3^3
Today is the 33rd anniversary of the day I moved to Santa Cruz, back when I was about 32 months older than violetclm is now. And speaking of the juxtapositioning of such numbers, 33 is how old I was when violetclm was born. And as I walked through the Cabrillo cafeteria this evening I was having strong flashbacks of eating many not-too-great meals there with violetclm 31 years ago -- as with much else in life, who would have thought that such an ordinary thing would suddenly seem so poignant?
Tonight was the 30th meeting of my new piano class. And while as far as I know no other powers of 3 were involved (last semester's piano class was MUS 51A to this one's MUS 51B), at one point the instructor mentioned today also being Lincoln's birthday, and asked if anyone knew how tall he had been -- as usual I was the one able to answer random odd questions, in this case due to Lincoln's having conveniently been the same height as violetclm.
On the bus downtown afterward (which was driving through fog the whole way, it was very strange) another student (who I knew to be an accomplished trumpet player, due to the piano instructor's having the students briefly interview and introduce each other at the beginning of the class) asked how I had liked the class. I said it was good, but that I certainly should have practiced a lot more (= more than just a tiny bit this afternoon!) over the semester break. I did all right, but definitely had more "eep, too much sight-reading!" reactions than I would have had if I had been keeping up.
I hadn't been too pleased at the sight of this semester's textbook -- among other things no CD (I had found playing along with last semester's textbook's CD to be really helpful), and the whole thing in small smudgy print as if it had been kind of sloppily scanned and reduced -- but it turned out to have been written by a late, beloved teacher of the instructor, and, oh well, I'm sure I'll do fine if I just practice, practice, practice!
Tonight was the 30th meeting of my new piano class. And while as far as I know no other powers of 3 were involved (last semester's piano class was MUS 51A to this one's MUS 51B), at one point the instructor mentioned today also being Lincoln's birthday, and asked if anyone knew how tall he had been -- as usual I was the one able to answer random odd questions, in this case due to Lincoln's having conveniently been the same height as violetclm.
On the bus downtown afterward (which was driving through fog the whole way, it was very strange) another student (who I knew to be an accomplished trumpet player, due to the piano instructor's having the students briefly interview and introduce each other at the beginning of the class) asked how I had liked the class. I said it was good, but that I certainly should have practiced a lot more (= more than just a tiny bit this afternoon!) over the semester break. I did all right, but definitely had more "eep, too much sight-reading!" reactions than I would have had if I had been keeping up.
I hadn't been too pleased at the sight of this semester's textbook -- among other things no CD (I had found playing along with last semester's textbook's CD to be really helpful), and the whole thing in small smudgy print as if it had been kind of sloppily scanned and reduced -- but it turned out to have been written by a late, beloved teacher of the instructor, and, oh well, I'm sure I'll do fine if I just practice, practice, practice!