May. 24th, 2015

nnozomi: (nodamecello)
Tomorrow I'm probably going to regret not having gone into work on Saturday, but I did have a fairly productive weekend on non-work-related terms.
The apartment is somewhat cleaner, or at least tidier, than it was, I took a load of dry-cleaning and got it back, I made a pot of pseudo-chili that I can eat for dinner tomorrow and the next day, meaning I don't have to deal with shop/cook after work. Yesterday I went into Kyoto and did some food shopping, including a couple of packets of the non-sweet, non-sticky dried apricots that are my preferred work snack (along with roasted almonds, which are easier to get hold of).
What else? Afternoon naps (this is what happens when I lie on the bed to watch baseball), not actually very pleasant--waking up with a headache. Not sure why, maybe my body not enjoying the weather's switch to pre-summer mode. [Oh my goodness, there's a guy playing violin in the NKyo concert on TV with an honest-to-goodness Mohawk. The concertmaster, in fact. What next.]
I got a couple of minor freelance things done; I also stuck my head in at a local band concert in which a colleague was playing sax. They were very respectably competent (a few clarinet tunings that M-from-orchestra would have winced at, but basically decent), but my goodness, the boringness of band music, why would anyone even bother (she said snobbily). Join an orchestra, or a jazz band, why not?
Orchestra rehearsal this morning, strings, Brahms. So much going on and it's all fascinating...I keep telling myself that I have to practice more, not even so that I can play my own part properly (sure, that would be a nice bonus, you know?) but so I'll have the leeway to listen to what other parts are doing. Caught myself making a snide remark to M afterwards about something completely pointless, talk about a vicious circle.
Saturday night I had what I can only describe as a ?date? with the handily named Tanaka. Dinner at a yakitori place (what Seiden-sensei, deliberately, calls "burnt chicken"), to a "jazz session" in a little underground place, with expert amateurs doing "Summertime," "My Favorite Things" (reminding me of Y, who loved that movie, and of my father, who used to say dryly "When the dog bites or the bee stings, you're better off going to the doctor than thinking of your favorite things"), a couple of other tunes I didn't know as well. Then a walk to a nearby park (where someone kissed me once) and a long talk.

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