Pauline made me this otter. I asked and she created. She’s quite the artist, and I am in awe of her talent. I cannot imagine drawing or painting or sculpting or whatevering a real thing and have it look – uh, real.
I wish I could. I think it would be so wonderful to have artistic talent. I can just imagine myself, showing my incredibly detailed and accurate drawings to a group of adoring friends, all of whom swoon at the sheer beauty of them. Or maybe they wouldn’t swoon, they’d just exclaim excitedly at my obvious giftedness, and I’d just blush and look down modestly, murmuring, “Oh, it’s nothing – just a few lines I scribbled while I was watching TV…”
I’d also love to be a musician. Oh, I can read music (years of accordion lessons as a child, then piano lessons as an adult) and I can sing mostly in tune, but I’m not gifted by any stretch of the imagination. I could never just pick up an instrument and play something that sounded even okay – although in high school, I once picked up my friend Ben’s saxophone and actually got an interesting noise out of it. It must be an incredible feeling to write music, too, to invent a series of musical notes that had never before existed in that particular sequence or rhythm. And if that music was recorded and became famous!? What a rush that would be!
It would be very cool to be a dancer, too. Any kind of dancer, really, though I think classical ballet is probably my favourite. I did ballet lessons when I was in my early twenties, and discovered that my body was completely wrong for ballet. Completely. I was too short, not flexible enough, too curvy (especially my back), and worst of all, I had a fringe. Real dancers always have long straight hair that they can scrape back, whereas my bangs just hung down my forehead. I could tie the rest of it back, but not that fringe. So there went the ballet career. But it would still be so nice to be able to leap and turn and make my body do all those amazing movements that dancers can do – and do them all gracefully and with a fixed smile on my face.
I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be an incredible cook. You know, not a professional, but one of those talented people who can just sort of wander into their kitchen and wander out again an hour or so later with a beautifully prepared meal for twelve. The kind of person who just knows where to get crème fraîche (and what it actually is, as well as what can actually be done with it). The kind of person who doesn’t agonize over the prospect of feeding friends who just “dropped by” on a Sunday afternoon – she just does it, in fine style.
But really, I think it would be great to just be an otter. I’ve always had a huge soft spot for them. And think about it: what do they do all day? They swim, eat, sleep, and play. Lots of play. That’s pretty much it. Plus everybody thinks they’re sooooo cute!
I wonder if otters come in pink?