mob notes, 2

I've been wondering things.

First, yesterday, it was why did a cold sore have to show up under my lip five days before the wedding? There's no chance, is there, that pictures of my daughter's celebration will escape the monster scourge of a red, weeping fever blister. Checking online, I was encouraged by a beautiful young woman's remedy. Then, at Bimart, purchasing all the stuff the beautiful young woman suggested, I received more good counsel from the checkout lady, whose husband suffers from these same maladies. "Our doctor has him drink a tablespoon of apple cider vinegar a day," she told me. At home, I drained a dose of zingy vinegar and tended my face as well as possible.

Next, today's question. How do you (politely) direct your analytical self to take a holiday? Same question goes for the theologizing self, who lives with you on such a constant basis and is so thoroughly your companion that you want to do this gently, kindly. Theology, I really enjoy spending time with you, but this thing is happening, and I must focus on details I'm not too good at focusing on. Please, take a vacation -- you look as though it will help, anyway -- hang out at the beach til next Tuesday or so. And take Analysis with you, k? Thanks; now run along, see you next week.

I've been trying to think linearly. The closest I've come is a list with sections around the page: people to call; places to go; things to bring (don't forget Tim's glasses! -- he'll be reading from an Epistle); emails to send.

I have been remembering that none of the events this week are about me. They will go on, and people I love will participate; they'll eat drink and be merry while two dear children get married. Whatever else I don't know how to do, I know how to reflect on this happy circumstance.

Now, so long, I need to gulp more vinegar.