Okay, my bad, it's been like 3 days since I was done with all the busy crap that's kept me away from you. But now I'm back - to let you know: I can really shake 'em down.

Anyway, the show went great (I have some pictures of it that I'll try and get up this week), and the performances on Sunday went really really well. Despite feeling a little dry and allergenic, I managed to get through a Fauré Requiem, and then an entire Bach St. John Passion (I played Pilate and sang the last bass aria). Then I found a bottle of single malt scotch.

The next few weeks should be a breeze compared to the last month (in March, except for the road trip, I basically worked 16 hour days every day of the week), even with Easter coming up. I suppose I should look at the schedule and find out what all I have to do Easter weekend, but I don't think I have anything more than a good Friday service, and an Easter morning service. I might have to do Maundy Thursday, but I'm not sure.

Okay, now that I've gotten the "Matt's Life Update (Not That You Care)" portion of the column out of the way, I'd like to discuss why my pee smells. I can't figure it out. I assume it must have SOMETHING to do with the fact that I ate asparagus last night, but I've eaten asparagus in the past and haven't had this happen. Perhaps coupled with the Atkins diet (I've been doing pretty well, I think I'm down to about 240), asparagus enzymes in my whizz just really reek. For a while I thought I was just smelling remnants of hair colorant and conditioner, but I'm not sure. It definitely gets stronger in the bathroom (and lingers on me, much to the endless joy of my coworkers).

Hair colorant? Yes, I dyed my hair. And without Sarah's help! Which is why it doesn't look quite like I'd hoped, although it's not bad. It's a little more "golden" than "blond," unfortunately, and it's not really "highlights" like I wanted. It's still highly rad, though. I'm so pretty. It's like being Goldilocks, except without the curls, and my job lost me my girlish laughter eons ago.

Next time: why Charles Atkins is my real dad. Or would be, if I didn't already have a real dad. And if Dr. Atkins wasn't, ya know, dead.