I don't sing in front of people.
I'm so singing-phobic that I've never joined a choir or talent show. I have performed in two musicals, but I refused to participate unless I could have no singing parts. I am so freaked out about public singing that I secretly took singing lessons in high school and never told anyone, including my boyfriend and best friend.
I sing in front of my husband. That's how much I love him.
But only occasionally. And only because he's a pretty bad singer himself.
I like to sing, though, and when I'm alone in the house, I belt it out. I know I probably sound like those awful people who get made fun of on American Idol, but I let it rip when no one's around.
And with my husband gone, no one's around very often!
I just got home from a trip back to my hometown. Three days of driving in the car alone. I listened to an entire 18 hours of a book-on-tape, I listened to political coverage of the convention, and this morning as I was driving my last leg of the trip, I was getting sleepy and was having a hard time keeping my mind alert.
Luckily, there's Elvis.
I've always loved Elvis. When my family would go to the local pizza joint when I was a kid, my parents would give us a quarter. Sometimes I'd choose to play Super Mario Brothers, but often I'd put my quarter in the jukebox. And I always chose "All Shook Up."
I love young Elvis. I love fat Elvis.
I love how scandalous this was, even though it seems quaint now.
There's no falling asleep at the wheel when "Burning Love" is on. And I missed my husband a lot when I heard the words to "The Wonder Of You." I played that Elvis CD three times in a row, singing at the top of my lungs. Elvis took me through three states today.
It would've been nice to have my husband here to keep me company on the car ride, but the next best thing was Elvis.
