I sing. I sing in the shower. I sing in the car. I sing along with the radio. I sing loud, I sing proud and I have no talent whatsoever. In fact, the first time D1 put two words together in a sentence, it was to say, “no sing”, as she put her hand over my mouth when I was singing her to sleep. (D2 thinks I sing beautifully by the way. She is a darling, sweet child OR she could be tone deaf OR she just knows on which side her bread is buttered.)
A few days ago, I was driving into town by myself. The CD player was blasting out some of my favorite tunes. I had the volume cranked up the way you do when you are in the car alone. I’m singing my heart out to Ain’t No Mountain High Enough. (The best one - Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell) As I’m slowing to a stop at a red light, I hear someone honking their horn. At first I didn’t think the horn was directed at me and I proceeded. Once stopped, I’m still singing and again I hear this horn. I look for the source of this interruption and find a big ole SUV beside me with a man behind the wheel waiving to me. I’m sure I had that “what the….” look on my face until I finally realized that it was my friend, who I will call the rocket scientist. (because he really is one) I smiled and waived back with that sheepish grin you get when you’ve been caught red-handed. I don’t know why I was so embarrassed but I was. I mean, everybody sings in the car, right?
Now, if my friend, RS, pays any attention to the drivel that his spouse, who I will call The Trophy Wife, and I dish out, he will know that I am famous for singing in the car with my daughters and usually have a hairbrush or a wire whisk as my substitute microphone. The Trophy Wife even bought me my very own travelling microphone just for this purpose. But I don’t think he pays that much attention to our chatter. So I’m left feeling embarrassed and wondering if I was the topic of conversation at the dinner table that evening.
Referring to my friend as The Trophy Wife is done with tongue in cheek. She is in fact beautiful and in great shape and looks like a trophy wife . And I hate her for it. Did I say that out loud? But seriously, she is a brilliant woman who is actually a mechanical engineer (perfect match for the rocket scientist)
So, friends, don’t leave me out here twisting in the wind. Tell me your embarrassing moments in your car. Come on, don’t be shy. I won’t tell a soul. Just between you and me. I promise.