Where my mind took me...

I firmly believe that every person should reserve one day each week -- minimum -- where life is not guided by lists or schedules or "things" that need doing. For me, that day is Sunday. I'm not always successful. Too often the rest of the week seems to flow into Sunday and I end up finishing or fixing or reviewing or planning.

Today, I was successful.

From the moment I opened my eyes this morning, I simply did whatever it was that came next. "What sounds good?" I asked myself as the sunlight streamed into my room. First, it sounded good to close my eyes a bit longer. Then, it sounded good to get up and head outside. I started my day with a seven mile bike ride. The weather was wonderful. A little on the chilly side when I started, just near perfect by the time I got back home.

This afternoon I hopped on the bike again and had the pleasure of listening to Lisa Moritz sing on the porch of the William Allen White house. I've been introduced to Lisa previously through Cheryl's website, but this is the first time I've had the opportunity to listen to her in person. She was lovely.

I really appreciated that she told a little bit about each song, what inspired her or a little about the process of writing the lyrics and music. I'm always eager for a glimpse at the processes of other creative-type people. I'm hard pressed to select a favorite song.

Some girls have lovely voices, they sing and it sounds like birds.
Some girls they get the boys and, me, well I've got these words.

These Words, Lisa Moritz

One song, in particular, actually brought tears to my eyes.

She's a little bit fragile, a little bit free, a little bit anxious, and a little in need.

Who is that girl, with her heart on her sleeve?
I can't say for sure, but she looks like me.

Who is That Girl, Lisa Moritz

Lovely day. Got a little reading in and a couple of wonderful meals (prepped ahead yesterday). Spent some good time with the family. Sat out under the trees listening to music and working on a locker-hook rug I'm making from a favorite pair of jeans. They survived more than seven years... some of those years being the only jeans I could fit into! You might say I couldn't bear to throw them out. You might say that this seemed like a quicker, less involved project than the denim quilts I keep coveting.