For Christmas, my true love gave me singing lessons. I am a sing-in-the-shower, sing-while-cooking, sing-along-to-the-car-radio kind of singer, which is to say not much of a singer at all. But warbling a tune brings me pure joy, pure in part because I sing without the burden of expectations. My career, luckily, doesn’t depend on my doing it well, or at all. My dogs don’t care if I can’t hit the high notes when we’re out on a walk. The human members of my family, all of whom have lovely singing voices, tolerate mine.
Singing into the mask
Singing into the mask
Singing into the mask
For Christmas, my true love gave me singing lessons. I am a sing-in-the-shower, sing-while-cooking, sing-along-to-the-car-radio kind of singer, which is to say not much of a singer at all. But warbling a tune brings me pure joy, pure in part because I sing without the burden of expectations. My career, luckily, doesn’t depend on my doing it well, or at all. My dogs don’t care if I can’t hit the high notes when we’re out on a walk. The human members of my family, all of whom have lovely singing voices, tolerate mine.