My fifteen days of vacation started Tuesday. Friday I leave for a week long mission trip to West Virginia, so I've spent most of the last two days preparing for the trip. And by preparing, I don't necessarily mean packing. I adhere to a strict "no packing more than 24 hours before departure" rule. Bad things happen when this rule gets broken. So I'll be doing laundry and running around all day Friday before frantically running to catch my 10:00 pm flight (note to self: find a ride to the airport).
Yesterday was a great day...due in part to a fun trip to Barnes & Noble. If you can read this, you should do both of the following within the next 24 hours:
1. thank a teacher
2. go buy (or rent from your local library) Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. I'll quote the Author's Note from the beginning of the book:
I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn't resolve. But I was outside the Bagdad Theater in Portland one night when I saw a man playing the saxophone. I stood there for fifteen minutes, and he never opened his eyes.
After that I liked jazz.
Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way.
I used to not like God because God didn't resolve. But that was before any of this happened.
I was immediately drawn in...and by page four I was sold. I'm only 84 pages in, and already I'm having to make myself read it slowly and savor it. Chick-fil-A was pretty busy today, so I don't think anyone else in the lunch crowd noticed me laugh out loud AND get misty-eyed while reading at my corner table. More on the book later.
In other consumer news, I bought an iPod today. There are no words for my level of excitement. Three years ago I went to Europe and I spent less time deciding on how to fill my itinerary than I did on how to fill my mp3 player. Hours I spent agonizing over which songs would make the cut and go on to be the soundtrack to me and my backpack. Those 24 songs still hold a special place in my heart. And now I've got thousands of songs at my fingertips. If I was still young and limber, I'd be doing cartwheels out in the parking lot. (well, not really, but you get the point).