“Mom, she sounds like you.”
My daughter said to me on Saturday night, as we watched Taylor Swift in concert from the floor of a packed stadium in Santa Clara.
“What do you mean?” I asked. Because, I mean, I love to sing and all, but I own the level of badness that is my singing voice. It’s not pretty. She definitely didn’t mean that, and Taylor was on stage talking to all 50,000 of us about her life, and her songs, and being all amazing, and sparkly, and 25, and awesome. Continue reading