stop the presses

Okay, this is reader's remorse. The Other Woman died at about page oh who cares. All of a sudden it was all about her friends and then it was about how two of them didn't like the other one's boyfriend, then everyone is having affairs...I swear, the last chapter is good, but it doesn't belong to the rest of the book.

My car passed inspection. And I am in a rotten mood. (I was in one, got out the book to appease it, and it got worse.) If I could change the color scheme of the blog to black for this post alone, I would. The sky is gorgeous--a sunset that is pink the color of flamingos is blazing outside my window. I have to do something to get out of this funk.

(elapsed time)

The sky is bluer now, with gray (grey?) streaks.

Well, the movies rarely disappoint, and if I fall asleep in front of the box, it won't be the first time. So, Meg Ryan, your cue. Tom Hanks, grab your coat. The curtains will be up soon, and You've Got Mail.

Walk over to the VCR. Put in the tape. Let the previews roll....You know, I just remembered. I was going to do laundry tonight. Yes, that is something pro-active I can do.

No longer will they call you Deserted. They will be called the Holy People, the Redeemed of the Lord; and you will be called Sought After. Isaiah 62: 4, 12