I know what I want to do with my free time and creative energies after I've stopped ballroom dancing. The epiphany hit while I was listening to the radio in the car -- it was one of those "driveway moments" when I couldn't tear myself away until the piece ended, even though I was squirming for a bathroom. When the piece did end, I wanted to cry
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Best of luck with the moody bastards (scratch that: the moody seventeen-fingered bastards...)
The idea of playing Rhapsody in Blue with you is still fabulously appealing. I know it's an old dream, and i am sorry for neglecting it, but it's a good one.
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But then that's me. I always go for "all of the above", but I'm starting to realize even I can't advocate that all the time- it's hard to throw yourself fully into 17 or so things.
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Piano seems like an excellent choice of pasttime. I somewhat regret I never learned to play piano. Even my stubby-fingered dad can play piano (although that apparently involved the best of the British teaching-by-long-rulers methods).
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