Here's my latest concert review. This was the concert that the Super Bowl hardly got mentioned during. My editor wanted me to cover it because of the unusual Copland work. It's not my fault that the really interesting piece in the program turned out to be the not-quite-so-unusual Brahms.
I found the review congealing in my head as I drove home, and I wrote most of it that evening. That's unusual for me, and fortunate, as I had no time to deal with it yesterday, but at least I was then able to turn in the Potlatch local guide, the last open points on which I checked that day, without guilt. And also able to mark off one more open spot in the local dining experience. Ah, I don't eat pizza often any more, but I had bad pizza for lunch yesterday, so that you won't have to.