Faces? You want faces?

Well, here they are. A day of tootling, toddling & stitching awaits.

As wonderful as it is to hear the BSO, I have to confess to a certain amount of pain as well: there in piccolo position is a woman I knew when she was an undergraduate @ Carnegie Mellon and last I knew was in a small orchestra in Ohio, and the 2nd flute pro-tem is occupied by a woman I was literally head to head with for a position with Boston's Civic Symphony. I also have to admit to a certain amount of depression - which, if it's really anger turned inward, must be at the life choices I made that have me in the audience while they're up on stage (not to mention pulling down over $100K/year for the privilege.) I struggle to remember the Desiderata's dictum not to compare oneself to others, and think it's providential that I was unable to get to sleep last night and so slept in a bit this AM so I was doing my morning ablutions during a radio segment interviewing a New Orleans musician. His parting words to the interviewer "remember that your worst day can be a blessing because you might learn something from it." So I strive (to avoid using the word "try" since a therapist once told me that "try is a fail word") to find the lesson in that pain. Perhaps it's as simple as "count your blessings."