Will it make me sweat? Will it make me wet?

Dear Lovers, Dreamers,

Triple cereal mix: Oatmeal, Grape-nuts and Raisin Bran (all low-rent store brands) with a drenching of vegan half and half (one part soy milk, one part water). That's what was for dinner tonight in case you'd like to know. Of course I just found out that the gum I'm chewing has milk derived ingredients in it. So now veal calves must suffer because I want whiter teeth. Way to go Trident. Dumb asses.

Boy was that ever a crappy start to a blog post. Anyone still even reading? Let's try a different tact. How 'bout romance?

I'm one small step closer to saving the life of the girl-whose-laugh-is-as-lovely-as-she-is from Supreme Commander Zark's apocalyptic wrath (casual readers, late-comers, and others not yet indoctrinated check the archives here and here). Lucky for her she chose to not hang up on me when I asked her out, otherwise she'd be sorry. Apocalyptic alien wraths have a tendency to sting a bit.

On the subject of stinging, rejection can feel downright wrath-ish from time to time as well. So here was my strategy for the aforementioned phone proposition. (Feel free to pinch it, hopeful lovers-to-be.) The call is placed during the last few minutes of a break between rehearsal segments. That way, in the event of a negative response the option of a quick termination of the inevitable ensuing awkward conversation is afforded when the oboe's A is heard sounding in the background.

Sure. Such a scenario could be affected quite readily through the use of a tuner held at arm's length but who wants to not start a potential relationship with a dishonest post-rejection awkwardness avoidance excuse? Not me. That's not who. Besides, in case you haven't been paying attention it doesn't matter anyway cuz I wasn't rejected for some reason which I don't pretend to understand.

Which brings to light the only flaw in my strategy: If there is no rejection, by definition there will not be any post-rejection awkwardness. Thus you're left with mere moments to express your pleasure and thanks at not being rejected and to generally wrap things up including making future meeting plans if need be. This is not much time to beam and bask and can lead to a hurried and confusing post-acceptance conversation. Score one for the shady tuner method which offers more in the way of flexibility.

In other news, my third and final orchestra is up and running for the season. We played Hindemith's Symphonic Metamorphosis, Rachi 2 and Elgar's Enigma Variations in QC last weekend. The Saturday night show was exciting and not just because I had the Elgar open on my stand at the beginning of the concert instead of the Hindemith. (I thought the conductor's prep seemed rather more vigorous than the Enigma theme warranted. And it was aimed right at the principal and me (2nd) as if the two of us started the whole piece fortissimo or somethi... OH SHIT!)

The Sunday matinee felt exactly the opposite of exciting due solely to my own foul and frustrated mood. A state of mind which stemmed from a weekend of restaurant socializing in table-clumping-sized groups with everyone except the only person I wanted to be talking to at all who happened to be sitting right next to me for most meals: the-girl-whose-laugh-is-as-lovely-as-she-is.

Okay, maybe my Sunday grumpiness was also due a little bit to a Saturday night hot tub party that fell through just like all the other grandiose post-concert plans we make during QC sets even though I did push-ups before the concert and wore a swimming suit under my tux just because of it. I mean, jeez! But it's all good now.

Oh, I guess there is one more flaw in my post-rejection awkwardness avoidance strategy. In the event of either rejection or acceptance you've got to get through the rest of rehearsal in a very distracted state. You're either cursing her AND the key change you just missed or dreamily wondering what she's doing that very second before wondering somewhat less dreamily what the fuck the count is.

And,
Me

p.s. What is the count, anyway?
5? (2, 3, 4, 5, 6)
12?! (2, 3, 4, 5, 6)
Letter what?!!
OH SHIT!!