Where's the line between being supportive and going crazy?

As I look back on the benefits of moving to Michigan, Sean getting to take organ lessons in definitely in the top 10. Actually having an organ in the house... not top 10 for me, but a highlight for Sean for sure.

We had house guests this summer who broke the organ and we haven't figured out how to get it fixed. (It's not like there are a bunch of organ specialists around any more.) Who knew I'd miss the sounds of the organ... 

Throwback Thursday
August 24, 2007

I've been listening to Sean practice the organ for 30 minutes now. Normally, I enjoy hearing him practice; normally his practicing is only ten or 15 minutes.

I had been listening to my iPod, the best invention ever (EVER), but turned it off because he can't practice with it on. I was working in the kitchen, cleaning up from dinner and cheerfully folding laundry, singing along with Michael W. Smith, Amy Grant, the cast from Mama Mia! and Wicked, Journey and Chicago. I was just about to hear a golden oldie from Paul Simon when organ practice began.

I normally enjoy hearing Sean practice. He’s always wanted to play the organ, and believe it or not, I found a very active Organ Guild chapter here in Lansing. So for Christmas, I gave him 10 lessons with the president of the Organ Guild. He has absolutely loved it! And I truly have loved it for him. But for the last many minutes all I've heard is what sounds like music you hear as you’re ushered to your seat at a formal wedding. Or a funeral.

I feel as if my head is going to explode.

I am a fan of all types of music. But for crying out loud, I cannot fold t-shirts to All Offertorio by Domenico Zipoli. I need Kenny Loggins and Amy Grant and Don Henley, each of which was coming up in the wonderful world of my iPod’s shuffle.

This was not covered in our pre-marital counseling…