Thinking on these things . . .

I was perusing the Sunday paper and checking out the weekly ad from one of my favorite craft stores. I confess, I'm at the craft store more than I need to be, so much so that I almost feel a bit like Norm from the show Cheers...remember, he would walk in and everyone would shout out "Norm" because, well, there everyone knows your name. (don't tell me you're not having that music go through your mind right now) So I have just about every craft supply known to mankind ; soap and paper, and candle wax and fabric and yarn and... what can I say, I'm a great starter and yet so easily distracted! So here in my hand is the big colorful two page ad with the big 40% off coupon right there at the bottom of the first page, tempting me to think about what I could possibly get with it. I search the ad for what's on sale; there's silk flowers, stickers, paper, frames, wedding supplies etc. I read through it again just to see if I missed anything, nope, I saw them a...

Catchy title isn’t it? I am too far removed from college English to remember what an Ode is. I could look it up, but it might just confuse me. I just know it's what you write when you feel inspired by something. My thermos inspired me when I poured a HOT cup of coffee at 9:30 at night. I’d made that coffee at 7:30 that morning, and now that my day seemed nowhere near ending I was seeking out caffeine to keep me going late into the night. For a girl who can barely function coherently after 10 pm, I would need all the help I could get! But back to the thermos… my coffee was still so hot that evening that even adding cream didn’t cool it off enough to have to put it in the microwave. I was so impressed! (Yes, I am easily amused). Of course, the whole pot had started off hot and fresh, but then – well, the day happened, and the coffee that was left in the coffee maker was stale and cold. But a thermos is a marvelous thing, and so is a friend. There are times when passionate idealism or...

I was at a Thursday night rehearsal for some music we’d be doing in church in a couple weeks. This particular piece was beyond my usual frame of reference, a recitative from the Elijah. Now, I’ve been singing my whole life it seems. I remember it driving my parents nuts from the backseat on long car trips. But this genre was going to be a stretch for me, both musically and vocally. So I practiced. I got the CD and sang along with it for a week. I even loaded it on “repeat” in my MP3 player and worked around the house with the music next to me as I folded laundry. I listened and sang with it so often that one day as I was doing the dishes I found I had most of it memorized, so I felt ready. But … when the rehearsal began, and I was to sing all by myself with an organ instead of the recorded orchestra, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t find the entrances or the pitches or the rhythm. And worst of all, it seemed the more I tried to focus and count, the more lost I became; so, not only was I em...