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When Good Tuesdays Go Bad


It seemed like a good day for practice. I spent the last two weeks working on my intonation, playing rounds until I feared my neighbors would file a petition. I also discovered Scout had a great singing voice. For a dog. I learned to jump from D to E with grace, I even trained my pincky to curve and stretch in a manner one would find very painful. In fact, I had been looking forward to this night, dreaming of dazzling my instructor, the woman who waits for her daughter in the hallway every tuesday, even the chubby ballerinas in the studio downstairs with my skill.

No such luck.

After 45 minutes of what might be described as the worst slurring known to the Suzuki world, we called it a night. Cynthia smiled patiently at me, and swore for the umpteenth time that I sounded just fine. And as I left the room I realized the pimply teenage boy waiting outside for his cello lesson was smirking. Paranoia set in, and I slunk off to my car.

There's always next week...



1 comments:

Karen said...

Heather is the bestest violin player ever, don't listen to what she is saying here!!!!