Toot.

I live with a family of musicians, always entertaining me with random honks and toots and rips.

My hubby likes to play his instrument in the shower and while reclining on the couch after dinner. His melody is strictly baritone and he rarely strays from his usual tune. I have grown accustomed to his music and could single him out in a roomful of tooters. I have often wondered if it is the shape of his instrument or his many years of experience that have contributed to his musical flair.

My daughters are just learning their instruments. They are musically all over the map, a baritone drilled into the high chair, a tenor ricocheting in the shopping cart, a lone high note in the middle of story time at the library.

Once, while grocery shopping, I was serenaded by a duet by my daughters. I could only smile and nod my head to the beat. I was disappointed with the grocery store’s acoustics. The background noise of the store made it difficult to hear some of the smooth lower notes. The fellow shopper in line seemed to appreciate the subtlety of their song…a quick turn of the heel and was that a sneer?

As for me, well, my bloggy friends, I do not play an instrument. And, when the rare note does manage to escape, I always give credit to others. I am, after all, a lady.