I am sitting in my favorite wired cafe, drinking my favorite (flavored-- sorry) coffee.
I am NOT working on my sermon. The other 3/4 of that puppy will have to wait until tomorrow.
I am NOT planning a funeral or writing a funeral meditation. All is quiet on the western (read: nursing home) front.
I am NOT running to the hospital. The lovely-woman-just-my-age is doing just fine, thanks. And thank Godde.
I am NOT doing last-minute bulletin stuff-- done.
I am NOT working on March newsletter items. Done, done and done.
Reading the New York Times, especially interesting cultural phenomena such as this. (Can't wait to hear Petra's commentary on that one... she was sort of weaned on "Rent." Explains a lot.)
Chatting up our Presbytery Vice-Chief-Cook-And-Bottle-Washer, who's here for a meeting (I'm Chief-Cook-And-Bottle-Washer this year. Yet another example of my susceptibility to flattery in all its forms.).
Eating a Berryola: Yogurt, raspberries and granola.... mmmm.
Contemplating my next move: swinging by home to pick up Petra in order to go guitar shopping. Yay, and yay! She's on school vacay this week, and we've hardly seen each other! Except for our late-night Lost and House and DespHou marathons.
Aside: Anyone else out there watch Lost? We are late to it, as is our custom with all things TV. Except for Ugly Betty and the Gilmore Girls, which we managed to glom onto from the first episodes, we are typically 3 to 10 years late for TV phenomena. Larry-O recently started posting SpaceHook status updates, saying things like, "Larry-O is LOST," and "Larry-O is OMFG!" (Don't know what that last one means. Could someone explain please? I'm batting my eyes.) We are nearing the end of season one, and OMG!!!!
Saying hello to you lovely people! Hello! I'm alive!
Ah. At last.