The Banzai Chronicles

Pound for pound, I don't think anything produces more sound than a garbage truck. Doesn't hurt that its sound is among the first to break the quiet morning. Abrupt, slamming, a temper tantrum in gears and metal.

Glad to be up early, beating most of the noise and bustle by a few precious minutes (I hate the fact that I can't use the phrase "precious moments" because of the unavoidable imagery of big-headed, doe-eyed, cutesy-cheesy statuary-- damned commercial sweetness).

Read a few chapters of Scripture, which gave my soul some refreshment. That doesn't give rest to my struggling, however (nor should it). Temptation is, by definition, tempting, but I hate that the world so often hold more allure for me than Jesus. Sometimes I think I know too much, that I have so many bits of information, data, media and trivia rattling around in my head that simplicity is forever unreachable. Paul wrote that he wanted to know only Christ and Him crucified. In the age of overload, I see the comfort in this.

The coffee is drunk and the croissant eaten. Time to go home, pack a lunch in the snazzy new lunchbox (sammiches), flirt with pre-work napping, and attack the day.