This May Have Come Up a Time or Two Before

I love to sing. Really? Yeah, really! You may have heard it a time or twelve before; I love it.

A few weeks ago, six sisters sang in Sacrament meeting. I loved hearing them, loved the feeling that they brought to the meeting. It was sweet and lovely. I'd been watching them practice for weeks. They wanted to make sure that the notes were right, the harmony was right, the words were right and that the spirit was right. Also, they wanted to make sure that they didn't make any major mistakes or look foolish in front of friends and family. Trust me, I know. I've been there and done that!

As you know, I've been around for decades. The first time I ever remember going into a church, was when I was nine; a friend invited me to go to church with her. Who knew Presbyterians did missionary work? My folks weren't thrilled with the idea, but couldn't think of a good reason to refuse, so I went. I don't remember anything about the church service, but my friend sang in the children's choir and asked if I'd like to sing, too. Again, see my parents response two sentences ago.

And then , one Sunday, the children's choir sang. I thought my parents would love to come, but they did not want to come hear me sing for the first time in public. Not because they didn't love me - they did! They just did not want to go to church! They did come to hear me, but reminded me before and after that they would not be coming whenever I sang. Just so I'd know!


And that's the way it's been; I've been singing in choirs, school and church, ever since. Holy cow, that's more than 50 years! And for many of those years, I also sang with a group of five other sisters in the church. We'd sing at Christmas, in regular Sacrament meetings and at funerals. If a special musical number was needed, we did it. We were the go to gals. The sisters who sang a few weeks ago reminded me so much of that earlier crew.

So Jane, Mabel, Rosemarie, Laurie and Mary - sure miss you!

Up the Down Elevator

Really? Two months since I last blogged? Blogged, is that even a word? How long can I keep asking questions? An interesting experience on the elevator the other day. The building I work in has the most modern tech-y elevator in town. There is no Up or Down button to operate the thing. You approach the elevator and push the floor number that you want to reach. This might be a little tricky if the building had 140 floors, but it only has 11, counting the lower level and the lower lower level. So you push the button to make the elevator take you to your floor. The panel tells you which elevator is going to take you there, A, B, C or D. The door opens, you get on and you don't push anything else. The elevator is going to your floor. Of course, if you got on the wrong one, just following the crowd, it is going to take you to the floor it planned all along. There is nothing you can do to change it. So, when you are starting out the day, riding with people you don't know, you have a choice. Complete silence, or meaningless chit chat. I usually go for the latter. You know, the weather, enthusiasm for the new week, the yearning for the weekend. Strictly bland stuff. And then there is the bon mot to those you leave behind as you step off the elevator. I try to rotate the following: have a nice day, have a great day, have fun. But the other day, I wanted something different. Optional phrases were whipping through my mind and we were approaching my floor. What to say, what to say? And then it came to me! "Once more unto the breach!" I was so proud, I knew that it was worthy of the literary brilliance award. I mean, who quotes Shakespeare at 8:00 in the morning? But, no award. I may have literary brilliance, but the woman who followed me onto the floor had me beat. She said with a huge smile, "It's show time!" Drat! For that moment, it was more brilliant! My intellectual snobbery was crushed again! Next time, I'm going to say, "Have fun storming the castle."

Something Else I Want

It's silly, but sometimes I want what I want, even though I don't need it, don't have to have it and already have one that's almost as good.

For some reason, appliances fall into this category. I bought a hugely expensive, excellent vaccuum cleaner that can suck the dust mites out of your innersping mattress and make your furnace filters as good as new (maybe). It was in my house, in the possession of a door to door salesperson and I had to have it. She demonstrated, it was wonderful, I didn't have a vaccuum and didn't pay attention to the fact that it weighed a ton and didn't have power steering. So I bought it, persuaded Ronald darling that we really really needed it and now he's the one who uses it. Sigh. I didn't really need it.

When I got married, a few decades ago, I wanted a mixer - not a hand mixer, but a stand mixer. I got a Sunbeam Mixmaster, just like my mama's and it was great. Except I kept letting the spatula slip into the beaters and bending them a bit. But they straightened out, pretty much and it was great. It had clear glass bowls, so you could see if you were done mixing. But eventually the bowls broke and the beaters bent beyond repair and I went back to the hand mixer. Eventually, I got a KitchenAid and thought I'd died and gone to heaven. The bowl is stainless so it won't break... although I can't see through it to make sure that I'm done mixing. Like my vaccuum, I'm sure it will last until I die or sometime thereafter. It is strong, it is invincible, it is (ideal for a) woman.

But I want a new one. A new KitchenAid. Actually, I want this KitchenAid.


















The Pioneer Woman gave two away this week and will give two away next week. She only had 66,222 entries last week, surely all of them will have given up, and I'll be the only entry, right?
Right.
But if I win, what will I do with the one I have now? I suppose I could give it to Ronald darling, he does most of the baking anyway. But somehow, his and hers KitchenAids seems just a little over the top. His and hers Jags make complete sense, but mixers? Nyuh-uh.
So here is my solemn promise. If I win one of these mixers, I will take my fully functional mixer to the next Nickel Auction that my friends have and sell it there.

Have I Told You Lately...

That Ronald darling is a prince among men? No? Really? Huh. Go figure.

Okay, perhaps that is a bit over the top; but he is really great.* We have been having a very cold winter, you may have noticed. It is exactly the kind of winter I expected we'd be having back when I was in grade school. The teachers were very clear; we should expect cold winters as adults. The reason, of course, was the advancing glaciers, the ice age that was coming. So, we've had a cold and precipitous winter. Our car sits on a concrete slab next to our home, not garaged and not even car-ported. The snow and sleet and ice all hit it, while it just sits there shivering and cowering. And every morning, Ronald darling goes out and warms up the car before I leave for work. See, I told you he was a nice guy!*

This morning, it was worse... about 8 steady hours of sleet and freezing rain landed on our car during the night. I woke up during the night, about 12:30 or 1:00 and it sounded like a summer rain storm. We have a metal roof, so the sound reverberates in the house. It was pouring down freezing rain and/or sleet, just like a summer gully washer.

This morning, the car was encapsulated. Ronald darling asked when I planned on leaving. Forty five minutes prior to that time, he went out to salt the walks, scrape the car windows, and warm up the engine and interior. When he had every thing cleared off, he got in the car and drove it out to the highway to make sure that the streets in the complex and the roads to the highway were passable. And it took him all of that time, three quarters of an hour to make it possible for me to leave safely. Scraping and shovelling and all. See?*

And then I got the lecture. "Be careful, watch out, check your brakes, don't follow to close, watch out for the other guy, don't go too fast, keep an assured clear distance. And be careful!"**





*Don't tell him I said so!
**But, he's still terrific!*

Key Boarding

I took piano lessons when I was a kid; I almost remember my teacher's name. She was a very nice woman and very patient. She had to be, trust me! I had a couple of recitals and used to play while my sister sang in family talent shows. I liked it, but the piano did not go with us to Morocco when I was 10. I continued to play when possible, and when we got stateside again, we had another piano, but few lessons after that. So, I am not great on the piano or the organ. Utilitarian at best. I can play most of our hymns if they don't have too many moving parts, sharps or flats.
We were in a branch a few years ago and for much of the time I was the only person who could play any keyboard for any purpose. We had a piano in the primary room and a sort of organ in the chapel. The organ had two manuals, but no foot petals. There was an instruction booklet that came with it. Helped me set the tones and had fingering suggestions. Since I was also choosing the hymns each week, I managed not to embarrass myself too much.
I loved playing the sort of organ and really got fairly good on technique. Fortunately there were no foot petals.
I would do anything to play better.... except practice. sigh

But here is someone who has spent a little bit of time practising. He is absolutely amazing!

I know, it's a Christmas song, but I'll make it the last one for this season.

Somewhat Less Than Favorite Christmas Music

Yeah, yeah, yeah.... she loves music. Big deal!
Christmas music is wonderful, I love it all except the really cheesy Alvin and the Chipmunks stuff. But there is one Christmas hymn that I have said for years that I just plain do not like. Maybe it's because it isn't really about Christmas. No Christ child, no Santa, not even a snowflake. No sleighbells ring ring ring-a-ling, jing jing jing-a-ling too.
The first three verses are sad, it's depressing, it just gives me the blues - and a Christmas hymn should not do that. It ends well, all the bells are appealing. Pealing, all the bells are pealing. There is a story to the lyrics, they were written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow during the Civil War. Or the War Between the States, however your history book references read.

Maybe what I have never liked about it was the lack of bells. At Christmas time, there should be bells. And heavenly hosts. And shepherds. And wise men. Especially bells. In this video, the narrator tells the story of how the lyric came to be. I love the story and the choir sings some of the verses. And there are enough bells. There are two bell ringers (bellists?) whose place I would like to have. They are both men, can you guess the posts I would like to have?

Every Time A Bell Rings...

It used to was that "It's A Wonderful Life" was shown a million times every Christmas season. You could flip from one local station to another and see it. It was a classic, Christmas wouldn't be the same without it, constant reminder that 'no man is poor if he has friends'. Then the right to show the film went to NBC; they only show it twice a year. It's on right now, because it's Christmas Eve.

I recently read a review of it that talked about how sad the movie was. Poor George, settled for his high school girlfriend and never got to Paris. Stuck in his small home town for his whole life, never achieving any of his dreams. Sad, sad, sad.

Most of us recognize the vision of the film, that George's life meant something because of the unselfish choices that he made. I wonder sometimes if my life has made that much of a difference in anyone's life. I suppose we all do. With the Lord's help, I know that we can make a difference, if not in a whole town, at least in the lives of a few people.

And every time a bell rings...

Off-Roading

What a beautiful day to go off-roading! Crisp (freezing) cold, light snow, and a little black ice. What a treat! Driving home from church, still filled with the warm spiritual glow following great meetings and sweet testimonies. A perfect, peaceful Sabbath.
Did I mention black ice? Yeah. Driving home, a curved exit from one highway to the next and that little bit of ice on the road. Suddenly, the car is fish-tailing, Ronald darling stoically wrestling the car, trying to regain control. Then the car said, forget it, I'm outta here! and it spun right off the road and into a ditch. We came to rest with the hood of the car aiming up at the road and the back of the car resting against a chain link fence.
Alive and unhurt, what more could you ask? Next steps, get out of the car, survey the damage and call a tow truck to haul us back up to the road. Yeah. In my dreams. Ronald darling was at the wheel. He gunned the engine, back and forth until we were facing in the direction we wanted to go, but still.... down in the ditch. He began driving forward, angling toward the road, putting us at about a 45 degree angle. I casually mentioned that if the car rolled over, which I thought was a distinct possibility, I would be upset. He recognized the possibility and backed up, back into the ditch. Was he done? You don't know him vewy well, do you? LOL
He started backing up, revving the engine, trying to back up onto the road we'd left. He would get close, but not make it, and then a car would come driving around the curve. We did that about four times, until he was back up on the berm, and could drive onto the road again. We drove on home from there, about three miles. There was grass and mud and ice on the windshield and on the sides of the car.
All the rest of the way home, no problems. After we got here, THEN he checked for damage to the car. His years of excellent driving skills, a little luck and some of the Lord's tender mercies got us through another adventure. And maybe those back to back Please, please, Thank you, thank you prayers helped.
Ronald darling is a stubborn man, he's tenacious and he doesn't quit. I love that about him!

Hugged By A Stranger

Have I ever mentioned that I love to eat? In addition to singing, it is one of my favorite things. And we love feeding the missionaries; we've done it for decades. When our children were growing up, we had the missionaries over every Monday, it was great!
When the nest was empty, we started taking them out - usually to an all you care to eat buffet. Recently we've been taking them to breakfast instead. Just imagine - all the bacon you can eat! Love it!!
That's where we were this morning when I saw a young sailor at the breakfast bar. Goodness knows, I love a man in uniform! I decided to buy his breakfast, but he'd already paid. What to do, what to do? I went to one of the servers, gave her the money for his meal and asked her to give it to him. Just tell him "Thank you" and pay for his meal. Well, she wanted me to watch while she gave it to him, to make sure she didn't pocket the money. A wise move on her part, I guess, so I stood back and made sure that she went to him and tapped him on the shoulder.
I didn't want to make a big deal of it and preferred to be anonymous, so I walked away. But she ratted me out! She pointed me out to the sailor. He jumped up and followed me as I walked back toward the table. He stopped me and thanked me. Of course I thanked him for his service and he gave me a big hug. Bless his heart, they make sailor's really young these days.

God bless all of you who serve in our armed forces. Thank you for your sacrifice, and a special thanks to your wives, husbands and children who support and sacrifice with you.

Mormon Monday

This past weekend we had Stake Conference at church. Instead of our regular meetings we had two general meetings; one for adults on Saturday evening, the other Sunday morning. There are nine congregations in the Stake, and the building will not hold all of the atttendees. In the past we've held two Sunday sessions and assigned congregations to come to a specific session. Recently we've held only the one Sunday session and broadcast it to the other chapels via the internet. I was able to sing in the choir, which, as you know, I love! From the choir seats, you can see the back of the speaker. Interesting. But you can see the faces of the members of the congregation and that is great. I love looking out at a sea of over 1,000 people and finding my friends.

One of the speakers in the Saturday evening session talked about his experience as a father, teaching his children to recognize the Spirit. He would ask them periodically when they last felt the influence of the Spirit. By doing so, he prompted them to seek it and respond.

The easiest way for me to feel that Spirit is through music. Responding to the influence and remaining in tune is a habit I continue to develop. In the mean time, I feel the influence of the Lord through music. I can't pick one favorite, but this is fantastic. I love the music and the message and, especially the settings! Do you suppose that people who were not involved just jumped in and sang? I know I would have.