Monday, January 31, 2005

unroselike Rose City

My local tap water is not bad, really. It's nice to be home to drink it again. Windsor tap water, which I have been consuming since Thursday, smells like a swimming pool.

Windsor itself smells like something else entirely. The Hiram Walker distillery occasionally sends a whiff of sour mash into town. Then I get little blasts of an different odour that I've noticed since I started going to Windsor seven years ago - it's a bit like cinnamon cookies. It comes and goes, pops up all over town, and seems to be entirely random. I like it. I've only smelled it in Windsor, and I have no idea whatsoever what it is. Maybe the sweat of Michigan teens who cross the border to drink on weekends?

Anyway, I had a good gig there. How I love playing English horn. Expressiveness comes easily to me whan I play it, likely because the instrument shares a range with my singing voice.

The low point of the weekend came when I visited my aunt. I wasn't inside her apartment door more than five seconds when she said, "My! You've gained weight!" As she is normally the kindest lady on earth, I was stunned. I won't recount the hundred and nine reasons that that is a terrible thing to say, as I think they are obvious. I will say that if she gained a hundred pounds I wouldn't say a word. That's how I was raised.

Weight loss is on her mind. Once quite chubby - much, much more so than I have ever been - she actually lost forty pounds over the past year through the wonder that is the South Beach Diet. So I had my revenge by savouring my enormous bowl of bad-carb-loaded seafood linguine when I took her out to dinner.

Happy to be home. I have four days here before I head off to teach at a band camp. Then I have only two more days at home to work on my "This one time? at Band Camp?" stories before returning to Windsoria to play a great deal of music for accordion and orchestra. Bow in envy.

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