I have never met a microphone I didn't like. I'm not great at public speaking but other than that, I have a freakish attraction to microphones. Maybe it's because the husband is in a band. Maybe it's because my mother was honest enough to tell me decades ago that I can't carry a tune and at some point I decided I don't care. I sing in my house and my car. I sing whenever I feel like it.
Years ago, I was on a girl trip with my Goldies. I think we were in Nashville, TN. Lots of musical entertainment on street corners. To their horror, I liked to join in. I know this song!
Another time, a musician was performing in our hotel lobby. He was singing Patsy Cline and I was participating so heartily that he invited me on stage. Do you think I went up there? Deb and Jan were slightly proud and partially mortified.
Dancing is another release for me. Sorry Mom, but you started it. I used to watch my mother dance around the house. I have danced on counter tops and table tops. Some gene takes over and I must move. (I have never pole danced or pranced in a cage.) As a band widow, I often attend their performances. I dance with my friends and sometimes a total stranger will ask me to dance. I usually do it and I point out my husband up on stage. It's not a dating ritual; I just like to dance.
Plus, I know all the songs so I get to sing along.
Showing posts with label singing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label singing. Show all posts
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Saturday, October 13, 2007
I Say a Little Prayer
Sometimes I morph into Dionne Warwick. I say a little prayer for you. Sometimes, I'm goofy and I even sing it. I figure God could use a little entertainment during all those people begging for help.
My Uncle Ken kept a prayer list of people he prayed for every day. I'm not that organized.
Do you still pray when you get to heaven? Or, do you just tap God on the shoulder and say, "I know you're busy but please pay attention to this one."
I get a little grief when I've avoided church for a while. But make no mistake, I'm still talking to God.
If I know you and love you, I've knelt and asked God to watch over you. Now it's out of my hands.
My Uncle Ken kept a prayer list of people he prayed for every day. I'm not that organized.
Do you still pray when you get to heaven? Or, do you just tap God on the shoulder and say, "I know you're busy but please pay attention to this one."
I get a little grief when I've avoided church for a while. But make no mistake, I'm still talking to God.
If I know you and love you, I've knelt and asked God to watch over you. Now it's out of my hands.
The moment I wake up ... before I put on my makeup
I say a little prayer for you.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Puppy Becomes Dog
Today is the puppy's birthday. No one cares but me. When I woke her up, I was singing, "They say it's your birthday. We're going to have a good time." Yes, I was cracking myself up.
She will no longer be referred to as "the puppy." She's graduated. From this day forward, she will just be Gabby.
As you might recall, the husband did not want another dog. As usual, I tried to abide by his wishes but ultimately, I did it anyway. She is a maniac and I don't care. I fell in love with her immediately and she makes me smile (or grimace) every day.
Our old dog was Holly -- her formal name was Roman Holiday. When the baby was little, I took him with me to pick her up from being spayed. The vet's office called back to the surgery center and said, "Would you please bring Holly Roman to the front?" The baby got a little attitude and said, "Her name is Roman Holiday!" He was 4.
When I first met our puppy, she was quite chatty with her litter mates. I had been toying with dog names in my mind. Then I met her and said, "She's quite gabby."
Big Daddy made it more formal and named her "Roman Gabrielle." (Not after the football player.) He pretends not to like her but he spends an inordinate amount of time with her. I get annoyed that she listens and obeys him. If he plays the piano, she gets a squeaky toy and plays along. He fakes nonchalance but I can see that he enjoys it. He thinks I let her walk all over me -- literally and figuratively. He's right.
There's a dog bakery near my house. It's slightly ridiculous and wildly expensive. I don't care. Big Daddy's out of town and the puppy became a dog today. I'm going there and get her a treat. If I get really crazy, I might put a candle in the puppy cupcake and sing Happy Birthday.
She will no longer be referred to as "the puppy." She's graduated. From this day forward, she will just be Gabby.
As you might recall, the husband did not want another dog. As usual, I tried to abide by his wishes but ultimately, I did it anyway. She is a maniac and I don't care. I fell in love with her immediately and she makes me smile (or grimace) every day.
Our old dog was Holly -- her formal name was Roman Holiday. When the baby was little, I took him with me to pick her up from being spayed. The vet's office called back to the surgery center and said, "Would you please bring Holly Roman to the front?" The baby got a little attitude and said, "Her name is Roman Holiday!" He was 4.
When I first met our puppy, she was quite chatty with her litter mates. I had been toying with dog names in my mind. Then I met her and said, "She's quite gabby."
Big Daddy made it more formal and named her "Roman Gabrielle." (Not after the football player.) He pretends not to like her but he spends an inordinate amount of time with her. I get annoyed that she listens and obeys him. If he plays the piano, she gets a squeaky toy and plays along. He fakes nonchalance but I can see that he enjoys it. He thinks I let her walk all over me -- literally and figuratively. He's right.
There's a dog bakery near my house. It's slightly ridiculous and wildly expensive. I don't care. Big Daddy's out of town and the puppy became a dog today. I'm going there and get her a treat. If I get really crazy, I might put a candle in the puppy cupcake and sing Happy Birthday.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Dancing and Singing
The husband loves to tell people I was a dancer. He drags it out and makes it sound like I was a pole dancer at some strip club. No, I was a ballet dancer for a while.
I think I started at about 5-years old. Tap, Ballet, Jazz, and a little bit of gymnastics. I graduated from a small studio near our home to the local college that was known for their dance regimen. I danced in Real Venues. I added musical theater to the mix and participated in shows throughout town. That was great fun. (Well, not for my parents, who sat through endless rehearsals.)
Once I was dancing in Clowes Hall, a very prestigious place in our town. I either fell or was dropped. As I was sobbing backstage, my mother said, "Oh Honey, no one noticed."
We were not poor but dance lessons were very expensive. Mr. Copeland allowed me to take as many classes as I wanted AND he used me as a demonstrator for the younger kids. He was a class act. For many years, someone picked me up at school and took me to class. Then I went to the theater. Friday nights and Saturday nights were performances. I had been in class all day Saturday. Monday through Friday, I went to class, rehearsal or both. I became very good at doing my homework between ballet classes.
When you audition for musical theater, you have to show them your abilities to sing and dance. I could dance my little feet off but I could not sing a note. I would get up early on audition mornings and walk through the house singing. My parents were very kind but occasionally they would open their bedroom door and say, "Stop!" People can be cranky in the morning so it didn't really stop me.
This is a stereotype so I apologize. But, it is true for my story and my experience. A lot of the male dancers were gay. I was a young girl showing an interest in boys. I found this all a little confusing.
In some ways, this was life altering. I experienced it all, without even realizing it at the time. Anorexia, Bulimia, Homosexuality, Fitness, Graciousness, Good Costumes, Make-up tips. It was fun and educational.
I still love to sing and dance. When the husband or my mother-in-law plays the piano, I am the first one to sing along. When Big Daddy's band plays, I dance a lot.
Last night was a clear, perfect evening. Big Daddy and I cranked up the iPod. We sang along and we danced on the patio.
I think I started at about 5-years old. Tap, Ballet, Jazz, and a little bit of gymnastics. I graduated from a small studio near our home to the local college that was known for their dance regimen. I danced in Real Venues. I added musical theater to the mix and participated in shows throughout town. That was great fun. (Well, not for my parents, who sat through endless rehearsals.)
Once I was dancing in Clowes Hall, a very prestigious place in our town. I either fell or was dropped. As I was sobbing backstage, my mother said, "Oh Honey, no one noticed."
We were not poor but dance lessons were very expensive. Mr. Copeland allowed me to take as many classes as I wanted AND he used me as a demonstrator for the younger kids. He was a class act. For many years, someone picked me up at school and took me to class. Then I went to the theater. Friday nights and Saturday nights were performances. I had been in class all day Saturday. Monday through Friday, I went to class, rehearsal or both. I became very good at doing my homework between ballet classes.
When you audition for musical theater, you have to show them your abilities to sing and dance. I could dance my little feet off but I could not sing a note. I would get up early on audition mornings and walk through the house singing. My parents were very kind but occasionally they would open their bedroom door and say, "Stop!" People can be cranky in the morning so it didn't really stop me.
This is a stereotype so I apologize. But, it is true for my story and my experience. A lot of the male dancers were gay. I was a young girl showing an interest in boys. I found this all a little confusing.
In some ways, this was life altering. I experienced it all, without even realizing it at the time. Anorexia, Bulimia, Homosexuality, Fitness, Graciousness, Good Costumes, Make-up tips. It was fun and educational.
I still love to sing and dance. When the husband or my mother-in-law plays the piano, I am the first one to sing along. When Big Daddy's band plays, I dance a lot.
Last night was a clear, perfect evening. Big Daddy and I cranked up the iPod. We sang along and we danced on the patio.
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