Dear Diary – There is not enough acid in the world to unburn the memory of Hubby walking into the bathroom the other night and asking me, with a smirk on his face, why I was using his toothbrush. I looked down and sure enough, there’s my pink toothbrush on the edge of the sink. Blech!
Dear Diary – What is a pumpkin’s favourite sport?
Dear Diary – I thought there was something fundamentally wrong with me Sunday morning. I was leading worship and we were halfway through our rehearsal/sound check. So far, it had not been a stellar performace but we were committed. I was freaking out because it was the first time I was running the music track app, and I warned them that if I passed out, they were to leave me and soldier on without me! It might even be an improvement. 😉
So I pushed the button on the iPad and waited for the little voice in my ear to count me in to the intro. I bravely followed that little voice, but the keyboard sounded terrible and I was really struggling with the timing. I stopped us; we laughed it off. I pressed play again but the same thing happened. I broke into a cold sweat as my brain starting melting and my vision started to blacken around the edges. Someone to the left suggested we try playing it without the track, and as the guitarist started to strum, we all realized the tempo should be 6/8, not 4/4, and I looked at the app. Sure enough! I had done the exact thing I had had nightmares about all week. I had started playing the wrong track. Not only was it the wrong tempo and the wrong song, it was in a slightly lower key, which all accounted for just how wretched it sounded.
I was relieved that my brain wasn’t actually melting, but even more terrified that I was going to stupidly sink the whole ship with one tap of my icy cold finger!
It went well in the end. Keep in mind, I’m not a morning person. I don’t sleep well the night before I’m serving. AND I was up and out the door before the sun made an appearance. When I stepped out the door, it was chilly enough I could almost see my breath. The sky was a pretty shade of mauve and the waning moon was so bright and nearly full. As I headed north, the sky took on rosier shades of pink, and by the time I headed west again, the rosy sky contrasted with a bank of deep purple, silver-tipped clouds along the horizon.
As I reached the edge of town, a flourescent globe, the colour of mercurochome, began to rise. My ear tuned into the song on the cd. It was a song that had strengthened me through a tough month almost 2 years ago.
Your light will terrify the dark, I call upon the Name that tears apart the night.Skillet, Terrify the Dark
Within the 10 minutes drive through town, Mr. Sun had crested the houses. When I got out of the car at the church, he was bashfully trying to hide behind the last cloud. What a start to a new week!
Dear Diary – When I planted tulips Saturday afternoon, I did not expect them to become squirrel appetizers the very next day. After crafting Saturday morning with some lovely ladies, I also baked bread, which was also squirreled away by someone, because I only got 2 tiny slices.
My basil-on-steriods has been put to bed for the winter, but the oregano and thyme, which finally grew from seed months after they were planted, are loving the extra space. They’re not loving the blue jays and squirrels, who are enchanged with the “new” box on the patio. The box was moved when the roofers were here and it hasn’t been moved back. Yet.
Dear Diary – I recently went with Hubby to pick out his new glasses. As I wandered around the store looking at frames, the flirtiness of the female eye technicians was not lost on me. There were 5 employees and 3 customers looking at frames: Hubby, Tubby, and me. Hubby had one technician chatting him up at the desk. Tubby had 2 ladies making frame suggestions for him. I barely received a glance, let alone a greeting or an offer to help. I don’t want to rant on customer service but after all the decades of promising and promoting gender equality, are we really still that shallow?
That was a rhetorical question. Don’t answer me.
Dear Diary – Did you know that Emily Dickinson’s use of the common meter allows most of her poems to be sung to the tune of “Gilligan’s Island”?
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading – treading – till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through –
You’re singing it right now, aren’t you?