#squaf

Homegirl spent an hour on the phone with (blessedly) out-of-state Matriarch, succeeding in 1.) maintaining a tenuous hologram of peace and 2.) setting up automatic monthly tuition payments (!) with a side of house-hunting that yearned to simmer into discord, but was denied (!!) and constrained to mild tension. I’ve got my new gold ankle boots on, Agnes Baltsa is paying Rossini stunning homage (thanks are ever due to @congregamus, but specifically, here, for including La Baltsa on that gigantic music transfer we decided to do out of nowhere that one cloudy summer day three (?!) years ago), and I feel not completely worthless. 

 I’m just waiting on The Boys, a subset of Ur-Squaf, to come into accord re: where we’ll hike today, as has become an almost-daily ritual. Later, an end-of-year party for the extra-curricular ensemble whose presence in my life has both robbed and bestowed sanity, which for me will be a “bye for now! good luck, alti!” And a subtle middle finger to our director, the other Matriarch in my life, who tried to throw a mini-party for me mid-rehearsal a few weeks back (as if I were flying South the next morning rather than halfway through August).