Walker Bank Center

I am lying flat on my back in my beddy, and through the window I can see the top of the Walker Bank
center.  It's blue unblinking light tells me that the weather is clear.  I like this new view and I like my new apartment more than I expected to like it.  I was expecting a little more room, but it feels like a sunny cottage in the sky.

I feel a pinch in my stomach that I think is an ulcer, but I'm too lazy to get up and take a Prilosec.  Every muscle in my body hurts from lugging our possessions about all week.   As much as we have downsized over the last six years, stuff continues to accumulate.  Books and other inanimate objects copulate behind our backs reproducing themselves at alarming rates.

And now I think I need two candle sconces, one for each side of a painting.  When is the last time you said, "sconces"?

I went to hear my nephew speak.  He came back from a mission in east Texas, sometimes on the Louisiana border.  He wore a tie with the Texas star on it and a star pin on his lapel.  He's sold on Texas.  He gave a thoughtful speech on the atonement, no small subject.  He worked small towns filled with disinterested Baptists, creating service projects to meet people.  He told about standing on a balcony of his apartment "to have a talk with God."  I like to hear where people pray.  I particularly like the shower, the balcony and my car for prayers.

I say, "Forgive me," and "Thank you."

Where do you pray?