300 Lutherans walk into a bar...

Several things have happened this week that really filled my tank, as it were. I sang a funeral this week and for some reason hearing testimonies from the son and the granddaughter about being loved and raised by this remarkable woman just got me to feeling all warm and fuzzy. And dang near impaired my usual emotional remove in such situations, singing-wise.

A friend of mine, after a few unsuccesful attempts at same is about ready to pop with a healthy baby girl. She's on Facebook (a mindless addiction I'd hate to recommend, but on the other hand, it's summer, right?), and reading about her preparations there and on her blogs has been so beautiful. She (like her husband who also blogs) is wickedly funny, and on several occasions I have hurt myself laughing at their dead-on observations. One of the most touching things they've done is made movies, more or less weekly, in which they talk to their soon to be daughter about goings on in their lives and her development. What a treasure that will be her whole life long!

And then there's those Lutherans! This week the Association of Lutheran Church Musicians is holding its national conference in Houston. At least the rain has stopped, but now it's hotter than, well, the hot place. Great for welcoming guests. Anyhoo, among the many worship experiences they planned for the conference was a presentation of Bach's Magnificat by the Bach Society of Houston. It's one of the groups I sing with, based at Christ the King Lutheran Church (known affectionately as Christ the Lutheran King Church, for reasons that are apparent when viewing the sign outside). I tried to find a picture of the sign, but alas, I could not. If you're in Houston, it's on the corner of Greenbriar and Rice. It's a stylized font, landscape orientation, two rows of text reading "Christ the King" on the left side and "Lutheran Church" on the right. Which, when read left to right like most folks do, reads:

Christ the Lutheran
King Church

All that to say, we did a Bach Vesper service for the assembled Lutherans. That would be Lutheran musicians. Choir directors, organists, ministers of music. People who sing. VERY well. There is nothing more exciting than hearing a live room resonate with the sound of people singing well together in large numbers. One forgets what hymns and responses can sound like when, well, civilians are singing. Not that there as anything wrong with that. But there is a lustiness, some extra dimension of sound that occurs when (for lack of a better word) professionals are the worship participants. When the ministers are being minstered to, there's a special feeling in the room. I've only gotten to experience this a few times, at similar conferences. And each time I am amazed, humbled and renewed.

Maybe I should go to more conferences! I suspect that might dim the experience. Not for nothing did the sages opine that familiarity breeds contempt.

In other news, the luckiest day of the century came and went almost without notice for me. I did not get married (ha! not even close!). But between the huge and near constant thunderstorms I did manage to get to the grocery store for provisions. Part of the simplification of my life has included avoiding carrying a purse whenever possible. Usually this entails pockets. In my haste to dodge rain splatters, I went out in one of my– pocketless– lounge/workout ensembles. Somehow, while attempting to keep and umbrella, keys, a shopping list and a credit card in my hands, I managed to drop the credit card. Not once, but twice.

The first time, in produce, a nice lady saw me drop the card and handed it over. To my great relief. The second time, somewhere between seafood and meat, I didn't feel it go, nor was there any savior-like shopper in my vicinity. I realized I was without a means to pay for my groceries when I was nearly at the check-out. After taking a moment to panic (and dreading the thought of having to go back to the poultry counter to return the painstakingly measured chicken), I went to the customer service desk and inquired about my lost card. One of the associates had picked it up. They had even paged my name over the PA. Never heard it. I was one very grateful customer that day, let me tell you.

And yes, we are re-evaluating our purslessness.

It has been time for my annual woman's worryfest over the, um, girls. They being what they are, questionable mammograms are more the rule than the exception. Of course, my life being what it is, I kind of skipped a couple of years. [NOTE: I COMPLETELY DO NOT RECOMMEND THIS. STOP WHAT YOU ARE DOING. IF YOU ARE A WOMAN OF APPROPRIATE AGE, CALL YOUR DOCTOR NOW AND SCHEDULE YOUR EXAM. IF YOU ARE A MAN, CALL THE WOMEN IN YOUR LIFE AND GET THEIR EXAM SCHEDULED. PRONTO. I MEAN IT. GO. NOW!] This year though, the skipped years (3) combined with the changed (i.e. smaller) landscape, meant the good doctor found some new areas to worry me about. Fast forward through the obligatory (and inconclusive) ultrasound and he sends me to a specialist.

Let me say here that this is summer. I've had a lot of traveling to do. All of these visits and tests are happening in a very extended manner, taking place between May and July instead of the oh, week in which they could have taken place, travel notwithstanding. Just a small added stressor.

She, the surgeon, is a lovely woman. Great treatment manner and trustworthy. She sends me to a hospital for a Dilon scan. If you don't take the link, it's a nuclear medicine test with scary accuracy. It is able to definitively rule out cancer, and can detect lesions as small as 1 mm. I am surprised more people don't know about this, which is why I'm telling you. I'm clean, by the way, so no worries there.

Project update: With all the traveling (Europe was grand, another post, another day), my task has been pretty much maintaining. Which I have managed to do. So we stand at 63.5 lbs released.

Gotta go see my babies. More later!

When worlds collide

Hey there! Yes, I have done a good job of maintaining radio silence. No, it has not been because of 1) a lack of things upon which to comment, 2) a lack of time in which to comment upon the aforementioned things or 3) those pesky black helicopters.

That last one was a joke. Really.

So, since the hour she be late and the diva she be tired (despite having done absolutely nothing to earn said fatigue), this will be a brief post. Mostly to tease Peter, who (unless he gave up on us completely) has been out of his mind waiting for just such a tasty morsel as this post.

Two news items slid across my consciousness a short while ago. They are essentially unrelated. Neither was unexpected. Both are extremely distressing to my being. And both are timely in their own way.

Once upon a long time ago I saw a movie with Demi Moore called The Seventh Sign. Or maybe The Seventh Seal. One is by Bergman and is Art. The other is Not. Anyway, the Creepy Harbinger Of The Apocalypse Knowingly Intoned By A Very Odd Stranger is about a thing called the Guff, where souls wait to be reborn into babies. The Guff thing is sometimes infinite, but for some reason unremembered by me, it is now finite and nearing Empty. And when it's empty, the first baby born without a soul will be the Antichrist or some minion thereof. (Sorry, it's been a while.) Something about dead birds being the tip-off and such.

Well, I haven't seen any dead birds (but I'd love to see some dead damned spiders– a tale for another day), but as for the Harbingers, they be about. Back to those news stories:

1) Famed Opera Singer Beverly Sills Dies of Cancer at 78

2) Bush Commutes Libby Prison Sentence

Both of these were the proverbial other shoe dropping. I'd read a news item that Sills was ill and checked in at Opera-L (those folks know EVERYTHING there is to know about the world of opera–and if they don't, they know where to send the hounds), discovering that she was pretty much days away. I had hoped against hope that Bush wouldn't intervene in the Libby case, but again– foregone conclusion.

This is not an original thought, but it is about the biggest possible kick to the arse of a country in the throes of a hotly contested war that is allegedly about democracy to essentially set aside the democratic process because it "isn't fair." Here's a news flash. Lying in court is wrong. If you get caught lying in court, the chances are really good that the punishment will involve incarceration. "Fair" is not part of the equation. Try that "fair" crap on people who can't afford high powered Washington lawyers and even higher placed friends. Actually, friends is kind of a strong word. It was those same highly placed friends who hung old Scoot out to dry on the whole Plame thing in the first place.

As for the sadly late Ms. Sills, her death did not make it onto the pages of CNN.com; which is more or less the news source of record for the country these days. Couldn't even find it on the entertainment page, which was prattling on about the movie Transformers and Larry the Cable Guy. This woman sang, entertained and educated this country for decades. She was Britney (pre-nutso Britney, to be sure) before Britney was Britney and was better at it than all of her wannabes put together. Has opera become so marginalized that the death of one of its brightest lights is less news than 7-Eleven changing its name to Kwik-e-mart for a movie promotion?

Maybe these are the birds.