I came home from the ggreat wwhite ttundra of Lafayette, and I'm still chattering. My car gradually gained better aerodynamic qualities once I got to highway speed, which I felt rather disinclined to do, not only because of the possibility of ice chunks flying off my car, but because it was so cold...when I woke up Friday morning, the radio announcer blandly mentioned that it was 9 below zero.
Upon arrival here in Indianapolis, I noticed that, although not as much snow fell here, about halfway through all the snowfall, a good thick glazing of ice came down too. I staggered to my front door through the almost foot and a half of snow, punching awkwardly through the ice layer and trying to maintain my grip on all my stuff. This morning, to shovel the walks, I found that my snow shovel was all but useless on this mess, so I had no choice but to use the Mickey Mouse beach shovel that I bought way back when Kristen came to Indianapolis to visit, which was also the last time we had a snowstorm like this. The shovel, though small, is metal and won't leave you trying to wrench your back lugging 50 pounds of snow. So there I was, shoveling away with this little beach shovel, as the neighbors looked on.
Now, some men might feel rather inadequate or uncomfortable when people find out that they're using a shovel that is small. I, however, am quite proud of my small shovel and don't care who knows it. One can work just as much magic with a small shovel as others can with a larger one. But heaven knows having a smaller shovel is better than one that's too big that no one can do anything with.
As you can see, the snow is still drifting down. I've shoveled my walks and that's all I'm shoveling. I'll be heading to the store shortly so I can eat something other than frozen vegetables, which are, mind you, quite healthy, but rather unfulfilling.
In other news, I thought it might be interesting to put my student ID (and the subsequent substantial student discount for tickets) to good use, so I got up the nerve to see if I could start doing interviews for Musicweb International regarding performances at the Indianapolis Symphony, since we do occasionally get performers that show up there in Europe. I thought I'd try to get a few interviews or concert reviews written up first before submitting them to the website. I put my name in with the house manager and was told that I wouldn’t be able to talk to anyone until at least next week. Fine, I thought. Well, after the performance, I was walking to the Coat Check, when the coat check person pointed at me and said “Stay right there”—from there I was introduced curtly to some woman with PR and then dragged through a secret door I’d never seen in all my time there to the backstage area (which was quite posh in places), where, with dry mouth, I was suddenly deposited into the dressing room of the pianist, whose name, aside from Kirill, I had by then completely forgotten. I rifled through my scribbled notes and managed to ask him about 5 questions before he had his coat on. Not an auspicious beginning to my concert reporting career, but certainly an interesting end to the concert. Aside from the concertmaster and the conductor (to whom I nodded at as I slunk out), I believe I was the only one to shake the man’s hand.
Both Joe and Royce didn't like his performance at all--Royce saying that Kirill Gerstein played the Mendelssohn "like it was Liszt." and I made a note of "prosaic" which certainly wasn't positive. The house, perhaps due to the extreme cold and the snow piled up everywhere, was only half full, if that. Oh well, at any rate, I have the PR person's card, as well as that of the quite-young House Manager. I'll see if I can make more formal arrangements for next week.