Wish I were a songbird

I always wished I were someone who could sing. I mean really, really sing, not the off-tune nasal stuff that comes out of my mouth. No, I mean the rich, beautiful, blush-inducing, gorgeous sounds that some people can produce. I know, it's weird, but I blush when I hear incredible singing or music—does anyone else do this?

Anyhow, being a bad singer doesn't stop me from warbling all over the house, in the car, in the shower, under my breath, and even with the iPod while running on the treadmill. I sometimes even sing to my dogs and cats, making up silly songs to get their tails wagging. And I will definitely be one of those mamas who sings to their babies and children, too. Whether they shriek in terror when they hear me is another matter entirely.

I really enjoy it, feel so happy when I do, and as long as no one's in earshot and writhing in pain, why not? I noticed that when I sing, I must be in really good spirits (which is unusual for me sometimes). So I go with the flow, belting out song after song, an imaginary melodic songbird that's a chirping birdie in disguise.