Feel The Music

I heard this song last Sunday, and began composing a post after publishing To Be Seen. Unfortunately, I’ve been messing with it every day this week up until the final moment of it’s scheduled publish.

I shared this song with my daughter and told her it’s up next for Feel the Music. It didn’t take her but a moment of listening it to recognize the voice singing is Pink. My favorite part of the song is how she lays down her sword to dive into the pain. I don’t do that nearly often enough, but look forward to the day my sword can retire.

My daughter is my biggest fan, and I’m hers. She is my first like on a post and knows beforehand when one is going to be published. This one was scheduled for 10:00 am, but I haven’t heard from her this morning, so I’ll wait. We always show up for one another, but the timing of our lives doesn’t always align. The timing is not as important as the doing.

If she were here she’d say, ‘Stop rewriting the post!”, but maybe that’s okay. If nothing else she sees that you can rewrite your story down to the very last minute. I do know at some point to stop typing and kick it into cyberspace.

That’s all I know so far.

Crossing the Line

I’ve been using the pour over coffee dripper for my coffee each morning for a while now. It offers flexibility in cup size, and on Monday we go big.

It will fill any size cup you choose to sit under it. You just have to measure the right amount of water for the size of the cup. This morning, I measured 16 ounces of water for the gooseneck kettle, knowing this cup could hold it, but I’ve miscalculated before and that was messy.

My favorite cup and Blue Bottle coffee dripper.

One morning I grabbed a large mug thinking it was just as big as this one and treated it the same way, with 16 ounces of water. I allow time for the dripper to drain in between pours, so after the third and final pour, I walked into the next room. A few minutes later I went back into the kitchen for my coffee, only to find it pouring over the rim of the mug onto the chopping block.

It had poured over alright!

Thank God the spill had stayed on the chopping block, but I must have crossed the 16 ounce line. It’s times like these you go with what you know and make sure your Monday cup is cleaned on Sunday night.

The coffee dripper adds mystery to my morning. I’m never quite sure what I’m going to get. It calls for the water measurement to be precise, but I’m doing good just to get the water into the measuring cup much less read the lines. It’s when I cross the line that life gets messy.

I have an email to send this morning, and it feels like I may be crossing the line. That’s not going to stop me from sending it because I don’t live my life in the safe zone. When God opens the door of opportunity, communication can be awkward at first, but we don’t really know where the lines are, if any, until we cross them.

This is me, on a Monday, crossing the line.