10 October 2003 - 9:11 p.m.
(Cubs up 1-0, top of the 2nd.)
Husband on the other couch, Abby half-asleep at our feet. We'd both planned on being out elsewhere tonight, but were both at our laptops way too late last night, him collating stuff for work, me tightening up an old poem and expanding a new one. The week's stats: two poems sold, six poems rejected, one poem withdrawn, six poems mailed out. Heap many revisions ahead.
(Cubs up 2-0, still top of the 2nd, Lofton up at bat.)
(Marlins score. Now it's 2-1, top of the 3rd, Sosa at bat. Sosa just struck out.)
Hit some high G's reading second soprano on Weelkes' "The Nightingale" earlier this week. Need to practice so I can nail them singing actual words ("cuck-oo") instead of resorting to "ahhh." Still, nice to know that I haven't completely lost my top notes singing tenor. Still, there's only so many hours in a day.
(Still, how often do the Cubs make it to the playoffs? Now top of the 4th, still 2-1.)
Faure on the radio, Charlie Haden and Egberto Gismonti on CD (Montreal Jazz Festival, 1989 - double bass and guitar/piano). Meatball pizza.
Fred Schero, quoted in the latest Twice Weekly Letter from Robert Genn: ""Success is not the result of spontaneous combustion. You must first set yourself on fire." And from calligrapher Peter Thornton, quoted in the September - October 1994 issue of Handscrit: "Whining is a sort of arrogance. It implies it should be easy."
(Whew. Wood just struck out Rodriguez. Top of the 6th, still 2-1. A quick two outs, though. . .and there goes number three.)
The battery gauge is now a slim sliver of red, so it's time to close the iBook and switch to crocheting. Go Cubs!
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