While David is away in meetings, I've been getting out all of my toys and playing with them. Back in Louisville, the piano was always there in the living room, along with a fiddle, bass, and guitar readily available on the dining room wall. Over here we don't have things like a guitar stand or a piano, which makes playing music more difficult than it should be. But several times this week, I've made a mess of our one-bedroom flat and strewn my accordion, saw, keyboard, and ukulele all about. It's been a good week.
I should lay off this whole writing-thing that I've been into lately and go back to playing. This morning I spent a little time with Bach and a little time with the Beatles and a little time with Bonnie Raitt (apologies to my new neighbors who may have looked through the window inquisitively when I was belting a ballad).
But speaking of Bonnie Raitt, a much more interesting blog for you to read would be Peter Cooper's blog over at The Tennessean. It's all about the birth of "I Can't Make You Love Me," and it even references Stephen Sondheim. Swoon! So you read that article, and I'm going back to my metronome.
I should lay off this whole writing-thing that I've been into lately and go back to playing. This morning I spent a little time with Bach and a little time with the Beatles and a little time with Bonnie Raitt (apologies to my new neighbors who may have looked through the window inquisitively when I was belting a ballad).
But speaking of Bonnie Raitt, a much more interesting blog for you to read would be Peter Cooper's blog over at The Tennessean. It's all about the birth of "I Can't Make You Love Me," and it even references Stephen Sondheim. Swoon! So you read that article, and I'm going back to my metronome.
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