I'm beat tonight. I'm not sure if it's the weather or just my body telling me to get to bed early, but every muscle in my body feels like it's sliding off my bones. I still have to finish my devotional reading for the night, and I have to read some more of 11/22/63.
The snow has finally stopped falling outside. It's been storming all day long. My daughter is hoping for a snow day tomorrow, and I don't have the heart to tell her it's not going to happen. There still may be wind howling through the trees, and Randy Jackson may be dawgin' some contestants, but I don't foresee any cancellations coming in the a.m.
I don't have much more to say tonight. My daughter wants me to braid her hair now. It's one of my favorite things to do. I've loved it ever since she was a little girl, her sitting in my lap after a bath, her hair thick and wet in my fingers as I pulled and wound.
Saint Marty's getting a little sentimental.
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| I'm not feeling it, dawg |
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