I won’t lie; it felt fabulous to have that gentle evening breeze blowing through our home.  I felt blessed that Spring had finally arrived.  I slept like the dead last night, and when I got out of bed at 6:00 this morning, I realized that it was snowing indoors.  The cats had icicles hanging from their whiskers.  The floors were frozen, and we all got frostbite on our bare feet.

It was 62 entire degrees in our house this morning.  Yes, it was a bit brisk.

I’ve suggested to Hubs that he may need to rethink this whole SHUT DOWN THE FURNACE TO SAVE A BUCK routine because no one on the runways is sporting blue lips this season.  He told me that real men can sleep on the ground on the polar ice cap.  That may be, but until the Robertson men do it, it hasn’t been proven.

4.  We’ve hired a new housekeeper.  He doesn’t speak much English, and I’m fairly certain he’s the one pilfering dry Cheerios out of our pantry.  He also doesn’t vacuum as well as I’d like to see my housekeeper do, but I think we’ll keep him on at a reduced rate.

IMG_4058 IMG_40595.  That’s about it for tonight.  I’ve got to roll my hair around the hot rollers, so that my mane is at its Concert Best tonight.  I also have to dig out my WOW!  THEY LOOK SO REAL! strand of pearls to wear.  All good musicians have pearls.

Or faux pearls.  Or whatever.

I fully expect to rock “Mary Had a Little Lamb” tonight, if I can keep the C and the G straight.  The clarinet is not for the weak.  With any luck at all, I will survive the concert tonight and be back here on Sunday evening to tell y’all about it.

Have a fantastic weekend, people.  Stay warm.  We’ll be wearing our sweatshirts to bed.

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