conjectural navel gazing; jesus in lint form

monday

I am blogging before I leave work. I have a couple of minutes to sit back and relax a little before things go haywire (translation: rush hour) and I start screaming at the poor people in the cars around me. The only comfort I find in rush hour is that it is a culturally accepted oxymoron. It is neither rushed nor an hour. It is tediously slow and lasts about four hours. Somehow that is humerous and I find it comforting.

***

There is this guy names Sergio who sells newspapers at the intersection of Lincoln and Peterson in the city. He is kind, always has something pleasant to say and recognises my car when I pull up. I try to buy my newspapers from him. It is a joy. What does one purchase for such a fellow at Christmas?

***

I have one or two more gifts to purchase. I am not particularly good this year. I don't know why. Lazy? Uncharitable? Perhaps. More than likely it is because I have yet to realize that Christmas is this weekend. It is such the BIG DEAL NON HOLIDAY for me this year. I cannot seem to find Jesus in the midst of the hubub, and when I do stumble upon the manger, it feels quite unseemly to set up all those lights when Jesus is trying to sleep. Never wake a sleeping baby. That may be even more true if that baby has Vast Cosmic Powers.

***

I am counting down the seconds before I am through on the fourth floor surgical unit. On January third I will begin working in Critical Care. More than likely, I will work in a couple of the ICU's. I will miss Four East tremendously. They are all so dear to me.

***

There is a heated conversation at the Reconciler site. Very cool.

***
Trish and I are attending a party this evening at a new friend's house. His name is Kevin. He is a musician and is in Cinderella with Trish. It is to be a carrol sing. Excellent. I have not had enough carroling in years. I wonder if there are enough good singers that we can do some of the more complicated stuff. That would be nice.

***

My headache is starting to go away. This is good as well.

And that is all the news that is fit to print. Nevermind the Post, Times, Tribune, Dispatch, Trumpet, Strumpet, Gazette, Daily, Herald and all that other stuff. This is the news people. Everything else is, well, everything else.

We are so very postmodern, aren't we?

Posted by tripp at December 20, 2004 04:52 PM