Fall Birthdays

To have been born in the glorious autumn season...how lucky can you get? Crisp dewy mornings give way to warm afternoons that turn into cool evenings. Lawns, covered with golden leaves that feel  soft and cushy, then crunchy underfoot, beg to be rescued. Mow them, rake them, shuttle them over the bank, or if you catch a windless day, start a fire and burn them up.

I really should remember to thank my parents for having me in October. Mom has an October birthday too. It's always fun to guess when the leaves will peak...on her birthday in the middle of the month or mine in the first week. This year, I think she'll win.

The leaves were beautiful enough, and I had a great birthday last week. It started with a couple of early morning happy-birthday-phone-calls before breakfast out with a friend. I swam in the afternoon with 2 friends, went to dinner with Tom and 2 of our couple-friends, came home for dessert, chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting (my favorite...thanks Deenie). There were Facebook messages all day long, and I got lots of cards in the mail. Among my gifts is a learn-to-crochet book, hooks and yarn. I'm excited about learning to crochet... again. My mom taught me a long time ago, and I was pretty good at it, but it turns out, you've got to use it or lose it. I pretty much lost it, and that's a situation I intend to remedy.

 

This year, October 4th was a fine day for swimming. Each chance to do laps seems more precious as the inevitable day of closing the pool approaches! Every warm-enough sunny day tempts me and Tom to wait for another one to start the closing process. One of these days, when cleaning out the fallen leaves takes more time than I spend lapping back and forth, we'll give up and give in. Unfortunately, by then we'll be working at closing it with winter coats on, freezing our fingers off, vowing not to wait so long next year. But we will, you know we will.

 

 

Yep it was a great birthday. And I enjoyed it all over again through this recap!

 

Thanks for dropping by and reading my blog. It means a lot to me that you did, so thanks!

What Happened to Yesterday?

What happened to last year for that matter? I have a birthday tomorrow. But wait, didn't I just have one of those? A big one -- just, well let's see, three hundred and sixty some days ago? My, how time flies. And what do I have to show for it?

But that's of no concern to me right now. I'm trying to remember what I've accomplished this week. The list of household chores is long and includes cleaning out and switching two closets, organizing the shoe/hats/gloves cubby (because that kind of weather will be upon us before you know it), and tidying up the shelves above the washer/dryer. I love well arranged closet space. And I love that Tom opens the closet to get at the dog food and says, "Wow, this is so organized. You're amazing."

I say, "Aw shucks, it was nothing."

Nothing? Who am I kidding? Do I think he can't see the bags of trash waiting to go out, the carton of hardly-ever-used stuff waiting to be carried up to the attic, the clutter on every flat surface -- things I wasn't sure where to put, and oh yeah, the absence of delicious aromas signaling dinner's a-cookin'? That would be because dinner is not cooking, nothing's thawed, I don't have a plan, just plain didn't think about dinner. I wasn't hungry...then...but now... I am. Starving in fact.

But hey, Tom thinks I'm amazing. So I assess the situation, and say, "Give me half an hour. I'll get the rest of this clutter busted and fix us something to eat. Then, even I will think I'm amazing.

He mowed lawn, I tidied things up, threw together supper, we ate, took the dogs for a walk, and called it a day.

We were all plumb tuckered.

 

But that wasn't yesterday. It was the day before. Yesterday I paid bills. There's a challenging task. Everything we enjoy and take for granted has to be paid for: electricity, phone, internet, gasoline, groceries, pool chemicals, clothes, and all the must-have niceties. The check book records all we treasure, and as I pay bills I can't help but assess our values: our giving, our spending, our saving.

 

Then I wrote some belated cards for birthdays and anniversaries. Why didn't I write and send them earlier? I've known for an entire year that these special days were coming up for these special people. Well, no use agonizing now. Just get them in the mail and pray that even a belated card touches the addressee and brings a smile. 

 

After than I sorted through and chose sympathy cards to write and send. My heart broke for each grieving person I had to send a card to. Had to. Couldn't not send a card with a few words -- words thought about, prayed over, and written in my own unattractive hand. If only I had beautiful penmanship, perhaps that would make the job easier and give wing to words of compassion and comfort. But no matter the flourish with which it's written...I'm sorry for your loss will be blurred by tears.

 

It took the whole day. It took longer than all the chores I accomplished the day before. And it was exhausting: mentally arduous, emotionally draining, and physically? well you wouldn't think fatiguing, but trust me, it was. No wonder I don't sit down to pay bills and write cards in a timely fashion. I mean really...who has time and heart enough for that? Who can do unto others as they'd like done for themselves? And then not make a big deal of it.  

 

Apparently not me. But that was yesterday. That was what happened to yesterday. 

May The Lord Bless You and Keep You

I love Sundays. Church fills me up and satisfies me for about a week. And then no matter how my week goes, great, terrible or so-so, by Sunday I can't wait to go back again.  It's great -- the people, the music, singing along, the liturgy, the sermon, and participating in communion. I love having communion every week. I surely wouldn't want to miss an opportunity to get more of God in me. Ever. Really, it's not enough until the bread and wine are served and the Pastor says: May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the gifts of his body and blood strengthen, keep and unite us, now and forever. Amen.

 

Then to celebrate after the feast, we sing:

 

Praise to you, O God of mercy; Thanks be to you forever!

Raising high the weak and lowly;Thanks be to you forever!

 

From of old you loved and sought us; Thanks be to you forever!

Truth and justice you have taught us; Thanks be to you forever!

 

Strong is your faithfulness, strong is your love, rememb'ring your covenant of life with us.

 

It makes me feel like dancing.  And then the blessing is pronounced, May the Lord bless you and keep you. May the Lord make His face shine upon you and be gracious to you. May the Lord look on you with favor and grant you peace.  

 

Don't you love it? I do. I fell in love with that blessing from Numbers 6:24-26, more than 40 years ago when Tom and I attended a Lutheran church. Liked it so much, we used it in our wedding. No doubt that's why the marriage lasted these 43 years.

 



Serendipity!

I retreated this past weekend with 4 other women from our (St. Paul's Lutheran) church to a lovely camp named Lutherlyn, a name as pretty as its picture.

 

September, in our neck of Pennsylvania, is just beginning to give up the green, but this picture of Lutherlyn from a previous autumn is what we have to look forward to. There are only hints of color now, but dramatic coloration like this is on the way -- count on it!

 

Looking at pictures from the website, clearly this spot of God's earth is beautiful all year 'round. I do hope I get to go back and see other seasons as well.

 

Camp Lutherlyn -- fall, winter, spring. 

 

We packed up our pastor's wife's van with sleeping bags, suitcases, book bags, purses, snacks, and raingear -- the forecast promised rain. I'm happy to say we all fit -- us and our paraphernalia, everything it would take to keep 5 women comfortable and stylish in a campy sort of way for the whole weekend. 

 

While in line to register women greeted one another, chattering and laughing, renewing acquaintances with people from previous years, hugging long time friends. And suddenly I realized -- as a first-timer, there would be no one here for me to re-connect with. It was momentarily disconcerting, but no reason to be sad. I love making new friends, and I came with 4 delightful gals who made me feel ever so welcome. Still, it gave me pause...because, like the theme song from Cheers says, "sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name..." At that moment I was engulfed in a homesick feeling. I wanted to know someone there -- besides the women I came with. I wanted to greet someone with a hug. Someone whose name I knew. Someone who knew my name... and was glad I came.

 

Silly me. The homesickness passed as quickly as it came. We all got registered. With packets in hand, three of our group returned to the car to drive our luggage to the location of our cabin. Ida and I chose to stretch our legs with a walk to our assigned cabin. Ida -- Aunt Idy to two of the gals in our group -- is 83 years old and spry as a spring chicken. She and I hoofed it up the hill on gravel and dirt pathways. She, pointing out the dining hall over there and one of the meeting halls down there. Me, taking it all in and trying to keep up. Yes, this was going to be a wonderfully rejuvenating, fall getaway.

 

I paid little attention to the names of speakers for the weekend and hadn't read the bios in our packet of information. Everything was new to me, the campgrounds, the meeting halls, the cabins, and the people. It was all new, and all good. And refreshing.

 

Right off I liked the Bible teacher's presentation. There was something familiar about his style and mannerisms. He reminded me of someone, but I couldn't for the life of me think who. The next morning, while he was speaking I glanced at the short bio page, Pastor Blair Morgan, (The Rev. Dr. Blair W. Morgan to be exact). 

 

Hmmm, I knew a guy named Blair, like 40 some years ago, when I was in Young Life.

 

He had already referenced his age -- my age.

 

The bio said he was from Pittsburgh and attended Penn State University. Same as the Blair I knew.

 

And then he mentioned his years with a parachurch organization called Young Life.

 

How about that? I kind of, sort of, knew someone after all. When I introduced myself to him he asked if I was married to Tommy or Mike Henning. Tommy. Hardly anyone calls him that anymore, just family and friends close like family. I loved hearing Blair reminisce and use my husband's old familiar boyhood name. We shared stories and asked each other about long lost friends...triggering memories now four decades old.

 

What a treat to be greeted so warmly, a delight to exchange hugs. Somebody knew my name... and was glad I came.  

 

No one, and certainly neither of us, has led a completely charmed life, but a blessed life to be sure. Count Your Blessings, don't overlook any -- see what God has done. All weekend long we were encouraged to count our blessings.

 

In retrospect I've been thinking, I never would have been at this W-ELCA Retreat (Women of the Evangelical Lutheran Church) if some pretty difficult trials hadn't come my way last year. Without those trials I'd have missed two blessings: a fabulous retreat and a serendipitous reunion. Like it says in the book of James, "Count it all joy my brothers and sisters, when trials come your way." Yep, count it all joy! Trials today, blessings tomorrow. A foretaste and glimpse of glory to come. 

 

What a splendidly refreshing time it was with my W-ELCA friends, Kristine, Wylda, Nita, and Ida. You're on my list of blessings girls!     

Sunrise, Sunset

I've heard that sunsets at Presque Isle are a wonder to behold. We've only lived nearby for 38 years, I guess it was time to see for ourselves. And yes, it is a beautiful, restful, inspiring thing to watch the sun go down over the waters of Lake Erie.

 

This picture was from a few weeks ago, Labor Day evening. Tom and I, and a good friend of ours picnicked on Subway sandwiches, strolled the beach, and then parked ourselves on a bench to watch the sky turn all shades of pink, orange, and purple, as the golden sun slowly set. The breeze was damp and cool. The sand still held a hint of warmth. A group of young people splashed in the waves -- laughing, squealing, dunking each other. Pictures can't do it justice and a video would be like watching someone else's home movies. But it was fun, and perhaps we should take it in more often.

 

And then the show was over. The sun called it a day -- at least for our part of the world. Somewhere else the sun was rising, ushering in a brand new day. Sunrise. Sunset.

That reminds me. During communion this morning, our pianist tickled my ears and heart with "The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow." She always has a connection between the church calendar day, or a particular current event and the tune she chooses to play. As I took communion I pondered...why this song?

Maybe because the Scripture was about the lost sheep and the lost coin. In Sunday School class we discussed losses and being lost. There were tears as stories were shared, wonder at how God met individuals in times of need and devastating loss, hope in hearing how a heavenly Father drew near bringing comfort and peace.

A loss is sad and being lost is scary.

Just thinkin' about tomorrow clears away the cobwebs, and the sorrow 

Finding something gone missing, or being found yourself is reason to rejoice.

I just stick out my chin and grin and say... 

But -- perhaps she chose it as her prayer for the people of Boulder, Colorado, where rain has brought flooding and havoc. Dear God, let the sun come out for people ravaged by rain. Help them hold on until the sun comes out again.

The sun 'll come out tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow, there'll be sun. 

Every tomorrow won't be cloudy. Keep watching the sunsets, knowing that the sunrise will come tomorrow, and some of those tomorrows will be beautifully sunny. Pray for those who are having cloudy days. Pray for those who can't see the sunshine. Pray that the Son of God will shine on them.

In peace, in peace, let us pray to the Lord.

Lord have mercy,

Christ have mercy,

Lord have mercy.

Help, save and defend us, O God.

Amen.

 

The Last Lily

I don't have roses or I'd post the last rose of summer. But Tom noticed one day lily still hanging on, and even a tiger lily, so he captured them with the digital camera. But these photos make me a bit sad.

It's truly the last of them. I pulled the barren stalks from all the others, cut the long-since done flowering stems of my hostas, pulled out dead ferns. My cone flowers are in sad shape, begging to be cropped.  Soon a frost will drain the life out of the dahlias and black eyed susans... and it all makes me so very melancholy.

Of course it doesn't take much to make me melancholy. I come by it naturally. The passing of time, and troubles of life, and oh woe is me. If I don't watch out that's where I'll stay. I'm one of those people who needs many, many happy reminders.

• This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.
• Be joyful always.
• Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say, rejoice.
• Ask and you will receive that your joy may be full
• For the kingdom of God is not a matter of... peace, and joy...
• Hope brings joy
• Count it all joy...when trials come your way
• A joyful heart is good medicine

The beauty of nature reminds me to "go out with joy and be led forth in peace." That happy verse can set me to singing even on a difficult day! And if I just open my eyes and enjoy what's before me...yes the flowers will fade and the grass will die, but there's a new season coming with splendor all its own.

Beauty in the last lily of summer

 

The wonder of a colorful dragonfly

 

                                                    Another day to play in the pool with a little person!

 



There's much to enjoy, so much to rejoice in!

 

A friend's facebook post this week made me put melancholy aside and smile:

 

Everything will be okay in the end.

If it's not okay

it's not the end.

Building Bigger Barns

 

 Jesus said, “Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; life does not consist in an abundance of possessions.” from Luke 12:13-21

Then follows a parable. You know... the one about the farmer whose harvest was so plentiful there wasn't room in his barn to store it all. So he thought and he thought and he thought -- and I'm guessing it came to him in the middle of the night, "I know, I'll tear down my barn and build a bigger one!"

Brilliant?  --  No.

It should have occurred to him to give away his surplus and feed the hungry. 

Oh wait, that's the point of the story. That's what was supposed to occur to us. Jesus was telling a parable, a story in a story that could change the listener's life. It's a message to you and to me. Go ahead, take it personally -- and I will too. There is no denying my life is one of abundant excess -- not wretched excess, mind you, but abundant for sure. And here I am pondering my own generosity.  

Sadly, I find, I come up short.  Left to my own devices I'm not generous enough. But, I haven't begun to consider tearing down this old barn to build a bigger one. So that's a good thing, right? Right. Still, it's not good enough. This weighs heavily on me.

Tom is approaching retirement (16 months, 3 weeks and a day or two -- but who's counting?) and we are wondering what's next. This house and barn are too big, but it would be foolish to tear them down and build smaller. We could build a smaller house and repurpose this big one. It could go back to being the family summer home/hunting camp. It could be a retreat center, bed and breakfast (although there's not a lot of demand for that around here), an event venue...lots of possibilities.

The possibilities include us staying here and enjoying this home that has been renovated over the years with sweat, blood, happiness and tears. The upside of staying put is we could consolidate our living space, downsize without really downsizing, making this place more elder friendly and better suited for sharing with family and friends. 

Every decision we make becomes part of the story of our lives...sort of like one of those books where you get to choose your next adventure. I was going to say choose your own ending, but really no one gets to choose that. Even the rich man with the abundant harvest, he had no idea that his life would be required so soon. He built bigger barns, but never partook of the goods he stored up in them.

 "This is how it will be with whoever stores up things for themselves

 but is not rich toward God."

I hope in all my planning I won't be like the well-blessed farmer who was greedy. I know that life does not consist of the abundance of possessions. It consists in the abundance of intangible blessings: love, grace, mercy, and compassion. If I'm going to give something away, perhaps this is a good place to start. I can give what's been given to me so many times over: love, grace, mercy, and compassion. If one thing leads to another, and one act of kindness leads to the next, maybe I'll find myself being more generous in other ways too. So, yes, this is a good place to start.

Although it wasn't a decision made from the heart, we shared the abundance of our garden with Mrs. Rabbit and her children this summer. Clearly, allowing her to help herself came from neglect and stupidity rather than compassion and grace. But letting her, along with Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail, and Peter live? That was truly an act of mercy. 

It's a start.

What to Say?

Almost every Sunday (at least during the weeks of Pentecost) we sing As The Grains of Wheat

As the grains of wheat once scattered on the hill

 were gathered into one to become our bread;

So may all your people from all the ends of earth

be gathered into one in you.

 

It's a lovely tune, but the words are lovelier still...and quite profound. They are particularly relevant in these days of cultural wars around the globe, in our own country, within Christianity, between denominations, and amidst individual churches.

 

I'm concerned with one aspect of the culture war as it relates to faith, specifically the Christian faith: to borrow from Justin Lee's, Torn, I'm concerned about Rescuing the Gospel from the Gay vs. Christian debate. I saw a thought-provoking post on Facebook, it was just what I'd been thinking. It said something like, Perhaps God made gay Christians to test His followers, to see if they would obey His command to love one another.

 

That's what I think about when I sing, so may all your people from all the ends of earth be gathered into one in you. I think about scriptures that tell us we are one in Christ. I reflect on Galatians 3:27-29 for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.  There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.  If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.

 

Love one another is a command to those who claim Jesus as Lord and Savior. There is no distinction, no caveat that says you only have to love those who believe and act just like you do. Rather, speaking to Christians, the Bible clearly says, love one another...meaning all fellow believers.  That's not an option, and it's not an invitation to judge or pass judgment on who is or isn't a Christian. We're to leave the judging of others to God, and live our own lives in obedience. 

 

I'm trying to do that, and I'll admit it's easier said than done. I want to pass judgment on all who limit the grace of Jesus to only those who live and sin as they do. I'm working at not judging others who sin differently than I do. Because that's what it boils down to.  

 

I'm a believer and follower of Jesus. So are my Mennonite neighbors. I don't dress like them or live my life like they do, but they accept me as a fellow Christian. And I return that favor, because I love them. I don't prefer to follow their practices, and I don't need them to follow mine. We both believe in one God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth. We believe in Jesus Christ, his only son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried...

 

Or to put it more succinctly -- here are the words to the song Lord I Lift Your Name on High:

You came from heaven to earth to show the way

From the earth to the cross my debt to pay

From the cross to the grave, from the grave to the sky

Lord I lift your name on high.



 



But back to the creed: I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting. Amen

 

Anyone and everyone who believes the words to the Apostle's Creed is my brother, sister, loved one in Christ. How they dress, how they live, who they love, what denomination they belong to or doctrine they ascribe to is of no concern to me. It's between them and God, who judges all people rightly, because He alone sees the heart.

 

Whew, what a relief. I don't have to judge others. God's got it covered. I just have to love. And that's what I needed to work through. That's what I wanted to say -- for my own benefit.

All God's people...may the peace of Christ be with us, with them, and also with you.

 

Hummingbirds

Zzzzzzzzzz, zzzzzzzzt, zzzzzzzzt! It sounds like a wasp on steroids, but no, it's a hummingbird, one of the regular visitors to our front porch. Tiny creatures swoop in to sip nectar from the feeder even while we sit not 4 feet away on our porch swing. No fear...on either of our parts, which is not to say there isn't a startle factor, usually on my part.

Tom calls them the kids. They are demanding like two year olds. If their juice runs low they'll flit right up to Tom and hover beak to nose, letting him know about it. Talk about in your face! And even when the feeder is filled up some little critters are not eager to share. Apparently there's a pecking order. One vigilant ruby throated bird stands guard to chase away others who dare sneak in for a sip. I think he's trying to tell us we need another feeder or two.

To describe a hummingbird is an exercise in dichotomy -- they've got split personalities. Delicate yet bold, lovely but demanding, tiny, and by their diminutive size you'd assume, gentle, but no, they are really quite aggressive. We get a kick out of them. And it seems they are very smart. First thing this spring a hummingbird was buzzing me when I was out back. Odd. Later in the day when Tom was on the porch swing one of the little fellows zoomed in and hovered right at Tom's chest (might have been the red shirt) and then went up and perched on the metal bracket that held the feeder the previous summer. He repeated the motion, never touching Tom, but poking the air as if to say,

"Hello, I'm back. How about you go make some juice."

 

                                                                         "Oh yeah, that's what I'm talking about!"

 

And when we aren't feeding Tom's little tykes, their heavenly Father provides.

 

 

He's always watching out for them -- and us. Consider the birds and the lilies...

 

Luke 12:22-32

²² And He said to His disciples, “For this reason I say to you, do not worry about your life, as to what you will eat; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. ²³ For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing. ²⁴ Consider the ravens (and hummingbirds), for they neither sow nor reap; they have no storeroom nor barn, and yet God feeds them; how much more valuable you are than the birds! ²⁵ And which of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life’s span? ²⁶ If then you cannot do even a very little thing, why do you worry about other matters? ²⁷ Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; but I tell you, not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these. ²⁸ But if God so clothes the grass in the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, how much more will He clothe you? You men of little faith! ²⁹ And do not seek what you will eat and what you will drink, and do not keep worrying. ³⁰ For all these things the nations of the world eagerly seek; but your Father knows that you need these things. ³¹ But seek His kingdom, and these things will be added to you. ³² Do not be afraid, little flock, for your Father has chosen gladly to give you the kingdom. 

 

Good Morning World!

French Creek at Sunrise
(I missed it, I was sleeping.)

Okay, so it's not morning any more, but for me and other not-so-much morning people, close enough. I've always wanted to be a morning person and a writer. I want to be a writer who gets up in the morning and writes! Though it eludes me, I hold on to hope...I just came across this quote and I'm loving it. Perhaps it's the magic key.
"If you stuff yourself full of poems, essays, plays, stories, novels, films, comic strips, magazines, music, you automatically explode every morning like Old Faithful. I have never had a dry spell in my life, mainly because I feed myself well, to the point of bursting. I wake early and hear my morning voices leaping around in my head like jumping beans. I get out of bed to trap them before they escape." - Ray Bradbury

Finally -- here is the solution, the answer to my life long quest to be a morning person! All I have to do is stuff myself full of all those wonderful things by day and by night, and then boom -- I'm gonna be bounding out of bed in the morning to write prolific poignant prose, maybe even some poetry.

Will I head to the computer to capture all the brilliant thoughts jumping around in my mind before my morning coffee? No, I'll put the coffee on first, and swim, and do a little devotional of some sort, and shower and dress. While I'm at it I'll scrub the tub and gather laundry. If it's been a week or so I'll quick change the sheets on the bed. Oh, and I'll do my hair, which only takes five or so minutes, but if I let it dry on its own it gets wild and unruly. The phone will ring and I'll answer it and chat for a bit too long, but really, relationships with friends are part of my soul food, so that counts. By the time I've got the washing machine running -- mid-morning now -- I'll realize I'm starving. Make a quick bowl of oatmeal, check email, drip a second cup of coffee and call (another) friend, because who wants to sip coffee all alone? While on the phone I can empty the dishwasher, take a peek at Facebook and make a couple of moves on Words with Friends, switch washer to dryer and throw in another load.

Now where was I? Oh yes, on my way to write. I'll just fold those clean clothes, pick out some cards for overdue thank you notes and upcoming birthdays. I'm not going to write and send them, just put them on the table with unsorted mail to take care of later, making a mental note to buy a few belated cards, and fix a sandwich for lunch. With the mail, cards and folded clothes there's no room at the kitchen table for my laptop, lunch and cup of tea, so I'll move to the family room, fold a blanket, straighten the throw pillows and settle in to eat and -- to write.

Now what was it I was going to write about? It was something really good, I know it was really good, worthwhile, important -- but what was it? Good grief, I'll grab a book to replenish the muse, which I know full well will lead to nodding off -- but just for a quick power nap.

"Quick" is my recurring theme. And no matter how quick I do things the day keeps moving along and time gets away.  I really wanted to stuff my head and my life with poems, essays, plays, stories, novels, films, comic strips, magazines, and all that jazz. And then I wanted write about it, but time ran out...today. Oh well, there's always tomorrow. Maybe I'll get up to see the sunrise.