blueberries and Copeland.

I'm not sure if I ought to write in the mornings, with my morning thoughts being as they are. I woke up this morning with 50 Cent's "In Da Club" playing in my head. I'm not a fan, nor have I listened to that song recently. Madonna was in my dream last night, as was a grizzly bear cub puppet. I don't know, but my mind sure is something.
Anyhow, it is Friday and I have no classes. I'll go to chapel and lunch and most likely read for class until four when we're leaving for Karen's. I'm so excited for the home-cooked Indiana meal I'm having tonight. You know what, even if they order Papa Johns, I'll be supremely satisfied. My lunch in Chuck's yesterday consisted of a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and some chips. I was so starving by mid-afternoon that I sat in here and ate a king-sized Snickers bar - which, FYI, is actually three servings, not one. Ugh. I called home yesterday and talked to Mom while she made blueberry pancakes and grilled sausage for dinner. Back in July Chen had brought us fifteen pounds of fresh-picked blueberries and Mom and I had spent much of one afternoon canning and bagging and freezing blueberries. Everyone in the office deeply loved me for awhile, because I never came to work without some kind of blueberry dessert still warm from the oven. Sigh. I would have given my left arm yesterday to have been home for dinner. Tis life.
I have a job interview tomorrow afternoon :o) An answer to the prayers I have been lax in asking. My spiritual life is in the pits. I am being honest. And yet He never fails to remind me that He's still watching out for me.
I mailed two letters the other day. One to Colorado, one to Minnesota. I smile when I think of how less than two weeks ago the three of us were together in one room in Eastern PA, casual and smiling, and now we've been unmoored and washed all over the country, hundreds of miles and a handful of months separating us. It's a funny thing how different lives can be, and sometimes I want nothing more than for all of us to share the exact same moments. It's not a wise wish, and it's purely selfish, but when my moments are so colored with happiness I can't help but long for those I love to feel the same and to be with me.
Other news? I haven't the time. My hair's still wet and I'm still in my pajamas and I have to leave for chapel in half an hour. But I am glad I sat down and wrote, and put Copeland on. Copeland fell into my lap this summer, in the form of a burned disc left behind by some camper. It makes me think of Julia, the person with the best musical taste of anyone I have ever met, and our drive back from RI this time last Friday. Copeland is thoughtful music. And it pushed 50 Cent right out of my head :o)

Au revoir, loves.