BB: Remind me what a wino is?
Foo4: A drunk — usually a homeless drunk.
BB: Oh. I thought it was a drunk monk. You know, priests, men of the cloth?
Foo4: Dipping into the communal wine?
So BratzBasher started band camp last week. It’s a two-week thing, so she’s still being tortured on a daily basis. At least the second week is half-days. The other tuba players tell her she’ll get used to the sousaphone eventually. Right now, it’s a pain in the shoulder and the neck. Plus, there’s that giant bell.
When the wind is really blowing, it can knock her over. Well, she admits she hasn’t been fully knocked over yet. She’s just had to take a few stabilizing steps back. At least there’s popsicles. She says that makes up for a lot of it.
The marching band’s theme is “The Butterfly Effect”, and they’re just now starting to learn the “pictures”. It’s difficult for my freshman to adjust, but I’m sure she’ll get the hang of it eventually. Sooner than she becomes accustomed to the sousaphone, no doubt.
BB got fitted for her uniform on Friday. Three pairs of pants, two jackets, and two pairs of shoes later…she has a fitting uniform…with a hole in the knee. Apparently, the previous wearer tried to patch it with duct tape and thread. They did not, however, fit her for a hat. All of the sousaphonists’ — okay, sousaphone players’ (the computer doesn’t like my first word choice) hats are the same size. They get to wear berets because the plumed hats don’t allow for the bell that goes over their heads. “Yay! I don’t have to worry about putting my feather on backwards!” She’s kidding, of course. I think the berets look kinda cool. The plumed hats really are dorky.
Another plus is that she’s already memorized her music. She’s never done that before, so I’m quite proud of her.
Some highlights from the first week:
- The director doesn’t take himself — or the marching TOO seriously.
- BB had a competition with the trumpet section leader to see who could play the highest note. BB won. On her sousaphone.
- The drum major is fun. He’s a tuba player, of course.
- One word: popsicles.
BB: Are you waiting for the words to come to you?
BB: Come flying up your nose and into your brain?
Nah. I got nothin’. Maybe I’ll post again before next month.