The high points of my weekend:

Dinner Sunday night with good friends I haven’t seen lately. Michele cooked a spectacular dish composed of chicken breasts, roasted red peppers, our homegrown tomatoes, mushroom caps, and artichoke hearts in a wine sauce, flavored with the basil we grew. For dessert, homemade carrot cake — and yes, we grew the carrots, one of which came out of the ground looking very obscene indeed. (Or, in Terry Pratchett’s terminology, it was “an amusingly shaped vegetable.”)

An interesting discussion at the church Adult Education Committee meeting about myth and story. One of the church members is getting her PhD in Mythological Studies, and she’s going to be presenting some ideas about Christianity and story at our adult-ed meetings.

Amazing news on the baseball front. My team is no longer rightfully known as “the cellar-dwelling Phillies.” These days we’re a full game ahead of the hapless Mets, whose own fans are urging them to strike. Of course, we’re also 20 games back of the Braves, but still.

Despite all that good news, it was a difficult weekend, marred by breathing difficulties, insomnia, nightmares. The links are clear; it’s hard to sleep comfortably when you’re in the midst of an asthma attack, and both the attacks and the medication make for nightmares. I had to leave church with an asthma attack. And family events conspired to keep me from writing one single word or even getting the office finished.

I’m hoping next weekend will be better. I have resolved to make no more time commitments, period, until after the writers' conference.