Until Friday night I thought I could sing. I do the occasional funeral and wedding, and sing solo regularly at church, and the nice people always come up to me and tell me how wonderful I am and I try to look humble, while secretly agreeing with them. I even get to sing the National Anthem in public once in a while, and let me tell you, THAT song is not for sissies. People even pay me to sing. And then I went to see a friend in a musical production of "Kiss Me, Kate". The production was nicely staged, and the cast was "capable" and then out came my friend in the starring role, sounding like an angel and hitting notes that were never written for humans. She was amazing. And while I truly celebrate her talent and love her to little tiny bits, I had that "slapped in the face with a flounder" feeling as I realized how much better she is at this stuff than I am.
Now back in the days of my misspent youth this revelation would have been cause for me to feel cranky for days. But I'm oddly OK with it now. Sometime in the course of the last few decades I discovered the delightful concept of "Good Enough." I don't have to be the best at anything (like housekeeping, or cooking, as everyone knows by now, or even at things I love to do). I just have to love to do them. So I'll continue to sing here and there, and act in the occasional play (and hate the publicity photographs which magically make everyone else look exactly as they do in real life but always add 30 pounds to my image) and I'll enjoy the process. This growing up stuff is taking longer than I thought it would, but it's oddly comforting. Who knows what I'll learn next?