My wife woke me at 6AM asking if I wanted to attend a piano concert by the river. She must have known the answer as she and daughter were on their way out the door. And, it turned out to be a SITAR concert, so staying in bed was the correct choice. Got up to make coffee, exploded the espresso maker (apparently you have to hold the handle in place), spent the next half hour cleaning up the damage. One broken glass was the only casualty. Will spend the rest of today in coffee-splotched shorts as we travel to Chamonix, France, where the forced march begins on Monday.
Sitar … Some British group, 1967, some band member trying to distinguish himself, long piece taking up the third of the back of an album, me trying to lift the needle and get it on the next song without damaging the vinyl. Ah yes, fond sitar memories.
Anyay, she grabbed this shot with her IPhone, Lake Geneva, slight ripple effect caused by strained rasping sound of sitar strings.