Accordion Awareness

My favorite cousin, Pam, sent me an email with this link in it.

Did I mention she's my favorite?

I am so SUPER excited! Not only is it Accordion Awareness Month, but June 6th is apparently Donut Day! (Although their spelling of 'dounut' is driving me INSANE!!)

So, in honor of Accordion Awareness Month, I present to you this short video clip.



Stay tuned for Saturday when I pay the proper respect for Donut Day (incidentally, my new favorite holiday).

You May Play Rock Band Too Often If...

Our children's Primary at church is having a talent show this Friday. They will be sharing any and every talent under the sun with the residents of a care center in our neighborhood.

On Sunday I asked Princess (age 6) if she was going to do anything at the talent show. She said that she asked one of the teachers if she could sing "Dirty Little Secret". The teacher responded that "Pretty Little Secrets" sounded like a nice song and Princess said,

"Not Pretty Little Secrets, DIRTY Little Secret!"

The teacher asked if maybe she could think of another song.

I am just glad she didn't ask to sing her other favorite Rock Band song... the one she calls "Rock Sand".

I am a bad mommy.

Just To Clarify...

I sure appreciate all the ego-boosting comments that were left after my last post. I promise, I wasn't having a pity party - although (Allen pointed out) it may have appeared that way. Here's what I mean when I say no one appreciates my specialness...

I have many rare talents.

For example, I can pretend I know all the words to any song on the radio by filling in my own words when I'm not sure what is being said. You know that song, "Bubbly" by Colbie Caillat? I love singing that one... It starts in my toes and I crinkle my nose and that just shows that I'm good with prose. You make me smile, please stay for awhile now or else I will stalk you wherever you go. See what I mean? It's a gift.

You know how the overhead music at the grocery store occasionally plays a dancing song - one you just want to groove to? Well, I don't hold back. When my body wants to move to the music, I oblige. Who cares that the 20-somethings (and my kids) are mocking me? Usually an offer of some soft-serve changes their minds - and occasionally Coolister or Thumbelina will even bust a few dance moves right along with me. (note to self: Try offering soft-serve to the 20-somethings to loosen them up. You know they wish they were you.)

When my kids get invited to a last-minute birthday party I can craft a gift with some random supplies like felt and eyelets within a half hour. I mean, I'm sort of like McGyver, but with a sewing machine. Does it get any better than that?

I have a knack for using the word poop around my kids whenever possible, mostly because it makes them giggle nervously. (Why is everyone afraid of that word? Everyone does it. What's the big whoop?)

I can remember sayings from my childhood at the most convenient times. For example:
Random Person: Shut up!
Me: I don't shut up, I grow up. But when I look at you, I throw up.

I can also push a cart full of kids, pull a cart full of groceries and carry a baby on my hip, all while finding the best price on peanut butter. Are you catching my drift here? Specialness.

But how is all this talent received by those I spend most of my time with (a.k.a. my children)? With eye rolls and exasperated sighs.

But secretly, I think they love it. So I'll keep trying my best to really let all my specialness shine through.

Play That Funky Music

As mentioned before, I have long been a fan of music. As a child I can remember seeing people play the guitar or piano and thinking, "Cool! I want to do that someday." And then my chance came.

Band Day in the gym of my middle school!

Band Day was the day that everyone who wanted to be in band could come see what instruments were available and sign a contract to rent or buy one from various vendors. My parents asked if we wanted to go. I did!!

There were no pianos.

There were no guitars.

What to do? I was so excited to be allowed to choose an instrument that I decided to make the best of things. My parents allowed me to choose an instrument on my own, so off I went to find the perfect fit.

The violin looked pretty cool, and a lot of people were talking to the violin guy, so it must be popular. It sorta looked like a guitar... but my oldest brother had played violin for about 3 days when he was younger. He would pull it out of its case, lay the bow across the strings and saw away, all the while chanting, "Grab your partner and swing her 'round! Yeeeeeeeehaw!" Good memories, but bad times for the violin.

I kept looking.

The flute was a pretty instrument. I could see myself like the pied piper, playing beautiful melodies that attracted crowds of people ... nah.

I kept looking.

The saxophone? The xylophone? I couldn't lift the tuba...

And there he was.

A man in the corner of the gym, all alone with his instrument. No one at his table. He was looking down at the floor, maybe wondering why he had come. I knew how it felt to be alone, ignored. Having no one talk to you.

I breathed in, let out a deep sigh, and made my way to his table. He looked up at me and smiled. "So, you're interested in learning the accordion?"

And the rest is history. I was an accordion player, doomed to one instrument for the rest of my life.

My first year of college I decided to take a guitar class. I learned the chords, I practiced until my fingers were calloused, but I could not master it. I finally gave the guitar to my younger brother, who had more ability than I.

My husband bought me a piano for Christmas back when we had only 2 little ones, and I took lessons for a short time, but I could not get the hang of it. I guess in my case the saying is true - you can't teach an old dog new tricks. So I am forever doomed to only have one musical talent: the accordion. (And I use the term "talent" rather loosely...)

So, if you want someone to accompany you on the piano or play the guitar around a campfire, you'll have to ask someone else.

But if you ever feel the need for some funky polka music, give me a call.