Sunday morning

Tonight we're taking my mom to see Kris Kristofferson and Merle Haggard. I've listened to their music for years, since I was a little kid, but I've never seen either one of them live.

Today was the first Sunday of Lent, and it's put me in a pensive mood. I've been thinking about all the ways in which I've been blessed, usually through no effort of my own, but instead by the goodness and grace of people around me. I'm a very grateful man, but I have a lot of work to do. There are times, I think, when we all feel separated from the person we know we should be or the life we want to be living.

For whatever reason, this song always comes up at times like this.

You can't always get what you want

But if you try sometime, you just might find, you get what you need.

And what I need is a drink. A fruity tropical drink, swilled down with gusto, surrounded by tropical foliage and dazzling conversation. So I'm just twitchy with anticipation, waiting to head over to Tiki Terrace Friday night.

My first two days off have been almost entirely consumed by running errands (not mine, other people's) and I have a sense of having gotten nothing worthwhile done. I worked a cool side job today, escorting a few million dollars worth of jewelry for a TV appearance. Some of the jewelry had been worn by Scarlett Johannson, and some was bound for the Oscars this Sunday.

I'm sitting here talking with MizBubs. She's just figured out how to turn the heel of a sock she's knitting. I wish I had any ability to actually create something. MizBubs, and both of our daughters, know how to make stuff: jewelry, clothing, art. So, anyway, we're talking about going down to New Orleans and doing some building. And I'm ranting and bitching about work. Our eldest is getting ready for Fangoria Weekend of Horror in Rosemont this weekend; she's hanging out as a Tromette again.

Get me to the weekend. And get me some sleep.