The Pizza Slicer

This is how First Rate Single Life works these days.

I learn Lady Gaga choreography because there is no one to get annoyed at the tiny house bobbing around.

I listen to ridiculous music in the car because no one has to hear me screech those high notes.

I learn how to cook because no one has to taste how bad it is, but then one day I will be making a pizza. And I realize that I don't know how to take it out of the oven.  No big deal, I just ask Facebook.  And in that conversation someone mentions cutting it.  Oh God, how do I cut it? I don't have a pizza cutter.

So, I dive into the drawer to find a large knife only to discover that I have a pizza cutter!  I'm so genuinely excited, I post a pic that is just filled with real joy.

I cut my pizza, sit down and enjoy it.

While reviewing the Facebook post I think, "Seriously though, how did I get a pizza cutter?"  And then it hits me.  He put it there.  He bought it. He was ready for things, I'm not.  He made life easier. Now life's just a little harder and I don't even know how to get a freakin pizza out of an oven.

Then I cry.

And I'll probably cry a couple more times.  Then I will sleep and wake up in the morning, dance a little bit and cook a little bit and heal a little bit.  And everyday will be a little easier.

 

Zoom Terror

You may not know that I used to be a singer. I toured the country with a Christian singing group. I used to have a pretty good range. I used to be a good size fish in a tiny little pond, but that was too many years ago to admit. Just like every muscle in your body if you don't use it, you lose it. So recently, I have become a very successful drivers seat singer.

However, in this pandemic I have decided to find ways to grow. Yesterday there was a zoom class offered to work on vocal technique. I turned off my mic. I turned off the camera and away we go. (You guys, zoom classes are so amazing right now because you can be AWFUL and no one will ever know.)

 As the class began, we started doing techniques and the teacher had everyone muted, but was giving correction on what she saw. "Relax your shoulders. Lower your jaw." I thought, "Well, i can do that." So, I turned my camera on. I got a correction and I was so happy to be improving.

 Then, terror.

 She says "Liz Hetzel, let's hear you." You guys. Why she picked me out of all those people, why I had to sing, what made me stand out, I have no idea. But I decided this is my chance to have an amazing vocal teacher teach me. So I went for it. I turned on my mic and after every time I sang, she gave a little lecture to everyone on something I was doing wrong.

We moved up the scale and it got higher and higher. Finally, we were at the point where I knew my voice was going to crack, so when she moved up to the next note I said, "Oh, still me?" and she said "Yah go for it." (Hint not taken.) My voice cracked. My shoulder got tense. My neck was a mess. I was so embarrassed, but I got done and she used my failure to encourage everyone to relax and gave them great advice from my ridiculousness.

She moved up another note. She could see the panic on my face and she says to me "Let's bring it on home." I do the last little bit and I just gave up and sounded horrible. I decided to just get through this because it would be over soon.

 Sure enough, just after that, the class was concluded. I was so relieved the embarrassment was over. The woman hosting the event comes back on and thanks us all for being there. Then the instructor says to the host, "Feel free to post this on YouTube so everyone one can rewatch it."

Oh. No.

Well, now my awful singing will be on YouTube for all the world to see. All my litle mistakes and flaws out there in the cyber universe.

But you know what? I'm not dead. If anything I'm stronger. Maybe seeing someone who doesn't have the best voice sing with courage will inspire someone else who has a better voice. Maybe the corrections she gave after I sang was exactly what someone needed to make that little improvement. Maybe it's all not as bad as I feel like it is.

If there is something you love (maybe you aren't good at it) and have never taken a class, go find it online or on zoom right now. Take advantage of this pandemic and all the free classes. Now's your time! (Maybe just leave your camera and mic off. Hahaha.)

That Stupid Cavalcade

A Disneyland cavalcade changed my life.  (Click here to watch it.)

In 2005, after years of successfully dancing at Disneyland, I was unexpectedly not cast in any of the upcoming parades.  So I begged for a job.  Any job.  Disney came back and said that they could use me as a lead for a small cavalcade.   A lead is a person who walks along the parade.  They make sure the music runs correctly, the guests stay out of the street and ensures the performers are safe.  I wasn't going to be picky, I was just so thankful for any job. 

It was torture.

As I took my small steps down Main Street USA, pacing the parade, I would look up and watch the girls twirling in their skirts, jumping into the arms of their dance partners, and doing what they loved.  My ugly khakis and blue polo shirt made me look plump. The large bulky headset I wore had an antenna on both sides of my head making me look like some kind of bizarre insect. The headset was connected to a controller that hung on my belt making my pants sag a bit adding to the awkward.

But everyday I showed up and walked down that route, watching my dreams from the sidelines.

One day, the choreographer was doing a rehearsal backstage.  I was in charge of the DVD player. As the dancers rehearsed, they were struggling because a person was missing. The choreographer looked over and said, "Liz, jump in."  I looked at him and said "Oh, I'm not in this parade."  He looked back at me and said, "Don't make me call you Karen."  (My first name is Karen and like a loving family, it's not good when they use your whole name.)

He knew the dancer I was.  He knew that I could learn anything from watching.  He knew I had watched the routine a million times from the sidelines.  So, I took my headphones from my head and put them around my neck and jumped in.  As I danced along,  the headset controller on my belt kept knocking around.  So, mid dance, I ripped off the headset and controller, and launched them to the side.  I was so light, so free.  I danced with my whole soul.  This is what I was made for.

I image that you are thinking that I was then cast in that cavalcade.  I wasn't.

I just walked next to that cavalcade for months, trying to get into the parades that were in the rehearsal process, but I got no where.

That rehearsal taught me that I would never be satisfied walking alongside my dreams, so one day I auditioned for a role I had always dreamt of doing.  At the beginning of the audition they announced that women who are currently cast in the upcoming parade would not be allowed to audition.  A large pack of disappointed women streamed out of the room. (I couldn't believe how thankful I was for that stupid cavalcade.)  I auditioned for the role of a lifetime.  I got it.  I'm still doing it today.*

There are times in your life when you just have to sit on the sidelines and put in the work.  It's not always perfect.  You aren't always doing what you're made for, but there is something coming.  If you keep trying, if you keeping being willing to be rejected, if you keep putting in the work, you will end up in the perfect place.

*Cue me crying every time I read that because I can't believe how lucky I am.