Nothing witty, poignant, funny or serious is bubbling inside.
The girls are sleeping, the dogs lay at Sarah's bedside, the cat is curled up with Maddie and the Hermit Crab is relocating to another painted shell.
Birds loudly sing outside with an Ocean breeze dancing in the Palms.
I'm trying to get inspired but it ain't happening.
In a while I'll head off to Bar Church where, unless God's made other plans and forgot to tell me, I'm soloing today.
I've soloed at Bar Church once before and it was fun but I don't really want to do it again.
It's more fun to play with others than to play with yourself.
If God wasn't involved, I'd skip today but ... I don't think it's a good idea to piss God off ... so I'm going.
I loaded the unreliable sound system in the car last night, my guitar's packed, there's a couple of tunes in my head and I have a vague notion of what I want to say.
There's not a lot of scripted stuff at Bar Church.
The attitude is leave the planning to God because, Heaven knows, none of the plans we made have ever worked out that way.
What I'd rather do today is find a quiet little Beachside Café with a sand floor and read the New York Times with Sarah, drinking Bloody Mary's and watching the sun sprinkle diamonds on Aqua-Green Ocean.
But I got to go to Church.
It sucks.
I know ... you're not supposed to say things like that!
Honestly I don't think God cares but a Hell of a lot of people get riled up over such things.
Alright, I'm putting my Jesus face on and heading out because I'm a huge fan.
Right after I make Cinnamon Rolls for my girls.
