So we had opening night. I think the audience liked it, although of course I’m never certain. If it was all about the oboe I’d be annoyed; I missed one note. One note I shouldn’t have missed. One note that just ticks me off. (My husband, Dan, always reacts with “ONE note. Wow.” or some such thing. I KNOW it’s trivial to most folks, but one note, to me, is like that piece of corn silk you get caught in your teeth. It’s irksome. It’s aggravating. And it shouldn’t happen. ONE DARN NOTE!

And on my birthday, too. Now that’s just not fair!

But it is “have a bad day day” and I guess I was just proving that right! So maybe it was meant to be.

(Considering my belief system I actually do believe that it was “meant to be” … and yet that doesn’t make it any better for me so I still wallow a while.)

Anyway, it’s really NOT all about the oboe … even though maybe it should be … so oh well! Life goes on. I keep breathing. For now. Even though I’m 49. FORTYNINE. Whoa. Amazing!

My pit pals brought me gifts, which was just … well … heart warming, really! I’m astounded that they remember me. I’m honored, too. And very, very touched.

(“Yes,” I can hear you saying, “You ARE “touched”‘. Heh. See? I can hear even without a phone line or without anyone in the room. Could be I’m a bit crazy, eh? Hearing voices and all.)

So … back to what I was writing about (what WAS I writing about?!) …

The performance went well. Pam played the English horn solo beautifully! (It’s really the highlight of the opera, if you ask me. And you should ask me. Just because it’s my birthday. Okay?)

And then I got home and was greeted with some truffles and a nice glass of white wine. What a nice man my dear husband is!

Birthdays aren’t all that bad, you know? 🙂

HOWEVER … there is now a helicopter hovering overhead, searching for something. Do you suppose they are looking for the oboist who missed a note? I wonder.
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