Here’s a quick little health update. I have been reunited with my butt. I know some of you were worried about the fact that I couldn’t find it, so I thought I’d let you be the first to know that we are together again. Roaman Carcinoma was kind enough to let me know in his own inimitable way, just exactly where it’s been hiding. I have also gained four pounds which tells me Roaman has been feasting on my white blood cells. I had that confirmed when I went to get my chemotherapy and was told that my white blood cell count was far too low for a treatment. The doctor did mention that this could be an indication that chemo is working overtime, so I’m hoping that what Roaman’s doing there is pulling up his roots and getting the heck out of Dodge and not actually tunneling in for more space. I’ll have to wait until next week for CT results to let me know for sure. In any event, I won’t be wearing my American Eagle slim jeans for the next while.
Those of you who know me well enough, know that I’m a music lover. This is a fact that I keep rediscovering and it’s always like a brand new revelation.
What is that beautiful sound? If this sound had a taste it would be just exactly like my Mom’s homemade raspberry pie. Music, you say. Why, yes I remember it now. I used to listen to this stuff all the time and all kinds of other gorgeous noise that made me feel full and happy inside. How could I have forgotten this or left it out of my life for even a day. Oh, that’s right. I was busy being poor little me who deserves no pleasure. Well, glad that little bout is over. Where’s my Nashville soundtrack?
You remember that feeling you get when you first meet someone and you just know you’re going to fall in love? That person is stuck in your mind and they’re all you can or want to think about. If you’re lucky, that feeling never really goes away, but thank heavens it gets a little more reasonable with its constant demands. That’s the kind of relationship that I have with music. This is such a good, great thing, but it can also be such a bad, disastrous thing. I seem to indulge in a form of self-flagellation by denying myself the things I love. For example, chocolate, but I’m especially brutal when it comes to music. If things aren’t quite going my way, I will actually pull away from it altogether instead of completely immersing myself in it.
Just last week, Virtignia and I were out for a short walk and for the first time in months, I put my iPod on. Fortunately Virtidge bops around inside my head, so we can share the same equipment. I decided to indulge and played just the free stuff that I get from iTunes in French and English. Almost without exception, I can say that every song is a great one and I’m constantly amazed that these folks aren’t raking in millions and having huge sold out tours. I’d be lying if I told you that the thought of sitting in their packed audience enjoying their sold-out show doesn’t put a great big smile on my face. Seriously. I want to dance down the street, but I’m still too shy to do stuff like that. Not to mention that the cane would be somewhat of an impediment. Although I could use it as a prop if I had the right accessories.
I’m happy to say that I can still get so lost in my own head when I’ve got music playing in it, I will frequently break out into song wherever I am. Just a line mind you, but right out loud. I did that a few months ago and really startled the poor lady standing next to me. Unfortunately for her the song I was listening to was Dreams by Fleetwood Mac and the line that I randomly chose was “I keep my visions to myself”. That was probably pretty creepy for her but I thought it was kind of funny. She did tell me that I have a nice voice, however she might have been afraid that I would hex her or something.
I’ve been having a lot of trouble with my throat these last few months; some kind of “consider yourself at home forever” kind of laryngitis. Some days a whisper is all I can manage and if you’ve ever had any voice training at all, you’ll likely know that whispering is the worst kind of torture you can inflict on a voice. Most days I just sound like Betty Boop and that’s not quite what I’m after either. I really want to be able to go back to sing to my old folks sometime in the near future, so I’m hoping they’ll soon figure out what’s wrong and fix it. I’ll sing Ramblin’ Rose as many times as they like, I promise.
In the old days, I actually held some ambition of really pursuing a musical career, but time and the erosion of my poor voice has kept me on a more realistic track. I still think that if I could get my pipes back in shape, I might be able to do the odd gig here and there, but I know that even if I were younger, and more talented, I wouldn’t want the lifestyle that goes with it. It’s a good thing I’m well past the age that there’d be any danger of me becoming some kind of out-of-control pop star idol.
I’m quite happy with the way things were back when I was still able to get an evening or even a set in. At performances, when I would introduce myself as Renelle Rico-Guerrero, I always used to joke that though I would never become a big name in music, at least I could be a looong one. Pa-rum-pum! I take laughs wherever I can get them.
Music does have it’s little jokes with me too, so it’s not just one-sided. I have a demo CD that I recorded when I was with a quintet called the Alias Tim Reed Quintet. It consists of three songs and so help me no matter how many times I try to update it, when I make copies, the song names invariably come up correctly, but artist name always says “Unknown Artist”. Funny ha-ha!
My sister Jo-Anne is coming to visit this week. So excited!! I wonder what next week’s blog will be about? If it’s not about Jo-Anne’s visit and I mention that my husband is mad at me, you’ll know we had a really great week 🙂
Before I sign off, I need to share with you something that happened to me this week that still makes me tear up, laugh and especially want to sing. There is this hat that I fell in love with and decided that I need to knit it for my daughters, Julie, Jessica and moi. We all tried to order it and ran into some kind of problem. (Insert your joke here.) In any case, I posted a whine on what I thought was Pinterest (you can see how the problems I have become a little more obvious right?) and there it was right on Facebook. In any case, little angels were working behind the scenes and managed to secure me not one but three copies of the pattern. Forgive me my little music cliché, but I would call that perfect harmony.
I hope you enjoy this song. Love me like music by Heart.
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