![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(Subject line courtesy of a web page I came across while working.)
My apologies for being quiet—I've been maxing out my Google hours, in the interest of buying myself a sexy new camera before the sexy $100 rebate gets old and saggy and loses interest in me. I haven't quite settled on the Nikon Coolpix 8800, but it seems to do everything I want without exceeding my budget. The other chief contender is the Panasonic DMC-FZ20, which takes less pixelicious pictures (5 megapixels instead of 8) but costs a bit less and is supposed to be a bit zippier. It maintains f2.8 at the extreme of its zoom instead of opening the aperture, has a manual focus ring instead of buttons...hmm. Tricky.
But let's quickly recap the last week: on Thursday, K., since she was teaching, compelled me to her local Scottish dance class. They are a small and fragile group, mostly quite elderly, but lovely and welcoming. The enthusiasm level is not high—there was a lot of argument about who would get to sit out any given dance, and they fairly leaped on the opportunity to skip class next week. I overheard quite a bit of discussion of railway routes in the UK, because they were that sort of people. On our way home, K. and I saw an ad for a "poo tournament" at a local bar, which we decided to skip.
I played for another contra on Friday. It was lovely, and I engaged in more social chittering than I usually do, but we were not as tight as we sometimes are. I think Elvie was tired and/or distracted, and we (and thus the dancers) lost the thread of the melody sometimes. When we came together it was wonderful, but we didn't come together very often. There will be another this Friday, and perhaps it will be tighter. Musicians continue to ask me questions as though I know things, which is sort of pleasant. I got a few sidelong glances and tentative smiles from cute young cleavagey things, particularly pre-contra when I was wandering about playing Why Not Smile, but none of them followed me home.
That's unsurprising, of course, but a bit unfortunate, since a recent ex of mine has a new boy, and I've been having a spot of trouble dealing with that. She's been lovely and reassuring, but since Friday I've been a bit down about it. So that's that. (Tell me, again, when I get to grow up?)
Beyond that, I've been playing a lot of guitar, expanding my repertoire (more on that soon), glaring at the snow, watching movies. March marches on.
My apologies for being quiet—I've been maxing out my Google hours, in the interest of buying myself a sexy new camera before the sexy $100 rebate gets old and saggy and loses interest in me. I haven't quite settled on the Nikon Coolpix 8800, but it seems to do everything I want without exceeding my budget. The other chief contender is the Panasonic DMC-FZ20, which takes less pixelicious pictures (5 megapixels instead of 8) but costs a bit less and is supposed to be a bit zippier. It maintains f2.8 at the extreme of its zoom instead of opening the aperture, has a manual focus ring instead of buttons...hmm. Tricky.
But let's quickly recap the last week: on Thursday, K., since she was teaching, compelled me to her local Scottish dance class. They are a small and fragile group, mostly quite elderly, but lovely and welcoming. The enthusiasm level is not high—there was a lot of argument about who would get to sit out any given dance, and they fairly leaped on the opportunity to skip class next week. I overheard quite a bit of discussion of railway routes in the UK, because they were that sort of people. On our way home, K. and I saw an ad for a "poo tournament" at a local bar, which we decided to skip.
I played for another contra on Friday. It was lovely, and I engaged in more social chittering than I usually do, but we were not as tight as we sometimes are. I think Elvie was tired and/or distracted, and we (and thus the dancers) lost the thread of the melody sometimes. When we came together it was wonderful, but we didn't come together very often. There will be another this Friday, and perhaps it will be tighter. Musicians continue to ask me questions as though I know things, which is sort of pleasant. I got a few sidelong glances and tentative smiles from cute young cleavagey things, particularly pre-contra when I was wandering about playing Why Not Smile, but none of them followed me home.
That's unsurprising, of course, but a bit unfortunate, since a recent ex of mine has a new boy, and I've been having a spot of trouble dealing with that. She's been lovely and reassuring, but since Friday I've been a bit down about it. So that's that. (Tell me, again, when I get to grow up?)
Beyond that, I've been playing a lot of guitar, expanding my repertoire (more on that soon), glaring at the snow, watching movies. March marches on.
