Why I never learned to play the violin

When I was a little girl, my grandmother gave me a little, red violin for Christmas.

My grandma is a professional violinist and I am sure she was dreaming of having me follow in her footsteps.  She was probably already seeing all of us tracing back those footsteps to that moment when she handed me that awkward, very bright, fake violin that played recorded music when you rubbed the yellow bow accross the rubber wheel that doubled as the "strings."  She probably envisioned me falling in love with the romantic instrument and becoming a virtuoso. 

Too bad for her that I am me and have absolutely NO musical talent.  Or patience. 

While looking through some old family photos, I stumbled across the photographed documentation of that fateful Christmas day. 


First the picture of my mother patiently trying to teach me how to correctly hold the bow and violin.  So far the dream of me being a brilliant violinst is still a great possiblilty.

Next I try it on my own.  The dream of super stardom is fading. 

Then the dream crashes and burns when my lack of patience overpowers my violin loving potential.

Sometimes in my dreams, I can still hear that little red violin.  Saying....stick with your day job. 



Stay tuned for a coming blog post about my very conservative, very reserved parents playing a very original game that apparently they absolutely loved...with very disastorous results.  The game? 

 "Squeeze Butt."