I love my Work, because the operative verb is "Play".
Several weeks ago, ruperthemoose sent me a lovely Paraguan folksong which he feels would fit my voice and harp. Oh, is he right. Today, I went down to the Trattoria, to see if Clara had gotten a chance to listen to it and write down (and translate, roughly, from Spanish) the lyric; Clara helped me with "Amor de mi Corazon", and she says that this piece is MUCH prettier. So I stopped by to see if she had done so.
Clara says, "You are playing tonight?"
I stop in my tracks. Tonight?
Guillermo comes out of the kitchen.
"Same as last year; you're on before Holly," says Guillermo.
He hadn't told *me* he wanted me to play. I am very glad I stopped by - I have another day of work this year, at the last possible moment. Fun.
I play from 7-9 this evening, and go home carrying some of the best food in town; my gall bladder won't let me eat their Gnocchi Quattro Formaggi more than once a week, and I have twice in the last two years had their (honest, the only word *is* "orgasmic") Lamb Shank (Lamb Osso Bucco yumyumyum). They feed me on a regular basis through the summer, when I pack their patio. Often, when I don't pack it, too.
Thank you, ruperthemoose; if I hadn't stopped there to see Clara, on behalf of this song, I likely would have missed this opportunity (or Guillermo would have called at 8pm, saying "Where are you?" and I would have had to tell him that he forgot to actually BOOK me). This way, it worked out much, much better. Coincidence, or cosmic mayhem? Thank you, regardless. I'd much rather be "working" tonight. Hope this evening is lovely for all of you, too.
Clara says, "You are playing tonight?"
I stop in my tracks. Tonight?
Guillermo comes out of the kitchen.
"Same as last year; you're on before Holly," says Guillermo.
He hadn't told *me* he wanted me to play. I am very glad I stopped by - I have another day of work this year, at the last possible moment. Fun.
I play from 7-9 this evening, and go home carrying some of the best food in town; my gall bladder won't let me eat their Gnocchi Quattro Formaggi more than once a week, and I have twice in the last two years had their (honest, the only word *is* "orgasmic") Lamb Shank (Lamb Osso Bucco yumyumyum). They feed me on a regular basis through the summer, when I pack their patio. Often, when I don't pack it, too.
Thank you, ruperthemoose; if I hadn't stopped there to see Clara, on behalf of this song, I likely would have missed this opportunity (or Guillermo would have called at 8pm, saying "Where are you?" and I would have had to tell him that he forgot to actually BOOK me). This way, it worked out much, much better. Coincidence, or cosmic mayhem? Thank you, regardless. I'd much rather be "working" tonight. Hope this evening is lovely for all of you, too.