Something to read as I work on my next novel.
I’m afraid I will have to begin this blog with a prayer of forgiveness.
Dear God, please forgive me for not being a better christian. For not loving you enough to want to see you sooner. I SHOULD eat chocolate cake and fried chicken so that I can begin my eternity with you in heaven WAY before I turn fifty. I apologize, God.
In Jesus’ name. Amen.
First, I hope you know that entire prayer was a joke. Second, yes, it has happened. I’m actually going to exercise.
There are few moments in life that measure the true level of our maturity. For some, it’s the moment the ice cream truck chimes it’s way down the street, or the sibling showdown for the last Oreo. For others, it’s the overwhelming temptation a rolled up towel becomes when they see a familiar derrière pass by.
For the members of my College And Career Sunday School Class, our moment was when we were brainstorming for activities and someone yelled out, “zoo!”
It was a guy. And he was 100% joking, thinking he was oh-so silly, which made him 100% surprised when the rest of us cheered. “YES!”
Friends, I have solemn news.
My. Macbook. *turns face away and sobs*
Wednesday, the trackpad decided to play peek-a-boo. The kind of I’m working now. PSYCHE! Nope. Still not working. Maybe… ha, tricked you again kind of peek-a-boo. And yesterday, my keyboard adopted the same disobedient behavior.
Ugh, teenagers. . .
After doing the typical WebMD Googling for Macbooks, trying to ignorantly fix the problem myself as we all try to do (don’t lie), I ended on the phone with a garbled man from Apple who had me poking keys and sitting in awkward silence. We ended the call with an appointment that day at the Apple Store.
I packed up my baby, and we headed out.
