Her First Concert

Yesterday afternoon, Rhiannon and I were in a whirlwind.  We hastily finished evening barn chores (almost two hours early, to the delight of the goats), bathed, put on some fancy clothes (i.e. those not covered in bits of hay and dried chicken poop), a spritz of perfume and took off for town.

Rhiannon's never been to a concert, so she was pretty excited.  Heck, I was pretty excited.  It's not often we meet Paul for supper in town and then go to a concert.  The main parking lot was full so we had to hoof it a bit.  Which was fine as the weather was beautiful and I'm telling myself that the exertion burned off some of the cheeseburger I scarfed down just a half hour earlier.

I got extra exercise as well since I had to leave Paul and Rhiannon in the main lobby in order to run back to the car to retrieve the tickets.  Which I purposely placed on the dashboard so that I wouldn't forget them.  At least I didn't leave them at home; I would have hated for Rhiannon to be late for her first concert:

Just kidding.  Although, can you imagine Paul at a boy band concert?

Me neither.

But seriously, we did take Rhiannon to her first concert last night, but it was much better (and probably much classier) than Beiber.  Well, I'm assuming it was better....I've honestly never heard a single note from that Justin kid.  I'm sure we're not missing anything.

The local college auditorium occasionally hosts musical groups or bands, but this was the first I heard of a piano and violin recital.  When I found out about it, I jumped on the phone and ordered tickets.  Very reasonably priced at $10 for adults and $5 for students.

Tatiana Roitman Mann in blue (Pianist),
Tien-Hsin Cindy Wu (Violinist/Violist) in pink.

We were treated to close to an hour & a half of beautiful classical music and the womens' performance was spectacular.  We heard pieces from Beethoven, Dvorak, Debussy, Stravinsky and Brahms.  I didn't want it to end.  But as they say, all good things must come to an end.  Who the hell said that anyhow?  Like, really?  Do good things really have to end?  Why doesn't it go, "All bad things must come to an end"?   Seems more fitting if you asked me.  Which you didn't.

So even though we live in what seems like the middle of nowhere, we do have some culture in this little hick town.  Just make sure you knock the dried-up chicken poop off your boots and put on a shirt that doesn't smell like buck pee on your way off the ol' homestead.