All it needs is a nice polishing, and at least it’ll look good. HA. I love this instrument, actually. A Strad copy built in 1968 by Roth (so I come down on the German side of the whole German vs. Italian violin thing), my parents bought it for me when I was in the 3rd grade, and I’ve played it somewhat regularly over the decades — with its original pernambuco bow — ever since. I do need a rehair, though, yikes.

I studied privately, nonstop (including summers, grrr) from 1968-1977, when I graduated high school. I hated practicing (then as now), but I have to admit I love playing it — now that I don’t *have* to.

For being a “student model” violin, it has an amazingly warm, full, dark tone, and I wouldn’t trade its color and sound for the world, or for its brighter, more bell-like Italian relatives. It’s like an extension of me after 40-some years, and I hope to play it for many more to come.

Speaking of playing, I suppose I ought to think about warming up the fingers and arms. Many hours to go before I collapse back here late tonight after cleaning the reception hall, post-party. Papa Thriller is looking forward to getting gussied up and giving away the bride; it will be a fun day.

Laissez nous rouler!

1. Appointments in Vermilion, Mansfield and points elsewhere — check.
2. Practicing done, fingerings marked, order determined — check.
3. Dress bought — yikes.
4. Extra set of violin strings, just in case — oy.
5. Wedding programs folded — nope.

I see I’m not quite done yet. But getting there! I may not have a moment to post this weekend, but I will try over coffee. In case I don’t, however, everyone is assigned to a great weekend — finklove to all.

Do you ever chronicle your thoughts at a given time? I woke up at 2:30 this morning, but didn’t get out of bed until 3:15. In that 45-minute span, I had some definitely random NFs:

• Prince Charles will likely be outlived by his mother, and therefore never have the chance to be king.
• The windows in our 2nd floor bedrooms are likely 40 years old.
• How exactly do phones recharge?
• I wonder what’s the best way to transport cake pops.

There were probably more bizarre thoughts, but these are the only ones I remember. And now it’s 4:51 a.m. and of course, I am ready to go back to bed. But no! My alarm (which is still upstairs, dangit) will go off in 9 minutes, and it’ll be time to get ready to shape young voices, one wrong note at a time.

Have a great Monkday — a short week for me this time around, yay!