If I could Turn Back Tiwwwwwme...

I sing. Songs are constantly skipping through my head and seldom are these ditties restrained to my innards. Even though I don't have the capacity to sing well anymore, I'll still belt out whatever I got. Oh and believe you me, I OWN it.

Many a kitchen spatula has transformed seamlessly between practical household utensil to dynamic, silver microphone as supper gets served up with a show tune.

I enjoy putting on a concert as I drive, much to the bemusement of my fellow motorists. It is especially fun to get caught at a stoplight in full Susan Tedeschi mode just in time to catch the horrified faces of the drivers next to me. They point and laugh when I am a hair band with my windows down, music up and armed with my air-mic - I have seen a million stoplights, and I have rocked them all!

Since I have no fear of dispensing my vocal stylings to strangers, you can imagine what my coworkers, friends and family endure. I have seen the evolution of expression from "Sweet Mother of GOD is someone hurting her?!" to "Just don't make eye contact with it or it will keep singing!" But I never let the blatant mocking stop me. Clearly what people are really saying is "Yes, Please!"

I remember once driving with my sister in upstate New York. A Heart song came on the radio, very retro and not a song either of us would have on our players. We both started to sing meekly to ourselves. The soft singing gave way to loud singing which led to the use of some make believe instruments we happened to have lying around the car (like we all do.) Our concert culminated with lead vocals, backup vocals, drums and air guitar, which incidentally is a challenge to do in a compact car. I mean the simultaneous guitar riff and kick combo? But we didn’t let that stop us. We sang it yet didn’t really play it like it meant something. We. Were. Rock stars!

I like to finish many of my songs with the Vegas style smile, wink and point to the invisible audience member crazed for my musical genius. "Hi there" I imagine. "Hey - you look great over there, thanks for coming!" I feel confidant I have the lounge singer mastered!

OH! And you should see my inner Cher!

Good Things~

When I grow up...

When I was young I was going to be a singer. Then I wanted to be a veterinarian and have acres of pets. The years past with aspirations to be an actress or even a cafe/bookstore owner with my Mom. At one point the list included wanting to be the President of Charlotte Motor Speedway! Here I am on the very cusp of adulthood and at 34 years, thankfully have never been married. Perhaps I have a "problem with commitment."
I won't commit to a favorite color. I love red, but not on a car. White is clean and uplifting, unless it is on furniture. I am unable to lock in one specific movie or song. I can't truthfully answer the simplest of questions. Even those Face book quizzes are enough to give me the cold sweats. For example: "Do you prefer day or night?" Well, it depends on the day. Did I work overnights the night before? Do I have the day off? What is scheduled in my planner? "Do I prefer day or night"? What kind of ridiculously vague question is that? I live my life in shades of gray.
Mom told me just the other day that the best times in our lives occur in our 40's because we know who we are and don't care what people say. Part of me is envious of those confident souls so committed to their identity. The other part of me is left wondering how well we really know ourselves when our convictions are constantly challenged, considered and modified. I mean we are supposed to grow and evolve with each circumstance. I read once that the Journey is the Reward. If we know ourselves so completely in a young fourth decade, than what is the purpose of the rest of the Journey?
This may simply be a veiled attempt at justifying my inability to commit to one idea or it may be a valuable question. For now I am content in my inconsistencies. I will say this for sure though, Nachos are by far my favorite food! Or cheesecake. Oooh and I really like a nice blackened salmon or homemade chicken wild rice soup? Ugh, just forget it.
Good Things~