It's been weeks now since the serial killer car we owned was bashed in the side and went, thankfully, to the great Avalon heap of parts on the west side of town somewhere. In it's place is the new Avalon, plumb colored, limited edition, so fancy it makes my head spin. It's not brand new, but it's new enough and smooth as a porcelain door knob. A little luxury is a fine thing.
Most important of all, the CD player works (the last one never worked) and I can now sing in my car again. Singing in the car is one of life's great uppers, and I didn't realize how much I missed it until I got it back. I sing with Carly Simon, The Everly Brothers, Fred Astaire, John Denver, Jimmy Durante, Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald, Beatles and one song of ACDC: "I Feel Safe in New York City." I need to buy the Four Coins, so I can sing with that tenor. I am a tenor now.
We have a good church choir and I joined for two weeks and quit, because I couldn't sing alto anymore. Too high. It wasn't fun. I explained this to the conductor and he suggested I sing tenor. "I don't think tenors like women tenors," I said. He said that was hogwash. I'm reconsidering.
I attracted Tom with my siren songs fifty plus years ago. I sang, "Embraceable You" and "You're Just too Marvelous, Too Marvelous for Words." He said, "I didn't know you could sing like that." There were lots of things he didn't know about me.
Anyway, now I croon to him in the car, "My Funny Valentine," and we melt into each other just a little.