(no subject)

If you had told me yesterday that I'd spend my evening next to my former thesis supervisor and arch-nemesis, with each of us kneeling in front of a toy glockenspiel and picking out a tinny little tune while singing along with a matronly instructor in a falsetto voice, I would have told you to put down the crack pipe and take a long, hard look at your life.

(no subject)

My whole office has gone skiing today. I don't ski because I prefer my legs *attached* to my torso. So, I'm sitting here in a big ol' empty cube farm. Thankfully, the dojo next door is running a march break day program so I can hear the little bastards screaming and yelling and hitting the mat as they spar; this is my company today.

As is usually the case, the story isn't as good as the teaser: Sprout attends a Kindermusik class on Thursday nights, and tonight I took her there for the first time (I usually stay home with Sequel). In the waiting room, bent over a Greek mass transfer text, was my former thesis advisor in all his Little Napoleonic glory. I haven't seen the man in probably 7 years, and when I left grad school in 97 we didn't part on the best of terms. Still, we shot the shit for 20 minutes or so, no big deal. I don't bear the man (much) animosity these days, and Lord knows I was not the best student...

Then, the parents get called in to the class to see what this week's lesson has been and learn the homework. I was warned about this ahead of time, so I was ready. The part I WASN'T ready for, was that the substitute teacher asked the parents to come play that day's piece after the demonstration from the Children. Perfesser's son (fifth!) was next to my daughter so there we were. I got chided for transposing the notes into a lower register when I was singing along; I had to attempt my best coloratura so my kid could get her sticker and we could book the hell out of there.

I told ms.'v all about this when I got back. I'm still not sure she believes me.