he Is Risen

I'm enjoying an extended working stay in Boston, removed from the assault of screaming children and political analysis that would otherwise consume me, and hoping to add my name to the whirling list of nobodys (amidst those who are somebodys to the nobodys) at the end of an Oscar winning motion picture. My hopes are usually pinned to shakier prospects than this, so it's a big deal. My holiday has lasted only long enough to lay flooring for my parents and mediate a battle over who's spitting on who's chocolate bunny. I'll have to miss the heavily salted ham and gray bean casserole for an overpriced chicken sandwich at the Vince Lombardi rest stop on the New Jersey turnpike en route to my lonely hotel room [decorated by someone who deserves to be smacked around {that from a Quaker}]. I'm working on affording the technology [and discipline] that would allow me to more regularly post. Upcoming for sure is a diatribe on the MA driver (Masshole; since when is the shoulder a lane?). I'm having a taste of power as a 'gang boss' over a crew of furniture restorers though the job title suggests we're picking up litter on the highway. My travel day commences in about fifteen minutes so here's my loftiest introspection. Even an atheist would have to revisit the idea of an afterlife if one has managed to survive a 6:30 am merge onto I-95 at exit 15B. Peace.