Thursday, Oct. 28
8:57 a.m.

It looks like the neighbours across the street are having a pool put in on the other side of their house. I called this contraption a "crane" but Scott said it is probably a cement pumper, and I believe him because there was a cement truck there at the same time. Whatever it is, it's been noisy the past two mornings.

Every time I step through the door at 8:25 to drive the boys to the bus, the moist sweet air is as soft as a caress and I breathe it in as deeply as I can.

Yesterday was a wasted day, if there is such a thing. I awoke with the Neck Thing and was too fuzzy-headed to accomplish more than doing the dishes while I practised my songs. I have tried to sing through The Prayer, thinking that with a few efforts I would manage it without emotion, but no ... it has set off the waterworks all but once.

As a matter of fact, when Mom and I came to it the other day as we sang together, I pushed ahead as usual, and within the first three or four phrases Mom said "Oh ... that is not a good song for you right now. Turn it off."

I am taking the cassette and the songs again this morning and will give her a Vita Flex treatment and hope we can sing again before I run out to meet some new friends -- internet acquaintances -- for lunch.

One of the songs we sing is Someone to Watch Over Me,, and Mom stopped singing. Afterward I asked her why, and she said "You have such a beautiful voice, I just wanted to listen to you."

"If I do," I told her, "and thank you, you know who I got it from, don't you?" I love Mom's voice, it is so sweet and rich.

I, on the other hand, sound "exactly like Renee Zellwegger when she sings that Funny Hunny of Mine on the Chicago soundtrack." That surprised me, as I think of my voice as being a little bit deeper than that. But, as our music instructor said last night and he knows what he's talking about, "You never hear your own voice as others hear it." That's good, because I hear every crack and warble as I sing, these days, and it's good to think that maybe others wouldn't.

Just before I left, Mom said "You know what I would like, is if you would ask your instructor to play for you and you'd do a whole tape of yourself singing. I would love to have something like that."

"As if!" I said. "I wouldn't have the balls to do that!"

I hate to not do what she asked; it's a small thing and I should do it. But I just don't think I've got the chops. And I'm too much of a perfectionist. If I can't sing every song perfectly, I sure as hell don't want it on tape.

Tsk. I know I should try to do it, even if it is a terrible embarrassment for me... and it would be ... it's a small thing in the big picture.

I didn't join a Closet and Shower Singers class for nothing ... I'd be more comfortable behind the closed door of a closet than anywhere else.

It might mean a lot to her. But I just don't think I can make myself do it.

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