Today was the last day of Rocky Mountain Summer Music Camp. C had a grand ol' time playing jazz piano and a mediocre ol' time playing some pretty lame-oid percussion parts in the large band. Now, she's off the whole "marimba or die" thing and on to the whole cool cat jazz thing. I must say, it has its virtues. As a percussionist, you're expected to haul all your massive gear but pianists are never asked to bring their own piano. OK, so C is actually all about learning to play the Hammond B-3 and sadly, I've seen the rig needed to gig with one of those and let's just say mama's gonna need to get a night job. Anyway... jazz good.
Read this post. I think if I would have had a blog when I married my husband I might have kept my venting isolated to the internet and I probably would have saved myself some emotional distress. Or you know, maybe not...
Tomorrow my wee little lady (A) has a birthday. She's turning 8. Having my kids get older beats the alternative by a mile (or 17,000,000) but it's always hard for me to grasp that she's getting big. She'll be on the big kid playground this year.
The big kid playground had better remember to wear a cup.
Sigh.
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