Life has been extremely good lately. For starters, it's apricot season and we have more fresh apricots than we know what to do with. A tree down the street is dropping fruit and we got another bag from a co-worker. So far we've made apricot ice cream, an apricot gallette (kind of a cross between a pie and a tart) and I made apricot muffins the other day, which were a huge success at work. Dried apricots were tried today but they turned out very small and sour (kind of like one of our cats, except we don't try to eat her. . . much). And we still have a large container in the fridge and a huge basket on the counter. Maybe more muffins are in order. We might try canning or jelly-making if we get ambitious enough, but ambition has not been a buzzword in the house lately. For those of you interested in our various culinary endeavors, check out Milk and Honey, a blog recently started my roommate and fellow cook (especially Cooking with Jack, which details a wonderful dinner we fixed last weekend).
It's also been an operatic day. We're now lazily getting ready to go to a production of Handel's Agrippina, which I've heard good things about. And I like Handel, so it should be a good night all around. I finally listened to the first disc of Wagner's Parsifal this afternoon, which has, unfortunately, been in service as a paperweight on my desk for several weeks. I can't say it did much for me, especially after all the rave reviews I've heard of it. Listening to music, really listening to it, and not just using it as background noise, is hard for me to do with only me and the CD player. But I wanted to give Wagner a chance, since several people whose taste and judgment I trust like him very much. And to be fair the only exposure I've had to Wagner has been Tristan und Isolde at the end of a school year, after spending the semester analyzing Bach and Mozart. That went something like, "There's no chord structure here, it's all about sex, let's go play softball." Probably not the best approach. As an interesting observation on Wagner, however, I've noticed that, despite Nietzsche's whining about Wagner being all about emotion and therefore feminine and only for women, all the Wagner fans I've known have been men, for whatever that's worth.
But it seems the shower is free and we had attended to leave in ten minutes so this post will now come to an abrupt end.
It's also been an operatic day. We're now lazily getting ready to go to a production of Handel's Agrippina, which I've heard good things about. And I like Handel, so it should be a good night all around. I finally listened to the first disc of Wagner's Parsifal this afternoon, which has, unfortunately, been in service as a paperweight on my desk for several weeks. I can't say it did much for me, especially after all the rave reviews I've heard of it. Listening to music, really listening to it, and not just using it as background noise, is hard for me to do with only me and the CD player. But I wanted to give Wagner a chance, since several people whose taste and judgment I trust like him very much. And to be fair the only exposure I've had to Wagner has been Tristan und Isolde at the end of a school year, after spending the semester analyzing Bach and Mozart. That went something like, "There's no chord structure here, it's all about sex, let's go play softball." Probably not the best approach. As an interesting observation on Wagner, however, I've noticed that, despite Nietzsche's whining about Wagner being all about emotion and therefore feminine and only for women, all the Wagner fans I've known have been men, for whatever that's worth.
But it seems the shower is free and we had attended to leave in ten minutes so this post will now come to an abrupt end.
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