today
- read Beaumarchais play I couldn't help hearing the major musical scenes in my head as I read the play, lol.

I think I'm going to do doubles for Bikram next week to make up for the four days that I'm not practicing yoga. It will take extra willpower to go to manage my time well so that 1) I get everything that needs to be done for class on or ahead of time, so 2) I can go to bed early, so 3) I can get up that early in the mornings. But I surmise that it will work out just fine.

I also realized that it's a good thing I practiced two hours the other day. I could theoretically take two days off practicing this week, since I almost always take one day off practicing. (I regularly practice about an hour a day in terms of solo voice rep and going over choir music on my own, not counting soprano sectional rehearsal or daily vocal ensemble rehearsal time.) But if I wanted to practice, I could, since Maria has a piano.

This morning I woke up with a start and saw the sunlight filtering into the bedroom in which I'm staying this weekend. I feared it was late. When I finally pulled myself out of bed and looked at my cell phone, it was hardly 8:40. I guess I'm so used to waking up early, earlier than that now.

And I had cereal for breakfast for the first time in awhile! Mmm. I was planning on having one of the peaches Maria and her mother bought yesterday, but I was so full after the several bowls of cereal that I decided to wait. Lunch was a slice of Italian cream cake. Mmm. Perhaps I will have the peach later, after all.

Maria and I were sitting in the living room earlier, she transposing a viola part from C to G-clef, I reading the beginning of a performable English translation of Le mariage de Figaro, as BBC America's You Are What You Eat was playing in the background. The host was mentioning something about which pig parts go into hot dogs... and she had a bowl of pigs' ears and snouts. That were still hairy. Ew. I don't eat hot dogs anymore, and if I had any doubt about changing my mind, I don't now.

This morning the sky was bright, and everything seemed calm. Now the trees are rustling more, the poolwater is rippling, and the sky is grayer.

Back to Beaumarchais. Even if I'm reading it in English and not in French (that might take a bit longer because my French is a bit rusty), I'm seeing the similarities and differences and after I read the Da Ponte libretto without hearing the music (Figaro was the first opera I ever saw, at the Met, when I was 13, and I've seen it live or on DVD several times), I think I want to pick up another book on the collaboration between Mozart and Da Ponte in writing the opera. Then perhaps I'll be more ready to answer the Stanislavsky-based questionnaire focused on Susanna. Toodles.