— My husband
Effective marital communication now includes re-framing your gripes into statements such as:
"It would be really sexy if you got your shit together."
I had a few high schoolers complain that they didn’t feel challenged enough by our a cappella arrangements.
A) arranged “Halo” by Beyonce
B) added a bridge with a bunch incorporating hemiola, the potential for a solo ad lib up in whistle tone (believe it or not my high schoolers can do that), and ending with a measure of harmonized, ascending sixteenth note melismas
C) Recorded all the learning tracks. So I’m tired.
Today I got a production binder with the words “music direction by” with my name following it. THINGS ARE HAPPENING IN MY LIFE, GUYS. It’s only taken four years post college to like, move an inch. And how the hell could I have predicted that the theatre would take me back?
Lymph nodes are great for when you want to occasionally think that you have neck cancer.
Reblogging because, thanks to my shoddy lymph nodes, I spent half of 2013 getting tested for cancers I don’t have.