down time

I’ve been away from the blog for a while.

One day I’m blogging my chipped fingernails to the quick. The next day…week…month...BAM... I’m sick.

Sick people don’t care one whit about fashion, blogs, amusement parks, horned toads, changing seasons or wiener dogs. OK..maybe they still care about dogs, but not much else.

thermometer

I’ll spare you all the feverish details and the ensuing poking, prodding and radiating of the ol’ bod. So far, I’m getting better and I’m profoundly grateful. Anything major changes and I’ll let you know. I need to get busy-there’s important stuff coming up!

One evening, during a dark nadir in my illness, I couldn’t sleep. I shuffled into the living room and collapsed on the sofa to play the endlessly fun, yet wildly unproductive ‘What If...’ game. What if this is cancer, what if this illness costs tons of $$, what will happen to my family if something happens to me? blah, blah. You know the story. Deep in the midst of my fun pity party, I hear the clickety-click of doggy toenails on the floor tile and the bump of the dachshund’s front feet on the sofa’s edge.

Roxy-Doxy, (whiny voice) there’s no room for you. Go back to bed with the Texan!

She was having none of it as she waited for me to pick her up. She promptly dug her way under the blanket and wedged herself between my leg and the sofa cushion.

The warmth of the little dog was reassuring. Made me feel not so alone and her presence lightened my thinking. Even in the dark of a feverish night, Roxy sniffed me out and came to me. I was too preoccupied and anxious to simply turn on the light, but she found me in the darkness. Even after I scolded her and told her there wasn’t room, she waited patiently ’til I picked her up. Could this aging sausage dog be teaching me a lesson about someone who comes along side me when I am weak, pitiful and afraid? Someone who is always there, even when I turn Him away?

And the dyslexic atheist says there is no d-o-g.

He hasn’t met Roxy Doxy.

robanddoxy
The wiener (l) and the Texan (r). My loves.

You’re-never-alone love to all.

backstage Candide: progress

Week #2 working in the chorus of CANDIDE. Been taking antibiotics and steroids all week to knock out the remnants of a lingering upper respiratory problem. Some days I sound like I should be banished to a TB colony on a remote island. Other days, it feels like a champagne cork has permanently lodged in my right ear canal. Other than that, I feel fine.

Tuesday night we received our official score.

Spending every spare moment with this book.
Spending every spare moment with this book.

I skipped into our house after Opera practice and proudly displayed my big book of music to the TV-watching Texan.

The brilliance of Berstein.
The brilliance of Berstein.

Look Texan…..I got a score tonight!

Who won?

No, no silly….the musical score….for CANDIDE!

What grade did you make?

If it doesn’t involve a round ball and a scoreboard, the Texan ain’t interested.

The chorus had a very productive rehearsal last evening.

Our esteemed chorus master.
Our esteemed Chorus Master.

Dr. George leads the chorus rehearsals and he keeps us on our toes. He has a LOOK.  When you see the LOOK, you’re highly motivated to sing your part correctly. After one of my particularly noisy TB coughing spasms, Dr. George chastised, ‘If you’ve got a cold, don’t come to rehearsals and spread it around!’

Oops. Didn’t think I was still contagious. Guess that was my invitation to slink out the door. I stayed.  Let’s just say rehearsals next week will find me on the back row with a pocket full of Halls. It’ll be OK. I’ll be a safer distance from the stick.

I’ve been pondering the unlikely mash-up of Voltaire and Bernstein that is CANDIDE. What sort of musician decides to make a musical of Voltaire’s grimly satirical work?

I thought I was utterly alone with my ponder-ations.

Until I spotted the bookworm weiner dog.

The Doxy reading her favorite biography.
The Doxy reading her favorite biography.

She wasn’t going rogue this time. She was studying THIS.

voltaire

Roxy Doxy:  You DO realize, Voltaire and Jonathan Swift are considered the greatest satirists in all of literature?!

Me: What do you know of Bernstein?

Roxy Doxy:  Bernstein? I was the featured counter-tenor soloist in his Chichester Psalms!

I am no longer alone.

Not-keeping-score love to all.