It's all about the acoustics
Last weekend was a long weekend for those of us in the Great White North: Canada Day. If you know how old the country is, just subtract 100 years and you have my age. (No, I�m not telling, do some research people!)

The Boy doesn�t like crowds, so we didn�t go anywhere and The Dog doesn�t like fireworks, so we didn�t do anything fun at home either. Gawd, we�re a boring family unit. Sunday night however, I went out to karaoke at my local pub for the first time since April and had a blast. I�ve been shying away from singing in public since I got my head hollowed out like a pumpkin this time last year. Tonsillectomy, UPP (uvula removal � I have no swingy thing at the back of my throat) and soft palate reconstruction. If you�re sitting there thinking, �owie�, you would be correct. It was all for a good cause, but I didn�t realize some of the ramifications until much, much later.

Really important things like, say, the ability to make pig sounds at a family member developing an unhealthy attachment to the chocolate cheesecake? Gone. The shape of my old mouth provided me with the right acoustics to sing nicely. People used to like to hear me sing, so I did. I liked to hear myself sing Killing Me Softly or Chain of Fools or Un-Break My Heart on Sunday nights, full of Guinness and ego.

Sunday night, I was introduced harshly to my �new sound�: it�s higher, it�s weaker and it�s not me. I swear. Kelly, the fabulous chick who runs the Sunday night extravaganza, told me I just have to become familiar with my new vocal range, and we set upon the songbook to find suitable replacements for my old repertoire. Dayum, I can sing Aretha Franklin! I did a kick-ass version of �Respect� and had the whole place clapping and singing backup for me. (Sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me�)

The Boy is on the afternoon shift this week, so I might double click Winamp
and open my throat up to see just what she�s capable of when only the dog will hear me.

Posted at 1:59 p.m.