It's just a cold. Not the flu. Whew.
Wasn't feeling too well yesterday. Woke up with a little sore throat and a stuffed up nose this morning, but nothing worse.
Got some coffee and put myself and the pup on the treadmill. On the treadmill, I've been reading SARK's Bodacious Book of Succulence". About living with fear and loneliness and feelings you don't know what to do with. This struck me this morning--"Nothng is coming. All I can do is breathe and wait"---Sark's friend, Miriam.

Another friend of hers, Larry, had this to say,"Why are you measuring how you feel by what you think you are not getting?"

I have to work again today. It is a special sacramental day for the students I teach...and for their families. Then I am off to the Field to enjoy Thanksgiving tonight with my Family of Choice in Grays Harbor County. And to walk with Porter on some beaver-damned embellished lonely logging roads and to play sheltie ball in the lower garden now that most everything has been gathered in.

Last night, another miracle was checked off my list. I experienced the 1742 version of Handel's Messiah live--with baroque replica instruments and bows, with the number and type of choir he chose to have in Dublin, with the energy and styling that was alive in his work and not the prominent French stylings of the time which are present in most current orchestral presentations of Messiah. It was filling. It was sublime. It was Prayer. It was Healing. It was God smiling in all of us and Jesus with His Arm up and fist alight, pulling down in the air saying "YESSS!!!!!". And to have the Scriptural text there while the choir was going. Oh, I want to listen again here in my home or on a roadtrip in the same clear, simplified, perfect expression. Wow.

There is so much confusion around. And then there is Handel.