I made it through Monday and Tuesday without too much effort - only gargling with salt water (and, on one memorable and accidental occasion, pepper water), drinking gallons of hot herbal tea, and drugging myself within reason. Tonight will be a little harder, as I'm having some trouble speaking right now. I'll make it - singing is actual easier on the voice than speaking, if you're doing it correctly - but it's not as enjoyable as it otherwise would be. The good news is, it'll buy me a little sympathy from the coach and let her beat on one of the other guys in the quartet.
Yeah, right. As if. That's what I get for bringing a friend to coach.
Last year, I was sick during retreat, also. I think it's the stress of the approaching weekend: it's SO important, and I really, really want to make a good impression on our coach. Making things even more challenging: The Wife is singing with the chorus this year for contest, and I really want to impress her, as well. She doesn't see me direct from the performer's perspective often, and I want to make her proud. Or, at least, to embarrass her less than I usually do.
The retreat is a few hours on Friday night, about 8-10 hours on Saturday, and 3 more hours on Sunday morning of intensive work on our two contest pieces. We're bring in a coach from Colorado for the third straight year, and she's dynamic: a music educator by profession, and the exact sort of warm, bubbly, touchy-feely, hugable person that my chorus loves. Frankly, that's the sort that I love nowadays, too. It's held in a local Catholic school / center southeast of town, and we'll stay overnight for the weekend. There's a nice party and social event on Saturday night, which is pretty awesome. The ladies do a funny sketch - last year, because we'd been working on the Ode To Joy from Sister Act II, they dressed like nuns and cavorted around.
My chorus is really, really fun and really, really cute. I'm a lucky director.
Little Bear was up and down for quite some time last night with congestion and coughing. I have a feeling that he's going to be our asthmatic kid; The Boy has, thusfar, blissfully avoided any of my breathing issues. (Good thing; he's had enough on his plate.) The poor Little Bear is prone to coughing and wheezing on occasion, and we have an albuterol inhaler around the house for him.
The Baby's response to "What did you dream about last night?" upon first awakening: "Elephants and Batman." I guess he's having normal little boy dreams - animals and playing and flying and super heroes and stuff - but it's really funny how he's responded to the morning ritual. Elephants and Batman, indeed.
The last two mornings, The Boy has woken up with me. I slept a bit later - I'm still having some forearm issues, so I'm running in the mornings instead of lifting - so he likes to come downstairs and watch cartoons while I exercise. It's been nice, because then we have breakfast together; the other two children sleep later. I don't get a lot of one-on-one time with any of the kids, so having some time for a nice, leisurely breakfast conversation is worth its weight in gold. We don't talk about anything worldshaking or of any more importance than the normal days that we've had.
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