If only every week were like this one. As it happens, in the ebb and flow of my peripatetic portfolio career (circa 2009), I do get a few good weeks.
This week I waved my arms about for 3 days in a choral workshop; taught singing one-to-one in my private studio; wrote an academic book chapter; and sang at a well-paid, important-for-mental-health gig. This is all paid work (nearly: the book chapter just makes the days go by and I enjoy it)
This week I talked to my daughter and hugged her, confounded at a work dinner my husband’s work colleagues who don’t see the rebel me, only the middle aged, middle class, cis-heteronormative white lady me, chatted to my mum, mourned the ongoing loss of my parsley and dill to the naughty-but-terribly-cute-and-somewhat-tame possums, walked the dog, cleaned the toilet, did some laundry, counselled a potential new student, bought a new cushion and bath mat, paid bills, cooked food, wondered why the maidenhair fern in the bathroom has suddenly crapped itself, read blogs, academic journal articles and the news, played way too much Sim City on my phone app (so not even that good, sadly), watched all of Mozart in the Jungle, started that show with the numbers in it about JFK, and mourned the loss of an old but beloved performer: Jon English, who died yesterday aged only 66. Tomorrow I do some more book chapter and attend 2 concert events. The first is a piano recital by Daniel de Borah, the second is Alan Alda’s play about Einstein. Plus with any luck meeting Alan himself. (Note to self: don’t mention the West Wing and your favourite Republican character!)
So, this week has been fruitful, in every sense. Plus, the US primaries are hugely entertaining and terribly frightening all at once. What a crap bunch to choose from. (Mind you, we in Australia can’t really talk. We’ve had a raft of horrible bosses for 20 years now.)
See you on Saturday when I write a weekend coffee share because I’m avoiding finishing the book chapter. 😜