A Toast

To the 2010-2011 performance season, which I (just barely) survived. To the craziest five and a half months of my life. To Verdi and Mahler, Puccini and Poulenc, Berlioz and Brahms, and of course Hamlisch. To the hardest music I've ever had to learn. To discovering my voice and my backbone. TO becoming a better musician. To being moved to tears by the same piece every time I get to sing it. To having way too many feelings. To rehearsals every single night. To sleep deprivation.  To crawling around on the floor. To costumes and makeup. To escapism and passion and opera. 

To my friends, old and new,

Who listen to me when I complain about being busy, who listen when I complain about everything. Who may not care about my nerdy obsessions, but still support me anyway. Who still invite me places even when I've had to turn them down so many times. Who pick up after months right where we left off.  Who tell me exactly what I need to hear about my life, my future, and my idiot heart. Who take care of me, feed me, and don't make fun of me for falling asleep on their couches or wanting to hang out in my pajamas. Who make me feel like I'm home, like I'm safe, and loved. Who make me feel like family.

To the bitter, to the sweet. To the dryness and the rain. To the pain and to the pleasure.
To everything that makes life so delicious.

To Buffalo Chicken Pierogies, made from scratch:

Cheers