M Is for the Way You Look at Me. Or Not.

At breakfast yesterday morning, for reasons unknown I was channeling Nat King Cole. I serenaded my bride of 35 plus years with "L-O-V-E" though as I was to prove within an eye blink of beginning to sing, I have no idea of the lyrics except when you reach the end, you warble "Love was made for me and you."

As I recall from listening to the "hi-fi" in the living room of my parents' house as you're holding the last lyric, a  small combo swells and caps behind you at the crescendo. Budget cutbacks precluded the engagement of the small combo (and we really didn't have the space in the kitchen anyway). It was, her brave smile to the contrary, a kinda grim rendition.

I'm great at the singing solo stuff, as long as I don't have to show my work. How fortunate for me there was no one to show it to except the woman who's been looking at it for decades and yet still doesn't look away. I'm not quite the Master of My Fate or Champion of My Soul that I once saw staring back at me in the mirror every morning, but if she's noticed, she hasn't said anything to me.

As if I'd listen. Not sure I've listened to anyone for more than one day at a time since touching down here on my way to wherever it is we are all supposedly going  (I did stick the landing I was told) so let's just hope I don't fall over anyone else's songbook, especially anyone you like between now and Tuesday. Deal?
-bill kenny