I am published today.
Then again, I do that every day. I write a post on my blog and click “Publish.” Voila, published!
But I’m in the newspaper today. Last week, I wrote a review for a local bistro on a “Citizen Journalist” site. The next day, I was contacted by the editor telling me they were going to publish it in the print edition. What makes me qualified to be a food critic, you might ask?
I have a palate.
This means that everyone could do it. And all those highbrow restaurant critics are nothing more than palate snobs. Very well-fed palate snobs.
I’ll take it.
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I am really enjoying my calling as pianist for the Primary children at church. I mean, what’s not to love? I hide behind the piano, can pick my nose all I want and nobody pays attention to me unless I royally screw up. Which only happens about 15 times a day.
Recently, we sang my favorite childhood song, “My Heavenly Father Loves Me.” It is a touching song about the beauty of nature and the miracle of our bodies. As I played, I got a bit teary-eyed (again, it was good to be hiding behind the piano). I decided I would love to have sweet, innocent children sing that song at my funeral someday.
In a rare serious moment during our drive home, I decided to impart my wishes upon my loving husband.
“Jamie, I know what I want sung at my funeral.”
“Ding, Dong the Witch is Dead?”
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 