A rose in the winter/Adrienne Cooper

This is the weirdest f-ing blog, and I question its entire concept. Because I end up doing these incredible, full, rich, important things that I never write about because they don't meet the spec of being just for me. Usually I just post my little selfish thing and sit awkwardly with the incongruity. This time it's just too much. I was part of a giant memorial concert in memory of Adrienne Cooper. I spent all day Friday at the rehearsal and all day Saturday at the tech, rehearsal, and performance. I stage managed it  and I sang in the choral finale numbers. I loved being a part of this insanely talented and dedicated and familial group of people who came together because of Adrienne, and didn't want the days to go by without at least marking the importance of it. And also, maybe I need to do this more often, because it is odd and misleading to have a day like that and then to write that I knew I was going to be inside all day long and deep into the night, and so I made sure to get out in the morning for a walk, for some time just for me. I was bundled up in my down coat and I brought my tea with me in a thermos, and I walked around the neighborhood instead of in the park because sometimes I like to just look at all the pretty houses, in the different seasons. Everything's wintery now—dried out and brown, like a winter somewhere coldish that doesn't get snow, which is what we seem to be now, or at least just so far this year. And just then, some tiny little snow flurries started to swirl. They didn't amount to anything, but there they were, and they brought a smile to my face. And just then, as I walked up Argyle Road, this moment of lingering summer: