Lopseed of Bloom

I'm cranky because I wanted to go for a walk, but it rained on and off until it got dark, so I couldn't. While I was trapped inside, I got more email about the memorial service I'm supposed to help organize. I am as helpful and tactful as I can possibly be, but it never seems to work out very well. I just want my mother to be buried, and I am hating every minute of all the crap that comes in between. Dealing with it sends me into a tailspin. It's not about grieving. It's about perpetual aggravation.

Tra la la . . . never mind. The rest of the day was about church. Today heralded the departure of our much-loved pianist, who is bowing out of the music department because she's having twins. I showed up out of respect for her, and because the oboist told me we'd just be doing two pieces--prelude and postlude. Well, the prelude turned out to be a rather tricky duet piece that I had to play from the piano part, which is hard because the notes are so darn small I can hardly see them. And then the choir was doing several familiar pieces, and the oboist helpfully shoved the sheet music for those at me, too. She was singing, not playing, so I was on my own as instrumentation. That was kind of a lot for me to jump into after my extended absence. But it worked out okay, I guess. No one complained. I always enjoy playing "Seal Lullaby," by Eric Whitacre. He's one of my favorites, ever since I fortuitously encountered his music in a concert I went to see because oracne was singing in it.

The Sparrowhawk made tuna fish salad for the end of year picnic potluck afterwards. Since it was raining heavily, the picnic took place in the social hall. It's not as much fun that way. The food offerings were more terrible than usual, with a lot of store-bought pasta salads taking center stage. I ate mostly raw veggies and eschewed all pastas and things with chickpeas in them, but it still didn't make my tummy happy. Better luck tomorrow.

Edited because I misspelled Eric Whitacre! Oh dear.