Not much sock knittin'

Just a lot of foolin'.

I spent Friday evening being chased around the metro area by fire trucks. Not sure what that was about. The universe must have needed some levity. I can laugh about it now.

Saturday morning, Phil, my Personal Tormenter, made sure that I would not be able to use my arms in any meaningful way today. Which made knitting a most painful activity this fine Sunday afternoon. Lifting a heavy lasagna pan into the oven was a shear test of of will.
But well worth it. Nothing like the smell of lasagna in the air and knowing that you will eat well for at least a couple of days.

Until a nap took me, I listened to Barack Obama's book on CD entitled "Dreams from My Father". It's the best way I could think of to get a measure of the man. So far, I am impressed with his introspection, incredible ability to recall the finest details from an early age and his eloquent speech. He doesn't come across as smug or self-important. Just observant and deeply thoughtful.

More on that later.

Last night I attended a karaoke party at my cousin Renee's house. My first karaoke experience. That is, if you don't count our neighbor's Cambodian karaoke sessions.
Those all seem to be sappy love songs featuring videos of couples running through a daisy field in slo-mo or staring into each other's eyes while they sing 2 foot long words to one another in an unfamiliar music scale. That experience had me wondering, "Where am I"?
But I digress. In an ongoing effort to challenge myself and smash my boring boundaries, I got up the nerve to try singing after about 2 hours of being a backup singer and go-go girl on the sidelines. I chose for my debut what I consider to be a quintessential party song:
"Bohemian Rhapsody". Now, in my car or at home by myself, I can sing this song perfectly. (Can't we all?)
But singing into a microphone while people listen carries its own special fear. What I learned: the gripping terror causes your throat to constrict, which then makes your performance go from "Rock Star" quality to warbling, wounded hyena until the shame forces you to either suffer myocardial infarction, wet yourself or flee. I came close to the heart-attack but, I held it together because that would have ruined the party. I didn't soil myself either. But the adrenalin rush was enough to carry me as I fled for the safety of my own home. I stand in awe of people who have the guts to do this without reservation. Even now, this remains one of my deepest fears. Being in the spotlight with all eyes on me. The churning stomach, cold sweaty hands, dry mouth, ringing in the ears, near swooning sensation are almost more than I can bear. Isn't that ridiculous? I am thankful that everyone there but me was inebriated enough that they couldn't accurately judge my dreadful singing.
On the upside, I discovered that Marshall & Chele are talented singers, perhaps even the new Sonny & Cher! In any case, it was fun and I was happy to spend some time getting to know my cousins.

Overall, it has been a perfect weekend.