Pipes

I tried out for a one of those very rare alto solo parts in the choir (alto solos are rare in any choir, really). I told myself to do it because it's not one of those things I want to regret for the rest of my life. I've become a lot more bold in my "old" age, realizing that life should be lived and not feared.

I didn't get the part, but when I found out the results, I was pleased that the only pang of disappointment I felt was the selfish disappointment that I don't have a wonderful natural singing voice without having to put in any effort. I wasn't jealous of the two who did get the parts because, frankly, I would have made the same choices, were I director. My voice was inferior to both of theirs.

My kids, thinking I would feel badly, kept telling me I have a wonderful voice. I wonder if all this "everyone is equally great" crap they teach in schools makes them worried that I will think less of myself for not getting a solo. I told them that I know that I didn't have the best audition and I didn't have the pipes for it, but at least I tried. I know I have a good voice for a choir. I blend well, I have pretty good pitch, I am good at sight-reading, and I love the challenge of the music our director chooses. I love singing in that choir. When I have made it a priority to spend the time and money on getting voice lessons and improving the sound and quality of my voice, I'll try again for a solo. Until then, I still enjoy singing in the choir, at home, in the car, in the shower, and even in my head.

In other news, Husband is itchy. He had a terrific drug reaction to one of the three antibiotics he was taking, so the other day we spent hours at the Huntsman clinic making sure the rash he developed all over wasn't dangerous. His doctor gave him the Best Rash of the Day award and sent us to the dermatologist, who validated the award and told us it wasn't anything to be worried about since the blood results indicated the liver hasn't been damaged. The rash is disappearing, but the itching is driving him crazy.