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.: 1.02.2013 

Hello, 2013

I had a much better time than I expected when I headed over to the Spradlin's for their New Year's Day shindig. I was nervous about meeting new people, and it didn't help that Sarah kept introducing me as brilliant and a hoot -- talk about pressure! (Also, I'm not sure enough I'm quite old enough to be a hoot yet. I think you have to be over 40.) I hunkered down by K.T. and began to knit defensively, which is where you knit so that you know you won't have to talk to people past the "is that knit or crochet?" or "what are you making?" and "is that wool?" I've never been quite comfortable in a room full of women, no matter how nice they all seem.

Thankfully K.T. took me on a tour to see Sarah's studio (and DAYUM if I don't have studio envy!!), which is on the top floor of the garage. The garage is fancy and heated and accordingly called The Taj Garage (which doesn't rhyme if you say it Britishly). As we came down, we realized there was a game of Garage Band going on, which is to say that there were six guitarists on the main floor of the garage, hiding away from the womenfolk, playing mostly classic rock with some blues, rockabilly, Beatles, and southern rock mixed in. It was Cream's "Sunshine of Your Love" when I walked in, and I could't help but join in on the chorus, which got me some approving nods.

I love classic rock, but my voice isn't very suited to it, and I was appalled to realize I didn't really know much of the lyrics, only the choruses. K.T. loaned me her smartphone so I could look up lyrics, and I strained to keep my voice darkened enough to match the music, but did pretty well. I managed to feel fairly comfortable until they tried to get me to take the mic, the mere thought of which made me woozy. Mostly I was pretty hard to hear over the guitars, until "G-L-O-R-I-A" and "Take Another Little Piece of My Heart," when I got a little showy. Occasionally I took the role of percussionist, slapping out a rhythm on the harmonica player's guitar body, because you can't have six guitarists in a room without someone to wrangle them. Three hours later, I was pretty well done for in the voice box, and the harmonica player told me I had a beautiful voice, that my harmonies were spot-on and tight, and that I should get a band. I about melted into a puddle on the spot, and probably would have if I didn't also have a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach at the thought of singing in front of strangers. ("That's no different than what you did tonight," said one of the other guitarists. But it is. It is. Oh, it is.)

All in all, if every day of 2013 is only half as awesome as yesterday, then yes, please. I am all in.

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