We had turkey sausage patties on Portuguese sweet rolls this morning for breakfast, and ham salad and Swiss on rye for lunch. Well, I had Swiss. Robert had his cheeseless.
We supplemented the sandwiches with raw baby carrots with some Thousand Island dressing for a dip.
After lunch, and in the middle of listening to "Kubuku Rides (This Is It)" by Larry Brown, read by Myra Lucretia Taylor, my phone rang.
"Hello. It's dad. I'm home!"
Great, great news. And I think that's the first time my father has ever called me. My mom always calls first and near the end of the conversation inevitably says, "Let me let you talk to your father."
I began work on a research paper about the use of Twitter at the UNC CAUSE 2008 conference. Most of my time was spent categorizing my data points.
On the way to Flex at about 7:30 to "catch the early crowd," I was listening to a Christmas carol—It Came Upon a Midnight Clear—when all of a sudden I heard, well at least thought I heard, the sound of the letter "p" on the end of a word in the lyrics that I have been singing for 51 years now as a "t."
|From angels bending near the earth,|
To touch their harps of gold
Harps? Harps? I thought it was hearts. Hearts of gold! That just rocked my world. I prefer my version—metaphorical gold of the heart, as opposed to the literal gold of a harp. But I digress...