Awakenings

I am *not* a morning person. Anyone who's spent any amount of time with me will know this. You know the phrase "mind over mattress"? (If anyone's had Bro. Campagna for a C.O., they'll recognize this!) Yeah, it doesn't work out so well for me. So, when Dad asks me - in my sleep induced haze - if I want to get up for service, I shake my head no. Yes. I am a wuss.

9:30 rolls around, and I'm awoken by the oddest sounds coming from the kitchen. Now, I know I'm the only one left in the house, and I know my cat isn't *that* smart to be making me breakfast. Then, I hear voices.

I panic, since I'm gracefully drooling on the living room futon and (obviously) haven't showered. The next thing I know, there's a highchair sitting in the kitchen, accompanied by my mother and friend Denise - who's just as crazy as I am.

That's not entirely true. She's crazier. Anyway, she looks at my dishevelled state and bleary eyes and immediately kidnaps me. She's very good at this, and has perfected this particular art over our years of pioneering together. ("Coffee?" "Okay!" "Get in the car.") She's also the only woman I know who has hit an owl with her van on the way to meeting.

The mockage from that one incident was enough to last a lifetime. Or, in our case, a week.

I have the strangest friends....