Solidarity at the symphony...

Marie went to the symphony tonight, using the companion ticket the Fort Wayne Philharmonic sent me.  It was not until after we were inside that I noticed her act of mercy.

Solidarity at the symphony!

The past two performances, I have worn more bulking clothing, slipping back in my tendency to hide.  Lying in bed last night, I thought of the outfit I used for all those horrid work Christmas parties that I had to attend.  I thought that it would be appropriate attire that was also more ... normal.

I think I have written this before, but if you see me wearing my pearls, you know that I am either feeling rather wretched or rather ill and want to appear otherwise.

The music?  Well, it was simply wonderful.

I am still in love with Hanson. I would still like to have the MP3 file of his Symphony No. 2, Romantic.  However, I very much savored Tchikovsky's Symphony No. 2 in C minor, op. 17 (Little Russian), which was the final piece of the evening.

Once again, I was struck by how very beautiful the French horn was, something I never really thought could play ... beautifully.  And, in this piece, there were portions where the tuba rocked the moment.  The tuba!!  

We were at Indiana Purdue Fort Wayne's music center, instead of the Embassy Theatre, so the experience was somewhat different for me.  For one, I was so cold that I had chills running up and down my entire body the entire time.  I was rather distracted and was a tad worried about my feet.  At intermission, Marie went and fetched her coat from the coat room so that I could wear it as a bit of a blanket.  She also piled her hat, gloves, and scarf in my lap, for added warmth, and I put on my scarf and gloves.  Since I was wearing a jacket, I did not wear a coat.  That was a huge mistake.  HUGE.  But being warm at the Embassy Theatre has been a problem since the first performance and I never thought that it would be cold tonight.

I learned something about Marie, which makes me realize how much she knows about me and how little I know about her.  I was smitten by that lack of knowledge and would like to focus more, during our time together, getting to know her better.  In any case, she played the violin for ten years!

Now, me?  I just love the violin.  There were 31 violins at the last performance, and, while I could not count because of the viewing angle, tonight had a good violin representation.  However, the other main piece of the evening was Elgar's Concert ion E minor for Violoncello & Orchestra.  Marie?  She loves the cello!

That viewing angle was the other prime difference.  The Embassy Theatre seating is more vertical, whereas IPFW's seating is more horizontal.  So, I could not see all the instruments of follow clearly who was playing what.  There was one of those segments of haunting tones I tried to track down all through Tchaikovsky's work.  I finally narrowed it down to the guy with the beard, but I could not tell if he was playing a clarinet or an oboe.  

Now, I am an oboe kind of girl, but Hanson has completely changed my mind about the clarinet.  I am hoping that, at the next performance, I might remember to look for the man with the beard and see which instrument he plays.  I like ferreting out the sounds that I am hearing, concentrating on the music and the players.

Marie preferred Elgar, as does Andrew Constantine (the conductor), clearly!  Since this was the audience choice night, there were no performance notes in the program.  That was no problem, since the conductor spent the evening giving them to us.  He stated boldly that Elgar was the greatest person ever born!  A true fan.

What I thought about the piece is that it was sort of like one of those patterned dances that you see in Victorian era movies.  I felt that it had patterns all throughout it, but did not actually tell a story the way so many pieces do.  The conductor said that Elgar wrote the symphony at the end of World War I, and he was feeling as if the world was coming to an end of sorts.  His world.  The world he knew.  Something.  That sorrow, that loss, was laced throughout the movements.  At least, that is what I heard.  That was the music for me.

Marie was so very happy to have the cello soloist and all those cellos playing with her.  It was a cello fest sublime.

The other two pieces were:  Rossini's Overture to William Tell and some Bernstein (selections from West Side Story).  For a girl who grew up watching The Lone Ranger Rossini was a bit nostalgic.  The Lone Ranger and The Rifleman.  Good times.  But I digress.  I cannot remember when or where, but I recognized Tchaikovsky's symphony.  At times, I found myself humming the notes without knowing how it was that I know them.

Despite the anxiety over what I was wearing and despite the terrible bout of chills, I loved going to the symphony with Marie.  I had so much fun sharing the music and the notes and the instruments and the awe that is having your very being filled with classical music with someone who loves the symphony as much as I do.

Snowmageddon 2014 Take Four started as we were leaving, beginning with freezing rain.  Since Marie lives near IPFW, I drove to her apartment, she drove us to and from IPFW, and the I drove myself home.  Over slippery streets.  Slowly.  Very, very, very slippery streets.  I was glad to arrive home safely.

Amos, of course, was also glad that I was home.  Despite spending the day with my body tucked around his (both awake and asleep), we were both already in the throes of withdrawal.  I don't know what's going on with him, but I am in great need of comfort.

Christ be praised, the Larin FE really seems to be working.  If I didn't go by the fact that my nails are no longer stubs broken off beneath my fingertips, I could go by the fact that I have made it through some tough times, both bad news and distress.

It still boggles my mind that Medicare will not cover blood sugar testing supplies since I do not have diabetes.  Reactive hypoglycemia is not considered ... well, I am not even sure. I just don't understand.  I can die if my blood sugar drops too low and testing is a part of ensuring that doesn't happen.  

I simply cannot afford to buy my own supplies to test the way that I have been ... or the way that I need to when I am having those bouts where nothing seems to bring my blood sugar back up.  I did, after wallowing a bit, find a way to get a free monitor.  Since my new one walked away during the construction last summer, I have been relying on one that was 5 years old.  I have been Googling the most economical way to get the strips and am trying to figure out what is the most I could afford a month ... or quarter.  I also used the new email system to contact the female surgeon about switching my thyroid medication to generic.  I am so darned sensitive to medications that I have held off doing so, but the pharmacist said I could save $18 a month by making the change. 

Thursday night, I was so distressed over the social interaction that I had dangerously high blood sugar.  Yes, high.  Though I was worried, at first, I thought about the times I was in the hospital and my blood sugar then and realized that it was a stress reaction.  I took Zofran and waited.  How strange is it that both high and low blood sugar makes me nauseous??

Anyway, there has been several ... hurdles ... of late.  Not the least of them realizing that I did not properly read the tax program summary page when I was calculating what I would owe for next year. I will be about $1,400 short.  Being bound and determined not to raid retirement again, I have been crunching numbers non-stop to figure a way to shave $100 a month for the next 14 months.  I also just learned that since I pulled the money out, I need to make quarterly tax payments so as to avoid penalties, since America is apparently a "pay-as-you-go" country.  So, I have to learn about that and remember to make them.  I cannot wait for 2015, when my world is ... simpler.

No, I do not have the paid off promissory note yet.

No, I do not have the title paperwork yet.

No, I do not officially own my home yet ... despite making the transfer January 2nd.

Tonight, there was a moment of panic in which tears fell.  The Fort Wayne Philharmonic was supposed to provide valet parking at IPFW for handicapped patrons.  However, when we arrived, there was no valet parking.  The provider did not show up and the Fort Wayne Philharmonic did not have a contingency plan ... or make one.  Nor did it put up signs.  And, so, by the time I figured that out, we were short on time and the thought of being separated from Marie and having to find her again after she drove back to the parking garage, parked, and hoofed it back started that downward spiral of panic.

I rehearse everything.  I rehearse going places, conversations, and even problem-solving.  Change is hard.  Having to face something un-rehearsed is very, very, very difficult for me.  Even un-rehearsed parking.  SIGH.

I did need Amos to wipe the tears from my cheeks whilst Marie was parking, but she did so in record time.  Getting to our seats was difficult ... lots of standing and waiting and shuffling along.  However, at intermission, we found another way that included an elevator.  So, leaving was easy.  

And joyous.

The music was beautiful.

The nails were merciful. 

Solidarity at the symphony.  A gift from my Good Shepherd.

I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!