After having a few slugs of my Diet Coke, it occurred to me that indeed, something was new. I told her I had received an email late Friday night for an upcoming gig. And then I started laughing and laughing and laughing, because the combination of what it was and where it was was so unbelievable, I couldn't do anything else BUT laugh.
Finally I pulled myself together enough to say, "Well, it's Bach."
Let me explain where Beaver Island is. First, pull out your travel map of the mitten (right hand, palm facing you, fingers together, but thumb out). I live approximately half an inch down from the center of the palm. Now. To get to Beaver Island, travel from where I live to the tip of the pinky.
Continue moving approximately three inches northwest from that point, and right next to BFE Island is Beaver Island. HA!
(insert your punchline here)
TinyTuna started in with "Beeeeeavveeeer IIiiiiislaaaaand" ... "Beeeeeavveeeer IIiiiiislaaaaand" ... "Beeeeeavveeeer IIiiiiislaaaaand." I looked over at her and said, "This is Bach, not Scooby-Doo." GramTuna just shook her head through the rest of breakfast and muttered, "No other family would ever be having this conversation. Why can't we be normal?" TinyTuna answered, "Beeeeeavveeeer IIiiiiislaaaaand" which made us laugh all the harder.
So with score in hand, I'm getting ready to go to "Beeeeeavveeeer IIiiiiislaaaaand" on July 29th. I just need to figure out, what does one wear when one sings Bach to the Beavers?
Not a graphic for my gig, but too good to pass up.