Life's a whirl

My sweet girl is under a lot of pressure right now, her new job ramping up at the same time that she and her love are packing up their apartment of the last two years in Boston to move back to New York City next week. I'm so excited they'll soon be back in town. But somewhere in there they will also have to travel to Atlanta and back for a friend's wedding this weekend, passing through New York and staying with us overnight on Thursday, heading out before daybreak Friday morning. I get exhausted just thinking about what they have ahead of them, but they're young, they'll get through it. She said they're throwing out a mountain of stuff, which I think is an excellent idea as they set themselves up for the next stage of their lives. 

It will be nice to see them for a few hours on Thursday evening, though I will have my third choir rehearsal that night, and three days after that, on Sunday, June 26, we will give a community concert of ten songs, including selections in Latin, Hungarian, Spanish, and Ukranian, as well as good old English—after only three rehearsals! One of the women in the choir is so strong a singer and so fluent a sight reader of musical scores that the conductor moves her around to the different sections, from tenor to alto to soprano depending on which part he thinks needs bolstering in a particular song. 

This woman did me such a mitzvah last week. I had asked her about the progression of the alto part in one of the pieces, a lovely but confusing arrangement of "Shenandoah," and she offered to picked out the part on piano when she got home that evening and send it to me. I thanked her profusely. That night I received a text with the recording as promised, but she also sent recordings of the alto parts, each played in the proper noted rhythm, for every single song we're doing. She has no idea how she saved my life! Or maybe she heard me singing, and she does. Even so, her talent and generosity just slayed me. 

Our social spring and summer continues this weekend with my cousin Andrew and his son Izzy arriving on Friday, and staying through Sunday, leaving a few hours before our concert, which the conductor says he might characterize as "an open rehearsal" depending on how we sound in the run through this week. My son and his best friend who lives in Amsterdam but is here for a few weeks with his girlfriend, are also coming by tomorrow because he wants to see us while he's here. I was touched that he would take time out of his own social whirl to visit with the man and me, even though he used to periodically be a fixture in our home. I love these boys, and love that they have remained close. 

In other news, whispered with some trepidation, there may be another book in the offing, one I might be madly excited about, enough to push me back into the mire and make me forget that book writing is actually a very painful process. But sometimes, depending on the subject, it can be worth it. This person is worth it. If I get the book, of course. To hope for a thing is nerve wracking and hard. I'm trying to be patient and prepared and practice non-attachment to the outcome. Que sera sera.