October 23. Sunday Night.

Hi Journey.

Tired, but for now I'm going to try and add a few more minutes to the day. Sunday night always sneaks up on me way fast. Thought I'd get bucketloads of work done around the apartment after I taught the Third Graders at Sunday School this morning. Ah, the best-laid plans of mice and me.

How come 10 min. naps stretch to 2 hours so easily?

Jack Heckstrom slays me every week. That kid will grow up to be either a lawyer or a con-man. Maybe both. Today we studied how Moses kept pitching Pharaoh to let the Israelites go. This kid 180'd the tables on me, urging me to release the Sunday Schoolers from bondage by letting them go outside to play 10 minutes early.

He was good, with a lady-killer smile and bright, feisty blue eyes. The braces and freckles don't do much for me, though.

But Master Heckstrom has Charm 101 aced, that's for sure. Still, he needs a little polish. He just couldn't help slyly winking at me during the end of his little push for playtime.

Yes, Journey, I caved. A rational compromise seemed to let them go romp outside ten minutes early.

If he was 20 years older I would have taken him out for a date on Saturday night. Much better than Todd LeBrand was at Big Mike's last night.

Second date with Todd. Looks like Mrs. Olandson from RidgePointe will be ribbing me come Tea Time in January. Mark my words well, Journey--there will NOT be a third date with Todd.

Probably wouldn't have been a second one, if that snake-eyed Mark Forney hadn't of bailed. Todd happened to call late Friday afternoon just as I was walking out the door. I was tempted to let it ring, but of course I had to spin about and race back to answer it. It might have been a client. Instead, it was Todd. And I was tired and a little hungry anyway, so I said yes to Saturday night.

Weakling.

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