His hair is a helmet.

::Episode #487 in the “Where’s Your Hall Pass?” chronicles::

Sunday at the church’s potluck lunch.

Joel (visiting missionary): How many children do you have?
Me: Three
Joel: And how old are they now?
Me: 25, 23, and 21
Joel: (pauses) No way!
Me: Way.
Joel: (grinning) You must have started having them when you were a baby.
Me: I was three.
Joel: Oh, well, that explains it.

::Supercalifragilistic::

This morning I carried the kitchen compost out to dump it in the plastic drum where George’s wriggling friends work their organic magic, converting garbage to rich, black soil. As I emptied the contents, I suddenly found myself channeling Julie Andrews. “Feed the worms, tuppence a bag . . .”

Please tell me you do this sort of thing. I don’t have the time or inclination to seek therapy. And now to far more important . . .

::Matters of the Heart::

I’m in Dallas right now. Tomorrow morning my parents, brother, sister, and I will head to the hospital at 5:00 AM, where a team of doctors will open my father’s chest and operate on his heart–a heart that has loved so many so beautifully for so long.

If you think of my daddy, please pray. Thank you.