Something Awful

Isn't that a strange phrase?  How does it translate into "a lot" or "with a passion"?

Why don't people realize that's what I mean when I say things like, "I love to sing something awful"?

Maybe they've heard me sing.

I love to sing.  I have always loved to sing.

In fifth or sixth grade I tried out for the Tri-Cities Choir (those three cities were Ontario, Montclair and... I'm not sure what the third city was, but clearly this was only a big deal to the people applying).  I don't recall what song I sang.  I do remember standing next to the upright piano, singing my heart out and wondering what it was going to be like as a member of this choir.  I mean, I breezed right into my school's choir which was an awesome way to get out of class proved how talented I was.

Fast forward maybe 15 years when I was saving my mom from being featured on Hoarders decluttering my mom's apartment in advance of a move.  She pulled out this file that she'd kept with my accomplishments.  Dozens of (participant) ribbons from all those years I spent competing (without advancing) in gymnastics.  (Motivational) Certificates for doing things (like attending) in school (without faking sick because Luke and Laura were trapped on an island).  What else did I find?  The rejection letter from the Tri-Cities Choir.  Suddenly I recalled how the bearded, corduroy wearing man wrote on a little scrap of paper, "F flat."  Only his "flat" was underlined three times.

When Corey was a baby I would sing to him to help him sleep.  When he was maybe 18 months old I noticed that he was increasingly distressed at bedtime.  One night it finally came out.

"Hush little baby, don't say a wor..."

*sobbing*  "No song!"

"Hmm hm-hm hm-hmm..."

*bawling with tears shooting out of his eyes*  "No hmm-hmm!"

As I've aged, it seems to me that I can now occasionally hit keys.  Madelyn has enjoyed having me sing to her.  But I guess that's changing.  She's three now and more discriminating than when she was two.

This evening as we were driving home, we talked and sang.  Sometimes we talked in sing-songy voices.  She finished my sentences.

"I cannot..."

"... sing!"

*sigh*  At least we know she's got taste.