I have an army of orange juice in my refrigerator.
5 half gallons. I like my OJ (without the Simpson) and it's the next best thing to Florida from which I've just returned. Now if I can just get a Banyan tree, I'll be all set.
I am bone-tired, so this is going to be short and sweet. Some weeks a post just jumps out and grabs me, often because it speaks to my own experience of the day. Other weeks, like this one, I find myself having to make a difficult choice among several. Not because there isn't anything good to choose from, there always is. But rather because each has a different kind of strength.
So I looked them all over again, and finally this piece from Purple Moose emerged. It's solid as a story on its own, but at the same time could've been plucked out of a much larger arc.
In the Spirit of Things
Bobbie fell asleep during the rosary again. Well, not really asleep. Her eyes were open and she was still kneeling upright. She groggily looked around at the others. Her classmates were staring at her, mouths open wide and eyes wider.
It wouldn’t have been so bad, but she was leading the devotions and the rest of the class had been following her lead.
She looked down at the beads trying to make sense of where she had left off. Sighing, she crossed herself – started over. In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.
Now, let's see. What's interesting over here on the shelf? Oh. Did you hear about Mark Twain's newly released autobiography? In honor of Mark Twain, here's a not so innocent word from Innocents Abroad*:
*When in college, I once said to my sister that I wanted to spend a year studying abroad. She replied, "Just any old broad? Or did you have a particular broad in mind?"