The dishes. So many. Our dishwasher broke a while back and we've never replaced it. Jon's parents have never had a dishwasher, we spent the first 6 or 7 years of marriage without one, I figured it wouldn't kill us to do some dishes. I'm not dead yet, but I feel the hurt. The hurt happens with three boys who eat like adults and get a new glass from the cupboard every time they want a drink of water. Come on!

The chime choir played for church last night. I am their "director." I love it. My oldest son, Sammy, is in the group because I was lacking high schoolers and had to dig into the junior highers to fill the gaps. They are the greatest. Just going to midweek service and seeing 15-20 high schoolers all sitting together during worship is just about the best thing. And then one of the high school boys turns around and starts smiling and playing with the baby sitting behind him and the world is good. You just have to keep your eyes open.

I woke up way early this morning. The house is quiet. My husband, Jon, has had a real long couple of weeks. We are ships in the night right now. I hope he sleeps later than usual. The boys are off school today and tomorrow. I hear birds chirping and a train passing through town, the hum of the refrigerator and the sun's not yet up.

Tonight I play the hometown bar, but before then I'm taking some cub scouts to the fire barn to learn about emergency medicine. I am going to play through some songs, perhaps write a new one. I'm going to tackle the dishes (again) and write out lead sheets to send to a fiddle player. I'm going to keep my eyes open and be thankful for the view from over here.

 

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