Friday and counting

Some mornings I wake up and rise early, most mornings. Coffee, magic mug of hot & black, and open something, phone or book or computer. Phone for weather and maybe scroll through emails. Computer for news and more detail of emails, maybe lectionary to read Sunday lessons and see if there’s anything I might want to blog about. 

Oh, while coffee is brewing, slide the glass door open to peer outside, close the door quickly if too cold for me, or too hot and muggy; or, as this morning, step outside to stand at 7H porch railing and admire creation, Bay ahead and to left and right, downtown PC down the shoreline to east and round past Tarpon Dock Bridge, Cove Condo and Tyndall AFB, Davis Point. To the west, the Pass, BayPoint, PCB gulf-front high-rises with their lights along Thomas Drive. Straight head of me and to the south, a few lights on Shell Island, over, and beyond into the Universe as far as it goes.

Anyway, coffee and action. This morning open "Darkness" and read a section to the end of the chapter, aware that Stonewall Jackson is dying, it seems like the doctor with him senses it, and Bubba here is on the wrong side as a matter of birthright and heritage. Turn in my swivel chair and stare out the window into that cool darkness before dawn, maybe wishing to be back in the age of train travel before the shift to air travel that I despise. 

Open Wiman and read a section or two or three. Wiman is not captivating, he’s either disturbing or alarming. 

Close Wiman with the bookmark and open computer to see whether I want to loose the dancing fingers to type their nonsense while I doze, or give it a miss. Increasingly closing the computer lid to give it a miss. 

Fix a little breakfast, this morning a large mushroom pan fried in butter and a catfish filet sandwich, bought the catfish from the deli at the Pig. Handful of heart pills and retire back to bed for a nap. That’s where I find myself now.

So, no blogpost today then; and in an abundance of caution lest I've again revealed too much and all of it politically incorrect, I've moved everything recent from Publish back to Draft. The Lord loves a cheerful giver but He doesn't need me running off at the mouth saying stupid things.

For later: in Bart Ehrman's blog he's writing stuff about the gospels that really interests me, good reading for later.

But for now, morning nap.

RSF&PTL

T89&c

photo looking between the slats of the shutter by my swivel chair, 6:09 o'clock Friday morning, thirty days hath September, April, June, and November; all the rest have thirty-one, except February, which has twenty-eight in line, 'til Leap Year brings it twenty-nine.