I am carefully applying the second layer of yellow paint to my house, homing in on the end of this never-ending project. Manoli, my manly hero, is standing behind me, holding the paint bucket and a rag, softly singing "My Heart Will Go On" by Celine Dion. He is not painting because he doesn't want to get his clothes dirty.
I go to see Mamma Mia with my mother. I do not allow her to sing "Mamma Mia," finding it embarrassing. Two days later, I go again with my best friends. Not only do we sing along, we race home to drink pink drinks and have an ABBA dance party, loudly singing "Dancing Queen" late into the night, waking Emily's elderly neighbors.
I am standing by the piano in a preschool classroom in a church basement. It is hot and humid, and I am sticky as I listen to my latest five-year-old charge compose an original song about the Twilight. And also Dewey, who is Abbie's Sister. But mostly about the Twilight. Earlier that day, he chased one of his friends around a fountain, concerned that he was drinking from it. "But you can't dooooo that!!" he cried. "That water is not potaaableeee!" Now though, we're completely focused on the Twilight.