What was that noise?

My Mom bought me a violin for Christmas... how many years ago, Mom? Five? About five years ago. 

I took it out of it's case once, and it looked at me with it's perfect delicateness and scared me half to death. So I put it back in said case and there it sat on top of my bookshelf for about five years doing nothing to benefit mankind but collect the dust that would have otherwise settled somewhere else.

Not any more.

I'm taking violin lessons. 

I'm not an old dog, but I'm a Mom. Very comparable as far as brain cells go. Teaching me a new trick is proving difficult, but my adorable-to-the-max 13 year old teacher just happens to have patience to match her adorableness. 

The first few lessons went great - nothing dangerous besides a spasmodic pinky finger which eventually remedied itself. I was feeling pretty good! Quite impressed with myself, honestly. 

Then last week she wanted me to play new notes. 

I knew which string was which, but playing new notes was a whole different ballgame. You yell out any 'ol note and I will whip it out on the piano in no time. But the violin? You want me to play what note? Are you sure that note exists on my violin?

I could relate with this plane. 

It probably started out it's ride quite nicely too. 

I promised to practice. And practice I have. And I'm shocked that my house doesn't resemble these by now:

But still I am undaunted. Okay just kidding, I'm seriously daunted. But not completely without hope. I shall carry on. Someday lovely music will burst forth when my bow touches the strings.

 Until then, pray for me. And my marriage.