chopping at Chopin on sticky keys

"Perhaps you should stop with the social media and start practicing that piano."

The last thing I need is to have my ass chapped by an old high school friend from more than 30 years ago - especially when he is right.

Our first stop is perhaps the most important: my love's family in Nashville.  Some are a bit flummoxed by our relationship, but there is a very lonely baby grand piano and many lovers of music waiting for us.

Whereas a precious few are naturally gifted, my 'talent' has required years of squirming during hours of practice - in addition to grimaces among my family who have had to endure Chopin and "The Entertainer" a million times over. To this day, my younger brother will roll his eyes and groan during the very first measure when I sit down to play from memory.

I can only hope that baby grand is in tune and there are no sticky keys. Or the dreaded dead string - especially if it is a 'C' or 'G.' And perhaps I should start doing finger push-ups, because everyone knows prancing about on an electric keyboard is totally different than banging hammers on strings.

"Maybe music will change her tune," my old friend puns.

One can only hope...