Wednesday, February 23, 2005

Sing me a song

I have always needed music in order to basically live and thrive. My parents both have beautiful singing voices and some of my earliest memories are of my mom's soprano, that she never gives herself enough credit for, and my dad's deep resounding bass. In fact, when Sis and I were little our family attended a little - I mean teeny tiny - country church. We sang our first "specials" there. Okay, so it was Sunday School choruses about being redeemed and how ev'rybody oughta know and I'm not even sure I knew what redeemed meant at the time I was singing it at the top of my lungs on the alter step, but I sang it anyway. 'Cuz I was cute. *wink* When I was in junior high, Dad took a songleader position at a slightly larger, but still relatively small, church in Picher, OK, his hometown. There we started singing more sophisticated songs, my favorites being Amy Grant, which every 13 year old Baptist girl adored at the time. The four of us also sang quartets from time to time. Until my voice changed. I went from singing the super high ultra soprano part to borderline bass with my father. Kind of threw off our four parts a bit.

To this day I still lean more toward alto, but if the humidity and barometric pressure is just so, if I haven't smoked in awhile and no one makes me laugh, I can belt out a low soprano like there's no tomorrow. I have no range. None. It's just sad really. If I want to sing something it pretty much has to be in one octave and that's it. So much for the National Anthem.

Why am I telling you this? For God's sake, I don't know.

If you stumbled across this blog by way of Blog Explosion, please take the time to scroll down a bit to some earlier posts and find something a little more humorous and I dunno, meaty. Meaty? WHO has taken over my body and is making me type such crap?

I need sleep.
I smell like spit-up again.
My sinuses feel like they are stuffed full of Elmer's Glue laden cotton balls right now.
DayQuil is some pretty good shit.
I bet NyQuil is better, but I don't have any.
I pray to God above that my youngest does not have "bad dweams" tonight or wake me up to tell me she has "yucky sounds", which means her asthma is making her feel like she has a 200 pound harp seal sitting on her chest.
I hope the sun shines tomorrow.
I don't think I can take another day of clouds and rain.

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