Mother Nature, you are no friend of mine! It's spring, dammit, and I don't like being cold. The dogs won't go outside in the rain unless I take them, and thunder makes poor Jay-Jay too nervous to pee anywhere but in the house, he's shaking like a leaf. Mama said there'd be days like this, rainy days and Mondays ...

Benji's been digging into our Irish ancestry and found that our Vance line was part of the Scottish resettlement of Northern Ireland. He sounded disappointed, maybe because they descended from barbaric Goths? Ah, but that explains a lot, m' lad.

Travel agent friend Ben sent my flight itinerary. Now if I can just get the birth certificate and passport in time, I'll be off. I was relieved to learn that the penalty for canceling is just $200, unless it's due to death or illness, I've heard people tell of forfeiting the whole amount. I'm actually feeling some excitement about this adventure.

The Beatles tribute band that Mike heard at the casino was unbelievably good, he said. I ordered their CD for him this morning. They're called Rain and they even had the British accent and the Beatle antics down pat. He enjoyed his trip with Ron, but said he would not want to extend it to a longer one. Seems his buddy obsesses about trivial things that get on Mike's nerves. Wasn't it the pot that called the kettle black?

This paragraph from today's devotional reminded me of yesterday's wallflower moment:

The Graduate won an Oscar for Anne Bancroft. Film critics said the actress gave a voice to the fear we all have: that we’ll reach a certain point in our lives, look around, and recognize that all the things we said we’d do and become will never come to be—and that we’re ordinary.

I've never felt more ordinary than I did at that moment. The shy, retiring side of me has always been satisfied to be ordinary, to sit on the sidelines, to be the wallflower. I'm usually very comfortable and content with that. What stung yesterday was that I wanted attention and didn't get any. The devotional goes on to say:

The Kingdom of God cannot be bought or won, but is hidden in the ordinary where, vulnerable at last, we finally are available to God as well as one another.

Maybe God was trying to get my attention, to remind me "it's not all about ME!" Usually reading back over my journal is all it takes to remind me how very ordinary I am.

I learned a new word this morning playing Scrabble - shrive (to hear the confession of and grant absolution to), and I made 32 points on it. Maven beat me badly, though, and took my average down a point. I hate when that happens. Shoulda stayed on the Pro level and not tried Master level.