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The musicians left today. Our house is strangely empty without snatches of random symphony drifting occasionally through the air.

About a week ago, somebody emailed us to ask if we could host a musician while they were in the area for a music festival with The American Wind Symphony Orchestra. We said yes, we'd take ONE. They gave us two because we also said that I play oboe and my sister French horn. We had an oboeist and one French horner. Great. Then we got another oboe because she had been assigned to somebody living in Ohio and was spending most of her time in a car, not practicing, and was having a rough time. Still fine, really, because we were sort of mad at the district. The email had probably been sent to most people in the school band, and we were one of few families to respond. The rich idiots of Pine-Richland need a good hiding, I think. A large group of people were staying at a Comfort Inn. To those people, Marizabelle, Laura, and Melissa bragged about my my mom's cooking.

Marizabelle is from Puerto Rico and thinks my teacher makes funny reeds. She gave me lessons and I found out that all my problems are cause by my biting too hard.

Laura is from Kansas and likes horses. She's the French horn. When she met Marizabelle, it turned out that they knew all of each other's friends. They gossiped until midnight.

Melissa is a quiet vegeterian. I don't know what she thought of my teacher's reeds.

They talked about the director of the band alot, because he's crazy. His name is Robert Boudreau, and he's a Knight of Sweden. The band practiced in his "private ampetheatre," which is more like a dugout shed. It rained, and the oboeists were on edge constantly trying to keep their instruments from splitting in half. The brass acted all superior until the woodwinds mentioned lightening. Anyway, they were supposed to have a concert. They didn't, becasue it rained. They have now gone off to Lancaster for the next stage of their tour. We're going to try and see them when they're in Maine, because we will be too.

Marizabelle said that in Puerto Rico, they have cockaroaches that fly. My mom squirmed.

I go to Winds and Jazz in June next week. It should be a blast. It was last year. This year they only have one other oboe, though, and a mob of flutes and clarinets. And four (or five) people that nobody knows what they play. Whatever.

Maybe I'll keep a running log. Maybe I won't.