No Tutu For Me

When I was about 4 years old I asked my parents for piano lessons and ballet lessons. Unfortunately, I was told that I'd have to make a decision -- I could have one or the other, but not both.

Of course, I picked the ballet lessons. My dreams of pirouetting around a stage in a pink tutu with those pink satin slippers would not be denied! I'd be in recitals and plays .... probably the star of the Nutcracker. I'd get to wear costumes and this would be an acceptable reason to wear make-up before 16. And tap lessons always seemed to get thrown in as a bonus, so even at the age of four I knew this was a good deal. Yes, my pint-sized brain thought like this at the age of four.

Then my mother sat me down and said to me words that I'll never forget:

"Honey, I think you should take the piano lessons. After all, when you're 40 and you invite your friends over for dinner, wouldn't you rather play the piano for them than put on a tutu and dance?"

Right between my barely developed eyeballs, she hit me with cold hard motherly logic. And it worked. I took the piano lessons.

As a result, I can't dance but I can play a helluva sonatina. My first lesson was at age 4 and the lessons continued on until I graduated from high school -- by my choice. As it turns out, my mother was right.

Well, mostly right. I would probably love to be able to don a tutu and do a few ballet twirls at my next dinner party. Not probably ... I would. But since my tutu would probably have to be a four-four, it's probably best that I stuck with piano.

My piano playing fell by the wayside long ago, which makes me quite sad. I always loved playing, and still do. This past weekend, I stayed at my boss' house in Kentucky and they have a big black baby grand in the living room. My fingers were itching until I couldn't stand it anymore. Her husband and I played for a few hours on Saturday afternoon, and it was awesome. Am definitely rusty, but I don't think it would take much to get back to form.

My new project is to see how many zillions of dollars it'll cost me to get my piano moved from my parent's house in Maryland to my house in Philly. I'm sure it would be more cost-effective to just buy or rent one that's closer, but there's no way I would want a different piano. That old one was my Christmas present when I was 4, and there's nothing like it.