I wrote yet a couple more saintly entries based on the two latest books I am reading. I really need to stop doing that. Reading something is not the same as having absorbed it, even in an intellectual sense. Much less having let the word become flesh.

Asparagus writing. You know, unlike fruits that have matured or vegetables that have grown to maturity, asparagus are picked while they are shots, just coming up from the ground. There is a farm near Riverview where they sell these in the spring. Not a bad word about asparagus (at least if you suffer from constipation, of which they are the antithesis in my experience). But I really should not write about religious metaphysics as soon as the first green shots of it peek up in my mind.