Every Sunday they played so well. Sometimes the music touched my soul so much that I cried.
We were part of a church in Oxford, England called St Aldate’s. One Sunday, on the way home after church, I told Heather than I wanted to play the bass. I have always been able to hum the bass line in my head. I played violin in elementary and middle school. My sister is a professional musician. My dad could pick up any instrument and create music in less than an hour.
We returned to live in the States, and Heather bought me a bass, an amplifier, and a few learning videos – including one by a favorite bassist, Abraham Laboriel. I spent a little time trying to learn to play. It was not as easy as I hoped. I tucked the bass in a corner. A year later, the bass went into the basement closet. Two years later, I sold it.
Seeing the bass in the basement became a guilt trip for me. Heather bugged me to wipe the dust off and give it another try. We finally realized it was not going to happen, and I admitted defeat.
Selling that bass was a freeing experience. So maybe if you let go, you will find freedom. But maybe it’s worth fighting till you win.
Footnote: There is no period – or full stop – after the “t” in St.” That’s just how they spell it in England.
It is amazing to think that electronic cigarettes will allow you to take your freedom back. Nicotine addiction is a prison, of sorts. Yes, e-cigarettes will allow you to smoke in public (though that is being debated). They will allow you to have freedom from the poisons of tar and some of the other harmful toxins in tobacco smoke. But are they a path to freedom? I don’t think so.
You should switch bulbs. If you are using incandescent light bulbs in your house, it’s worth your time and energy to switch them over to LED bulbs.
Two of my kids recently joined me for a fun day at the Denver Auto Show. Even though Rachel may not be considered a typical car fan, she loved our time together. Part of the appeal for her was free promotional stuff. 
I was not planning on going to church today. I was instead going to do my taxes. You know, “Give to Caeser…” and all that business, so skipping seemed biblically justified. But I needed to get a DVD from church, so I texted my friend, Arturo, to ask if he could pick it up for me. He texted back, “Sure,” and then proceeded to send me photos “live” from the first service. I thought it was funny that he was not only texting in church, but also taking candid photos.
This truck was once someone’s dream vehicle. They had a huge amount of pride driving it off the dealer’s lot for the first time. Washing the dirt away to keep it shiny clean was a joy. Showing the amazing new features to the next-door neighbors was a delight.
I snapped this old beauty on the way to work a week or so ago. I love the blocky style of the mid-1960s Ford Galaxy 500. It weighs enough to stop a tank, should the driver encounter one on his way to work. It has no airbags or shoulder belts, so his safety was in his own hands.
And as I recently bought a bathtub mat to prevent slips and falls, I experienced tiny bits of pain from the soft bottoms of my feet. The mat’s spiky plastic tines poked into my soles. At first, I thought of taking the mat back. Then I realized it made my feet feel alive.
A recent Wall Street Journal article on triathlons had a sidebar featuring recommended equipment. the “entry-level” road bike was $1,449. that freaked me out a little until I realized that their normal readers are in a class where that price is entry-level.
