It's finally happened...

Today, one of my every day dreams came true.

Let me back up.

I love to sing. Really love it. And I like to think that I sound really pretty good most of the time. The problem, and the reason I don't run right out and audition for American Idol, is that I don't sound all that great alone (and, you wouldn't know it, but I have terrible stage fright when it comes to singing alone.) I can follow along with a great vocalist and (I like to think) keep up fairly well. I sound great in an empty house, like at Savage Street when I am alone painting and the strains of a Phantom of the Opera aria come from my lone person. The stairway is a great play for Broadway show tunes. Part of the issue is that I don't hold pitch very well and get out of tune. I think I might have potential if I had lessons...

The other part of this is that I have a really deep dream to be a singer songwriter. Except that, apart from the very ambitious but untrained voice, I can only play Kum-ba-ya on the guitar and I have no musical originality AT ALL. I think maybe I was a singer songwriter in another life or that I will be in a future one.

Enter in Brandi Carlile- this amazing, sexy, raw, lay-it-all-on-the-line singer songwriter that Mindy and Charissa introduced us to a few months ago. If you haven't heard her sing, go listen right now http://www.brandicarlile.com/. She is unforgettable. Ella likes to listen to her music too, and much to her dismay, I refuse to play any songs on repeat since I don't want to despise them like I do all of Ella's other favorite songs. This music has inspired my dream, you know the unrealistic one, of singing and so I do... in the car.

The girls and I went up to get a ton of wood pellets this morning before I dropped Ella at preschool (and I am supposed to be unloading them right now with pending showers coming and here I am writing instead) and we were jamming to Brandi on the way. I'm singing full out, you know the kind you can do when no one will judge you, half wondering if Ella is now at the age where she will judge me.

When suddenly, from the back seat comes, "Momma, you're a real singer."

My heart be still. A real singer. From a girl on the eve of her 4th birthday, but a full acknowledgement of talent nevertheless. This from a girl who loves Mozart, Jewel, Leona Lewis and the soundtrack of "Annie." She must have some point of measure.

A real singer. Thanks El. From now on you can all catch me on stage, everyday, riding down the road with my groupies, the two that are too young to know any better. I will relish it, don't you worry, because I know someday they may make fun of my singing, my hair AND my clothes in the same sentence.