Move Over Carrie Underwood - Or Not

Ever since I was little, I have secretly dreamed of singing in front of thousands of screaming fans while rocking sparkling pink cowboy boots. To say that I had a flare for the dramatic may have been somewhat of an understatement. Childhood home videos reveal that I was quite the little drama queen and rarely shied from an opportunity to capture the spotlight. Unfortunately, during a recent road-trip to visit the in-laws, my dream of one day becoming a country music superstar was shattered. Let me set the stage for you:

It was Thanksgiving eve and I had just finished a 9 mile run as a part of my training regimen for Thunder Road. After a quick shower, Dixie and myself loaded into the car for the haul to Winston to meet up with hubby and Bauer who had gone to Winston the night before. As exhausted as I was, I was looking forward to time with family & friends as well as some girl time with my favorite female pup.

Not surprisingly, rush hour coupled with Thanksgiving Eve traffic caused what should have been an hour and a half drive to take nearly 3 hours. The fatigue from my run and the monotony of traffic began to set in and I found my eyes to be quite heavy. After numerous phone calls trying to find someone to chat with in an attempt to stay awake, I resorted to my ace-in-the-hole trick to keep myself alert while driving. Windows down – radio up – belt it out! Within minutes I was transformed. Drowsiness was gone – I was Carrie Underwood. No, I was better than Carrie Underwood. I was rocking out to “Cowboy Casanova” in hot pink cowboy boots, not even Carrie dares to pull that off! Of course I received a few strange stares from other drivers as they passed, or should I say I passed them (singing tends to give me a lead foot!) but I didn’t care. Rock stars are always misunderstood…..

I was approaching my big finale – vocal cords fully warmed up, attitude on full-throttle. About a half second into the high note, I heard the most awful, shrill noise. Even above the blaring radio and my own voice, it sounded like something terrible was happening. In a split second I checked my rear view mirror and all side mirrors – terrified to see an 18-wheeler turned sideways hurtling towards my car. Immediately I glanced to the passenger seat to make sure Dixie was okay.

Imagine my surprise when I realize that the horrible noise is actually coming from Dixie. She was lying in the passenger seat, front paws covering her eyes, head tilted backwards, howling at the top of her lungs. I’m unsure if it was my faster-than-usual driving or apparently not-so-great singing that caused Dixie such panic, but she obviously not impressed with my performance. The nerve of that stupid ungrateful mutt dog! After all that I have done for her – she so flamboyantly belittles my talent??? Think of all the sacrifices I have made for her! I truly have no idea where her melodramatic tendencies come from – obviously not me. Of course.

So that was it. I have officially hung up my hopes of rocking the pink cowboy boots. If my own dog who licks her bum and is scared of the ironing board can’t stand to hear me sing, I’m not so sure I’ll ever be able to fill a stadium. Happy Thanksgiving to me…..