I’ve gotten my groove back a bit today despite not having a diagnosis for my hives. I am alive. My life is mostly good except for this silly itching  which if I distract myself I don’t notice too much. Eileen left for Whitehall this morning. She is up there helping out.

I promised her I would straighten up the house a bit and vacuum. This I have done. I also spent a few hours transcribing a silly song for our Stewardship musical. Rev Jen promises me this is the last year I will have to do it. I am skeptical.

Here’s the song I have been spending so much time with.

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Nice, eh?

When I complained about having to do this, Rev Jen said the church would pay me extra for it. I told her that was not the point. It’s just a pain in the ass. But now it’s done.

I mailed some packages to England today. I’m relaying stuff to my daughter her significant other. Sometimes they need someone state side to receive and pass on cargo from dealers who won’t maill overseas.

I stopped by the library. I am enjoying the library immensely these days.

When I got up this morning I found the above book in a package on my front steps. Not a bad way to start the day. Plus Eileen and I are eating very well due to all the fresh fruit and cheese and veggies we have been getting at the Farmers Market.

I walked buy diazepam 2mg online over to pick up our car which was at O.K. Tires getting its air conditioning fixed. On the way, I managed to trip and fall. Sheesh. Nothing damaged except my pride.

I’ve been plugging away, reading Alan Jacob’s The Year of Our Lord 1943. I was tickled to read that Arthur C. Clarke as a young man reached out to C. S. Lewis. He was critical of some stuff in Lewis’s novel, Perelandra.

Clarke wrote to Lewis objecting to a specific passage in which Lewis evidences some cynicism about humankind’s ability to resist doing terrible things especially with technology.

Clarke wrote: “The whole passage [concerned] seems to be an outburst of unreason and  emotional panic rather surprising after the acute penetration of The Screwtape Letters.”  I liked that Alan Jacobs spent a few pages describing Clarke’s novel that he published ten years after his exchange with Lewis, Childhood’s End. Apparently, Lewis was quite taken with it. It makes sense that Lewis would be a reader of science fiction, I just hadn’t thought of it before.

Lewis wrote to the woman who later become his wife and exclaimed regarding this book: “IT’S A REAL CORKER.” I like that story and Clarke’s book sounds like one I would like to read.

I just checked and I don’t have a copy on the shelves (I love having my books in order). I have quite a few titles by Clarke, but not that one.

Well, it’s been kind of long day today. Time to relax.