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The Rest of The Week - The Lyorn's Den

Sun May. 23rd, 2010

06:57 pm - The Rest of The Week

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After the Wednesday post from work, I packed up and went to a performance with the choir. That one's a yearly concert that is sung by a bunch of choirs from the city, is set on the last Wednesday before Whit Sunday, and usually held in the park. I dislike it, because few if any of the choirs are really good, open-air does not make it better, it's either too warm or too cold, and if seating is to be had at all it is very uncomfortable.

This year the concert was moved to a hall in the theatre right next to the park. I bicycled there from work, wearing a shirt, a thin wool pullover, a cardigan, a large scarf, and a rain jacket and arrived half-soaked, teeth chattering, fingers pale blue-ish, and socks in the comfy fur-lined light boots damp. Yes, it was 6°C. Which is OK. For early March. I usually know how to dress for the weather, but the disconnect between weather and calendar got me.

Anyway, we gathered in the antehall, which was more inside than outside, if unheated, and had great acoustics. Did some warm-ups, then moved into the concert hall. Which had heating. And chairs. One is rarely aware of luxuries unless one has recently gone without them. I put on the new dark red top I had bought in March and as I had hoped it looked amazing.

I felt that most of the choirs hadn't really chosen their pieces to suit their voices, and all the mixed choirs had the women's voices drowning out the men's. (In your average mixed choir, there are three women for every man. That's the reason we are women-only.) After having been to the large festivals and seminars where we felt like some small town amateur soccer team having to play against Bayern München, it was strange to be among the best.

First on stage was an all-male singing club, who sang evergreens. Then a mixed choir with a romantinc repertoire (Schuhmann and Brahms, gods, I loathe Brahms), then one with (again) evergreens (that I know dirty filk songs for). A singing group of five young teens who also didn't get their high notes and were a lot better at their last piece (an evergreen) which was in alto range. (And, what was the conductor thinking to have the group sing a folk song in major scale and accompany it in minor?). Next choir, also mixed and quite large, had a clever selection of songs from movies and musicals, with a very good effort-to-effect ratio. Nice to hear. Next-to-last, evergreens again, while we were sneaking out to assemble backstage, where we danced very bad wannabe hula and stifled giggles.

Our song selection was pretty fool-proof: A filk on "Lollipop", ABBA's "Gimme Gimme Gimme" (that I know a B5 filk on), "When I Take My Sugar To Tea", and a slightly modified version of the Comedian Harmonists's "Laß mich dein Badewasser schlürfen" (So we have evergreens, too, but we filk them.)

Everything went sufficiently well, and we got off the stage quickly (part of our energetic image *g*), a final song was sung by all (I improvised the alto harmonies), and we were finally off to the pub and food!!! We fell on the small (but forewarned) pub like a plague of locusts, and I managed to splash half a litre of table water equally over myelf, the floor, the table, and the woman sitting next to me. Fortunately I had brought my towel with me.

Food was great, and we had fun. The woman who sat next to me wanted to know how I had lost so much weight, because she, 40-something and with four children that want four meals a day prepared for them, was gaining weight -- she is athletic, on the thin side, does not even know how to count calories, gods, I felt like being asked to deal crack to school children, said, "don't eat what's left on everyone's plate after they are finished, don't try to keep up with your twelve-year old when it comes to eating" (she does that), and "don't panic".

Thursday was another cold, rainy, miserable day where everything took forever. I went to the gym after work and it was a complete fail. There's "empty stomach", which is (for me) good for working out, and then there's "it's been nine hours since lunch and I'm shaky with low blood sugar", which isn't. After one round on the machines I felt that this was useless and went to Snow to watch the latest ep of Doctor Who. I___ was at Snow's place and told about trouble at work (the bad kind), Snow ranted about clueless users (the usual kind), and I felt hungry and a little embarrassed about most things in my life being mostly OK.

When I got home, it was midnight. Not too late, I decided, to throw some Turkish bread into the oven, a small steak into the pan, and a bunch of spicy vegetables into the microwave.

Friday I was dead tired, but the weather was a little better. Everything we had started at work on Thursday had failed, so I re-did all of it, which made for a so-so day: Get something from "Does-Not-Work" to "Works" is always at least marginally satisfying. In the evening we were playing RPG at my place. There is no other group where I have that many stupid dice rolls. I rolled three critial successes and four critical failures that evening and my character looked like a complete incompetent (which, at level four, he kind of is. My dear co-adventurers had entered him for the competetition to become High Druid without me knowing. Grrr.)

As Friday is my only "catch up on stuff at work and be home before ten" day in the week, even a once-a-month gaming group cuts badly into my schedules. Not to mention that there's no way in hell I'll be home at seven on an average Friday. Usually, I___ can let everyone in as she has a key, but when she has to work late, too, everyone has a problem. Sigh.

Anyway, I had reached Saturday without major mishaps, which I regard as a triumph. Making it through the week to the weekend is like completing a long hike through mountains and swamp, in the rain, just as dusk falls: You don't have an alternative to reaching your destination, or at least none that bears thinking about, but you are still amazed that you made it.

Saturday had brilliant weather. Sunny, and about 20 or 22°C. I slept in, went into town to shop for groceries, window-shop, hang out in the bookstore, have a coffee in a street cafe, these sorts of things. I skipped going to yoga/pilates class (again) because I did not feel up to it. Instead, I got home, fed the cats, put away the groceries and stumbled back into bed. Later I did the dishes, cooked dinner, read the newspaper, and that was it. Sunday continued in the same vein, without the shopping. I did a lot of washing. Where does all the washing come from? I remember doing one machine per week max, why am I never doing less then two these days? I blame going to the gym.

That I did on Sunday, and everything went quite well. Set two machines for higher resistance, upped the weight on one of the back exercises, and ran (well, did intervals of running/walking) not faster than ever before, but only a tiny bit slower, despite getting stitches in my side. (Which is why I stopped after one kilometre.)

What I didn't do was writing much. Gah.

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