..for transitions. In the past three weeks, I have gotten a job for next year, auditioned for a musical for the first time since I was twelve, and gotten a part in a show. Now, the fact that the show includes an entire solo song only frightens me whenever I think about it. The last time I had a solo singing part was in middle school choir. It was around that time that I started mouthing the words to any song I was singing in groups. I’m not sure why I started that, but I was convinced that my singing was terrible. I think it was really that I had no idea how to modulate my volume, so I was, in my opinion, too loud. I may well have had some teacher or another tell me to keep my voice down, but I think my taking that suggestion literally was all my own thing.
When I transitioned from middle to high school, I did not select choir as the one elective we got if we were taking a foreign language. Since Spanish was my favorite class of all in middle school, and since colleges require at least two years of a foreign language, there was no way I was dropping my Spanish class. Choir had to go if I were to take any of the other electives I could not wait to try.
When the high school choir teacher called me in to see her and tried to convince me to stay in choir because I was too good to loose, I was mostly befuddled. Couldn’t my middle school choir teacher tell I had been mostly mouthing the words to the songs for almost a year? Sure, in seventh grade I had a solo, but, really, after that I hadn’t actually done much singing in a class dedicated to actually producing sound. I had no idea why my middle school teacher would have sent the high school teacher to get me.
Needless to say, most of my singing in the years since middle school has been done in safe places such as my shower, or the car on long drives, or out in the barn. The donkeys do not seem to mind when I am off key. The chickens…sometimes they run, but they run for so many reasons, I cannot be sure that my singing is the actual cause of their exits. The garden does not seem to mind a tune or two. I suppose I am grateful that I had the guts to try an audition after so much time away from the acting game.
Oddly enough, this is only the second time in my life I have gotten a part I asked for/wanted. Considering the fact that, until I got married, I had acted in at least one play a year since the age of eight, I am not actually sure how to tackle a role I want to play. I’ve taken on a plethora of parts which were not quite right, or just plain not fun. I’m grateful that I still haven’t given up.
Oh, I should mention that the garden is growing like mad. I almost murdered the lemon cucumbers when I had to move them because the cauliflower was far too vigorous. ACK. I forgot to let loose the ladybugs when I got home tonight after our first rehearsal. The stressed out lemon cucumber plants are rallying, but they are under attack. First I move them, then the aphids step in. OH, did you know that ants actually bring aphids into a garden? I had no idea. I had noticed some ants around the lettuce bed and was all, “Hello, little ants!” Then I saw a show which talked about how ants attack the good bugs and actually bring in aphids so that the ants can eat the sweet juices the aphids make as they destroy all of the goodness in a plant! Now, I’ve ordered the neem oil and the plant sprayer and am ready for the battle to begin. I tried this thing that the youtube said to use to get rid of ants in the garden, but my borax and sugar mix has not invited in any ants as yet. Who would have thought that the youtube might be wrong?
I'm just someone trying to figure out how to juggle ten acres, work, a mama with stage four cancer, and a whole lot of grumpy. This blog started out as "Grumpy Gal's Guide to Gratitude," but since all I really keep typing about is the garden, I figured I might as well own it! So, thanks for joining me as I try and figure out how the heck to kick myself in the booty and get on with life.