The concert last night WAS all about modern composition, which I had a hard time sitting through. However, the hour and a half was leavened by the fact that Maiko and I had sneaked food in and surreptitiously opened crackling plastic wrappers under our coats and during applause, trying to look extremely nonchalant at the same time. Nope, no food here.

We also stuck around after the concert in the hopes that the reception set up outside the concert hall was actually for commoners like us. After some toasts for the organizers of the 2003 International Festival of Women in Music Today, we did get to descend on the sashimi, fruit, fake melon-and-prosciutto (thick rolls of ham instead of the prosciutto), sushi, etc., and gobble away. Whee! Free food! Sometimes I think I'll never get over my college years.

Illness seems to be fading away. Today I'm sitting upright in my chair at the office, not slumped down like yesterday. This, however, might be due to the fact that I seem to have gained poundage and cannot comfortably slouch in these slacks without cutting off circulation to my legs. It's time for some shopping. I found myself staring at a woman yesterday morning on the train because I really, really liked her outfit. I want a butter yellow, three-quarter length spring coat that matches my pale yellow cropped pants and yellow pumps. Okay, maybe not the yellow pumps. And maybe not all in yellow. But something -- dare I say? --in pastel.

Dang spring. Makes dark-colors people like me actually crave pale shades of pink, green and blue. Another reason to hate the season. Which I do. Except when I don't.

I keep meaning to write more about Jejudo but days go by, I don't know why, I'm walking on a wire -- hey, when did lyrics by Shawn Colvin get lodged in my memory? I swear, I forget the commonest facts and words these days and am able to dredge up the murkiest facts. Like today, I remembered that the coffee bean turd-dropping animal's name is a civet. And furthermore, that the fact that some folks actually pay big money for coffee beans harvested from civet turd is, oddly, a rather just revenge for the many decades during which civet anal glands were harvested for perfume bases (Chanel No. 5, for one).

(If you don't believe me, check out Cecil Adams' site: http://www.straightdope.com/columns/010525.html. And no, I didn't look at it before I wrote the above paragraph; I wrote those facts down from memory. Don't ask me why my mind chooses to hold on to facts like this.)

Anyway, I'll work on Jejudo descriptions at some point. If not, I'll write them up when I post the pictures. Probably this weekend, when I'm not reeling from the one-two punch of returning to school and work on the same day.