Egg Shells

This post has no point.

We try to do something festive each year - sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Last time, we attempted the Myerson Symphony Orchestra's rendition of The Messiah. Halfway through, my brothers ended up down the street at a bar while my dad and I tried not to laugh out loud as we watched a man sing like his nuts were tied in a knot, and the whole time, Molly gave us evil, disapproving-motherly looks.

We skipped any attempt at culture last year, but last night, the parents, Molly and I resumed keep the Christmas festivities as we headed to see the City of Plano Symphony Orchestra. We were pretty excited to go support the local orchestra and I always love nights out with the family.

As we're walking in the church, Molly comments on how large the building is and I simply stated "Welcome home to Dallas." Her response: "Yeah, where the churches in Texas are as big as the tits and hair." The whole be-quiet-in-church thing....yeah, not so much. We were all trying to mask our giggles.

Of course there was a Sing-Along portion of the performance and the Conductor invited the audience to join in and harmonize with the choir. Immediately, I felt three pair of eyes glaring at me and when I turned to greet those stares, my dad shook his head and mouthed "Do not sing!!!" Seriously? The family is absolutely embarrassed of what pitch might come out of my mouth, so I just sat there like a reject, the only one not singing.

I guess their reasons of embarrassment are validated pretty well though. Not only have I sung an entire song in church in my own made-up tune, but sometimes I don't really get the words right. I was probably 20 years old before I really understood that the verse was:

Gloria in excelsis Deo. Not Gloria in egg shells deo.

Okay, okay. Point taken.