"No, it can't be the 7th...

... that's when the Messiah is."

Disclaimer: The point of this blog is not to point out the mistakes of my mother. It just happens that way sometimes.

We were supposed to go to the Messiah last night. I got all dressed up and purdy... even put on my awesome new dress coat. And mom picked me up and we went to the train station where dad had bought our tickets. And we sat on the train waiting for it to leave and we started having small talk. I mentioned that I was trying to figure out if anyone would go to the Vienna Boys Choir with me, and mom asked when it was. I said I thought it was the 7th, to which mom replied "it can't be the 7th, that's when the Messiah is." At which point we looked at each other and got off the train before it left and went home, found dad, and went out to dinner.

Looking at grad schools is getting frustrating. It's hard to find the "fill out this form so we'll send you gobs of information" links. I don't connect to a printer here, and I prefer rifling through papers and highlighting and making notes to reading information online. Besides, pamphlets put all the important information right where you can see it, instead of making you wade through pages and links and blah.

Alrighty, 16 more minutes of TV, then some tea, some piano practice, and I might even convince mom to take me to Music & Arts. Whoa. My stomach just gurgled... maybe I'll start the tea now...