Loaded weekend...and the aftermath
PHMC held its annual retreat this past weekend. I'd been looking forward to it for months, and did not come away disappointed. As arranged, I picked up Chuck on my way out of town, and arrived shortly after 5pm. We were among the first to arrive. The house in which we were lodged is what would've been an early-twentieth century resort cottage...if you were a Vanderbilt. The place was spacious, and included servants quarters, and a separate guest house. There were just enough beds for the 20 of us.
madisonbear was the last to arrive, just in time for our first rehearsal (We had a total of five two-hour rehearsal periods over three days). We was a bit frazzled and unfocused. Turns out he'd been experiencing panic attacks all week, including one on the way to retreat severe enough to cause chest pains. While he expressed doubts about being able to stay overnight, I went into avuncular overdrive and managed to soothe him enough to stay. I'd like to think he was grateful he did, but we'll get into that later.
The composers of our two commissioned pieces arrived from Minneapolis early Saturday afternoon, and we were treated to their stories of how they composed their pieces, and their views on how they envisioned them being performed. It was a bit intimidating, performing in front of them, but they were very supportive and gracious. The group took an instant liking to them.
Saturday night was bowling! We invaded the local lanes. Whatever the local stand on homo-seck-shuls, they're wise enough to realize that our money spends well. I'm glad I was wearing my industrial-strength knee brace, though. Due to a wet linoleum floor at the approach to the raised hardwood of the lanes, I stuck while attempting to slide to the foul line, and felt my knee strain. For the rest of the evening, I simply walked up to the line, stood and rolled the ball. Managed to break 70 on both my games. My real satisfaction came from watching madisonbear truly relax and enjoy himself.
We were all dragging our asses Sunday morning, croaking like bullfrogs. No one is a Tenor at 6am. We had a final, low-key rehearsal (HA! "Low-key"! I crack myself up!), said our good-byes and headed home. We were like kids leaving Disneyland: Bone tired, but not wanting it to end.
Yesterday, work was less heinous than I expected, but the real bomb came through this venue: madisonbear's beloved Aunt Gerry died while he was away at retreat. This was not an unexpected event: The woman had been near death for the past several months. What's really eating at Ted is the fact that he wasn't there. While I understand this at a certain level, I also realize that Ted would've been an utter emotional wreck had be been there. The anticipation of the woman's death would've set off an untold number of anxiety attacks, and the moment of her death would've been devastating. Instead, the man is beating himself up for daring to enjoy himself at his dear aunt's expense. This logic is rubbish, counter-productive, and downright toxic. I've expressed my feelings to some extent in his blog, and want to pursue it with him in person. Send positive vibes his way, readers.
We've been experiencing a string of fairly heavy rains since midnight, and the last wave is approaching. Fortunately, the basement is suffering only minimal flooding. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it all stops soon.
madisonbear was the last to arrive, just in time for our first rehearsal (We had a total of five two-hour rehearsal periods over three days). We was a bit frazzled and unfocused. Turns out he'd been experiencing panic attacks all week, including one on the way to retreat severe enough to cause chest pains. While he expressed doubts about being able to stay overnight, I went into avuncular overdrive and managed to soothe him enough to stay. I'd like to think he was grateful he did, but we'll get into that later.
The composers of our two commissioned pieces arrived from Minneapolis early Saturday afternoon, and we were treated to their stories of how they composed their pieces, and their views on how they envisioned them being performed. It was a bit intimidating, performing in front of them, but they were very supportive and gracious. The group took an instant liking to them.
Saturday night was bowling! We invaded the local lanes. Whatever the local stand on homo-seck-shuls, they're wise enough to realize that our money spends well. I'm glad I was wearing my industrial-strength knee brace, though. Due to a wet linoleum floor at the approach to the raised hardwood of the lanes, I stuck while attempting to slide to the foul line, and felt my knee strain. For the rest of the evening, I simply walked up to the line, stood and rolled the ball. Managed to break 70 on both my games. My real satisfaction came from watching madisonbear truly relax and enjoy himself.
We were all dragging our asses Sunday morning, croaking like bullfrogs. No one is a Tenor at 6am. We had a final, low-key rehearsal (HA! "Low-key"! I crack myself up!), said our good-byes and headed home. We were like kids leaving Disneyland: Bone tired, but not wanting it to end.
Yesterday, work was less heinous than I expected, but the real bomb came through this venue: madisonbear's beloved Aunt Gerry died while he was away at retreat. This was not an unexpected event: The woman had been near death for the past several months. What's really eating at Ted is the fact that he wasn't there. While I understand this at a certain level, I also realize that Ted would've been an utter emotional wreck had be been there. The anticipation of the woman's death would've set off an untold number of anxiety attacks, and the moment of her death would've been devastating. Instead, the man is beating himself up for daring to enjoy himself at his dear aunt's expense. This logic is rubbish, counter-productive, and downright toxic. I've expressed my feelings to some extent in his blog, and want to pursue it with him in person. Send positive vibes his way, readers.
We've been experiencing a string of fairly heavy rains since midnight, and the last wave is approaching. Fortunately, the basement is suffering only minimal flooding. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it all stops soon.