decor.

Totally randomly before I fall face-first into bed.

Two things I have always wanted for my walls are these:

1. a south-superior map of the world, ideally a Peters projection but really anything but Mercatur will be a good start; only it has to be a good size to fit the wall I want to put it on, and I'd like it to be just a map and not have a ton of Other Stuff around the edges; and I'd like it to just be what it is and not be all caught up in the gimmick of it, so the one I keep finding that says "What's up? South!" is a no-go. Buying a Peters map and hanging it upside-down is also not a solution I've found acceptable.
   
2. a poster of the last moment from The Truman Show where Jim Carrey has hit the far horizon, had his cry out, spoken to Ed Harris, and said to the whole world, "Good afternoon, good evening, and good night"; so this would be a poster of the far horizon, i.e. the blue sky with clouds, and - this is the crucial bit - the staircase leading up to the door Truman left through. I don't want any people in it. I don't even want Truman's boat. I just want the exit door.

In all my searches, I've never found either of these. It turns out that being an American citizen with a credit card can't really get you everything you want, at least not immediately.

that's one.

Chorus Master T found me after the show and said great job on the top C-flat. (Me: "Thank you. I liked it." Him: "I did, too." [g])

I clipped a picture of my grandparents in my folder as a sort of talisman for the Kaddish symphony, and it was kind of awesome.

Three curtain calls, which isn't as many as Alexander Dane got for playing Richard III, but still not at all shabby. :-)

Dr. Samuel Pisar, the narrator of the Kaddish (reading a text Bernstein himself asked him to write in replacement of Bernstein's original, which everyone - Bernstein included - seems to have thought was kind of crap), signed my score. I'd told him my great-grandmother came from the same town in Poland as he did (and he asked me what her name was - which was utterly charming, and I told him, but I also told him my own grandfather was born in 1924 in New York, so his mother would have left the old country long before he, Pisar, was born), and he wrote "for [my name] - my fellow Bialystoker."

There's not enough ♥ in the world.