Don't Look Now!

I love my mother...she just tends to worry about everyone and everything. I know it's because she loves me.

Driving is not her forte since she drives as if everything around her car is a hazard as it moves down the street. As a result, the Buick doesn't make it even close to the posted speed limit. Precious.

I remember driving the family minivan with my parents to college one Fall. The entire van was stuffed with unnecessary items, but precious to any college student who would call them her possessions. My sister listened to her walkman, while my dad snoozed next to her. My mother had the privilege of sitting in the passenger seat beside me during our trek up to Minnesota.

I'm sure I was rockin' out to some classic rock when my mom suddenly froze in fear and attempted to get my attention without being a distraction. Her voice quivered as she tried her hardest to let me focus on the road.

"Karen! Don't look now...but there's a deer driving that car!"

How am I not supposed to look? Excuse me? A deer? Driving a car? I quickly turned my head 90 degrees to see a deer in the driver's seat next to us. I must admit that I, too, was taken aback at what I saw.

Upon closer observation, I noticed that the car was being towed by the SUV in front of it. The driver thought it would be humorous to put a deer head in the driver's seat. I started to chuckle. Not so much at the fact that I saw a driving deer. But more at the fact that my mom expected me to continue driving without distraction.

High School Musical

My freshman year of high school was difficult, and quite honestly, I try to block the entire year from my memory. One memorable situation, however, will not go away.

After hearing me audition for a solo in class, my choir director encouraged me to audition for a role in the spring musical, "Brigadoon." It was a play about a town in Scotland that only appeared for one day every 100 years. It was a magical tale with a bit of love and violence thrown in the mix.

The only role I had had prior to entering high school was as a hobbit in fifth grade. I wore a green tie-dyed shirt and large ears. The beauty of the part was that I didn't have to memorize any lines.

The thought of auditioning for a role in the spring musical intimidated me, but I figured it would be a good experience.
The day of the audition will forever be imprinted on my mind...

I waited outside the auditorium doors to hear my name called. Upon entering, the "panel" (consisting of the director, choreographer, and my choir teacher) sat in the middle of the vast room while I stood on stage by myself, alone.

"Okay, Karen. Please sing the song we rehearsed."

I belted out the musical's ballad and felt pretty good about how it went. The three adults were grinning ear-to-ear, apparently impressed with what they heard. My choir director glanced at them as if to say, "See...I told you."

Unfortunately, the audition wasn't over.

"Great job, Karen. Now we'd like you to read some lines from the script. You'll notice that your lines are written in Scottish dialect. This will make it easier for you to read with the proper accent."

The director continued to read my lines with the appropriate accent and then encouraged me to give it a try. The line read, "Oh Tommy. Ye don't have to if ye don't want to."

Sounded simple enough.

At that moment, I lost all respect from everyone in the room...including myself. I proceeded to recite the lines I had in my hand. However, instead of reading these simple words with a simple Scottish accent, I recited them with an Indian accent.

A look of terror came over me. I looked out into the audience and there were stares of confusion. I'm sure they were thinking, "Why would she use an Indian accent? If she can't read it with a Scottish dialect, why wouldn't she just read it without any accent at all?" I have to admit that the same thoughts were going through my head too. But, for some reason, I felt that I HAD to read the lines with an accent (whether it was accurate or not), and this was the only accent I knew.

"Okay, Karen. Let's try this again. Listen carefully as I read the lines with a Scottish accent."

A look of pain covered my face as I repeated eloquently (with an Indian accent, of course), "Oh Tommy, ye don't have to if ye don't want to."

Why were they doing this to me? Please make it stop! I obviously am incapable of speaking with a Scottish accent. Apparently, the "panel" was determined to give me a lead role and had a difficult time accepting the fact that I embodied an Indian actor.

"Karen, we're going to try this one more time. I want you to listen carefully as I say the lines."

Please no. I can't go through this again. I followed the direction I was given and delivered the lines in the same dialect I had used before, except this time I posed it as a question, "Oh Tommy. Ye don't have to if ye don't want to?"

"Thank you Karen. Roles will be posted on the bulletin board on Monday."

I hung my head and left the stage.

Sure enough...the posting showed that I had been placed in the "Acapella Choir." It was obvious that such a role would not have any speaking parts.

Let's just say I didn't let this experience ruin the rest of my life. I can now produce a mean Scottish accent.

The Vacation of a Lifetime

We just returned from our first vacation in six years. We had the best time hanging out with my best friend and her husband. There wasn't a dull moment throughout the week, but I think you need to read her blog to get a true perspective of what went down.

Check out her most recent post (April 2, 2007):
http://nicoletardiworld.blogspot.com/

Grounded

Being teased by my older brothers was a natural occurrence growing up. One of my favorite stories has to do with the time my best friend (and next door neighbor) came over to play on a cold winter day. She asked my mom, "Why is there food hanging outside Kevin's bedroom window?" Of course this puzzled my mother. Kevin (my brother) had been grounded and punished to his bedroom for a couple of days (something he considered to be torturous).

When my mother went upstairs to inspect my friend's claims, she found a 2-liter bottle of soda and a ziploc bag of deli-sliced ham hanging outside his window from a 12-foot piece of string. Apparently Kevin felt as if he'd been "imprisoned" for days on end, and stored his rations outside his bedroom window...which only makes sense. At least he had the decency to keep the ham in cold temperatures so that it wouldn't spoil. Now that's thinking ahead.