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    The prodigy

    Atsushi flew home this afternoon. This month was not only our fifth anniversary but also the 250th anniversary of Mozart’s birth. Because I don’t believe in asking questions I don’t want to know the answer to, I didn’t ask Atsushi which milestone was more significant to him.

    Have I mentioned that my man is really into Mozart? And the Strausses. And pretty much every other Austrian who ever wrote music. They were running a series of Mozart performances on NHK this week; he brought a tape of The Magic Flute (2003 in Covent Garden) along. We didn’t go to the orchestra when I was growing up, but we listened to classical music at home quite a bit. Mozart’s 40th is probably about my favorite piece–yes, before you say it, it goes with my high-strung personality.

    Opera? Not really my thing, but sometimes entertaining. Atsushi and I watched The Magic Flute while eating our brunch (contrived using the cast-iron frying pan and potato ricer my parents sent me for Christmas). Ichs and Neins were sung. Daggers were handed to psychologically vulnerable maidens with creamy bosoms. Heroes were aided by trios of altar boys sent by (I think) the Sun King. Magic flutes were played. Well, I guess one magic flute and one organ-grinder kind of thing with chimy bells inside. I kind of liked it. Atsushi, however, beamed the whole way through like a four-year-old boy whose dad had just given him his first toy train.

    Since it’s not a bank holiday tomorrow, he’s back in Kyushu already, and I’m doing the laundry and clean-up thing. Great weekend, though, even if I am ending it sitting alone in the apartment eating smushed-together leftovers: mashed potatoes and a grilled peach (yes, obviously in heavy syrup–if God hadn’t meant peaches to come in heavy syrup, he wouldn’t have made cans) and some steamed vegetables. Hope everyone else enjoys the remaining time…about a half-day at home in the States, right?

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