Have beard, will play with beard

And, just like that, here we are – seven months into our European adventure.  Save for ten whirlwind days in the states, we’ve been in lovely BaWu (Baden-Württemberg) through a cold, rainy “winter” and into a beautiful, sunny, pollinated spring.  I still don’t understand Celsius, so telling me its going to be a lovely 20 degrees simply doesn’t compute.  

There have been family and friend visits, sightseeing, exploring local flavors and several jaunts to France for chocolate and cheese and  saucisse, but don’t think for a minute that this is a vacation.  It’s hard to describe this to family and friends, but it sunk in pretty hard a few months ago that we’re not going back to the States anytime soon. By association, I’ve been participating in the real life of a working professional opera singer and it isn’t all galas and exotic destinations, fancy people and Art.  Some of that is there, indeed, but along with that is the regular stuff – insurance and balancing the checkbook and going to the grocery store, and generally being a foreigner, which sometimes draws the ire of the locals.

Occasionally, music is written.  I’ve completed and shipped the choral piece and a saxophone quartet so far this year and am working toward a April 1 deadline for these lovely folks.  I counted them up, and I’m about halfway through the 23 performances I’m scheduled for this season. Plus I’m rocking a whoop-ass beard.

I’ve talked, and written, and read about lifelong attempts at discipline. There’s a lot to do when you are trying to maintain a foothold on one side of the Atlantic and gain one on the other. I’m 172 Chorales into the 371, which isn’t a daily practice, but a several-times-a-week one.  I’d say that this blog is part of that daily, (or at least several-times-a-week – there it is again) discipline, but I’ve said that before. And, I guess I’m saying that again.  



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