“So what do you do?” A nice man asks me what should be a simple question.
John and I are attending a gathering at a local watering hole. Avoiding the spiritual, we stand sipping our spirits.
Ah, the question, “So what do you do?”
“I arranged for Santa to come early in the morning on December 25th,” John tells me. We are preparing for baby Nick’s first Christmas.
“You mean you bought a Santa outfit to wear?” I want clarification.
“No, I called the public library and asked them where I can find Santa.” John’s faith in the American dream astounds me.
I ask, ‘Does someone out there have an agenda?’ I’m pondering if I am destined to follow a divine plan.