I have just submitted my second assignment for the dreaded web development class.  I worked on it most of Friday and some on Saturday and cleaned it up today.  Not without a lot of help again I have to say.  Though I am beginning to figure some stuff out for myself.  Even stuff I haven’t asked anyone about yet!  Of course those computer people out there that have come to my aid won’t know about the stuff I figured out on my own.  They will merely roll their eyes at the basic information I need from them.

After a morning full of mind boggling web design (well, it’s not THAT good!)…husband and I went to Detroit to see Andrew Lloyd Weber’s latest show, “Whistle Down the Wind.”  Webber wrote the music to “Phantom of the Opera,” “Cats,” and many others.  He wrote the music to this show, and Meatloaf (yes the Meatloaf of Rocky Horror Picture Show) wrote the lyrics.  It was a somewhat strange and sometimes unsettling show, set in 1959 in Louisiana.  The premise is that a family with three young children has just lost their mother.  It’s just before Christmas, there’s a convicted killer escaped from the local penitentiary, and there is the beginning of racial strife in their small town for the first time.  Outsiders coming in to look for the escaped killer add fuel to the simmering racial fire.  Meanwhile the daughter finds the killer hiding in their barn, but mistakes him for Jesus Christ, come again.  He lets her think that and also lets her believe that if she helps him he will bring her mother back from heaven.  I’ll let you wonder how it turns out.

I  think if I had known the story line revolved around a mother who dies just before Christmas, and the regrets of so many people in the story, talking about what they should have done, could have done, but the moments pass, well, I would have brought some tissue!  After the show there were several groups of people talking about their own mothers, now gone.  Some were in tears.  I managed to get through it with only a few tears, though I can certainly understand the need of the daughter to believe that the man in her barn could bring her mother back “if only for one day.”

After the show husband went to work and I came back and worked on web homework, finishing it off with great relief.  So the day feels disjointed.  Concentration, schoolwork, entertainment, tears, concentration, schoolwork…a little distraction…some memories…a bit of sadness over Mom…a bit (ok a lot) of gladness over the assignment being done.

Time for bed now.  Katie retired a long time ago.  She’ll be up early in the morning.