High, holy days | The Sibelius Chronicles

After the new year last week, it is time for Yom Kippur. A wise lady gives me a history lesson. The prayer that Cohen took inspiration from is purportedly derived from that of a persecuted Rabbi who lost limbs and life to faith. When I think of religious wars, like most people, I am taken aback by the sheer senselessness of it all.

I drove our top of the line race-car around during the weekend. I possess no words to explain the exhilaration. Most everyone who heard about it was incredibly and understandably jealous. I exulted in that. Sibelius kept me informed about insurance liabilities and proved to be a proper wet blanket.

Went window-shopping in a pretty harbour town, ate ice-creams by the side-walk, watched yachts floating by the harbour (I have held a life-long fascination for white-sailed yachts). The sky was clear blue, with not a cloud in sight. A proper, summer day. And to think it is nearly fall (as per the calendar).

Went to a concert in Santa Cruz – guitar. Not my type, but the interns (ex-interns) insisted it would be. It was an experience with little redeeming grace, but at least I can say that I have tried something new. This is important, because they kept teasing me about only frequenting places that old, fogies go to (hello, ballet, I have season tickets again!).

Time to do my winter budget and trip plans. It is going to be a busy time, what with our annual demo coming up and the management being a stirred hornet’s nest about it right now. Meetings, powerpoints, more meetings – in the fine and upstanding tradition of that nation. Nothing is determined unless everyone signs off on a powerpoint. Sometimes, I am not surprised that nothing is ever determined.

“That is the entire point!” chimes in Sibelius, looking too gleeful as I struggle with my post-it notes and slide-decks.

Should have been more sympathetic when he went on about that advisor.