Well, it has been quite the exciting little week here at ye olde AvBlog site. Lots of traffic, lots of agita. I'm grateful for all the support from folks who know me, I'm delighted that so far nobody has called me a moron, at least while I was in earshot.
I feel like I should use this opportunity to be profound, to be useful and worthy of the attention, to comment on matters of consequence. But I am not a little prince and I don't really have any observations on the warfare between the sheep and the flowers other than to think I really ought to follow through on my plans to acquire an agriculture textbook and try to understand some of it before my mom tries to tell me anything more about the family farm.
So I'll trundle back to more mundane matters, as if nothing ever happened. Let's start with Russian Jews.
Fiddler on the Roof opened last weekend and did fairly well, pulling in more than a hundred folks. After last week's crazy pell-mell pace of rehearsals every night and strife every day, this week has felt like a picnic. That all ends tomorrow, however. Tomorrow there is work, then a performance that will get us home at midnight. Friday I am up for work at 4 a.m., a doctor's appointment at 2:30, another performance that gets us out at midnight, after which we will drive to Newport News for NeighborGirl's college graduation at 10 a.m. Saturday -- and after that we will theoretically come back north, do another performance Saturday night, get home at midnight, and be back at the theater on Sunday for a Mother's Day matinee. Gahhh. No rest for the wicked.
But the kid is loving it, and Not Your Average Blogger reports that he's doing well on stage. (I haven't seen much from the audience; I'm mostly running around backstage looking for buckets and bottles and battery-operated candles.)
This has not left much time for me to admire my house at my favorite time of year. Creating mulch paths in the flowerbed last year was exactly what I should have done years ago -- the weeding has been cut to almost nothing and the spaces I've finally filled with new flowers look absolutely gorgeous. Inside the house is not as gratifying -- having a dog means lots more hair and I'm astonished at how I can sweep a pound of dog hair off the floor, then come back and sweep again a half hour later and have another pound. You'd think the dog would be bald by now. She's not. She's still a cutie.
We are also into the time of year where summer camp looms its head. It's going to be quite the eclectic summer for the boy. While my main goal was to set it up so we could avoid spending any time whatsoever in Woodbridge for the next couple of months, the kid's desires were also considered. So he's got a kiddie class on physics and bottle rockets, basketball, a couple drama camps, golf, and two weeks of multiplication-intensive math camp at the end of August as he heads into fourth grade.
Fourth grade! Too soon! Good lord. This time next year his age will be a double digit and he'll probably be taller than I am. Perhaps that basketball camp was a good idea after all...
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