Dear Seattle: I’m Coming! Leave the Light On!

What do you get when you cross an aging soprano (you should never cross an aging soprano), a brilliant organist/pianist/all-around-musician, a wonderful English Handbell-ist . . . Handbell-er . . . Handbell-player . . . an old church renovated into a concert hall, some harp, and an inspired violinist?

You get my trip to Seattle this week.

Add to that "The Deathly Hallows, Part 2," some divine Seattle food, lovely kick-back time at my brother and his partner's awesome digs, vocal instruction, reminiscing, chatting, watching TV show collections, shopping, and picking up a few French cooking tips, and you get:

My superfabuloso trip to Seattle this week.

Ohhhhhyeahhhhhh. This week comes my always highly needed and anticipated get away to sing and perform with my brothahs and several other musician friends (who will become friends once I meet them. I hope) at the Daniels Recital hall in downtown Seattle. It's a great experience. I learn a ton, get a lovely break, wear out my welcome, and return home a much nicer person. My family is grateful. I am grateful. Hopefully peoples' eardrums will be at least somewhat happy to have me, and certain other people won't want to drop-kick me back out of town before my stay is over.

I am a bit nervous, though. My songs this year sit in the stratosphere of the soprano range, and while I can sing them, I am getting old. In the past two months menopause–or something an awful lot like it–has begun kicking in and all of my bodily fluids are drying up. I wake up in the mornings with my eyelids stuck to my eyeballs. The oil slick that has been my skin-type is veering dangerously toward desert scape. And I'm pretty much parched all the time. 

This is so not good for the female voice.

So, I am hoping to not sound like a wounded water buffalo when I go to hit the high notes. And the low notes. And the medium notes. I don't want to cause inner ear-trauma. I don't want to make International Artists regret bringing me out there. So, I shall ingest fire truck-loads of liquid before Tuesday, vocalize like crazy, and pray. You pray too. Maybe between the bunches of us things will work out and the songs will be everything people want to hear.

One thing is certain: Seattle audiences are always kind and gracious, so even if they think I sound like a sprained whooping crane, they won't say it. They'll applaud and smile and make me want to return to sing another day. It's the Seattle way.

And the dudes I'm hanging with? They're that way too. Which is why I love going there.

So, hey Seattle. I'm greasing up my vocal chords and packing my music. Leave the door unlocked, the piano tuned, and the umbrella waiting. I'll see you in a jiff.

About Janiel 432 Articles
I have managed to keep the same husband for nearly three decades, and the same four children for almost that long - although one or two of them say it has been much longer. I have been writing since I learned to hold a pencil, and trying to make people laugh even longer. I hope to do some good in the world before I go the way of it. And if not, I'd better at least get to visit Ireland.

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