This weekend is the one my husband and I have been working towards for two years now. Tomorrow and the day after we will perform songs from 1967 with a band.
We have been practicing and rehearsing for months and months, we will have three people’ staying at our house overnight, and we will feed the whole band, all six of us.
I didn't really want to do this concert. It was my husband's pet project, and when he first came up with the idea I said no. In fact I said, “No way, not with me.”
Then I decided that if this is so important to him I will support it. Also I keep forgetting that I love performing more than I think I do.
Still. This will be exhausting for sure. I won't get enough sleep, I will have to be the one making breakfast and lunch and dinner, and doing all the dishes, and being around all day in case somebody needs something.
And then after dinner I will be standing on stage, helping with sound, singing background and shaking a tambourine. (Shaking a tambourine is surprisingly exhausting and painful. I find that an hour or so of banging the tambourine against my hand leaves me with a dire need of applying an ice pack. And then I'll do it again for another hour, and again the next day.)
And after the concert on Sunday we will unplug everything again, and move all the amps, mixers, cables, instruments, microphone stands and such back to our house, go to bed way too late, and on Monday I will need to get up at 6.30, make breakfast for our son, and then make breakfast for everybody else when they get up, after which I will start my normal teaching day again.
I'm hoping that the making of music will be fun, and I'm sure it will be. I'm also looking forward to having weekends off and being able to focus on my writing and my own music, and maybe decluttering the house.