When I was in the seventh grade, I was selected to be in the fancy all-girls’ concert choir at my school.  It was the only redeeming quality of middle school for me.  I had to wear a bright teal dress with a lace collar, and even that didn’t stop me from loving every minute of it.  For our Christmas concert, we performed, as the last number, the Hallelujah Chorus.  It was angelic.  The power built, and the crowd came to their feet, and it was all I could do to keep from weeping on the spot.  In fact, my voice cracked on the very last “…jah”.  I just couldn’t hold it together.  It was the first time I remember being truly moved by music.

And now, I’m 23, and 13 weeks pregnant, and I just watched this and wept.  You might not have the same reaction, if you’re not so into music, or if you’re not pregnant and hormonal, or if you have no heart.

You know the question.  ”What would you do with your life if money were no object?”  You know what I’d do?  I’d sing in a choir.

There’s never been a time when I felt more alive than when singing in a choir.  I can’t explain what it does to me.  I hope you know the feeling.   Maybe you get it in a different way, but I hope you know it.  Total elation, fingertips to toes.  Blood-pumping, gut-wrenching, heart-stirring elation.

And that’s my new year’s resolution.  Sing.  Be moved.  Weep.

Oh, and have a child.

Thursday.

Homeschooling, check.  Lunch at Long’s Drug Store, check.  Bananagrams, check.

I’m feeling ultra girly today.  I just painted my nails and am two parts enamored, one part nauseated by the Barbie-ness of them.  (Side note on the Barbie issue–I wasn’t allowed to have them.  I applaud my parents for keeping her ill-formed body out of my psyche.) The good news is, they match my scarf.  They’re about as pink as a thing can possibly be.  Here’s the thing about my nails.  When I was around seven years old, I watched The Parent Trap for the first time–the one with Hayley Mills.  Hayley Mills taught me to bight my fingernails.  I saw her do it, and I wondered what it would be like, and I haven’t stopped since.  It’s been sixteen years.  Thanks for almost everything, Hayley.  So I’m trying to stop.  It’s been five days.  So far, so good.

I think cold weather makes me want things.  Here’s my theory.  With cold weather comes Christmas.  With Christmas come gifts and greed.  Pavlog’s dogs and whatnot.

I suppose that’s it for today–painting my nails and wanting things.  Vapid.