It was another day of recovery. Even so, it was just a bit more than sitting around twiddling thumbs. We did a bit of laundry so I wouldn't be forced to go home either smelly or naked. We also shelled the pecans purchased in St. David. This ended up taking a surprising amount of effort and skill. For ten pounds, the two of us were at work for a full hour or more. Once this was done they were fed into a blender and became an ingredient in pecan pumpkin butter.
There was a surprise in the mail – a CD from "The Guitar Instructor". It was from some poor lonely angst ridden artiste in Provo, with The Guitar Instructor being listed as engineering (or producing, mixing, or whatever). So we listened to it on a drive that day. It was pretty bad. I'm sure The Guitar Instructor's bit of it was good, but no amount of post production artistry can do anything to reform some music. Garbage in, garbage out. The album was off to a bad start with a couple of whiney "oh forsooth, feel sorry for me" songs. This wasn't helped by the fact that the man sang as if afraid of his own voice. After the first few tracks it got better – he belted a bit better (not much) and the tunes picked up in mood and tempo, but by then the momentum of the first few tracks had ruined it all.
Kate tells m that she later wrote a nice note to The Guitar Instructor with a thank you, and chatty edging around the whole "why the hell did you send me this?" note. But it sat for a few days before she sent it. In that time she thought about it real hard and pasted to the letter another that just said, "So what do you want?" In those words...actually in words a bit more direct and confrontational than that. So far [November16] she has received no response.