11 January 2004 - 10:17 p.m.

Well, the Titans lost to the Pats (congratulations, Swoop), but at least it was an interesting game. The board meeting broke up right at the end of the second quarter, so I was able to curl up with the BYM to watch the second half.

It was a good dinner: I made deviled eggs and carrot sushi and set out popcorn, pickled garlic, anchovy-stuffed olives, wasabi peas and ginger candy; the others brought tortellini, salad, scalloped yams, a bacon-spinach quiche, roasted veggies, poppyseed cake, and chardonnay.

And the pantry and fridge are mostly already stocked for this week's gatherings, too. Shopping list: beer, red wine, small plates, frozen dumplings, green beans. . .

Tonight we went over to my in-laws' for dinner: roast chicken, stuffing, potatoes, asparagus, apple jelly, creme brulee. Riesling, sparkling wine, coffee.

They picked up a handsome new book at an Ontario Costco, The Group of Seven and Tom Thomson. I want to spend more time with Lawren Harris's stuff.

This morning, a child started howling as the choir proceeded to the front of the sanctuary, the screaming getting louder and louder as we reached our spots. Jason (our music director) turned around and commented, "The choir's okay, really."

Gail: "Sounds like an alto to me."
Jason: "Nah, I think it's a tenor."
Me: "Hey!"
Jason: "That's a compliment. Powerful lungs."

Speaking of powerful lungs, the congregation approved ordaining Jason later this spring, subject to the Ministerial Fellowship Committee's agreement. I'm anticipating a phenomenal, roof-raising, rafter-ringing service. . .

On a more sober note, Gregory Ridley, a longtime member of the congregation, passed away yesterday of cancer. Jason read from the newspaper write-up, which mentioned how the artist kept working through the past six weeks in the hospital, still sketching an hour before he died.

The lyf so short, the craft so longe. . . Sigh. And so to work.