Monday night . . .

. . . I did not write. Surely there is a reason for such madness. Surely the world has come to an end for me to forgo the journey - the absolute pleasure, except on the days when I'm blocked (boy, that sounds wrong) - of writing.

Alas, no such calamity - world ending event - has occurred. I did not write because my mind was soaring across the boundaries of music. Song after song - at quite a high volume, I might add - issued forth from the speakers and I, as off key as my mother, sang right along with the music. Linda Eder - Man of La Mancha (boy, can she belt 'em out or what????). Glen Carter - Gethsemane (from Jesus Christ Superstar 2001 - I absolutely adore this version of the musical, the best vision ever). Then there were songs from Chess, Jekyll & Hyde (yes, more Linda Eder), The Scarlett Pimpernel, oh, and some Christmas music as well - Josh Groban, Bare Naked Ladies, Lorrie Morgan, Celtic Woman, Il Divo . . .). Ahh, the joys of music. In fact, it was a feast of music.

In music . . . there is inspiration. With music . . . my fingers fly faster across the keyboard and my imagination soars to unimaginable heights.

So, I did not write Monday night, but in no way did my creative juices sit idle. In no way did I slack off and - heaven forfend - do nothing. I sang, my friends (again, quite off key, it is an inherited trait - we don't allow Mom to even sing in Church, so sad, so sad indeed), and I let the music surround me, encompass (yes, pretty much the same as surround, but I like the word) me, caress me, and carry me to far away places.

I was . . . the music of the night (sorry, couldn't resist)!

S

Note: As I've mentioned, dear Mother cannot sing. Do you know that she was president of the glee club in high school? I kid you not. My sisters and I were absolutely stunned when we discovered that intriguing little fact about dear old Mom. Then again, there were only 13 people in her graduating class, and she might have been the best of the singers!! Seriously, we love Mom to death, but you really don't want to hear her sing. There was one time in Church when Mom started - quite loudly, and definitely off key - singing. My sister elbowed my mother, which I happened to see. All three of us began to laugh in Church. I'm sure the priest didn't appreciate it, but we sure did. I'm just saying . . .