When The Blues Aren’t That Blue

B.B. King was signing about how he gave her seven children and now she wants to give them back, while delicious smells were making their way to where I was.  Normally Beloved leaves the blues to me, as he finds them too, well down beat.  I enjoy the blues, especially while baking.  It seems like Belovd was borrowing a page from my book.  At least it seemed that way from where I was.

The reality was a bit different.  Belived was in fact baking, oatmeal scones made with toasted oatmeal.  What I was smelling was him toasting the oatmeal in the oven for the scones.  The music?  It seems that the online radio was stuck.  On the station I listen to. Try as he might, Beloved was unable to get the station to change.  He gave up and just got on with business of baking.  Because it was a surprise.  For me.

He hasn’t made these scones in forever and a day.  But after a few less than stellar days of lupus news and symptoms, he decided I needed the scones.  Not a peace-offering, just a means of helping me feel better.  But what really made me smile more than the scones was Beloved signing to B.B. King.  Because Beloved isn’t a blues singer, more opera than the blues so it makes for a bigger smile on my face.  Because life is made up of these little moments filled with big smiles despite adversity and, well, the blues.

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