I had a meeting with the Green-Eyed Monster again last night.
Did anyone else watch last night's CMA's Girls' Night Out: Salute to Women of Country? We're not really big country music fans, but the performers were so outstanding, we just couldn't change the channel.
You would think that I would appreciate the beauty of their craft. I actually do, but appreciation or awe weren't the overwhelming feelings I had. You know me better than that.
It was jealousy; I could actually feel it coursing through my veins!
At one point, I said to Danny, "Wouldn't it be nice to have a talent?" He agreed. We are the most talentless couple on earth. If you can name it, we can't do it. Drawing? No. Playing the guitar, piano, flute, organ, or even spoons? Not this couple. Paint-by-numbers? Dream on!
I would take any talent, but I really want to sing. I love to sing, but I'm tone-deaf (I think; I don't really know what that means exactly).
And I'm traumatized by it going back to my childhood. I was forced to take chorus in 5th and 6th grade, and I was FORCED to audition privately with the teacher for seventh-grade chorus. I'll never forget Mrs. Price's saying to me, "Missy, do you really think that's how 'Row, Row, Row Your Boat' sounds?" Biii-oootch, of course I did: I was AUDITIONING for Heaven's sake!
And my father played his part in the trauma too. I love to sing, despite my lack of talent, and I especially love to sing in the car. My father listened to me as long as he could. Then I noticed that he started getting agitated about little things, and he began shifting around in the driver's seat. Finally, he said with frustration in his voice, "Honey, please stop singing. You couldn't carry a tune in a dump truck."
Was he kidding me?!! He's my father! He's supposed to think everything that came out of my mouth was on the wings of angels. In retrospect, thirty years later, I feel sorry for the poor guy having to listen to me. At least my rough and gruff father tried to soften the insult by calling me, "Honey".
But none of this stops me today from REALLY belting it out in the car. My current favorite song is "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot", and I really get into that one. Every time I sing the word "low" I move my body down in the seat.
(Someone shoot me. This is getting really embarrassing!)
And I scream out the song, with the windows of the car down, complete with hand gestures and body movements, every time I play the song--OVER AND OVER AGAIN.
(OMGoodness, this is SO embarrassing. I have to stop!)
All I ask is that when you see me in the car, or hear me from the car, don't look over. Just keep on driving, and try not to flip me the bird.
Linda Medrano, I just want to let you know that I'm having trouble commenting on your blog, but I'm still reading, and I'm so very sorry for your loss.