I can barely think because for the last forty five minutes I’ve been watching this video repeatedly (obsessively?). Even as I type, it’s playing the background. If you didn’t click on the link, it’s a video of Maria Pires, who showed up to a concert expecting to play a different concerto from the one the orchestra starts to play. The agony in her whole being is apparent as she registers the situation, but she goes bravely ahead to play a tear-jerkingly amazing performance. The video only shows the first couple measures, but wow.
I can NOT imagine that kind of panic and agony, but I do recall in high school, when I showed up to the dress rehearsal to play the Rachmaninoff second piano concerto with the high school orchestra, they started playing the Rachmaninoff third concerto. The conductor thought I’d written down the wrong piece after the audition months prior, and I thought he was going to call the whole performance off until he finally checked the paper and realized he’d just made a mistake. Thankfully, the orchestra did a great job getting the second concerto together in not much time, and all went swimmingly from there.
But that is the closest (and obviously, not even that close) I’ve come to Maria Pires’ experience. I’m still trembling from watching the video so much, so I guess I’ll pause it so I can recount the day’s events quickly–and then get back to re-watching my new favorite video clip.
After Wheeler Farm, we went to Barnes and Noble because–dum-da-da-dum–Lydia told me she needed to go potty, and she was NOT in pull-ups. I haven’t put her in pull-ups for the past two days, and she hasn’t had a single accident. Woo-hoo! Also, it was a great excuse to go to a bookstore.
After Barnes and Noble, we hightailed it to the library for some kid books and to get the books I restrained myself from purchasing at the bookstore. The library had multiple copies of all the books I wanted to buy (The Paris Wife and Death Comes to Pemberly). I love the library.
Then it was home, where I dunked the girls in the quickest baths of their little lives; it was past bedtime, but they were filthy from duck chasing and cookie eating, so I went on ahead and still bathed them. Then it was scriptures, prayer, bed, clean, laundry, and get-hooked-by-the-surprise-concerto-video time. Speaking of which, I’ll get back to watching that now.