Brigadoonity

I experienced a hint of the lost, ever-sought Pinewoods/Swarthmore atmosphere, that comfortable sense of being just outside the world's jurisdiction, at dance tonight. It was a musically successful night, with four musicians in the band and a well-received Dave Wiesler set for Katie's Dance. Although (or perhaps because) the sets I put together were slightly too difficult for the amount of practice we had time for, there was quality camaraderie on stage. Cello-girl had the most difficulty with the tunes—her bow is too heavy to keep up with the fiddle on melody, but she doesn't want to limit herself to a drone—but I felt like we bonded a bit more than we had, and I got to be Comforting Guy when she thought she'd played badly. That's pleasing, since she's got puppy-eyes for our second guitarist, and I'd been worried that I'd feel jealous and excluded. (No, of course there's no romantic intent there, but if someone is basking in the warm glow of a schoolgirl crush I'd just as soon it be me.)

Additionally, Britta (the wry, cute, geeky grad student) finally returned to class. We engaged in a minor tickle-fight. It's good to find a small oasis of flirtation in the Ann Arbor desert, though I wish we had more-than-weekly opportunities to hang out.

I had fun with the kidlets, too. Young Katie, who is perhaps eight, pestered me throughout the third hour: "Chase me! Chase me after this dance! You can't catch me!" So I finally got up and tore after her at the end of the night, making scary troll-noises...and of course she immediately ran into a table and fell flat on her face. She was fine, but blamed me for her mishap. "You're weren't supposed to chase me suddenly," she said.

I learned, too, that having a small child stand on your calves while you are kneeling makes it quite difficult to stand up. Even if she is no more than four.

It was quite a good night. To add icing to the cake, I thought I was going to have to change the marquee tonight—in the rain—but apparently we're not getting Triplets of Belleville until Wednesday. That means all I need to worry about tonight is making a sandwich, opening a bottle of small-label maple cream soda, and watching Survivor. Mmm.

A crocus awoke us

The first patch of color has appeared in our yard: a few lightning-blue crocuses have pushed up through the ground, just beside the brick edging of our neighbors' garden. They are doomed, since the current 60-degree weather is due to be supplanted by snow tomorrow, but it's a reminder that spring is coming.

I discovered last night that maple cream soda tastes pretty much like carbonated syrup. Not in a bad way; this brand, at least, contains real maple syrup, and I like real maple syrup. I believe it was Sarah's Maple Cream Soda, and it was the first bottle I've encountered in a long time that required an opener.

Someone on Usenet recommended a pinky-strengthening exercise that seems to work well: fret the first string at the third fret with my index finger, and at the fourth fret with my pinky, then walk my fingers from string to string across the neck. After five minutes I felt the rubber-band-like muscles in my pinky start to burn, so I can only assume they're becoming stronger. I spent some time today working on that and other exercises, and made a concerted effort to learn the tricky bit of Dave Wiesler's Screech Owl Reel. (The tricky bit is the last two bars, which have a sort of interlaced arpeggio: A-C-A, B-D-B, C-E-C, D-F-D.)

Work is nearly over, hooray. Kendra came to watch Fog of War tonight, which was lovely, but I was too preoccupied with locating the $120 that had gone missing to give her much attention. Nevertheless, I'm glad she was here. And soon: homeward, with my contraband salt.