Kid sized Tupperward

My friend Liz tells me I can become the richest Tupperware lady on the block if I market my elementary school sized bin. I use the bin to put Jonathan in when he starts warming up for a tantrum. It is big enough that his little head sticks out the top and he can stretch out. It stops everyone in their tracks and he starts to laugh. If you want such a bin you merely have to order grocery delivery from Charlottesville’s new amazing retail relay which can bring organic vegetables, Trader Joe’s brownie mix and a child container. They do not yet have a bin large enough for husbands. Rebecca meanwhile continues on her search for a “real” magic set. She remains extremely disappointed that the one she received as a gift does not allow her to turn her brother into a rabbit. She knows that with the proper props and outfits this can be done and has been working sort of obsessively on acquiring thing to get the job done. She seems to have missed the memo that people like Kircehr started sending out in the seventeenth century which explained that magic involves TRICKS. My showing her pictures of 17th century illustrations of such tricks did nothing to ease her pain.

In other news my undergrads gave me a disdainful scoff when I admitted I was not familiar with Beyonce’s “single girls” This followed somehow from a discussion of timbre in performances of Schuman’s Frauenliebe und Leben” (A 19th century male fantasy of a woman’s life) They seemed to think that Beyonce enacts the modern version—not sure how Clara would feel about that. The fact that in preparation for my talk on Friday I have acquainted myself with the delightfully boring music of Campioni seemed not to impress them. They were equally unmoved by my delight over Thomas Morley’s part book format musical examples.