On my last night at Sir Toby's in Prague, Jill and I teamed up and beat 'native' english speaking teams at scrabble. Then Will blew his trumpet for us to the tune of Summertime, and it was the most luminous sight in the basement-- the trumpet and his shiny air-filled cheeks. And I could feel the music straight into my bones.
I am going to gently nudge our future kids into the direction of jazzy instruments someday.
But for now, back at work and struggling to stay awake after a hefty farewell party lunch and accidental booze pretending to be apple cider.
zzzzzz
why do you people not write on this thing.
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