Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Wednesday, January 21, 2004

I am the New American Idol

Reba took Ashley to clarinet practice last night, so after supper I turned on American Idol as I was cleaning up the dishes and watched it with the three younger kids. They get the biggest kick out of it, and since they all have reasonable singing voices, even Catherine can pick out the stinkers. I'm just waiting for her to say "bloody awful."

Anyway, they were having a good time, and then the guy came on who did his personal interpretation of Somewhere Over the Rainbow. Eyes rolled back in his head, lots of arm waving, trills and tremolo and stumbling runs of off-key caterwauling. He finished up and was promptly flayed, and as the commercial was coming on, I launched into the first couple of lines while standing at the dishwasher.

Jonathan swiveled his head around with a look of utter surprise--"DAD!! You could be the American Idol!!"

I just laughed--"Son, I'm a bit too old for American Idol. Maybe American Geezer."

"Well, if you weren't so old, you could be the American Idol for EVERY YEAR THEY HAVE IT!! You're GOOD Daddy!"

Man, I live for constant positive reinforcement. You will never find anyone else in the world, other than your kids, who think--who know--you are the bestest singer and brain surgeon and dish washer and trick shot and bug catcher and joke teller and lion tamer in the whole world.

That's pretty hard to beat.

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