Recovery

I am taking the sunshine cure in Dallas.  Idle hours were whiled away yesterday, basking in the sunshine and dry air, twirling in my mothers hanging chaise.  It was probably the best thing my sinuses have experienced yet this year, as I have continued to battle the dregs of the sinus crud that ended 2016 and forced me to bed for the beginning of 2017. 

Alas this respite will be short-lived; hopefully it will be enough to get us over the hump, my sinuses and I, as we will be back in the cold and damp tomorrow.  We've been functioning fairly well except for the aforementioned residual congestion that just doesn't completely clear up.  But perhaps not as well as I've claimed, since I've taken to thinking of my sinuses as an evil twin I must tolerate begrudgingly at that,  an evil twin who keeps me from doing what I want to do. There were further setbacks this weekend, although whether this was due to over-activity or the return of seeping dampness remains undetermined.

The overdoing is my own fault, not that I am complaining.  I wouldn't undo a moment.

Friday night was symphony night, and it was Friday night that my congestion began to return.  In this case I do blame the weather, as the air had turned markedly damp in the late afternoon. But the concert was a delight.  The concert opened with Sarka, the third segment of Bedrich Smetana's Ma Vlast, which was delightfully performed, and which was followed by a gorgeous rendition of Sibelius' Violin Concerto in D Minor, performed by violinist Bella Hristova. The performance was a delight of precision and cooperation, of fresh and confident phrasing, and gentle storytelling which carried the audience away. 

I was however so congested at the intermission I considered going home, although I did not.  I am glad that I stayed for the performance of Dvorak's Symphony No. 6 in D Major which was beautifully and lushly performed, with excellent balance between the woodwinds and the strings and rousing finale, which of course roused the audience as well.  It was a lovely performance of this, the least performed of Dvorak's final 4 symphonies.  It was not my favorite rendition, as I realize that I tend to lump performances of this work into two "camps", the lush, almost sonorous camp and the light and sparkling camp.  You might not be surprised to learn that my preference is for the latter, not that I would turn down the opportunity to hear this symphony, regardless of interpretation. .  Or perhaps this was simply the congestion speaking, and the way it lulled my body into somnolence when it yearned for a little gentle ebullience.  Either way I am happy I stayed.

Saturday the Davis and Fehrenbach clan trekked off to Johnson City to see the Harlem Globetrotters. It was a wonderful, if exhausting day, and we played tag with the Globetrotters bus at least part of the way back to Knoxville, which seemed to be almost as much of a thrill to a 10-year old as the game itself.  Oh yes,  some part of me does remember those days.

Sunday concluded with a feast of my brother's fabulous ribs.  Really, every time I come to Dallas I wonder why I eat barbecue anywhere else, as his is the best I've had anywhere, at least as far as I can recall.  Then I remember.  I live in Tennessee. Oh well.

Have a great week.