MOG

I haven't even LOOKED at my violin since July of 2005 (Around a fire pit in Huntington Beach with Tony Scalzo and nearly Academy Award nominated singer/song-writer Dayna Lane.) Yes, I know I should be ashamed. But unlike my brother, who would no sooner stop playing music than stop breathing, I tend to play only when I have a reason. So now I have a reason and a LOT of work to do. When the man calls and tells me to be ready to help out in the studio, I take it seriously. Last night I summoned the courage to drag the 100 year old piece of wood out of the closet and run some exercises. It's sort of like riding a bike, only after you've been in a coma for a year and all your muscles have atrophied. My violin hickey is beginning to form, the callous on my bow thumb is so far only a red and tender imprint, but the tips of the fingers on my left hand feel like they've been dipped in acid. In fact, half of my typing is punctuated with whining and wincing as the boney tips press down on the keys. But I state publicly before the 10s of people who might read this mog today, that I pledge to complete a torturous hour of practice a day for the next 3 weeks until whatever day it is my services are needed. (Except, of course, during the weekend of January's Xena Convention. I do have my priorities...Xena, Tony, god, family, country....)