![]() "Sorry, but you caught me in the middle of making spaghetti. The spaghetti pot was steaming nicely, and Claudio Abbado was still conducting The Thieving Magpie. I leaned over and peeked through the kitchen door. ![]() That's all we need to understand each other." Her voice was low and soft but otherwise nondescript. "Excuse me? To whom did you wish to speak?" ![]() I'm good at recognizing people's voices, but this was not one I knew. "Ten minutes, please," said a woman on the other end. I lowered the flame, went to the living room, and picked up the receiver. It could have been somebody with news of a I wanted to ignore the phone, not only because the spaghetti was nearly done, but because Claudio Abbado was bringing the London Symphony to its musical climax. When the phone rang I was in the kitchen, boiling a potful of spaghetti and whistling along with an FM broadcast of the overture to Rossini's The Thieving Magpie, which has to be the perfect music for cooking pasta. ![]()
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