Ok. I've said lots of positive things, right?
Well, now I have to tell you why the fairies made me cry. Everyone's practicing for the midsummer night's extravaganza next month. I offered to sing a song in their program. "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" seemed sort of fitting -- a lot about nature, a lot about hope, bright colors and such. I can't help thinking of ruby slippers when I sing it.
On a side note: I could use some ruby slippers about now. The one down side about fairy life is the bare feet. Since they fly most places, they don't need shoes. But me? I get all worn out from flying. My wing muscles haven't recovered from The Zoom a few days ago. Considering that wing muscles are kind of a temporary add-on for my physiology, I'm leery about over using them in this condition. So, I could use a good pair of shoes. Ruby slippers would be smashing. Heck, even a pair of flip flops from the dollar store would do. Only fairy clothing shrinks or grows along with the fairy herself. There's no such thing as a fairy shoemaker, either. So, I either wobble through the air on sore wings, looking like I've sustained an injury from a passing eagle, or I have to walk on bare feet through who knows what -- bird poop or little burs -- you name it.
But that's not what made me cry.
I got up to sing my a capella version of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and among karaoke fans, I'm about two notches shy of heading for American Idol. So, I put my whole soul into this song. Lots of facial expressions, and emotion in the long notes. I even stayed in the air the whole time because that's how I hear they do things in a fairy concert. At the end, there was no twinkling for me (that's what fairies do instead of clapping.) There was outright giggling. The giggling turned to gales of laughter. I flew out of the practice meadow before it turned into ROTFL. I just curled up in the knot hole and cried. I cried a whole thimbleful of water -- and for a girl who is currently about as big as a salt shaker, that's saying something.
Thumbelina found me halfway through my cry. She said, "They've just never heard someone warble like that."
It didn't help.
I cried so much, the inside of the knot hole got humid, and my laptop started to seize up with the moisture.
On the way home from practice one of Thumbelina's nasty friends called out in my direction. "I love the way you swing it, baby." Then she busted up laughing again. All five of her twittering friends hushed her, but they all giggled until they were out of sight.
I had just about dried up. That started me again -- which is how I cried the second half of my thimbleful of tears.
Thumbelina suggested we move out of this grove for the rest of my vacation. I shouldn't have offered to sing. I won't be here for midsummer night anyway. Now, Thumbelina has to miss all the the practices with her pals.
Miserable day. I'm sleeping in a nook below a rock. It will be a miserable night, too.
--Sabrina
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