Your Momma's in a Cloud

and she's probably not coming down.

Lots of mommas around my age (fifty) give or take 30 years or so, are discovering at a head spinning rate the joys of being online -- a lot. They get to talk to each other and share pictures and videos and find all sorts of nifty articles about the best way to make banana bread not to mention that great write-up on how to apply for college grants.

Okay, forget those other mommas. This momma is really enjoying the ease of use of services to manipulate my mail, to manipulate my music, to manipulate my pictures, but not, unfortunately, to manipulate my husband. He DOES NOT like the internet although he loves that expensive word processor (laptop) he's got.

If I could just get him in the cloud with me, then we might be a little closer to heaven. Seriously, I would love it if he would learn to utilize some of the wonderful features available to him on the web. It would be so much easier and take less time for him to communicate via a social media site or even to e-mail more often. But hey, I do appreciate that he calls people and actually writes letters -- on paper. He will never stop doing that and part of me is glad. But some things are better left to e-mail.

He's starting to use Photobucket, so I shouldn't complain.

Let it be so!

and it was and is. "I revealed myself to those who did not ask for me;
I was found by those who did not seek me..."(Isaiah 65:1a)

I hope the Lord makes Himself plain to you. Many blessings and merry Christmas.



BTW, I can't post this video without saying that I "lifted" it from my friend Jack. So glad there are people like Jack who give lie to the notion that the Lord makes you bourgeois and boring. :D

And now for something...

a little different. Bossa Nova, the Latin version of swing. This piece was originally titled Águas de Março (uh, Portugese for Waters of March).



A while back my brother told me about seeing Jane Monheit. I had never heard of her, and he said there was one song in particular that was fantastic. I didn't realize at the time that it was a song I already loved which had been recorded by the talented but tragic Susannah McCorkle. I love both versions now but feel free to compare.



and if you're really into it, you can listen to the version by the talented but tragic Elis Regina. Wonder if this song is cursed? Hopefully, Jane is third time lucky.

Free indeed

I tend toward snarky, and I've justified its frequent use by mentally trotting out the Apostle Paul's sarcasm to the Galatians or the Corinthians or even the Lord Himself laying it on Job. But the truth is that I don't feel snarky at all when I think of what the Lord has done in my life.

I come from a long line of people who have battled mental illness to the point that several have been institutionalized and a few have committed suicide or tried to. But hey, our family has developed a pretty good sense of humor about these things. Where do you think the snark came from? At get togethers we've made jokes about our family crest being a couple of guys wearing straight jackets or wondering if Uncle Ray* was still alive 'cause no one has seen him outside his house for 15 years or being amused that Aunt Sheila*, a nurse, was doing pretty good these days 'cause she only had Munchausen and not, thank God, by proxy.

And all of this was a regular laugh riot until one day a year or so after I became a parent, my husband asked me, "Have you ever been happy?" To which I replied, "Yes," and he wasn't satisfied with that answer. "When was that? And how long do you think that lasted?" I actually had to think about it. "The day our daughter was born, and it lasted about an hour or two."

Oh, I knew I wasn't Miss Sanguine and frankly, I was proud of that. I cloaked myself in pensiveness as a way of giving great meaning to being so darn serious all the time. But serious all the time is boring -- not just to everyone around me but to me as well. It's one thing to bore others; it's another to bore yourself. So it was only natural that I developed a sense of humor with an edge as I was learning to deal with the world.

Surely, laughter is great medicine, but only to a point. Thankfully, the Lord has shown me another way, and my husband was instrumental in making me realize what I was missing. I've now had many days of happiness and more importantly am understanding the nature of joy. The Lord has shown me what it means to be joyful beyond explanation. Uh, I would explain it, but, oh never mind. :D Suffice to say that John 8:32 is dead on. I know first hand that's real. Thank you, Lord! So I just don't want to laugh out of contempt. I want to remember the grace I have and continually realize I'm overflowing with enough to go 'round. Thankfully, the Lord is in me, and He doesn't let me forget -- hence this post.

Oh, I may veer off at times and say something I think is funny but in reality is spiteful. Ultimately the Lord will keep me from that bondage. May He always keep me from being full of myself so that I don't become the thing I despise -- cute meanness. Oh, please keep me from cute meanness masquerading as cleverness. Let me remember there's no life in it beyond a few moments, and all that remains is the sour after-taste of self-righteousness.

* Heck yeah the names were changed.

XX=Abortion Supporter?

Why is it that if you're a female you are a supporter of a woman's right to have an abortion on demand? Oh, wait, you have to be educated too. Okay, I get it. Those women who do not support abortion on demand just need more education and maybe a female with an unwanted pregnancy in their family. If that would just happen, then they would understand how very necessary it is to preserve a woman's right to terminate her pregnancy. What they absolutely should know is that if this ability is taken away then countless young women will have their lives ruined by carrying a pregnancy to delivery. Got it.

But what about all of these women I've met over the years who had an abortion and now grapple with depression (sometimes debilitating depression) because they believed getting an abortion (yes, I know it's not a pleasant choice ever) would make their lives better than it would have been? Oh, they have been messed with by the religious right or are too much a part of the out dated patriarchal view to understand how good this choice was?

I might heed that point, but these women come from all sorts of backgrounds and beliefs. Some actually come from women who also had abortions themselves and don't seem to have any remorse. In other words, they have been duly educated on the benefits of abortion on demand by both word and deed. So why do they feel bad? Why is this something that just won't go away?

Oh yeah

this is what I like.



I guess when you're fifty you're supposed to like this stuff, but I've liked it since I was oh, about eight years old.

I can remember about second grade trying to pick out a Duke Ellington tune on the piano -- Satin doll. Still adore this tune. There was just something about swing that called to me and still does. Maybe because I've got that swing rhythm going on all the time. Don't know if some are born with it, but I really don't remember not having that beat permeate my body.

When I was in college, I finally got a chance to really talk about jazz and swing in particular. There were actually other kids who didn't think I was nuts to listen to hours of Duke Ellington, and there was one guy, David, in the music department who was a few years older than the rest of us, and I really loved talking to him. He's the one who gave me a much broader perspective of jazz and turned me onto Dave Bruebeck, Joe Pass and I don't even remember who else. He even took me to see a jazz concert that featured Oscar Peterson, Ella Fitzgerald, Ray Brown and Joe Pass. I can still hear it. What a treat. David also had great stories about his time on the road as a jazz drummer, and he could play any instrument and well. I didn't know anyone other than my dad who really could do that, so David was pretty special in my eyes.

But what I really spent time doing was playing jazz. I probably played at least four hours a day, and it was tough to get that time in when I was going to school and working and had a lousy piano at home. So I used to sneak into the practice rooms at school until a music major would kick me out. Most of the time they didn't care if I was in there doing the odd hours that no one wanted, and I didn't mind weird hours if it meant I got to play those concert grands.

And now, thirty plus years have passed, and I haven't played so much the last few, but I'm being inspired by, of all things, YouTube. Yes, I have loved listening to Mel, and Bill Evans and Thelonious Monk and on and on. But I've been inspired to play by 7notemode, davebeeboss, lot2learn and several others. They have made me think about playing in a way that I only dreamed about in my 20s. Thank you, guys!

I should be...

cleaning or baking some sort of masterpiece for Christmas (in my dreams) or listening to my child read. What am I doing? Listening for the phone. I'm such a gadget freak that I have all sorts of ringtones for family and friends, and then there's the ringtone for those I don't know (or at least don't know their numbers). I keep listening for that one to know if I do or don't have a job. So it rang a few minutes ago, and when I sprinted (uh, moved really fast :D) to pick it up, on the line was a pleasant voice saying: Congratulations, You've won either a trip to the Caribbean or... [click]

My husband, God Bless that wonderful man, will actually listen to sales people on the phone and respond politely. I guess I'm not nearly as polite. I used to be (a hundred years ago), but now I guess I've gone the way of so many who have had one too many jarring moments and all for what? Someone who pesters people for a living. Maybe I'll get back my joy of considering someone's humanity no matter how I'm presented with it. I envy Doug's ability to remain joyful in the face of even a telemarketer's call though I used to think he was naive. No, he's just really nice.

If I'm candid with myself, having time to write this blog of complaint could have been spent listening to some person on the phone who's just trying to get by -- even if sometimes they're involved in a scam for a living? I would love to be that nice again.