I don't know ...
... what I do when I'm sleeping but, for the last week or so when I wake up my blankets are either on the floor or in a ball at the end of the bed. Maybe I'm having hot flashes that aren't waking me up.
Anyway, I've been praying a lot lately. Although I go to Mass almost every week, I still consider myself a lapsed Catholic. That's probably because I don't believe in a lot of the church's teachings. However, praying to saints (Saint Theresa and Saint Anne, specifically) has made me feel better. I also do some talking to God. Not actual praying. Just talking. Shell's dad told us this story once about a man who said he never really learned how to pray. Bill, Shell's dad, said "Did you talk to your father?" The man said he did. Bill said "Talk to God the way you would talk to your father." So, that's what I do. I pretty much just ask Him and all the angels and saints to help me get my life in order.
Remember at Christmastime when my little nephew told his mom I'm "da bomb?" Well, apparently, I'm not all that after all. The birthday card I sent him had Bear in the Big Blue House on it but, that's not why I picked that one. I picked it because it was the cutest card with a "4" on it. So, he got it in the mail, opened it and said "It's from Bear in the Big Blue House!" My sister said, "No, that's what the picture is but the card is from Aunt Anne." He said "Oh." But he was excited about the "dollar" that was in it. And, no, I'm not that cheap. It was more than a dollar. But he's four. They're all dollars, no matter what the number on it says.
Work sucks. No explanation. I just needed to say that.
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