Saturday, January 1, 2011

Nappy You Hear

Following last night's revelry of antioxidant-rich, Pomegranate 7-Up and a 500 tournament (in which my fiery crash of defeat was matched only by last year's excursion to Loserville), I spent this morning drifting in and out of slumber with a disorganized parade of thoughts trying to gain my attention:

  • Did I remember to make that payment that is always due the first of the month?
  • Is anybody else going to buy one of my books (Almost the Truth about Youth Ministry or Almost the Truth: The Blog Archive 2008-2009) this year? (
  • I really need to write up that book proposal for I Am Legion and get it to some actual-factual publishers, instead of living in the wilderness of self-publishing.
  • Is that a raccoon on the roof? (For the source of this stray thought, see a previous post:
  • Another year, another chance for Lindsay Lohan to hose up her rehab.
  • As of this morning, here in Minnesota, if you drive into an intersection and there isn't room ahead of you to drive out, you are now breaking a addition to being fairly stupid.
  • Ack! I need to write a meditation today to share at the communion table Sunday!
  • Something warm for breakfast would be nice.
  • Did I damage our roof when I spent six hours Christmas Eve with a mini-sledgehammer getting rid of the ice that had built up around the eaves? (There's a reason why those are called ice dams and not ice darns.)

May the coming trip around the sun find us all a little wiser, a little more content, and a lot more able to sleep in without a brain battle bending every bouncing bunch of baloney into a weapon of somnolence destruction.