Today, I broke 2 pop-can recycling machines (alarms and everything), found the ziplocks on the first try, and saw the spitting image of a wealthy Columbian businessman in the frozen food aisle. We’re talkin’ 50ish, wearing an authentic fedora covering curly black hair, bushy black eyebrows, a tan duster raincoat, dress pants, and brown leather shoes with a 1″ heel. He was holding a cabbage. I so wish I had my camera. Mechanical pony rides at Meijer are only a penny, which I think is absolutely fabulous.
I finally met Diane at Country Sunday yesterday. She won our little game by recognizing me before I recognized her. She told me she has a pet tortoise. We’re great friends already. This blog thing has been such a great voice for me…a creative outlet and a connection to people I both know and don’t know. More on this later (see #4 below), but thank you. All of you.
::: other highlights, perspectives, and reflections from this weekend :::
- As I was singing up front Sunday, I saw a deaf woman approach the stage with what seemed like an entire section of the church. She sat at the base of the large wooden cross waiting to take communion while the interpreter began signing questions to her. In the middle of all of it, I realized I wasn’t just witnessing someone taking communion…I was watching a woman who had literally never heard the Gospel before meet Christ for the very first time. I wanted to disappear into the floor and hug her all at the same time. I felt like I was too close for such a peronal moment. But she truly never even heard me…or Rob… or the fiddles…she only saw that cross. There’s something so very phenomenal about that.
- I have come to terms with the fact that my 29 year-old mind is in a rapidly aging body. Monday next I have 3 appointments to try to solve some big problems with my jaw (which doesn’t open) and my neck (which hates me) and my hands (which cannot open pickle jars).
- I love to sing more than anything. I love harmonies and wide sounds and the language music speaks. I am not, however, a singer on my own. I have limited style and am what I would call a singer of the standards- I can mimic anything, adding just a little twist here and there. I will never write my own music. I will never be the lead singer in a band. I will, however, begin to sort out my dream of recording a record of lullabyes. That is something I can do, have wanted to do, and will do.
- I don’t write anymore, I don’t cut and paste anymore, I don’t used mixed media anymore. This blog, my new-found love of k-nitting, and the inspiration of other people like me doing things I love do have drawn my creative instincts out of hibernation. I will by vintage fabrics. I will make toys. I will sew pictures. I will collage letters. I will start sending mail again. I will make skirts out of pillow cases. I will make many things and I will give things away. I will forage for old windows and ancient postcards. I will decorate my heart out. I will wear only patterned socks. I will sell body parts to pay for all of this, but I will do it. Whatever it takes.