Once upon a time there was a very bad blogger named Talia. She promised the scant few readers of her blog that she would update on the crazy happenings of a certain week during October and then never really followed through on said promise. BIG EFFIN’ SURPRISE, ‘m I right?
Here is the slightly briefer version than the one I started writing eons ago.
My Grand-dad passed away at age 94. It was a sad thing, yes, but the theme of all this funerary visitation and ceremony and family together-ness was honestly, seriously celebrating his life. My Grand-dad did a lot for the people in his family and his community, and being able to hear about all of his personal and family accomplishments and discover all sorts of things about my family that I hadn’t a clue about was truly rewarding. It’s always hard to pinpoint where certain traits and family-likenesses occur but I can easily say that my appreciation for agricultural matters and the out-of-doors is something that comes from my Grand-dad. So to be honest, for a funeral, it was a pretty uplifting event.
Also, there was a lot of Polish food. Hell’s bells. A lot of Polish food. So much Polish food, in fact, that I have about a week’s worth of Gołąbki in my freezer.
While all of this family gathering stuff was going on, though, I caught the flu. Fuck me, I caught the flu. I don’t think I’ve had the flu since perhaps my freshman year of college, but I basically plan never to get the flu again. I’m a little reluctant to admit how much driving I did during this period of sickness, but there wasn’t much choice with that one. I did end up staying a day or two extra up in the hills, but I wasn’t sleeping well and was just sharing a household with MORE sick people and being cranky that I couldn’t contribute usefulness to the world in the sick state, I finally drove back to Rochester, sat out of school for a couple days and am fortunately about fully recovered. I’m also a little reluctant to admit that I still don’t know whether or not it was H1N1, because the last thing I wanted to do while I was sick was haul my ass out of bed and endanger more healthy drivers and Samaritans with my plague. Or really, move at all.
I’m better now. And have somehow fixed some structural issues with my cello-playing. I am about 90% convinced this has to do with some advice given to me that when I shift notes upward, to think about someone dangling a Ritter Sport bar in front of my face. Chocolate fixes everything!
Oh. But wait. I totally forgot to mention that part where I played a show with the band La Strada in Canada and it was awesome except for the part where they DETAINED ME AT THE BORDER for nearly two hours! Jerks! They were saying that the band I was playing with needed some kind of written paperwork to get in and that my name would also have to be on it if I wanted to join them — even though I was just subbing for another cellist! And then it turned out the venue in question was exempt from said ordinance. I don’t know, something to do with the fact that the venue was a MUSIC venue and not just a bar. So even though I said about three times to the border-patrol person that it was a MUUUSIC LOUUUNGE, it didn’t register that it was actually a Music Lounge until the manager of the band sent him the exemption email, he looks up the venue on the internet and goes “Ooooh. It’s a Music Lounge.” Gah.
So the moral of the story is, if you’re crossing the border and might earn as much as a whole $30? LIE.