Last night I took advantage of my last weeknight sans kids for the next couple of weeks and worked on music. I practiced little guitar riffs for one of the Celtic tunes, feeling like I was 16 again, when I used to sit in my bedroom and try to get my fingers to go faster than they are able.

They still aren't very fast.

I also learned this week's Celtic tunes, then turned my attention to the 4-track, to start putting down ideas for one of the few remaining un-arranged tunes for the original band.

Wouldn't you know it, all the knobs on my mixer had been turned up to 10. Littlest had been there on the weekend, repeatedly asking me to "turn on the microphone" for her. I guess before I finally did, she had decided to try it herself. :-)

(In the end, I did hook up a mic to the computer, and she recorded several "songs" directly onto the computer's hard disk, improvising words and stories and tunes – it's really quite funny. We had a good laugh when I modified the pitch on her voice to vary between deep baritone and high chipmunk. :-)

So, I fixed the knobs, found a couple of small patch cords that actually work, hooked up my bass, adjusted the EQ and delay, and recorded a few bass lines, all at about 1 in the morning.

You know, if I could just win the lottery, I've decided I would quit my job and dedicate all my free time to music. I'd make recordings like the one I did last night (except I'd buy $60,000 worth of studio equipment to do it with, natch), take piano lessons, take singing lessons, take banjo lessons, Irish Bouzouki lessons, *guitar* lessons – you name it.

I've spent my whole life fumbling around with the real world when all I really want to do – and should have done – is music. D'oh.

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