I have to admit that I don't really like my last post. It could have been twice as good, in half the time. I didn't spend any good time on it, and hence I didn't really say what I was aiming at. Also, I couldn't find the one book (I'm pretty sure its in the library at home in CA - same room that serves as my bedroom when I'm home for a visit) that had some good points that I was trying to get at in the first place. One point in particular that I would like to remedy: while I say I've never felt a guiding hand or whispering voice, I would be remiss were I not to point out that I do believe that the Spirit does work in mysterious ways to (mysteriously) lead and guide me. Because of the mysterious part, its not that easy to explain. Let's leave it at now for that.

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.

There's been a lot to balance in the brain this week, and so I'm up late and getting stuff done, but none of it well, because I'm in another one of those phases where I'm actually getting tired at night (instead of in the middle of the day) and, of course, this is annoying. Seems like as soon as I get the hang of being up all night, I get too tired for it again.

I haven't gotten anything decent noted out on the new book idea, however, and I don't see that happening tonight, as I was racking the brain in a vicious game of Trivial Pursuit with C&M, George, and Moody, instead of having Home Fellowship Group. I think we lacked quorum and proceeded accordingly, or something.

Instead, I'm thinking pizza and a movie. I haven't been hitting the Netflix very hard lately, for various reasons, but I can say this much - Man on Fire is just as good the second time around (Reznor did an awesome job with the soundtrack, and the cinematography/editing is outstanding enough to shame even the classic-arid-Mexican feel in greats like Traffic). Also The Truth About Charlie is terrible and basically unbearable, and also horrible. There's not many Netflix I send back unfinished. This will be one of them.

Christian Carnival is up again, this week at Wallo World. I hope next week to have a better post to submit. If the 30-hour-famine with the kids this weekend doesn't suck all my writing juices dry. I also hope to perhaps host CC one of these days, but I have no idea when I'd find that kind of time. Maybe when I'm on vacation, the week before Easter. I need to find out if our place will have net access. I could survive without it, after all - I will have skiing - 5 days of bliss. But it would be nice to have, all the same.

I can not wait for Whistler. I need it. I feel it pulling at me. What precious few dreams I have are usually about what I will do when I am on that mountain. I have anxiety attacks in the middle of the day about whether there will be decent enough off-piste pack left when I get there to legitimize some hike-in/out to their newly opened bowls. I've even been checking on my insurance to make sure that I'm going to be cool should I need to see the inside of a hospital up in Canadia. But I need an off-season from head bumps as I had a decent one last season, and so far I've been safe this year. Thanks to the one measly day I've managed to get myself on sticks. I hang my (bump-ed) head in shame.

Also, the Fed-ex did not arrive today. Argh.