Sunday, March 10, 2024
Daylight Savings ended today. I slept through the sermon this morning and napped for over an hour this afternoon, so I guess I got my hour back.
The weather has been cool but sunny. Matt and a friend ventured deep into the spring house on our property and took pictures of the cave behind it. They want to explore more soon, but the water is ice cold.
Monday, March 18, 2024
Ray and I are in Hot Springs. We’re childcare for Waylon through Wednesday, and we leave on Thursday. We visited Mount Magazine Lodge on our way here. It’s the highest point in Arkansas and has a spectacular view. The weather was cool and clear—perfect for viewing.
We’re staying in a cute little Air B&B near Bathhouse Row. The Hot Springs Alligator Farm is on our block. On the Ridge, we have to worry about tigers, and here it’s gators. We live for danger.
Sunday, March 24, 2024
Ray and I are back on the ridge. We celebrated our 38th wedding anniversary on Friday by going to the Dewey Short Visitors Center and Table Rock Dam Museum and eating at a restaurant on the lake called The Lake House.
We’ve been watching the Jesse Stone mysteries. I think we’ve almost seen them all.
The weather has been nice, but a little cool and the trees are blooming. My outside plants are still in the garage. I wonder if it’s safe to put them out yet.
I’m entering a few stories in Springfield Writers’ Guild’s Spring Contests. And I’m very excited to meet children’s author David L. Harrison at the Ozark Writers’ League Conference next month. He’s the keynote speaker. I plan to ask him to sign a book for Waylon.
Wednesday, March 27, 2024
A cargo ship lost power and steering control on the Patapsco River in Baltimore, Maryland. The crew issued a mayday call before crashing into the Frances Scott Key Bridge. The bridge collapsed and six people are still missing and presumed dead. The cause of the crash and horrific destruction are under investigation.
Sunday, March 31, 2024
Today was Easter Sunday. I think our bodies somehow know and remember seasonal cycles. I haven’t participated in an Easter (or Christmas) choir production in years. Our current church doesn’t even have a choir. But I dreamed about singing in one last night. In my dream, I was supposed to leave the choir and help with skits, but I didn’t know it and people were giving me dirty looks—in Christian love, of course. And I’d follow my group late because I had no idea what to do. When I woke up, my shirt was sweaty and I was panicky. It was ten minutes before my alarm was scheduled to chime, so I just got up.
Yesterday, I’d considered writing something for a local Christian Community Theater. Maybe that sparked my dream.
Today was overcast, but warm. This week’s supposed to be nice.