I can see it now.

I once was an accomplished singer. When I was in college I was member of a 48 voice choir and we travelled throughout Europe and points north on several different occasions. I sang in so many places I truly can’t recall them all, there were alot and I did it for four years. I have heard the echoey reverb in the likes of Notre Dame Cathedral, St Paul’s Cathedral in London and Uppsala Cathedral in Sweden. This choir was a lot of sight reading and practice and lots of fun and it allowed me the opportunity to travel rather inexpensively.

Presently if I sing along with the radio, my very sweet husband will ask, “Do you know why those people are singing?” “No,” I reply curiously. “So you don’t have to”, is his smarty pants answer. After I pick myself up from the floor from the blow….I wonder a few things.

1. Perhaps I don’t sing as well as I have been led to believe.
2. I don’t sing as well as I used to.
3. I clearly am not the best singer in the family.

But with all of that thought out, it doesn’t hinder my singing at all except for the fact I am not in an organized singing group or a choir at this point in life. First of all I don’t go to church anymore and I’m not about to go just to sing. Secondly I am so picky about who I sing with, I want them to be good and know how to both carry a tune and know how to blend. What I do love however are all the old lounge tunes, like Linda Ronstadt did several years back. I love the swankiness of those tunes and how easy they are to sing.

So I had this thought about how fun it would be to be a lounge singer, in Vegas. I can picture it now. The room is dark, the only thing you can see is me on stage, I hold a white microphone. I am wearing the most gorgeous evening gown, I am a Diva. I have a pianist to accompany me and I am in full musical form. The crowd loves me as I belt out song after song, they beg for more and throw roses and love notes. Even Sweet husband loves my singing, after all he is the target of my love songs.

The show ends, I come off stage to my dressing room and I spy the clock. 6pm, right on target. I change and Sweet husband and I head off toward home to have dinner, rest a bit, watch a bit of HGTV and hit the sack by 10pm. Yes I know lounger singers usually sing late into the evening, but I can’t stay up past 10pm. Do you think that will derail my dream, not being able to stay up late?

Stayed tune for when I write about “short fat showgirls” another dream gone awry.

6 thoughts on “I can see it now.

  1. Yeah, when ever I start humming along or singing along with a tune on the radio, husband starts fiddling with dial immediately looking for a good “Talk show” but then I haven’t sung seriously since junior high and that my dear is long enough for any talent to atrophy to painful squeaking. In fact my speaking voice is turning into Grandma’s hoarse whisper vibrato. Who woulda thunk?

  2. You can some and sing with me anytime . They say family harmonies are the best, we didn’t have enough for a baseball team, but we would have a hell of a vocal group. Friday April 20th we are playing in Winlock Wa at “The Club” featuring Dakota Bob and The Working Man Blues Band. Tell all your friends, we are going to have a great time. Your story reminds me of Shorty singing his little ditty’s in the car and Mother reaching over and turning up the radio, he was a pretty good singer too.

  3. I use to sing. But I have made everyone promise to “NOT” let me sing after I have had a few. And now with my hopefully temporary asthma, I can’t even sing to the radio. hack cough snort. And really we don’t do a lot of things like we use to. Stole that from a Toby Keith song. la ala lalalalalala

  4. You should get yourself one of those home karaoke deals. My sister and her husband have one and they just love bustin’ out the oldies. You can even use a white mic if you want.

  5. I would love to sing any time with you Uncle Spud. Can you write a song about Mitch’s Mud, that I can harmonize with?

    Harmonica Man, I seriously abhor Karaoke, you will never find me doing it.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s