Well, opera season begins in about a week, with Die Fledermaus, the first opera I saw with Mom ….
… and I should just leave that sentence right there. It isn’t honest, though. It makes it sound as if Mom and I went swanning to the opera every week, when actually, it’s more accurate to say “the first, last, and only opera I saw with Mom.”
I feel I need to downplay the opera-swanning, because I am piling on the culture. My opera friend and I have tickets to six performances by the St. Louis Symphony this winter. All classics: two Beethovens, the Messiah, Tchaikovsky, Stravinsky, and the Magic Flute as an extra bonus opera.
I feel quite elegant. Luckily, I have my age and bodily functions to keep me humble.