Oooooh, man.

I was trying to look like a stern aunt.  Do you think I succeeded?

One thing’s for sure: I am officially growing a nose from my mother’s side of the family.  Behold the Mennonite strawberry nose.  Sigh.  Oh, neice, look at what you have to look forward to.  I once had a nose like yours.  Enjoy your nose in your youth.

My nephew the scientist, using the lab at his disposal …

—

In other news!

Christmas attacked me from behind, and once the wrapping paper had settled, I was able to relax into the notion that I had two whole weeks at my disposal.  I called Miss Good; we’re meeting tomorrow for lunch and we may go swimming too (I better shave).  Miss J called me; I visited her last night, and took her and Mr. Steadfast out for sushi.  I absolutely loved the sensation of picking up the tab; last year at this time, they were the working ones treating me, the student.  The tables have turned, and I am working, and they are both students.  It feels good to give back.  (But, they gave me their old vacuum cleaner last night!  I don’t have one – and I really need one …  So it’s still give and take … )Beyond that, it just felt good to TALK to them again.  I hadn’t since the summer, not really, anyway.  Mr. Steadfast gave me a copy of a piano piece he wrote, which I played as soon as I arrived at my parents’ house.  It’s a scherzo and it’s hilarious!  I am definitely going to trot that out at some recital or other.  I told him last night that I would like to commission a trio from him, something easy and evocative.  Rather than donate to random good musical causes, I would like to pay someone I know whose work I value to support new Canadian music.  It’s just a wee drop in a bucket, but who knows?  If my trio of students get exposed to something brand new by a living, breathing composer, perhaps it’ll stick in their memories and … well, who knows?  The other side of this is that Mr. Steadfast is good, but I fear that unless he has actual projects to write for, he will grow weary, just when he is on the verge of developing into something really extraordinary.  Miss J and I had breakfast together this morning and had a grand old yak, the kind I’ve missed.  I called KT, who is home for Christmas, and we’ve arranged to get a pedicure together on Saturday.  (For both of us, this is our second pedicure of our lives, and we’re very excited!)  You see, in our Betrayal Club, which started with the Mango, KT and I, the rule was that the first person to get a boyfriend had to treat the other two to dinner.  So, Mango took KT and I to Red Robin’s the first time we were all together in one city after the Chou swept her off her feet.  Then KT and I upped the stakes to a spa treatment, but it’s been so long, neither of us is even really bothering to check in with the other anymore about whether or not anyone’s dating, and this led to us deciding that, dammit, we’re going to enjoy the spa NOW, not wait for some male to give us the excuse.  I mean, at this rate we’ll be forty before anything else happens in the Betrayal Club.  None of our friends are holding their breaths.  Now, have I mentioned all the plans that have sprung up suddenly?

Tonight my mother’s harp ensemble gathered at one member’s (very large) house to eat, drink, jam, and be merry.  It was a wonderful success.

Here’s the funny bit.

Well, one funny bit.

Flashback seven years: I am 20 and having private theory lessons with U at his house by the sea.  My mother, also taking theory lessons with U at this time, drives us there once a week, staying in the car for the first half hour while I have my lesson (the light’s better outside for her needlepoint, apparently), then coming in for her lesson while I do my college homework on U’s couch, behind my mother’s chair.

One day Mom looks at me over her teacup (why I remember that detail, I don’t know) and announces: "Music Shivers, I think U likes you."

It’s something I’ve hardly admitted to myself at the time.  "L-l-likes me?  As a student?  Oh, well, I like him as a teacher, very much in fact, I … "

"No," Mom says, "I mean likes you.  Romantically.  During my lesson, he is always looking past me at you on his couch.  Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep there behind me – I’m sure it’s an irresistible sight for him."

I stammer something about not being able to help being sleepy, I work hard at school and I’m always sleepy in the afternoon, and …

Dad joins in: "Who is this U?  What does he do?"

Mom tells him a brief sketch.

Dad asks about age.

Mom gives him a ballpark figure.

Dad nods.  "Well, why not.  Why don’t you marry him?"

I sit there gaping.  Dad tells me about a couple at my parents’ old church – the woman was quite a bit younger than the man, and they were very happy and suited to each other.  "It worked for them!"

Flashforward to this morning.

Now, as my astute readers may have guessed, this U thing is sort of rearing its deliciously tentative head …

And this morning, I remembered the conversation of seven years ago.  I thought to myself, "I wonder where that couple is now.  Is the man dead already?  Was it a hard relationship?  Hmm … "

Tonight, at the party, a very cute couple came in (yeah, you can all guess where this is headed), and when they were introduced to me, they got excited, and said the last time they had seen me, I was a toddler.  The woman looked vaguely familiar.  I asked questions, and found out that they were from my parents’ old church.  Anyway, it was only towards the end of the sing-along that the penny dropped.  I leaned over to my dad and said, "Hey!  Pssst!  That couple over there – are they the ones you told me about seven years ago?  The big age difference?"

"Yes … why?"

"Just wondering … "

So later, I sat down with the man – he’s 91 years old! – you wouldn’t know it! – and told him my predicament.  He beamed with pleasure and told me that his marriage had been totally worth it, and that from the sounds of things, I had "struck a chord in U’s heart."  Of course, he can’t know that for sure, but he thought U’s phonecalls to me in Victoria were a good sign of a connection, romantic or otherwise.  He said, "We were very honest with each other in the beginning, and honest with ourselves about the likely outcomes.  We knew that she would probably end up nursing me.  And it is a little bit like that."

Oh, boy.

Be still, my silly heart.

If I didn’t already know from previous experience how patient and enduring I can be with loved ones who are in trouble, I would hardly trust myself to hope … but this is … okay, enough.

He probably doesn’t want me that way.

I’ll just call (before my schedule fills up completely) and ask him to see a movie or something.