I'm just back from a weekend in the Big City. This picture does not do justice to the City or to the driving experience. However, any time the driving experience was exciting, I was avoiding looking at it.

We started our weekend on Friday night with the symphony. #1 son liked the Haydn the best -- it was clean, he said.

Saturday we went to a non-profit job fair, which was quite fun and enlightening, and #2 daughter picked up a few applications.

Actually, I went to the website of one of the most interesting places -- a music museum -- and saw right away a bunch of things they could do if they wanted to apply The Dark Art to better effect. I even sent them a brief report on the subject. Since I don't live there, I guess I don't have to worry that they might be offended. Unless they remember #2 daughter when she applies as "the one with the crazy

 mother." I didn't use expressions like "viral link juice" though, so it may be okay.

When I checked my stats this morning, I find that the main website languished while I was away. It doesn't make sense to me that my failing to mess with it for four days (illness and then a long weekend) should cause people in other parts of the world to quit visiting. "Ah, I see that no one has been plying the Dark Art today at that website; I guess I'll go to Lakeshore instead." Nope, can't see that. Must be coincidence. We do have twice as many orders for the month of March as we had for March last year. And I will mess with it today.

Next was homemade lasagna and conversation at M. Bassoon's, and then we had a cooking show party. The next day we went to church, then to brunch with an aunt, and then we came home. All those things were very enjoyable, and if they hadn't all happened in the same 24 hours, I would probably have lots more to say about them. Maybe I will in the future.

Now it is back to the salt mines. Actually, I'm going to lunch with Janalisa today. It is in my zip code, and is in the nature of research for my myzip site, but it does mean that I need to get lots of messing around with the websites done this morning.

I read both the mysteries that I took along during the drive, and put a few inches onto the prayer shawl. I am therefore still reading The Science of the Discworld III: Darwin's Watch. I had assumed that the title would refer to the old "watchmaker" argument, and it does, but the authors have also taken the opportunity to write about the nature of time, and therefore of space. In particular, they are (at the point where I am reading) looking in depth at the idea of time travel and of alternate universes, counterfactual histories, etc.

I've mentioned before the Big Idea that all possible universes actually exist. That is, if you chose to drink coffee this morning, then that decision caused a branching in the spacetime continuum so that there is also a universe in which you drink tea. People who are really enthusiastic about this idea are not actually thinking about tea and coffee universes, but about universes in which there are different numbers of dimensions, or in which Newton's laws really cover all observable reality. They believe this because of mathematics. This puts the idea entirely in the realm of faith. The authors of Darwin's Watch, not being men of faith, ascribe it to wishful thinking rather than faith, but it is, along with God, one of the Big Ideas that allows us to explain the otherwise inexplicable bits of the universe.

The idea is so fun that it has lots of devotees, especially in fiction. Darwin's Watch neatly destroys it as a scientific hypothesis, being as there is absolutely no evidence for it in the real world, but it certainly is a fun idea. Especially in fiction. It has reminded me of some of the fun time travel books I've read in the past. Someone goes back in time and makes changes. When they return to the present, either everything is different and no one but the time traveler realizes that it is All His Fault, or everything is the same and the time traveler realizes that the eventual outcome is inevitable. If well-written, such books usually manage to slip in some irony or epiphanies or other good literary stuff.

But do you ever think about that in your own life? Is it the case that God has a plan for you, and all you need do is strive to be obedient to God's will? Or that it doesn't matter in the least what you do, because all the possible outcomes of all the possible actions you might take are simultaneously working themselves out along the various pantlegs of the Trousers of Time? Or that you are the Captain of Your Fate and the Master of Your Soul (or vice versa; I forget) and every little thing you do has consequences for you and everyone around you?

And how does the speed of light come into it?

I'm on #2 daughter's laptop this morning, trying to be quiet and not wake anyone. When I wake in a strange place, I just want to get up and find a cup of tea, which I have been able to do, and then I can wait patiently for the other people, who never get up as early as I do. If there is a computer handy, I can amuse myself for a little while.
Not that I got up all that early today. We went to the symphony last night. The drive up was uneventful, and I said as much to M. Bassoon when he asked.
"She's not telling you why it was uneventful for her," said #2 son, the rotter. "It's because she sat in the back reading, and never looked out the windows."
This is true. It's a good method. If money were no object, I could recommend darkened windows and a driver to anyone with my condition. It only works in daily life when there is someone to drive and someone to sit by the driver, though, because otherwise it just seems rude.
We were standing in a parking lot when we had that conversation.We had listened to a lovely Haydn piece, a dramatic Berg one, and then some Wagner, and Wagner was always very grand. Still is, for that matter.
The usher who seated us (we needed help because we were up in the rafters where the sound hangs out, and they sold us a ticket for a seat that didn't exist. They adjust the numbers for the shrinking of the rows, and one of our seats disappeared in the process.) muttered something about people not caring to hear Wagner on a Friday night, as though perhaps Friday night was too low-key for Wagner. You'd really want to save it for Saturday, maybe?
I don't know. It was a set of excerpts from The Ring, and the soprano was really something. She had a glittering band under her bosom, and it rose about six inches on the high notes, an indication of the athleticism of singing that stuff. The part of Brunhilde is not easy to sing, and it is not easy to sing as one of a hundred or so instruments in an orchestra, especially if they are playing Wagner at the time. She got a standing ovation, and deserved it, too.
The conductor, a visiting one from Israel, was a pleasure to watch. He conducted with his whole body, and on the Haydn without bothering with the score at all. I thought that the Haydn in particular was done with such delicacy and sweetness that M. Bassoon would surely be satisfied with the performance, but apprently not.
I know myself that performers do not hear the same thing that the audience does, and are less likely to be happy with the performance, but really it was beautifully played.
I said so to M. Bassoon, and he told me that it wasn't the playing so much as the silences that were the problem.
"Drat that fourth dimension," I commiserated.
It was lovely, though. And I bet the horns were so excited about getting to play Wagner. Everybody is important in Wagner, of course, but you can tell he really loved horns.
It is possible that I have been reading too much about quantum mechanics. And maybe spending too much time on computers, too. Last night, I dreamt that everything  I dreamt would be real unless I selected "dream" before dreaming it. In consequence, and what with not having a "dream" key handy, I didn't sleep very well. I am going to see if I can score another cuppa.

You have to be impressed by the ability of the body to heal itself. I cut myself two weeks ago. It was one of those cuts that leaves a great big hole, but I closed it up with climbing tape, and it just grew back together like it was nothing. Wednesday night it seemed completely plausible that I might be dying, but today here I am, practically all better.

I even made dinner last night. You can make this too, some time when you need something quick and easy but reasonably healthy.

Cook some pasta (this is "Neptune's Favorite." a really pretty multicolored and many-shaped mixture from the local health food store). Meanwhile, make a packet of Knorr's Four Cheese Sauce. And while those things are cooking, you can take your Food Chopper and chop up your leftover Easter ham and some vegetables. We have green onions and broccoli, here, but tomatoes and carrots would be good, too, and onions, and peas, and what the heck, jicama and turnips, too. Whatever you have handy.

Mix it all together and put it into your casserole dish. Grate some good Parmesan cheese over the top and bake it for 20 minutes. Serve it with salad from a bag, and you will have dinner on the table even if you are not feeling your best.

I wasn't up to finding a good zombie knitting project for the car. Fortunately, I remembered that I already had one: this aggressively pink prayer shawl which has been sitting around for months waiting for me to get to it.

I've written about the Prayer Shawl Ministry before, but you can click on the name if you want more information.

I am also taking along a ball of Sugar'n'Cream and the instructions for that old-fashioned discloth made point to point. The divine Mrs. M gave me the directions for it a year ago and I have never gotten around to making one. Maybe this time I will.

I finished The Science of Discworld (earth science) and reread The Science of Discworld II: The Globe (human beings), and got a start on The Science of Discworld III: Darwin's Watch (evolution). Nothing new, but what a great way to retell it! I guess when we read fiction we don't insist that there be something new every time.

I am also taking along a couple of mysteries by Cathy Pickens. My husband has already announced tht he is going to have #2 son do quite a bit of the driving on this weekend's road trip, so I think I will sit in the back, with my books and my knitting, and pretend I am not in a car at all.

I am very glad that I don't have to do the driving, of course. However, that also means that we are not leaving until noon. I like to leave around 6:00 a.m., so that I don't have much time for anticipatory anxiety. (If you are confused, you could read the stuff in the "agoraphobia" tag over there on the left.)

However, I slept well last night, a rare feat when I know I have to be on freeways the next day, and the ladies of my church are praying for me to have a peaceful journey.

I'm looking forward to it.

I may or may not be able to get to a computer while I am away, so I will wish you all a pleasant weekend right now!

Yesterday I was having stomach cramps. I whined about it to Chanthaboune, with whom I chat during the workday, but I decided to ignore it. I did lie down for a few minutes between work and my Wednesday evening marathon, and I told my husband I was going to die soon.

This is a joke. My husband has been telling me for the past 20 years that he is going to die soon.

He said I should wait for him.

I didn't even mention it during the ladies' group last night, a feature of which is going around the group and telling our troubles. I couldn't bring it up in that group because they all have things like kidney transplants and fainting spells and broken limbs and diabetic necrophilia -- no, can't be that. Necro-something, though. Anyway, it's just not a group in which you can whine about having a tummy ache.

When I got to bells, though, half the ringers were out with stomach flu, so I immediately began to fear that I had that. By the time I sat down for choir, I was so dizzy that I thought I might faint, so I mentioned it to The Chemist. She suggested that it could be menopause or high blood pressure. I don't have those things "You didn't have those things," she said in a blood-curdling tone. "Maybe you're getting them now."

If you are at all prone to hypochondria, you should not tell your symptoms to The Chemist.

I thought it might be that I had neglected to breathe during bell practice.

So I sat there singing for an hour, with odd creeping sensations and chills, and then I went home to bed and slept fitfully for twelve hours, awakened by pain and sweating and chills. I have now done the minimum of work and am going to go back to bed as soon as I finish writing here.  I intend to be all better tomorrow, because I am going to visit #2 daughter in The Big City.

Something a little funny happened yesterday. I can't share this story IRL because there is too much explanation for normal people. Here I can explain, and if you wander off to have a cup of tea, I won't even know.

On Tuesday, I had been submitting websites to directories. I do this all the time, and it is a respectable part of the Dark Art. I do it, and then mostly forget about it and move on to the next thing. But one of the directories was a blog directory, and Wednesday morning I got to the computer and found that nice bloggers had stopped by and invited me to be friends with them and it seemed to be an interesting place over there. So I actually went back and posted this blog, something which I never do.

I do not conduct any SEO on this site. It is my private blog. So when I submitted it, I didn't put in any of the keywords we use to lure people into help people find our sites. Just the URL. In case any of those interesting bloggers felt like dropping by.

I got an email almost immediately telling me that this blog had been refused because it was obviously not a blog, but a commercial site, maybe even spam.

I have commercial sites. They are distinguished by the presence of products, a shopping cart, and limited writing. I was having some pain at the time, and that I think is why I shot off a response saying they didn't have to put me in their directory, but I felt they should know that their reviewer was untrustworthy.

Really, I have to laugh about it. All the commercial stuff I do, and this site gets turned down. None of the others ever has.

I am going back to bed now. I agreed not to die sooner than my husband, so I guess I won't die today, but I don't think I can actually stay up.

I heard about GTD (David Allen's Getting Things Done system) on NPR on February 20th. I spent a couple of weeks getting into the habit of Ubiquitous Capture. I did the Processing and the Organization (though I still haven't reorganized my planner to a perfect GTD state; I am trying out various paper and computer options to find the best one). I have the idea of Weekly Review.

Now it is time for the Doing part. "Workflow" is the cute term.

Have you ever noticed how many self-help empires are built almost entirely on cute terms?

GTD isn't really the same old classic time management with cute new terms. It is a bottom-up rather than a top-down approach. It focuses on maintaining low stress while being productive, through the "mind like water" approach, whereas classic time management tends to focus entirely on productivity, figuring that the source of people's stress is not getting things done.

 Last night in class, one of the women -- a homeschooling mom who doesn't work outside the home -- was bemoaning the fact that we are all so busy. Most of the others present joined her. People have been complaining about the frenetic pace of modern life since the 1920s, but perhaps it is true that our current technology encourages us to be On all the time. When I wake up in the wee hours of the morning with a to-do list pestering me, there is now nothing to stop me from getting up and getting to work. So maybe Allen is right when he suggests that to-do lists are no longer the best way.

Allen's idea is that, having done your Weekly Review and therefore having confidence that everything is under control, you can take a few seconds to glance at your calendar and your Next Actions list and allow your brain -- freed of hamster-like fretting over all the things you have to do -- to make excellent intuitive choices about what to do next. This idea is supported by a variety of thoughts about what the brain is good at (complex decisions) and what it is bad at (remembering to buy batteries). You let your paper or software take care of those low-level things like remembering and reminding, and let your brain's creativity and cleverness take over.

After class last night I came home and watched Bush's Brain, a documentary from the book of the same name. During the interviews, I found my attention caught by people's bookshelves.

Nearly everyone was interviewed in front of a bookshelf, and they were all different. I'm not talking about the titles -- I couldn't see any titles. It was the way the books were, physically, that I found so interesting.

So I have taken pictures of some of my bookshelves and I am sharing them with you here. I would like to see yours, too. No fair straightening or dusting them first.  I didn't.

One more thing I'd like to ask you guys.

One of the items I have for review from Amazon this month is Windows Vista Ultimate. My kids are assuring me that it will be bad for the computer to install this. I always think of installing a new operating system as a good thing to do for a computer. Bracing, you know, like a spa day or something. Are my kids just being old-fashioned fuddy duddies resisting change, or is there actually something wrong with Vista?

Okay. I eagerly await your bookshelves and computer expertise, and I will let you know how the whole GTD Workflow thing goes.

As Janalisa says, "Later, tater!" I think that's more picturesque than the alligator one, don't you?

Over at Ozarque's they've been having a discussion about men and women and "caregiving," which seems to be defined to include housekeeping, caring for people directly (as in taking care of children or elderly relatives), and caring for people in the sense of sending birthday cards and remembering to call them. Central points include whether women do this to a disproportionate extent, whether men are secretly miserable about not doing their share, and whether it would make a big difference in our society if we discussed this.

You can find (and join in) the whole very long and complex discussion over there, but there is one aspect of it that I found particularly interesting: the idea that people who do caregiving do it because they want to.

This is a significant point in the admitted caregiving imbalance at my house. There are lots of things on the list of caregiving tasks done at my house that do not get done at all if I don't do them. Not every single thing on that list; my husband and #2 son will both do dishes, #1 son will do laundry (at least his own laundry), everyone will take care of the animals if barked at stridently enough. But it is not at all uncommon for me to get home at 9:00 p.m. to find all three of the guys sitting around waiting for me to make their dinner. They alert me to their holiday desires, but I doubt that any of them would actually make any holiday preparations were I not there. They will fight among themselves until one of them gives in and mows the lawn, but I don't suppose any of them would ever communicate with distant family members, unless they happened to be playing World of Warcraft at the same time.

And I think that they would tell you that I do those things because I want to. The very fact that they would never bother to clean the bathroom proves, to them, that it isn't important to clean the bathroom. When I feel harried about all the things I have to do, they would tell you if pressed, it is because I choose to do all these unimportant things.

There is some truth to this. When I decided to make those cute carrot cakes for Easter, it was definitely for me. It was fun. I like to do things like that. I always enjoyed attending my kids' performances; I do think of it as something that ought to be done, and I wish that the guys sometimes felt like coming to my or to their sister's performances, but it has never been a chore for me.

Not all of the things are like that, though. When I clean the living room, which is #1 son's job, I feel that I am having to do his work because he won't do it.

#1 son feels that he maintains a reasonable level of cleanliness and tidiness in the living room, and my decision to do things like dust or put away shoes is just something I want to do. Just like making marzipan carrots.

Our mental lists of things that need to be done don't match. So I think of there being a long list of stuff that needs to be done for the welfare of the household, and I am the one who does most of it. My menfolks think there is a very short list of stuff that needs to be done, and they do their part, and then there are all these other unnecessary things that I like to do.

Naturally, they don't feel any impetus to do those things.

The new organizational system that I am playing around with, GTD, is based on the idea that we keep too much in our minds. Most of the women I know certainly do. Most of the women I know are working mothers. At any given moment, they have long lists of caregiving tasks they're working on, including other people's health and emotional well-being, plus work, plus relationships, plus their own health and well-being, plus community responsibilities of various kinds. The younger women I know have shorter lists of some of that stuff, but longer lists of relationship dramas and things they need to do to look good. The older ones have shorter lists of some of that stuff, but longer lists of health issues to take care of and more people to be concerned about. Many of these women know, care about, and keep track of all the cares and needs of large circles of people, and remember to ask after everyone's projects and kids and so forth. I find this impressive.

If we apply GTD to that category of tasks, we would determine the action steps: pray for Ruth and take her a casserole. We would write those down and we would quit worrying about Ruth. We would put the repetitive housekeeping tasks into our tickler file and do them automatically on schedule without thinking about them. We would ask ourselves "why am I doing this?" when action steps like "reorganize kitchen cabinets" came up, and we would answer, "I'm doing it because I like my cabinets decent and in order" and enjoy doing it. Or we would answer, "Because someone has to," and decide that we didn't have to be the someone and leave it undone.

I'm making that up. Actually, David Allen, author of Getting Things Done, hardly mentions caregiving of any kind. He has a couple of backyard projects and a birthday in there as examples on a list, he has "spend more quality time with my kids" as an example of a major life goal, and he does mention planning a vacation. But essentially, this is a guy who doesn't feel responsibility for caregiving. I assume that someone else does all that for him.

I think that is the norm. I do not, personally, believe that the average man feels bad about not doing his share of caregiving. I do think that men would notice if someone didn't do that stuff for them. I think there would be consequences. But that might just be self-preservation. I mean, if I am going to have long lists of stuff I have to do, it is probably more tolerable for me if I can believe that those things matter to and are appreciated by the people I think I'm doing them for.

There is a new Knitty up, and a new Anti-Craft. I have no desire to make anything in either of them. You may wonder why, when I still have Erin on the needles, I would even be looking at other projects. The thing is, I have two prime knitting opportunities coming up, but both are perfectly suited to Zombie Knitting, while Erin is definitely in the Epic Knitting class.

In fact, everything I've contemplated making lately is in the Epic class. I must find a good Zombie project. Last year at this time, and with similar knitting opportunities, I made the Bijoux Blouse. I have to admit that this was not a completely successful project. It was a boxy sweater with dropped sleeves, which is not a flattering or stylish look. It is also made of cotton, and the pattern flares out at the hem, which means that the natural tendency toward flaring that cotton has causes it to be downright bell-like. I should perhaps frog it and make something else with the yarn. But it was an excellent Zombie project.

Maybe I will find time to skate around the knitting blogs today and find out what others are doing. I have almost entirely given up reading the knitting blogs, apart from yours, of course, because there came a time when no one seemed to be knitting much. There were pictures of spinning, and pictures of yarn, but actual knitting was rare, and I have limited free time. Maybe this is no longer true. Not the free time part, but perhaps the knitting bloggers have some knitting going on. Not me, but I no longer claim to be a knitting blogger.

While I did spend yesterday afternoon (after the guests left, obviously) reading novels, as planned, I am also still reading David Allen's book Getting Things Done. I have embraced Ubiquitous Capture and Regular Processing, so I now move on to the Getting Organized section.

I'm pretty organized, actually, so the section on how to file things and how to get through the inbox weren't so exciting to me. I would love it if That Man would allow me to use the system on him, since he works in a horrible welter of paper ever since Blessing left, but for me it contained no "ah ha!" moments.

I have now come to the part of the book that seems to create the most negative reactions: the list of lists. Allen claims that we all need the following lists and folders:

• a Projects list
• Project support materials
• a calendar for things that must be done at a particular time
• Next Actions lists
• a Waiting For list
• Reference material
• a Someday/Maybe list

Allen claims that putting our things on one list that belong on another list is fatal. For example, he points out that if we put things that should be on our calendar onto our Next Actions list, we will have to be looking at the Next Actions list all the time, not trusting our calendars. I can see that. But what's wrong with putting our Next Actions on the calendar? He points out that putting Projects on the calendar or on the Next Actions list can paralyze us -- we see "do taxes" and think "Oh, I'd better get those forms" but we can't do that right now, so we move on from it and don't get it done. But why not put the Next Actions onto the Projects list, so that the next step we need to take is visibly there with the name of the project? He tells us that having things we might someday do on our Projects list will keep us from using the projects list as we should, because it will include things we aren't really planning to act on soon. But mightn't having  those things on the active list encourage us either to do them or to cross them off as things we don't really want to do?

GTD devotees claim that one reason GTD doesn't work for some people is that they start looking at it like this and thinking that it isn't really different from their old to-do list, and pretty soon they are just using a to-do list again.

It's Monday morning, so anyone doing GTD should be sitting down with the stuff that accumulated in the in-box over the weekend and the lists, and Processing stuff. Some items go onto the calendar, but Allen says, "What many people want to do, however, based on old habits of writing daily to-do lists, is put actions on the calendar that they'd really like to get done next Monday, say, but then they actually might not, and that might then have to be taken over to following days. Resist this impulse." He also doesn't favor prioritizing tasks. He would instead organize Next Action tasks by "context" -- that is, where it should be done. If you just have a small one-page list of Next Actions, you can put a little symbol next to them. If you have hundreds of items, you can make separate pages for your various contexts. So when you are sitting down at your computer after your processing session, you see all the "@computer" stuff and you will then intuitively choose the most essential things to do from that list.

Really? You won't choose the easiest, or most fun, or quickest?

This is the point at which the bottom-up nature of the GTD system begins to conflict with the top-down inclinations of those of us who have been successful with classic time management. Ubiquitous Capture and Regular Processing work well with either philosophical mindset. Not so the list issue. My planner, with its calendar section and Projects section (each Project having its associated to-do list), is not suited to the group of lists GTD recommends.

Do I reorganize my planner in order to give GTD a fair shake? Hmmm...

I did not get around to taking pictures of yesterday's Easter feast table until after the meal, so what I am showing you here is the remains of a meal.

However, you can see the pretty salad we will be making at Chanthaboune's party on Saturday. This is one of my upcoming knitting opportunities -- the road trip up to her place. If, that is, my husband agrees to come along and do the driving.

We are going to put grilled chicken into the salad, along with the grapefruit and avocado you see here, and make mojitos.

My inclination is to make a Road Trip list with all the associated tasks on it, from sending Chanthaboune the grocery lists to finding a suitable Zombie knitting project for the drive. Then I would divide them up among the calendar pages for the week between now and then, adjusting around my work and other commitments. That would be top-down planning. I guess I will give the GTD arrangement a go and see how it works. I'll let you know.

My carrots cakes turned out to be very cute, though admittedly different from the professional ones in the book.

I spent most of yesterday in the kitchen, but the kids went out in the evening and I read The Science of Discworld. I am enjoying it very much, since you ask.

The premise is that the wizards of the discworld have magically created a "roundworld" -- ours, in fact -- and the book runs through the beginnings of the universe with a big dose of Discworld-style narrativium.

I haven't written much about it because so far it has run through quantum machanics, global warming, mass extinctions, evolution -- yawn! -- all the topics I have been reading about and therefore writing about since Ash Wednesday.

Different points of view keep it interesting, but it is after all the same stuff. And, barring a few things that got discovered while I wasn't paying attention (I was really busy in the 1980s), it is the same stuff I learned in school or in the news since. As The Science of the Discworld puts it in the introduction, "We have [written about] Schrodinger's Cat, the Twins Paradox, and that bit about shining a torch ahead of a spaceship travelling at the speed of light. This is because, under the rules of the Science Writers' Guild, they have to be included."

(If you didn't learn that stuff in school, you should ask for your money back.)

I look forward to reading novels again, beginning after lunch. Nonfiction, too, of course, but I want things lightened up a bit.

Today is Easter. If you are, like me, heading off to church for the most joyful celebration of the entire year and then gathering your available loved ones together for a feast, I wish you a very happy Easter indeed!

If not, enjoy your day as much as possible and I'll see you tomorrow.

The Tenebrae service went well. My solo went well, this time without microphones. There were several comments about microphones yesterday, none of which seemed related to the entry. I think maybe they were about talking rather than singing. That's okay, of course, but I was really surprised by the fact that the microphone stirred up more interest than the gun.

I don't like to sing into a microphone because I think that it distorts the voice and -- most important -- is unnecessary. If you have good acoustics, you can just sing naturally and people can hear you. We have some people in the congregation who are hard of hearing, though, and they like a little amplification, and I'm not going to argue with them. And of course there are places where amplification is essential, and PA systems are wonderful for talking across distances. I'm really not advocating someone's having to stand in the hallway and bellow out announcements. Even in church, the pastors use microphones. I just don't care for them for singing.

So the music went well. Not so the marzipan carrots.

Making marzipan carrots is quite simple. You color the marzipan, roll it into carrot shapes, and then you make some little carrot-ish lines on them and give them leaves.

My carrots are way too red.

I sat down after the service with #1 daughter, watching Bridget Jones's Diary and making carrots.

We were having the obligatory discussions: is Hugh Grant handsome or merely charming, is Bridget the character actually stupid or is that just more of that famed British self-deprecating humor, was the movie better than the book or vice versa.

And I got carried away with the red coloring, and couldn't get those carrots orange no matter what.

This is what the carrots are for. I think you will agree that the level of cuteness is such that I can't just give up the idea. We did consider other kinds of cake. We might, for example, make a spice cake and let the erstwhile carrots be red peppers instead.

However, the carrot cake recipe in this book is not just any old carrot cake such as you could make (if you have a wonderful rotary grater as I do) any day of the week. It is a special flourless one with ground nuts and stiffly beaten egg whites, and I was looking forward to it.

It would be possible to make carrot cake and top it with radishes, just as a reference to the garden. Who would object? This is a family dinner, not a contest. Or there could be redder varieties of carrots. Or I could make a Key Lime Pie instead and forget the whole thing.

I am heading out to the grocery in a few minutes here. I may buy a new package of marzipan and use the red marzipan for some other purpose entirely.

The plan for Easter, since I will be at church from 7:50 a.m. on, is to spend today making fancy desserts and salads, and let the hot things that have to be made tomorrow be very simple. 

This is the other dessert I'm planning. It is supposed to be made 24 hours ahead, so the flavors can "marry." Then you just put some fresh berries on top at the last minute. Also fresh mint leaves, of which I currently have none.

Normally, at Easter, there are flowers blooming and fresh herbs and stuff, but Easter is so early this year that there is nothing going on in my gardens.

We'll hustle our guests through the front door quickly and offer them scintillating conversation instead.

#1 daughter can tell about the Wild West atmosphere in her office. That might distract them from the red carrots, even.

In yesterday's performance, the tech guy did insist I use a microphone, and then asked me to back off. "You have such a strong voice," he said, rather as though that were a problem. Well, yes, I do have a big voice. And we have good acoustics. It's a church, not a park. I was courteous about it.

The service was refreshing, the jambalaya was terrific, and I sat at a table of people I didn't know well, rather than going and hanging out at the musicians' table. True, they were talking about bowling where I sat, but I was proud of myself for doing that. We have to seek out new experiences in order to preserve the elasticity of our brains, don't we?

Otherwise (and apart from a visit to the gym), I was just working on normal work. #1 daughter made it home last night and told us about her day, a normal work day for her, too.

The investigator in the office next to hers had gotten into a bit of a screaming match with someone in his office, and was threatening to shoot the guy. #1 daughter, working on the other side of the thin wall, became a bit alarmed.

She asked one of the lawmen whether she ought to leave her office in case of stray bullets.

"Nah," the lawman reassured her, "he's a good shot."

That sort of thing probably keeps the brain highly elastic.

While we talked, I worked on the table runner which has been a WIP for the past year. I have no explanation for why this is taking me so long.

It would be nice if it were finished in time for Easter but I don't see that happening, unless I finish it up by machine.

I do enjoy hand quilting, though, and I like the way it looks. The texture, it seems to me, is better than what machine quilting produces.

Today I will be at the store, and tonight is the Tenebrae service. I'm hoping #1 daughter will come up and hang out with me a bit. She is a fascinating conversationalist, and we had several conversations started last night which we weren't able to get finished because we strayed off onto other topics.