When Irish Eyes are Bloodshot

Okay, that's it. I'm emailing my Celtic fiddler friend and asking her if she knows any groups on the lookout for an Ornamental Female Vocalist.

My brother-in-law, who does open mike nights on a regular basis, got invited to perform at a St. Patrick's Day weekend festival at La Villita in San Antonio last night. Not one to let a complete lack of knowledge of Gaelic music stop him, he recruited my husband and a couple of musician friends, printed out the lyrics to a bunch of Irish standards from online, and whipped up a few arrangements. They called themselves the Irish Pirates, wore eyepatches and bandanas, drank heavily, and belted out a set that'll leave Danny Boy walking funny for a week.

Thank God the audience had a great sense of humor. When my husband first told me what the group was planning to do, I thought for sure they were going to get lynched.

So it was before this gentle and good-humored - and, possibly, not entirely sober - audience that I made my Celtic song debut. I kind of sucked. I really wanted to do a song but I didn't want to do a song but I wanted the guys to want me to do a song so I could tell them no but I wanted them to press me into it but they didn't try to talk me into it which means nobody appreciates me and I was so mad and...

I think all that red meat I ate in San Angelo turbo-charged my PMS.

So with all that fretful dilly-dallying, I ended up not rehearsing and deciding I wouldn't sing, but the next band on was late arriving and my guys were out of material, so I stepped up to the mike and tremblingly let out a few verses of this Scottish neo-traditional song.

Damn it. I can do better. I want another try! Next time I'll eat salads for a week first.