Back and Out and Back Again.

Tea: Pu Erh Dante

Music: UK, "Night After Night"

Time: Night.

Back after an early winter bug hiatus. I envy those who can will themselves well.

First Friday tonight, which began as a work obligation and ended with good conversation.

It is easy, I think, to see artists as only artists, writers as only writers, editors as only editors -- and forget that there are other facets as well. Tonight was a good reminder that at heart ... some of us just like to talk about food and play Scrabble.

(Well, we didn't actually play tonight. But we talked about it.)

Several cool things seen, but it's late and I need to sleep. More later, I'm sure.

Don't Give Me No Blue-Eyed Wimpy Jesus

Tea: Chinese Melon Seed

Music: King Crimson, "Elephant Talk"

Time: Late afternoon.

One thing about being ill is that it's let me catch up on my reading. (Small blessings must be taken where found.)

I finished Christopher Moore's "Lamb" this week. This may get me in trouble in Sunday School, but I liked a good deal of the book.

As a history? Not so much, but it doesn't aim to be a history. It's a story -- funny in some parts, touching in others and surprisingly more reverent than ir. Joshua (that's Jesus to you and me) is presented as more human than He is in the Gospels -- but no less divine, to my eyes.

(And I'm not saying that humanizing Jesus is a bad thing. Too often, He's portrayed as overly soft and serene, not to mention Caucasian-- what I call "Blue-eyed Wimpy Jesus." No, thanks.)

Don't read "Lamb" if you're easily swayed from beliefs. It's not theological truth. And don't read it if the idea of Jesus doing anything but looking tranquil (even while kicking moneychanger butt and/or being crucified) makes you break out in hives.

But if you can take what you know and believe, and sift through a work of fiction to find the truths in it ... well, then, happy reading.

Stuffed

Tea: Lots of kinds, lots of cups.

Music: David Sanborn, "The Dream"

Time: Night.

I had a long, catching-up post written. It's nowhere to be found.

I'm sitting in the driveway, in weather I normally would love (unseasonably cool) but which now aggravates my stuffed head and lungs. Why am I in the driveway? Because the house 'Net is out, and I can't pick up the neighbor's unsecured wireless network from inside.

Oh, and I've been sick, in varying degrees, since late last week, in case I hadn't mentioned that.

Yes, I'm trying to do everything right. I'm drinking tea, eating soup, bundling up and sleeping a lot. I megadosed on Vitamin C, which did interesting things to my insides. I've taken antihistamines, which make me alternately jumpy and stupid but haven't done anything to open me up.

Then again, I'm still out of the hospital, still breathing on my own, still able to sit up and write this. That puts me ahead of a lot of people, and for that I'm grateful.

And I'm wide open to the possibility, the likelihood even, that the antihistamines and the C and the tea/soup/sleep have kept things from getting a lot worse.

And now, if you'll excuse me ... it's time for the pill that makes me stupid.

Voiceless

Tea: Blackcurrant

Music: Twisted Sister, "We're Not Gonna Take It"

Time: Night.

Long absence, I know. Death (my wife's other grandmother), illness (mine) and fatigue (ditto).

And tonight, the microphone on my cell phone went out. Not the earpiece, mind you, only the mic. So while I can hear, I cannot speak.

I readily acknowledge that I could be a better listener, but this is ridiculous. And besides, there are words I would say that I can't. And while sometimes that's a good thing, this isn't one of those times.