we have turned

we have turned every one to his own way.

This year we practiced three times, each for several hours. We labored over the 16th note runs ("For Unto Us a Child is Born" really is the hardest). We practiced the final "Amen" the night before the event (and that is harder than the 16th notes).

About halfway through the evening, my voice opened up a bit and it was easier to achieve those Fs and Gs.

Toward the end of "All We Like Sheep" there is a bit that changes up the runs on "we have turned" and C and I went over and over that until we nailed it. Last night, however, I did not nail it. At the end of it, I second-guessed myself and went astray. More accurately, I just gave up and came in at the next measure. And I knew it! And we'd practiced!

Strangely, "Lift Up Ye Heads" was the chorus I sang best. That was a surprise.

breaking up is hard to do

Dear Wine,

you are no good for me and I don't think we should see each other any more. I think it's best if this is a clean break--don't call or write or text or email. I know how that will go: you'll say "let's just get together for a few minutes, just for one glass." Next thing I know, I've drunk you all up. Honestly, if I'm going to lose control like that, I'd rather do it with chocolate or cheese.

love,

the philosophotarian.

ps. I mean it. I mean it super hard.

Wherein the curse of eve is a mighty curse

And lo, the angel of the lord came upon them and the glory of the lord shone round upon them: and they were sore afraid.

Suffering under Eve's heavy curse, I rolled out the pie pastry for Thursday's pie. It didn't feel right. I couldn't tell what was wrong or different, but it was not the same and it was despised and I esteemed it not. Like sheep, it had gone astray, and turned every one to its own way.

And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

And so I made a chocolate cake as well, just in case the pie was not edible. Alas, it, too, like a sheep had gone astray and turned to its own way. And so the cake was not quite right, either.

At that point, I contemplated a pumpkin spice cake. It was midnight: For, behold, the darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people. Yet the people that walked in darkness have seen a great light. So I went to bed instead.

Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

The next morning, I arose and shone, and ate a tiny piece of the pie. Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion; shout, O daughter of Jerusalem: the pie was not terrible! It was indeed safe to eat. I ate a small sliver of cake, too: Comfort ye, comfort ye my people. The cake was not terrible, either. A smidge dry, and a smidge dark: not bad at all.

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,

Thanksgiving was going to be just fine.

Cooking while cursed and while practicing for this year's DIY Messiah is so wonderfully dramatic.