Luna Games

So I’m convinced my cat hides her toys on purpose in order to make ME hunt.

At first she would bat them under my bed, so I’d have to fish them out for her.

Then it was stove and occasionally the shelf in the laundry room.

Many times she seems to enjoy batting them under my piano; I have occasionally found all three under there.

And now. Now? She is managing to get them trapped under the swivel chair in my living room. They’re getting caught between the underside of the chair and the swivel base. To free them I have to tip up the chair.

Which miss Luna watches with great interest.

She still lets me know where the missing toys are. She’ll crouch and stare to let me know her toy is trapped. So that I can retrieve it for her.

Yeah, she makes me work.

On the plus side, she’s curled up in my lap three times this week. She’s only sat in my lap a couple times before, so I’m hoping she’s trusting me more.

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I got in.

So, I was selected as one of the 16 members of the Twin Cities Gay Men’s Chorus chamber ensemble. And I’m feeling… conflicted.

While I’m excited to have the opportunity to sing in a good, small ensemble, I can’t help but wonder if I really deserve to be there.

Because I feel my audition sucked.

I get super nervous when I have to audition for things- especially if it’s music related. I’m a perfectionist when it comes to music, yet I’m not good enough to expect that level of performance from myself. So all I hear are flaws. Which amplifies my anxiety.

It’s fairly debilitating, really.

I mean, I can do karaoke and be terrible and I don’t care. I’ll make it comedic or drink more or whatever. And if I’m auditioning for a solo, I’m not as stressed, because I know I’ll be ok if I don’t get selected.

But when auditioning for inclusion in a group (band, chorus, theater, etc) it’s either you’re in and you get this opportunity– or you’re out. And that stresses me out.

My tummy is oogy just typing all this.

Anyway, I was nervous and my audition was not great. The term “shit the bed” comes to mind. So I was basically prepared to be cut.

Only I wasn’t. I was selected.

Which makes me wonder if the director chose me out of pity or gave me some sort of pass because I’m a section leader. Or because I’ve kind of struck up a friendship with the new director.

And I would be upset if I was chosen for some reason other than talent.

Hence me being conflicted.

But it’s done, and I’m in. And now I just have to prove that I deserve to be there.

Oh! PS- the good news is that the director set rehearsals on Thursday instead of Monday, so I get to stay in band!

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Auditions

I have an audition on Sunday and I’m already getting the nervous stomach.

Our new artistic director is holding auditions for the Chamber Singers- a small ensemble culled from the gay chorus. This group will only be 16 singers, so competition for spots will be… well, more rigorous than in the past.

I have been in the Chamber in the past, but that’s obviously no guarantee. And Gerald (new director) makes no bones about being rather cutthroat.

So– nerves.

Now, I know I have a decent voice. Am I the best singer in the chorus? No. But I do have a pretty good sense of pitch. I have dynamic range and control. And I can sing the better part of 2.5 octaves. But I’m not a trained vocalist. Or super polished by any means. And my voice sits somewhere between pop and classical.

When I record myself and listen back, I hear every little warble. Every imperfection. Every intonation issue. I hate it. And I obsess about it.

The audition is Sunday evening. I have an audition piece prepared (although I’ve never done it with accompaniment before). And we also have to sight sing in both major and minor keys.

Imma definitely fuck that up.

The only bright spot is that if I get turned down, I will be able to continue with concert band (as the rehearsals for chamber and band conflict).

I just think I’d like to sing under Gerald to see what music he might be able to make with 16 good singers.

Wish me luck?

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Woofy Wednesday

More male hirsute pulchritude.

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So, there’s this boy….

Ok. So.

As you may or may not know, I have a thing for hipster otter types. Specifically, bearded, hipster, otters with furry legs and chests and chunky-framed glasses and tattoos, etc. and usually they’re about 28-35 years old.

I know, I know. That makes me a perv. But I can’t help it. I’m just drawn to that look.

Anyway.

In the gay chorus, there are usually one or two boys that meet this description. When they join, I see them and develop small crushes on them. And then spend half the year avoiding them So I don’t seem too pervy. And then the crush fades as they inevitably have a boyfriend or get someone age-appropriate.

C’est la vie.

That being said, there’s a new tenor that joined, and I find him ever so dreamy. He is bearded. He has chunky glasses. He has ink. He’s an otter. He’s 29. And his eyes are so blue……

But I figured him to have a partner. (He’s too pretty not to). Or at the very least not be interested in old farts like me. So I’ve been drooling from afar.

Well, so he was at beer bust at the Eagle last night. And we started chatting. And drinking and chatting. And having fun.

Which eventually led to him propositioning me. “So, you maybe wanna get out of here and go make out and fool around and stuff?”

Yes. Yes I do. Did. Whatever. Anyway.

So I rode my semi-drunk ass home in my bike as fast as possible, and he Lyfted over.

Since this never ever happens, I was kind of at a loss. And nervous as fuck. See, I don’t know what to do with the pretty ones. It’s honestly nerve wracking.

Evidently his type are older, salt-n-pepper “daddies” that are bigger than him. And he seemed to enjoy himself. And he wants a rematch.

For him I can be a daddy.

I think.

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Windfalls.

Part of the problem with doing your own taxes is that sometimes you miss deductions that are less obvious.

Now, my taxes aren’t hard. I don’t have tips or rental income. I don’t have dependents or other issues. I don’t have foreign investments, lottery winnings blah blah blah. I just have standard charitable donations and my condo mortgage. And a little interest from savings.

So once I worked my way through the taxes once Time, they’ve remained relatively consistent.

However, last year as I was doing my state taxes I discovered that there was a property tax deduction that I appeared to be eligible for. I kind of just stumbled onto it, really by trying one of those “you may be eligible” worksheets.

It was kind of complex, what with projected taxes and actual taxes paid and income levels and crap. But I filled it out and did the separate form and mailed it in, as required.

And when I started looking at it, it looked like the same deduction was available for the 2016 taxes as well. So I filled out that form too and sent it along.

Well, earlier this year I got my 2017 property tax refund around the same time as the state and federal refunds. But nothing from 2016.

So color me surprised when I looked at my online bank statement today and see a deposit from the state of Minnesota! The nice thing is that this isn’t a pittance– it’s several hundred dollars.

Everything’s coming up Milhouse!

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Who’s a Smart Girl?

Luna Kitty is!

She really is an inquisitive and sharp little beastie. She’s adapted to sounds and my space and knows feeding times and bed times and wakey times, etc. And what mischief is most likely to get a reaction from me.

She also helps me locate her lost toys.

Luna has these “stinkies”- small, cloth catnip-filled, fish shaped toys. She goes nuts over them. Tosses them in the air, catches them, trots around with them in her mouth. The works. And she bats them all over my hardwood floors.

The problem is that they are small enough to go under things– like my bed. Or piano. Or into a closet. Or under the stove.

Every morning I hunt for her favorite one and make sure it’s out for her. But the other morning I couldn’t find it. I saw her crouched on the kitchen floor by the stove. I looked in the gap underneath and sure enough, there it was. So I fished it out for her.

The more impressive one was one day when I seriously looked everywhere and couldn’t find the damn thing. She is shadowing me everywhere, watching me hunt for it.

“I can’t find it, little girl,” I tell her.

Then she goes into the laundry room and starts pawing at stuff on the bottom shelf of my wire storage racks. She’s never really done this, So I pull some stuff off the shelf– and lo! There it is, all the way against the wall under the shelf.

Clever girl.

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Mondays be like…

I love this picture so hard!

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Li’l B*Hole Comix

It was time.

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Furr-iday

Sorry. I’m in a rut and don’t really have much to post about. So I’m filling my page with hot menz to compensate.

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