For me, the big looming thing in my mind is how close now my writing retreat is. Less than two weeks and I’ll be on a train to Seattle. I haven’t even tried to work on my book during the time Cris has been gone. If I weren’t going on the retreat, I’m sure I would be pressing harder, but franly I’ve been pretty lazy. Since coming back from Phoenix all I’ve done is work on the newsletter, read, and go to church. And I went to see Laurel Canyon. It was enjoyable except for the excessive focus on the young couple, especially on the boy doctor's flirtation with a colleague. I actually got up and went to the bathroom during one of their scenes; they had about as much chemistry as an eggplant and a house plant. By contrast, whenever Francis McDormand was on the screen, I was riveted. It’s extraordinary just to watch her face.

I went over to St. Gregory's to help them clean up from their Easter fiesta. They throw such a big shindig that they leave the whole church a mess from Saturday night to Monday. (They don't have an Easter service on Sunday morning -- just the vigil service on Saturday night. Daring!) So there are streamers, empty champagne bottles, little plates full of Chex Mix, discarded programs everywhere -- it's like the aftermath of any huge party. Along with a dozen other people, I spent about two hours putting the place in order, and felt very virtuous afterward -- as it's not my church, I just go there for morning prayer. I thought I ought to do something out of gratitude for the morning prayer service. How many places, outside monasteries, can you go and have sung morning prayer every weekday morning?