There is little I can fault with the weekend that just past. It was relaxing, but not overly lazy. I got some things done that needed to be done, but it was not so much that it took over the entire weekend. I went to that Bucs game, and it was pretty cool. It’s funny to find myself saying that about a game where my team got crushed, but it’s the truth (I had fun and the Bucs got crushed, but I’m referring to the good time I had). On Sunday I slept in about as Late as I have since Beth was born. (Have I said that here before? I’m getting an overwhelming case of deja vu coming on.) Beth was mostly on her best behavior, and Cheryl was a little more relaxed. Cheryl being really sick had something to do with it, but beyond everyone being low key there was a sense of serenity in the air. I feel a little bad admitting this in light of Cheryl being under the weather, but life was good. No Cheryl, I’m not taking pleasure in you discomfort, it just seemed nice, the pace a little slower. This is where I dig the hole deeper and Cheryl retorts, “I’m glad it was relaxing for you while I ran around all weekend doing chores – while I was sick no less!” This is not to say that I did nothing, I did seem busy at times. The key was the pace was not frenetic.

How do you make a new friend? You would think that little effort ought to go into the process. I think that some may work too hard at it when the opportunity arises. I think it is because they work at it that they sometimes fail. This is something about myself that I would like to work on.

No, this is not what you may be thinking. There are moments when everything seems profound, and my mind is a fountain of compelling ideas. These are the times that I like to sit down with my computer and commit my thoughts to black and white. About five minutes ago I was in such a state. The problem with these times is that they are fleeting. Any distraction that pops up seems to vaccinate my mind from any infectious intelligent thought. Just as quickly as the mood was found, it is gone. Maybe this is what everyone that feels inspired to write goes through. Then again, maybe it’s just a sign of mental illness.