I'm Just Sayin'

Beautiful morning, which started with frost. Rosie had turned on the ceiling heat and I turned it off and opened the door and turned on the table fan until my face and ears cooled off.

I slept until after nine, having gone to bed soon after twelve last night, and I’m still tired. I think I’m getting caught up on some long needed rest.

Listening to WUOL, Bach piece that is getting a little monotonous. I’m sure if I had brain-one about the composition of music I’d appreciate the variations and crap he went through with this. Actually I do have an intuitive feeling for what he’s doing but I don’t care to be as exhaustive as he is.

Then there’s Carol Larson, a lovely woman who announces, who (or as she would be sure to say, whom) I have met in person to affirm her loveliness, but sometimes she gets to me because she is so smarmy and prissy, prim and proper. She has had piano lessons and knows music inside and out and assumes her listeners have the same level of knowledge as she does and it ain’t so, Carol. And when she announces a work by a French composer and/or performer, she blows you away with her correct, non-native French. Piss off, Carol, you dear, sweet, phony woman. And God bless you.

Thanks be to God, anyway, today, that I am well again and I hope once more on the right road to recovery.

All three devotionals I'm reading right now were good this morning. The Upper Room is about "new life" (eternal life), which I speculate will be something much, much better than any of us expects. From Daily Reflections, wise counsel not to try to change others, only myself: "live and let live." And Buechner the ecclesiastic poet, in Listening to Your Life, describes the shopworn Christian word, "grace," and reminds us that it's a gift. He says its meaning is something like:

"Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn't have been complete without you. Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid. I am with you. Nothing can ever separate us. It's for you I created the universe. I love you."

I guess those last two sentences are no more fantastic than the glib belief that the Big Bang occurred, something from nothing, without Somebody to light the cosmic fuse.

I'm just sayin'.