What a combination! It's enough to leave me in a permanently exhausted state. Below, an explanation of all of these feelings.
Even if all you've read of this blog is the front page, you will know I love this time of year. Christmas music--choral, pop, instrumental, whatever--makes me happy. I've had iTunes on my holiday playlist since a few days before Thanksgiving.
This afternoon, Stockton Chorale and Stockton Symphony teamed up for our Holiday Pops concert. It was marvelous! The symphony did Leroy Anderson's Sleigh Ride. I had to bite my lip to keep from giggling out loud from the sheer joy. The sopranos were behind the percussion section, so I was delighted to watch the woodblocks become horse hooves, and to anticipate the CRACK! of the whip. The principal trumpet player made the famous neighing sound. The woodwinds trilled and glissed their way through a piece I've played so many times, I can sing those inner parts in my sleep.
We had two audience sing-alongs, and watching the audience enjoy themselves made it so much fun for me on stage.
Santa came out and joked with the conductor and our visiting tenor soloist. What is his favorite music?
We sang O, Holy Night (a personal favorite) and Fum, Fum, Fum. The Stockton Youth Chorale sang three selections from The Polar Express. I delighted in their pure voices, and the littlest member of the group. Every time we have a concert, I see her and I just want to put her in my pocket. She's a fourth grader, but she's tiny. And adorable. She always stands in front of the soprano section, and we all whisper, "Isn't she cute?!"
We ended the show with the Hallelujah Chorus (of course!), and it was marvelous to hear the strings and the oboes and the trumpets play with us.
All in all, a wonderful show. I could tell that the audience loved every minute.
But halfway through, during one of the numbers the kids were singing, I sat in my chair and looked at my lap. There was a single little white cat hair.
That was a bad moment. The audience couldn't see me, thankfully. I didn't cry, but for a moment, I thought I might. Fortunately, I was able to push it aside and go on with the show, but I was very glad for the intermission.
I kept the cat hair on my dress. No one could see it, and it made me feel like I had a little bit of Millie with me. Silly, yes, but whatever it takes.
I got through the bad moment and enjoyed the rest of the show. It didn't hurt that since our first dress rehearsal on Thursday night, I've been eyeing a chaud violoncelliste (hot cellist--I just discovered the language translator on iGoogle) from my vantage point in the choir. The man is...gorgeous. All smoldering eyes and curly hair that makes a girl want to attack him just to run her hands through it...and his hands! Good Lord, watching him play his cello...
I have myself under control now.
Anyway, I tend to be shy with guys. I can flirt when there's nothing at stake, but when there is--watch me freeze.
Yesterday during a break in our rehearsal, I (somewhat) boldly walked down to the audience area and sat smack dab in front of him with my book, and proceeded to read and peek at him for a good 15 minutes, only stopping when a fellow soprano came by to ask about Millie. I don't know if he noticed or not, and I had no reason to talk to him while he was warming up.
And, of course, music concerts don't lend themselves to much onstage flirting. We sort of have a more important job to do.
But tonight, after the concert, I happened to be walking out the exit just in front of him. I made a point of turning around to say something to a fellow Chorale singer, just to glance at Cello Hottie.
"Is it raining?"
My fellow singer responded, "My wife said it is. Guess we'll be getting wet."
"Ahh, well, a little rain never hurt me!"
So I stepped outside, trying to gracefully lift my skirt as I walked up some stairs towards the parking lot. The effect was marred, slightly, when I walked across some soggy grass and my feet sunk a little in some muck.
"Eeugh..." I muttered. Seconds later, just as I realized Cello Hottie was right behind me on the grass, my sentiment was echoed.
I turned around and laughed. "I know!" He smiled.
Gah. Yeah, great smile, too.
I mentioned that the symphony was marvelous, and how excited I was to learn, when I moved here in July, that we even have one in Stockton. He thanked me, and said, "Come see us play sometime."
"Oh, I will!"
Yes, I will.
As he walked one direction and I another, he smiled again and said, "Happy Holidays."
"You, too! Good night."
Not much of a conversation, perhaps, but, hey, I spoke to him!
Now I'm home. I've got a little dude curled up on the couch behind me. I know if I turn around and pet him, he will prove he is well-named by purring like a little motorcycle. He is so very sweet, but even in the sweetness, there's the bitterness of missing my Millie and worrying about her.
If I have my way, she'll be home tomorrow, much improved and happy to have a little nap on my bed. I leave it in God's hands...and continue to hope and think happy thoughts. It's the only thing I have control over.