Sunday, June 24, 2012

Day 308 (Week 44): My Husband the Maestro

Our friends who live around the corner (the ones who invite us to Sukkot and Hanukkah parties) are very involved in the Cambridge Symphony Orchestra, and they won an opportunity for Mr. Lady C to guest-conduct "The Washington Post March" by Sousa at today's outdoor concert. It was a perfect day; sunny with a refreshing breeze, and Mom and Mimosa and I headed out to Cambridge, comfy lawn chairs in hand, to take in some culture. (Li'l Martini had a playdate with HoneyBear — probably just as well, though he would've enjoyed some elements of the event.)

It was awesome! Husband was in seventh heaven — he adores classical music above almost anything else in life (seriously — if he had to choose between me and music, I think this decision would give him serious pause), and he's never had an opportunity to conduct an actual orchestra before. And he was so great at it! One of the musicians said to him, "Usually we ignore the guest conductors — but you actually know what you're doing!" He'd been all-over butterflies for most of the morning, but when the moment arrived, he stepped right up — and it was incredibly thrilling to see him doing this new thing. He conducted like he was born to it. We clapped and cheered. Mom, who adores my husband, was especially happy to be here for this (and sorry that Dad wasn't — he would have loved it too, though he might have needed a blanket, God love my ever-more-elderly father).

The rest of the program was splendid as well — selections from Chicago, West Side Story, Brahms, Beethoven, and a big splash of John Williams (highlights of the scores from Superman and E.T.). I got very teary-eyed more than once.

There is something so wonderful about watching the person you love do the thing that they are passionate about. I've always loved watching Husband teach, and today I got another opportunity to see him in his element. It was simply wonderful.

Mom and I also took Mimosa to Dress Barn to buy her a few new things as an additional grad present; she now has a slinky black top with a Grecian neckline, a cute Fourth of July T-shirt, and a pretty gauzy tiered skirt in blues and greens and purples. She looked good in literally every thing she tried on, but I have learned to only buy her things that she herself loves; otherwise, they just hang in the closet, no matter how beautiful I think they are. She is she, I am I; this I know for sure.

I made red snapper for dinner, also left-over Grandma's Rice Dish, also greens from my CSA (turnip, collard, and spinach), French bread, and red-hot apples, also lots and lots of white wine, and ice cream for dessert. (We used up the "pork raisins," you'll be glad to know.) And we played so many games! Scattergories, and Speed Scrabble, and Consequences, and Tripoly, and Kings in the Corner, and we laughed and laughed and drank more wine and knocked over some wine and the word "drunk" was thrown around quite a bit, and it was very uproarious, and I can't believe she's leaving in six hours. I am going to cry hard tomorrow morning. This was one of her longest visits, and it feels like one of the shortest.

But it was certainly packed with fun and wonderful memories. My kids love their grandma so much, and Husband loves her too. And I wish my dad were willing to travel more, but he just isn't, so that's that. A strong relationship with at least one grandparent is an amazing thing. I feel so lucky to have been close to all four of mine. Husband's parents lived in Texas and died when my kids were very small, so my parents are pretty much their only option — which is why I feel so doubly lucky to have built such a wonderful extended family here in New England. But while they have numerous "adopted" aunties and uncles and cousins, we really don't have adopted grandparents. My mom is thus ultra special.

I'll see her again in August, but still. I HATE when she leaves.

But tomorrow I return to hair shirts and Spartan living, and it's about time. I will do my official re-weigh-in on Tuesday.

Off to bed — I'm getting up at 4:30 to drive to the airport.

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, good night!

—Lady C, patroness of the arts

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