Well, last Sunday, Jared declared he was going to ward choir practice. I thought it might be fun, since I haven't been in choir since junior year in high school, and I regressed the entire year from my memory. We sang a pretty arrangement, but it had all sorts of key changes and random flats/sharps. Ugh. Not my cup of tea. And I soon realized why I didn't like choir. They don't play the parts, they play the arrangement. I can sing alto pretty okay if I can hear the part and there isn't a particularly loud soprano next to me. Needless to say, as we walked home I declared that I was never going to choir practice again.
Throughout the week I dreaded singing in front of the congregation. I knew I was going to lip sync the really high notes, because, well, that's just what I do....shhhh, but what about the rest? Jared kept telling me that I didn't have to go up if I didn't want to. But I felt obligated since there were only 2 other altos. And I went to practice. Not going to lie, I was hoping I would catch the voice losing bug. You know the one where you don't feel gross, but just can't talk? I wanted that one so bad. I also considered the fact that we have Violet as an excuse ('But, who will sit with the baby? You have to say baby to make it sound more dire). But there are plenty of ways out of that one.
Well, today, I was still undecided about going up to sing. I told myself that if we ended up sitting by no one we knew I would stay with Violet. But if there was someone to watch Violet I would go up. What do you know? Our neighbors sat by us. I prepared myself through the first talk, looking over the music, giving myself pep talks and what not, and the talk ended WAY too fast. We went up there, I hunkered down next to an older lady with music, and then we stood up to sing. I sang the first 5 words when all of a sudden I had an intense tickle in my throat. The kind where you have to hack up a lung to be able to talk again. I froze. What the heck was I going to do? Everyone could see me struggle...since I was the only one not singing in a very small choir and turning beet red. Hacking a lung was out of the question. I started to regret wanting that sickness. I did the only thing I could think to remedy the situation, I Britney-Spears-style-lip synced. The whole thing. I even added the appropriate facial expressions (like looking like I was dying to take a breath on the long note). You can bet that I will NOT be in the choir. Ever.