Well hi there! This is me. I'm Nat - yet another blogger on the interwebs. I tried to resist the allure of writing for anyone (i.e. no one) to see, but I've recently discovered that I'm a very weak person so I thought I might as well cave to this blog thing, too.
"What led up to this discovery?" you ask. What else? Beer.
Saturdays are my piano days. I started taking lessons last February (despite being in my early thirties and never having played before) because I've always loved piano and wished I could play. Anyway, the way things usually go is that I have the BEST intentions during the week to practice a bit every day so that I'm prepared when Saturday rolls around. This rarely happens. In fact, I think it may have only happened once. The rest of the time, I end up cramming a week's worth of practicing into my Saturdays and then go to lessons all apologetic that I suck. My teacher has the patience of Job. Or Lot...one of those Bible people with lots of patience.
Today I woke up and faced the same scenario: practice furiously, go to piano, apologize for sucking. It never happened. Instead, I received a phone call from an out-of-town friend who happened to be in town, asking if I wanted to go to our favourite pub with a few other out-of-town-also-in-town friends. She was VERY persuasive, as the following transcript will illustrate:
Nat: Hello?
Jane: Nat! It's Jane. A bunch of us are going to for drinks at 2:00. Wanna come?
Nat: Uh...okay.
See! How could I resist when I was up against her irrefutable powers of persuasion? And besides, a Saturday is only complete when one starts drinking at 2:00 p.m.
So not only did I go to lessons without having practiced a note since last week, I was also more than half in the bag. All the little 7- and 8-year-olds gave me worried glances while we sat in the waiting room to go in to our respective lessons. "Why did that weird lady smell like a brewery, Mommy?" is the question I imagine was on their minds as they returned home today.
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