Tuesday, September 8, 2009

While introducing my daughter to the Getty Museum this past holiday weekend, she became very inspired by the masters in the impressionist room to practice her vocal projection and duration, much to the dismay of the other guests. This is when we relocated her powerful lungs to the garden area outside where she could shout in the wind to her heart’s desire.

As my mother would say, she gets it honest. I just made a trip to the store by myself, rolled up the windows and rocked out to Joan Jett. I can only pray the Lilliputian doesn’t inherit her tone-deaf mother’s vocally challenged genes…


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