I admit it. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a famous singer. Of course, I was terrified to perform in front of anyone other than my family. And seriously, thank God no one had a movie camera back then, because I do not want to see the footage they would have captured from those horrifyingly embarrassing days gone by. But as willing as I was to humiliate myself to the background tracks of Sonny and Cher, in full costume no less, I was hardly flaunting my “talent” for the masses. Still…a girl can dream, right?
Well, it looks like my dreams have come true.
I was invited to perform at a grand opening. Oh yes…on a stage. With an audience. Of people. At least mostly people. There might be farm animals. I mean, it’s a grand opening of a flea market, so I’m not really sure what it would entail. But it’s directly across the street from a tractor store, so that’s the big time…right?
Ok, maybe not the big time, but it was definitely flattering. Not everyone was asked to sing. Just me. And don’t laugh (or do, I don’t care) I’m actually thinking about doing it. Mostly because I’d feel guilty not showing up after such a lovely invitation. Besides, it’s not like the offers are rolling in, you know? This might be the last time someone asks me to sing at their flea market. How can I turn that shit down? And everyone knows I love a good flea market as much as the next girl. I might even find some cool, over-looked antiques there. Or some dusty relics. Who knows. I might run into someone famous-ish. Even more famous-ish than me. Hey, I might even have fun.
And isn’t that what it’s all about anyway?
Until the next time…I’ll be practicing my Patsy Cline.