Pass the Bacon Bits

On Tuesday I taught my first music lessons in over a year - one piano and one voice lesson. One of the girls from church came to our place to watch Monkey while I taught. They had a great time together and I think he will look forward to her coming every week. I had a great time too. My voice was tired by the end of the hour (note to self: less talking, more music). But the best part was that I got paid for all the lessons in September (three weeks X two students = not very much $). It felt good to hold those cheques in my hand.

erin k : "Look, Monkey, Mama brought home a tiny little bit of bacon."
music man: "Bacon bits"

Yes, bacon bits. And that's okay.

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I got an email today informing me of an upcoming event to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the choir program at my high school. This is an event that I would actually be interested in going to if it weren't for my wee Monkey and the fact that it is on Thanksgiving weekend (I'm home to eat turkey, people. Don't mess with turkey time.) Choir was my life in high school. So, though I'm not likely to participate I may go to the alumni choir concert, just for fun.


Music man graduated high school one year before me (and 300 kms away). Both of our ten year reunions have come and gone. Except, they didn't come. Neither of us heard a peep about a reunion of any sort. This is not disappointing to me because I really really wanted to go. No, this is disappointing because if there is no reunion, there is nothing to not go to. I can't show how little I care about such things if there is nothing about which to say, "No, I don't think I'll go." In truth, this is actually what I said would happen all along. I can't see anyone from my graduating class caring enough to organize a reunion. Yup. We just don't care. And that's okay by me.