Avast, me hearties...

Firstly, I am posting this picture in an effort to have my profile picture not disappear (you may have noticed that I had one for about a day...)

Secondly, one of my music students is MOVING AWAY. I often think that I am not meant to be teaching lessons because this. always. happens. grrr.

Thirdly, it is international Talk Like a Pirate Day. So go ahead, talk like a pirate ye scurvy land lubber.

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Brenda mentioned (and Bren agreed) that I should send my little "Bacon Bits" story to the Readers Digest. I have sent things to RD before, funnier things, and they didn't get published. But RD's loss is your gain, because I will share them with you now. (Both these stories are from the year that I worked at a day care)

A girl and a boy, both four years old, were playing with some plastic food in the toy kitchen. "Please pass the pasghetti," said the girl. The boy responded, "It's MA-sghetti!"

Another four year old boy was quietly singing to himself. "There was a farmer had a dog and Bingo was his name-o. B-I-M-B-O..."

Pass the Bacon Bits

On Tuesday I taught my first music lessons in over a year - one piano and one voice lesson. One of the girls from church came to our place to watch Monkey while I taught. They had a great time together and I think he will look forward to her coming every week. I had a great time too. My voice was tired by the end of the hour (note to self: less talking, more music). But the best part was that I got paid for all the lessons in September (three weeks X two students = not very much $). It felt good to hold those cheques in my hand.

erin k : "Look, Monkey, Mama brought home a tiny little bit of bacon."
music man: "Bacon bits"

Yes, bacon bits. And that's okay.

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I got an email today informing me of an upcoming event to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the choir program at my high school. This is an event that I would actually be interested in going to if it weren't for my wee Monkey and the fact that it is on Thanksgiving weekend (I'm home to eat turkey, people. Don't mess with turkey time.) Choir was my life in high school. So, though I'm not likely to participate I may go to the alumni choir concert, just for fun.


Music man graduated high school one year before me (and 300 kms away). Both of our ten year reunions have come and gone. Except, they didn't come. Neither of us heard a peep about a reunion of any sort. This is not disappointing to me because I really really wanted to go. No, this is disappointing because if there is no reunion, there is nothing to not go to. I can't show how little I care about such things if there is nothing about which to say, "No, I don't think I'll go." In truth, this is actually what I said would happen all along. I can't see anyone from my graduating class caring enough to organize a reunion. Yup. We just don't care. And that's okay by me.

The World This Week

This week I was so pleased to read all the very positive comments regarding my poem. Thank you all very much.

However, this week I was also saddened by two great losses to the World of Art.

Luciano Pavarotti 1935-2007

and

Madeleine L'Engle 1918-2007

You can see some tributes to these great artists here and here.

untitled

As usual, I am slow on the draw. I originally heard about this challenge from Joy, but it was issued by Slouching Mom. A 26 word poem with each word starting with the next letter of the alphabet (ie. acrostic). And so, I present you with my attempt. It was written with a bit of input from Music Man after a discussion about Contemporary Worship Music on the way to the lake on Sunday morning (yes, when we should've been in church...).

A burgeoning contemporary denomination expresses feelings.

God.

Hallelujah.

"I just know, Lord, my needs openly provided."

Quality?
Relevance?

Satiated throngs undervaluing veracity.
Who xeroxed your zeal?