__________

I'm driving down I-55 north (so I suppose I'm driving UP, not down...) through incredibly dense fog. Little traffic. Half tank of gas. I have a little over an hour left to drive when I put in my Memorial CD. I can't sing along with the score, so I'm mumbling along with the Arabic as best I can. It occurs to me that any passing car would just assume I am singing along with whatever hit is top on the chart. (I can't be asked to give an example. My preset radio stations consist of NPR and oldies.) But really, I'm rehearsing for a concert for Carnegie Hall come January.

This was my little secret for the drive home.