The first words I read this morning--besides the usual ones on signs between my house and Whataburger--were written on the back of a business card of a typewriter store.

Within the big tent of Christianity, there's a branch of it that has made "God" seem like a comic book figure who captures the describer's wishes and projections.   While there are religious people who are far more nuanced and intelligent, the branch that angers me expresses their beliefs in hokey memes and cliches they may have copied from the church bulletin.  The typewriter folks' card expressed it like this:

GOOD MORNING!

This is God.

I will be handling all of your problems today.

I will not need your help.

So, have a good day!


So when did  humans give up their agency to solve their own problems?  And since when does "God" write notes to humans using the phrase I believe started with the hippy generation: "Have a good day!"?

Anyway, I decided to have a good day anyway--with no divine intervention.  I drove up to Boerne looking for a vintage typewriter table and met a bunch of nice people.  I came home to nap before Victoria's art show and canceled my plans to go to Reyes' son's birthday party.  In this heat, I wilt at noon and want nothing more to be in my cool bed for a while!