Well, not exactly. But sort of. I finished the Steiner book I was reading a couple of days ago, and that left me in one of those places where I had nothing to read. Well, I had things to read, but I didn’t have anything I knew I wanted to read, and I didn’t know…

Okay, I don’t know what that means. It’s January 2nd, which is Matt’s birthday.  And January 1st would have been my wedding anniversary if Bill were still alive.  I still think of it as my wedding anniversary. Then, a couple of days before the New Year, two good friends of mine who have been married…

It’s New Year’s Eve, and if I wanted to really get started, I’d have a lot to say.  I don’t know if any of you would find it interesting–it would be, largely, about the state of my own life–but it’s building up in here somewhere and I figure I’ll have to do something about it…

Sorry for the spottiness of the posts lately.  I’ve had my scheduled derailed by snow. It’s mostly somebody else’s snow, mind you, but that doesn’t seem to matter much. For the run up to the new year–ten years since 9/11?  really?–I thought I’d say a little something about something almost everybody thinks they know something…

Well, okay, not quite. I just had something of a miserable, frustrating day yesterday. It was Christmas Day, so, of course, nothing was open anywhere that might be useful–like, for instance, repair shops.  And that wouldn’t have mattered, except that the oven here went out of whack and wouldn’t get hot enough to do anything…

Yesterday, Joel posted a link to a web site about C.S. Lewis and the idea of a common, underlying shared morality across time and traditions. And that’s where I want to get to, because it’s the next point in this argument. But before I start that, I want to make a couple of things perfectly…

Let me start out by saying that I more that half-agree with Mike Fisher’s comment on the post a couple of days ago–We’d Have Had To Invent It–“design” is a word with a lot of baggage, virtually none of it intended by what I was trying to get across with all that. In the post…

Before I let myself get going here, I’d like to make one point. Yesterday, I tried very hard to say “detective novel” and not “mystery novel” at every possible instance, because I wasn’t talking about the “mystery,” but specifically about the sort of thing written by Conan Doyle and Agatha Christie. There is a lot…

I’m getting to the post earlier today, which may keep me less disorganized than I’ve been lately. I tend to be better in the mornings. And I’m also in a pretty good mood, because I’ve just come from an hour of reading and listening to Hildegarde herself, on the Anonymous 4 album called The Origins…

Or something. I like to sound more exciting than I actually am. Robert says that what I was talking about yesterday wasn’t sex, but love, and Cheryl says that you can’t separate the two, and I say… Well, I say, first, that we talk about sex and love these days the way we talk about…