So I’m on my sixth trumpet player already. No, no, sorry no, and no, sorry. That’s all I’ve heard since my guy bailed (via a message through someone else) yesterday. It’s amazing how one domino in the line — one stone thrown in the pond — can affect everything else. I could just scream. I mean, really. So I call the guy, and he says, “I can play the show; I just can’t play on Saturday.”
So if any of you could fly out to Finkville on Saturday, 7 November, to play our 2:00 show, that would be outstanding. I have the other 3 shows covered by someone else (thank the Lord for him), but he cannot make the matinee. Come on, Suzanne. You’re a trumpet player. What’s the airfare from Amsterdam to Cleveland? Couldn’t be more’n a couple-a grand. Help a sister out here.
I’m just a bit tetchy today. Up since 4, battling that which I cannot control. I hate not having control of my stuff, you know? Ah well, no matter. I will see some good fiends today. I’ll also see baby boy Lars when he comes to pick me up to go to rehearsal. Haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks, and we live on the same flippin’ street. Life is crazy, I tell ya.
I guess I shouldn’t be so hard on my erstwhile 2nd trumpet player. He’s a really nice young man; a stand-up guy who didn’t see a conflict coming. I suppose if I simply went without a 2nd player in the matinee, the world would still spin and we’d make it to the end of the afternoon alive. It’s just that I really hate that idea.
Tetchy. It’s the word o’ the week. Good mouth feel. Sounds like a swear word, but isn’t, so it’s a good value for your anger buck. Thumbs up.