Well, the blogging well ran dry for a bit there. The worst thing about running a half-marathon and half-heartedly training for it is not the actual running–it is the I-Should-Be-Running-Guilt that pervades everything you do until the half is over. Thankfully, I ran the half–it wasn’t half-bad–and now I don’t have that running guilt over my head. After a busy and wonderful few days with my mother and sister, I returned to New York with a cold. Thus, I spent this past weekend being quiet and dusting all the inches of my apartment. It is amazing how much better having everything back in its place and nice and clean can make a person feel.

I also made it to church on Sunday (I had a real lightbulb moment about the subway and a different way I can get there that is less impacted by weekend rail work). I do love the Palm Sunday service–it starts on such a high note with a grand procession and great hymns and ends on a very somber one as we head into Holy Week. And, of course, the skills one learns as the only eight-year-old honorary Altar Guild member never leave. Hence, my palm crosses.