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Dec. 14th, 2012 01:28 pmYou wouldn't think a week with three parties in it would be so much of a slog, but it was. Is. However, one more week and then I don't have to go back to work until January 2.
The slog more or less started last Saturday, when I went and sang in public for the second time in 30 years (having first burned the living daylights out of my tongue on the pho I had had for lunch). Either I'm getting used to singing in public, or wearing different shoes this time was a good idea, because this time I only had one leg that wouldn't stop shaking. Last time it was both. Hopefully last Saturday has also marked the end of memorizing German art songs. Romance languages are fine, but no more German. So I slogged through the German, and slogged through some acting which I don't do very well, and slogged off (it was damp that day) home again, and spent the rest of the evening sitting with my embroidery in front of bad TV. (Some day I'll remember that there is NOTHING good on TV on Saturdays.)
Work is all about food this week. On Monday we had our office holiday lunch, on Tuesday we had the HMS party, and on Wednesday the denizens of this building got bagels and coffee for being good sports about the window replacement that dragged on for months. Today our office is having some sort of dessert to commemorate the December birthdays. We're usually all about feeding people, but around Christmas it gets ridiculous. And then in February it comes to a screeching halt for a while and everybody wonders why there isn't any food.
Do I really want to spend $12 on Les Mis to find out that Russell Crowe shouldn't sing if Hugh Jackman is?
The slog more or less started last Saturday, when I went and sang in public for the second time in 30 years (having first burned the living daylights out of my tongue on the pho I had had for lunch). Either I'm getting used to singing in public, or wearing different shoes this time was a good idea, because this time I only had one leg that wouldn't stop shaking. Last time it was both. Hopefully last Saturday has also marked the end of memorizing German art songs. Romance languages are fine, but no more German. So I slogged through the German, and slogged through some acting which I don't do very well, and slogged off (it was damp that day) home again, and spent the rest of the evening sitting with my embroidery in front of bad TV. (Some day I'll remember that there is NOTHING good on TV on Saturdays.)
Work is all about food this week. On Monday we had our office holiday lunch, on Tuesday we had the HMS party, and on Wednesday the denizens of this building got bagels and coffee for being good sports about the window replacement that dragged on for months. Today our office is having some sort of dessert to commemorate the December birthdays. We're usually all about feeding people, but around Christmas it gets ridiculous. And then in February it comes to a screeching halt for a while and everybody wonders why there isn't any food.
Do I really want to spend $12 on Les Mis to find out that Russell Crowe shouldn't sing if Hugh Jackman is?
