Closing up shop
- Wednesday, Aug. 02, 2006

It may be time for a change
- Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Entry in the air
- Friday, April 21, 2006

Still here
- Thursday, April 20, 2006

Music of the moment
- Wednesday, March 1, 2006



101 in 1001
American Road Trip, 1998


Dancing Brave
Fugging It Up
Kitty Sandwich
Mister Zero
Sideways Rain


My crew
Our host

Monday, Mar. 28, 2005 - 2:42 p.m.

I'm going to have to make up for this one

Yesterday was the least Easterly of Easters I've ever had. I didn't do any of the giving-up-stuff for Lent this year. Usually I attempt to stop biting my fingernails (never works) and refuse to set foot in any fast-food restaurants (or the drive-thrus), but I did neither this year. The fingernails are as stubby as usual, but I've cut back on the fast-fooding in general, so I wouldn't have accomplished much had I avoided the two trips I made in the past 40 days. And both, I believe, were brought on by a disappointing dinner order at work that left me starving at 7:30 on a Monday night.

Then yesterday, Casey and I drive down to my parents' and get baskets that my sister and I still had to search for in the house. My father hid them in the dining room, under things, and we probably hurt his feelings a little with our whining and complaining, but we're in our mid- and late-20s and there's no need to hide the baskets under maps in a bucket. We still let them put our loot in baskets, that should be enough. I wonder, too, if mom's really disappointed in my lack of church going. The only time I go on Sundays nowadays is per her request for Mother's Day or Easter. Just not this year. I'm not giving up on God or anything, but I just don't feel the need to personally visit a church every week. But I suspect she knows it's just not my thing. I've been complaining for decades now, and I still consider the best part of my confirmation classes to be the teacher whose idea of class was to spend five minutes talking about a Bible story, then 20 minutes walking a few blocks into town to the bakery where he got himself a cup of coffee and the three or four of us in the class bought donuts.

Last week, the speculation about the Pope's health amped up a bit, with some rumors going so far as to say he was dead, but the Vatican didn't want to make that announcement before Easter. So I anticipated a Weekend At Bernie's-type ruse wherein the Pope stands on his balcony in a baseball cap and sunglasses, his handlers standing closer than usual and his arms waving akwardly. Sick thoughts, I know, but I chuckled nonetheless. I mean, I knew he wasn't dead, so that had to make it better, right?

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