Voices

My family loves to sing.  Some of those numbered among us are excellent and are allowed to qualify themselves as a 'singer', others sound good in a group (which is excellent because as we gather around Grams' piano it is usually in large numbers), while others can't carry a tune in a 10 gallon bucket.  But we sing.  We sing in the shower.  We sing while getting ready, which is grand when the four girls at the mirror decide on the same song but a bit difficult when James Taylor is being sung in one corner of the house and Taylor Swift in the other as our voices are loud!  We sing in the car with our windows down, we like fresh air and providing entertainment to the passersby.  We sing when we hear a good tune in the mall or if a melody randomly pops into our heads as we walk down the beach.  We sing in the kitchen as we cook. We sing to the little ones as they rub their eyes and cling to their favorite blanket.  We then gather around the piano or hand the guitar to the most capable and sing through the night.  Its who we are and I love it.

One of my favorite moments of the week is the first hour of worship on Sunday, especially when I'm with my family.  As the single, and favorite, granddaughter/daughter/niece/sister/cousin I get to sit next to whomever I choose.  My choice is never difficult.  I sit on the open side of Gramps or Papa, Uncle or cousin, brother (it is a rare Sabbath when there is more than one of them as choice but on such an occasion I usually choose the eldest of them all).  As that first song's introduction is played they each pull out that green hymnal and hold it for me to see, no need to share the weight.  Then it begins, they sing in full voice their praises to the heavens.  My heart is happy.  I tend to get lost in the strength and testimony buoying up each note they release and miss a verse or two with my own voice.  Its peaceful and splendid.

Growing up Papa worked for Uncle Tom.  Uncle Tom is a burly man with a heart of gold.  Uncle Tom's smile warms a room and his laugh is infectious.  Uncle Tom loves to open up that green hymnal and sing but the notes he finds are rarely written on the page, in fact I'm not certain they could be written.  He is not a musical genius creating a harmony for the heavens to pause and listen to.  Rather, he is so far from the melody and a sweet harmony that some may be offended.  Not me.  I grew with him sitting a row behind us each Sunday.  And his voice, to me, is just as sweet as those men in my family as it is full of life, joy, and hope. Hearing "I Know that My Reedemer Lives" as Uncle Tom sings it with such passion and conviction in said truth is something that, even thinking of it now, makes my heart happy.  I miss him sitting behind me on Sundays.

When I'm away from family I attempt to find someone with a suit coat on primarily as I'm a frozen girl always but especially in places of worship where the air conditioner is turned on 365 days a year at full blast.  But then, just below that on my list of hopes, is someone that sings with the joy of Uncle Tom.  Ace was my companion for a bit as we shared a home.  And that nine o'clock meeting that forced me to be awake by seven thirty was my favorite the minute that low note was hit half way through the first verse.  I would stop singing and he would smirk, knowing I was happy with the sound.  When he left it was rough finding a replacement but Binx or Doc would bring the same happiness.  Binx delicately hitting the harmony and Doc maybe finding two right notes in a five verse hymn ... they just love singing and it makes this heart happy.

Apart from Sunday I seek company that isn't afraid to belt out a tune.  Anytime I'm with that friend that is that friend I call when the world falls apart I will look up to him, bat my eyes a bit, hook my arm in his and ask for a bit of "Magic", something from Guys and Dolls, or a bit of Billy Joel.  Walking down the street of Salt Lake or driving with the top down and California sun on my face is better with his voice in my ear.  Its an immediate feeling of security.  Its an immediate reminder of when life was a bit simpler.  Its an immediate smile on face and wave of happiness in my heart.

Late Saturday nights are pretty close to perfect when a guitar is in hand and an unabashed voice graces the air.

When I'm alone in the car or attempting to bring order to a month's worth of clean laundry strewn on my bedroom floor my music of choice is the 'Testosterone Tunes' ... not a Rocky medley but rather a compilation of songs sung in a beautiful male voice.  I go from Mikey and Straight No Chaser to Uncle Mike's music.  Bui-Doi to Lilly's Eyes to Forever in Blue Jeans.  I'm just more incline to not begrudge the laundry pile or yell at the car that cut me off if a male voice is ringing in my ear.

I don't think I'm alone in my love the male voice.  Last night we listened to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and Nathan Pacheco.  The choir was spotless, as usual.  Nathan took my breath away, over and over again. I was at the edge of my 15th row on the balcony seat, awaiting each note.  The entire audience of thousands matched my enthusiasm and eagerness for the next word, stanza, and song.  Why Mac didn't allow him a final portion of "Come Thou Fount" is the first thing I will address with Mac, if I ever meet him.  Nathan's voice reaches the hidden pockets of your heart.  It causes eruptions of feelings that you were certain no longer existed, or at the very least were packed tightly away in a dark corner, as it transcends any inability to 'use words'. It makes me happy.

Singing voices, whether pitchy, far from the melody or any fathomable harmony, or spot on make me happy. Please sing today!    

I'm Good

Okay ... okay.  I'll update you.

I quit my job.  Yes, that job that I loved with my whole heart that was so flexible and so kind and my family of sorts, I quit.  It wasn't exactly planned but it most certainly was the correct decision for me.  The days leading up to my final day held all of the drama that the previous six years did not but I felt such overwhelming support that I did not flinch when I gave my notice and left that 'home'.  So, don't fret over me, I'm good.

Yes, there are the occasional Sunday evenings where I hear someone begin to whine about work the next day and the Anxious Annie comes out ... shouldn't I be whining?  Shouldn't I be leaving at a decent hour to sleep (ha, that's never been a decision I've made, even with seven o'clock calls on Monday)?  Shouldn't I be dressed in more than jeans and my white T or leggings on a Thursday afternoon?  The answer to all of these questions at current time is a fervent NO.  I'm good.

The summer sans work has been delightful.  A friend of mine, moments after the drama came to a halt with my exit, called and said, "Let's hop in the Prius and go to California."  So I did that.  There is something about sitting underneath a lemon tree with the men of my life that settles the soul.  There is something about sitting up with Robs until 4 am that reminds me that no matter the circumstance there is a home for me in that room that once was Uncle's office.  There is something about the hustle and bustle of a morning with Girlfriend and Cowboy that puts everything into perspective, a hopeful and hilarious perspective.  There is something about throwing a football in the sand after being swept up in waves for a half an hour that makes my heart so happy.  There is something about laying by the pool with Aunt Charma, discussing the growth of the cousins that I remember as babies, that reminds me that life is moving on with or without me.  And there is something about being 187 miles from my bed and having a bit of a break down and having a driver with a calm and steady voice reminding me that life is going on with me. I'm good.

I returned to only hop into Joe with favorites and head to Jackson Hole.  Excuse me world, did you know that Jackson Hole is one of the most beautiful places to exist?  It is.  We spent Sunday at the foot of the Lake, discussing all things of importance.  We solved the world's problems and figured out why people aren't married (to be clear, none of the company is in a serious relationship).  We climbed up the mountain and my mind got lost in the sound of the rushing water.  It was breath taking, every view from every climb.  I may or may not be contemplating buying a lot of green and khaki colored clothing and moving there for the remainder of my days.  I haven't yet.  I'm good.

Tomorrow I'm leaving for a north trip, Logan/Bear Lake/Idaho.  I am certain it will be just as delightful as my previous excursions.  I'm good.

On an entirely separate note but a soapbox I would like to stand on for a moment ... Dating resumes.  Evening last I was sitting around the fire (I'll be generous and call it such) with a new group of fellas, a good group of good looking guys.  We discussed sports for a long time and I held my own.  We discussed politics for a minute and I held my own.  Then we discussed dating and the fact that resumes would be quite beneficial, I may have gotten quiet and found no solid ground for this topic.  I spent the majority of last night thinking what my resume would look like, the references I could offer, and what might be said by said references.  HA!  I'd have to coach them through those conversations.

Potential Man: So does Kasi speak openly about things?
Reference: HA! Have you ...
Me (whisper): SHHH!! Say, "Kasi speaks openly about things, yes." I do, I speak openly about sports!
Potential Man: Okay, does she push a relationship too quickly?
Reference: HA! Have you met ...
Me (loud whisper):  SHHHH!! Say, "Don't use the word relationship with her and she'll be okay with you pushing it when the time is right."
Reference (to me): Have you met you?!?
Potential Man: Does Kasi have issues with commitment?
Reference: HA! Have you met her?!
Me (kicking him): SHHH!!! Say, "Kasi is a loyal person."

Perhaps references won't be necessary?!?!  I could simply offer the things I'm good at, the things all of my married males friends list every time the "Kasi, why aren't you married?" conversation occurs (these are my married friends that I didn't date).  And, here's the kicker, I think moving forward in dating I will be certain to be the gal that could have the guy offer a reference, without coaxing, to the next guy.  That's an excellent goal ... something that may be difficult as I've got some dating/car buying habits that run deep ("My experience finding a new car ~ I think I love it but then I sit in it for the second or third time and wonder if I really do love it or if there is a better choice just down the road at the other dealership. So I go to the other dealership and find a car that I love. I decide on that one but then get it in again and wonder if I loved the other one at the other dealership more or perhaps if there is one on another lot somewhere that will fit better ... I am annoyed with my own behavior {and should likely apologize to every guy I've ever dated for my decision pattern}."). But I'm making this a public conversation, so I'm accountable to the 67 of you that frequent this place.  I can change, heck, I LEFT MY JOB!! I can be an adult in a relationship!! So, there is that. I'm good.