Today we had rehearsal #2, we singing girls. We are trying to come up with a name for ourselves, as my ensemble-mates are quite enthusiastic about taking our act on the road and we can't really call ourselves Singing Girls. It was a good rehearsal. I recorded it, which was GREAT because now we can hear what we sound like. You can't really hear what you sound like while singing. Not completely. I listened to the CD all the way home and liked what I heard, in general. nothing that can't be fixed with practice, practice, practice by ourselves and then intense rehearsal together. (Sounds fun, right? It is!) Some things I was hearing I positively swooned over, and at the other end of the spectrum, my classical voice sounds like a rusty old tin can. We are working on a Monteverdi madrigal, plus a gospel song (Note to Self: practice singing and clapping at the same time. A lot.), a sweet love song by Gillian Welch and Because by the Beatles. The girls want to sing somewhere publically in April. Yikes! (That's a happy yikes. Be careful what you wish for!)
I actually got up (okay, it was accidentally) at 7am and went for a run this morning. It's so much easier to go on my own, although I have run pushing T in the stroller and it's totally do-able. It was sunny and cold this morning; really beautiful. I got a few cheers from neighborhood buddies who probably thought they needed new glasses to see the likes of me jogging around the corner! It felt good. :)
And the real highlight of the week: yesterday I submitted a piece of writing to an online magazine. I am trying to let go of any attachment to the outcome, but of course I am fantasizing about being published and what a rush that would be. I have to take to heart everything I'm sayng about how it is not necessary that I be published to be good, that my piece might be spectacular but not what they're looking for, that it might come in a close second to another piece that's completely brilliant and that's okay. Or the editor might say, uh, this is crap. And thats okay too because I'm not crap. I am just proud of myself for doing it. I added about 300 words to something I had previously written, and spent a few hours getting it just so. I had a wicked knot in my stomach as I was typing out the email, including my bio, which is so tiny you might miss it if you blink. Then I sent it. It was a high just to send it, to be perfectly honest. It's all good. I'll do it again, whatever happens here.
Tomorrow hubbie has a pretty major gig - his band is opening up for the one and only Ralph Stanley. This week has been the closest in a long time, if not ever, to what I want my life to look like. It's been a good week.