I know. It’s been a week. Even when I had my tonsils out I continued to blog. But apparently when I live in another first world country, I can’t fit it into my schedule. [That’s not truly the reason.] Here’s the thing. I’m processing so many things. I feel like the dryer of my soul
1. How much do you love Annie Parsons? I. KNOW. Me too. 2. I leave for Scotland in exactly 2 weeks. People keep asking me if I have a list of what to pack or a long list of things to complete before I go. And I keep saying no. Which is concerning. If other
In exactly 30 days, I land in Scotland for a four week adventure that I have anticipated, on some deep-in-my-knower levels, since 2000. I don’t even know how to talk about it. I have so many questions for God. I hope Scotland holds those answers. Maybe not the place itself, but the time. The distance.
What I’m [sure is the weirdest post title ever] = this one. What I’m [reading] = The Fiddler’s Gun by Pete Peterson. I’m 1/2 of the way through and I’ll give it a B-. Don’t buy it yet, unless you have a Kindle. Then it’s only $2. TWO AMERICAN DOLLARS. Get it. What I’m [also