Every day, more and more

Every day, more and more, I realize how much like my mother I am. Even my husband has commented on it. Something I said sounded so much like my mom he almost panicked. They are still warming up to each other.

Last night, I went to a reading by Margaret Atwood - and some performers - of her new book The Year of the Flood. I haven't read the book yet, so I was a little lost. Apparently, there are some poetry-ish parts in the book that are supposed to be songs - hymns, really - that are used to teach the children of the God's Gardeners "cult". These bits of poetry had been set to music and were sung between the dramatic readings.

At one point, one of the singers also had a tambourine and banged it against his leg in time while singing the hymn. The others were tapping their feet, or tapping their hands against their legs, or snapping their fingers. One was even singing, tapping his foot and playing a guitar!

And then it occurred to me: I can do one or the other, but not both. I can't sing and clap at the same time. I can't clap and sing at the same time. To be honest, I can barely sing, so I should probably restrict myself to clapping. But that's it. One or the other. And goodness help me if I try to tap a foot or even dance! I'm quite a disaster!

And then I remembered from somewhere in the depths of my current history, that I saw my mom once try to clap and sing. She couldn't do it. In fact, she couldn't even clap in time with the beat. We ended up holding her hands.

For now, at least, I have that. I can still clap in time.