This morning I watched someone, deliberately and with visible concentration, pour applesauce from one of those little plastic containers onto the steering wheel of his car while he was driving. I'm sorry to burden you with that piece of information but it is an image that through a wearying day has still dominated the spoonful of grey matter set aside for "bloggable things".

And, I'm finally beginning to think more about "A Tale of Two Cities". That is, I've made friends with the book itself. What I really want to do is to read "Pickwick" though, and be entertained. Why is it that I always want to be entertained?! Dash it all! I should read a good five pages of Byron for penance. But! I am a coward, so I'll settle for Robert Frost who, by pure coincidence, is immensely entertaining:)

I look forward, tomorrow, to traipsing to and fro upon the earth with one of my favorite pairs of purple socks. Not solely, of course:) but somehow the promise of purple socks makes the day look just a tad less terrifying.

And I leave you with a short poem. I first had this up in magnetic poetry on our poetry board downstairs, but I'm afraid it might disappear soon, so I'm recording it here. It is about the nature of Death (all you who plan on referencing Terry Pratchett I beg have mercy:) and it is from a definitely Christian perspective. (Speaking of, I will get back to that debate, after the weekend is over.) And it is shorter than my comment on it. Here goes:

"If never a son was in the sky,
Then nothing could nature sanctify.
Through night we breathe a heavenly doom
As from earth emerge vine and bloom."

--r.m. (use only with permission of the author, etc.)