Monday, January 28, 2008

Silent Night, Not-Quite Holy Night

Ah, Bloggy Friends (I know, that's rather presumptuous of me, sorry), I have nothing sweet/lovely/delightful/charming to share today. Nothing of any interest has happened, not even anything embarrassing or ironic which I could find a way to spin into a marginally humorous story to share with you all.

It's that time of year. That time when I desperately need a ripping good snowstorm. The loveliness of it, the sparkle, the softness, the instinct to hole-up inside and create warm, hearty, rib-clinging food with which to nourish and revitalize my rosy-cheeked children upon their return from their tramp through the frosty expanse beyond the laundry room door. Snow Days, sledding hills, Snow Men guarding the driveway, dull, padded footsteps, toasty, padded coats and mittens...ah, I hope it's all on it's way soon.

It's also that time of year when people get sick. And our household has not escaped unscathed. Both children are just now getting over a lingering 2-week cough with which everyone seems to have taken a turn. Nothing too horrible, just enough to make them sleep a little more and be a little more cranky (and miss a little more school). And now, it seems to be my turn.

I have laryngitis. If I'm going to get sick, it's most likely going to settle in my throat or chest. I don't often get head colds, but I do get bronchitis about once a year and the laryngitis seems to be cropping up with some regularity as well. Which is no fun at all for a singer. Not to mention someone who likes to talk as much as I do. I had to stop myself no less than three times from talking to myself today. It was embarrassingly hard to do.

Also, I have two children, one of whom is a 12-year-old girl who, I found out today, requires a lot of talking to in order to maintain good behavior. Nothing like an evening of forced muteness because each word you speak causes you great discomfort to show you how many times you typically repeat yourself with your children. That should explain the above photo. I spent most of the evening hissing at them. I was appalled. At them and myself.

Add to that nonsense the fact that I have a singing gig this weekend and you'll understand why I'm just irritated beyond measure. The Viking and I are providing the musical entertainment for a Valentine's Day-themed dinner at the fire station on Saturday. It's a fundraiser for the fire department's new building. We're pulling out all our old jazz standards and bringing a drummer with us and singing/playing softly in the background while people wine and dine to their hearts' content.

We had a rehearsal this evening and I am most concerned about my vocal health. We had to lower each and every song by at least 3 keys and go over just the most necessary bars of each song so I could sing as little as possible, but I'm still completely worn out. I don't know if my voice has ever been this tired and scratchy. We kept joking that my new "whiskey and cigarettes" voice might actually work pretty well for this venue, but I'm not worried about sounding okay. I'm worried about doing actual damage to my voice by using it in this state.

So, I've decided I am not going to speak at all from now until Friday night when I have another rehearsal, in hopes of allowing my voice maximum time in which to heal for the gig. This will be, quite possibly, the biggest challenge of my life. No talking for three, almost four, days? Not even to call my children, tell a joke to my husband or yell at the evening news? No singing in the shower, scolding the dog, laughing on the phone or cheering at Red Headed Snippet's basketball game? This means no cell phone, no drive-throughs, no bedtime stories and no amusing myself with British accents (don't even ask). I just don't know how I'll manage. Mom told me to take a notepad and pen everywhere, but I can just imagine how little patience I will have with that.

In other news this is Spirit Week at the kids' school which means each day has its very own "crazy" theme, the preparations for which will require us all to wake at least 30 minutes earlier each morning. Today was Beach Day which turned out to be not so much fun in late January. Also, the office sent home a notice informing us that bathing suits, flip-flops, nor short shorts would be permitted. But have a fun Beach Day!

Tomorrow is Crazy Hair/Crazy Hat Day. Red Headed Snippet lives for this day each year. It's kind of her thing. She begins planning it months in advance. In fact, she's had this year's selection planned since May. That's right, May. That was when my mother and Daria returned from Scotland with a Balmoral for her. She declared right then and there that it would be worn with pride on next year's Crazy Hair/Crazy Hat Day. Which is tomorrow. She's arranging her hair in two braids and topping it with the Balmoral. I am going to try very hard to remember to get a photo to share for she looks darling in that bonnet. No word, yet, on what Man-Cub's choice will be. I suppose he is going to see what inspires him 5 minutes before departure time.

For those interested, Wednesday is Rainbow Day (um, what?), Thursday is 70's Day (no platform shoes allowed and someone please tell me how this is going to look any different from any other school day?) and Friday is the perennial favorite, Comfy/Cozy Day: pajamas and slippers in school! Yay!

I hope to get lots of photos that will make the earlier alarm clock setting worthwhile.

Well, for someone with nothing to share, I sure took up a lot of blog space. Guess I'd better get myself to bed. I have a full day of not speaking to look forward to tomorrow. Actually...maybe it would be better if I just stay up all night so I can sleep my mute day away tomorrow...

Good night.

1 comment:

Amongst The Oaks said...

And I thought I was the only one who entertained herself with crazy British accents!
So sorry to hear about your laryngitis. I've never had it, but with two kids I can see how it would be a big PROBLEM.
Since I've gone low-carb I haven't been sick in ages. Something about stabilizing your metabolism; the little cooties can't get a foot in the door. I'm only telling you this cause I luv ya, but maybe give it a try.
Hugs, Laura