Dee Nai Yull

So I just signed up for some auditions. Maybe three.

I have done more not-practicing this summer than ever in my life as a violist. It feels gross, and I hated that last week my fingernails were long enough to have a white edge to them and the only reason I had to cut them was because it felt yucky. Not because it was interfering with any not playing I was doing.

There may be three (3!) children in my care by the end of next year. Will there be any time at all for me to do anything not related to them?

I am flooded with overwhelmed-ness and uncertainty even more this time around. I know some of that is the adoption possibility, but a lot belongs to the familiar wierdness of my pregnant body.

The spectre of labor is kind of scary. I really hated it last time, though (ready for something you've NEVER heard before from second-timers?) this time I will be requesting the Epidural early and often. Maybe that will help. And I'm going to be that demanding lady, asking for them to DO something about whatever's bothering me much much sooner.

So, I guess I better go play that viola thing a bit. One of the auditions is Saturday. It's like a reality tv experiment: Can this musician remember how to not suck after being isolated from her instrument for... a long time? We'll find out next week, so stay tuned. (Tuned. GAAAAaaaaaaaaaahhhhh. C'mon, I'm impared and barfy, don't leave. Please. Wait- it will get better.)