The Runner sent the children out to play on Saturday and on Sunday. It was warm enough that the elder two refused their jackets. Well, they wore them out the door . . . then shed them.
I taught my first Sunday school class in a good while yesterday. It seemed to go well enough. I'm not accustomed to teaching in that setup, so I've got some adjusting to do. They chuckled in the appropriate spots, and I fairly cleanly fielded the one unexpected response I got . . . so far so good. The Runner says I did fine, so I trust her.
Rough weekend from a psychological standpoint . . . as I mentioned yesterday evening, it's hard to feel like all one's efforts are mere drops in the bucket all the time. . . while the bucket continues to get bigger and bigger. The Runner was kind enough to assure me that I'm doing a better job than I give myself credit for. My fear is that the moment I start believing that I'm doing alright, the bottom will drop out and I'll end up on my face. That is a state of mind I've had since The Year I Almost Died. . . and invalid though it may be, it's a hard lesson to unlearn.
We did show the boys Star Wars on Friday night (I refuse to call it by its hokey new name).
The weather is good. I should be out on the bike. Always something more.
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