K is for...

Keyboard. When I was in my teens, my mother bought me a piano and I took lessons for a number of years. Then I got married and moved away, and although I would play the piano whenever I went home, I eventually lost my skills.

Jump ahead to Fall 2000. Joe and I had celebrated our 25th anniversary, and my mother told me that as an anniversary gift, she would send me the piano. She contracted with a piano moving company and my piano travelled from Michigan to Arizona without mishap. I was very happy to get it, but I didn't remember any of my lessons any more. I didn't have time to take lessons, with all those kids still in the house, but the daughters did take lessons for a number of years.

Earlier this year I decided that I wanted to start playing again. I dug out my old music books, called in a piano tuner, and got a music teacher to come to the house once a week. And I'm happy to say that the lessons are coming along very well. Part of my reason for starting to play again is that I want to keep my brain active and busy learning new things. Learning - or relearning - an instrument is a wonderful thing. Of course, sometimes one can't practise until a kitty is removed from the keyboard.

Roxie hit me up with a meme today. It involves grabbing the nearest book, turning to page 123, finding the fifth sentence, and quoting the next three sentences. So I grabbed my current read, Elliott Arnold's "Blood Brother", an old favorite about the Apache Indians of Southeast Arizona. "He carefully extracted a long black stogie and received a light from the young lieutenant. 'You are most welcome here, Mr Bascom. You will find your duties not too onerous, I hope.' " If you want to play along just for fun, consider yourself tagged.