For as long as I can remember, my life has been about singing (hence songbird takes flight, in case you were wondering). I have sang in church since I was four and I loved it but when I started singing classical music, specifically opera, I really came alive. I am an ok pop singer, I'm a great classical singer.
It's been an interesting week for me musically. It started Tuesday night when I stopped at Walgreens on my way home from rehearsal because I needed red lipstick for this concert (that I bought four kinds in an attempt to find one that doesn't look orange on me is beside the point). The cashier was someone I knew in high school (vaguely) and the first thing he remembered about me was that I sing. In fact he remembered that before he remembered my actual name (he called me Katie. Close but no cigar). I guess that says something about me and the track my life has been on.
With the whole graduating from college, moving back home, and working full time thing, my performing has kind of gone by the way side. I sing a lot, obviously, but not as a classical soloist. For this opera concert, I got to do some acting bits as a flirtatious gypsy girl. Twice. As one of two women in the entire chorus under the age of 30 (possibly the age of 40. I thought it would be rude to ask though) I am automatically the person to do the roll of the "pretty young thing" if it comes up. I wish I had video to show you of my on stage flirting endeavours but alas and alack. Me and my seductive red lipstick flirted with two hot guys banging on an anvil in one number, and a bull fighter in another. It was fun to pretend, offering my most sultry smile and getting to squeeze an extremely hot guy's bicep before he and another gentleman fight for my affections. An extremely talented baritone also got all up in my business for a brief moment for the Toreador aria and chorus (though I would have admittedly enjoyed getting all up in the business of one of those anvil guys more...).
This is especially fun for me to play because there isn't a seductive bone in my body. I am a good little Christian girl with good little Christian girl morals and no intentions of changing that. I am told I am extremely flirtatious but I don't do it on purpose (usually). The other ladies in the chorus were encouraging me to go for one of the hot anvil guys and I attempted flirtation until I realized he had a girlfriend. Poo.
Speaking of poo (I know, what a seque, right?), on to my geriatric dachshund. The poor thing will be fourteen on May 1st which is quite old for any dog and he had developed some issues with his digestion. That is beside the point. The point is that I am owned by an eleven pound, stone deaf, bossy, needy, little dachshund. In fact my whole family is and has been for the last (almost) 14 years. We got him as a puppy when I was still in grade school and now here I am, all gradu-ma-tated from college and stuffs and still owned by this little dog.
|I mean, how can you possibly resist this face?|
Notice I said owned by. I'm not entirely sure you can own a dachshund; a dachshund owns you and most people I know who are lovers of the breed will agree. There is just something about weiner dogs and their personalities that leave little to conclude other than that you belong to them. And not the other way around, no sir. He is a spoiled ROTTEN little pooch who for a time, even had my mother cooking his meals for him. That's right, she was a dog chef. But when you look at these pictures, you'll know why there was no resisting.
|Do you really need to bring the camera out here? I was having fun exploring!|
|Now put that down. You could be doing other things. Like feeding me.|
|*huff* If you insist, I will do the "staring off into the sunset" pose you seem to like so much.|
|I give up. I'm taking a nap now.|