this is good enough I guess

This is good enough I guess.

Last night I went to my favorite Christmas singer/songwriter show in town.

They used to invite me to be a part of it, but they don't any more.

I go to it anyway because I love the people on stage and in the audience and I always see people I might not see all year otherwise.

Last night was lovely and fun as usual.

Also I went with a dear friend who you've heard of in this blog before, she's the angelic creature who has done things like buy me boxes of my own book to sell. 

She's the one who surprised us with a magically stocked kitchen a few times when we returned from Europe.

She is the one person in this world who knows how to make me feel pampered.

Last night, and so I guess this is one of my ideas of being pampered, she and I showed up at the show early to get seats but every seat was already taken.

We decided to go next door to a little bar and then come back and just stand for the show.

We each drank two glasses of wine....and we shared a basket of french fries but I ate most of them.

We got the bartender to give us another half a glass because three glasses would have rendered me unable to stand I think.

But two and a half was okay.

We got to talk about everything.

And we really do talk about every single thing.

It's really fun.

She paid the bill for us because she is so kind.

And then we went to the show and stayed until the very end, drinking ginger ale which is non alcoholic.

We talked to everyone and had a jolly time of it.

When we parted she gave me some very generous gifts to help sustain myself through the holidays...that sounds like drugs...haha..but it was cash and a grocery gift card to Cub Foods.

So I don't get to do some things I would love to do.


That's real.

But I get things I need.

And that's beautiful.

This morning I will take a shower and get dressed up for church.

I'll drive to the pretty little town and stop at the Starbucks to get an herbal mint tea for singing.

Rehearsal starts at nine, so I have to leave by eight.

The service is at eleven, so there's quite a bit of preliminary singing.

I love it, man, all that singing, I could sing in the choir all day and night and never get bored.

It's just divine.

To speak about this a bit more, I am finding that I have a wonderfully rich vocal range right now.

I can sing as high as ever, and I have always easily been a first soprano.

But now I can sing all the tenor notes with great strength as well.

It's pretty awesome.

I am truly thinking of studying opera.

Did I ever tell you that when I was at college on my creative writing scholarship the head of the choral music program invited me to switch and become a voice major?

A voice major?

What the hell was that, I thought.

The great choral conductor, world renowned, Dale Warland, sat me down in a rehearsal space with a grand piano.

I had been singing in his larger choir for several months.

He asked me to try out for his special small choir, but you had to be a voice major.

He told me I should switch from the English Department to his department.

Maybe I should have.

But I was stubborn and proud and I had ideas about being intellectual from my big brother.

I said to Mister Warland, "Well, I'm not dumb. I'm smart enough to be an English major. I'm not just some bimbo singing girl."

Ha ha.

I said that to him.

I thought that only silly young women were voice majors in the music department at the college.

I thought that you could only be a singer in a choir or teach choir to others the rest of your life and I didn't want any of that.

I was probably right, but now I do think that the quality of one's singing is directly related to one's IQ.

I read that somewhere and I believe it.

The smartest singers are the ones who deliver the feelings behind the words and melody.

To be a great singer you are emoting and communicating what is between the lines in the song.

What's between the lines is what matters.

Nobody sings better than Bob Dylan by this definition of successful singing.

I was probably right to stick with my English Department that I loved so dearly.

They taught me critical thinking skills.

They taught me how to write.

I already knew how to sing.

It's an interesting thing to contemplate.

Here I sit, writing.

Writing about music, about singing, about being a singer who wants to sing constantly.

I went to the show last night and I wanted to sing.

So this morning I will sing a lot, in the choir, humbly trying to perfectly meld my voice with theirs.

Trying to fit in instead of stand out.

I could stand out very easily, I could sing over the entire choir very easily, but that would wreck the whole thing.

I am meant to obey this Christmas.

I am meant to humble myself and be lead.

My mother called yesterday and said she has a plan for today.

She is so excited about me being in the choir, my eighty-five year old mother.

She has enlisted Nina to come to church with her this morning, Nina will drive separately and pick up my mother, who is perfectly capable of driving herself but loves to get her grandchildren to come pick her up at the door of her lovely apartment building.

She says we're going to go have brunch after the service, which she says she's going to pay for for all three of us.

Then she says she's taking us to Lunds which is her favorite grocery store here in Minnesota.

She says I get to pick out thirty dollars of groceries.

How great is that?

So my mother, who can be a real Scrooge, is completely transformed this holiday season because her daughter is singing in the choir.

Okay, bring it on.

I am being lead..... and the glory of God shone all around them.

That's all I can say.

I am obeying.

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