The opera season is over.


But there's little time to reflect, as the season isn't over, and the music-making doesn't really stop. I'll spend 2 days in the recording studio this week helping VM, BC, Bmac and RK piece together Center Stage from WT, a nationally-syndicated radio program featuring the performances on our chamber music series. And I'll be back to visit the FC when the Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers is presented with live orchestra.

So this is really just a tiny hiatus that will be over in, oh, 13 hours.

*Sniff.* (For a totally different reason.)

It always takes me a few days to find my stride post-season...I feel like I was just starting to remember how to play Whack-A-Mole, and suddenly I find myself staring at a huge "Game OVER" sign with no quarters left in my pocket. I know I'm not alone - it's a hazard of project-based work. But I'm tired and mopey and infinitely nostalgic...a fine place to be if not a fine place to stay.

Speaking of nostalgia: I finally found a copy of this children's book. (GO, Amazon.com!) I remember reading a library copy from the Spaulding Library in Athens, PA about a million years ago. It's the story of a small village and its denizens, the Quanta. The village is also the home of a large, purply, violently-blooming flower called a Quantimonio, which is prized by a group of warring-types called the Sacripanti. Once they hear the distinctive "BOC" of a bloom, they storm in, take the flower and burn the surrounding area. In an effort to save the village AND the most recently bloomed Quantimonio, the villagers build a huge trap to capture the bad guys.

This is where Vanuk comes in.

Vanuk is the village idiot of sorts...he never says anything but "Vanuk!" And when the trap is finished, he's the poor guy who drops it on - you guessed it - the villagers, rather than the Sacripanti. As the bad guys advance on him, he says the only thing he knows - "Vanuk!"

Which turns out to be a shortened version of the worst thing that one could ever, ever say to the Sacripanti. They flee. Vanuk saves the day!

I love this book...the story is pretty predictable fare, sure, but the cartoons are filled with little snarky comments from villagers and farm animals. But moreso, I find myself at a loss for words so often that I adore a story that ends happily when one person says just the right thing.

And the craziest thing? My paternal grandmother's family name was Vanuk (Vnuk). So maybe that one thing that I can say is enough? Sometimes?

I'll take it as validation, as comfort.

My five:
  1. Long hours of dream-filled sleep.
  2. Getting back to a routine.
  3. Running errands on foot.
  4. Visiting with friends who knew me back when and still like me.
  5. Curling up on the porch on a steamy hot day.


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