Guest Blogger?

Infurriated Squirrel - my wife, Mrs. B. - will be guest blogging here from time to time.

This past weekend, my in-laws very graciously hosted our daughter at their house overnight. If you have a kid you know what kind of treat this can be for parents. We enjoyed our grinders at the dinner table together and we heard no shouting. We finished sentences. We asked questions, listened to answers, and asked follow up questions of each other. All without a small person shouting at us or dumping the salt shaker on the ground. It was very fine. We're going to attempt to keep that vibe going here.

A church

(A visit from guest blogging person, I. Squirrel, aka Mrs. B) I dreamed last night about going to church (I spent a good portion of the evening looking at the website of a local Episcopal church) I liked the church in my dream because it was decorated by "William Mackintosh" (A dream hybrid of William Morris and Charles Rennie Mackintosh I think). One thing I know about William Morris is that he was a big proponent of posessing things that are useful and beautiful. An important sentiment.

I want to find a church. Our kid(s) needs to have some kind of religious education. If we are going to celebrate holidays like Christmas and Easter (which we are) we need to have some kind of spiritual basis otherwise it is just awful. Should we try the Episcopal Church downtown? I liked everything that I read on their website (I know that sounds incredibly cheesey but hey how else do we screen things these days?) I know I have said that the Jesus-ness of a church like Episcopalian has made me a little woozy but I realize that the thought of continuing through life especially life as a parent without some kind of religious grounding makes me woozy too.

Here's another question for you: Is there anyone in the world right now who wishes they could trade places with Pres Obama? Sarah Palin might be making noises about it but seriously....Ugh! When is he going to be featured on "Dirty Jobs"?

Dream about PEN

I dreamt that I was walking down an incline through a shiny new UW campus building. I walked by a center of PEN housed in the campus building. On the TV there was a story about PEN Center USA in Los Angeles. The story was that PEN Center USA had taken in a group of refugees. It was all very heroic and I felt proud by association, and I let everyone know that I had worked there in the past. At the same time I knew that I had nothing to do with the heroism.