Mid-January, Rain - January 13, 2012 |
March 06, 2004 Welcome, Sprite WELL. This has been a momentous week, I must say. Our new Avalon guitars arrived Thursday and I picked mine up at the band's house yesterday. It's a small body (as my other one is a small jumbo), very sweet and pristine. They made a few errors in the order - these are custom guitars, so we were able to name our options - including forgetting to put on a pick guard (big whoops - they were rather mortified to find that out) and using the wrong tuning pegs, but I've suggested solutions that don't involve sending it back to Northern Ireland. I don't want to send the guitar back. I guess I could, and have them make me another one (the purfling was also the wrong wood), but I loved it in about 5 minutes and I knew I wanted to keep it. By the time I got home I had named it, so it's not possible to part with it now. What's that? Oh. It's called Puck. I think it's a girl dressed as a boy, actually. My other is called Ganymede (or sometimes Rosalind) so I guess that sort of thing runs in the family. They look gorgeous together, like two sisters. Chris's is the big brother. Carol's is similar to Ganymede only it's not a cutaway. Somehow we'll tell them all apart. My inner conservationist is alive and well, until I see these old-wood instruments, these wonders of acoustic magic that will never come again, like gatherings of close friends you must enjoy while they last, and then only remember. When I play them softly, I cannot hear the protests of indignant environmentalists. ********** In other news, I've ordered a new laptop. It's like waiting for Harry's latest new broom to arrive. I expect my Quiddich game will vastly improve. ********** Taxes almost done, just waiting for some numbers from Carol, and must peek into the closet to complete CD inventory. Car inspection this morning. CT hasn't done this in a couple of years; I forget why they stopped, but now it's starting up again (new/improved/more convenient) and I'm actually doing it several weeks before the deadline. C'n you imagine? And so must get ready, or leave in pajamas and bed hair. |
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