Feasts, Famines, and Emcees

The laptop now plays Half-Life. Peace reigns throughout the universe. The Boy even got up with me at 7AM to resume playing the game.

That was an absolute lie. The snooze button got a workout this morning. I wish I knew what was different of late; usually I hit the sack at 1AM, when I am too tired to do anything but sleep (yes, this is necessary – otherwise, I don’t sleep), then my traitorous brain awakens me at 6AM or even earlier. Lately, I’ve been sleeping until my alarm. I’m grateful, but I’d love to know what is making my nighttime different.

Possibly it’s due to the prospect of the feast/famine dichotomy finally turning the corner into Feast territory. People are nibbling at the outreaches of my availability, intimating they are getting ducks in rows for future productions. Whip those ducks into shape, say I, Daddy needs a new pair of glasses.

But the part about The Boy not sleeping in until Noon? That was The Truth.

Now, if you’ll forgive me, I have to go work magic on some emcee speeches I promised to write for a church function. That would be the one where I was waiting for more information to be given, and I now realize this info is not coming. Or if it does, it won’t be what I need. Why, for instance, I was given the recipes for the desserts that will be served is quite, quite beyond me. This is to be an evening of jazz music, not a cooking show.

I’m not even sure why they need anyone to write emcee speeches. They are not that difficult. “Good evening, Here’s the band. Bid at the silent auction. Give us money. Don’t drink and drive. Thank you.”

I will just, as ever, throw up my hands, exclaim, “Civilians!” under my breath, and get on with it.

(The image is from Savage Chickens. They funny. Go read.)