Sunday, Part 3:
Patched things up with Fran; as for what this means, watch this space.

It's confirmed: pretty much every inch of feminist literature is written like a combination doctoral dissertation in animal husbandry and psychology, full of sound and fury and signifying nothing.

Oh, uh, the Sermon today was pretty profound. Take a looky-see at this spot. It was all about accepting and welcoming in your enemies; it's worth a read. Go! Go now!

That instant soup I ate was pretty terrible, but it was free, so I'm not knocking. I may be coming down with something, but it'll pass, I hope.

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