In Which I am Very Disappointed in my Offspring

We found this note (scribbled in kid's Crest toothpaste and reading "Your dead Dad") on our bathroom mirror:

Needless to say, I was very disappointed.

I mean, how can I call myself an English professor when my very own children don't know the difference between "your" and "you're?"

Mini Lent is Officially OVER

To celebrate, all of us had a drive-through breakfast this morning.



We learned a lot of really depressing and disturbing things from Mini Lent. I won't go into them here because this blog isn't supposed to be depressing OR disturbing.

Well, maybe a *little* disturbing... ;-)

Well, I guess that changes the perspective

I was feeling particularly moody and/or crappy and/or down on myself this morning. So, I did what I normally do when feeling particulary moody and/or crappy and/or down on myself: I started playing the piano. I'm not super great at the piano, but I like to play it. I make up songs and play songs I like and somehow by the end, I usually feel better.

Well, today I was playing and it just wasn't helping. "Listen to this drivel you're playing, Kerry," thought I. "You're a stupid hack who obviously can't write music and obviously *anything* you try to write is going to be crappy. I mean, seriously! Listen to that melody line!"

Full stop.

I listen to the melody line.

And suddenly I realize that I haven't been playing something that *I* wrote.

I've been playing Dvorak.

Dvorak.

Like, one of the greatest composers of the 19th century.

Yeah.

(You can hear the BYU men's chorus sing what I was playing here.)