About nothing much on a hot evening.
It was hot and dirty in Paris, but eating dinner on a sidewalk outside a cafe (to escape the stifling air inside) or sitting by the window in my flat, near the fan, listening to the neighbors who were all doing the same thing, that had quite a bit of charm.
On the other hand, back home here in Chapel Hill there is no charm. It's August, it's hot and steamy-humid, and we're all sealed up away from each other. We don't go outside unless we have to - then we shift resentfully from air-conditioned house to air-conditioned car to air-conditioned mall and back again. The only time I left the house today was to go down to the elliptical trainer in the studio; on the same expedition there was the excitement of shooting waspkilling-spray into the thriving nest over my front door ... and you wonder why I haven't been writing?
Jim and Ken were here to rehearse for a wedding we're doing tomorrow. The bride asked for variety, so she's getting (for instance) Greek songs and tunes, Twist and Shout, Siete Modos De Guisar Las Berejenas [that's a Sephardic song, "Seven Ways to Cook Eggplant," my current favorite], Papir Iz Dokh Vays [that's Yiddish, Paper Is White, and I learned in Yiddish class at the Medem that Dokh is the equivalent of "well, duh"], Long Tall Sally, and Parisian musettes.
I came back from Paris with yet another silent hobby - I have a letter, about 25 pages of Yiddish, which I'm translating for a friend. I use three dictionaries and a magnifying glass. It's endless.
Zed asked me to water his Manly Zone of Agriculture while he's in Canada, but I don't want to go out there under the sun for any reason at all.
Besides, I'm afraid of the Zone; while he wasn't paying attention it got wild and scraggly. He planted everything close together - that looked nice at the time, but weeks later the peppers are growing up straight through the tomatoes, and the chair he put near the Zone - so he could sit in front of his produce and contemplate it every day - well, that chair has been swallowed up by cucumber vines. Zed vacated for a few days and look what happened. And there are too many vegetables. I might have a nightmare about those giant cucumbers.
Mainly I'm recuperating from jet lag and collecting the music I'll take up to Village Harmony Camp next week (see yellow box in sidebar). Last year I spent one week in a retreat center rehearsing and then two weeks on the road with two adults and two dozen teenagers - driving in a huge hippy bus every day, having a potluck supper and singing/directing a performance in a different (tiny, un-air-conditioned) church every evening and staying with a different family every night. This year will be easier - all adults, all staying in one place, with somebody cooking for us. Luxury!
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