Sundays are the days I weigh in. In the morning, I go to the bathroom, relieve myself of any excess weight that I can (if you understand what I mean). Then, I strip down and step on the scale. Some Sundays, I end up swearing at the scale for a few minutes, calling it a lying, hypocritical communist bastard. Other Sunday mornings, I am pleased with the results. Today, the scale and I are on friendly terms. I'm not going to be taking it out for ice cream sundaes tonight, but at least I'm not going to make it sleep on the front porch.
Not a lot to blog about. Church this morning. The praise band in which I play got recognition today. Each member of the band received a special certificate. That was nice. Not that we play in the band for recognition, but it's always good to know that your work is welcome and appreciated. (Yes, that was a subtle hint for all readers of my blog who aren't official disciples to become followers. Or at least post a comment. Even saints get lonely.)
Well, dinner is almost on the table. Deep-fried turkey with all the fixings. Mashed potatoes. Stuffing. Corn. I apologize to any of my readers who are vegan. (Yup, that means you, Wondertwin.) Have a great sabbath, everybody.
Saint Marty has to de-bone a turkey now.
Confessions of Saint Marty