February 26. Sunday Night.

Hi Journey.

Today in Sunday school that class had a fun parable. The miracle of the loaves and fishes is always a favorite among the Third Graders, but this morning was the first time any one of them queried me concerning what kind of fish Jesus fed the people with.

Of course, it was Tee that asked. I had no clue, but asked here right back what she thought it was. She felt it was a perch, which is a fish she likes to eat, and it would just make sense that Jesus would feed the people a tasty fish.

Jack Heckstrom thought it a pike. When I asked him why, he said it was because they grow big, and Jesus wouldn't have had to use up as many of them to feed the 5,000.

I love Third Grade logic.

Stayed in the shop all Saturday and just worked away. By 6 O'clock I started reflecting, which is always a bad thing. Especially when I'm drained and Eddie hasn't called for a few days and I'm pining for a tasty Saturday night meal.

Eddie claims he's under severe deadline pressure to deliver the next module of the new movie-character shopping cart. Apparently the company he's contracting for is under some type of scrutiny from their parent, and so he's working doubleplus quick trying to toss those corporate dogs enough of a bone to minimize the growling.

OK, Journey, contemplation's not always a bad thing. But when I'm irritated from a week when I know we made at least 25% fewer client calls than we should have—well, that's not a good time for me to reflect.

Brooding, I think that's the appropriate word. Probably that's what Mom or Mattie would have tagged it.

But anyway, I got to thinking about Shelly. She takes too long to arrange the colors for a client. She need to learn— must learn —that there is a limit to how much time you can spend on any one customer.

I know she's sneaking samples and photos and swatches home and working up client designs at her apartment at night. That's fine for now but what happens when she's married and has a couple of tots trundling about? Or, in a year when she's so burnt out I can't beg a decent 40 hour week out of her because she's too busy putting in 70s now? Something is going to give out eventually. Her candle's lit at both ends and doused in kerosene.

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