So yesterday evening was Anna's violin recital. Leading up to it was not fun, as for some reason, my body has decided to freak out and add more difficult painful things to my usual painful things; in this case, my legs are uneven, causing my right foot to roll out when I walk (which does *not* feel good, FYI), and one of the joints in my back is also out of whack. None of my tricks are working to improve the problems.
This fries my clams because, THIS IS THE BUSIEST WEEK OF THE YEAR, and in the words of 20th century prophet, Tommy Boy, "Not now, dammit!" I've tried so very hard to prepare, pace myself, take care of my body, but...this. So it was with concern I approached the recital where I would both be very uncomfortable trying to sit/lean, and especially, playing the piano, sitting upright.
The concert was weird. So few people--half the people there were the kid musicians. There were about 30 people in this huge Victorian church. Sigh. Then, one of four of the "advanced" kids who were to play in the opening group number (It's a solo recital with two group pieces) was late. So we waited, and started 10 minutes late. She called, and they were coming (and arrived half an hour late--dude, the parents are a doctor and a teacher, should not they, of all people, be on time to an event?). Then, Anna was scheduled at the end. LAME. I was nervous enough, and got progressively more uncomfortable as the time slowly ticked away.
The whole vibe of the concert was off. Eventually, we got to our number. Feeling ok. Then, I get up on stage, and immediately am discomfited as the HUGE piano is on a TINY pedestal thing. I've never seen the like. The main accompanist said, "Oh, move whatever you need to," which was good because for some odd reason, she had a bunch of hymnals stacked on the piano bench. So, I hand them down.
Then the "dead air seconds" started ticking in my head (I used to be a dj; dead air seconds feel like minutes when they're happening). This throws me off. Then, HOW do I get ON the bench? There was no room to walk and the bench was literally inches from the precipice. So I try to move the bench, and it starts to dive off. I grab it with one hand (the music was in my other hand) and gasp, "Help!" quietly to the other pianist who was right there. She helps. TICK, TICK, TICK. Then, I'm blinded. She has the sun in the form of a lamp on. I can't see. She asks, "Do you want this moved or off?" I say, "Please; I can't see!" She fumbles with it, get it to turn of. TICK, TICK, TICK... Several hours have passed by now. Anna's looking at me pleadingly from several feet away. So now with the sun off, I have floaters in my eyes. Awesome. TICK, TICK, TICK. I'm now a gray haired great-grandmother.
I finally smile weakly and say, "Ok, I'm good," while trying to look confident, and we start. It's going fine. I think, "Ok, good. It's fine." We have played this so many times. Then...it happens. First of all, you should know something odd, which you will find fantastic if you're a musician... I've been a musician for 35 years. I've accompanied people for oh, 27 of those? And I've NEVER had a major screw up in a performance. And I mean never. It's been a source of amusement and marvel for my musician husband and I. It's unheard of. I figured, in this ONE area of life, I was charmed.
Ok, so the ONE person, more than any other, I'd NOT want to disappoint and/or embarrass (my daughter) is the person I finally do an Icarus for. I LOST MY PLACE. And it's not that I half-assed it or anything like that. I just forgot a repeat. And this song SUCKS for accompanying. With my back, I only play once a year now (for Anna's spring recital). It is not a piece I can fudge. It's a myriad of accidentals (notes not in the key we're in), weird chords, etc. And it's five minutes long. Felt like five years long.
Blessedly, Anna has been trained by us (and her teacher) to keep going, no matter what. So she did. After I realized (TICK, TICK, TICK) I'd not be able to find where I was looking at my lines, I looked at hers until I found where she was. And so I did. But it took about 20 years off my life. My husband said it really wasn't long, but it felt like it to Anna and me. I finished strong. I don't think Anna and I did the usual bow. Somehow, I ended back at my seat, wanting nothing more than to leave and imbibe alcohol.
But, I knew it wasn't really about me; it was about her and her night. So I tried to laugh it off (after I apologized to her). Of course she was the angel she is and wasn't mad at me. My husband said he was relieved it finally happened (my blowing it). He said it's nice to see that I am human, after all, that it's hard to live up to me sometimes.
But, I felt like crap. The night was a disappointment. While three lovely friends were there (a family from church), a few special people who promised Anna they'd be there were not (and didn't tell us). She kept looking at the door all night. She was at the end of the program, so she kept hoping they'd arrive late. But, not. So it was not a red letter night for the Tallaricos.
Now, back to why you're probably here--my diet (heh). I had planned to have scarb at the reception, and at our traditional family trip to ice cream at the vaunted Elevated Ice Cream in town. But, as you know, I made a change some time ago where I don't eat when I'm upset. So I told Mark I wasn't going to have any scarb (simple carb). He said I should, as it was planned (and they had a nice table laid out), but I just didn't feel right about it. So I grabbed a bunch of grapes, and later at the ice cream store, had a cup of mint tea. And that was ok. I knew eating cookies and ice cream wouldn't be fun under the circumstances (beyond the basic lust). So I went scarb free, though I *was* hungry.
So I thought maybe I'd be rewarded and get into the Decade Below X today. But what was my reward? Nearly a pound gain. What a day. Today I'm in more pain, but am able to take it easy. Tomorrow I see my physical therapist, who will be able to get my spine back in the right place before this weekend pulls it out again. I feel a little beat up by life, but it's ok. There's always something to be grateful for. And I am.
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