Musically speaking...

When I was a child I was forced to take piano. Forced, I tell you. I emphasise the word forced again because I was so horribly excruciatingly painfully horridly non-talented get her off the bench and find her a talent that suits her so she can be put out of her misery and not be scarred for life bad, not tickling the ivories but strangling them. Enough said?

I remember going through YEARS of torture for piano. I wasn't a pianist, people. I was a ballerina. Wanted to be a famous one. I liked to think that was my talent. Up until scoliosis affected my life in such a way that I had to have life changing surgery and couldn't bend anymore. A different topic for another day.

So when my son at 2 told me "pay hithar" (play guitar) I thought it had to be a cute little toddler thing. But years went by and finally at 5 he insisted he would do anything in the world just to play guitar. I pictured myself on stage, a little girl scared to death playing an instrument she loved to watch her sister play so beautifully but couldn't get my awkward fingers to work. I was meant to dance, remember?

He is turning 10 in April and still passionate about guitar. Has been taking it for 5 years. He is amazing. I am a big supporter for putting your kids in something-they should be involved in SOMETHING. Just something they love. A passion. My nephew plays the piano amazingly. It is like it comes naturally. My nephew and my son can hear a song and figure it out on their said instruments. They even both played (separately) and serenaded us at Thanksgiving after our meal. It was beautiful, brought tears to my eyes sweet. When my son is happy, he sits and strums the guitar. When he is angry, he plays more aggressive songs. You know his mood by the songs he plays. It is a wonderful outlet for him. He is starting to write his own songs and loves music. I couldn't be more proud of him.

I keep thinking of his first lesson. He was only 5, so cute and tiny. The teacher had to bring in a little stool because his feet didn't touch the floor. The guitar was so gigantic compared to him. His face was beaming with excitement. He was so excited just to get to TOUCH the guitar. When his teacher played a song for him he couldn't speak. Just sat in awe. How sweet that mental picture is embedded in my mind. As I look at him now, I can't believe how him and his "githar" are still going strong. When he plays I can't speak. I just sit in awe. How amazing it is to listen to your child play an instrument well. Emphasis on well, people.

Now the ballerina is back on the keys-the computer keys, that is...

Time Flies

Can you believe this is the 22nd day of January? Where does the time go?

Since starting my "new life" very soon after starting this blog, I only have the computer at my office to post anything. I am aching for a computer at home. I am looking into a couple of used laptops, so hopefully I can be up and running at home within the next decade so I can blog more! I feel as though when I started this I had so much of what I wanted it to be in my mind, and since I can only post when I have a break I am very limited to what I can do here.

In light of that, I thought I would post my very very favorite blogs today, in no particular order! Blogs that inspire me and I check in almost every day!

http://www.theshabeechick.blogspot.com/ -she talked me in to blogging and helped me when I needed it!


http://www.deardaisycottage.typepad.com/



http://cindy50.blogspot.com/


http://www.theoldpaintedcottage.com/


Enjoy!

Life is just a bowl of....

Life is just a bowl of____ YOU fill in the blank!

Lately I feel as though my life is a three ring circus. I am trying to manage a family of three on my own. Enough said.

I had to go used furniture shopping the other day. I told you I was budgeting. USED furniture people. I am a little germophobic so I am still trying to get over it.

Anywhoo, I arrive at the furniture store and the sweetest little man (80-ish) comes over and asks if he can help me. I ask him if he has any used furniture. He says they haven't carried used furniture in years. I politely say thank you and turn around to be on my merry unmarried and desperate for good furniture because I am too broke to by new way, and he says for me to wait a minute, he has an idea. There is something upstairs in the warehouse I can look at, if I would like.

I tell him I would love to take a look. He tells me we have to ride the freight elevator to see it. Ok, big deal, I says to self. Big mistake.

First of all. I turn the corner to said elevator and realize he aint akiddin. This thing is a FREIGHT elevator. Unfit for PEOPLE. But freight. Nervously I step on the wooden platform. I notice there are NO SIDES on this thing and he says he thinks it still works as he hits one of two buttons. The thing jerks and he says it was the wrong button. He then proceeds to push the right button and the thing starts and stops with such a jerking motion (as daylight disappears and we jerk our way between floors) This is at least a hundred year old building so it took forever in blackness to reach the floor holding this hopeicangetadealsofabecauseicantaffordanewone couch.

So I couldn't hold on to the sides as it stopped, jerked and started again, because they were passing brick walls. No sides, remember? I wanted to curl up on the rickety floor of this thing in the fetal position and plug my ears and go to my happy place. All I could envision was us plummeting to our death on this freight elevator. For freight, not people, people.

Guess what he says when we reach the floor with the trophy couch, rewarding me for my sheer bravery to ride the damn thing? Didn't even know this thing still worked!!!!

Needlesstosay, the couch was beautiful, exactly what I would have purchased if looking for a new one. Very sturdy and dirt cheap. Yeah me!

Now I have to ride the retched thing down. But as I saw daylight going from floor to floor, I knew we had almost made it. As we hit the ground floor with a big thud, I counted my blessings for making it one piece. After all, have you ever heard of someone being killed FURNITURE SHOPPING?!!!

I think I need to sit down on said sofa and rest now.

2008, I think I can can......

I think I can can....

have a HAPPY NEW YEAR!

I can't believe how long it has been since I posted. Christmas just flew by! New years came and went and now we already on our 4th day of 2008. How did that happen?!

I had a great Christmas. Christmas Eve was another story. What do you think of when you think of a candle lite service? I think of soft music, praying and remembering the reason for the season. Apparently from this year on I will think of hair emitting into a flame and the horrible smell of said hair after the flame killed what was not pulled out by my father. Yes, my daughter caught my hair on fire. I told you I was ready to make new memories? This one will be embedded in my memory file for probably the rest of my existence on this earth.

Well, I cant entirely blame it on my daughter. I should have taken her to the back of the church before the lighting o' the candles. I should have known she was too wiggly to sit still and we were packed in the pews like sardines. I just became a cooked sardine.

She fidgets and finagles her way out of my mother's lap and tries to make her way 5 people down to my sister. Passing me, I notice her beautiful, long ponytail waaaaay to close to comfort to my candle. Motherly reflexes that I have, I pull my candle up towards my own head (why didn't I blow it out you say?) Good question.

Next thing I remember instead of focusing on my prayer or the reason for the season, I noticed a strange light coming from the side of my head. Then I pondered the stench that arose in the air. I would come to find out soon enough that the horrid smell was emitting from my own locks. Singed hair is a wicked wicked smell. My dad proceeds to reach up and save my burning locks just like the hero that he is and I gratefully escaped the tragedy with only a small handful of dead hair to prove that the event happened at all. Except for the giggling of family members that witness the whole thing and church parishioners that sat behind me trying to pretend that they didn't see a thing.

So as I start the new year I look to it as a fresh start. Make it a great one. Will try to make as many fun memories as possible. Some planned, some unexpected. But somehow all contributing to the memory book in my mind in my life. Strangely, some memories accompany the strong stench of singed hair. UGH.