I'm just about to go sing the Stravinsky! We've been in dress rehearsals all week, and tonight and tomorrow are the two performances. There's more infrastructure for this thing than for any other concert I've been in here yet: headsets and lighting and costumes and "Places in five! Top of show in ten!" and all that. Luckily, almost all of it is for the ballet. All I have to do is show up, stand in more or less the right place, and sing for a little while.
It is, as I told my seatmate when we did the War Requiem last year, one of the four times per year that I put on makeup. Alex oniugnip is coming to see the show tonight; there's nothing approaching a dress code for the audience, but he saw me getting ready, ducked into the bedroom, and emerged in a suit and tie. Wow! Dashing! Damn, he looks better than me.
Anyway, only another day or so until I stop habitually mumbling strange decontextualized snatches of Russian around the hous-- oh, wait, no, we're doing a Shostakovich after this. Never mind.