Last night, my daughter didn't spend the night out at the trailer with her visiting cousins as she has been recently. She was feeling sick to her stomach, so she came home. I made her take a cool bath, gave her ice cream, and watched The Lawrence Welk show with her. Before you say I was subjecting her to cruel and unusual punishment, I wasn't. She enjoys watching Lawrence Welk with us. Really. Our Saturday nights wouldn't be complete without our weekly dose of champagne music.
Turns out my daughter wasn't really sick. She just got pushed on the merrygoround at the playground one too many times. She was fine this morning.
Sunday worship this morning. Our band played some great music. Currently, it's raining, which may screw up a lot of barbecue plans today. Since I don't care for the taste of barbecue sauce, this weather has not dampened my spirits one iota. This evening, my brother is deep-frying a capon for dinner. Until a couple weeks ago, I had no idea what a capon really was, except that it belonged to the poultry family. I now know that a capon is a newtered rooster. And it tastes just like chicken.
Nothing else to report. I'm looking forward to dinner and a quiet, uneventful evening. No stress. Just capon. Corn. Brussel sprouts. Mashed potatoes.
Saint Marty is kickin' back.
Confessions of Saint Marty
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