LOL…no, not those facts! But now that I have your attention…
I recently finished the fourth book in my Bell River Ranch series, and the heroine, who is a gifted massage therapist, got me thinking about talent.
Everyone has a talent, thank goodness. But we all also have weak spots…things we’d love to be good at, but just aren’t.
For instance, I can’t sing.
My sweet mother-in-law, a great believer in positive thinking, warned me never to say anything negative like that about myself. But I’m a great believer in facing the truth, and the truth is…wow. I really can’t sing.
This doesn’t make me feel like a failure. It doesn’t even keep me from singing with mad abandon—whenever I’m alone. Not being able to carry a tune is simply the luck of the draw. It’s not even as annoying as some of my other DNA glitches, like fine, straight hair and 20/400 vision.
Besides, I’ve been aware of the singing problem since I was four, because that’s when I met my best friend, Celie. Celie has a beautiful voice. Right away I realized we weren’t hitting the same notes when we sang along to our favorite songs. Hers were the actual melody. Mine were sort of… free-form, impressionistic noise.
Kudos to her for never pointing that out or making me feel crummy about it.
In fact, the first time she ever mentioned the situation was quite by accident, when we were both grown and married with kids. Miraculously, both my children inherited their father’s lovely, accurate voice. One day, when Girlchild was about six, Celie heard her singing a silly Irish song called “Harrigan,” one of our childhood favorites.
“Awww, who taught you that song?” Celie asked fondly.
Girlchild smiled. “My mom.”
“Oh, yeah?” Celie looked perplexed. “But…who taught you the tune?”
And just in case I needed a refresher course in Reality, I got one the other night, right before Halloween. We had an awesome spider ready to hang by the front door. It was sound activated to descend ominously whenever a squealing trick-or-treater arrived. Unfortunately, only a particular high-pitched, horrible shriek could set it off. His Highness and I had thoroughly and hilariously tested that.
For the time being, though, Big Spider lay quietly on the kitchen island every day, watching us while we made sandwiches and took our vitamins. But then…one night, when I came in from my walk with my earbuds still in, still singing merrily along with Fun about how young we are tonight, guess what?
Yep. Big Spider went instantly into action, his fishing line extending with a panicked mechanical creak. He crawled halfway across the island before he ran out of line—and he probably thought that wasn’t nearly far enough!
So, there you go. Case closed. But hey, even if a career in opera is out for me, maybe I can help you get rid of your household pests.
How about you? Is there some talent you wish you had…but simply don’t? Does it bother you?
My author copies of my December Superromance, THE RANCH SHE LEFT BEHIND, have arrived, and I’ll send a free book to one random poster today!