But I didn't care. Evidently she gets to sing and hum all day long, but if I start singing something I get the big bug eyes and the clenched teeth orders to STOP IT. I usually look at her and say no, but that doesn't stop her from informing me that I'm ruining her life. I'm pretty sure I'm responsible for global warming, too.
I will admit once we got her up there and settled I was feeling a bit lippy. As it got nearer to audition time, the singers assembled to hear how the process would work. Before the official presentation, the counselors were explaining to those of us gathered there early that they would ask for a volunteer to do an audition demonstration for the kids. Another counselor chimed in with a har-dee-har-har saying, "Well, maybe we'll get a parent volunteer. I wonder if there are any parents who would like to audition...yuk yuk yuk..." This of course set me into a muttering frenzy as I yammered, "...yeah I'll audition. I'll singing whatever you want me to sing. I'll sing you under the table and then eat you for lunch. What do you want? A little Verdi? A little Wagner? Don't you dare me. Bring it on, little man...."
...Which instantly prompted another clenched-teeth chorus of, "MOM! STOP IT!!"
So I did.
Otherwise, things went well. She got the holy bunk of Antioch, she got in and out of her auditions quickly, she saw lots and lots of friends and with a cursory hug, she practically shoved us down the path so she could be with her people. I hope she has a fabulous time.
In my sun-addled haze driving home, I drove past a couple of head-swivelling signs. The first was a billboard loudly proclaiming DaVinci Hysterectomy. I did a classic Scooby-Doo HUH?? as I drove by and then burst into hysterics. GramTuna had missed most of it, so I tried to explain it to her. Come to find out that there really is such a thing and oh, I just don't understand sometimes, because even though it wasn't much of a smile, it sure wasn't an out and out frowny face, now was it? I think not.
Anyway, the perplexity of Renaissance Surgical Techniques was soon replaced by the SAY WHAT? -ness of a local church sign. You know the ones where they have the profound witty sayings on the front that are supposed to make you go Hmmm and then make you go to church. Yeah, those. So, this particular sign said the following:
If God had a Fridge,
Would your picture be on it?
Would your picture be on it?
Holy whuh? Why does God need a Fridge? Is it hot in heaven? How hot? It's not supposed to be hot in heaven. What does he have that will spoil? Will we have to clean it out? Where does he plug it in? And what picture do you mean? Is it a milk-carton I'm missing picture? Am I supposed to draw a picture and give it to God? Do I need school picture reprints? Can I just give him one of DaVinci's? But yeah, not one of those belly frowny faced things. I wouldn't put that on my fridge either. I do not understand the moral implication of this question at all. Refrigerators are not covered in Leviticus.
After that GramTuna and I decided there was only one thing to do. We got off the highway and took the back roads home. The cornfields are so much less demanding of both body and soul.